Celtic Lore & Legend

by Bob Curran

  Answer. The people of these isles, and particularly the seers are very temperate, and their diet is simple and moderate in quantity and quality, so that their brains are not in all probability disordered by undigested fumes of meat or drink. Both sexes are free from hysteric fits, convulsions, and several other distempers of that sort; there’s no madmen among them, nor any instance of self-murder. It is observed among them that a man drunk never sees the second-sight; and that he is a visionary, would discover himself in other things as well as in that; and such as see it are not judged to be visionaries by any of their friends or acquaintance.

  Object 2. There is none among the learned able to oblige the world with a satisfying account of these visions, therefore it is not to be believed.

  Answer. If everything for which the learned are not able to give a satisfying account be condemned as impossible we may find many other things generally believed that must be rejected by this rule. For instance, yawning and its influence and that the lodestone attracts iron; and yet these are true as well as harmless, though we can give no satisfying account of their causes, how much less can we pretend to things that are supernatural?

  Object 3. Seers are impostors, and the people who believe them are credulous, and easily imposed upon.

  Answer. The seers are generally illiterate and well meaning people, and altogether void of design, nor could I ever learn that any of them made the least gain by it, neither is it reputable among them to have that faculty; besides the people of isles are not so credulous as to believe the thing implicitly before the thing foretold is accomplished; but when it actually comes to pass afterwards it is not in their power to deny it without offering violence to their senses and reason. Besides, if the seers were deceivers, can it be reasonable to imagine that all the islanders who have not the second-sight should combine together and offer violence to their understandings and senses, to force themselves to believe a lie from age to age. There are several persons among them whose birth and education raise them above the suspicion of concurring with an imposture merely to gratify an illiterate and contemptible sort of persons; nor can a reasonable man believe that children, horses or cows could be pre-engaged in a combination to persuade the world of the reality of the second-sight.

  Such as deny these visions give their assent to several strange passages in history upon the authority of historians that lived several centuries before our time and yet they deny the people of this generation the liberty to believe their intimate friends and acquaintance, men of probity and unquestionable reputation, and of whose veracity than we have of any ancient historian.

  Every vision that is seen comes exactly to pass according to the true rules of observation, though novices and heedless persons do not always judge by those rules. I remember the seers returned me this answer to my objections and gave me several instances in that purpose whereof the following is one.

  A boy of my acquaintance was often surprised by the sight of a coffin close by his shoulder, which put him into a fright and made him to believe it was a forerunner of his own death, and this his neighbours judged to be the meaning of that vision; but a seer who lived in the village of Knockow, where the boy was then a servant, told them that they were under a great mistake, and desired the boy to take hold of the first opportunity that offered; and when he went to a burial to remember to act as a bearer for some moments; and this he did accordingly within a few days after when one of his acquaintance died; and from that time forward he was never troubled with seeing a coffin at his shoulder, though he has seen many at a distance, that concerned others. He is now reckoned one of the exactest seers in the parish of St. Mary’s in Skye where he lives.

  There is another instance of a woman in Skye, who frequently saw a vision representing a woman having a shroud about her up to the middle, but always appeared with her back towards her, and the habit in which it appeared to be dressed resembled her own: this was a mystery for some time, until the woman tried an experiment to satisfy her curiosity, which was to dress herself contrary to the usual way; that is, she put that part of her clothes behind, which was always before, fancying the vision at the next appearing would be easier distinguished: and it fell out accordingly, for the vision soon after presented itself with its face and dress looking towards the woman, and it proved to resemble herself in all points, and she died in a little time after.

  There are visions seen by several persons, in whose days they were not accomplished; and this is one of the reasons why some things have been seen that are said to never come to pass, and there are also several visions seen which are not understood until they are accomplished.

  The second-sight is not a late discovery seen by one or two in a corner, or a remote isle, but it is seen by many persons of both sexes, in several isles, separated above forty or fifty leagues from one another: the inhabitants of many of these isles never had the least converse by word or writing; and this faculty of seeing visions, having continued, as we are informed by tradition, ever since the plantation of these isles, without being disproved by the nicest sceptic, after the strictest inquiry, seems to be a clear proof of its reality.

  Welsh Changeling Legends

  If fairies were indeed another race, separate from Mankind, then there was a widespread belief throughout the Celtic world that their population remained reasonably static. Fairy women, it was said, had great difficulty in giving birth. There are many stories from Ireland, Scotland, Wales, and Brittany of human midwives being called to assist at exhausting fairy deliveries, none of which seem to have been successful, whilst the more elderly of the species lingered on for centuries through a cantankerous old age. In order to alleviate this situation and to bring new blood into the fairy line, it was believed that the fairies often carried away human children—particularly small girls or one of a set of twins—to live amongst them and add to their population. In return, they left one of their own—an old, wizened, whining creature which magically they “disguised” as the child that they had abducted. However, they couldn’t really disguise the fact that this being was thin and wasted or that it had a disagreeable nature.

  In times and areas where infantile diseases such as tuberculosis were common, such beliefs often served to explain how a normal-sized, healthy baby turned into a thin, wasted, and crying invalid almost overnight. And if the child were to die (as many of them did), then the idea provided at least some form of solace for the grieving parents. After all, it was not their child who had died—he or she was still alive amongst the fairies—but rather some withered ancient thing. If the tiny bodies were later exhumed, it was declared, all that would be found in the coffin was an old and blackened stick.

  Of course, parents did not want their children taken at all, so a series of measures and protections was devised to rid the house of these potential “changelings” (a fairy changed for a human being). If a child were suspected of being a changeling, then there were ways of finding out. The most common way was to trick the changeling into revealing its true age, which would be far older than that of a human infant. There were of course more drastic measures—in Ireland, they might be given a mixture of milk and powdered lusmore (foxglove) to drink. Because foxglove is a poison, this only hastened the demise of the unfortunate infant, though it was supposed to burn the entrails out of a fairy creature. Even more drastic was to place the infant on an iron shovel and hold it over an open fire. It was far better, then, to protect the child from being taken in the first place.

  Baptism by the Church was the surest way of preventing a child from being “taken,” but in many remote country areas it was maybe a few days before the cleric could attend to perform the ceremony. The child therefore had to be protected during the crucial days directly after birth. Crucifixes and religious ornaments were often placed around the crib to deter the Other People from coming too close; an open pair of scissors might be left at the crib-foot to turn evil powers back; and there were numerous other deterrents. Open iron tongs from the hearth, for
instance, might be left crosswise on the bedding, or an iron nail from a horseshoe could be hidden amongst the bedclothes. (Iron was considered to be anathema to the fairy kind.) As someone who has never been baptized myself, I vaguely remember my grandmother laying an item of my father’s clothes across my bed in order to remind “the fairies and the dead” that I was a human child and my father’s property. This, I think, continued until I was well into my fifth year. Despite these protections, human children might still be “taken away” and a changeling left in their place.

  The following selection of changeling stories comes from rural Wales and is found in Reverend Elias Owen’s Welsh Folk-lore (published 1896).

  Selections From Welsh Folk-lore

  by Reverend Elias Owen

  Corwrion Changeling Legend

  Once on a time in the fourteenth century, the wife of a man at Corwrion had twins and she complained one day to the witch who lived close by at Tyddyn y Barcut, that the children were not getting on, but that they were always crying, day and night. “Are you sure that they are your children?” asked the witch, adding that it did not seem to her that they were like hers.

  “I have my doubts also,” answered the mother.

  “I wonder has somebody changed children with you,” said the witch.

  “I don’t know,” said the mother

  “But why do you not seek to know?” asked the other.

  “But how am I to go about it?” said the mother. The witch replied,

  “Go and do something rather strange before their eyes and watch what they will say to one another.”

  “Well I do not do what I should do,” said the mother.

  “Oh,” said the other “take an egg-shell and proceed to brew beer in it in a chamber aside and come here to tell me what the children will say about it”. She went home and did as the witch had directed her, when the two children lifted their heads out of the cradle to see what she was doing, to watch and to listen. Then one observed to the other—

  “I remember seeing an oak having an acorn” to which the other replied: “And I remember seeing a hen having an egg” and one of the two added “But I do not remember before seeing anybody brew beer in the shell of a hen’s egg”

  The mother then went to the witch and told her what the twins had said and she directed her to go to a small wooden bridge, not far off, with one of the strange children under each arm and there to drop them from the bridge into the river beneath. The mother then went back home again and did as she had been directed. When she reached home this time to her astonishment she found that her own children had been brought back.

  [Editor’s Note: This tale is an extremely popular one with many variations all across the Celtic world. In Ireland, it is known as “The Brewery of Eggshells,” where a changeling is driven out by fire from the grate after being tricked into revealing its true age: more than a thousand years old.]

  Another version of this tale was related to me by my young friend, the Rev. D.H. Griffiths of Clocaenog Rectory near Ruthlin. The tale was told to him by Evan Roberts, Ffriddagored, Llanfwrog. Mr. Roberts is an aged farmer.

  Llanfwrog Changeling Legend

  A mother took her child to the gleaning field and left it sleeping under the sheaves of wheat whilst she was busily engaged gleaning. The Fairies came in the field and carried off her pretty baby, leaving in its place one of their own infants. At the time, the mother did not notice any difference between her own child and the one that took its place, but after awhile she observed with grief that the baby she was nursing did not thrive, nor did it grow, nor would it try to walk. She mentioned these facts to her neighbours and was told to do something strange and then listen to its conversation. She took an eggshell and pretended to brew beer in it and she was surprised to hear the child who had observed her actions intently, say:

  Mi welais fesan gan dderwen,

  Mi welais wy gan iar

  Ond ni welais I eriod ddarllaw

  Mewn cinyn wy iar.

  I have seen an oak having an acorn,

  I have seen a hen having an egg

  But I never saw before brewing

  In the shell of a hen’s egg.

  This conversation proved the origin of the precocious child who lay in the cradle. The stanza seems to have been taken down from Roberts’ lips. But he would not say what was done to the fairy changeling.

  In Ireland, a plan for reclaiming the child carried away by the Fairies was to take the Fairy’s changeling and place it on the top of a dunghill, and then to chant certain innovatory lines beseeching the Fairies to return the stolen child.

  There was, it would seem, in Wales, a certain form of incantation resorted to reclaim children from the Fairies, which is as follows—The mother who had lost her child was to carry the changeling to a river but she was to be accompanied by a conjuror, who was to take a prominent part in the ceremony. When at the river’s brink the conjuror was to cry out:

  Crap ar y wrach—

  A grip on the bag

  And the mother was to respond—

  Rhy hwyr gyfraglach

  Too late decrepit one

  And having uttered these words, she was to throw the child into the stream and to depart and it was believed that on reaching her home she would find her own child, safe and sound.

  I will now relate a tale somewhat resembling those already given but in this latter case, the supposed changeling became the mainstay of the family. I am indebted for the Gors Goch legend to an essay written by Mr. D Williams, Llanfachreth, Merionethshire which took the prize at the Liverpool Eisteddfod 1870 and which appears in a publication called Y Gordofigion published by Mr. I Foulkes, Liverpool.

  The Gors Goch Changeling Legend

  This tale, rendered into English is as follows—There was once a happy family living in a place called Gors Goch. One night, as usual, they went to bed but they could not sleep a single wink, because of the noise outside the house. At last, the master of the house got up and trembling enquired: What was there and what was wanted. A clear sweet voice answered him this:

  “We want a warm place where we can tidy the children.” The door was opened when there entered half-full the house of the Tylwyth Teg (Welsh fairies) and they began forthwith washing their children. And when they had finished, the commenced singing and the singing was entrancing. The dancing and singing were both excellent. On going away, they left behind them money, not a little for the use of the house. And afterward they came pretty often to the house and received a hearty welcome in consequence of the large presents which they left behind them on the hob. But at last a sad affair took place which was no less than the exchange of children. The Gors Goch baby was a dumpy child, a sweet, pretty, affectionate little dear, but the child which was left in its stead was a sickly, thin, shapeless, ugly being which did nothing but cry and eat, though it ate ravenously like a mastiff, it did not grow. At last the wife of Gors Goch died of a broken heart and so did all her children but the father lived a long life and became a rich man, because his new heirs family had brought him abundance of gold and silver

  Garth Uchaf, Llanuwchllyn Changeling Legend

  The wife of Garth Uchaf, Llanuwchllyn, went out one day to make hay and left her baby in the cradle. Unfortunately she did not place the tongs crossways on the cradle, and consequently the Fairies changed her baby and by the time she came home there was nothing in the cradle but some old decrepit changeling which looked as if it was half famished but, nevertheless, it was nursed.

  The reason why the Fairies exchanged babies with human beings was their desire to obtain healthy well-formed children in the place of their own puny, ill-shaped offspring but this is hardly a satisfactory explanation of such conduct. A mother’s love is ever depicted as being so intense that deformity on the part of her child rather increases then diminishes her affection for her unfortunate babe. There was once thought that the Fairies were obliged every seventh year to pay the great enemy of mankind an offering of one of their o
wn children or a human child instead and as a mother is ever a mother whether she be elve’s flesh or Eve’s flesh, she always endeavoured to substitute some one else’s child for her own, and hence the reason for exchanging children.

  The Rev. Peter Roberts’s theory was that the smaller race kidnapped the children of the stronger race who occupied the country concurrently with themselves for the purpose of adding to their own strength as a people.

  Gay, in lines quoted in Brand’s Popular Antiquities, laughs at the idea of changelings. A Fairy’s tongue ridicules the superstition:

  Whence sprung the vain conceited lye,

  That we the world with fools supply,

  What! Give our sprightly race away

  For the dull, hapless sons of clay.

  Besides, by partial fondness shows

  Like you we dote upon our own.

  Where ever yet was found a mother

  Who’d give her booby for another?

  And should we change with human breed

  Well might we pass for fools indeed.

  With the above fine satire I bring my remarks on Fairy Changelings to a close.

  The Ankou

  For the ancient Celts, death was a transition from one form of existence into another: from the material world that we know and experience every day to a mystical Otherworld that lay just outside our realm of consciousness. This transition from one reality to another was accomplished in a number of ways. The dying person could be carried off by beautiful maidens, as in the death of the Celtic King Arthur, or he or she could be carried off by dark horsemen, who appear in several Irish and Manx tales.

  The most common method for carrying off the souls of the dead in Ireland, Scotland, and Brittany, however, was the “death coach,” a fearsome vehicle that traveled about the night-bound roads, collecting the spirits of those who had died to take them to the Otherworld (and during the Christian period to Paradise or Hell). In Ireland, it was known as the “coshta-bodhr” (coach-a-bower) or “deaf coach,” as it’s passing made no sound—although this wasn’t always the case. Sometimes, the thing rumbled along so fast along the Irish roads that it set the very bushes along the roadsides on fire. It was a conveyance that inspired awe and terror.