Stranger Than Fiction Part 9

I am reminded of another and quite modern instance of a Welsh witch's curse, though to avoid localisation I will not say exactly where she lived in the Princ.i.p.ality. Her father was cowman at a house called Fairview, inhabited by a family called Trower. Mr. Trower possessed a rather savage bull, which one day broke loose, charged all who tried to catch him, and finally, sad to relate, gored and killed the poor cowman.

He had lived in a cottage on the estate, and nothing could exceed the kindness and sympathy shown by the Trower family to his daughter in her bereavement. We will call her Patty Jones. After a decent interval had elapsed, Mr. Trower gave the woman notice to quit, as the cottage was wanted for somebody else. Although every indulgence regarding the notice was given, and continual consideration shown, Patty, being a woman of violent and ungrateful temper, took the matter very badly. She refused to go, and was eventually evicted, and her goods sold. It is said that meeting Mr. Trower on the road one day, she took the occasion to call down the wrath of Heaven upon him and his family, and made no secret afterwards of having "put a curse" upon her benefactors, for such indeed the Trowers had shown themselves. Whether it is ever really given to any human being so to blast the lives of fellow-creatures or not, one cannot tell. But it is certain that this particular family thereafter appeared for some years to be singled out by fate for more than their fair share of ill-luck, though, to avoid recognition, further details must not be given here.

At the sale of her goods a man named Morgan happened to buy Patty Jones's cow. Whereupon she told him she would "put a curse" on the animal, so that "he would never get any good from her." Sure enough, soon afterwards the cow sickened with a mysterious complaint, which defied the skill of the local "cow-doctor." So Morgan, advised by his neighbours, went to seek counsel of a "white witch," who gave him a charm which she said would cure the cow. "And now," she added, "wouldn't you like me to put a curse on that woman? Because I can if you wish it."

But Morgan magnanimously replied, "Oh, no. _I do not wish_ her any harm whatever," and departed with his charm and cured his cow. It would be interesting to know the nature of this "charm," whether it was a written form of incantation, or something of the nature of a medicine. Mr.

Henderson, whose interesting book on folk-lore I have already quoted, tells us of a piece of silver at Lockerby in Dumfries-shire, called the Lockerby Penny, which was used against madness in cattle. It was put into a cleft stick, and the water of a well stirred round with it, after which the water was bottled off and given to any animal so afflicted. In other districts certain pebbles and stones are supposed to have the same magic property.

Some Welsh witches are said to treat their patients with sulphur, a remedy which I think savours more of "black magic" than "white."

It seems that a favourite trick of North Cardiganshire witches was to "put a spell" on the pigs of any neighbour who annoyed them, making the poor animals _pranking_ mad (as my informant expressed it). And nothing would cure this madness till the witch had been fetched, and (doubtless for a consideration) consented to remove the spell.

However, belief in the powers of "wise" men and women is now chiefly confined to their abilities as healers, and in this capacity they are still resorted to in the more remote districts of Cardiganshire. The cure--whatever the malady--appears to be always the same, and is called "measuring the wool." The witch takes two pieces of yarn--scarlet for choice--of exactly the same length. One of these is bound round the wrist or leg of the patient; the other is worn in the same way by the healer. The patient goes home, and after a few days the witch measures her own piece of yarn. If it has shrunk from the original length, well and good; the yarn continues to grow shorter (so it is said) and the patient recovers. But if on the contrary the yarn grows perceptibly slacker, the patient gets worse and will surely die. The person who told me about the bewitched pigs had also much to say regarding this practice of "measuring the yarn." She declared that quite lately a friend of hers, a young man, who was very ill with "decline" and for whom ordinary doctors could do nothing, went at last to consult a "wise woman" in the parish of Eglwysfach[17] in North Cardiganshire. She measured the yarn for him, and he immediately began to recover and is now well and working at the business which ill-health had forced him to leave. In this case faith must have been a strong factor towards recovery. But

"I cannot tell how the truth may be; I say the tale as 'twas said to me."

[Footnote 17: "Eglwysfach" is the real name, and in "Welsh Folk-lore"

Mr. Owen relates a case of "measuring the yarn" in the same village, where the custom seems to have been long prevalent and firmly believed in. His account of the charming for a case of "Clefyd y Galon" (or heart-sickness) is worth quoting. The patient was bidden to roll his sleeves up above the elbow, then "Mr. Jenkins (a respectable farmer and deacon amongst the Wesleyans) took a yarn thread and placing one end on the elbow measured to the tip of Felix's (the patient) middle finger, then he tells his patient to take hold of the yarn at one end, the other end resting the while on the elbow, and he was to take fast hold of it, and stretch it. This he did and the yarn lengthened, and this was a sign he was actually sick of heart-disease. Then the charmer tied the yarn around the patient's left arm above the elbow, and there it was left, and in the next visit measured again, and he was p.r.o.nounced cured."]

Only a year ago, in my own district, I heard of a young girl being taken to the local "wise man" to have "her wool measured," but in her case the charm does not seem to have worked well, as though she did not die, she is still ailing. Another wizard, who died only last year, was an old man who lived at Trawscoed in Cardiganshire. He also worked cures with scarlet worsted, and enjoyed a great local reputation.

The use of scarlet wool as a charm is of great antiquity, and is supposed to be originally derived from the practices of the magicians of Babylon. And according to Theocritus, the Greek maidens used it as a charm to bring back faithless lovers. Mr. Elworthy, in his book on the "Evil Eye," refers to the ancient use made of coloured yarn in incantations, quoting from Petronius: "She then took from her bosom a web of twisted threads of various colours, and bound it on my neck."

In South Wales, as in many other districts, witches were supposed to have the power of transforming themselves into hares. Especially, as I have said before, was this superst.i.tion rife in North Cardiganshire, and there to this day, any hare that has white about it is called "a witch hare," and it is held very unlucky to kill it, while until quite lately incidents such as the following were freely repeated and firmly believed among the shepherds, small farmers, and miners who composed the scanty population of those lonely hills.

One day, the story goes, a funeral party was proceeding from the deceased's house towards the churchyard, when suddenly a hare was seen running just ahead of the procession. n.o.body took much notice of it at first, thinking it had merely been disturbed from its form, and would probably soon disappear on one side of the road or the other. There was neither hedge nor fence to prevent its doing so, for the road was only a mountain track, which the hare might have left at any moment to seek cover among the heather and fern of the hill-side. But this it did not do; to the astonishment of all, the animal, apparently not a whit frightened by the people behind, held steadily on its way. Sometimes, of course, owing to its swiftness, it would be lost to view for a few moments, but always a turn of the way would bring it in sight again, and so it led the procession to the burial-ground. Then on a sudden it vanished as mysteriously as it had appeared. For no man could say what direction it took; only that at one moment it was there in plain view of all, and at the next it was gone. And after that, n.o.body present doubted that the creature was no hare, but a witch in that shape, who, scenting the approach of Death, had added her noisome presence to the crowd of mourners, until their arrival on consecrated ground had forced her to fly.

There is a tale belonging to the same district--roughly speaking--of which I have unfortunately only heard the vague outlines, but the incident is worth relating even without details, as it seems extraordinary in whatever way it is explained.

On a certain day, not very many years ago, a hare was hunted somewhere in the hill-country bordering the shires of Montgomery and Cardigan.

From all accounts, never was better sport seen; the animal was game to the last, and by many a twist and turn managed to cheat its pursuers. At last, however, it appeared exhausted; the hounds closed in, and the hunters, immediately behind, saw them hurl themselves upon their quarry.

The huntsman hastened forward, and every one pressed round to see the gallant animal which had given such a splendid run. But where was the hare? Whimpers and yelps of disappointment from the hounds proclaimed that their prey had escaped, but the question was, how? No hare that ever lived could have eluded the hounds as they fairly threw themselves upon her, but still the fact remained, "Puss" had disappeared, vanishing somehow in the very onslaught of tearing, eager hounds, and before the eyes of several spectators. Of course the story in the country has ever been that a "witch hare" was hunted that day, and "every one knows" that nothing but a silver bullet can destroy a witch.

The belief that only a silver bullet can harm a witch is ill.u.s.trated in my next story. It was related to me by the Rector of a certain parish in Pembrokeshire, who said that though the people it concerned had been dead some years, the incident was still repeated with conviction by the country-folk of the district.

There was an old woman living in the village of Llaw----n who was supposed to be a witch and to have the power of changing herself into a hare. It was a.s.serted that she had often been seen in this guise, and several persons tried on various occasions to shoot the uncanny beast.

But no shot would touch it. However, "John the Smith" was a cunning man, and one day he loaded his gun with a silver sixpence in lieu of shot, and went out to look for the "witch hare." Presently he came across it in a field, and then--Bang! went his gun. Instantly the poor animal made off, but the sixpence had evidently found its mark, for as the hare ran it trailed a hind leg behind it. Still, lame as it was, it managed to elude the smith, and, turning in the direction of the village, disappeared. But that evening John went to the house of 'Liza the Witch, and, knocking at the door, cried, "How be'st thou, 'Liza?"

"John, John, thou very well knowest how I be," was the reply. Nor would she allow him to enter. Then John the Smith went home well satisfied that he had done what no one else had been able to do, and had wounded the "witch hare."

Apropos of this belief in a witch's powers of self-transformation, a rather curious incident came under my notice in my own neighbourhood some few months ago. Two gentlemen were partridge-shooting, and in the course of their walk the path they followed should have led them through the garden of a somewhat lonely cottage inhabited by an old woman. This woman was known to be very unpopular with her neighbours, in consequence, it was supposed, of a quarrelsome disposition. When the shooters reached this cottage, they found, to their surprise, that the gate by which they usually pa.s.sed through the premises was fastened with a padlock. A shout produced the old woman from the house, who hastened to let them through, apologising profusely for the padlock, but saying she had been obliged to lock her gate, because "the boys were so bad to her. Look," she added, pointing to the end wall of her cottage, "that is what they did to me last night." And there, nailed to the wall, was a black rabbit. One of the gentlemen, to cheer her, said jokingly, "Oh, that's nothing. A black rabbit! Isn't that lucky?" "No," was the answer, "not lucky; very bad luck, and they knew that very well."

To any one conversant with Cardiganshire superst.i.tions, there is no doubt that the nailing up of the black rabbit was intended to signify that the inhabitant of the house was a witch. True, the animal should have been a hare, but the Ground Game Act having caused hares to become almost extinct in this district, the perpetrators of the insult took the best subst.i.tute they could find in the shape of the black rabbit, well knowing that its sinister significance would not be lost on the poor old woman.

To return for a moment to the Pembrokeshire village we have already mentioned, Llaw----n, where there is a beautiful ruin of a castle, most picturesquely situated on the edge of a wooded cliff overhanging the river Cleddau. In olden times this castle was a place of great importance as a Palace of the Bishops of St. David's, some of whom, it is said, preferred its strong, well-fortified walls to their splendid palace in the episcopal city. And in Llaw----n Castle there was once imprisoned a celebrated witch, Tanglost ferch Glyn, against whom the reigning prelate, Bishop John Morgan, had taken proceedings for some rather serious offence, and whom he p.r.o.nounced "accursed," or, in other words, excommunicated. After escaping once from custody, and being rearrested, Tanglost made submission, and (we presume) did penance, and was at length released, though banished from the diocese of St. David's.

Thereupon she betook herself to Bristol, where, engaging the services of another witch, one Margaret Hackett, she endeavoured to "distrew" her enemy the Bishop by witchcraft. After a time, Tanglost ventured to return to Pembrokeshire, and at a certain house[18] (still well known and inhabited), "in a chambre called Paradise Chambre," made, with Hackett's help, two waxen images for injuring the Bishop. Two images not being powerful enough to do the work, Tanglost and her coadjutor called in the aid of a third party, "which they thought hadde more counynge and experience than they had, and made the IIIrd ymage to distrew the Bishop." However, not only did the prelate continue to live and flourish, but, as was inevitable, knowledge of these sinister designs reached his ears, and Tanglost, with her two a.s.sistants, was summoned to appear for judgment before the Prior of Monckton, who held jurisdiction in her neighbourhood. Escaping for the moment, she again fled to Bristol, but was there reached by the long arm of the Church, and arrested on a charge of heresy. Four Doctors of Divinity considered her case, and handed her over to the Bishop for punishment, which would probably have meant being burnt as a witch in the market-place, if Fate had not again interfered through the efforts of her friends, who caused Tanglost to be arrested on an accusation of debt, bailed her successfully out of prison, and rescued her from the Bishop's emissaries. Then a bill in Chancery was filed against her, praying that the Mayor and Sheriffs of the city of Bristol should be ordered to arrest her, and bring her before the King in Chancery. But to make a long story short, Tanglost, who seems to have been a woman of infinite resource, managed once more to evade this fresh danger, and it is to be supposed eventually died in her bed, in spite of her unlawful traffic with witchcraft. Her persecutor, Bishop John Morgan, held the See of St.

David's from 1496 to 1505, and reference to the Chancery proceedings against Tanglost are to be found at the Record Office under "Early Chancery Proceedings."

[Footnote 18: Perhaps this house had an ancient reputation for possessing an atmosphere suitable for such "works of darkness." For Giraldus Cambrensis, writing three hundred years before the time of Tanglost, mentions it as being haunted by an unclean spirit which "conversed with men, and in reply to their taunts upbraided them openly with everything they had done from their birth, and which they were not willing should be known by others ... the priests themselves, though protected by the crucifix or the holy water, on devoutly entering the house were equally subject to the same insults...."]

The practice of making waxen images of the person to be injured is of immemorial antiquity. We read in Professor Maspero's "Dawn of Civilisation" about the Egyptian magicians that "to compose an irresistible charm they merely required a little blood from a person, a few nail-parings, some hair, or a sc.r.a.p of linen which he had worn, and which from contact with his skin had become impregnated with his personality. Portions of these were incorporated with the wax of a doll which they modelled and clothed to resemble their victim. Thenceforward all the inflictions to which the image was subjected were experienced by the original; he was consumed with fever when his effigy was exposed to the fire, he was wounded when the figure was pierced with a knife.

The Pharaohs themselves had no immunity from these spells." Nor need we go back as far as the Pharaohs to find witches and wizards making use of effigies for the undoing of their enemies. According to Mr. Elworthy, from whose interesting book on the "Evil Eye" I have already quoted, such images and figures were used in quite modern times by "witches"

among the Somersetshire peasants, and dried pigs' and sheeps' hearts studded with pins have been found in old cottages in that county dedicated to the same malevolent purpose. Onions were also sometimes used in the same way. A lady, who lived many years in a rural parish of Somerset, also told me only a few months ago that she had there known several people who were supposed to be witches, and had seen hanging in their chimneys, dried animals' hearts, stuck full of pins, intended to injure their own or other people's enemies.

A well-known "white witch" lives and flourishes to-day in the village of T----n, in South Pembrokeshire. Some most interesting particulars concerning her were sent me a few weeks ago, by a correspondent in that county. My friend wrote: "An old man, David Evans, (no relation to the witch) ... who has worked ... for thirty years, 'failed,' as they say in Pembrokeshire, some time ago, and has done no work for seventeen weeks.

He has had medical advice and medicine, but with no satisfactory results.... He took it into his head that he would consult the 'charmer.' I was on my way to visit him and his wife, when I met Mr.

Blank's bailiff, Pike, who told me he had sent him to T----n that very day, and that I should only find the wife at home.... When I got to the house I found the old man had returned.... He told me whom he had been to see, and I naturally wanted to know all about it. The following is what he told me:

"'When I got to Gwen Davies'[19] house, I told her about myself, and how long I had been ill, and that I had seen the doctor and had bottles of physic and was no better. She made me sit down in a chair and she laid eleven little pieces of straw on the table; then she took a long straw and waved it several times round my head; having done this she went to the table and removed one of the little bits of straw to another part of the table. When this was done she came back to me and repeated the waving of the long straw, and so on till all the eleven little bits of straw had been removed from where they had been put at the beginning.'

[Footnote 19: The witch's name and that of her patient are of course changed.]

"I asked whether the 'charmer' had said anything during this performance. 'She mumbled something each time she was at the table, but I could not make out the words.'

"I inquired then, 'What did she say to you when this was over?'

"David Evans replied that she said that he would recover, but that it would be a long time....

"'What advice did she give you as to what you should eat, drink, and avoid?'

"'Eat all you can get,' she told him, 'but no doctor's stuff, and no drink.' My last inquiry was, 'Did you give her anything?'

"'No,' said the old man, 'she would take nothing.' I think I may safely say this is a properly authenticated narrative."

To this account my friend a few days later added the following postscript.

"To add something to my last letter. I met our Archdeacon ... on Friday, and was telling him about the 'White Witch of T----n'; he had heard of her when he was Vicar of L----n; his account of her proceedings is slightly different from what I wrote to you;--the little bits of straw are more than eleven, and she moves them, not on a table, but on two chairs, transferring them from one to the other; and what the old man described as 'mumbling' is that she repeats pa.s.sages from the Bible.

This latter fact connects, in my mind, her 'hanky-panky' with the old ceremony of 'touching' for the King's Evil."

The slight discrepancy in the details of the witch's proceedings in nowise detracts from the central, most interesting fact, that such professional "charmers" should be still resorted to in the rural districts of Wales by invalids having apparently every faith in their ability to work cures.

It was the Rector of Llaw----n who kindly gave me many particulars of a very famous "wise man" known as Harries of Caio. These are real names; Caio is a parish in Carmarthenshire, and my clerical friend had formerly been Vicar there, though subsequent to Harries' death, which occurred some years ago. But he is well remembered and talked of in the country, and if all tales told of him are true he must have possessed considerable psychic powers, which in these days would by no means be thought supernatural by enlightened people, but which thirty or forty years ago would most certainly have impressed and awed an ignorant peasantry. Harries is described as a fine-looking man with a long beard and remarkably bushy eyebrows. He would occasionally tramp the country, carrying an enormous volume of astrological lore under his arm, leather-bound, with a strong lock attached. This, he said, was to prevent ignorant people reading the charms contained in the book, and thereby raising evil spirits.

Although often consulted as a healer it was on his powers as a seer or prophet that Harries' fame chiefly rested. If any one had a relation ill or in trouble, he would go to the wizard and ask what his friend's fate would be. Harries then put himself into a trance, and when he came out of it would say, "I am sorry for you, but your friend will die," or "he will recover," as the case might be.

But the most interesting story connected with Harries of Caio, and one which the Rector of Llaw----n had heard on excellent authority, is as follows: A certain man in Carmarthenshire started one day to walk over the hills to Breconshire on some farming business. He did not return when expected; time went by, and his friends became alarmed and made inquiries, but to no purpose; nothing could be heard about him. At last the police were called in, but they were equally unsuccessful, and after many weeks had pa.s.sed without news of the missing man, his relations determined as a last resource to apply to the wizard of Caio. So a deputation of them went to his house, and having stated the purpose of their visit were told by Harries that he could give them the information they sought. "But," he added solemnly and with great feeling, "I am sorry to tell you that your friend is no longer alive. If you cross the mountain between Llandovery and Brecon your path will lead you past a ruined house, and near that house there is a large and solitary tree.

Dig at the foot of that tree and you will find him whom you seek." These words of gloomy import only crystallised the feelings of vague foreboding already in the minds of the inquirers, who, after a short consultation, determined to test the truth of the wizard's information.

A small party was formed, who proceeded, according to the seer's directions, along the lonely track that led over the mountain to Brecon, the way by which it was known their friend had intended to travel. After a while they came to a ruined cottage, with a large tree close by--landmarks probably known to most of them. Dead leaves covered the ground beneath the tree, but on raking these aside it was at once seen that the earth had been lately disturbed, and on digging deep below Harries' words were sadly verified by the searchers, who did indeed discover the body of their friend. That a crime had been committed was abundantly clear, but by whom has remained a mystery to this day, nor was any ordinary explanation ever sufficient to account for Harries'

extraordinary information on the subject, all inquiry--and also his high character--precluding the most remote suspicion of his being in any way connected with such a misdeed.

After Harries' death his "magic books" were sold, and are now in the possession of the Registrar of the Welsh University College at Aberystwith.

Mention of Llandovery reminds me of a celebrated "Curse story" connected with Cardiganshire, but which has been so often the theme of abler pens than mine that I shall do little more than refer to it here. Briefly it is this. In the seventeenth century, Maesyfelin Hall, a large house some few miles from Lampeter, was the centre of hospitality and culture in Cardiganshire. Judge Marmaduke Lloyd, owner of the house and great estates, was universally known and respected in South Wales, counting among his intimate friends the well-known Vicar Pritchard of Llandovery, whose book, "Canwyll y Cymru" (The Welshman's Candle), is still much prized for its quaintly pious teaching by all religious Welsh people.

This clergyman had a son, Samuel, who seems to have been a frequent and welcome visitor at Maesyfelin, until a day came when a terrible tragedy occurred. The young man's body, bearing evidence that he had been foully done to death, was found floating in the river Teify, and dark must have been the suspicions of his grief-stricken parent when he could pen words such as the following, fraught with deadly enmity towards his former friends:

"The curse of G.o.d on Maesyfelin fall, On root of every tree, on stone of wall, Because the flower of fair Llandovery town, Was headlong cast in Teivi's flood to drown."

Or in the original Welsh:

"Melldith Duw ar Maesyfelin Ar bob carreg, dan bob gwreiddyn, Am daflu blodeu tref Llandyfri Ar ei ben i Deifi i foddi."