Part 20

On the side of the old road, between Cerrig-y-drudion and Bettws-y-Coed--long before this latter place had become the resort of artists--stood an inn, which was much resorted to, as it was a convenient lodging house for travellers on their way to Ireland. This inn stood near the present village of Bettws-y-Coed. Many robberies occurred here. Travellers who put up there for the night were continually deprived of their money, and no one could tell how this occurred, for the lodgers were certain that no one had entered their rooms, as they were found locked in the morning just as they were the night before. The mystery was, therefore, great. By and by, one of those who had lost his money consulted _Huw Llwyd_, who lived at Cynvael, in the parish of Festiniog, and he promised to unravel the mystery. Now, Huw Llwyd had been an officer in the army, and, equipped in his regimentals, with sword dangling by his side, he presented himself one evening at the suspected inn, and asked whether he could obtain a room and bed for the night; he represented himself as on his way to Ireland, and he found no difficulty in obtaining a night's lodging. The inn was kept by two sisters of prepossessing appearance, and the traveller made himself most agreeable to these ladies, and entertained them with tales of his travels in foreign parts. On retiring for the night he stated that it was a habit with him to burn lights in his room all night, and he was supplied with a sufficient quantity of candles to last through the night. The request, as Hugh Llwyd was a military man, did not arouse suspicion. Huw retired, and made his arrangements for a night of watching. He placed his clothes on the floor within easy reach of his bed, and his sword unsheathed lay on the bed close to his right hand. He had secured the door, and now as the night drew on he was all attention; ere long two cats stealthily came down the partition between his room and the next to it. Huw feigned sleep, the cats frisked here and there in the room, but the sleeper awoke not; they chased each other about the room, and played and romped, and at last they approached Huw's clothes and played with them, and here they seemed to get the greatest amusement; they turned the clothes about and over, placing their paws now on that string, and now on that button, and ere long their paws were inserted into the pockets of his clothes, and, just as one of the cats had her paw in the pocket that contained Huw Llwyd's purse, he like lightning struck the cat's paw with his sword. With terrible screams they both disappeared, and nothing further was seen of them during the night.

Next morning, only one of the sisters appeared at the breakfast table. To the traveller's enquiry after the absent lady of the house, her sister said that she was slightly indisposed, and could not appear.

Huw Llwyd expressed regret at this, but, said he--"I must say good-bye to her, for I greatly enjoyed her company last night." He would not be refused, so ultimately he was admitted to her presence. After expressing his sympathy and regret at her illness, the soldier held out his hand to bid good-bye to the lady. She put out her left hand; this Huw refused to take, averring that he had never taken a left hand in his life, and that he would not do so now. Very reluctantly, and with evident pain, she put out her right hand, which was bandaged, and this fact cleared up the mystery connected with the robberies. These two ladies were two witches, who in the form of cats had robbed travellers who lodged under their roof. Huw, when he made this discovery said--"I am Huw Llwyd of Cynvael, and I warn you of the risk you have incurred by your thefts, and I promise you I will not let you off so easily the next time I have need to visit you."

The preceding tale is circumstantial, but unfortunately similar tales are current in other places, as shown by the following quotation:--

"The last instance of national credulity on this head was the story of the witches of Thurso, who, tormenting for a long time an honest fellow under the usual form of a cat, at last provoked him so that one night he put them to flight with his broad sword and _cut off the leg_ of one less nimble than the rest. On his taking it up, to his amazement _he found it belonged to a female of his own species_, and next morning discovered the owner, an old hag, with only the companion leg to this."

_Brand's Popular Antiquities_, pp. 318-319.

_The Witches' Revenge on Huw Llwyd_.

Several months after the occurrence recorded above of Huw Llwyd, when he had just started from his home one Sunday morning to go to his Church to officiate there, for he was the parson of Llan Festiniog, he observed that the Bettws-y-Coed ladies were approaching his house, and he perceived that their object was to witch him. He knew full well that as long as his back was turned towards them he was in their power, but that when he faced them they could do him no harm; so; to avoid their evil influence, and to frustrate their designs, he faced them, and walked backwards every step from Cynvael to the Llan, and in this way he escaped being injured by his female enemies. But this was not all. Huw Llwyd knew that when he reached the Church porch he was beyond witchcraft's reach. Having arrived there he shouted out--"I defy you now, and before I leave the Church I will make you that you can never again witch anyone." He was as good as his word, for by his skill in the black art, he deprived those two ladies, ere he left the Church, of their power to witch people, and during the rest of their lives they were like other women.

Huw Llwyd, who was born 1533, and died 1620, was a clergyman, and it was generally believed that priests could counteract the evils of the enemy of mankind.

The wide-spread belief of witches being able to transform themselves into animals is shown in the legends of many countries, and, as in the case of fairy stories, the same tale, slightly changed, may be heard in various places. The possibility of injuring or _marking_ the witch in her assumed form so deeply that the bruise remained a mark on her in her natural form was a common belief. A tale in certain points like the one recorded of Huw Llwyd and the witches who turned themselves into cats is to be heard in many parts of Wales. It is as follows. I quote the main facts from my friend Mr. Hamer's account of Llanidloes, published in the _Montgomeryshire Collections_, vol. x., p. 243:--

_A Witch transformed into a Hare injured by one whom she tormented_.

"An old woman, thought to be a witch, was said by a neighbour to be in the habit of visiting her nightly in the shape of a hare, and that in consequence she was deprived of her rest. The witch came to her bed, as a hare, and crossed it, and the tormented one was determined to put an end to this persecution. For this purpose she procured a hammer, which she placed under her pillow when she retired to rest. That night the old witch, unaware of the reception awaiting her, paid her usual visit to her victim. But the instant she jumped on the bed she received a stunning blow on the head, and, it need not be added, disappeared. Next morning, a friend of the persecuted woman, who was in the secret of the whole case, on some pretext paid the old woman, the supposed witch, a visit, and she was greatly astonished to find her laid up, suffering from a frightful black eye, which her visitor believed to be the result of the blow dealt her with the hammer on the previous night."

_A Witch shot when in the form of a Hare_.

The following tale was told me by the Rev. R. Jones, Rector of Llanycil:--

An old woman was evicted from a small farm, which she and her family had held for many years. She was naturally greatly annoyed at such conduct on the part of the landlord, and of the person who supplanted her. However, she procured a small cottage close by her late home, and there she lived. But the interloper did not get on, for she was troubled by a hare that came nightly to her house. A labouring man, when going to his work early in the morning, time after time saw a hare going from the farm towards the cottage occupied by this old woman, and he determined to shoot this hare. He procured an old gun, and loaded it with pebbles instead of shot, and awaited the approach of the hare. It came as usual, the man fired, and the hare rolled over and over, screaming and making a terrible noise. He, however, did not heed this much, for hares, when shot, do scream, and so he went to secure the hare, but when he attempted to seize it, it changed into all shapes, and made horrible sounds, and the man was so terrified that he ran away, and he was very glad to get away from the scene of this shocking occurrence. In a few days afterwards the old woman who occupied the cottage was found dead, and it was noticed by the woman who laid her out that her arm and shoulder were riddled with pebbles. It was thought that she was a witch, and that she had troubled the people who had deprived her of her farm, and that she did so in the shape of a hare, and no one doubted that the injury inflicted on the old woman was anything more than the shot of the man, who supposed that he had killed a hare, when in reality he shot and killed the old woman. The farmer was never troubled after the death of the woman whom he had supplanted.

Many variants of this tale are still extant. The parish clerk of Llangadfan, a mountainous parish in Montgomeryshire, gave me one, which he located in Nant-yr-eira, but as it is in its main points much like the preceding, I will not relate it.

_A Witch in the form of a Hare in a Churn_.

In the _Spectator_, No. 117, are these words:--

"If the dairy-maid does not make her butter come so soon as she would have it, _Moll White_ (a supposed witch) is at the bottom of the churn."

Until very lately I had thought that the milk only was considered bewitched if it could not be churned, and not that the witch herself was at the bottom of the churn. But I have been disabused of this false notion, for the Rector of Llanycil told me the following story, which was told him by his servant girl, who figures in the tale. When this girl was servant at Drws-y-nant, near Dolgelley, one day, the milk would not churn. They worked a long time at it to no purpose. The girl thought that she heard something knocking up and down in the churn, and splashing about. She told her master there was something in the churn, but he would not believe her; however, they removed the lid, and out jumped a large hare, and ran away through the open door, and this explained all difficulties, and proved that the milk was bewitched, and that the witch herself was in the churn in the shape of a hare.

This girl affirmed that she had seen the hare with her own eyes.

As the hare was thought to be a form assumed by witches it was impossible for ordinary beings to know whether they saw a hare, or a witch in the form of a hare, when the latter animal appeared and ran before them along the road, consequently the hare, as well as the witch, augured evil. An instance of this confusion of ideas was related to the writer lately by Mr. Richard Jones, Tyn-y-wern, Bryneglwys.

_A Hare crossing the Road_.

Mr. Jones said that when he was a lad, he and his mother went to Caerwys fair from the Vale of Clwyd, intending to sell a cow at the fair. They had not gone far on their way before a large hare crossed the road, hopping and halting and looking around. His mother was vexed at the sight, and she said--"We may as well go home, Dick, for no good will come of our journey since that old witch crosses our path." They went on, though, and reached Caerwys in safety, but they got no bid for the cow, although they stayed there all day long.

_A Witch in the form of a Hare hunted by a Black Greyhound_.

The writer has heard variants of the following tale in several parts of Wales:--

An old woman, credited to be a witch, lived on the confines of the hills in a small hut in south Carnarvonshire. Her grandson, a sharp intelligent lad, lived with her. Many gentlemen came to that part with greyhounds for the purpose of coursing, and the lad's services were always in requisition, for he never failed in starting a hare, and whenever he did so he was rewarded with a shilling. But it was noticed that the greyhounds never caught the hare which the lad started. The sport was always good, the race long and exciting, but the hare never failed to elude her pursuers. Scores of times this occurred, until at last the sportsmen consulted a wise man, who gave it as his opinion that this was no ordinary hare, but a witch, and, said he--"She can never be caught but by a black greyhound." A dog of this colour was sought for far and near, and at last found and bought. Away to the hills the coursers went, believing that now the hare was theirs. They called at the cottage for the lad to accompany them and start the prey. He was as ready as ever to lead them to their sport. The hare was soon started, and off the dog was slipped and started after it, and the hare bounded away as usual, but it is now seen that her pursuer is a match for her in swiftness, and, notwithstanding the twistings and windings, the dog was soon close behind the distressed hare.

The race became more and more exciting, for hound and hare exerted themselves to their very utmost, and the chase became hot, and still hotter. The spectators shout in their excitement--"_Hei! ci du_," ("_Hi! black dog_,") for it was seen that he was gaining on his victim. "_Hei! Mam_, _gu_," ("_Hei! grandmother_, _dear_,") shouted the lad, forgetting in his trouble that his grandmother was in the form of a hare. His was the only encouraging voice uttered on behalf of the poor hunted hare. His single voice was hardly heard amidst the shouts of the many. The pursuit was long and hard, dog and hare gave signs of distress, but shouts of encouragement buoyed up the strength of the dog. The chase was evidently coming to a close, and the hare was approaching the spot whence it started. One single heart was filled with dread and dismay at the failing strength of the hare, and from that heart came the words--"_Hei! Mam gu_" ("_Hi! grandmother_, _dear_.") All followed the chase, which was now nearing the old woman's cottage, the window of which was open. With a bound the hare jumped through the small casement into the cottage, but the black dog was close behind her, and just as she was disappearing through the window, he bit the hare and retained a piece of her skin in his mouth, but he could not follow the hare into the cottage, as the aperture was too small. The sportsmen lost no time in getting into the cottage, but, after much searching, they failed to discover puss. They, however, saw the old woman seated by the fire spinning. They also noticed that there was blood trickling from underneath her seat, and this they considered sufficient proof that it was the witch in the form of a hare that had been coursed and had been bitten by the dog just as she bounded into the cottage.

It was believed in England, as well as in Wales, that witches were often hunted in the shape of hares. Thus in the _Spectator_, No. 117, these words occur:--

"If a hare makes an unexpected escape from the hounds the huntsman curses _Moll White_ (the witch)!" "Nay," (says Sir Roger,) "I have known the master of the pack, upon such an occasion, send one of his servants to see if _Moll White_ had been out that morning."

In _Yorkshire Legends and Traditions_, p. 160, is a tale very much like the one which is given above. It is as follows:--

"There was a hare which baffled all the greyhounds that were slipped at her. They seemed to have no more chance with her than if they coursed the wind. There was, at the time, a noted witch residing near, and her advice was asked about this wonderful hare. She seemed to have little to say about it, however, only she thought they had better let it be, but, above all, they must take care how they slipped a _black_ dog at it. Nevertheless, either from recklessness or from defiance, the party did go out coursing, soon after, with a black dog. The dog was slipped, and they perceived at once that puss was at a disadvantage. She made as soon as possible for a stone wall, and endeavoured to escape through a sheep-hole at the bottom. Just as she reached this hole the dog threw himself upon her and caught her in the haunch, but was unable to hold her. She got through and was seen no more. The sportsmen, either in bravado or from terror of the consequences, went straight to the house of the witch to inform her of what had happened. They found her in bed, hurt, she said, by a fall; but the wound looked very much as if it had been produced by the teeth of a dog, and it was on a part of the woman corresponding to that by which the hare had been seized by the black hound before their eyes."

_Early reference to Witches turning themselves into Hares_.

The prevalence of the belief that witches could transform themselves into hares is seen from a remark made by _Giraldus Cambrensis_ in his topography of Ireland. He writes:--

"It has also been a frequent complaint, from old times, as well as in the present, _that certain hags in Wales_, as well as in Ireland and Scotland, _changed themselves into the shape of hares_, that, sucking teats under this counterfeit, they might stealthily rob other people's milk."

_Giraldus Cambrensis_, Bohn's Edition, p. 83.

This remark of the Archdeacon's gives a respectable antiquity to the metamorphosis of witches, for it was in 1185 that he visited Ireland, and he tells us that what he records had descended from "old times."

The transformation fables that have descended to us would seem to be fossils of a pagan faith once common to the Celtic and other cognate races. It was not thought that certain harmless animals only could become the temporary abode of human beings. Even a wolf could be human under an animal form. Thus _Giraldus Cambrensis_ records that a priest was addressed in Ireland by a wolf, and induced to administer the consolations of his priestly office to his wife, who, also, under the shape of a she-wolf was apparently at the point of death, and to convince the priest that she was really a human being the he-wolf, her husband, tore off the skin of the she-wolf from the head down to the navel, folding it back, and she immediately presented the form of an old woman to the astonished priest. These people were changed into wolves through the curse of one Natalis, Saint and Abbot, who compelled them every seven years to put off the human form and depart from the dwellings of men as a punishment for their sins. (See _Giraldus Cambrensis_, Bohn's Edition, pp. 79-81.)

_Ceridwen and Gwion_ (_Gwiawn_) _Bach's Transformation_.

But a striking instance of rapid transition from one form to another is given in the _Mabinogion_. The fable of Ceridwen's cauldron is as follows:--

"Ceridwen was the wife of Tegid Voel. They had a son named Morvran, and a daughter named Creirwy, and she was the most beautiful girl in the world, and they had another son named Avagddu, the ugliest man in the world. Ceridwen, seeing that he should not be received amongst gentlemen because of his ugliness, unless he should be possessed of some excellent knowledge or strength . . . . ordered a cauldron to be boiled of knowledge and inspiration for her son. The cauldron was to be boiled unceasingly for one year and a day until there should be in it three blessed drops of the spirit's grace.

"These three drops fell on the finger of Gwion Bach of Llanfair Caereinion in Powis, whom she ordered to attend to the cauldron. The drops were so hot that Gwion Bach put his finger to his mouth; no sooner done, than he came to know all things. Now he _transformed himself into a hare_, and ran away from the wrath of Ceridwen. She also _transformed herself into a greyhound_, and went after him to the side of a river. Gwion on this jumped into the river and transformed himself into a fish. She also transformed herself into an otter-bitch, and chased him under the water until he was fain to turn himself into a bird of the air; she, as a hawk, followed him, and gave him no rest in the sky. And just as she was about to swoop upon him, and he was in fear of death, he espied a heap of winnowed wheat on the floor of a barn, and he dropped among the wheat and buried himself into one of the grains. Then she transformed herself into a high-crested black hen, and went to the wheat and scratched it with her feet, and found him and swallowed him."

The tale of Ceridwen, whose fame was such that she can without exaggeration be styled the goddess of witches, resembles in part the chase of the witch-hare by the black dog, and probably her story gave rise to many tales of transformations.

I now come to another kind of transformation. It was believed by the aged in Wales that witches could not only turn themselves into hares, but that by incantation they could change other people into animals. My friend, the Rev. T. Lloyd Williams, Wrexham, lodged whilst he was at Ystrad Meurig School with a Mrs. Jones, Dolfawr, who was a firm believer in "Rhibo" or Rheibo, or witching, and this lady told my friend the following tales of _Betty'r Bont_, a celebrated witch in those parts.

_A Man turned into a Hare_.