To this Essay on the “Folk-lore of North Wales,” was awarded the first prize at the Welsh National Eisteddfod, held in London, in 1887. The prize consisted of a silver medal, and £20. The adjudicators were Canon Silvan Evans, Professor Rhys, and Mr Egerton Phillimore, editor of the Cymmrodor.

By an arrangement with the Eisteddfod Committee, the work became the property of the publishers, Messrs. Woodall, Minshall, & Co., who, at the request of the author, entrusted it to him for revision, and the present Volume is the result of his labours.

Before undertaking the publishing of the work, it was necessary to obtain a sufficient number of subscribers to secure the publishers from loss. Upwards of two hundred ladies and gentlemen gave their names to the author, and the work of publication was commenced. The names of the subscribers appear at the end of the book, and the writer thanks them one and all for their kind support. It is more than probable that the work would never have been published had it not been for their kind assistance. Although the study of Folk-lore is of growing interest, and its importance to the historian is being acknowledged; still, the publishing of a work on the subject involved a considerable risk of loss to the printers, which, however, has been removed in this case, at least to a certain extent, by those who have subscribed for the work.

The sources of the information contained in this essay are various, but the writer is indebted, chiefly, to the aged inhabitants of Wales, for his information. In the discharge of his official duties, as Diocesan Inspector of Schools, he visited annually, for seventeen years, every parish in the Diocese of St. Asaph, and he was thus brought into contact with young and old. He spent several years in Carnarvonshire, and he had a brother, the Revd. Elijah Owen, M.A., a Vicar in Anglesey, from whom he derived much information. By his journeys he became acquainted with many people in North Wales, and he hardly ever failed in obtaining from them much singular and valuable information of bye-gone days, which there and then he dotted down on scraps of paper, and afterwards transferred to note books, which still are in his possession.

It was his custom, after the labour of school inspection was over, to ask the clergy with whom he was staying to accompany him to the most aged inhabitants of their parish. This they willingly did, and often in the dark winter evenings, lantern in hand, they sallied forth on their journey, and in this way a rich deposit of traditions and superstitions was struck and rescued from oblivion. Not a few of the clergy were themselves in full possession of all the quaint sayings and Folk-lore of their parishes, and they were not loath to transfer them to the writer’s keeping. In the course of this work, the writer gives the names of the many aged friends who supplied him with information, and also the names of the clergy who so willingly helped him in his investigations. But so interesting was the matter obtained from several of his clerical friends, that he thinks he ought in justice to acknowledge their services in this preface. First and foremost comes up to his mind, the Rev. R. Jones, formerly Rector of Llanycil, Bala, but now of Llysfaen, near Abergele. This gentleman’s memory is stored with reminiscences of former days, and often and again his name occurs in these pages. The Rev. Canon Owen Jones, formerly Vicar of Pentrefoelas, but now of Bodelwyddan, near Rhyl, also supplied much interesting information of the people’s doings in former days, and I may state that this gentleman is also acquainted with Welsh literature to an extent seldom to be met with in the person of an isolated Welsh parson far removed from books and libraries. To him I am indebted for the perusal of many MSS. To the Rev. David James, formerly Rector of Garthbeibio, now of Pennant, and to his predecessor the Rev. W. E. Jones, Bylchau; the late Rev. Ellis Roberts (Elis Wyn o Wyrfai); the Rev. M. Hughes, Derwen; the Rev. W. J. Williams, Llanfihangel-Glyn-Myfyr, and in a great degree to his aged friend, the Rev. E. Evans, Llanfihangel, near Llanfyllin, whose conversation in and love of Welsh literature of all kinds, including old Welsh Almanacks, was almost without limit, and whose knowledge and thorough sympathy with his countrymen made his company most enjoyable. To him and to all these gentlemen above named, and to others, whose names appear in the body of this work, the writer is greatly indebted, and he tenders his best thanks to them all.

The many books from which quotations are made are all mentioned in connection with the information extracted from their pages.

Welsh Folk-lore is almost inexhaustible, and in these pages the writer treats of only one branch of popular superstitions. Ancient customs are herein only incidentally referred to, but they are very interesting, and worthy of a full description. Superstitions associated with particular days and seasons are also omitted. Weather signs are passed over, Holy wells around which cluster superstitions of bye-gone days form no part of this essay. But on all these, and other branches of Folk-lore, the author has collected much information from the aged Welsh peasant, and possibly some day in the uncertain future he may publish a continuation of the present volume.

He has already all but finished a volume on the Holy Wells of North Wales, and this he hopes to publish at no very distance period.

The author has endeavoured in all instances to give the names of his informants, but often and again, when pencil and paper were produced, he was requested not to mention in print the name of the person who was speaking to him. This request was made, not because the information was incorrect, but from false delicacy; still, in every instance, the writer respected this request. He, however, wishes to state emphatically that he has authority for every single bit of Folk-lore recorded. Very often his work was merely that of a translator, for most of his information, derived from the people, was spoken in Welsh, but he has given in every instance a literal rendering of the narrative, just as he heard it, without embellishments or additions of any kind whatsoever.

ELIAS OWEN

Llanyblodwel Vicarage,
St. Mark’s Day, 1896.

r he was able to spot them and mark them in such a way that they were known to be culprits. I am indebted to Mr. Jones, Rector of Bylchau, near Denbigh, for the three following stories, in which the very dread of being marked by Shon was sufficient to make the thieves restore the stolen property.

Stolen property discovered through fear of applying to the Llanbrynmair Conjuror.

Richard Thomas, Post Office, Llangadfan, lost a coat and waistcoat, and he suspected a certain man of having stolen them. One day this man came to the shop, and Thomas saw him there, and, speaking to his wife from the kitchen in a loud voice, so as to be heard by his customer in the shop, he said that he wanted the loan of a horse to go to Llanbrynmair. Llanbrynmair was, as we know, the conjuror’s place of abode. Thomas, however, did not leave his house, nor did he intend doing so, but that very night the stolen property was returned, and it was found the next morning on the door sill.

Reclaiming stolen property through fear of the Conjuror.

A mason engaged in the restoration of Garthbeibio Church placed a trowel for safety underneath a stone, but by morning it was gone. Casually in the evening he informed his fellow workmen that he had lost his trowel, and that someone must have stolen it, but that he was determined to find out the thief by taking a journey to Llanbrynmair. He never went, but the ruse was successful, for the next morning he found, as he suspected would be the case, the trowel underneath the very stone where he had himself placed it.

Another similar Tale.

Thirty pounds were stolen from Glan-yr-afon, Garthbeibio. The owner made known to his household that he intended going to Shon the conjuror, to ascertain who had taken his money, but the next day the money was discovered, being restored, as was believed, by the thief the night before.

These stories show that the ignorant and superstitious were influenced through fear, to restore what they had wrongfully appropriated, and their faith in the conjuror’s power thus resulted, in some degree, in good to the community. The Dyn Hyspys was feared where no one else was feared, and in this way the supposed conjuror was not altogether an unimportant nor unnecessary member of society. At a time, particularly when people are in a low state of civilization, or when they still cling to the pagan faith of their forefathers, transmitted to them from remote ages, then something can be procured for the good of a benighted people even through the medium of the Gwr Cyfarwydd.

Events occurred occasionally by a strange coincidence through which the fame of the Dyn Hyspys became greatly increased. An event of this kind is related by Mr. Edward Hamer. He states that:—

“Two respectable farmers, living in the upper Vale of the Severn (Cwm Glyn Hafren), and standing in relationship to each other of uncle and nephew, a few years ago purchased each a pig of the same litter, from another farmer. When bought, both animals were, to all appearance, in excellent health and condition, and for a short time after their removal to their new homes both continued to improve daily. It was not long, however, before both were taken ill very suddenly. As there appeared something very strange in the behaviour of his animal, the nephew firmly believed that he was ‘witched,’ and acting upon this belief, set out for the neighbouring conjuror. Having received certain injunctions from the ‘wise man,’ he returned home, carried them out, and had the satisfaction of witnessing the gradual recovery of his pig. The uncle paid no attention to the persuasions and even entreaties of his nephew; he would not believe that his pig was ‘witched,’ and refused to consult the conjuror. The pig died after an illness of three weeks; and many thought the owner deserved little sympathy for manifesting so much obstinacy and scepticism. These events occurred in the spring of the year 1870, and were much talked of at the time.”—Montgomeryshire Collections, vol. x., p. 240.

Conjurors retained their repute by much knavery and collusion with others.

Tales are not wanted that expose their impostures. The Rev. Meredith Hamer, late of Berse, told me of the following exposure of a conjuror. I know not where the event occurred, but it is a typical case.

A Conjuror’s Collusion exposed.

This man’s house consisted of but few rooms. Between the kitchen and his study, or consulting room, was a slight partition. He had a servant girl, whom he admitted as a partner in his trade. This girl, when she saw a patient approach the house, which she was able to do, because there was only one approach to it, and only one entrance, informed her master of the fact that someone was coming, and he immediately disappeared, and he placed himself in a position to hear the conversation of the girl with the person who had come to consult him. The servant by questioning the party adroitly obtained that information respecting the case which her master required, and when she had obtained the necessary information, he would appear, and forthwith tell the stranger that he knew hours before, or days ago, that he was to have the visit now paid him, and then he would relate all the particulars which he had himself heard through the partition, to the amazement of the stranger, who was ignorant of this means of communication.

At other times, if a person who wished to consult him came to the house when the conjuror was in the kitchen, he would disappear as before, stating that he was going to consult his books, and then his faithful helper would proceed to extort the necessary information from the visitor. On this, he would re-appear and exhibit his wonderful knowledge to the amazed dupe.

On one occasion, though, a knowing one came to the conjuror with his arm in a sling, and forthwith the wise man disappeared, leaving the maid to conduct the necessary preliminary examination, and her visitor minutely described how the accident had occurred, and how he had broken his arm in two places, etc.

All this the conjuror heard, and he came into the room and rehearsed all that he had heard; but the biter was bitten, for the stranger, taking his broken arm out of the sling, in no very polite language accused the conjuror of being an impostor, and pointed out the way in which the collusion had been carried out between him and his maid.

This was an exposure the conjuror had not foreseen!

The Conjuror’s Dress.

Conjurors, when engaged in their uncanny work, usually wore a grotesque dress and stood within a circle of protection. I find so graphic a description of a doctor who dealt in divination in Mr. Hancock’s “History of Llanrhaiadr-yn-Mochnant” that I will transcribe it:—“He” (the raiser of the devils) “was much resorted to by the friends of parties mentally deranged, many of whom he cured. Whenever he assumed to practise the ‘black art,’ he put on a most grotesque dress, a cap of sheepskin with a high crown, bearing a plume of pigeons’ feathers, and a coat of unusual pattern, with broad hems, and covered with talismanic characters. In his hand he had a whip, the thong of which was made of the skin of an eel, and the handle of bone. With this he drew a circle around him, outside of which, at a proper distance, he kept those persons who came to him, whilst he went through his mystic sentences and performances.”—Montgomeryshire Collections, vol. vi, pp. 329-30.