Welsh Folk-Lore Part 28

Such as the preceding were some of the ridiculous trials to which poor, badly clad, aged, toothless, and wrinkled women were put by their superst.i.tious neighbours to ascertain whether these miserable women were in league with the devil.

CONJURORS.

1. It was formerly believed that men could sell themselves to the devil, and thus become the possessors of supernatural power. These men were looked upon as malicious conjurors.

2. Another species of conjurors practised magical arts, having obtained their knowledge from the study of books. These were accounted able to thwart the designs of evil workers of every description.

3. There was another cla.s.s of men supposed to have obtained strange power from their ancestors. They were looked upon as charmers and conjurors by descent.

1. Those who belonged to the first-mentioned cla.s.s were not in communion with the Church, and the first step taken by them to obtain their object was to unbaptize themselves. The process was as follows:--The person who wished to sell himself to the devil went to a Holy Well, took water therefrom three times into his mouth, and spurted it out in a derisive manner, and thus having relieved himself, as it was thought, of his baptismal vow, he was ready and fit to make a contract with the evil one.

2. The second kind of conjurors obtained their knowledge of the occult science from the study of books. Generally learned men were by the ignorant supposed to possess uncanny power. When the writer lived in Carnarvons.h.i.+re he was informed that Owen Williams, Waenfawr, had magical books kept in a box under lock and key, and that he never permitted anyone to see them. Poor Owen Williams, I wonder whether he knew of the popular rumour!

The following tale of Huw Llwyd's books I obtained from the Rev. R.

Jones, rector of Llanycil.

_Huw Llwyd and his Magical Books_.

The story, as it has reached our days, is as follows:--It is said that Huw Llwyd had two daughters; one of an inquisitive turn of mind, like himself, while the other resembled her mother, and cared not for books.

On his death bed he called his learned daughter to his side, and directed her to take his books on the dark science, and throw them into a pool, which he named, from the bridge that spanned the river. The girl went to Llyn Pont Rhyd-ddu with the books, and stood on the bridge, watching the whirlpool beneath, but she could not persuade herself to throw them over, and thus destroy her father's precious treasures. So she determined to tell him a falsehood, and say that she had cast them into the river. On her return home her father asked her whether she had thrown the books into the pool, and on receiving an answer in the affirmative, he, inquiring whether she had seen anything strange when the books reached the river, was informed that she had seen nothing. "Then," said he, "you have not complied with my request. I cannot die until the books are thrown into the pool." She took the books a second time to the river, and now, very reluctantly, she hurled them into the pool, and watched their descent. They had not reached the water before two hands appeared, stretched upward, out of the pool, and these hands caught the books before they touched the water and, clutching them carefully, both the books and the hands disappeared beneath the waters. She went home immediately, and again appeared before her father, and in answer to his question, she related what had occurred. "Now," said he, "I know you have thrown them in, and I can now die in peace," which he forthwith did.

3. Hereditary conjurors, or charmers, were thought to be beneficial to society. They were charmers rather than conjurors. In this category is to be reckoned:--

(a) The seventh son of a family of sons, born the one after the other.

(b) The seventh daughter in a family of daughters, born in succession, without a brother between. This person could undo spells and curses, but she could not herself curse others.

(c) The descendants of a person, who had eaten eagles' flesh could, for nine generations, charm for the s.h.i.+ngles, or, as it is called in Welsh, _Swyno'r 'Ryri_.

Conjurors were formerly quite common in Wales; when I say common, I mean that there was no difficulty in obtaining their aid when required, and they were within easy reach of those who wished to consult them. Some became more celebrated than others, and consequently their services were in greater requisition; but it may be said, that each district had its wise man.

The office of the conjuror was to counteract the machinations of witches, and to deliver people from their spells. They were looked upon as the natural enemies of witches. Instances have already been given of this antagonism.

But conjurors could act on their own account, and if they did not show the same spiteful nature as witches, they, nevertheless, were credited with possessing great and dangerous power. They dealt freely in charms and spells, and obtained large sums of money for their talismanic papers.

They could, it was believed, by their incantations reveal the future, and oblige light-fingered people to restore the things they had stolen.

Even a fis.h.i.+ng rod made by a conjuror was sure to bring luck to the fisherman. Lovers and haters alike resorted to the wise man to attain through his aid their object.

There were but few, if any, matters beyond their comprehension, and hence the almost unbounded confidence placed in these impostors by the superst.i.tious and credulous.

Strange as it may seem, even in this century there are many who still consult these deceivers, but more of this by and by.

I will now relate a few tales of the doings of these conjurors, and from them the reader can infer how baneful their influence was upon the rustic population of Wales.

_The Magician's Gla.s.s_.

This gla.s.s, into which a person looked when he wished to solve the future, or to ascertain whom he or she was to marry, was used by Welsh, as well as other magicians. The gla.s.s gave back the features of the person sought after, and reflected the future career of the seeker after the hidden future. It was required that the spectator should concentrate all his attention on the gla.s.s, and, on the principle that they who gazed long should not gaze in vain, he obtained the desired glimpse. _Cwrt Cadno_, already referred to, professed to have such a gla.s.s.

But, the magician's gla.s.s is an instrument so often mentioned in connection with necromancy in all parts of the world, that more need not be said of it.

I will now give a few stories ill.u.s.trative of the conjuror's power.

_A Conjuror's Punishment of an Innkeeper for his exorbitant charges_.

A famous conjuror, d.i.c.k Spot, was on his way to Llanrwst, and he turned into a public house at Henllan for refreshments. He called for a gla.s.s of beer and bread and cheese, and was charged tenpence for the same, fourpence for the beer, and sixpence for the bread and cheese. This charge he considered outrageous, but he paid the demand, and before departing he took a sc.r.a.p of paper and wrote on it a spell, and hid it under the table, and then went on his way. That evening, soon after the landlord and landlady had retired for the night, leaving the servant girl to clear up, they were surprised to hear in the kitchen an unaccountable noise; shouting and jumping was the order of the day, or rather night, in that room. The good people heard the girl shout at the top of her voice--

"Six and four are ten, Count it o'er again,"

and then she danced like mad round and round the kitchen. They sternly requested the girl to cease yelling, and to come to bed, but the only answer they received was--

"Six and four are ten, Count it o'er again,"

and with accelerated speed she danced round and round the kitchen.

The thought now struck the landlord that the girl had gone out of her mind, and so he got up, and went to see what was the matter with her, with the intention of trying to get her away from the kitchen. But the moment he placed his foot in the kitchen, he gave a jump, and joined the girl in her mad dance, and with her he shrieked out--

"Six and four are ten, Count it o'er again."

So now the noise was doubled, and the good wife, finding that her husband did not return to her, became very angry, if not jealous. She shouted to them to cease their row, but all to no purpose, for the dancing and the shouting continued. Then she left her bed and went to the kitchen door, and greatly disgusted she was to see her husband and maid dancing together in that shameless manner. She stood at the door a moment or two observing their frantic behaviour, and then she determined forcibly to put a stop to the proceedings, so into the room she bounded, but with a hop and a jump she joined in the dance, and sang out in chorus with the other two--

"Six and four are ten, Count it o'er again."

The uproar now was great indeed, and roused the neighbours from their sleep. They from outside heard the mad dance and the words, and guessed that d.i.c.k Spot had been the cause of all this. One of those present hurried after the conjuror, who, fortunately, was close at hand, and desired him to return to the inn to release the people from his spell.

"Oh," said d.i.c.k, "take the piece of paper that is under the table and burn it, and they will then stop their row." The man returned to the inn, pushed open the door, rushed to the table, and cast the paper into the fire, and then the trio became quiet. But they had nearly exhausted themselves by their severe exertions ere they were released from the power of the spell.

_A Conjuror and Robbers_.

A conjuror, or _Gwr Cyfarwydd_, was travelling over the Denbighs.h.i.+re hills to Carnarvons.h.i.+re; being weary, he entered a house that he saw on his way, and he requested refreshments, which were given him by a young woman. "But," said she, "you must make haste and depart, for my brothers will soon be here, and they are desperate men, and they will kill you."

But no, the stranger was in no hurry to move on, and though repeatedly besought to depart, he would not do so. To the great dread and fear of the young woman, her brothers came in, and, in anger at finding a stranger there, bade him prepare for death. He requested a few minutes'

respite, and took out a book and commenced reading it. When he was thus engaged a horn began growing in the centre of the table, and on this the robbers were obliged to gaze, and they were unable even to move. The stranger went to bed, and found the robbers in the morning still gazing at the horn, as he knew they would be, and he departed leaving them thus engaged, and the tale goes, that they were arrested in that position, being unable to offer any resistance to their captors.

There are several versions of the Horn Tale afloat; instead of being made to grow out of a table, it was made to grow out of a person's head or forehead. There is a tradition that Huw Llwyd was able to do this wonderful thing, and that he actually did it.