transcribed from the archibald constable & co. ltd. edition by david price, ccx @coventry.ac.uk celtic religion in pre-christian times by edward anwyl, m.a. late classical scholar of oriel college, oxford professor of welsh and comparative philology at the university college of wales, aberystwyth acting-chairman of the central welsh board for intermediate education london archibald constable & co ltd james street haymarket edinburgh: t. and a. constable, printers to his majesty foreword it is only as prehistoric archaeology has come to throw more and more light on the early civilisations of celtic lands that it has become possible to interpret celtic religion from a thoroughly modern viewpoint. the author cordially acknowledges his indebtedness to numerous writers on this subject, but his researches into some portions of the field especially have suggested to him the possibility of giving a new presentation to certain facts and groups of facts, which the existing evidence disclosed. it is to be hoped that a new interest in the religion of the celts may thereby be aroused. e. anwyl. aberystwyth, _february_ , . chapter i--introductory: the celts in dealing with the subject of 'celtic religion' the first duty of the writer is to explain the sense in which the term 'celtic' will be used in this work. it will be used in reference to those countries and districts which, in historic times, have been at one time or other mainly of celtic speech. it does not follow that all the races which spoke a form of the celtic tongue, a tongue of the indo-european family, were all of the same stock. indeed, ethnological and archaeological evidence tends to establish clearly that, in gaul and britain, for example, man had lived for ages before the introduction of any variety of aryan or indo-european speech, and this was probably the case throughout the whole of western and southern europe. further, in the light of comparative philology, it has now become abundantly clear that the forms of indo-european speech which we call celtic are most closely related to those of the italic family, of which family latin is the best known representative. from this it follows that we are to look for the centre of dissemination of aryan celtic speech in some district of europe that could have been the natural centre of dissemination also for the italic languages. from this common centre, through conquest and the commercial intercourse which followed it, the tribes which spoke the various forms of celtic and italic speech spread into the districts occupied by them in historic times. the common centre of radiation for celtic and italic speech was probably in the districts of noricum and pannonia, the modern carniola, carinthia, etc., and the neighbouring parts of the danube valley. the conquering aryan-speaking celts and italians formed a military aristocracy, and their success in extending the range of their languages was largely due to their skill in arms, combined, in all probability, with a talent for administration. this military aristocracy was of kindred type to that which carried aryan speech into india and persia, armenia and greece, not to speak of the original speakers of the teutonic and slavonic tongues. in view of the necessity of discovering a centre, whence the indo-european or aryan languages in general could have radiated eastwards, as well as westwards, the tendency to-day is to regard these tongues as having been spoken originally in some district between the carpathians and the steppes, in the form of kindred dialects of a common speech. some branches of the tribes which spoke these dialects penetrated into central europe, doubtless along the danube, and, from the danube valley, extended their conquests together with their various forms of aryan speech into southern and western europe. the proportion of conquerors to conquered was not uniform in all the countries where they held sway, so that the amount of aryan blood in their resultant population varied greatly. in most cases, the families of the original conquerors, by their skill in the art of war and a certain instinct of government, succeeded in making their own tongues the dominant media of communication in the lands where they ruled, with the result that most of the languages of europe to-day are of the aryan or indo-european type. it does not, however, follow necessarily from this that the early religious ideas or the artistic civilisation of countries now aryan in speech, came necessarily from the conquerors rather than the conquered. in the last century it was long held that in countries of aryan speech the essential features of their civilisation, their religious ideas, their social institutions, nay, more, their inhabitants themselves, were of aryan origin. a more critical investigation has, however, enabled us to distinguish clearly between the development of various factors of human life which in their evolution can follow and often have followed more or less independent lines. the physical history of race, for instance, forms a problem by itself and must be studied by anthropological and ethnological methods. language, again, has often spread along lines other than those of race, and its investigation appertains to the sphere of the philologist. material civilisation, too, has not of necessity followed the lines either of racial or of linguistic development, and the search for its ancient trade-routes may be safely left to the archaeologist. similarly the spread of ideas in religion and thought is one which has advanced on lines of its own, and its investigation must be conducted by the methods and along the lines of the comparative study of religions. in the wide sense, then, in which the word 'celtic religion' will be used in this work, it will cover the modes of religious thought prevalent in the countries and districts, which, in course of time, were mainly characterised by their celtic speech. to the sum-total of these religious ideas contributions have been made from many sources. it would be rash to affirm that the various streams of aryan celtic conquest made no contributions to the conceptions of life and of the world which the countries of their conquest came to hold (and the evidence of language points, indeed, to some such contributions), but their quota appears to be small compared with that of their predecessors; nor is this surprising, in view of the immense period during which the lands of their conquest had been previously occupied. nothing is clearer than the marvellous persistence of traditional and immemorial modes of thought, even in the face of conquest and subjugation, and, whatever ideas on religion the aryan conquerors of celtic lands may have brought with them, they whose conquests were often only partial could not eradicate the inveterate beliefs of their predecessors, and the result in the end was doubtless some compromise, or else the victory of the earlier faith. but the aryan conquerors of gaul and italy themselves were not men who had advanced up the danube in one generation. those men of aryan speech who poured into the italian peninsula and into gaul were doubtless in blood not unmixed with the older inhabitants of central europe, and had entered into the body of ideas which formed the religious beliefs of the men of the danube valley. the common modifications of the aryan tongue, by italians and celts alike, as compared with greek, suggests contact with men of different speech. among the names of celtic gods, too, like those of other countries, we find roots that are apparently irreducible to any found in indo-european speech, and we know not what pre-aryan tongues may have contributed them. scholars, to-day, are far more alive than they ever were before to the complexity of the contributory elements that have entered into the tissue of the ancient religions of mankind, and the more the relics of celtic religion are investigated, the more complex do its contributory factors become. in the long ages before history there were unrecorded conquests and migrations innumerable, and ideas do not fail to spread because there is no historian to record them. the more the scanty remnants of celtic religion are examined, the clearer it becomes that many of its characteristic features had been evolved during the vast period of the ages of stone. during these millennia, men had evolved, concomitantly with their material civilisation, a kind of working philosophy of life, traces of which are found in every land where this form of civilisation has prevailed. man's religion can never be dissociated from his social experience, and the painful stages through which man reached the agricultural life, for example, have left their indelible impress on the mind of man in western europe, as they have in every land. we are thus compelled, from the indications which we have of celtic religion, in the names of its deities, its rites, and its survivals in folk-lore and legend, to come to the conclusion, that its fundamental groundwork is a body of ideas, similar to those of other lands, which were the natural correlatives of the phases of experience through which man passed in his emergence into civilised life. to demonstrate and to illustrate these relations will be the aim of the following chapters. chapter ii--the chief phases of celtic civilisation in the chief countries of celtic civilisation, gaul, cisalpine and transalpine, britain and ireland, abundant materials have been found for elucidating the stages of culture through which man passed in prehistoric times. in britain, for example, palaeolithic man has left numerous specimens of his implements, but the forms even of these rude implements suggest that they, too, have been evolved from still more primitive types. some antiquarians have thought to detect such earlier types in the stones that have been named 'eoliths' found in kent, but, though these 'eoliths' may possibly show human use, the question of their history is far from being settled. it is certain, however, that man succeeded in maintaining himself for ages in the company of the mammoth, the cave-bear, and other animals now extinct. whether palaeolithic man survived the ice age in britain has not so far been satisfactorily decided. in gaul, however, there is fair evidence of continuity between the palaeolithic and neolithic periods, and this continuity must obviously have existed somewhere. still in spite of the indications of continuity, the civilisation of primitive man in gaul presents one aspect that is without any analogues in the life of the palaeolithic men of the river drift period, or in that of man of the new stone age. the feature in question is the remarkable artistic skill shown by the cave men of the dordogne district. some of the drawings and carvings of these men reveal a sense of form which would have done credit to men of a far later age. a feature such as this, whatever may have been its object, whether it arose from an effort by means of 'sympathetic magic' to catch animals, as m. salomon reinach suggests, or to the mere artistic impulse, is a standing reminder to us of the scantiness of our data for estimating the lines of man's religious and other development in the vast epochs of prehistoric time. we know that from the life of hunting man passed into the pastoral stage, having learned to tame animals. how he came to do so, and by what motives he was actuated, is still a mystery. it may be, as m. salomon reinach has also suggested, that it was some curious and indefinable sense of kinship with them that led him to do so, or more probably, as the present writer thinks, some sense of a need of the alliance of animals against hostile spirits. in all probability it was no motive which we can now fathom. the mind of early man was like the unfathomable mind of a boy. from the pastoral life again man passed after long ages into the life of agriculture, and the remains of neolithic man in gaul and in britain give us glimpses of his life as a farmer. the ox, the sheep, the pig, the goat, and the dog were his domestic animals; he could grow wheat and flax, and could supplement the produce of his farm by means of hunting and fishing. neolithic man could spin and weave; he could obtain the necessary flint for his implements, which he made by chipping and polishing, and he could also make pottery of a rude variety. in its essentials we have here the beginnings of the agricultural civilisation of man all the world over. in life, neolithic man dwelt sometimes in pit-dwellings and sometimes in hut-circles, covered with a roof of branches supported by a central pole. in death, he was buried with his kin in long mounds of earth called barrows, in chambered cairns and cromlechs or dolmens. the latter usually consist of three standing stones covered by a cap-stone; forming the stony skeleton of a grave that has been exposed to view after the mound of earth that covered it has been washed away. in their graves the dead were buried in a crouching attitude, and fresh burials were made as occasion required. sometimes the cromlech is double, and occasionally there is a hole in one of the stones, the significance of which is unknown, unless it may have been for the ingress and egress of souls. graves of the dolmen or cromlech type are found in all the countries of western europe, north africa, and elsewhere, wherever stone suitable for the purpose abounds, and in this we have a striking illustration of the way in which lines of development in man's material civilisation are sooner or later correlated to his geographical, geological, and other surroundings. the religious ideas of man in neolithic times also came into correlation with the conditions of his development, and the uninterpreted stone circles and pillars of the world are a standing witness to the religious zeal of a mind that was haunted by stone. before proceeding to exemplify this thesis the subsequent trend of celtic civilisation may be briefly sketched. through the pacific intercourse of commerce, bronze weapons and implements began to find their way, about b.c. or earlier, from central and southern europe into gaul, and thence into britain. in britain the bronze age begins at about or b.c., and it is thought by some archaeologists that bronze was worked at this period by the aid of native tin in britain itself. there are indications, however, that the introduction of bronze into britain was not by way of commerce alone. about the beginning of the bronze period are found evidences in this island of a race of different type from that of neolithic man, being characterised by a round skull and a powerful build, and by general indications of a martial bearing. the remains of this race are usually found in round barrows. this race, which certainly used bronze weapons, is generally believed to have been the first wave that reached britain of aryan conquerors of celtic speech from the nearest part of the continent, where it must have arrived some time previously, probably along the rhine valley. as the type of celtic speech that has penetrated farthest to the west is that known as the goidelic or irish, it has not unreasonably been thought that this must have been the type that arrived in britain first. there are indications, too, that it was this type that penetrated furthest into the west of gaul. its most marked characteristic is its preservation of the pronunciation of u as 'oo' and of qu, while the 'brythonic' or welsh variety changed u to a sound pronounced like the french 'u' or the german 'u' and also qu to p. there is a similar line of cleavage in the italic languages, where latin corresponds to goidelic, and oscan and umbrian to brythonic. transalpine gaul was probably invaded by aryan-speaking celts from more than one direction, and the infiltration and invasion of new- comers, when it had once begun, was doubtless continuous through these various channels. there are cogent reasons for thinking that ultimately the dominant type of celtic speech over the greater part of gaul came to be that of the p rather than the qu type, owing to the influx from the east and northeast of an overflow from the rhine valley of tribes speaking that dialect; a dialect which, by force of conquest and culture, tended to spread farther and farther west. into britain, too, as time went on, the p type of celtic was carried, and has survived in welsh and cornish, the remnants of the tongue of ancient britain. we know, too, from the name eporedia (yvrea), that this dialect of celtic must have spread into cisalpine gaul. the latter district may have received its first celtic invaders direct from the danube valley, as m. alexandre bertrand held, but it would be rash to assume that all its invaders came from that direction. in connection, however, with the history of celtic religion it is not the spread of the varying types of celtic dialect that is important, but the changes in the civilisation of gaul and britain, which reacted on religious ideas or which introduced new factors into the religious development of these lands. the predatory expeditions and wars of conquest of military celtic tribes in search for new homes for their superfluous populations brought into prominence the deities of war, as was the case also with the ancient romans, themselves an agricultural and at the same time a predatory race. the prominence of war in celtic tribal life at one stage has left us the names of a large number of deities that were identified with mars and bellona, though all the war-gods were not originally such. in the roman calendar there is abundant evidence that mars was at one time an agricultural god as well as a god of war. the same, as will be shown later, was the probable history of some of the celtic deities, who were identified in roman times with mars and bellona. caesar tells us that mars had at one time been the chief god of the gauls, and that in germany that was still the case. in britain, also, we find that there were several deities identified with mars, notably belatucadrus and cocidius, and this, too, points in the direction of a development of religion under military influence. the gauls appear to have made great strides in military matters and in material civilisation during the iron age. the culture of the early iron age of hallstatt had been developed in gaul on characteristic lines of its own, resulting in the form now known as the la tene or marnian type. this type derives it name from the striking specimens of it that were discovered at la tene on the shore of lake neuchatel, and in the extensive cemeteries of the marne valley, the burials of which cover a period of from - b.c. it was during the third century b.c. that this characteristic culture of gaul reached its zenith, and gave definite shape to the beautiful curved designs known as those of late-celtic art. iron appears to have been introduced into britain about b.c., and the designs of late-celtic art are here represented best of all. excellent specimens of late-celtic culture have been found in yorkshire and elsewhere, and important links with continental developments have been discovered at aylesford, aesica, limavady, and other places. into the development of this typical gaulish culture elements are believed to have entered by way of the important commercial avenue of the rhone valley from massilia (marseilles), from greece (_via_ venetia), and possibly from etruria. prehistoric archaeology affords abundant proofs that, in countries of celtic speech, metal-working in bronze, iron, and gold reached a remarkably high pitch of perfection, and this is a clear indication that celtic countries and districts which were on the line of trade routes, like the rhone valley, had attained to a material civilisation of no mean character before the roman conquest. in britain, too, the districts that were in touch with continental commerce had, as caesar tells us, also developed in the same direction. the religious counterpart of this development in civilisation is the growth in many parts of gaul, as attested by caesar and by many inscriptions and place-names, of the worship of gods identified with mercury and minerva, the deities of civilisation and commerce. it is no accident that one of the districts most conspicuous for this worship was the territory of the allobrogic confederation, where the commerce of the rhone valley found its most remarkable development. from this sketch of celtic civilisation it will readily be seen how here as elsewhere the religious development of the celts stood closely related to the development of their civilisation generally. it must be borne in mind, however, that all parts of the celtic world were not equally affected by the material development in question. part of the complexity of the history of celtic religion arises from the fact that we cannot be always certain of the degree of progress in civilisation which any given district had made, of the ideas which pervaded it, or of the absorbing interests of its life. another difficulty, too, is that the accounts of celtic religion given by ancient authorities do not always harmonise with the indisputable evidence of inscriptions. the probability is that the religious practices of the celtic world were no more homogeneous than its general civilisation, and that the ancient authorities are substantially true in their statements about certain districts, certain periods, or certain sections of society, while the inscriptions, springing as they do from the influence of the gallo-roman civilisation, especially of eastern gaul and military britain, give us most valuable supplementary evidence for districts and environments of a different kind. the inscriptions, especially by the names of deities which they reveal, have afforded most valuable clues to the history of celtic religion, even in stages of civilisation earlier than those to which they themselves belong. in the next chapter the correlation of celtic religious ideas to the stages of celtic civilisation will be further developed. chapter iii--the correlation of celtic religion with the growth of celtic civilisation in dealing with the long vista of prehistoric time, it is very difficult for us, in our effort after perspective, not to shorten unduly in our thoughts the vast epochs of its duration. we tend, too, to forget, that in these unnumbered millennia there was ample time for it to be possible over certain areas of europe to evolve what were practically new races, through the prepotency of particular stocks and the annihilation of others. during these epochs, again, after speech had arisen, there was time enough to recast completely many a language, for before the dawn of history language was no more free from change than it is now, and in these immense epochs whatever ideas as to the world of their surroundings were vaguely felt by prehistoric men and formulated for them by their kinsmen of genius, had abundant time in which to die or to win supremacy. there must have been aeons before the dawn even of conscious animism, and the experiment of trying sympathetic magic was, when first attempted, probably regarded as a master-stroke of genius. the stone age itself was a long era of great if slow progress in civilisation, and the evolution of the practices and ideas which emerge as the concomitants of its agricultural stage, when closely regarded, bear testimony to the mind's capacity for religious progress in the light of experience and intelligent experiment, and at the same time to the errors into which it fell. the stone age has left its sediment in all the folk-lore of the world. to the casual observer many of the ideas embedded in it may seem a mass of error, and so they are when judged unhistorically, but when viewed critically, and at the same time historically, they afford many glimpses of prehistoric genius in a world where life was of necessity a great experiment. the folk-lore of the world reveals for the same stages of civilisation a wonderful uniformity and homogeneity, as dr. j. g. frazer has abundantly shown in his _golden bough_. this uniformity is not, however, due to necessary uniformity of origin, but to a great extent to the fact that it represents the state of equilibrium arrived at between minds at a certain level and their environment, along lines of thought directed by the momentum given by the traditions of millennia, and the survival in history of the men who carefully regarded them. the apparently unreasoned prohibitions often known as 'taboos,' many of which still persist even in modern civilised life, have their roots in ideas and experiences which no speculation of ours can now completely fathom, however much we may guess at their origin. many of these ancient prohibitions have vanished under new conditions, others have often survived from a real or supposed harmony with new experiences, that have arisen in the course of man's history. after passing through a stage when he was too preoccupied with his material cares and wants to consider whether he was haunted or not, early man in the celtic world as elsewhere, after long epochs of vague unrest, came to realise that he was somehow haunted in the daytime as well as at night, and it was this sense of being haunted that impelled his intellect and his imagination to seek some explanation of his feelings. primitive man came to seek a solution not of the universe as a whole (for of this he had no conception), but of the local universe, in which he played a part. in dealing with celtic folk-lore, it is very remarkable how it mirrors the characteristic local colouring and scenery of the districts in which it has originated. in a country like wales, for example, it is the folk-lore of springs, caves, mountains, lakes, islands, and the forms of its imagination, here as elsewhere, reflect unmistakably the land of its origin. where it depicts an 'other world,' that 'other world' is either on an island or it is a land beneath the sea, a lake, or a river, or it is approachable only through some cave or opening in the earth. in the hunting-grounds of the celtic world the primitive hunter knew every cranny of the greater part of his environment with the accuracy born of long familiarity, but there were some peaks which he could not scale, some caves which he could not penetrate, some jungles into which he could not enter, and in these he knew not what monsters might lurk or unknown beings might live. in celtic folk-lore the belief in fabulous monsters has not yet ceased. man was surrounded by dangers visible and invisible, and the time came when some prehistoric man of genius propounded the view that all the objects around him were no less living than himself. this animistic view of the world, once adopted, made great headway from the various centres where it originated, and man derived from it a new sense of kinship with his world, but also new terrors from it. knowing from the experience of dreams that he himself seemed able to wander away from himself, he thought in course of time that other living things were somehow double, and the world around him came to be occupied, not merely with things that were alive, but with other selves of these things, that could remain in them or leave them at will. here, again, this new prehistoric philosophy gave an added interest to life, but it was none the less a source of fresh terrors. the world swarmed with invisible spirits, some friendly, some hostile, and, in view of these beings, life had to be regulated by strict rules of actions and prohibitions. even in the neolithic stage the inhabitants of celtic countries had attained to the religious ideas in question, as is seen not only by their folk-lore and by the names of groups of goddesses such as the matres (or mothers), but by the fact that in historic times they had advanced well beyond this stage to that of named and individualised gods. as in all countries where the gods were individualised, the men of celtic lands, whether aborigines or invaders, had toiled along the steep ascent from the primitive vague sense of being haunted to a belief in gods who, like esus, teutates, grannos, bormanus, litavis, had names of a definite character. among the prohibitions which had established themselves among the races of celtic lands, as elsewhere, was that directed against the shedding of the blood of one's own kin. there are indications, too, that some at any rate of the tribes inhabiting these countries reckoned kinship through the mother, as in fact continued to be the case among the picts of scotland into historic times. it does not follow, as we know from other countries, that the pre-aryan tribes of gaul and britain, or indeed the aryan tribes themselves in their earliest stage, regarded their original ancestors as human. certain names of deities such as tarvos (the bull), moccos (the pig), epona (the goddess of horses), damona (the goddess of cattle), mullo (the ass), as well as the fact that the ancient britons, according to caesar, preserved the hen, the goose, and the hare, but did not kill and eat them, all point to the fact that in these countries as elsewhere certain animals were held in supreme respect and were carefully guarded from harm. judging from the analogy of kindred phenomena in other countries, the practice of respecting certain animals was often associated with the belief that all the members of certain clans were descended from one or other of them, but how far this system was elaborated in the celtic world it is hard to say. this phenomenon, which is widely known as totemism, appears to be suggested by the prominence given to the wild boar on celtic coins and ensigns, and by the place assigned on some inscriptions and bas-reliefs to the figure of a horned snake as well as by the effigies of other animals that have been discovered. it is not easy to explain the beginnings of totemism in gaul or elsewhere, but it should always be borne in mind that early man could not regard it as an axiomatic truth that he was the superior of every other animal. to reach that proud consciousness is a very high step in the development of the human perspective, and it is to the credit of the celts that, when we know them in historic times, they appear to have attained to this height, inasmuch as the human form is given to their deities. it is not always remembered how great a step in religious evolution is implied when the gods are clothed with human attributes. m. salomon reinach, in his account of the vestiges of totemism among the celts, suggests that totemism was merely the hypertrophy of early man's social sense, which extended from man to the animals around him. this may possibly be the case, but it is not improbable that man also thought to discover in certain animals much-needed allies against some of the visible and invisible enemies that beset him. in his conflict with the malign powers around him, he might well have regarded certain animals as being in some respects stronger combatants against those powers than himself; and where they were not physically stronger, some of them, like the snake, had a cunning and a subtlety that seemed far to surpass his own. in course of time certain bodies of men came to regard themselves as being in special alliance with some one animal, and as being descended from that animal as their common ancestor. the existence side by side of various tribes, each with its definite totem, has not yet been fully proved for the gaulish system, and may well have been a developed social arrangement that was not an essential part of such a mode of thought in its primary forms. the place of animal-worship in the celtic religion will be more fully considered in a later chapter. here it is only indicated as a necessary stage in relation to man's civilisation in the hunting and the pastoral stages, which had to be passed through before the historic deities of gaul and britain in roman times could have come into being. certain of the divine names of the historic period, like artio (the bear-goddess), moccus (the pig), epona (the mare), and damona (the sheep), bear the unmistakable impress of having been at one time those of animals. as for the stage of civilisation at which totemism originated, there is much difference of opinion. the stage of mind which it implies would suggest that it reflects a time when man's mind was preoccupied with wild beasts, and when the alliances and friendships, which he would value in life, might be found in that sphere. there is much plausibility in the view put forward by m. salomon reinach, that the domestication of animals itself implies a totemistic habit of thought, and the consequent protection of these animals by means of taboos from harm and death. it may well be that, after all, the usefulness of domestic animals from a material point of view was only a secondary consideration for man, and a happy discovery after unsuccessful totemistic attentions to other animals. we know not how many creatures early man tried to associate with himself but failed. in all stages of man's history the alternation of the seasons must have brought some rudiments of order and system into his thoughts, though for a long time he was too preoccupied to reflect upon the regularly recurring vicissitudes of his life. in the pastoral stage, the sense of order came to be more marked than in that of hunting, and quickened the mind to fresh thought. the earth came to be regarded as the mother from whom all things came, and there are abundant indications that the earth as the mother, the queen, the long-lived one, etc., found her natural place as a goddess among the celts. her names and titles were probably not in all places or in all tribes the same. but it is in the agricultural stage that she entered in celtic lands, as she did in other countries, into her completest religious heritage, and this aspect of celtic religion will be dealt with more fully in connection with the spirits of vegetation. this phase of religion in celtic countries is one which appears to underlie some of its most characteristic forms, and the one which has survived longest in celtic folk-lore. the earth-mother with her progeny of spirits, of springs, rivers, mountains, forests, trees, and corn, appears to have supplied most of the grouped and individualised gods of the celtic pantheon. the dis, of whom caesar speaks as the ancient god of the gauls, was probably regarded as her son, to whom the dead returned in death. whether he is the gaulish god depicted with a hammer, or as a huge dog swallowing the dead, has not yet been established with any degree of certainty. chapter iv--celtic religion and the development of individualised deities like other religions, those of the celtic lands of europe supplemented the earlier animism by a belief in spirits, who belonged to trees, animals, rocks, mountains, springs, rivers, and other natural phenomena, and in folk-lore there still survives abundant evidence that the celt regarded spirits as taking upon themselves a variety of forms, animal and human. it was this idea of spirits in animal form that helped to preserve the memory of the older totemism into historic times. it is thus that we have names of the type of brannogenos (son of the raven), artogenos (son of the bear), and the like, not to speak of simpler names like bran (raven), march (horse), surviving into historic times. bronze images, too, have been found at neuvy-en-sullias, of a horse and a stag (now in the orleans museum), provided with rings, which were, as m. salomon reinach suggests, probably used for the purpose of carrying these images in procession. the wild boar, too, was a favourite emblem of gaul, and there is extant a bronze figure of a celtic diana riding on a boar's back. at bolar, near nuits, there was discovered a bronze mule. in the museum at mayence is a bas-relief of the goddess of horses, epona (from the gaulish _epos_=lat. _equus_, horse), riding on horseback. one of the most important monuments of this kind is a figure of artio, the bear-goddess (from celtic _artos_, a bear), found at muri near berne. in front of her stood a figure of a bear, which was also found with her. the bull of the tarvos trigaranos bas-relief of notre dame was also in all likelihood originally a totem, and similarly the horned serpents of other bas-reliefs, as well as the boar found on gaulish ensigns and coins, especially in belgic territory. there is a representation, too, of a raven on a bas-relief at compiegne. the name 'moccus,' which is identified with mercury, on inscriptions, and which is found inscribed at langres, trobaso, the valley of the ossola and the borgo san dalmazzo, is undoubtedly the philological equivalent of the welsh _moch_ (swine). in britain, too, the boar is frequently found on the coins of the iceni and other tribes. in italy, according to mr. warde fowler, the pig was an appropriate offering to deities of the earth, so that in the widespread use of the pig as a symbol in the celtic world, there may be some ancient echo of a connection between it and the earth-spirit. its diet of acorns, too, may have marked it out, in the early days of life in forest- clearings, as the animal embodiment of the oak-spirit. in the legends of the celtic races, even in historic times, the pig, and especially the boar, finds an honoured place. in addition to the animals aforementioned, the ass, too, was probably at one time venerated in one of the districts of gaul, and it is not improbable that mullo, the name of a god identified with mars and regarded as the patron of muleteers, mentioned on inscriptions (at nantes, craon, and les provencheres near craon), meant originally 'an ass.' the goddess epona, also, whose worship was widely spread, was probably at one time an animal goddess in the form of a mare, and the name of another goddess, damona, either from the root _dam_=ir. _dam_, (ox); or welsh _daf-ad_ (sheep), may similarly be that of an ancient totem sheep or cow. nor was it in the animal world alone that the celts saw indications of the divine. while the chase and the pastoral life concentrated the mind's attention on the life of animals, the growth of agriculture fixed man's thoughts on the life of the earth, and all that grew upon it, while at the same time he was led to think more and more of the mysterious world beneath the earth, from which all things came and to which all things returned. nor could he forget the trees of the forest, especially those which, like the oak, had provided him with their fruit as food in time of need. the name druid, as well as that of the centre of worship of the gauls of asia minor, drunemeton (the oak-grove), the statement of maximus of tyre that the representation of zeus to the celts was a high oak, pliny's account of druidism (_nat. hist_., xvi. ), the numerous inscriptions to silvanus and silvana, the mention of dervones or dervonnae on an inscription at cavalzesio near brescia, and the abundant evidence of survivals in folk- lore as collected by dr. j. g. frazer and others, all point to the fact that tree-worship, and especially that of the oak, had contributed its full share to the development of celtic religion, at any rate in some districts and in some epochs. the development of martial and commercial civilisation in later times tended to restrict its typical and more primitive developments to the more conservative parts of the celtic world. the fact that in caesar's time its main centre in gaul was in the territory of the carnutes, the tribe which has given its name to chartres, suggests that its chief votaries were mainly in that part of the country. this, too, was the district of the god esus (the eponymous god of the essuvii), and in some degree of teutates, the cruelty of whose rites is mentioned by lucan. it had occurred to the present writer, before finding the same view expressed by m. salomon reinach, that the worship of esus in gaul was almost entirely local in character. with regard to the rites of the druids, caesar tells us that it was customary to make huge images of wickerwork, into which human beings, usually criminals, were placed and burnt. the use of wickerwork, and the suggestion that the rite was for purifying the land, indicates a combination of the ideas of tree-worship with those of early agricultural life. when the emperor claudius is said by suetonius to have suppressed druidism, what is meant is, in all probability, that the more inhuman rites were suppressed, leading, as the scholiasts on lucan seem to suggest, to a substitution of animal victims for men. on the side of civil administration and education, the functions of the druids, as the successors of the primitive medicine men and magicians, doubtless varied greatly in different parts of gaul and britain according to the progress that had been made in the differentiation of functions in social life. the more we investigate the state of the celtic world in ancient times, the clearer it becomes, that in civilisation it was very far from being homogeneous, and this heterogeneity of civilisation must have had its influence on religion as well as on other social phenomena. the natural conservatism of agricultural life, too, perpetuated many practices even into comparatively late times, and of these we catch a glimpse in gregory of tours, when he tells us that at autun the goddess berecyntia was worshipped, her image being carried on a wagon for the protection of the fields and the vines. it is not impossible that by berecyntia gregory means the goddess brigindu, whose name occurs on an inscription at volnay in the same district of gaul. the belief in corn-spirits, and other ideas connected with the central thought of the farmer's life, show, by their persistence in celtic as well as other folklore, how deeply they had entered into the inner tissue of the agricultural mind, so as to be linked to its keenest emotions. here the rites of religion, whether persuasive as in prayer, or compulsory as in sympathetic magic, whether associated with communal or propitiatory sacrifice, whether directed to the earth or to the heaven, all had an intensely practical and terribly real character, due to man's constant preoccupation with the growth and storage of food for man and beast. in the hunting, the pastoral, and above all in the agricultural life, religion was not a matter merely of imagination or sentiment, but one most intimately associated with the daily practice of life, and this practical interest included in its purview rivers, springs, forests, mountains, and all the setting of man's existence. and what is true of agriculture is true also, in a greater or less degree, of the life of the celtic metal-worker or the celtic sailor. even in late welsh legend amaethon (old celtic _ambactonos_), the patron god of farming (welsh _amaeth_), and gofannon, the patron god of the metal-worker (welsh _gof_, irish _gobha_), were not quite forgotten, and the prominence of the worship of the counterparts of mercury and minerva in gaul in historic times was due to the sense of respect and gratitude, which each trade and each locality felt for the deity who had rid the land of monsters, and who had brought man into the comparative calm of civilised life. chapter v--the humanised gods of celtic religion one of the most striking facts connected with the celtic religion is the large number of names of deities which it includes. these names are known to us almost entirely from inscriptions, for the most part votive tablets, in acknowledgment of some benefit, usually that of health, conferred by the god on man. in britain these votive tablets are chiefly found in the neighbourhood of the roman walls and camps, but we cannot be always certain that the deities mentioned are indigenous. in gaul, however, we are on surer ground in associating certain deities with certain districts, inasmuch as the evidence of place-names is often a guide. these inscriptions are very unevenly distributed over gaulish territory, the western and the north-western districts being very sparsely represented. in the present brief sketch it is impossible to enter into a full discussion of the relations of the names found on inscriptions to particular localities, and the light thus thrown on celtic religion; but it may be here stated that investigation tends to confirm the local character of most of the deities which the inscriptions name. out of these deities, some, it is true, in the process of evolution, gained a wider field of worshippers, while others, like lugus, may even have been at one time more widely worshipped than they came to be in later times. occasionally a name like lugus (irish _lug_), segomo (irish, in the genitive, _segamonas_), camulos, whence camulodunum (colchester), belenos (welsh _belyn_), maponos (welsh _mabon_), litavis (welsh _llydaw_), by its existence in britain as well as in gaul, suggests that it was either one of the ancient deities of the aryan celts, or one whose worship came to extend over a larger area than its fellows. apart from a few exceptional considerations of this kind, however, the local character of the deities is most marked. a very considerable number are the deities of springs and rivers. in noricum, for example, we have adsalluta, a goddess associated with savus (the river save). in britain 'the goddess' deva (the dee), and belisama (either the ribble or the mersey), a name meaning 'the most warlike goddess,' are of this type. we have again axona the goddess of the river aisne, sequana, the goddess of the seine, ritona of the river rieu, numerous nymphs and many other deities of fountains. doubtless many other names of local deities are of this kind. aerial phenomena appear to have left very few clear traces on the names of celtic deities. vintios, a god identified with mars, was probably a god of the wind, taranucus, a god of thunder, leucetios, a god of lightning, sulis (of bath) a sun-goddess, but beyond these there are few, if any, reflections of the phenomena of the heavens. of the gods named on inscriptions nearly all are identified with mercury, mars, or apollo. the gods who came to be regarded as culture-deities appear from their names to be of various origins: some are humanised totems, others are in origin deities of vegetation or local natural phenomena. as already indicated, it is clear that the growth of commercial and civilised life in certain districts had brought into prominence deities identified with mercury and minerva as the patrons of civilisation. military men, especially in britain, appear to have favoured deities like belatucadros (the brilliant in war), identified with mars. about fourteen inscriptions mentioning him have been found in the north of england and the south of scotland. the goddess brigantia (the patron- deity of the brigantes), too, is mentioned on four inscriptions: cocidius, identified with mars, is mentioned on thirteen: while another popular god appears to have been silvanus. among the most noticeable names of the celtic gods identified with mercury are adsmerius or atesmerius, dumiatis (the god of the puy de dome), iovantucarus (the lover of youth), teutates (the god of the people), caletos (the hard), and moccus (the boar). several deities are identified with mars, and of these some of the most noticeable names are albiorix (world-king), caturix (battle-king), dunatis (the god of the fort), belatucadrus (the brilliant in war), leucetius (the god of lightning), mullo (the mule), ollovidius (the all-knowing) vintius (the wind-god), and vitucadrus (the brilliant in energy). the large number of names identified with mars reflects the prominent place at one time given to war in the ideas that affected the growth of the religion of the celtic tribes. of the gods identified with hercules, the most interesting name is ogmios (the god of the furrow) given by lucian, but not found on any inscription. the following gods too, among others, are identified with jupiter: aramo (the gentle), ambisagrus (the persistent), bussumarus (the large-lipped), taranucus (the thunderer), uxellimus (the highest). it would seem from this that in historic times at any rate jupiter did not play a large part in celtic religious ideas. there remains another striking feature of celtic religion which has not yet been mentioned, namely the identification of several deities with apollo. these deities are essentially the presiding deities of certain healing-springs and health-resorts, and the growth of their worship into popularity is a further striking index to the development of religion side by side with certain aspects of civilisation. one of the names of a celtic apollo is borvo (whence bourbon), the deity of certain hot springs. this name is indo-european, and was given to the local fountain- god by the celtic-speaking invaders of gaul: it simply means 'the boiler.' other forms of the name are also found, as bormo and bormanus. at aquae granni (aix-la-chapelle) and elsewhere the name identified with apollo is grannos. we find also mogons, and mogounus, the patron deity of moguntiacum (mainz), and, once or twice, maponos (the great youth). the essential feature of the apollo worship was its association in gallo- roman civilisation with the idea of healing, an idea which, through the revival of the worship of aesculapius, affected religious views very strongly in other quarters of the empire. it was in this conception of the gods as the guides of civilisation and the restorers of health, that celtic religion, in some districts at any rate, shows itself emerging into a measure of light after a long and toilsome progress from the darkness of prehistoric ideas. what caesar says of the practice of the gauls of beginning the year with the night rather than with the day, and their ancient belief that they were sprung from dis, the god of the lower world, is thus typified in their religious history. in dealing with the deities of the celtic world we must not, however, forget the goddesses, though their history presents several problems of great difficulty. of these goddesses some are known to us by groups--proximae (the kinswomen), dervonnae (the oak-spirits), niskai (the water-sprites), mairae, matronae, matres or matrae (the mothers), quadriviae (the goddesses of cross roads). the matres, matrae, and matronae are often qualified by some local name. deities of this type appear to have been popular in britain, in the neighbourhood of cologne and in provence. in some cases it is uncertain whether some of these grouped goddesses are celtic or teutonic. it is an interesting parallel to the existence of these grouped goddesses, when we find that in some parts of wales 'y mamau' (the mothers) is the name for the fairies. these grouped goddesses take us back to one of the most interesting stages in the early celtic religion, when the earth-spirits or the corn-spirits had not yet been completely individualised. of the individualised goddesses many are strictly local, being the names of springs or rivers. others, again, appear to have emerged into greater individual prominence, and of these we find several associated on inscriptions, sometimes with a god of celtic name, but sometimes with his latin counterpart. it is by no means certain that the names so linked together were thus associated in early times, and the fashion may have been a later one, which, like other fashions, spread after it had once begun. the relationship in some cases may have been regarded as that of mother and son, in others that of brother and sister, in others that of husband and wife, the data are not adequate for the final decision of the question. of these associated pairs the following may be noted, mercurius and rosmerta, mercurius and dirona, grannus (apollo) and sirona, sucellus and nantosvelta, borvo and damona, cicolluis (mars) and litavis, bormanus and bormana, savus and adsalluta, mars and nemetona. one of these names, sirona, probably meant the long-lived one, and was applied to the earth-mother. in welsh one or two names have survived which, by their structure, appear to have been ancient names of goddesses; these are rhiannon (rigantona, the great queen), and modron (matrona, the great mother). the other british deities will be more fully treated by another writer in this series in a work on the ancient mythology of the british isles. it is enough to say that research tends more and more to confirm the view that the key to the history of the celtic deities is the realisation of the local character of the vast majority of them. chapter vi--the celtic priesthood no name in connection with celtic religion is more familiar to the average reader than that of the druids, yet there is no section of the history of celtic religion that has given rise to greater discussion than that relating to this order. even the association of the name with the indo-european root _dru_-, which we find in the greek word _drus_, an oak, has been questioned by such a competent celtic scholar as m. d'arbois de jubainville, but on this point it cannot be said that his criticism is conclusive. the writers of the ancient world who refer to the druids, do not always make it sufficiently clear in what districts the rites, ceremonies, and functions which they were describing prevailed. nor was it so much the priestly character of the druids that produced the deepest impression on the ancients. to some philosophical and theological writers of antiquity their doctrines and their apparent affinities with pythagoreanism were of much greater interest than their ceremonial or other functions. one thing at any rate is clear, that the druids and their doctrines, or supposed doctrines, had made a deep impression on the writers of the ancient world. there is a reference to them in a fragment of aristotle (which may not, however, be genuine) that is of interest as assigning them a place in express terms both among the celts and the galatae. the prominent feature of their teaching which had attracted the attention of other writers, such as the historian diodorus siculus and the christian theologian clement of alexandria, was the resemblance of their doctrine concerning the immortality and transmigration of the soul to the views of pythagoras. ancient writers, however, did not always remember that a religious or philosophical doctrine must not be treated as a thing apart, but must be interpreted in its whole context in relation to its development in history and in the social life of the community in which it has flourished. to some of the ancients the superficial resemblance between the druidic doctrine of the soul's future and the teaching attributed to pythagoras was the essential point, and this was enough to give the druids a reputation for philosophy, so that a writer like clement of alexandria goes so far as to regard the druids of the 'galatae' along with the prophets of the egyptians, the 'chaldaeans' of the assyrians, the 'philosophers of the celts,' and the magi of the persians as the pioneers of philosophy among the barbarians before it spread to the greeks. the reason for the distinction drawn in this passage between the 'druids of the galatae' and 'the philosophers of the celts' is not clear. diodorus siculus calls attention to the druidic doctrine that the souls of men were immortal, and that after the lapse of an appointed number of years they came to life again, the soul then entering into another body. he says that there were certain 'philosophers and theologians' that were called druids who were held in exceptional honour. in addition to these, the celts, he says, had also seers, who foretold the future from the flight of birds and by means of the offering of sacrifices. according to him it was these priestly seers who had the masses in subjection to them. in great affairs they had, he says, the practice of divination by the slaughter of a human victim, and the observation of the attitude in which he fell, the contortions of the limbs, the spurting of the blood, and the like. this, he states, was an ancient and established practice. moreover, it was the custom, according to diodorus, to make no sacrifice without the presence of a philosopher (apparently a druid in addition to the sacrificing seer), the theory being that those who were authorities on the divine nature were to the gods intelligible mediators for the offering of gifts and the presentation of petitions. these philosophers were in great request, together with their poets, in war as well as in peace, and were consulted not merely by the men of their own side, but also by those of the enemy. even when two armies were on the point of joining battle, these philosophers had been able, diodorus says, to step into the space between them and to stop them from fighting, exactly as if they had charmed wild beasts. the moral which diodorus draws from this is, that even among the wildest of barbarians the spirited principle of the soul yields to wisdom, and that ares (the god of war) even there respects the muses. it is clear from this account that diodorus had in mind the three classes of non-military professional men among the celts, to whom other ancient writers also refer, namely, the bards, the seers, and the druids. his narrative is apparently an expansion, in the light of his reading and philosophical meditation, of information supplied by previous writers, notably posidonius. the latter, too, appears to have been julius caesar's chief authority, in addition to his own observation, but caesar does not appear expressly to indicate the triple division here in question. the account which he gives is important, and would be even more valuable than it is had he told us how far what he describes was written from his own personal information, and the degree of variation (if any) of religious practice in different districts. however, caesar's statements deserve the closest consideration. after calling attention to the division of the gaulish aristocracy into two main sections, the druids and the knights, he proceeds to speak of the druids. these were occupied, he says, with religious matters, they attended to public and private sacrifices, and interpreted omens. moreover, they were the teachers of the country. to them the young men congregated for knowledge, and the pupils held their teachers in great respect. they, too, were the judges in public and private disputes: it was they who awarded damages and penalties. any contumacy in reference to their judgments was punished by exclusion from the sacrifices. this sentence of excommunication was the severest punishment among the gauls. the men so punished were treated as outlaws, and cut off from all human society, with its rights and privileges. over these druids there was one head, who wielded the highest influence among them. on his death the nearest of the others in dignity succeeded him, or, if several were equal, the election of a successor was made by the vote of the druids. sometimes the primacy was not decided without the arbitrament of arms. the druids met at a fixed time of the year in a consecrated spot in the territory of the carnutes, the district which was regarded as being in the centre of the whole of gaul. this assembly of druids formed a court for the decision of cases brought to them from everywhere around. it was thought, caesar says, that the doctrine of the druids was discovered in britain and thence carried over into gaul. at that time, too, those who wanted to make a profounder study of it resorted thither for their training. the druids had immunity from military service and from the payment of tribute. these privileges drew many into training for the profession, some of their own accord, others at the instance of parents and relatives. while in training they were said to learn by heart a large number of verses, and some went so far as to spend twenty years in their course of preparation. the druids held it wrong to put their religious teaching in writing, though, in almost everything else, whether public or private affairs, they made use of greek letters. caesar thought that they discouraged writing on the one hand, lest their teaching should become public property; on the other, lest reliance upon writing should lessen the cultivation of the memory. to this risk caesar could testify from his own knowledge. their cardinal doctrine was that souls did not perish, but that after death they passed from one person to another; and this they regarded as a supreme incentive to valour, since, with the prospect of immortality, the fear of death counted for nothing. they carried on, moreover, many discussions about the stars and their motion, the greatness of the universe and the lands, the nature of things, the strength and power of the immortal gods, and communicated their knowledge to their pupils. in another passage caesar says that the gauls as a people were extremely devoted to religious ideas and practices. men who were seriously ill, who were engaged in war, or who stood in any peril, offered, or promised to offer, human sacrifices, and made use of the druids as their agents for such sacrifices. their theory was, that the immortal gods could not be appeased unless a human life were given for a human life. in addition to these private sacrifices, they had also similar human sacrifices of a public character. caesar further contrasts the germans with the gauls, saying that the former had no druids to preside over matters of religion, and that they paid no attention to sacrifices. in his work on divination, cicero, too, refers to the profession which the druids made of natural science, and of the power of foretelling the future, and instances the case of the aeduan diviciacus, his brother's guest and friend. nothing is here said by cicero of the three classes implied in diodorus, but timagenes (quoted in ammianus) refers to the three classes under the names 'bardi,' 'euhages' (a mistake for 'vates'), and 'drasidae' (a mistake for 'druidae'). the study of nature and of the heavens is here attributed to the second class of seers (vates). the highest class, that of the druids, were, he says, in accordance with the rule of pythagoras, closely linked together in confraternities, and by acquiring a certain loftiness of mind from their investigations into things that were hidden and exalted, they despised human affairs and declared the soul immortal. we see here the view expressed that socially as well as intellectually the druids lived according to the pythagorean philosophy. origen also refers to the view that was prevalent in his time, that zamolxis, the servant of pythagoras, had taught the druids the philosophy of pythagoras. he further states that the druids practised sorcery. the triple division of the non-military aristocracy is perhaps best given by strabo, the greek geographer, who here follows posidonius. the three classes are the bards, the seers (ouateis=vates), and druids. the bards were hymn-writers and poets, the seers sacrificers and men of science, while the druids, in addition to natural science, practised also moral philosophy. they were regarded as the justest of men, and on this account were intrusted with the settlement of private and public disputes. they had been the means of preventing armies from fighting when on the very verge of battle, and were especially intrusted with the judgment of cases involving human life. according to strabo, they and their fellow-countrymen held that souls and the universe were immortal, but that fire and water would sometime prevail. sacrifices were never made, strabo says, without the intervention of the druids. pomponius mela says that in his time (c. a.d.), though the ancient savagery was no more, and the gauls abstained from human sacrifices, some traces of their former practices still remained, notably in their habit of cutting a portion of the flesh of those condemned to death after bringing them to the altars. the gauls, he says, in spite of their traces of barbarism, had an eloquence of their own, and had the druids as their teachers in philosophy. these professed to know the size and form of the earth and of the universe, the motions of the sky and stars, and the will of the gods. he refers, as caesar does, to their work in education, and says that it was carried on in caves or in secluded groves. mela speaks of their doctrine of immortality, but says nothing as to the entry of souls into other bodies. as a proof of this belief he speaks of the practice of burning and burying with the dead things appropriate to the needs of the living. lucan, the latin poet, in his _pharsalia_, refers to the seclusion of the druids' groves and to their doctrine of immortality. the scholiasts' notes on this passage are after the manner of their kind, and add very little to our knowledge. in pliny's _natural history_ (xvi, ), however, we seem to be face to face with another, though perhaps a distorted, tradition. pliny was an indefatigable compiler, and appears partly by reading, partly by personal observation, to have noticed phases of celtic religious practices which other writers had overlooked. in the first place he calls attention to the veneration in which the gauls held the mistletoe and the tree on which it grew, provided that that tree was the oak. hence their predilection for oak groves and their requirement of oak leaves for all religious rites. pliny here remarks on the consonance of this practice with the etymology of the name druid as interpreted even through greek (the greek for an oak being _drus_). were not this respect for the oak and for the mistletoe paralleled by numerous examples of tree and plant-worship given by dr. frazer and others, it might well have been suspected that pliny was here quoting some writer who had tried to argue from the etymology of the name druid. another suspicious circumstance in pliny's account is his reference to the serpent's egg composed of snakes rolled together into a ball. he states that he himself had seen such an 'egg,' of about the size of an apple. pliny, too, states that tiberius caesar abolished by a decree of the senate the druids and the kind of seers and physicians the gauls then had. this statement, when read in its context, probably refers to the prohibition of human sacrifices. the historian suetonius, in his account of the emperor claudius, also states that augustus had prohibited 'the religion of the druids' (which, he says, 'was one of fearful savagery') to roman citizens, but that claudius had entirely abolished it. what is here also meant, in view of the description given of druidism, is doubtless the abolishing of its human sacrifices. in later latin writers there are several references to druidesses, but these were probably only sorceresses. in irish the name _drui_ (genitive _druad_) meant a magician, and the word _derwydd_ in mediaeval welsh was especially used in reference to the vaticinations which were then popular in wales. when we analyse the testimony of ancient writers concerning the druids, we see in the first place that to different minds the name connoted different things. to caesar it is the general name for the non-military professional class, whether priests, seers, teachers, lawyers, or judges. to others the druids are pre-eminently the philosophers and teachers of the gauls, and are distinguished from the seers designated _vates_. to others again, such as pliny, they were the priests of the oak-ritual, whence their name was derived. in view of the variety of grades of civilisation then co-existing in gaul and britain, it is not improbable that the development of the non-military professional class varied very considerably in different districts, and that all the aspects of druidism which the ancient writers specify found their appropriate places in the social system of the celts. in gaul and britain, as elsewhere, the office of the primitive tribal medicine-man was capable of indefinite development, and all the forms of its evolution could not have proceeded _pari passu_ where the sociological conditions found such scope for variation. it may well be that the oak and mistletoe ceremonies, for example, lingered in remote agricultural districts long after they had ceased to interest men along the main routes of celtic civilisation. the bucolic mind does not readily abandon the practices of millennia. in addition to the term druid, we find in aulus hirtius' continuation of caesar's _gallic war_ (bk. viii., c. xxxviii., ), as well as on two inscriptions, one at le-puy-en-velay (dep. haute-loire), and the other at macon (dep. saone-et-loire), another priestly title, 'gutuater.' at macon the office is that of a 'gutuater martis,' but of its special features nothing is known. chapter vii--the celtic other-world in the preceding chapter we have seen that the belief was widely prevalent among greek and roman writers that the druids taught the immortality of the soul. some of these writers, too, point out the undoubted fact, attested by archaeology, that objects which would be serviceable to the living were buried with the dead, and this was regarded as a confirmation of the view that the immortality of souls was to the celts an object of belief. the study of archaeology on the one hand, and of comparative religion on the other, certainly leads to the conclusion that in the bronze and the early iron age, and in all probability in the stone age, the idea prevailed that death was not the end of man. the holed cromlechs of the later stone age were probably designed for the egress and ingress of souls. the food and the weapons that were buried with the dead were thought to be objects of genuine need. roman religion, too, in some of its rites provided means for the periodical expulsion of hungry and hostile spirits of the dead, and for their pacification by the offer of food. a tomb and its adjuncts were meant not merely for the honour of the dead, but also for the protection of the living. a clear line of distinction was drawn between satisfied and beneficent ghosts like the manes, and the unsatisfied and hostile ghosts like the lemures and larvae. to the celtic mind, when its analytical powers had come to birth, and man was sufficiently self-conscious to reflect upon himself, the problem of his own nature pressed for some solution. in these solutions the breath, the blood, the name, the head, and even the hair generally played a part, but these would not in themselves explain the mysterious phenomena of sleep, of dreams, of epilepsy, of madness, of disease, of man's shadow and his reflection, and of man's death. by long familiarity with the scientific or quasi-scientific explanations of these things, we find it difficult to realise fully their constant fascination for early man, who had his thinkers and philosophies like ourselves. one very widely accepted solution of early man in the celtic world was, that within him there was another self which could live a life of its own apart from the body, and which survived even death, burial, and burning. sometimes this inner self was associated with the breath, whence, for example, the latin 'anima' and the welsh 'enaid,' both meaning the soul, from the root _an_-, to breathe. at other times the term employed for the second self had reference to man's shadow: the greek 'skia,' the latin 'umbra,' the welsh 'ysgawd,' the english 'shade.' there are abundant evidences, too, that the life-principle was frequently regarded as being especially associated with the blood. another tendency, of which principal rhys has given numerous examples in his welsh folk-lore, was to regard the soul as capable of taking a visible form, not necessarily human, preferably that of some winged creature. in ancient writers there is no information as to the views prevalent among the celts regarding the forms or the abodes of the spirits of the dead, beyond the statement that the druids taught the doctrine of their re-birth. we are thus compelled to look to the evidence afforded by myth, legend, and folk-lore. these give fair indications as to the types of earlier popular belief in these matters, but it would be a mistake to assume that the ideas embodied in them had remained entirely unchanged from remote times. the mind of man at certain levels is quite capable of evolving new myths and fresh folk-lore along the lines of its own psychology and its own logic. the forms which the soul could take doubtless varied greatly in men's opinions in different districts and in different mental perspectives, but folk-lore tends to confirm the view that early man, in the celtic world as elsewhere, tended to emphasise his conception of the subtlety and mobility of the soul as contrasted with the body. sooner or later the primitive philosopher was bound to consider whither the soul went in dreams or in death. he may not at first have thought of any other sphere than that of his own normal life, but other questions, such as the home of the spirits of vegetation in or under the earth, would suggest, even if this thought had not occurred to him before, that the spirits of men, too, had entrance to the world below. whether this world was further pictured in imagination depended largely on the poetic genius of any given people. the folk-lore of the celtic races bears abundant testimony to their belief that beneath this world there was another. the 'annwfn' of the welsh was distinctly conceived in the folk-lore embodied in mediaeval poetry as being 'is elfydd' (beneath the world). in mediaeval welsh legend, again, this lower world is regarded as divided into kingdoms, like this world, and its kings, like arawn and hafgan in the mabinogi of pwyll, are represented as being sometimes engaged in conflict. from this lower world had come to man some of the blessings of civilisation, and among them the much prized gift of swine. the lower world could be even plundered by enterprising heroes. marriages like that of pwyll and rhiannon were possible between the dwellers of the one world and the other. the other-world of the celts does not seem, however, to have been always pictured as beneath the earth. irish and welsh legend combine in viewing it at times as situated on distant islands, and welsh folk-lore contains several suggestions of another world situated beneath the waters of a lake, a river, or a sea. in one or two passages also of welsh mediaeval poetry the shades are represented as wandering in the woods of caledonia (coed celyddon). this was no doubt a traditional idea in those families that migrated to wales in post- roman times from strathclyde. to those who puzzled over the fate of the souls of the dead the idea of their re-birth was a very natural solution, and mr. alfred nutt, in his _voyage of bran_, has called attention to the occurrence of this idea in irish legend. it does not follow, however, that the souls of all men would enjoy the privilege of this re-birth. as mr. alfred nutt points out, irish legend seems to regard this re-birth only as the privilege of the truly great. it is of interest to note the curious persistence of similar ideas as to death and the other-world in literature written even in christian times and by monastic scribes. in welsh, in addition to annwfn, a term which seems to mean the 'not-world,' we have other names for the world below, such as 'anghar,' the loveless place; 'difant,' the unrimmed place (whence the modern welsh word 'difancoll,' lost for ever); 'affwys,' the abyss; 'affan,' the land invisible. the upper-world is sometimes called 'elfydd,' sometimes 'adfant,' the latter term meaning the place whose rim is turned back. apparently it implies a picture of the earth as a disc, whose rim or lip is curved back so as to prevent men from falling over into the 'difant,' or the rimless place. in modern celtic folk-lore the various local other- worlds are the abodes of fairies, and in these traditions there may possibly be, as principal rhys has suggested, some intermixture of reminiscences of the earlier inhabitants of the various districts. modern folk-lore, like mediaeval legend, has its stories of the inter-marriages of natives of this world with those of the other-world, often located underneath a lake. the curious reader will find several examples of such stories in principal rhys's collection of welsh and manx folk-lore. in irish legend one of the most classical of these stories is that of the betrothal of etain, a story which has several points of contact with the narrative of the meeting of pwyll and rhiannon in the welsh mabinogi. the name of arthur's wife, gwenhwyfar, which means 'the white spectre,' also suggests that originally she too played a part in a story of the same kind. in all these and similar narratives, it is important to note the way in which the celtic conceptions of the other-world, in britain and in ireland, have been coloured by the geographical aspects of these two countries, by their seas, their islands, their caves, their mounds, their lakes, and their mountains. the local other-worlds of these lands bear, as we might have expected, the clear impress of their origin. on the whole the conceptions of the other-world which we meet in celtic legend are joyous; it is a land of youth and beauty. cuchulainn, the irish hero, for example, is brought in a boat to an exceedingly fair island round which there is a silver wall and a bronze palisade. in one welsh legend the cauldron of the head of annwfn has around it a rim of pearls. one irish story has a naive description of the glories of the celtic elysium in the words--'admirable was that land: there are three trees there always bearing fruit, one pig always alive, and another ready cooked.' occasionally, however, we find a different picture. in the welsh poem called 'y gododin' the poet aneirin is represented as expressing his gratitude at being rescued by the son of llywarch hen from 'the cruel prison of the earth, from the abode of death, from the loveless land.' the salient features, therefore, of the celtic conceptions of the other-world are their consonance with the suggestions made by celtic scenery to the celtic imagination, the vagueness and variability of these conceptions in different minds and in different moods, the absence of any ethical considerations beyond the incentive given to bravery by the thought of immortality, and the remarkable development of a sense of possible inter-relations between the two worlds, whether pacific or hostile. such conceptions, as we see from celtic legend, proved an admirable stimulus and provided excellent material for the development of celtic narrative, and the weird and romantic effect was further heightened by the general belief in the possibilities of magic and metamorphosis. moreover, the association with innumerable place-names of legends of this type gave the beautiful scenery of celtic lands an added charm, which has attached their inhabitants to them with a subtle and unconquerable attachment scarcely intelligible to the more prosaic inhabitants of prosaic lands. to the poetic celt the love of country tends to become almost a religion. the celtic mind cannot remain indifferent to lands and seas whose very beauty compels the eyes of man to gaze upon them to their very horizon, and the lines of observation thus drawn to the horizon are for the celt continual temptations to the thought of an infinity beyond. the preoccupation of the celtic mind with the deities of his scenery, his springs, his rivers, his seas, his forests, his mountains, his lakes, was in thorough keeping with the tenour of his mind, when tuned to its natural surroundings. in dealing with celtic religion, mythology, and legend, it is not so much the varying local and temporal forms that demand our attention, as the all-pervading and animating spirit, which shows its essential character even through the scanty remains of the ancient celtic world. celtic religion bears the impress of nature on earth far more than nature in the heavens. the sense of the heaven above has perhaps survived in some of the general indo-european celtic terms for the divine principle, and there are some traces of a religious interest in the sun and the god of thunder and lightning, but every student of celtic religion must feel that the main and characteristic elements are associated with the earth in all the variety of its local phenomena. the great earth-mother and her varied offspring ever come to view in celtic religion under many names, and the features even of the other-world could not be dissociated for the celt from those of his mother-earth. the festivals of his year, too, were associated with the decay and the renewal of her annual life. the bonfires of november, may, midsummer, and august were doubtless meant to be associated with the vicissitudes of her life and the spirits that were her children. for the celt the year began in november, so that its second half-year commenced with the first of may. the idea to which caesar refers, that the gauls believed themselves descended from dis, the god of the lower world, and began the year with the night, counting their time not by days but by nights, points in the same direction, namely that the darkness of the earth had a greater hold on the mind than the brightness of the sky. the welsh terms for a week and a fortnight, _wythnos_ (eight nights) and _pythefnos_ (fifteen nights) respectively confirm caesar's statement. to us now it may seem more natural to associate religion with the contemplation of the heavens, but for the celtic lands at any rate the main trend of the evidence is to show that the religious mind was mainly drawn to a contemplation of the earth and her varied life, and that the celt looked for his other-world either beneath the earth, with her rivers, lakes, and seas, or in the islands on the distant horizon, where earth and sky met. this predominance of the earth in religion was in thorough keeping with the intensity of religion as a factor in his daily pursuits. it was this intensity that gave the druids at some time or other in the history of the western celts the power which caesar and others assign to them. the whole people of the gauls, even with their military aristocracy, were extremely devoted to religious ideas, though these led to the inhumanity of human sacrifices. at one time their sense of the reality of the other-world was so great, that they believed that loans contracted in this world would be repaid there, and practical belief could not go much further than that. all these considerations tend to show how important it is, in the comparative study of religions, to investigate each religion in its whole sociological and geographical environment as well as in the etymological meaning of its terms. in conclusion, the writer hopes that this brief sketch, which is based on an independent study of the main evidence for the religious ideas and practices of the celtic peoples, will help to interest students of religion in the dominant modes of thought which from time immemorial held sway in these lands of the west of europe, and which in folk-lore and custom occasionally show themselves even in the midst of our highly developed and complex civilisation of to-day. the thought of early man on the problems of his being--for after all his superstitions reveal thought--deserve respect, for in his efforts to think he was trying to grope towards the light. short bibliography rhys, _hibbert lectures on celtic heathendom_. rhys, _celtic folk-lore_, _welsh and manx_. reinach, s., _cultes_, _mythes et religion_. nutt, alfred, _the voyage of bran_. squire, _mythology of the british islands_. gaidoz, _esqiusse de mythologie gauloise_. bertrand, _la religion des gaulois_, _les druides et le druidisme_. frazer, _the golden bough_. joyce, _the social history of ireland_. d'arbois de jubainville, _les druides et les dieux celtiques a forme d'animaux_. windisch, _irische texte mit worterbuch_. cynddelw, _cymru fu_. foulkes, _enwogion cymru_. campbell, _popular tales of the west highlands_. proofreading team the religion of the ancient celts by j.a. macculloch hon. d.d.(st. andrews); hon. canon of cumbrae cathedral author of "comparative theology" "religion: its origin and forms" "the misty isle of skye" "the childhood of fiction: a study of folk-tales and primitive thought" edinburgh: t. & t. clark, george street printed by morrison & gibb limited, for t. & t. clark, edinburgh. london: simpkin, marshall, hamilton, kent, and co. limited. new york: charles scribner's sons. to andrew lang preface the scientific study of ancient celtic religion is a thing of recent growth. as a result of the paucity of materials for such a study, earlier writers indulged in the wildest speculative flights and connected the religion with the distant east, or saw in it the remains of a monotheistic faith or a series of esoteric doctrines veiled under polytheistic cults. with the works of mm. gaidoz, bertrand, and d'arbois de jubainville in france, as well as by the publication of irish texts by such scholars as drs. windisch and stokes, a new era may be said to have dawned, and a flood of light was poured upon the scanty remains of celtic religion. in this country the place of honour among students of that religion belongs to sir john rh[^y]s, whose hibbert lectures _on the origin and growth of religion as illustrated by celtic heathendom_ ( ) was an epoch-making work. every student of the subject since that time feels the immense debt which he owes to the indefatigable researches and the brilliant suggestions of sir john rh[^y]s, and i would be ungrateful if i did not record my indebtedness to him. in his hibbert lectures, and in his later masterly work on _the arthurian legend_, however, he took the standpoint of the "mythological" school, and tended to see in the old stories myths of the sun and dawn and the darkness, and in the divinities sun-gods and dawn-goddesses and a host of dark personages of supernatural character. the present writer, studying the subject rather from an anthropological point of view and in the light of modern folk survivals, has found himself in disagreement with sir john rh[^y]s on more than one occasion. but he is convinced that sir john would be the last person to resent this, and that, in spite of his mythological interpretations, his hibbert lectures must remain as a source of inspiration to all celtic students. more recently the studies of m. salomon reinach and of m. dottin, and the valuable little book on _celtic religion_, by professor anwyl, have broken fresh ground.[ ] in this book i have made use of all the available sources, and have endeavoured to study the subject from the comparative point of view and in the light of the anthropological method. i have also interpreted the earlier cults by means of recent folk-survivals over the celtic area wherever it has seemed legitimate to do so. the results are summarised in the introductory chapter of the work, and students of religion, and especially of celtic religion, must judge how far they form a true interpretation of the earlier faith of our celtic forefathers, much of which resembles primitive religion and folk-belief everywhere. unfortunately no celt left an account of his own religion, and we are left to our own interpretations, more or less valid, of the existing materials, and to the light shed on them by the comparative study of religions. as this book was written during a long residence in the isle of skye, where the old language of the people still survives, and where the _genius loci_ speaks everywhere of things remote and strange, it may have been easier to attempt to realise the ancient religion there than in a busier or more prosaic place. yet at every point i have felt how much would have been gained could an old celt or druid have revisited his former haunts, and permitted me to question him on a hundred matters which must remain obscure. but this, alas, might not be! i have to thank miss turner and miss annie gilchrist for valuable help rendered in the work of research, and the london library for obtaining for me several works not already in its possession. its stores are an invaluable aid to all students working at a distance from libraries. j.a. macculloch. the rectory, bridge of allan, _october_ . footnotes: [ ] see also my article "celts" in hastings' _encyclopædia of religion and ethics_, vol. iii. [transcriber's note: throughout this book, some characters are used which are not part of the latin- character set used in this e-book. the string "[^y]" is used to represent a lower-case "y" with a circumflex mark on top of it, "[=a]" is used to represent a lower-case "a" with a line on top of it, and "[oe]" is used to represent the "oe"-ligature. numbers in braces such as "{ }" are used to represent the superscription of numbers, which was used in the book to give edition numbers to books.] contents chap. page i. introductory ii. the celtic people iii. the gods of gaul and the continental celts iv. the irish mythological cycle v. the tuatha dÉ danann vi. the gods of the brythons vii. the cÚchulainn cycle viii. the fionn saga ix. gods and men x. the cult of the dead xi. primitive nature worship xii. river and well worship xiii. tree and plant worship xiv. animal worship xv. cosmogony xvi. sacrifice, prayer, and divination xvii. tabu xviii. festivals xix. accessories of cult xx. the druids xxi. magic xxii. the state of the dead xxiii. rebirth and transmigration xxiv. elysium list of abbreviations used in the notes throughout this work (_this list is not a bibliography._) brand: rev. j. brand, _observations on the popular antiquities of great britain._ vols. . blanchet: a. blanchet, _traité des monnaies gauloises._ vols. paris, . bertrand: a. bertrand, _religion des gaulois._ paris, . campbell, _wht_: j.f. campbell, _popular tales of the west highlands._ vols. edinburgh, . campbell _lf_: j.f. campbell, _leabhar na feinne._ london, . campbell, _superstitions_: j.g. campbell, _superstitions of the highlands and islands of scotland._ . campbell, _witchcraft_: j.g. campbell, _witchcraft and second sight in the highlands and islands of scotland._ . cormac: _cormac's glossary._ tr. by j. o'donovan. ed. by w. stokes. calcutta, . courcelle--seneuil.: j.l. courcelle-seneuil, _les dieux gaulois d'après les monuments figurés._ paris, . _cil_: _corpus inscriptionum latinarum._ berlin, f. _cm_: _celtic magazine._ inverness, f. curtin, _hti_: j. curtin, _hero tales of ireland._ . curtin, _tales_: j. curtin, _tales of the fairies and ghost world._ . dalzell: sir j.g. dalzell, _darker superstitions of scotland._ . d'arbois: h. d'arbois de jubainville, _cours de litterature celtique._ vols. paris, - . d'arbois _les celtes_: h. d'arbois de jubainville, _les celtes._ paris, . d'arbois _les druides_: h. d'arbois de jubainville, _les druides et les dieux celtiques à formes d'animaux._ paris, . d'arbois _ph_: h. d'arbois de jubainville, _les premiers habitants de l'europe._ vols. paris, - . dom martin: dom martin, _le religion des gaulois._ vols. paris, . dottin: g. dottin, _manuel pour servir a l'étude de l'antiquité celtique._ paris, . elton: c.i. elton, _origins of english history._ london, . frazer, _gb_{ }: j.g. frazer, _golden bough_{ }. vols. . guest: lady guest, _the mabinogion._ vols. llandovery, . hazlitt: w.c. hazlitt, _faiths and folk-lore: a dictionary of national beliefs, superstitions, and popular customs._ vols. . holder: a. holder, _altceltischer sprachschatz._ vols. leipzig, f. hull: miss e. hull, _the cuchullin saga._ london, . _it_: see windisch-stokes. _jai_: _journal of the anthropological institute._ london, f. joyce, _ocr_: p.w. joyce, _old celtic romances_{ }. london, . joyce, _pn_: p.w. joyce, _history of irish names of places_{ }. vols. london, . joyce, _sh_: p.w. joyce, _social history of ancient ireland._ vols. london, . jullian: c. jullian, _recherches sur la religion gauloise._ bordeaux, . keating: keating, _history of ireland._ tr. o'mahony. london, . kennedy: p. kennedy, _legendary fictions of the irish celts._ . larminie: w. larminie, _west irish folk-tales and romances._ . leahy: leahy, _heroic romances of ireland._ vols. london, . le braz: a. le braz, _la legende de la mort chez les bretons armoricains._ vols. paris, . _ll_: _leabhar laignech_ (book of leinster), facsimile reprint. london, . loth: loth, _le mabinogion._ vols. paris, . _lu_: _leabhar na h-uidhre_ (book of the dun cow), facsimile reprint. london, . macbain: a. macbain, _etymological dictionary of the gaelic language._ inverness, . macdougall: macdougall, _folk and hero tales._ london, . mackinlay: j.m. mackinlay, _folk-lore of scottish lochs and springs._ glasgow, . martin: m. martin, _description of the western islands of scotland_{ }. london, . maury: a. maury, _croyances et legendes du moyen age._ paris, . monnier: d. monnier, _traditions populaires comparées._ paris, . moore: a.w. moore, _folk-lore of the isle of man._ . nutt-meyer: a. nutt and k. meyer, _the voyage of bran._ vols. london, - . o'curry _mc_: e. o'curry, _manners and customs of the ancient irish._ vols. london, . o'curry _ms. mat_: e. o'curry, _ms. materials of ancient irish history._ dublin, . o'grady: s.h. o'grady, _silva gadelica._ vols. . rees: rev. w.j. rees, _lives of cambro-british saints._ llandovery, . reinach, bf: s. reinach, _bronzes figurés de la gaule romaine._ paris, . reinach, bf _catal. sommaire_: s. reinach, _catalogue commaire du musée des antinquitée nationales_{ }. paris. reinach, bf cmr: s. reinach, _cultes, mythes, et religions._ vols. paris, . rc: _revue celtique._ paris, f. renel: c. renel, _religions de la gaule._ paris . rh[^y]s, _al_: sir john rh[^y]s, _the arthurian legend._ oxford, . rh[^y]s, _cb_{ }: sir john rh[^y]s, _celtic britain_{ }. london, . rh[^y]s, _cfl_: sir john rh[^y]s, _celtic folk-lore._ vols. oxford, . rh[^y]s, _hl_: sir john rh[^y]s, _hibbert lectures on celtic heathendom._ london, . sÉbillot: p. sebillot, _la folk-lore de la france._ vols. paris, f. skene: w.f. skene, _four ancient books of wales._ vols. edinburgh, . stokes, _tig_: whitley stokes, _three irish glossaries._ london, . stokes, _trip. life_: whitley stokes, _the tripartite life of patrick._ london . stokes, _us_: whitley stokes, _urkeltischer sprachschatz._ göttingen, (in fick's _vergleichende wörterbuch_{ }). taylor: i. taylor, _origin of the aryans._ london, n.d. _tsc_: _transactions of society of cymmrodor._ _tos_: _transactions of the ossianic society._ dublin - . _trip. life_: see stokes. wilde: lady wilde, _ancient legends and superstitions of ireland._ vols. . windisch, _táin_: e. windisch, _die altirische heldensage táin bó cúalgne._ leipzig, . windisch-stokes, _it_: e. windisch and w. stokes, _irische texte._ leipzig, f. wood-martin: wood-martin, _elder faiths of ireland._ vols. london, . _zcp_: _zeitschrift für celtische philologie._ halle, f. chapter i. introductory. to summon a dead religion from its forgotten grave and to make it tell its story, would require an enchanter's wand. other old faiths, of egypt, babylon, greece, rome, are known to us. but in their case liturgies, myths, theogonies, theologies, and the accessories of cult, remain to yield their report of the outward form of human belief and aspiration. how scanty, on the other hand, are the records of celtic religion! the bygone faith of a people who have inspired the world with noble dreams must be constructed painfully, and often in fear and trembling, out of fragmentary and, in many cases, transformed remains. we have the surface observations of classical observers, dedications in the romano-celtic area to gods mostly assimilated to the gods of the conquerors, figured monuments mainly of the same period, coins, symbols, place and personal names. for the irish celts there is a mass of written material found mainly in eleventh and twelfth century mss. much of this, in spite of alteration and excision, is based on divine and heroic myths, and it also contains occasional notices of ritual. from wales come documents like the _mabinogion_, and strange poems the personages of which are ancient gods transformed, but which tell nothing of rite or cult.[ ] valuable hints are furnished by early ecclesiastical documents, but more important is existing folk-custom, which preserves so much of the old cult, though it has lost its meaning to those who now use it. folk-tales may also be inquired of, if we discriminate between what in them is celtic and what is universal. lastly, celtic burial-mounds and other remains yield their testimony to ancient belief and custom. from these sources we try to rebuild celtic paganism and to guess at its inner spirit, though we are working in the twilight on a heap of fragments. no celt has left us a record of his faith and practice, and the unwritten poems of the druids died with them. yet from these fragments we see the celt as the seeker after god, linking himself by strong ties to the unseen, and eager to conquer the unknown by religious rite or magic art. for the things of the spirit have never appealed in vain to the celtic soul, and long ago classical observers were struck with the religiosity of the celts. they neither forgot nor transgressed the law of the gods, and they thought that no good befell men apart from their will.[ ] the submission of the celts to the druids shows how they welcomed authority in matters of religion, and all celtic regions have been characterised by religious devotion, easily passing over to superstition, and by loyalty to ideals and lost causes. the celts were born dreamers, as their exquisite elysium belief will show, and much that is spiritual and romantic in more than one european literature is due to them. the analogy of religious evolution in other faiths helps us in reconstructing that of the celts. though no historic celtic group was racially pure, the profound influence of the celtic temperament soon "celticised" the religious contributions of the non-celtic element which may already have had many celtic parallels. because a given celtic rite or belief seems to be "un-aryan," it need not necessarily be borrowed. the celts had a savage past, and, conservative as they were, they kept much of it alive. our business, therefore, lies with celtic religion as a whole. these primitive elements were there before the celts migrated from the old "aryan" home; yet since they appear in celtic religion to the end, we speak of them as celtic. the earliest aspect of that religion, before the celts became a separate people, was a cult of nature spirits, or of the life manifested in nature. but men and women probably had separate cults, and, of the two, perhaps that of the latter is more important. as hunters, men worshipped the animals they slew, apologising to them for the slaughter. this apologetic attitude, found with all primitive hunters, is of the nature of a cult. other animals, too sacred to be slain, would be preserved and worshipped, the cult giving rise to domestication and pastoral life, with totemism as a probable factor. earth, producing vegetation, was the fruitful mother; but since the origin of agriculture is mainly due to women, the earth cult would be practised by them, as well as, later, that of vegetation and corn spirits, all regarded as female. as men began to interest themselves in agriculture, they would join in the female cults, probably with the result of changing the sex of the spirits worshipped. an earth-god would take the place of the earth-mother, or stand as her consort or son. vegetation and corn spirits would often become male, though many spirits, even when they were exalted into divinities, remained female. with the growth of religion the vaguer spirits tended to become gods and goddesses, and worshipful animals to become anthropomorphic divinities, with the animals as their symbols, attendants, or victims. and as the cult of vegetation spirits centred in the ritual of planting and sowing, so the cult of the divinities of growth centred in great seasonal and agricultural festivals, in which the key to the growth of celtic religion is to be found. but the migrating celts, conquering new lands, evolved divinities of war; and here the old female influence is still at work, since many of these are female. in spite of possessing so many local war-gods, the celts were not merely men of war. even the _equites_ engaged in war only when occasion arose, and agriculture as well as pastoral industry was constantly practised, both in gaul and britain, before the conquest.[ ] in ireland, the belief in the dependence of fruitfulness upon the king, shows to what extent agriculture flourished there.[ ] music, poetry, crafts, and trade gave rise to culture divinities, perhaps evolved from gods of growth, since later myths attributed to them both the origin of arts and crafts, and the introduction of domestic animals among men. possibly some culture gods had been worshipful animals, now worshipped as gods, who had given these animals to man. culture-goddesses still held their place among culture-gods, and were regarded as their mothers. the prominence of these divinities shows that the celts were more than a race of warriors. the pantheon was thus a large one, but on the whole the divinities of growth were more generally important. the older nature spirits and divine animals were never quite forgotten, especially by the folk, who also preserved the old rituals of vegetation spirits, while the gods of growth were worshipped at the great festivals. yet in essence the lower and the higher cults were one and the same, and, save where roman influence destroyed celtic religion, the older primitive strands are everywhere apparent. the temperament of the celt kept him close to nature, and he never quite dropped the primitive elements of his religion. moreover, the early influence of female cults of female spirits and goddesses remained to the end as another predominant factor. most of the celtic divinities were local in character, each tribe possessing its own group, each god having functions similar to those of other groups. some, however, had or gained a more universal character, absorbing divinities with similar functions. still this local character must be borne in mind. the numerous divinities of gaul, with differing names--but, judging by their assimilation to the same roman divinity, similar functions, are best understood as gods of local groups. this is probably true also of britain and ireland. but those gods worshipped far and wide over the celtic area may be gods of the undivided celts, or gods of some dominant celtic group extending their influence on all sides, or, in some cases, popular gods whose cult passed beyond the tribal bounds. if it seem precarious to see such close similarity in the local gods of a people extending right across europe, appeal can be made to the influence of the celtic temperament, producing everywhere the same results, and to the homogeneity of celtic civilisation, save in local areas, e.g. the south of gaul. moreover, the comparison of the various testimonies of onlookers points to a general similarity, while the permanence of the primitive elements in celtic religion must have tended to keep it everywhere the same. though in gaul we have only inscriptions and in ireland only distorted myths, yet those testimonies, as well as the evidence of folk-survivals in both regions, point to the similarity of religious phenomena. the druids, as a more or less organised priesthood, would assist in preserving the general likeness. thus the primitive nature-spirits gave place to greater or lesser gods, each with his separate department and functions. though growing civilisation tended to separate them from the soil, they never quite lost touch with it. in return for man's worship and sacrifices, they gave life and increase, victory, strength, and skill. but these sacrifices, had been and still often were rites in which the representative of a god was slain. some divinities were worshipped over a wide area, most were gods of local groups, and there were spirits of every place, hill, wood, and stream. magic rites mingled with the cult, but both were guided by an organised priesthood. and as the celts believed in unseen gods, so they believed in an unseen region whither they passed after death. our knowledge of the higher side of celtic religion is practically a blank, since no description of the inner spiritual life has come down to us. how far the celts cultivated religion in our sense of the term, or had glimpses of monotheism, or were troubled by a deep sense of sin, is unknown. but a people whose spiritual influence has later been so great, must have had glimpses of these things. some of them must have known the thirst of the soul for god, or sought a higher ethical standard than that of their time. the enthusiastic reception of christianity, the devotion of the early celtic saints, and the character of the old celtic church, all suggest this. the relation of the celtic church to paganism was mainly intolerant, though not wholly so. it often adopted the less harmful customs of the past, merging pagan festivals in its own, founding churches on the sites of the old cult, dedicating sacred wells to a saint. a saint would visit the tomb of a pagan to hear an old epic rehearsed, or would call up pagan heroes from hell and give them a place in paradise. other saints recall dead heroes from the land of the blessed, and learn the nature of that wonderland and the heroic deeds "of the old days, which seem to be much older than any history that is written in any book." reading such narratives, we gain a lesson in the fine spirit of christian tolerance and christian sympathy. footnotes: [ ] some writers saw in the bardic poetry a druidic-esoteric system and traces of a cult practised secretly by the bards--the "neo-druidic heresy"; see davies, _myth. of the brit. druids_, ; herbert, _the neo-druidic heresy_, . several french writers saw in "druidism" a monotheistic faith, veiled under polytheism. [ ] livy, v. ; cæsar, vi. ; dion. hal. vii. ; arrian, _cyneg_. xxxv. . [ ] cæsar, vi. , cf. v. , "having waged war, remained there and cultivated the lands." [ ] cf. pliny, _hn_ xvii. , xviii. on the wheeled ploughs and agricultural methods of gauls and britons. cf. also strabo, iv. . , iv. . ; girald. camb. _top. hib._ i. , _descr. camb._ i. ; joyce, _sh_ ii. . chapter ii. the celtic people. scrutiny reveals the fact that celtic-speaking peoples are of differing types--short and dark as well as tall and fairer highlanders or welshmen, short, broad-headed bretons, various types of irishmen. men with norse names and norse aspect "have the gaelic." but all alike have the same character and temperament, a striking witness to the influence which the character as well as the language of the celts, whoever they were, made on all with whom they mingled. ethnologically there may not be a celtic race, but something was handed down from the days of comparative celtic purity which welded different social elements into a common type, found often where no celtic tongue is now spoken. it emerges where we least expect it, and the stolid anglo-saxon may suddenly awaken to something in himself due to a forgotten celtic strain in his ancestry. two main theories of celtic origins now hold the field: ( ) the celts are identified with the progenitors of the short, brachycephalic "alpine race" of central europe, existing there in neolithic times, after their migrations from africa and asia. the type is found among the slavs, in parts of germany and scandinavia, and in modern france in the region of cæsar's "celtæ," among the auvergnats, the bretons, and in lozère and jura. representatives of the type have been found in belgian and french neolithic graves.[ ] professor sergi calls this the "eurasiatic race," and, contrary to general opinion, identifies it with the aryans, a savage people, inferior to the dolichocephalic mediterranean race, whose language they aryanised.[ ] professor keane thinks that they were themselves an aryanised folk before reaching europe, who in turn gave their acquired celtic and slavic speech to the preceding masses. later came the belgæ, aryans, who acquired the celtic speech of the people they conquered.[ ] broca assumed that the dark, brachycephalic people whom he identified with cæsar's "celtæ," differed from the belgæ, were conquered by them, and acquired the language of their conquerors, hence wrongly called celtic by philologists. the belgæ were tall and fair, and overran gaul, except aquitaine, mixing generally with the celtæ, who in cæsar's time had thus an infusion of belgic blood.[ ] but before this conquest, the celtæ had already mingled with the aboriginal dolichocephalic folk of gaul, iberians, or mediterraneans of professor sergi. the latter had apparently remained comparatively pure from admixture in aquitaine, and are probably the aquitani of cæsar.[ ] but were the short, brachycephalic folk celts? cæsar says the people who call themselves "celtæ" were called gauls by the romans, and gauls, according to classical writers, were tall and fair.[ ] hence the celtæ were not a short, dark race, and cæsar himself says that gauls (including celtæ) looked with contempt on the short romans.[ ] strabo also says that celtæ and belgæ had the same gaulish appearance, i.e. tall and fair. cæsar's statement that aquitani, galli, and belgæ differ in language, institutions, and laws is vague and unsupported by evidence, and may mean as to language no more than a difference in dialects. this is also suggested by strabo's words, celtæ and belgæ "differ a little" in language.[ ] no classical writer describes the celts as short and dark, but the reverse. short, dark people would have been called iberians, without respect to skulls. classical observers were not craniologists. the short, brachycephalic type is now prominent in france, because it has always been so, eliminating the tall, fair celtic type. conquering celts, fewer in number than the broad and narrow-headed aborigines, intermarried or made less lasting alliances with them. in course of time the type of the more numerous race was bound to prevail. even in cæsar's day the latter probably outnumbered the tall and fair celts, who had, however, celticised them. but classical writers, who knew the true celt as tall and fair, saw that type only, just as every one, on first visiting france or germany, sees his generalised type of frenchman or german everywhere. later, he modifies his opinion, but this the classical observers did not do. cæsar's campaigns must have drained gaul of many tall and fair celts. this, with the tendency of dark types to out-number fair types in south and central europe, may help to explain the growing prominence of the dark type, though the tall, fair type is far from uncommon.[ ] ( ) the second theory, already anticipated, sees in gauls and belgæ a tall, fair celtic folk, speaking a celtic language, and belonging to the race which stretched from ireland to asia minor, from north germany to the po, and were masters of teutonic tribes till they were driven by them from the region between elbe and rhine.[ ] some belgic tribes claimed a germanic ancestry,[ ] but "german" was a word seldom used with precision, and in this case may not mean teutonic. the fair hair of this people has made many suppose that they were akin to the teutons. but fairness is relative, and the dark romans may have called brown hair fair, while they occasionally distinguished between the "fair" gauls and fairer germans. their institutions and their religions (_pace_ professor rh[^y]s) differed, and though they were so long in contact the names of their gods and priests are unlike.[ ] their languages, again, though of "aryan" stock, differ more from each other than does celtic from italic, pointing to a long period of italo-celtic unity, before italiotes and celts separated, and celts came in contact with teutons.[ ] the typical german differs in mental and moral qualities from the typical celt. contrast an east country scot, descendant of teutonic stock, with a west highlander, and the difference leaps to the eyes. celts and germans of history differ, then, in relative fairness, character, religion, and language. the tall, blonde teutonic type of the row graves is dolichocephalic. was the celtic type (assuming that broca's "celts" were not true celts) dolicho or brachy? broca thinks the belgæ or "kymri" were dolichocephalic, but all must agree with him that the skulls are too few to generalise from. celtic iron-age skulls in britain are dolichocephalic, perhaps a recrudescence of the aboriginal type. broca's "kymric" skulls are mesocephalic; this he attributes to crossing with the short round-heads. the evidence is too scanty for generalisation, while the walloons, perhaps descendants of the belgæ, have a high index, and some gauls of classical art are broad-headed.[ ] skulls of the british round barrows (early celtic bronze age) are mainly broad, the best specimens showing affinity to neolithic brachycephalic skulls from grenelle (though their owners were inches shorter), selaigneaux, and borreby.[ ] dr. beddoe thinks that the narrow-skulled belgæ on the whole reinforced the meso- or brachycephalic round barrow folk in britain. dr. thurnam identifies the latter with the belgæ (broca's kymri), and thinks that gaulish skulls were round, with beetling brows.[ ] professors ripley and sergi, disregarding their difference in stature and higher cephalic index, identify them with the short alpine race (broca's celts). this is negatived by mr. keane.[ ] might not both, however, have originally sprung from a common stock and reached europe at different times?[ ] but do a few hundred skulls justify these far-reaching conclusions regarding races enduring for thousands of years? at some very remote period there may have been a celtic type, as at some further period there may have been an aryan type. but the celts, as we know them, must have mingled with the aborigines of europe and become a mixed race, though preserving and endowing others with their racial and mental characteristics. some gauls or belgæ were dolichocephalic, to judge by their skulls, others were brachycephalic, while their fairness was a relative term. classical observers probably generalised from the higher classes, of a purer type; they tell us nothing of the people. but the higher classes may have had varying skulls, as well as stature and colour of hair,[ ] and irish texts tell of a tall, fair, blue-eyed stock, and a short, dark, dark-eyed stock, in ireland. even in those distant ages we must consider the people on whom the celts impressed their characteristics, as well as the celts themselves. what happened on the eurasian steppe, the hypothetical cradle of the "aryans," whence the celts came "stepping westwards," seems clear to some, but in truth is a book sealed with seven seals. the men whose aryan speech was to dominate far and wide may already have possessed different types of skull, and that age was far from "the very beginning." thus the celts before setting out on their _wanderjahre_ may already have been a mixed race, even if their leaders were of purer stock. but they had the bond of common speech, institutions, and religion, and they formed a common celtic type in central and western europe. intermarriage with the already mixed neolithic folk of central europe produced further removal from the unmixed celtic racial type; but though both reacted on each other as far as language, custom, and belief were concerned, on the whole the celtic elements predominated in these respects. the celtic migration into gaul produced further racial mingling with descendants of the old palæolithic stock, dolichocephalic iberians and ligurians, and brachycephalic swarthy folk (broca's celts). thus even the first celtic arrivals in britain, the goidels, were a people of mixed race, though probably relatively purer than the late coming brythons, the latest of whom had probably mingled with the teutons. hence among celtic-speaking folk or their descendants--short, dark, broad-beaded bretons, tall, fair or rufous highlanders, tall chestnut-haired welshmen or irishmen, highlanders of norse descent, short, dark, narrow-headed highlanders, irishmen, and welshmen--there is a common celtic _facies_, the result of old celtic characteristics powerful enough so to impress themselves on such varied peoples in spite of what they gave to the celtic incomers. these peoples became celtic, and celtic in speech and character they have remained, even where ancestral physical types are reasserting themselves. the folk of a celtic type, whether pre-celtic, celtic, or norse, have all spoken a celtic language and exhibit the same old celtic characteristics--vanity, loquacity, excitability, fickleness, imagination, love of the romantic, fidelity, attachment to family ties, sentimental love of their country, religiosity passing over easily to superstition, and a comparatively high degree of sexual morality. some of these traits were already noted by classical observers. celtic speech had early lost the initial _p_ of old indo-european speech, except in words beginning with _pt_ and, perhaps, _ps_. celtic _pare_ (lat. _præ_) became _are_, met with in _aremorici_, "the dwellers by the sea," _arecluta_, "by the clyde," the region watered by the clyde. irish _athair_, manx _ayr_, and irish _iasg_, represent respectively latin _pater_ and _piscis_. _p_ occurring between vowels was also lost, e.g. irish _caora_, "sheep," is from _kaperax_; _for_, "upon" (lat. _super_), from _uper_. this change took place before the goidelic celts broke away and invaded britain in the tenth century b.c., but while celts and teutons were still in contact, since teutons borrowed words with initial _p_, e.g. gothic _fairguni_, "mountain," from celtic _percunion_, later _ercunio_, the hercynian forest. the loss must have occurred before b.c. but after the separation of the goidelic group a further change took place. goidels preserved the sound represented by _qu_, or more simply by _c_ or _ch_, but this was changed into _p_ by the remaining continental celts, who carried with them into gaul, spain, italy, and britain (the brythons) words in which _q_ became _p_. the british _epidii_ is from gaulish _epos_, "horse," which is in old irish _ech_ (lat. _equus_). the parisii take their name from _qarisii_, the pictones or pictavi of poictiers from _pictos_ (which in the plural _pidi_ gives us "picts"), derived from _quicto_. this change took place after the goidelic invasion of britain in the tenth century b.c. on the other hand, some continental celts may later have regained the power of pronouncing _q_. in gaul the _q_ of _sequana_ (seine) was not changed to _p_, and a tribe dwelling on its banks was called the sequani. this assumes that sequana was a pre-celtic word, possibly ligurian.[ ] professor rh[^y]s thinks, however, that goidelic tribes, identified by him with cæsar's celtæ, existed in gaul and spain before the coming of the galli, and had preserved _q_ in their speech. to them we owe sequana, as well as certain names with _q_ in spain.[ ] this at least is certain, that goidelic celts of the _q_ group occupied gaul and spain before reaching britain and ireland. irish tradition and archæological data confirm this.[ ] but whether their descendants were represented by cæsar's "celtæ" must be uncertain. celtæ and galli, according to cæsar, were one and the same,[ ] and must have had the same general form of speech. the dialects of goidelic speech--irish, manx, gaelic, and that of the continental goidels--preserved the _q_ sound; those of gallo-brythonic speech--gaulish, breton, welsh, cornish--changed _q_ into _p_. the speech of the picts, perhaps connected with the pictones of gaul, also had this _p_ sound. who, then, were the picts? according to professor rh[^y]s they were pre-aryans,[ ] but they must have been under the influence of brythonic celts. dr. skene regarded them as goidels speaking a goidelic dialect with brythonic forms.[ ] mr. nicholson thinks they were goidels who had preserved the indo-european _p_.[ ] but might they not be descendants of a brythonic group, arriving early in britain and driven northwards by newcomers? professor windisch and dr. stokes regard them as celts, allied to the brythons rather than to the goidels, the phonetics of their speech resembling those of welsh rather than irish.[ ] the theory of an early goidelic occupation of britain has been contested by professor meyer,[ ] who holds that the first goidels reached britain from ireland in the second century, while dr. macbain[ ] was of the opinion that england, apart from wales and cornwall, knew no goidels, the place-names being brythonic. but unless all goidels reached ireland from gaul or spain, as some did, britain was more easily reached than ireland by migrating goidels from the continent. prominent goidelic place-names would become brythonic, but insignificant places would retain their goidelic form, and to these we must look for decisive evidence.[ ] a goidelic occupation by the ninth century b.c. is suggested by the name "cassiterides" (a word of the _q_ group) applied to britain. if the goidels occupied britain first, they may have called their land _qretanis_ or _qritanis_, which pictish invaders would change to _pretanis_, found in welsh "ynys pridain," pridain's isle, or isle of the picts, "pointing to the original underlying the greek [greek: pretanikai nêsoi] or pictish isles,"[ ] though the change may be due to continental _p_ celts trading with _q_ celts in britain. with the pictish occupation would agree the fact that irish goidels called the picts who came to ireland _cruithne=qritani=pre-tani_. in ireland they almost certainly adopted goidelic speech. whether or not all the pictish invaders of britain were called "pictavi," this word or picti, perhaps from _quicto_ (irish _cicht_, "engraver"),[ ] became a general name for this people. _q_ had been changed into _p_ on the continent; hence "pictavi" or "pictones," "the tattooed men," those who "engraved" figures on their bodies, as the picts certainly did. dispossessed and driven north by incoming brythons and belgæ, they later became the virulent enemies of rome. in eumenius describes all the northern tribes as "caledonii and other picts," while some of the tribes mentioned by ptolemy have brythonic names or names with gaulish cognates. place-names in the pictish area, personal names in the pictish chronicle, and pictish names like "peanfahel,"[ ] have brythonic affinities. if the picts spoke a brythonic dialect, s. columba's need of an interpreter when preaching to them would be explained.[ ] later the picts were conquered by irish goidels, the scotti. the picts, however, must already have mingled with aboriginal peoples and with goidels, if these were already in britain, and they may have adopted their supposed non-aryan customs from the aborigines. on the other hand, the matriarchate seems at one time to have been celtic, and it may have been no more than a conservative survival in the pictish royal house, as it was elsewhere.[ ] britons, as well as caledonii, had wives in common.[ ] as to tattooing, it was practised by the scotti ("the scarred and painted men"?), and the britons dyed themselves with woad, while what seem to be tattoo marks appear on faces on gaulish coins.[ ] tattooing, painting, and scarifying the body are varieties of one general custom, and little stress can be laid on pictish tattooing as indicating a racial difference. its purpose may have been ornamental, or possibly to impart an aspect of fierceness, or the figures may have been totem marks, as they are elsewhere. finally, the description of the caledonii, a pictish people, possessing flaming hair and mighty limbs, shows that they differed from the short, dark pre-celtic folk.[ ] the pictish problem must remain obscure, a welcome puzzle to antiquaries, philologists, and ethnologists. our knowledge of pictish religion is too scanty for the interpretation of celtic religion to be affected by it. but we know that the picts offered sacrifice before war--a celtic custom, and had druids, as also had the celts. the earliest celtic "kingdom" was in the region between the upper waters of the rhine, the elbe, and the danube, where probably in neolithic times the formation of their celtic speech as a distinctive language began. here they first became known to the greeks, probably as a semi-mythical people, the hyperboreans--the folk dwelling beyond the ripoean mountains whence boreas blew--with whom hecatæus in the fourth century identifies them. but they were now known as celts, and their territory as celtica, while "galatas" was used as a synonym of "celtæ," in the third century b.c.[ ] the name generally applied by the romans to the celts was "galli" a term finally confined by them to the people of gaul.[ ] successive bands of celts went forth from this comparatively restricted territory, until the celtic "empire" for some centuries before b.c. included the british isles, parts of the iberian peninsula, gaul, north italy, belgium, holland, great part of germany, and austria. when the german tribes revolted, celtic bands appeared in asia minor, and remained there as the galatian celts. archæological discoveries with a celtic _facies_ have been made in most of these lands but even more striking is the witness of place-names. celtic _dunon_, a fort or castle (the gaelic _dun_), is found in compound names from ireland to southern russia. _magos_, "a field," is met with in britain, france, switzerland, prussia, italy, and austria. river and mountain names familiar in britain occur on the continent. the pennine range of cumberland has the same name as the appenines. rivers named for their inherent divinity, _devos_, are found in britain and on the continent--dee, deva, etc. besides this linguistic, had the celts also a political unity over their great "empire," under one head? such a unity certainly did not prevail from ireland to the balkan peninsula, but it prevailed over a large part of the celtic area. livy, following timagenes, who perhaps cited a lost celtic epos, speaks of king ambicatus ruling over the celts from spain to germany, and sending his sister's sons, bellovesus and segovesus, with many followers, to found new colonies in italy and the hercynian forest.[ ] mythical as this may be, it suggests the hegemony of one tribe or one chief over other tribes and chiefs, for livy says that the sovereign power rested with the bituriges who appointed the king of celticum, viz. ambicatus. some such unity is necessary to explain celtic power in the ancient world, and it was made possible by unity of race or at least of the congeries of celticised peoples, by religious solidarity, and probably by regular gatherings of all the kings or chiefs. if the druids were a celtic priesthood at this time, or already formed a corporation as they did later in gaul, they must have endeavoured to form and preserve such a unity. and if it was never so compact as livy's words suggest, it must have been regarded as an ideal by the celts or by their poets, ambicatus serving as a central figure round which the ideas of empire crystallised. the hegemony existed in gaul, where the arverni and their king claimed power over the other tribes, and where the romans tried to weaken the celtic unity by opposing to them the aedni.[ ] in belgium the hegemony was in the hands of the suessiones, to whose king belgic tribes in britain submitted.[ ] in ireland the "high king" was supreme over other smaller kings, and in galatia the unity of the tribes was preserved by a council with regular assemblies.[ ] the diffusion of the ambicatus legend would help to preserve unity by recalling the mythic greatness of the past. the boii and insubri appealed to transalpine gauls for aid by reminding them of the deeds of their ancestors.[ ] nor would the druids omit to infuse into their pupils' minds the sentiment of national greatness. for this and for other reasons, the romans, to whom "the sovereignty of all gaul" was an obnoxious watch-word, endeavoured to suppress them.[ ] but the celts were too widely scattered ever to form a compact empire.[ ] the roman empire extended itself gradually in the consciousness of its power; the cohesion of the celts in an empire or under one king was made impossible by their migrations and diffusion. their unity, such as it was, was broken by the revolt of the teutonic tribes, and their subjugation was completed by rome. the dreams of wide empire remained dreams. for the celts, in spite of their vigour, have been a race of dreamers, their conquests in later times, those of the spirit rather than of the mailed fist. their superiority has consisted in imparting to others their characteristics; organised unity and a vast empire could never be theirs. footnotes: [ ] ripley, _races of europe_; wilser, _l'anthropologie_, xiv. ; collignon, _ibid._ - ; broca, _rev. d'anthrop._ ii. ff. [ ] sergi, _the mediterranean race_, ff., ff. [ ] keane, _man, past and present_, ff., , . [ ] broca, _mem. d'anthrop._ i. ff. hovelacque thinks, with keane, that the gauls learned celtic from the dark round-heads. but galatian and british celts, who had never been in contact with the latter, spoke celtic. see holmes, _cæsar's conquest of gaul_, - . [ ] cæsar, i. ; collignon, _mem. soc. d'anthrop. de paris_, {me} ser. i. . [ ] cæsar, i. . [ ] cæsar, ii. . [ ] cæsar, i. ; strabo, iv. . . [ ] cf. holmes, ; beddoe, _scottish review_, xix. . [ ] d'arbois, _les celtes_, . [ ] cæsar, ii. ; strabo, vii. . . germans are taller and fairer than gauls; tacitus, _agric._ ii. cf. beddoe, _jai_ xx. - . [ ] d'arbois, _ph_ ii. . welsh gwydion and teutonic wuotan may have the same root, see p. . celtic taranis has been compared to donar, but there is no connection, and taranis was not certainly a thunder-god. much of the folk-religion was alike, but this applies to folk-religion everywhere. [ ] d'arbois, ii. . [ ] beddoe, _l'anthropologie_, v. . tall, fair, and highly brachycephalic types are still found in france, _ibid._ i. ; bortrand-reinach, _les celtes_, . [ ] beddoe, ; _l'anthrop._, v. ; taylor, ; greenwell, _british barrows_, . [ ] _fort. rev._ xvi. ; _mem. of london anthr. soc._, . [ ] ripley, ; sergi, ; keane, ; taylor, . [ ] taylor, , . [ ] the walloons are both dark and fair. [ ] d'arbois, _ph_ ii. . [ ] rh[^y]s, _proc. phil. soc._ ; "celtæ and galli," _proc. brit. acad._ ii. d'arbois points out that we do not know that these words are celtic (_rc_ xii, ). [ ] see pp. , . [ ] cæsar, i. . [ ] _cb_{ } . [ ] skene, i. ch. ; see p. . [ ] _zcp_ iii. ; _keltic researches_. [ ] windisch, "kelt. sprachen," ersch-gruber's _encylopädie_; stokes, _linguistic value of the irish annals_. [ ] _thsc_ - , f. [ ] _cm_ xii. . [ ] in the isle of skye, where, looking at names of prominent places alone, norse derivatives are to gaelic as to , they are as to when names of insignificant places, untouched by norse influence, are included. [ ] rh[^y]s, _cb_{ } . [ ] d'arbois, _les celtes_, . [ ] bede, _eccl. hist._ i. . [ ] adamnan, _vita s. col._ [ ] see p. . [ ] dio cass. lxxvi. ; cæsar, v. . see p. . [ ] isidore, _etymol._ ix. , ; rh[^y]s, _cb_ - ; cæsar, v. ; nicholson, _zcp_ in. . [ ] tacitus, _agric._ ii. [ ] if _celtæ_ is from _qelo_, "to raise," it may mean "the lofty," just as many savages call themselves "the men," _par excellence_. rh[^y]s derives it from _qel_, "to slay," and gives it the sense of "warriors." see holder, _s.v._; stokes, _us_ . _galatæ_ is from _gala_ (irish _gal_), "bravery." hence perhaps "warriors." [ ] "galli" may be connected with "galatæ," but d'arbois denies this. for all these titles see his _ph_ ii. ff. [ ] livy, v. f.; d'arbois, _ph_ ii. , . [ ] strabo, iv. . ; cæsar, i. , vii. ; _frag. hist. græc._ i. . [ ] cæsar, ii. . [ ] strabo, xii. . . [ ] polybius, ii. . [ ] cæsar, i. , - . [ ] on the subject of celtic unity see jullian, "du patriotisme gaulois," _rc_ xxiii. . chapter iii. the gods of gaul and the continental celts. the passage in which cæsar sums up the gaulish pantheon runs: "they worship chiefly the god mercury; of him there are many symbols, and they regard him as the inventor of all the arts, as the guide of travellers, and as possessing great influence over bargains and commerce. after him they worship apollo and mars, juppiter and minerva. about these they hold much the same beliefs as other nations. apollo heals diseases, minerva teaches the elements of industry and the arts, juppiter rules over the heavens, mars directs war.... all the gauls assert that they are descended from dispater, their progenitor."[ ] as will be seen in this chapter, the gauls had many other gods than these, while the roman gods, by whose names cæsar calls the celtic divinities, probably only approximately corresponded to them in functions. as the greeks called by the names of their own gods those of egypt, persia, and babylonia, so the romans identified greek, teutonic, and celtic gods with theirs. the identification was seldom complete, and often extended only to one particular function or attribute. but, as in gaul, it was often part of a state policy, and there the fusion of cults was intended to break the power of the druids. the gauls seem to have adopted roman civilisation easily, and to have acquiesced in the process of assimilation of their divinities to those of their conquerors. hence we have thousands of inscriptions in which a god is called by the name of the roman deity to whom he was assimilated and by his own celtic name--jupiter taranis, apollo grannus, etc. or sometimes to the name of the roman god is added a descriptive celtic epithet or a word derived from a celtic place-name. again, since augustus reinstated the cult of the lares, with himself as chief lar, the epithet augustus was given to all gods to whom the character of the lares could be ascribed, e.g. belenos augustus. cults of local gods became cults of the genius of the place, coupled with the genius of the emperor. in some cases, however, the native name stands alone. the process was aided by art. celtic gods are represented after greco-roman or greco-egyptian models. sometimes these carry a native divine symbol, or, in a few cases, the type is purely native, e.g. that of cernunnos. thus the native paganism was largely transformed before christianity appeared in gaul. many roman gods were worshipped as such, not only by the romans in gaul, but by the gauls, and we find there also traces of the oriental cults affected by the romans.[ ] there were probably in gaul many local gods, tribal or otherwise, of roads and commerce, of the arts, of healing, etc., who, bearing different names, might easily be identified with each other or with roman gods. cæsar's mercury, mars, minerva, etc., probably include many local minervas, mars, and mercuries. there may, however, have been a few great gods common to all gaul, universally worshipped, besides the numerous local gods, some of whom may have been adopted from the aborigines. an examination of the divine names in holder's _altceltischer sprachschatz_ will show how numerous the local gods of the continental celts must have been. professor anwyl reckons that gods are mentioned once on inscriptions, twice, thrice, four times, five times, seven times, fifteen times, nineteen times (grannos), and thirty-nine times (belenos).[ ] the god or gods identified with mercury were very popular in gaul, as cæsar's words and the witness of place-names derived from the roman name of the god show. these had probably supplanted earlier names derived from those of the corresponding native gods. many temples of the god existed, especially in the region of the allobrogi, and bronze statuettes of him have been found in abundance. pliny also describes a colossal statue designed for the arverni who had a great temple of the god on the puy de dôme.[ ] mercury was not necessarily the chief god, and at times, e.g. in war, the native war-gods would be prominent. the native names of the gods assimilated to mercury are many in number; in some cases they are epithets, derived from the names of places where a local "mercury" was worshipped, in others they are derived from some function of the gods.[ ] one of these titles is artaios, perhaps cognate with irish _art_, "god," or connected with _artos_, "bear." professor rh[^y]s, however, finds its cognate in welsh _âr_, "ploughed land," as if one of the god's functions connected him with agriculture.[ ] this is supported by another inscription to mercurius cultor at wurtemberg. local gods of agriculture must thus have been assimilated to mercury. a god moccus, "swine," was also identified with mercury, and the swine was a frequent representative of the corn-spirit or of vegetation divinities in europe. the flesh of the animal was often mixed with the seed corn or buried in the fields to promote fertility. the swine had been a sacred animal among the celts, but had apparently become an anthropomorphic god of fertility, moccus, assimilated to mercury, perhaps because the greek hermes caused fertility in flocks and herds. such a god was one of a class whose importance was great among the celts as an agricultural people. commerce, much developed among the settled gauls, gave rise to a god or gods who guarded roads over which merchants travelled, and boundaries where their transactions took place. hence we have an inscription from yorkshire, "to the god who invented roads and paths," while another local god of roads, equated with mercury, was cimiacinus.[ ] another god, ogmíos, a native god of speech, who draws men by chains fastened to the tip of his tongue, is identified in lucian with heracles, and is identical with the goidelic ogma.[ ] eloquence and speech are important matters among primitive peoples, and this god has more likeness to mercury as a culture-god than to heracles, greek writers speaking of eloquence as binding men with the chains of hermes. several local gods, of agriculture, commerce, and culture, were thus identified with mercury, and the celtic mercury was sometimes worshipped on hilltops, one of the epithets of the god, dumias, being connected with the celtic word for hill or mound. irish gods were also associated with mounds. many local gods were identified with apollo both in his capacity of god of healing and also that of god of light.[ ] the two functions are not incompatible, and this is suggested by the name grannos, god of thermal springs both in britain and on the continent. the name is connected with a root which gives words meaning "burning," "shining," etc., and from which comes also irish _grian_, "sun." the god is still remembered in a chant sung round bonfires in auvergne. a sheaf of corn is set on fire, and called "granno mio," while the people sing, "granno, my friend; granno, my father; granno, my mother."[ ] another god of thermal springs was borvo, bormo, or bormanus, whose name is derived from _borvo_, whence welsh _berw_, "boiling," and is evidently connected with the bubbling of the springs.[ ] votive tablets inscribed grannos or borvo show that the offerers desired healing for themselves or others. the name belenos found over a wide area, but mainly in aquileia, comes from _belo-s_, bright, and probably means "the shining one." it is thus the name of a celtic sun-god, equated with apollo in that character. if he is the belinus referred to by geoffrey of monmouth,[ ] his cult must have extended into britain from the continent, and he is often mentioned by classical writers, while much later ausonius speaks of his priest in gaul.[ ] many place and personal names point to the popularity of his cult, and inscriptions show that he, too, was a god of health and of healing-springs. the plant _belinuntia_ was called after him and venerated for its healing powers.[ ] the sun-god's functions of light and fertility easily passed over into those of health-giving, as our study of celtic festivals will show. a god with the name maponos, connected with words denoting "youthfulness," is found in england and gaul, equated with apollo, who himself is called _bonus puer_ in a dacian inscription. another god mogons or mogounos, whose name is derived from _mago_, "to increase," and suggests the idea of youthful strength, may be a form of the sun-god, though some evidence points to his having been a sky-god.[ ] the celtic apollo is referred to by classical writers. diodorus speaks of his circular temple in an island of the hyperboreans, adorned with votive offerings. the kings of the city where the temple stood, and its overseers, were called "boreads," and every nineteenth year the god appeared dancing in the sky at the spring equinox.[ ] the identifications of the temple with stonehenge and of the boreads with the bards are quite hypothetical. apollonius says that the celts regarded the waters of eridanus as due to the tears of apollo--probably a native myth attributing the creation of springs and rivers to the tears of a god, equated by the greeks with apollo.[ ] the celtic sun-god, as has been seen, was a god of healing springs. some sixty names or titles of celtic war-gods are known, generally equated with mars.[ ] these were probably local tribal divinities regarded as leading their worshippers to battle. some of the names show that these gods were thought of as mighty warriors, e.g. caturix, "battle-king," belatu-cadros--a common name in britain--perhaps meaning "comely in slaughter,"[ ] and albiorix, "world-king."[ ] another name, rigisamus, from _rix_ and _samus_, "like to," gives the idea of "king-like."[ ] toutatis, totatis, and tutatis are found in inscriptions from seckau, york, and old carlisle, and may be identified with lucan's teutates, who with taranis and esus mentioned by him, is regarded as one of three pan-celtic gods.[ ] had this been the case we should have expected to find many more inscriptions to them. the scholiast on lucan identifies teutates now with mars, now with mercury. his name is connected with _teuta_, "tribe," and he is thus a tribal war-god, regarded as the embodiment of the tribe in its warlike capacity. neton, a war-god of the accetani, has a name connected with irish _nia_, "warrior," and may be equated with the irish war-god nét. another god, camulos, known from british and continental inscriptions, and figured on british coins with warlike emblems, has perhaps some connection with cumal, father of fionn, though it is uncertain whether cumal was an irish divinity.[ ] another god equated with mars is the gaulish braciaca, god of malt. according to classical writers, the celts were drunken race, and besides importing quantities of wine, they made their own native drinks, e.g. [greek: chourmi], the irish _cuirm_, and _braccat_, both made from malt (_braich_).[ ] these words, with the gaulish _brace_, "spelt,"[ ] are connected with the name of this god, who was a divine personification of the substance from which the drink was made which produced, according to primitive ideas, the divine frenzy of intoxication. it is not clear why mars should have been equated with this god. cæsar says that the celtic juppiter governed heaven. a god who carries a wheel, probably a sun-god, and another, a god of thunder, called taranis, seem to have been equated with juppiter. the sun-god with the wheel was not equated with apollo, who seems to have represented celtic sun-gods only in so far as they were also gods of healing. in some cases the god with the wheel carries also a thunderbolt, and on some altars, dedicated to juppiter, both a wheel and a thunderbolt are figured. many races have symbolised the sun as a circle or wheel, and an old roman god, summanus, probably a sun-god, later assimilated to juppiter, had as his emblem a wheel. the celts had the same symbolism, and used the wheel symbol as an amulet,[ ] while at the midsummer festivals blazing wheels, symbolising the sun, were rolled down a slope. possibly the god carries a thunderbolt because the celts, like other races, believed that lightning was a spark from the sun. three divinities have claims to be the god whom cæsar calls dispater--a god with a hammer, a crouching god called cernunnos, and a god called esus or silvanus. possibly the native dispater was differently envisaged in different districts, so that these would be local forms of one god. . the god taranis mentioned by lucan is probably the taranoos and taranucnos of inscriptions, sometimes equated with juppiter.[ ] these names are connected with celtic words for "thunder"; hence taranis is a thunder-god. the scholiasts on lucan identify him now with juppiter, now with dispater. this latter identification is supported by many who regard the god with the hammer as at once taranis and dispater, though it cannot be proved that the god with the hammer is taranis. on one inscription the hammer-god is called sucellos; hence we may regard taranis as a distinct deity, a thunder-god, equated with juppiter, and possibly represented by the taran of the welsh tale of _kulhwych_.[ ] primitive men, whose only weapon and tool was a stone axe or hammer, must have regarded it as a symbol of force, then of supernatural force, hence of divinity. it is represented on remains of the stone age, and the axe was a divine symbol to the mycenæans, a hieroglyph of neter to the egyptians, and a worshipful object to polynesians and chaldeans. the cult of axe or hammer may have been widespread, and to the celts, as to many other peoples, it was a divine symbol. thus it does not necessarily denote a thunderbolt, but rather power and might, and possibly, as the tool which shaped things, creative might. the celts made _ex voto_ hammers of lead, or used axe-heads as amulets, or figured them on altars and coins, and they also placed the hammer in the hand of a god.[ ] the god with the hammer is a gracious bearded figure, clad in gaulish dress, and he carries also a cup. his plastic type is derived from that of the alexandrian serapis, ruler of the underworld, and that of hades-pluto.[ ] his emblems, especially that of the hammer, are also those of the pluto of the etruscans, with whom the celts had been in contact.[ ] he is thus a celtic dispater, an underworld god, possibly at one time an earth-god and certainly a god of fertility, and ancestor of the celtic folk. in some cases, like serapis, he carries a _modius_ on his head, and this, like the cup, is an emblem of chthonian gods, and a symbol of the fertility of the soil. the god being benevolent, his hammer, like the tool with which man forms so many things, could only be a symbol of creative force.[ ] as an ancestor of the celts, the god is naturally represented in celtic dress. in one bas-relief he is called sucellos, and has a consort, nantosvelta.[ ] various meanings have been assigned to "sucellos," but it probably denotes the god's power of striking with the hammer. m. d'arbois hence regards him as a god of blight and death, like balor.[ ] but though this celtic dispater was a god of the dead who lived on in the underworld, he was not necessarily a destructive god. the underworld god was the god from whom or from whose kingdom men came forth, and he was also a god of fertility. to this we shall return. . a bearded god, probably squatting, with horns from each of which hangs a torque, is represented on an altar found at paris.[ ] he is called cernunnos, perhaps "the horned," from _cerna_, "horn," and a whole group of nameless gods, with similar or additional attributes, have affinities with him. (a) a bronze statuette from autun represents a similar figure, probably horned, who presents a torque to two ram's-headed serpents. fixed above his ears are two small heads.[ ] on a monument from vandoeuvres is a squatting horned god, pressing a sack. two genii stand beside him on a serpent, while one of them holds a torque.[ ] (b) another squatting horned figure with a torque occurs on an altar from reims. he presses a bag, from which grain escapes, and on it an ox and stag are feeding. a rat is represented on the pediment above, and on either side stand apollo and mercury.[ ] on the altar of saintes is a squatting but headless god with torque and purse. beside him is a goddess with a cornucopia, and a smaller divinity with a cornucopia and an apple. a similar squatting figure, supported by male and female deities, is represented on the other side of the altar.[ ] on the altar of beaune are three figures, one horned with a cornucopia, another three-headed, holding a basket.[ ] three figures, one female and two male, are found on the dennevy altar. one god is three-faced, the other has a cornucopia, which he offers to a serpent.[ ] (c) another image represents a three-faced god, holding a serpent with a ram's head.[ ] (d) above a seated god and goddess on an altar from malmaison is a block carved to represent three faces. to be compared with these are seven steles from reims, each with a triple face but only one pair of eyes. above some of these is a ram's head. on an eighth stele the heads are separated.[ ] cernunnos may thus have been regarded as a three-headed, horned, squatting god, with a torque and ram's-headed serpent. but a horned god is sometimes a member of a triad, perhaps representing myths in which cernunnos was associated with other gods. the three-headed god may be the same as the horned god, though on the beaune altar they are distinct. the various representations are linked together, but it is not certain that all are varying types of one god. horns, torque, horned snake, or even the triple head may have been symbols pertaining to more than one god, though generally associated with cernunnos. the squatting attitude of the god has been differently explained, and its affinities regarded now as buddhist, now as greco-egyptian.[ ] but if the god is a dispater, and the ancestral god of the celts, it is natural, as m. mowat points out, to represent him in the typical attitude of the gauls when sitting, since they did not use seats.[ ] while the horns were probably symbols of power and worn also by chiefs on their helmets,[ ] they may also show that the god was an anthropomorphic form of an earlier animal god, like the wolf-skin of other gods. hence also horned animals would be regarded as symbols of the god, and this may account for their presence on the reims monument. animals are sometimes represented beside the divinities who were their anthropomorphic forms.[ ] similarly the ram's-headed serpent points to animal worship. but its presence with three-headed and horned gods is enigmatic, though, as will be seen later, it may have been connected with a cult of the dead, while the serpent was a chthonian animal.[ ] these gods were gods of fertility and of the underworld of the dead. while the bag or purse (interchangeable with the cornucopia) was a symbol of mercury, it was also a symbol of pluto, and this may point to the fact that the gods who bear it had the same character as pluto. the significance of the torque is also doubtful, but the gauls offered torques to the gods, and they may have been regarded as vehicles of the warrior's strength which passed from him to the god to whom the victor presented it. though many attempts have been made to prove the non-celtic origin of the three-headed divinities or of their images,[ ] there is no reason why the conception should not be celtic, based on some myth now lost to us. the celts had a cult of human heads, and fixed them up on their houses in order to obtain the protection of the ghost. bodies or heads of dead warriors had a protective influence on their land or tribe, and myth told how the head of the god bran saved his country from invasion. in other myths human heads speak after being cut off.[ ] it might thus easily have been believed that the representation of a god's head had a still more powerful protective influence, especially when it was triplicated, thus looking in all directions, like janus. the significance of the triad on these monuments is uncertain but since the supporting divinities are now male, now female, now male and female, it probably represents myths of which the horned or three-headed god was the central figure. perhaps we shall not be far wrong in regarding such gods, on the whole, as cernunnos, a god of abundance to judge by his emblems, and by the cornucopia held by his companions, probably divinities of fertility. in certain cases figures of squatting and horned goddesses with cornucopia occur.[ ] these may be consorts of cernunnos, and perhaps preceded him in origin. we may also go further and see in this god of abundance and fertility at once an earth and an under-earth god, since earth and under-earth are much the same to primitive thought, and fertility springs from below the earth's surface. thus cernunnos would be another form of the celtic dispater. generally speaking, the images of cernunnos are not found where those of the god with the hammer (dispater) are most numerous. these two types may thus be different local forms of dispater. the squatting attitude of cernunnos is natural in the image of the ancestor of a people who squatted. as to the symbols of plenty, we know that pluto was confounded with plutus, the god of riches, because corn and minerals came out of the earth, and were thus the gifts of an earth or under-earth god. celtic myth may have had the same confusion. on a paris altar and on certain steles a god attacks a serpent with a club. the serpent is a chthonian animal, and the god, called smertullos, may be a dispater.[ ] gods who are anthropomorphic forms of earlier animal divinities, sometimes have the animals as symbols or attendants, or are regarded as hostile to them. in some cases dispater may have outgrown the serpent symbolism, the serpent being regarded locally as his foe; this assumes that the god with the club is the same as the god with the hammer. but in the case of cernunnos the animal remained as his symbol. dispater was a god of growth and fertility, and besides being lord of the underworld of the dead, not necessarily a dark region or the abode of "dark" gods as is so often assumed by writers on celtic religion, he was ancestor of the living. this may merely have meant that, as in other mythologies, men came to the surface of the earth from an underground region, like all things whose roots struck deep down into the earth. the lord of the underworld would then easily be regarded as their ancestor.[ ] . the hammer and the cup are also the symbols of a god called silvanus, identified by m. mowat with esus,[ ] a god represented cutting down a tree with an axe. axe and hammer, however, are not necessarily identical, and the symbols are those of dispater, as has been seen. a purely superficial connection between the roman silvanus and the celtic dispater may have been found by gallo-roman artists in the fact that both wear a wolf-skin, while there may once have been a celtic wolf totem-god of the dead.[ ] the roman god was also associated with the wolf. this might be regarded as one out of many examples of a mere superficial assimilation of roman and celtic divinities, but in this case they still kept certain symbols of the native dispater--the cup and hammer. of course, since the latter was also a god of fertility, there was here another link with silvanus, a god of woods and vegetation. the cult of the god was widespread--in spain, s. gaul, the rhine provinces, cisalpine gaul, central europe and britain. but one inscription gives the name selvanos, and it is not impossible that there was a native god selvanus. if so, his name may have been derived from _selva_, "possession," irish _sealbh_, "possession," "cattle," and he may have been a chthonian god of riches, which in primitive communities consisted of cattle.[ ] domestic animals, in celtic mythology, were believed to have come from the god's land. selvanus would thus be easily identified with silvanus, a god of flocks. thus the celtic dispater had various names and forms in different regions, and could be assimilated to different foreign gods. since earth and under-earth are so nearly connected, this divinity may once have been an earth-god, and as such perhaps took the place of an earlier earth-mother, who now became his consort or his mother. on a monument from salzbach, dispater is accompanied by a goddess called aeracura, holding a basket of fruit, and on another monument from ober-seebach, the companion of dispater holds a cornucopia. in the latter instance dispater holds a hammer and cup, and the goddess may be aeracura. aeracura is also associated with dispater in several inscriptions.[ ] it is not yet certain that she is a celtic goddess, but her presence with this evidently celtic god is almost sufficient proof of the fact. she may thus represent the old earth-goddess, whose place the native dispater gradually usurped. lucan mentions a god esus, who is represented on a paris altar as a woodman cutting down a tree, the branches of which are carried round to the next side of the altar, on which is represented a bull with three cranes--tarvos trigaranos. the same figure, unnamed, occurs on another altar at trèves, but in this case the bull's head appears in the branches, and on them sit the birds. m. reinach applies one formula to the subjects of these altars--"the divine woodman hews the tree of the bull with three cranes."[ ] the whole represents some myth unknown to us, but m. d'arbois finds in it some allusion to events in the cúchulainn saga. to this we shall return.[ ] bull and tree are perhaps both divine, and if the animal, like the images of the divine bull, is three-horned, then the three cranes (_garanus_, "crane") may be a rebus for three-horned (_trikeras_), or more probably three-headed (_trikarenos_).[ ] in this case woodman, tree, and bull might all be representatives of a god of vegetation. in early ritual, human, animal, or arboreal representatives of the god were periodically destroyed to ensure fertility, but when the god became separated from these representatives, the destruction or slaying was regarded as a sacrifice to the god, and myths arose telling how he had once slain the animal. in this case, tree and bull, really identical, would be mythically regarded as destroyed by the god whom they had once represented. if esus was a god of vegetation, once represented by a tree, this would explain why, as the scholiast on lucan relates, human sacrifices to esus were suspended from a tree. esus was worshipped at paris and at trèves; a coin with the name Æsus was found in england; and personal names like esugenos, "son of esus," and esunertus, "he who has the strength of esus," occur in england, france, and switzerland.[ ] thus the cult of this god may have been comparatively widespread. but there is no evidence that he was a celtic jehovah or a member, with teutates and taranis, of a pan-celtic triad, or that this triad, introduced by gauls, was not accepted by the druids.[ ] had such a great triad existed, some instance of the occurrence of the three names on one inscription would certainly have been found. lucan does not refer to the gods as a triad, nor as gods of all the celts, or even of one tribe. he lays stress merely on the fact that they were worshipped with human sacrifice, and they were apparently more or less well-known local gods.[ ] the insular celts believed that some of their gods lived on or in hills. we do not know whether such a belief was entertained by the gauls, though some of their deities were worshipped on hills, like the puy de dôme. there is also evidence of mountain worship among them. one inscription runs, "to the mountains"; a god of the pennine alps, poeninus, was equated with juppiter; and the god of the vosges mountains was called vosegus, perhaps still surviving in the giant supposed to haunt them.[ ] certain grouped gods, _dii casses_, were worshipped by celts on the right bank of the rhine, but nothing is known regarding their functions, unless they were road gods. the name means "beautiful" or "pleasant," and _cassi_ appears in personal and tribal names, and also in _cassiterides_, an early name of britain, perhaps signifying that the new lands were "more beautiful" than those the celts had left. when tin was discovered in britain, the mediterranean traders called it [greek: chassiteros], after the name of the place where it was found, as _cupreus_, "copper," was so called from cyprus.[ ] many local tutelar divinities were also worshipped. when a new settlement was founded, it was placed under the protection of a tribal god, or the name of some divinised river on whose banks the village was placed, passed to the village itself, and the divinity became its protector. thus dea bibracte, nemausus, and vasio were tutelar divinities of bibracte, nimes, and vaison. other places were called after belenos, or a group of divinities, usually the _matres_ with a local epithet, watched over a certain district.[ ] the founding of a town was celebrated in an annual festival, with sacrifices and libations to the protecting deity, a practice combated by s. eloi in the eighth century. but the custom of associating a divinity with a town or region was a great help to patriotism. those who fought for their homes felt that they were fighting for their gods, who also fought on their side. several inscriptions, "to the genius of the place," occur in britain, and there are a few traces of tutelar gods in irish texts, but generally local saints had taken their place. the celtic cult of goddesses took two forms, that of individual and that of grouped goddesses, the latter much more numerous than the grouped gods. individual goddesses were worshipped as consorts of gods, or as separate personalities, and in the latter case the cult was sometimes far extended. still more popular was the cult of grouped goddesses. of these the _matres_, like some individual goddesses, were probably early earth-mothers, and since the primitive fertility-cults included all that might then be summed up as "civilisation," such goddesses had already many functions, and might the more readily become divinities of special crafts or even of war. many individual goddesses are known only by their names, and were of a purely local character.[ ] some local goddesses with different names but similar functions are equated with the same roman goddess; others were never so equated. the celtic minerva, or the goddesses equated with her, "taught the elements of industry and the arts,"[ ] and is thus the equivalent of the irish brigit. her functions are in keeping with the position of woman as the first civiliser--discovering agriculture, spinning, the art of pottery, etc. during this period goddesses were chiefly worshipped, and though the celts had long outgrown this primitive stage, such culture-goddesses still retained their importance. a goddess equated with minerva in southern france and britain is belisama, perhaps from _qval_, "to burn" or "shine."[ ] hence she may have been associated with a cult of fire, like brigit and like another goddess sul, equated with minerva at bath and in hesse, and in whose temple perpetual fires burned.[ ] she was also a goddess of hot springs. belisama gave her name to the mersey,[ ] and many goddesses in celtic myth are associated with rivers. some war-goddesses are associated with mars--nemetona (in britain and germany), perhaps the same as the irish nemon, and cathubodua, identical with the irish war-goddess badb-catha, "battle-crow," who tore the bodies of the slain.[ ] another goddess andrasta, "invincible," perhaps the same as the andarta of the voconces, was worshipped by the people of boudicca with human sacrifices, like the native bellona of the scordisci.[ ] a goddess of the chase was identified with artemis in galatia, where she had a priestess camma, and also in the west. at the feast of the galatian goddess dogs were crowned with flowers, her worshippers feasted and a sacrifice was made to her, feast and sacrifice being provided out of money laid aside for every animal taken in the chase.[ ] other goddesses were equated with diana, and one of her statues was destroyed in christian times at trèves.[ ] these goddesses may have been thought of as rushing through the forest with an attendant train, since in later times diana, with whom they were completely assimilated, became, like holda, the leader of the "furious host" and also of witches' revels.[ ] the life of cæsarius of arles speaks of a "demon" called diana by the rustics. a bronze statuette represents the goddess riding a wild boar,[ ] her symbol and, like herself, a creature of the forest, but at an earlier time itself a divinity of whom the goddess became the anthropomorphic form. goddesses, the earlier spirits of the waters, protected rivers and springs, or were associated with gods of healing wells. dirona or sirona is associated with grannos mainly in eastern gaul and the rhine provinces, and is sometimes represented carrying grapes and grain.[ ] thus this goddess may once have been connected with fertility, perhaps an earth-mother, and if her name means "the long-lived,"[ ] this would be an appropriate title for an earth-goddess. another goddess, stanna, mentioned in an inscription at perigueux, is perhaps "the standing or abiding one," and thus may also have been earth-goddess.[ ] grannos was also associated with the local goddesses vesunna and aventia, who gave their names to vesona and avanche. his statue also stood in the temple of the goddess of the seine, sequana.[ ] with bormo were associated bormana in southern gaul, and damona in eastern gaul--perhaps an animal goddess, since the root of her name occurs in irish _dam_, "ox," and welsh _dafad_, "sheep." dea brixia was the consort of luxovius, god of the waters of luxeuil. names of other goddesses of the waters are found on _ex votos_ and plaques which were placed in or near them. the roman nymphæ, sometimes associated with bormo, were the equivalents of the celtic water-goddesses, who survived in the water-fairies of later folk-belief. some river-goddesses gave their names to many rivers in the celtic area--the numerous avons being named from abnoba, goddess of the sources of the danube, and the many dees and dives from divona. clota was goddess of the clyde, sabrina had her throne "beneath the translucent wave" of the severn, icauna was goddess of the yonne, sequana of the seine, and sinnan of the shannon. in some cases forests were ruled by goddesses--that of the ardennes by dea arduinna, and the black forest, perhaps because of the many waters in it, by dea abnoba.[ ] while some goddesses are known only by being associated with a god, e.g. kosmerta with mercury in eastern gaul, others have remained separate, like epona, perhaps a river-goddess merged with an animal divinity, and known from inscriptions as a horse-goddess.[ ] but the most striking instance is found in the grouped goddesses. of these the _deoe matres_, whose name has taken a latin form and whose cult extended to the teutons, are mentioned in many inscriptions all over the celtic area, save in east and north-west gaul.[ ] in art they are usually represented as three in number, holding fruit, flowers, a cornucopia, or an infant. they were thus goddesses of fertility, and probably derived from a cult of a great mother-goddess, the earth personified. she may have survived as a goddess berecynthia; worshipped at autun, where her image was borne through the fields to promote fertility, or as the goddesses equated with demeter and kore, worshipped by women on an island near britain.[ ] such cults of a mother-goddess lie behind many religions, but gradually her place was taken by an earth-god, the celtic dispater or dagda, whose consort the goddess became. she may therefore be the goddess with the cornucopia on monuments of the horned god, or aeracura, consort of dispater, or a goddess on a monument at epinal holding a basket of fruit and a cornucopia, and accompanied by a ram's-headed serpent.[ ] these symbols show that this goddess was akin to the _matres_. but she sometimes preserved her individuality, as in the case of berecynthia and the _matres_, though it is not quite clear why she should have been thus triply multiplied. a similar phenomenon is found in the close connection of demeter and persephone, while the celts regarded three as a sacred number. the primitive division of the year into three seasons--spring, summer, and winter--may have had its effect in triplicating a goddess of fertility with which the course of the seasons was connected.[ ] in other mythologies groups of three goddesses are found, the hathors in egypt, the moirai, gorgons, and graiæ of greece, the roman fates, and the norse nornæ, and it is noticeable that the _matres_ were sometimes equated with the parcæ and fates.[ ] in the _matres_, primarily goddesses of fertility and plenty, we have one of the most popular and also primitive aspects of celtic religion. they originated in an age when women cultivated the ground, and the earth was a goddess whose cult was performed by priestesses. but in course of time new functions were bestowed on the _matres_. possibly river-goddesses and others are merely mothers whose functions have become specialised. the _matres_ are found as guardians of individuals, families, houses, of towns, a province, or a whole nation, as their epithets in inscriptions show. the _matres domesticæ_ are household goddesses; the _matres treveræ_, or _gallaicæ_, or _vediantæ_, are the mothers of trèves, of the gallaecæ, of the vediantii; the _matres nemetiales_ are guardians of groves. besides presiding over the fields as _matres campestræ_ they brought prosperity to towns and people.[ ] they guarded women, especially in childbirth, as _ex votos_ prove, and in this aspect they are akin to the _junones_ worshipped also in gaul and britain. the name thus became generic for most goddesses, but all alike were the lineal descendants of the primitive earth-mother.[ ] popular superstition has preserved the memory of these goddesses in the three _bonnes dames_, _dames blanches_, and white women, met by wayfarers in forests, or in the three fairies or wise women of folk-tales, who appear at the birth of children. but sometimes they have become hateful hags. the _matres_ and other goddesses probably survived in the beneficent fairies of rocks and streams, in the fairy abonde who brought riches to houses, or esterelle of provence who made women fruitful, or aril who watched over meadows, or in beings like melusine, viviane, and others.[ ] in gallo-roman britain the cult of the _matres_ is found, but how far it was indigenous there is uncertain. a welsh name for fairies, _y mamau_, "the mothers," and the phrase, "the blessing of the mothers" used of a fairy benediction, may be a reminiscence of such goddesses.[ ] the presence of similar goddesses in ireland will be considered later.[ ] images of the _matres_ bearing a child have sometimes been taken for those of the virgin, when found accidentally, and as they are of wood blackened with age, they are known as _vierges noires_, and occupy an honoured place in christian sanctuaries. many churches of nôtre dame have been built on sites where an image of the virgin is said to have been miraculously found--the image probably being that of a pagan mother. similarly, an altar to the _matres_ at vaison is now dedicated to the virgin as the "good mother."[ ] in inscriptions from eastern and cisalpine gaul, and from the rhine and danube region, the _matronæ_ are mentioned, and this name is probably indicative of goddesses like the _matres_.[ ] it is akin to that of many rivers, e.g. the marne or meyrone, and shows that the mothers were associated with rivers. the mother river fertilised a large district, and exhibited the characteristic of the whole group of goddesses. akin also to the _matres_ are the _suleviæ_, guardian goddesses called _matres_ in a few inscriptions; the _comedovæ_, whose name perhaps denotes guardianship or power; the _dominæ_, who watched over the home, perhaps the _dames_ of mediæval folk-lore; and the _virgines_, perhaps an appellative of the _matres_, and significant when we find that virgin priestesses existed in gaul and ireland.[ ] the _proxumæ_ were worshipped in southern gaul, and the _quadriviæ_, goddesses of cross-roads, at cherbourg.[ ] some roman gods are found on inscriptions without being equated with native deities. they may have been accepted by the gauls as new gods, or they had perhaps completely ousted similar native gods. others, not mentioned by cæsar, are equated with native deities, juno with clivana, saturn with arvalus, and to a native vulcan the celts vowed spoils of war.[ ] again, many native gods are not equated with roman deities on inscriptions. apart from the divinities of pyrenæan inscriptions, who may not be celtic, the names of over native deities, whether equated with roman gods or not, are known. some of these names are mere epithets, and most of the gods are of a local character, known here by one name, there by another. only in a very few cases can it be asserted that a god was worshipped over the whole celtic area by one name, though some gods in gaul, britain, and ireland with different names have certainly similar functions.[ ] the pantheon of the continental celts was a varied one. traces of the primitive agricultural rites, and of the priority of goddesses to gods, are found, and the vaguer aspects of primitive nature worship are seen behind the cult of divinities of sky, sun, thunder, forests, rivers, or in deities of animal origin. we come next to evidence of a higher stage, in divinities of culture, healing, the chase, war, and the underworld. we see divinities of celtic groups--gods of individuals, the family, the tribe. sometimes war-gods assumed great prominence, in time of war, or among the aristocracy, but with the development of commerce, gods associated with trade and the arts of peace came to the front.[ ] at the same time the popular cults of agricultural districts must have remained as of old. with the adoption of roman civilisation, enlightened celts separated themselves from the lower aspects of their religion, but this would have occurred with growing civilisation had no roman ever entered gaul. in rural districts the more savage aspects of the cult would still have remained, but that these were entirely due to an aboriginal population is erroneous. the celts must have brought such cults with them or adopted cults similar to their own wherever they came. the persistence of these cults is seen in the fact that though christianity modified them, it could not root them out, and in out-of-the-way corners, survivals of the old ritual may still be found, for everywhere the old religion of the soil dies hard. footnotes: [ ] cæsar, _de bell. gall._ vi. , . [ ] bloch (lavisse), _hist, de france_, i. , ; reinaoh, _bf_ , . [ ] _trans. gaelic soc. of inverness_, xxvi. p. f. [ ] vallentin, _les dieux de la cité des allobroges_, ; pliny, _hn_ xxxiv. . [ ] these names are alaunius, arcecius, artaius, arvernorix, arvernus, adsmerius, canetonensis, clavariatis, cissonius, cimbrianus, dumiatis, magniacus, moecus, toeirenus, vassocaletus, vellaunus, visuoius, biausius, cimiacinus, naissatis. see holder, _s.v._ [ ] rh[^y]s, _hl_ . [ ] hübner, vii. ; _cil_ iii. . [ ] lucian, _heracles_, f. some gaulish coins figure a head to which are bound smaller heads. in one case the cords issue from the mouth (blanchet, i. , - ). these may represent lucian's ogmíos, but other interpretations have been put upon them. see robert, _rc_ vii. ; jullian, . [ ] the epithets and names are anextiomarus, belenos, bormo, borvo, or bormanus, cobledulitavus, cosmis (?), grannos, livicus, maponos, mogo or mogounos, sianus, toutiorix, viudonnus, virotutis. see holder, _s.v._ [ ] pommerol, _ball. de soc. d'ant. de paris_, ii. fasc. . [ ] see holder, _s.v._ many place-names are derived from _borvo, e.g._ bourbon l'archambaut, which gave its name to the bourbon dynasty, thus connected with an old celtic god. [ ] see p. , _infra_. [ ] jul. cap. _maxim._ ; herodian, viii. ; tert. _apol._ xxiv. ; auson. _prof._ xi. . [ ] stokes derives _belinuntia_ from _beljo_-, a tree or leaf, irish _bile_, _us_ . [ ] holder, _s.v._; stokes, _us_ ; rh[^y]s, _hl_ ; see p. , _infra_. [ ] diod. sic. ii. . [ ] apoll. rhod. iv. . [ ] albiorix, alator, arixo, beladonnis, barrex, belatucadros, bolvinnus, braciaca, britovis, buxenus, cabetius, camulus, cariocecius, caturix, cemenelus, cicollius, carrus, cocosus, cociduis, condatis, cnabetius, corotiacus, dinomogetimarus, divanno, dunatis, glarinus, halamardus, harmogius, ieusdriuus, lacavus, latabius, leucetius, leucimalacus, lenus, mullo, medocius, mogetius, nabelcus, neton, ocelos, ollondios, rudianus, rigisamus, randosatis, riga, segomo, sinatis, smertatius, toutates, tritullus, vesucius, vincius, vitucadros, vorocius. see holder, _s.v._ [ ] d'arbois, ii. ; rh[^y]s, _hl_ . [ ] so rh[^y]s, _hl_ . [ ] hübner, . [ ] holder, _s.v._; lucan, i. f. the opinions of writers who take this view are collected by reinach, _rc_ xviii. . [ ] holder, _s.v._ the gaulish name camulogenus, "born of cumel," represents the same idea as in fionn's surname, maccumall. [ ] athen. iv. ; dioscorides, ii. ; joyce, _sh_ ii. , ; _it_ i. , . [ ] pliny, _hn_ xviii. . [ ] gaidoz, _le dieu gaulois de soleil_; reinach, _cs_ , _bf_ ; blanchet, i. . [ ] lucan, _phar._ i. . another form, tanaros, may be simply the german donar. [ ] loth, i. . [ ] gaidoz, _rc_ vi. ; reinach, _os_ , ; blanchet, i. . the hammer is also associated with another celtic dispater, equated with sylvanus, who was certainly not a thunder-god. [ ] reinach, _bf_ f.; courcelle-seneuil, f. [ ] barthelemy, _rc_ i. l f. [ ] see flouest, _rev. arch._ v. . [ ] reinach, _rc_ xvii. . [ ] d'arbois, ii. . he explains nantosvelta as meaning "she who is brilliant in war." the goddess, however, has none of the attributes of a war-goddess. m. d'arbois also saw in a bas-relief of the hammer-god, a female figure, and a child, the gaulish equivalents of balor, ethne, and lug (_rc_ xv. ). m. reinach regards sucellos, nantosvelta, and a bird which is figured with them, as the same trio, because pseudo-plutarch (_de fluv._ vi. ) says that _lougos_ means "crow" in celtic. this is more than doubtful. in any case ethne has no warlike traits in irish story, and as lug and balor were deadly enemies, it remains to be explained why they appear tranquilly side by side. see _rc_ xxvi. . perhaps nantosvelta, like other celtic goddesses, was a river nymph. _nanto_ gaulish is "valley," and _nant_ in old breton is "gorge" or "brook." her name might mean "shining river." see stokes, _us_ , . [ ] _rc_ xviii. . cernunnos may be the juppiter cernenos of an inscription from pesth, holder, _s.v._ [ ] reinach, _bf_ , fig. . [ ] _rev. arch._ xix. , pl. . [ ] bertrand, _rev. arch._ xv. , xvi. pl. . [ ] ibid. xv. pl. , . [ ] ibid. xvi. . [ ] ibid. pl. _bis_. [ ] bertrand, _rev. arch._ xvi. . [ ] ibid. xvi. f. [ ] ibid. xv., xvi.; reinach, _bf_ , . [ ] _bull. epig._ i. ; strabo, iv. ; diod. sic. v. . [ ] diod. sic. v. ; reinach, _bf_ . [ ] see p. , _infra_. [ ] see p. , _infra_. [ ] see, e.g., mowat, _bull. epig._ i. ; de witte, _rev. arch._ ii. , xvi. ; bertrand, _ibid._ xvi. . [ ] see pp. , , _infra_; joyce, _sh_ ii. ; curtin, ; _rc_ xxii. , xxiv. . [ ] dom martin, ii. ; reinach, _bf_ , . [ ] see, however, p. , _infra_; and for another interpretation of this god as equivalent of the irish lug slaying balor, see d'arbois, ii. . [ ] see p. , _infra_. [ ] reinach, _bf_ , ; mowat, _bull. epig._ i. , _rev. epig._ , , , . [ ] reinach, _bf_ , , , , ; see p. , _infra_. flouest, _rev. arch._ , i. , thinks that the identification was with an earlier chthonian silvanus. cf. jullian, , note , who observes that the gallo-roman assimilations were made "sur le doinaine archaisant des faits populaires et rustiques de l'italie." for the inscriptions, see holder, _s.v._ [ ] stokes, _us_ ; macbain, ; _rc_ xxvi. . [ ] gaidoz, _rev. arch._ ii. ; mowat, _bull. epig._ i. ; courcelle-seneuil, f.; pauly-wissowa, _real. lex._ i. ; daremberg-saglio, _dict._ ii., _s.v._ "dispater." [ ] lucan, i. ; _rc_ xviii. , . [ ] see p. , _infra_. [ ] for a supposed connection between this bas-relief and the myth of geryon, see reinach, _bf_ ; _rc_ xviii. f. [ ] _coins of the ancient britons_, ; holder, i. , . [ ] for these theories see dom martin, ii. ; bertrand, f. [ ] cf. reinach, _rc_ xviii. . [ ] orelli, , ; monnier, ; tacitus, xxi. . [ ] holder, i. ; reinach, _rev. arch._ xx. ; d'arbois, _les celtes_, . other grouped gods are the bacucei, castoeci, icotii, ifles, lugoves, nervini, and silvani. see holder, _s.v._ [ ] for all these see holder, _s.v._ [ ] professor anwyl gives the following statistics: there are goddesses mentioned once, twice, thrice, four times, six times, eleven times, fourteen times (sirona), twenty-one times (rosmerta), twenty-six times (epona) (_trans. gael. soc. inverness_, xxvi. ). [ ] cæsar, vi. . [ ] d'arbois, _les celtes_, ; _rev. arch._ i. . see holder, _s.v._ [ ] solinus, xxii. ; holder, _s.v._ [ ] ptolemy, ii. . [ ] see p. , _infra_. [ ] dio cass. lxii. ; amm. mare, xxvii. . . [ ] plutarch, _de vir. mul._ ; arrian, _cyneg._ xxxiv. . [ ] s. greg. _hist._ viii. . [ ] grimm, _teut. myth._ , ; reinach, _rc_ xvi. . [ ] reinach, _bf_ . [ ] holder, i. ; robert, _rc_ iv. . [ ] rh[^y]s, _hl_ . [ ] anwyl, _celt. rev._ , . [ ] holder, _s.v._; bulliot, _rc_ ii. . [ ] holder, i. , . [ ] holder, _s.v._; see p. , _infra_. [ ] holder, ii. . they are very numerous in south-east gaul, where also three-headed gods are found. [ ] see pp. - , _infra_. [ ] courcelle-seneuil, - . [ ] see my article "calendar" in hastings' _encyclop. of religion and ethics_, iii. . [ ] _cil_ v. , , vii. ; holder, ii. . [ ] for all these titles see holder, _s.v._ [ ] there is a large literature devoted to the _matres_. see de wal, _die mæder gottinem_; vallentin, _le culte des matræ_; daremberg-saglio, _dict. s.v. matres_; ihm, _jahrbuch. des vereins von alterth. in rheinlande_, no. ; roscher, _lexicon_, ii. f. [ ] see maury, _fées du moyen age_; sébillot, i. ; monnier, f.; wright, _celt, roman, and saxon_, f.; vallentin, _rc_ iv. . the _matres_ may already have had a sinister aspect in roman times, as they appear to be intended by an inscription _lamiis tribus_ on an altar at newcastle. hübner, . [ ] anwyl, _celt. rev._ , . cf. _y foel famau_, "the hill of the mothers," in the clwydian range. [ ] see p. , _infra_. [ ] vallentin, _op. cit._ iv. ; maury, _croyances du moyen age_, . [ ] holder, _s.v._ [ ] see pp. , , _infra_. [ ] for all these see holder, _s.v._; rh[^y]s, _hl_ ; _rc_ iv. . [ ] florus, ii. . [ ] see the table of identifications, p. , _infra_. [ ] we need not assume with jullian, , that there was one supreme god, now a war-god, now a god of peace. any prominent god may have become a war-god on occasion. chapter iv. the irish mythological cycle. three divine and heroic cycles of myths are known in ireland, one telling of the tuatha dé danann, the others of cúchulainn and of the fians. they are distinct in character and contents, but the gods of the first cycle often help the heroes of the other groups, as the gods of greece and india assisted the heroes of the epics. we shall see that some of the personages of these cycles may have been known in gaul; they are remembered in wales, but, in the highlands, where stories of cúchulainn and fionn are still told, the tuatha dé danann are less known now than in , when bishop carsewell lamented the love of the highlanders for "idle, turbulent, lying, worldly stories concerning the tuatha dédanans."[ ] as the new achæan religion in greece and the vedic sacred books of india regarded the aboriginal gods and heroes as demons and goblins, so did christianity in ireland sometimes speak of the older gods there. on the other hand, it was mainly christian scribes who changed the old mythology into history, and made the gods and heroes kings. doubtless myths already existed, telling of the descent of rulers and people from divinities, just as the gauls spoke of their descent from dispater, or as the incas of peru, the mikados of japan, and the kings of uganda considered themselves offspring of the gods. this is a universal practice, and made it the more easy for christian chroniclers to transmute myth into history. in ireland, as elsewhere, myth doubtless told of monstrous races inhabiting the land in earlier days, of the strife of the aborigines and incomers, and of their gods, though the aboriginal gods may in some cases have been identified with celtic gods, or worshipped in their own persons. many mythical elements may therefore be looked for in the euhemerised chronicles of ancient ireland. but the chroniclers themselves were but the continuers of a process which must have been at work as soon as the influence of christianity began to be felt.[ ] their passion, however, was to show the descent of the irish and the older peoples from the old biblical personages, a process dear to the modern anglo-israelite, some of whose arguments are based on the wild romancing of the chroniclers. various stories were told of the first peopling of ireland. banba, with two other daughters of cain, arrived with fifty women and three men, only to die of the plague. three fishermen next discovered ireland, and "of the island of banba of fair women with hardihood they took possession." having gone to fetch their wives, they perished in the deluge at tuath inba.[ ] a more popular account was that of the coming of cessair, noah's granddaughter, with her father, husband, a third man, ladru, "the first dead man of erin," and fifty damsels. her coming was the result of the advice of a _laimh-dhia_, or "hand-god," but their ship was wrecked, and all save her husband, finntain, who survived for centuries, perished in the flood.[ ] cessair's ship was less serviceable than her grandparent's! followed the race of partholan, "no wiser one than the other," who increased on the land until plague swept them away, with the exception of tuan mac caraill, who after many transformations, told the story of ireland to s. finnen centuries after.[ ] the survival of finntain and tuan, doubles of each other, was an invention of the chroniclers, to explain the survival of the history of colonists who had all perished. keating, on the other hand, rejecting the sole survivor theory as contradictory to scripture, suggests that "aerial demons," followers of the invaders, revealed all to the chroniclers, unless indeed they found it engraved with "an iron pen and lead in the rocks."[ ] two hundred years before partholan's coming, the fomorians had arrived,[ ] and they and their chief cichol gricenchos fought partholan at mag itha, where they were defeated. cichol was footless, and some of his host had but one arm and one leg.[ ] they were demons, according to the chroniclers, and descendants of the luckless ham. nennius makes partholan and his men the first scots who came from spain to ireland. the next arrivals were the people of nemed who returned to spain, whence they came (nennius), or died to a man (tuan). they also were descendants of the inevitable noah, and their sojourn in ireland was much disturbed by the fomorians who had recovered from their defeat, and finally overpowered the nemedians after the death of nemed.[ ] from tory island the fomorians ruled ireland, and forced the nemedians to pay them annually on the eve of samhain (nov. st) two-thirds of their corn and milk and of the children born during the year. if the fomorians are gods of darkness, or, preferably, aboriginal deities, the tribute must be explained as a dim memory of sacrifice offered at the beginning of winter when the powers of darkness and blight are in the ascendant. the fomorians had a tower of glass in tory island. this was one day seen by the milesians, to whom appeared on its battlements what seemed to be men. a year after they attacked the tower and were overwhelmed in the sea.[ ] from the survivors of a previously wrecked vessel of their fleet are descended the irish. another version makes the nemedians the assailants. thirty of them survived their defeat, some of them going to scotland or man (the britons), some to greece (to return as the firbolgs), some to the north, where they learned magic and returned as the tuatha dé danann.[ ] the firbolgs, "men of bags," resenting their ignominious treatment by the greeks, escaped to ireland. they included the firbolgs proper, the fir-domnann, and the galioin.[ ] the fomorians are called their gods, and this, with the contemptuous epithets bestowed on them, may point to the fact that the firbolgs were the pre-celtic folk of ireland and the fomorians their divinities, hostile to the gods of the celts or regarded as dark deities. the firbolgs are vassals of ailill and medb, and with the fir domnann and galioin are hostile to cúchulainn and his men,[ ] just as fomorians were to the tuatha dé danann. the strifes of races and of their gods are inextricably confused. the tuatha dé danann arrived from heaven--an idea in keeping with their character as beneficent gods, but later legend told how they came from the north. they reached ireland on beltane, shrouded in a magic mist, and finally, after one or, in other accounts, two battles, defeated the firbolgs and fomorians at magtured. the older story of one battle may be regarded as a euhemerised account of the seeming conflict of nature powers.[ ] the first battle is described in a fifteenth to sixteenth century ms.,[ ] and is referred to in a fifteenth century account of the second battle, full of archaic reminiscences, and composed from various earlier documents.[ ] the firbolgs, defeated in the first battle, join the fomorians, after great losses. meanwhile nuada, leader of the tuatha dé danann, lost his hand, and as no king with a blemish could sit on the throne, the crown was given to bres, son of the fomorian elatha and his sister eri, a woman of the tuatha dé danann. one day eri espied a silver boat speeding to her across the sea. from it stepped forth a magnificent hero, and without delay the pair, like the lovers in theocritus, "rejoiced in their wedlock." the hero, elatha, foretold the birth of eri's son, so beautiful that he would be a standard by which to try all beautiful things. he gave her his ring, but she was to part with it only to one whose finger it should fit. this was her child bres, and by this token he was later, as an exile, recognised by his father, and obtained his help against the tuatha dé danann. like other wonderful children, bres grew twice as quickly as any other child until he was seven.[ ] though elatha and eri are brother and sister, she is among the tuatha dé danann.[ ] there is the usual inconsistency of myth here and in other accounts of fomorian and tuatha dé danann unions. the latter had just landed, but already had united in marriage with the fomorians. this inconsistency escaped the chroniclers, but it points to the fact that both were divine not human, and that, though in conflict, they united in marriage as members of hostile tribes often do. the second battle took place twenty-seven years after the first, on samhain. it was fought like the first on the plain of mag-tured, though later accounts made one battle take place at mag-tured in mayo, the other at mag-tured in sligo.[ ] inconsistently, the conquering tuatha dé danann in the interval, while bres is their king, must pay tribute imposed by the fomorians. obviously in older accounts this tribute must have been imposed before the first battle and have been its cause. but why should gods, like the tuatha dé danann, ever have been in subjection? this remains to be seen, but the answer probably lies in parallel myths of the subjection or death of divinities like ishtar, adonis, persephone, and osiris. bres having exacted a tribute of the milk of all hornless dun cows, the cows of ireland were passed through fire and smeared with ashes--a myth based perhaps on the beltane fire ritual.[ ] the avaricious bres was satirised, and "nought but decay was on him from that hour,"[ ] and when nuada, having recovered, claimed the throne, he went to collect an army of the fomorians, who assembled against the tuatha dé danann. in the battle indech wounded ogma, and balor slew nuada, but was mortally wounded by lug. thereupon the fomorians fled to their own region. the tuatha dé danann remained masters of ireland until the coming of the milesians, so named from an eponymous mile, son of bile. ith, having been sent to reconnoitre, was slain, and the milesians now invaded ireland in force. in spite of a mist raised by the druids, they landed, and, having met the three princes who slew ith, demanded instant battle or surrender of the land. the princes agreed to abide by the decision of the milesian poet amairgen, who bade his friends re-embark and retire for the distance of nine waves. if they could then effect a landing, ireland was theirs. a magic storm was raised, which wrecked many of their ships, but amairgen recited verses, fragments, perhaps, of some old ritual, and overcame the dangers. after their defeat the survivors of the tuatha dé danann retired into the hills to become a fairy folk, and the milesians (the goidels or scots) became ancestors of the irish. throughout the long story of the conquests of ireland there are many reduplications, the same incidents being often ascribed to different personages.[ ] different versions of similar occurrences, based on older myths and traditions, may already have been in existence, and ritual practices, dimly remembered, required explanation. in the hands of the chroniclers, writing history with a purpose and combining their information with little regard to consistency, all this was reduced to a more or less connected narrative. at the hands of the prosaic chroniclers divinity passed from the gods, though traces of it still linger. "ye are gods, and, behold, ye shall die, and the waves be upon you at last. in the darkness of time, in the deeps of the years, in the changes of things, ye shall sleep as a slain man sleeps, and the world shall forget you for kings." from the annalistic point of view the fomorians are sea demons or pirates, their name being derived from _muir_, "sea," while they are descended along with other monstrous beings from them. professor rh[^y]s, while connecting the name with welsh _foawr_, "giant" (gaelic _famhair_), derives the name from _fo_, "under," and _muir_, and regards them as submarine beings.[ ] dr. macbain connected them with the fierce powers of the western sea personified, like the _muireartach_, a kind of sea hag, of a fionn ballad.[ ] but this association of the fomorians with the ocean may be the result of a late folk-etymology, which wrongly derived their name from _muir_. the celtic experience of the lochlanners or norsemen, with whom the fomorians are associated,[ ] would aid the conception of them as sea-pirates of a more or less demoniacal character. dr. stokes connects the second syllable _mor_ with _mare_ in "nightmare," from _moro_, and regards them as subterranean as well as submarine.[ ] but the more probable derivation is that of zimmer and d'arbois, from _fo_ and _morio_ (_mor_, "great"),[ ] which would thus agree with the tradition which regarded them as giants. they were probably beneficent gods of the aborigines, whom the celtic conquerors regarded as generally evil, perhaps equating them with the dark powers already known to them. they were still remembered as gods, and are called "champions of the _síd_," like the tuatha dé danann.[ ] thus king bres sought to save his life by promising that the kine of ireland would always be in milk, then that the men of ireland would reap every quarter, and finally by revealing the lucky days for ploughing, sowing, and reaping.[ ] only an autochthonous god could know this, and the story is suggestive of the true nature of the fomorians. the hostile character attributed to them is seen from the fact that they destroyed corn, milk, and fruit. but in ireland, as elsewhere, this destructive power was deprecated by begging them not to destroy "corn nor milk in erin beyond their fair tribute."[ ] tribute was also paid to them on samhain, the time when the powers of blight feared by men are in the ascendant. again, the kingdom of balor, their chief, is still described as the kingdom of cold.[ ] but when we remember that a similar "tribute" was paid to cromm cruaich, a god of fertility, and that after the conquest of the tuatha dé danann they also were regarded as hostile to agriculture,[ ] we realise that the fomorians must have been aboriginal gods of fertility whom the conquering celts regarded as hostile to them and their gods. similarly, in folk-belief the beneficent corn-spirit has sometimes a sinister and destructive aspect.[ ] thus the stories of "tribute" would be distorted reminiscences of the ritual of gods of the soil, differing little in character from that of the similar celtic divinities. what makes it certain that the fomorians were aboriginal gods is that they are found in ireland before the coming of the early colonist partholan. they were the gods of the pre-celtic folk--firbolgs, fir domnann, and galioin[ ]--all of them in ireland before the tuatha dé danaan arrived, and all of them regarded as slaves, spoken of with the utmost contempt. another possibility, however, ought to be considered. as the celtic gods were local in character, and as groups of tribes would frequently be hostile to other groups, the fomorians may have been local gods of a group at enmity with another group, worshipping the tuatha dé danaan. the strife of fomorians and tuatha dé danann suggests the dualism of all nature religions. demons or giants or monsters strive with gods in hindu, greek, and teutonic mythology, and in persia the primitive dualism of beneficent and hurtful powers of nature became an ethical dualism--the eternal opposition of good and evil. the sun is vanquished by cloud and storm, but shines forth again in vigour. vegetation dies, but undergoes a yearly renewal. so in myth the immortal gods are wounded and slain in strife. but we must not push too far the analogy of the apparent strife of the elements and the wars of the gods. the one suggested the other, especially where the gods were elemental powers. but myth-making man easily developed the suggestion; gods were like men and "could never get eneuch o' fechtin'." the celts knew of divine combats before their arrival in ireland, and their own hostile powers were easily assimilated to the hostile gods of the aborigines. the principal fomorians are described as kings. elatha was son of nét, described by cormac as "a battle god of the heathen gael," i.e. he is one of the tuatha dé danann, and has as wives two war-goddesses, badb and nemaind.[ ] thus he resembles the fomorian tethra whose wife is a _badb_ or "battle-crow," preying on the slain.[ ] elatha's name, connected with words meaning "knowledge," suggests that he was an aboriginal culture-god.[ ] in the genealogies, fomorians and tuatha dé danann are inextricably mingled. bres's temporary position as king of the tuatha déa may reflect some myth of the occasional supremacy of the powers of blight. want and niggardliness characterise his reign, and after his defeat a better state of things prevails. bres's consort was brigit, and their son ruadan, sent to spy on the tuatha dé danann, was slain. his mother's wailing for him was the first mourning wail ever heard in erin.[ ] another god, indech, was son of déa domnu, a fomorian goddess of the deep, i.e. of the underworld and probably also of fertility, who may hold a position among the fomorians similar to that of danu among the tuatha dé danann. indech was slain by ogma, who himself died of wounds received from his adversary. balor had a consort cethlenn, whose venom killed dagda. his one eye had become evil by contact with the poisonous fumes of a concoction which his father's druids were preparing. the eyelid required four men to raise it, when his evil eye destroyed all on whom its glance fell. in this way balor would have slain lug at mag-tured, but the god at once struck the eye with a sling-stone and slew him.[ ] balor, like the greek medusa, is perhaps a personification of the evil eye, so much feared by the celts. healthful influences and magical charms avert it; hence lug, a beneficent god, destroys balor's maleficence. tethra, with balor and elatha, ruled over erin at the coming of the tuatha dé danann. from a phrase used in the story of connla's visit to elysium, "thou art a hero of the men of tethra," m. d'arbois assumes that tethra was ruler of elysium, which he makes one with the land of the dead. the passage, however, bears a different interpretation, and though a fomorian, tethra, a god of war, might be regarded as lord of all warriors.[ ] elysium was not the land of the dead, and when m. d'arbois equates tethra with kronos, who after his defeat became ruler of a land of dead heroes, the analogy, like other analogies with greek mythology, is misleading. he also equates bres, as temporary king of the tuatha dé danann, with kronos, king of heaven in the age of gold. kronos, again, slain by zeus, is parallel to balor slain by his grandson lug. tethra, bres, and balor are thus separate fragments of one god equivalent to kronos.[ ] yet their personalities are quite distinct. each race works out its mythology for itself, and, while parallels are inevitable, we should not allow these to override the actual myths as they have come down to us. professor rh[^y]s makes bile, ancestor of the milesians who came from spain, a goidelic counterpart of the gaulish dispater, lord of the dead, from whom the gauls claimed descent. but bile, neither a fomorian nor of the tuatha dé danann, is an imaginary and shadowy creation. bile is next equated with a brythonic beli, assumed to be consort of dôn, whose family are equivalent to the tuatha dé danann.[ ] beli was a mythic king whose reign was a kind of golden age, and if he was father of dôn's children, which is doubtful, bile would then be father of the tuatha dé danann. but he is ancestor of the milesians, their opponents according to the annalists. beli is also equated with elatha, and since dôn, reputed consort of beli, was grandmother of llew, equated with irish lug, grandson of balor, balor is equivalent to beli, whose name is regarded by professor rh[^y]s as related etymologically to balor's.[ ] bile, balor, and elatha are thus goidelic equivalents of the shadowy beli. but they also are quite distinct personalities, nor are they ever hinted at as ancestral gods of the celts, or gods of a gloomy underworld. in celtic belief the underworld was probably a fertile region and a place of light, nor were its gods harmful and evil, as balor was. on the whole, the fomorians came to be regarded as the powers of nature in its hostile aspect. they personified blight, winter, darkness, and death, before which men trembled, yet were not wholly cast down, since the immortal gods of growth and light, rulers of the bright other-world, were on their side and fought against their enemies. year by year the gods suffered deadly harm, but returned as conquerors to renew the struggle once more. myth spoke of this as having happened once for all, but it went on continuously.[ ] gods were immortal and only seemed to die. the strife was represented in ritual, since men believe that they can aid the gods by magic, rite, or prayer. why, then, do hostile fomorians and tuatha dé danann intermarry? this happens in all mythologies, and it probably reflects, in the divine sphere, what takes place among men. hostile peoples carry off each the other's women, or they have periods of friendliness and consequent intermarriage. man makes his gods in his own image, and the problem is best explained by facts like these, exaggerated no doubt by the irish annalists. the tuatha dé danann, in spite of their euhemerisation, are more than human. in the north where they learned magic, they dwelt in four cities, from each of which they brought a magical treasure--the stone of fal, which "roared under every king," lug's unconquerable spear, nuada's irresistible sword, the dagda's inexhaustible cauldron. but they are more than wizards or druids. they are re-born as mortals; they have a divine world of their own, they interfere in and influence human affairs. the euhemerists did not go far enough, and more than once their divinity is practically acknowledged. when the fian caoilte and a woman of the tuatha dé danann appear before s. patrick, he asks, "why is she youthful and beautiful, while you are old and wrinkled?" and caoilte replies, "she is of the tuatha dé danann, who are unfading and whose duration is perennial. i am of the sons of milesius, that are perishable and fade away."[ ] after their conversion, the celts, sons of milesius, thought that the gods still existed in the hollow hills, their former dwellings and sanctuaries, or in far-off islands, still caring for their former worshippers. this tradition had its place with that which made them a race of men conquered by the milesians--the victory of christianity over paganism and its gods having been transmuted into a strife of races by the euhemerists. the new faith, not the people, conquered the old gods. the tuatha dé danann became the _daoine-sidhe_, a fairy folk, still occasionally called by their old name, just as individual fairy kings or queens bear the names of the ancient gods. the euhemerists gave the fomorians a monstrous and demoniac character, which they did not always give to the tuatha dé danann; in this continuing the old tradition that fomorians were hostile and the tuatha dé danann beneficent and mild. the mythological cycle is not a complete "body of divinity"; its apparent completeness results from the chronological order of the annalists. fragments of other myths are found in the _dindsenchas_; others exist as romantic tales, and we have no reason to believe that all the old myths have been preserved. but enough remains to show the true nature of the tuatha dé danann--their supernatural character, their powers, their divine and unfailing food and drink, their mysterious and beautiful abode. in their contents, their personages, in the actions that are described in them, the materials of the "mythological cycle," show how widely it differs from the cúchulainn and fionn cycles.[ ] "the white radiance of eternity" suffuses it; the heroic cycles, magical and romantic as they are, belong far more to earth and time. footnotes: [ ] for some highland references to the gods in saga and _märchen_, see _book of the dean of lismore_, ; campbell, _wht_ ii. . the sea-god lir is probably the liur of ossianic ballads (campbell, _lf_ , ), and his son manannan is perhaps "the son of the sea" in a gaelic song (carmichael, _cg_ ii. ). manannan and his daughters are also known (campbell, _witchcraft_, ). [ ] the euhemerising process is first seen in tenth century poems by eochaid hua flainn, but was largely the work of flainn manistrech, _ob._ . it is found fully fledged in the _book of invasions_. [ ] keating, - . [ ] keating, ; _ll_ _b_. cf. _rc_ xvi. . [ ] _ll_ . [ ] keating, . giraldus cambrensis, _hist. irel._ c. , makes roanus survive and tell the tale of partholan to s. patrick. he is the caoilte mac ronan of other tales, a survivor of the fians, who held many racy dialogues with the saint. keating abuses giraldus for equating roanus with finntain in his "lying history," and for calling him roanus instead of ronanus, a mistake in which he, "the guide bull of the herd," is followed by others. [ ] keating, . [ ] _ll_ _a_. [ ] keating, ; _ll_ _a_; _rc_ xvi. . [ ] nennius, _hist. brit._ . [ ] _ll_ , _b_. [ ] _ll_ _b_, _a_; _it_ iii. ; _rc_ xvi. . [ ] _ll_ _b_, _a_. [ ] see cormac, _s.v._ "nescoit," _lu_ . [ ] _harl. mss._ , , pp. - . cf. fragment from _book of invasions_ in _ll_ . [ ] _harl. ms._ , translated in _rc_ xii. f. [ ] _rc_ xii. ; d'arbois, v. f. [ ] for celtic brother-sister unions see p. . [ ] o'donovan, _annals_, i. . [ ] _rc_ xv. . [ ] _rc_ xii. . [ ] professor rh[^y]s thinks the partholan story is the aboriginal, the median the celtic version of the same event. partholan, with initial _p_ cannot be goidelic (_scottish review_, , "myth. treatment of celtic ethnology"). [ ] _hl_ . [ ] _cm_ ix. ; campbell _lf_ . [ ] _rc_ xii. . [ ] _us_ . [ ] d'arbois, ii. ; _rc_ xii. . [ ] _rc_ xii. . [ ] _rc_ xii. . [ ] _rc_ xxii. . [ ] larmime, "kian, son of kontje." [ ] see p. ; _ll_ _b_. [ ] mannhardt, _mythol. forsch._ f. [ ] "fir domnann," "men of domna," a goddess (rh[^y]s, _hl_ ), or a god (d'arbois, ii. ). "domna" is connected with irish-words meaning "deep" (windisch, _it_ i. ; stokes, _us_ ). domna, or domnu, may therefore have been a goddess of the deep, not the sea so much as the underworld, and so perhaps an earth-mother from whom the fir domnann traced their descent. [ ] cormac, _s.v._ "neith"; d'arbois, v. ; _rc_ xii. . [ ] _lu_ . tethra is glossed _badb_ (_it_ i. ). [ ] _it_ i. ; rh[^y]s, _hl_ f. [ ] _rc_ xii. . [ ] _rc_ xii. . [ ] see p. . [ ] d'arbois, ii. , . [ ] _hl_ - . [ ] _hl_ , , . for beli, see p. , _infra_. [ ] whatever the signification of the battle of mag-tured may be, the place which it was localised is crowded with neolithic megaliths, dolmens, etc. to later fancy these were the graves of warriors slain in a great battle fought there, and that battle became the fight between fomorians and tuatha dé dananns. mag-tured may have been the scene of a battle between their respective worshippers. [ ] o'grady, ii. . [ ] it should be observed that, as in the vedas, the odyssey, the japanese _ko-ji-ki_, as well as in barbaric and savage mythologies, _märchen_ formulæ abound in the irish mythological cycle. chapter v. the tuatha dÉ danann the meaning formerly given to _tuatha dé danann_ was "the men of science who were gods," _danann_ being here connected with _dán_, "knowledge." but the true meaning is "the tribes _or_ folk of the goddess danu,"[ ] which agrees with the cognates _tuatha_ or _fir dea_, "tribes _or_ men of the goddess." the name was given to the group, though danu had only three sons, brian, iuchar, and iucharbar. hence the group is also called _fir tri ndea_, "men of the three gods."[ ] the equivalents in welsh story of danu and her folk are dôn and her children. we have seen that though they are described as kings and warriors by the annalists, traces of their divinity appear. in the cúchulainn cycle they are supernatural beings and sometimes demons, helping or harming men, and in the fionn cycle all these characteristics are ascribed to them. but the theory which prevailed most is that which connected them with the hills or mounds, the last resting-places of the mighty dead. some of these bore their names, while other beings were also associated with the mounds (_síd_)--fomorians and milesian chiefs, heroes of the sagas, or those who had actually been buried in them.[ ] legend told how, after the defeat of the gods, the mounds were divided among them, the method of division varying in different versions. in an early version the tuatha dé danann are immortal and the dagda divides the _síd_.[ ] but in a poem of flann manistrech (_ob._ ) they are mortals and die.[ ] now follows a regular chronology giving the dates of their reigns and their deaths, as in the poem of gilla coemain (eleventh century).[ ] hence another legend told how, dagda being dead, bodb dearg divided the _síd_, yet even here manannan is said to have conferred immortality upon the tuatha dé danann.[ ] the old pagan myths had shown that gods might die, while in ritual their representatives were slain, and this may have been the starting-point of the euhemerising process. but the divinity of the tuatha dé danann is still recalled. eochaid o'flynn (tenth century), doubtful whether they are men or demons, concludes, "though i have treated of these deities in order, yet have i not adored them."[ ] even in later times they were still thought of as gods in exile, a view which appears in the romantic tales and sagas existing side by side with the notices of the annalists. they were also regarded as fairy kings and queens, and yet fairies of a different order from those of ordinary tradition. they are "fairies or sprites with corporeal forms, endowed with immortality," and yet also _dei terreni_ or _síde_ worshipped by the folk before the coming of s. patrick. even the saint and several bishops were called by the fair pagan daughters of king loegaire, _fir síde_, "men of the _síd_," that is, gods.[ ] the _síd_ were named after the names of the tuatha dé danann who reigned in them, but the tradition being localised in different places, several mounds were sometimes connected with one god. the _síd_ were marvellous underground palaces, full of strange things, and thither favoured mortals might go for a time or for ever. in this they correspond exactly to the oversea elysium, the divine land. but why were the tuatha dé danann associated with the mounds? if fairies or an analogous race of beings were already in pagan times connected with hills or mounds, gods now regarded as fairies would be connected with them. dr. joyce and o'curry think that an older race of aboriginal gods or _síd-folk_ preceded the tuatha déa in the mounds.[ ] these may have been the fomorians, the "champions of the _síd_," while in _mesca ulad_ the tuatha déa go to the underground dwellings and speak with the _síde_ already there. we do not know that the fairy creed as such existed in pagan times, but if the _síde_ and the tuatha dé danann were once distinct, they were gradually assimilated. thus the dagda is called "king of the _síde_"; aed abrat and his daughters, fand and liban, and labraid, liban's husband, are called _síde_, and manannan is fand's consort.[ ] labraid's island, like the _síd_ of mider and the land to which women of the _síde_ invite connla, differs but little from the usual divine elysium, while mider, one of the _síde_, is associated with the tuatha dé danann.[ ] the _síde_ are once said to be female, and are frequently supernatural women who run away or marry mortals.[ ] thus they may be a reminiscence of old earth goddesses. but they are not exclusively female, since there are kings of the _síde_, and as the name _fir síde_, "men of the _síde_," shows, while s. patrick and his friends were taken for _síd_-folk. the formation of the legend was also aided by the old cult of the gods on heights, some of them sepulchral mounds, and now occasionally sites of christian churches.[ ] the irish god cenn cruaich and his welsh equivalent penn cruc, whose name survives in _pennocrucium_, have names meaning "chief _or_ head of the mound."[ ] other mounds or hills had also a sacred character. hence gods worshipped at mounds, dwelling or revealing themselves there, still lingered in the haunted spots; they became fairies, or were associated with the dead buried in the mounds, as fairies also have been, or were themselves thought to have died and been buried there. the haunting of the mounds by the old gods is seen in a prayer of s. columba's, who begs god to dispel "this host (i.e. the old gods) around the cairns that reigneth."[ ] an early ms also tells how the milesians allotted the underground part of erin to the tuatha déa who now retired within the hills; in other words, they were gods of the hills worshipped by the milesians on hills.[ ] but, as we shall see, the gods dwelt elsewhere than in hills.[ ] tumuli may already in pagan times have been pointed out as tombs of gods who died in myth or ritual, like the tombs of zeus in crete and of osiris in egypt. again, fairies, in some aspects, are ghosts of the dead, and haunt tumuli; hence, when gods became fairies they would do the same. and once they were thought of as dead kings, any notable tumuli would be pointed out as theirs, since it is a law in folk-belief to associate tumuli or other structures not with the dead or with their builders, but with supernatural or mythical or even historical personages. if _síde_ ever meant "ghosts," it would be easy to call the dead gods by this name, and to connect them with the places of the dead.[ ] many strands went to the weaving of the later conception of the gods, but there still hung around them an air of mystery, and the belief that they were a race of men was never consistent with itself. danu gave her name to the whole group of gods, and is called their mother, like the egyptian neith or the semitic ishtar.[ ] in the annalists she is daughter of dagda, and has three sons. she may be akin to the goddess anu, whom cormac describes as "_mater deorum hibernensium_. it was well she nursed the gods." from her name he derives _ana_, "plenty," and two hills in kerry are called "the paps of anu."[ ] thus as a goddess of plenty danu or anu may have been an early earth-mother, and what may be a dim memory of anu in leicestershire confirms this view. a cave on the dane hills is called "black annis' bower," and she is said to have been a savage woman who devoured human victims.[ ] earth-goddesses usually have human victims, and anu would be no exception. in the cult of earth divinities earth and under-earth are practically identical, while earth-goddesses like demeter and persephone were associated with the underworld, the dead being demeter's folk. the fruits of the earth with their roots below the surface are then gifts of the earth- or under-earth goddess. this may have been the case with danu, for in celtic belief the gifts of civilisation came from the underworld or from the gods. professor rh[^y]s finds the name anu in the dat. _anoniredi_, "chariot of anu," in an inscription from vaucluse, and the identification is perhaps established by the fact that goddesses of fertility were drawn through the fields in a vehicle.[ ] cormac also mentions buanann as mother and nurse of heroes, perhaps a goddess worshipped by heroes.[ ] danu is also identified with brigit, goddess of knowledge (_dán_), perhaps through a folk-etymology. she was worshipped by poets, and had two sisters of the same name connected with leechcraft and smithwork.[ ] they are duplicates or local forms of brigit, a goddess of culture and of poetry, so much loved by the celts. she is thus the equivalent of the gaulish goddess equated with minerva by cæsar, and found on inscriptions as minerva belisama and brigindo. she is the dea brigantia of british inscriptions.[ ] one of the seats of her worship was the land of the brigantes, of whom she was the eponymous goddess, and her name (cf. ir. _brig_, "power" or "craft"; welsh _bri_, "honour," "renown") suggests her high functions. but her popularity is seen in the continuation of her personality and cult in those of s. brigit, at whose shrine in kildare a sacred fire, which must not be breathed on, or approached by a male, was watched daily by nineteen nuns in turn, and on the twentieth day by the saint herself.[ ] similar sacred fires were kept up in other monasteries,[ ] and they point to the old cult of a goddess of fire, the nuns being successors of a virgin priesthood like the vestals, priestesses of vesta. as has been seen, the goddesses belisama and sul, probably goddesses of fire, resembled brigit in this.[ ] but brigit, like vesta, was at once a goddess of fire and of fertility, as her connection with candlemas and certain ritual survivals also suggest. in the hebrides on s. bride's day (candlemas-eve) women dressed a sheaf of oats in female clothes and set it with a club in a basket called "briid's bed." then they called, "briid is come, briid is welcome." or a bed was made of corn and hay with candles burning beside it, and bride was invited to come as her bed was ready. if the mark of the club was seen in the ashes, this was an omen of a good harvest and a prosperous year.[ ] it is also noteworthy that if cattle cropped the grass near s. brigit's shrine, next day it was as luxuriant as ever. brigit, or goddesses with similar functions, was regarded by the celts as an early teacher of civilisation, inspirer of the artistic, poetic, and mechanical faculties, as well as a goddess of fire and fertility. as such she far excelled her sons, gods of knowledge. she must have originated in the period when the celts worshipped goddesses rather than gods, and when knowledge--leechcraft, agriculture, inspiration--were women's rather than men's. she had a female priesthood, and men were perhaps excluded from her cult, as the tabued shrine at kildare suggests. perhaps her fire was fed from sacred oak wood, for many shrines of s. brigit were built under oaks, doubtless displacing pagan shrines of the goddess.[ ] as a goddess, brigit is more prominent than danu, also a goddess of fertility, even though danu is mother of the gods. other goddesses remembered in tradition are cleena and vera, celebrated in fairy and witch lore, the former perhaps akin to a river-goddess clota, the clutoida (a fountain-nymph) of the continental celts; the latter, under her alternative name dirra, perhaps a form of a goddess of gaul, dirona.[ ] aine, one of the great fairy-queens of ireland, has her seat at knockainy in limerick, where rites connected with her former cult are still performed for fertility on midsummer eve. if they were neglected she and her troops performed them, according to local legend.[ ] she is thus an old goddess of fertility, whose cult, even at a festival in which gods were latterly more prominent, is still remembered. she is also associated with the waters as a water-nymph captured for a time as a fairy-bride by the earl of desmond.[ ] but older legends connect her with the _síd_. she was daughter of eogabal, king of the _síd_ of knockainy, the grass on which was annually destroyed at samhain by his people, because it had been taken from them, its rightful owners. oilill olomm and ferchus resolved to watch the _síd_ on samhain-eve. they saw eogabal and aine emerge from it. ferchus killed eogabal, and oilill tried to outrage aine, who bit the flesh from his ear. hence his name of "bare ear."[ ] in this legend we see how earlier gods of fertility come to be regarded as hostile to growth. another story tells of the love of aillén, eogabal's son, for manannan's wife and that of aine for manannan. aine offered her favours to the god if he would give his wife to her brother, and "the complicated bit of romance," as s. patrick calls it, was thus arranged.[ ] although the irish gods are warriors, and there are special war-gods, yet war-goddesses are more prominent, usually as a group of three--morrigan, neman, and macha. a fourth, badb, sometimes takes the place of one of these, or is identical with morrigan, or her name, like that of morrigan, may be generic.[ ] _badb_ means "a scald-crow," under which form the war-goddesses appeared, probably because these birds were seen near the slain. she is also called badbcatha, "battle-badb," and is thus the equivalent of _-athubodua,_ or, more probably, _cathubodua_, mentioned in an inscription from haute-savoie, while this, as well as personal names like _boduogenos_, shows that a goddess bodua was known to the gauls.[ ] the _badb_ or battle-crow is associated with the fomorian tethra, but badb herself is consort of a war-god nét, one of the tuatha dé danann, who may be the equivalent of neton, mentioned in spanish inscriptions and equated with mars. elsewhere neman is nét's consort, and she may be the nemetona of inscriptions, e.g. at bath, the consort of mars. cormac calls nét and neman "a venomous couple," which we may well believe them to have been.[ ] to macha were devoted the heads of slain enemies, "macha's mast," but she, according to the annalists, was slain at mag-tured, though she reappears in the cúchulainn saga as the macha whose ill-treatment led to the "debility" of the ulstermen.[ ] the name morrigan may mean "great queen," though dr. stokes, connecting _mor_ with the same syllable in "fomorian," explains it as "nightmare-queen."[ ] she works great harm to the fomorians at mag-tured, and afterwards proclaims the victory to the hills, rivers, and fairy-hosts, uttering also a prophecy of the evils to come at the end of time.[ ] she reappears prominently in the cúchulainn saga, hostile to the hero because he rejects her love, yet aiding the hosts of ulster and the brown bull, and in the end trying to prevent the hero's death.[ ] the prominent position of these goddesses must be connected with the fact that women went out to war--a custom said to have been stopped by adamnan at his mother's request, and that many prominent heroines of the heroic cycles are warriors, like the british boudicca, whose name may be connected with _boudi_, "victory." specific titles were given to such classes of female warriors--_bangaisgedaig_, _banfeinnidi_, etc.[ ] but it is possible that these goddesses were at first connected with fertility, their functions changing with the growing warlike tendencies of the celts. their number recalls that of the threefold _matres_, and possibly the change in their character is hinted in the romano-british inscription at benwell to the _lamiis tribus_, since morrigan's name is glossed _lamia_.[ ] she is also identified with anu, and is mistress of dagda, an earth-god, and with badb and others expels the fomorians when they destroyed the agricultural produce of ireland.[ ] probably the scald-crow was at once the symbol and the incarnation of the war-goddesses, who resemble the norse valkyries, appearing sometimes as crows, and the greek keres, bird-like beings which drank the blood of the slain. it is also interesting to note that badb, who has the character of a prophetess of evil, is often identified with the "washer at the ford," whose presence indicates death to him whose armour or garments she seems to cleanse.[ ] the _matres_, goddesses of fertility, do not appear by name in ireland, but the triplication of such goddesses as morrigan and brigit, the threefold name of dagda's wife, or the fact that arm, danu, and buanan are called "mothers," while buanan's name is sometimes rendered "good mother," may suggest that such grouped goddesses were not unknown. later legend knows of white women who assist in spinning, or three hags with power over nature, or, as in the _battle of ventry_, of three supernatural women who fall in love with conncrithir, aid him in fight, and heal his wounds. in this document and elsewhere is mentioned the "_síd_ of the white women."[ ] goddesses of fertility are usually goddesses of love, and the prominence given to females among the _síde_, the fact that they are often called _be find_, "white women," like fairies who represent the _matres_ elsewhere, and that they freely offer their love to mortals, may connect them with this group of goddesses. again, when the milesians arrived in ireland, three kings of the tuatha déa had wives called eriu, banba, and fotla, who begged that ireland should be called after them. this was granted, but only eriu (erin) remained in general use.[ ] the story is an ætiological myth explaining the names of ireland, but the three wives may be a group like the _matres_, guardians of the land which took its name from them. brian, iuchar, and iucharba, who give a title to the whole group, are called _tri dee donand_, "the three gods (sons of) danu," or, again, "gods of _dán_" (knowledge), perhaps as the result of a folk-etymology, associating _dân_ with their mother's name danu.[ ] various attributes are personified as their descendants, wisdom being son of all three.[ ] though some of these attributes may have been actual gods, especially ecne or wisdom, yet it is more probable that the personification is the result of the subtleties of bardic science, of which similar examples occur.[ ] on the other hand, the fact that ecne is the son of three brothers, may recall some early practice of polyandry of which instances are met with in the sagas.[ ] m. d'arbois has suggested that iuchar and iucharba are mere duplicates of brian, who usually takes the leading place, and he identifies them with three kings of the tuatha déa reigning at the time of the milesian invasion-- maccuill, maccecht, and macgrainne, so called, according to keating, because the hazel (_coll_), the plough (_cecht_), and the sun (_grian_) were "gods of worship" to them. both groups are grandsons of dagda, and m. d'arbois regards this second group as also triplicates of one god, because their wives fotla, banba, and eriu all bear names of ireland itself, are personifications of the land, and thus may be "reduced to unity."[ ] while this reasoning is ingenious, it should be remembered that we must not lay too much stress upon irish divine genealogies, while each group of three may have been similar local gods associated at a later time as brothers. their separate personality is suggested by the fact that the tuatha dé danann are called after them "the men of the three gods," and their supremacy appears in the incident of dagda, lug, and ogma consulting them before the fight at mag-tured--a natural proceeding if they were gods of knowledge or destiny.[ ] the brothers are said to have slain the god cian, and to have been themselves slain by lug, and on this seems to have been based the story of _the children of tuirenn_, in which they perish through their exertions in obtaining the _eric_ demanded by lug.[ ] here they are sons of tuirenn, but more usually their mother danu or brigit is mentioned. another son of brigit's was ogma, master of poetry and inventor of _ogham_ writing, the word being derived from his name.[ ] it is more probable that ogma's name is a derivative from some word signifying "speech" or "writing," and that the connection with "ogham" may be a mere folk-etymology. ogma appears as the champion of the gods,[ ] a position given him perhaps from the primitive custom of rousing the warriors' emotions by eloquent speeches before a battle. similarly the babylonian marduk, "seer of the gods," was also their champion in fight. ogma fought and died at mag-tured; but in other accounts he survives, captures tethra's sword, goes on the quest for dagda's harp, and is given a _síd_ after the milesian victory. ogma's counterpart in gaul is ogmíos, a herakles and a god of eloquence, thus bearing the dual character of ogma, while ogma's epithet _grianainech_, "of the smiling countenance," recalls lucian's account of the "smiling face" of ogmíos.[ ] ogma's high position is the result of the admiration of bardic eloquence among the celts, whose loquacity was proverbial, and to him its origin was doubtless ascribed, as well as that of poetry. the genealogists explain his relationship to the other divinities in different ways, but these confusions may result from the fact that gods had more than one name, of which the annalists made separate personalities. most usually ogma is called brigit's son. her functions were like his own, but in spite of the increasing supremacy of gods over goddesses, he never really eclipsed her. among other culture gods were those associated with the arts and crafts--the development of celtic art in metal-work necessitating the existence of gods of this art. such a god is goibniu, eponymous god of smiths (old ir. _goba_, "smith"), and the divine craftsman at the battle of mag-tured, making spears which never failed to kill.[ ] smiths have everywhere been regarded as uncanny--a tradition surviving from the first introduction of metal among those hitherto accustomed to stone weapons and tools. s. patrick prayed against the "spells of women, smiths, and druids," and it is thus not surprising to find that goibniu had a reputation for magic, even among christians. a spell for making butter, in an eighth century ms. preserved at s. gall, appeals to his "science."[ ] curiously enough, goibniu is also connected with the culinary art in myth, and, like hephaistos, prepares the feast of the gods, while his ale preserves their immortality.[ ] the elation produced by heady liquors caused them to be regarded as draughts of immortality, like soma, haoma, or nectar. goibniu survives in tradition as the _gobhan saer_, to whom the building of round towers is ascribed. another god of crafts was creidne the brazier (ir. _cerd_, "artificer"; cf. scots _caird_, "tinker"), who assisted in making a silver hand for nuada, and supplied with magical rapidity parts of the weapons used at mag-tured.[ ] according to the annalists, he was drowned while bringing golden ore from spain.[ ] luchtine, god of carpenters, provided spear-handles for the battle, and with marvellous skill flung them into the sockets of the spear-heads.[ ] diancecht, whose name may mean "swift in power," was god of medicine, and, with creidne's help, fashioned a silver hand for nuada.[ ] his son miach replaced this by a magic restoration of the real hand, and in jealousy his father slew him--a version of the _märchen_ formula of the jealous master. three hundred and sixty-five herbs grew from his grave, and were arranged according to their properties by his sister airmed, but diancecht again confused them, "so that no one knows their proper cures."[ ] at the second battle of mag-tured, diancecht presided over a healing-well containing magic herbs. these and the power of spells caused the mortally wounded who were placed in it to recover. hence it was called "the spring of health."[ ] diancecht, associated with a healing-well, may be cognate with grannos. he is also referred to in the s. gall ms., where his healing powers are extolled. an early chief of the gods is dagda, who, in the story of the battle of mag-tured, is said to be so called because he promised to do more than all the other gods together. hence they said, "it is thou art the _good hand_" (_dag-dae_). the _cóir anmann_ explains _dagda_ as "fire of god" (_daig_ and _déa_). the true derivation is from _dagos_, "good," and _deivos_, "god," though dr. stokes considers _dagda_ as connected with _dagh_, whence _daghda_, "cunning."[ ] dagda is also called cera, a word perhaps derived from _kar_ and connected with lat. _cerus_, "creator" and other names of his are _ruad-rofhessa_, "lord of great knowledge," and _eochaid ollathair_, "great father," "for a great father to the tuatha dé danann was he."[ ] he is also called "a beautiful god," and "the principal god of the pagans."[ ] after the battle he divides the _brugs_ or _síd_ among the gods, but his son oengus, having been omitted, by a stratagem succeeded in ousting his father from his _síd_, over which he now himself reigned[ ]--possibly the survival of an old myth telling of a superseding of dagda's cult by that of oengus, a common enough occurrence in all religions. in another version, dagda being dead, bodb dearg divides the _síd_, and manannan makes the tuatha déa invisible and immortal. he also helps oengus to drive out his foster-father elemar from his _brug_, where oengus now lives as a god.[ ] the underground _brugs_ are the gods' land, in all respects resembling the oversea elysium, and at once burial-places of the euhemerised gods and local forms of the divine land. professor rh[^y]s regards dagda as an atmospheric god; dr. macbain sees in him a sky-god. more probably he is an early earth-god and a god of agriculture. he has power over corn and milk, and agrees to prevent the other gods from destroying these after their defeat by the milesians--former beneficent gods being regarded as hurtful, a not uncommon result of the triumph of a new faith.[ ] dagda is called "the god of the earth" "because of the greatness of his power."[ ] mythical objects associated with him suggest plenty and fertility--his cauldron which satisfied all comers, his unfailing swine, one always living, the other ready for cooking, a vessel of ale, and three trees always laden with fruit. these were in his _síd_, where none ever tasted death;[ ] hence his _síd_ was a local elysium, not a gloomy land of death, but the underworld in its primitive aspect as the place of gods of fertility. in some myths he appears with a huge club or fork, and m. d'arbois suggests that he may thus be an equivalent of the gaulish god with the mallet.[ ] this is probable, since the gaulish god may have been a form of dispater, an earth or under-earth god of fertility. if dagda was a god of fertility, he may have been an equivalent of a god whose image was called _cenn_ or _cromm cruaich_, "head _or_ crooked one of the mound," or "bloody head _or_ crescent."[ ] vallancey, citing a text now lost, says that _crom-eocha_ was a name of dagda, and that a motto at the sacrificial place at tara read, "let the altar ever blaze to dagda."[ ] these statements may support this identification. the cult of cromm is preserved in some verses: "he was their god, the withered cromm with many mists... to him without glory they would kill their piteous wretched offspring, with much wailing and peril, to pour their blood around cromm cruaich. milk and corn they would ask from him speedily in return for a third of their healthy issue, great was the horror and fear of him. to him noble gaels would prostrate themselves."[ ] elsewhere we learn that this sacrifice in return for the gifts of corn and milk from the god took place at samhain, and that on one occasion the violent prostrations of the worshippers caused three-fourths of them to die. again, "they beat their palms, they pounded their bodies ... they shed falling showers of tears."[ ] these are reminiscences of orgiastic rites in which pain and pleasure melt into one. the god must have been a god of fertility; the blood of the victims was poured on the image, the flesh, as in analogous savage rites and folk-survivals, may have been buried in the fields to promote fertility. if so, the victims' flesh was instinct with the power of the divinity, and, though their number is obviously exaggerated, several victims may have taken the place of an earlier slain representative of the god. a mythic _crom dubh_, "black crom," whose festival occurs on the first sunday in august, may be another form of cromm cruaich. in one story the name is transferred to s. patrick's servant, who is asked by the fairies when they will go to paradise. "not till the day of judgment," is the answer, and for this they cease to help men in the processes of agriculture. but in a variant manannan bids crom ask this question, and the same result follows.[ ] these tales thus enshrine the idea that crom and the fairies were ancient gods of growth who ceased to help men when they deserted them for the christian faith. if the sacrifice was offered at the august festival, or, as the texts suggest, at samhain, after harvest, it must have been on account of the next year's crop, and the flesh may have been mingled with the seed corn. dagda may thus have been a god of growth and fertility. his wife or mistress was the river-goddess, boand (the boyne),[ ] and the children ascribed to him were oengus, bodb dearg, danu, brigit, and perhaps ogma. the euhemerists made him die of cethlenn's venom, long after the battle of mag-tured in which he encountered her.[ ] irish mythology is remarkably free from obscene and grotesque myths, but some of these cluster round dagda. we hear of the gargantuan meal provided for him in sport by the fomorians, and of which he ate so much that "not easy was it for him to move and unseemly was his apparel," as well as his conduct with a fomorian beauty. another amour of his was with morrigan, the place where it occurred being still known as "the couple's bed."[ ] in another tale dagda acts as cook to conaire the great.[ ] the beautiful and fascinating oengus is sometimes called _mac ind oc_, "son of the young ones," i.e. dagda and boand, or _in mac oc_, "the young son." this name, like the myth of his disinheriting his father, may point to his cult superseding that of dagda. if so, he may then have been affiliated to the older god, as was frequently done in parallel cases, e.g. in babylon. oengus may thus have been the high god of some tribe who assumed supremacy, ousting the high god of another tribe, unless we suppose that dagda was a pre-celtic god with functions similar to those of oengus, and that the celts adopted his cult but gave that of oengus a higher place. in one myth the supremacy of oengus is seen. after the first battle of mag-tured, dagda is forced to become the slave of bres, and is much annoyed by a lampooner who extorts the best pieces of his rations. following the advice of oengus, he not only causes the lampooner's death, but triumphs over the fomorians.[ ] on insufficient grounds, mainly because he was patron of diarmaid, beloved of women, and because his kisses became birds which whispered love thoughts to youths and maidens, oengus has been called the eros of the gaels. more probably he was primarily a supreme god of growth, who occasionally suffered eclipse during the time of death in nature, like tammuz and adonis, and this may explain his absence from mag-tured. the beautiful story of his vision of a maiden with whom he fell violently in love contains too many _märchen_ formulæ to be of any mythological or religious value. his mother boand caused search to be made for her, but without avail. at last she was discovered to be the daughter of a semi-divine lord of a _síd_, but only through the help of mortals was the secret of how she could be taken wrung from him. she was a swan-maiden, and on a certain day only would oengus obtain her. ultimately she became his wife. the story is interesting because it shows how the gods occasionally required mortal aid.[ ] equally influenced by _märchen_ formulæ is the story of oengus and etain. etain and fuamnach were wives of mider, but fuamnach was jealous of etain, and transformed her into an insect. in this shape oengus found her, and placed her in a glass _grianan_ or bower filled with flowers, the perfume of which sustained her. he carried the _grianan_ with him wherever he went, but fuamnach raised a magic wind which blew etain away to the roof of etair, a noble of ulster. she fell through a smoke-hole into a golden cup of wine, and was swallowed by etair's wife, of whom she was reborn.[ ] professor rh[^y]s resolves all this into a sun and dawn myth. oengus is the sun, etain the dawn, the _grianan_ the expanse of the sky.[ ] but the dawn does not grow stronger with the sun's influence, as etain did under that of oengus. at the sun's appearance the dawn begins "to faint in the light of the sun she loves, to faint in his light and to die." the whole story is built up on the well-known _mãrchen_ formulæ of the "true bride" and the "two brothers," but accommodated to well-known mythic personages, and the _grianan_ is the celtic equivalent of various objects in stories of the "cinderella" type, in which the heroine conceals herself, the object being bought by the hero and kept in his room.[ ] thus the tale reveals nothing of etain's divine functions, but it illustrates the method of the "mythological" school in discovering sun-heroes and dawn-maidens in any incident, mythical or not. oengus appears in the fionn cycle as the fosterer and protector of diarmaid.[ ] with mider, bodb, and morrigan, he expels the fomorians when they destroy the corn, fruit, and milk of the tuatha dé danann.[ ] this may point to his functions as a god of fertility. although mider appears mainly as a king of the _síde_ and ruler of the _brug_ of bri léith, he is also connected with the tuatha déa.[ ] learning that etain had been reborn and was now married to king eochaid, he recovered her from him, but lost her again when eochaid attacked his _brug_. he was ultimately avenged in the series of tragic events which led to the death of eochaid's descendant conaire. though his _síd_ is located in ireland, it has so much resemblance to elysium that mider must be regarded as one of its lords. hence he appears as ruler of the isle of falga, i.e. the isle of man regarded as elysium. thence his daughter bláthnat, his magical cows and cauldron, were stolen by cúchulainn and curoi, and his three cranes from bri léith by aitherne[ ]--perhaps distorted versions of the myths which told how various animals and gifts came from the god's land. mider may be the irish equivalent of a local gaulish god, medros, depicted on bas-reliefs with a cow or bull.[ ] the victory of the tuatha déa at the first battle of mag-tured, in june, their victory followed, however, by the deaths of many of them at the second battle in november, may point to old myths dramatising the phenomena of nature, and connected with the ritual of summer and winter festivals. the powers of light and growth are in the ascendant in summer; they seem to die in winter. christian euhemerists made use of these myths, but regarded the gods as warriors who were slain, not as those who die and revive again. at the second battle, nuada loses his life; at the first, though his forces are victorious, his hand was cut off by the fomorian sreng, for even when victorious the gods must suffer. a silver hand was made for him by diancecht, and hence he was called nuada _argetlám_, "of the silver hand." professor rh[^y]s regards him as a celtic zeus, partly because he is king of the tuatha dé danann, partly because he, like zeus or tyr, who lost tendons or a hand through the wiles of evil gods, is also maimed.[ ] similarly in the _rig-veda_ the açvins substitute a leg of iron for the leg of vispala, cut off in battle, and the sun is called "golden-handed" because savitri cut off his hand and the priests replaced it by one of gold. the myth of nuada's hand may have arisen from primitive attempts at replacing lopped-off limbs, as well as from the fact that no irish king must have any bodily defect, or possibly because an image of nuada may have lacked a hand or possessed one of silver. images were often maimed or given artificial limbs, and myths then arose to explain the custom.[ ] nuada appears to be a god of life and growth, but he is not a sun-god. his welsh equivalent is llûd llawereint, or "silver-handed," who delivers his people from various scourges. his daughter creidylad is to be wedded to gwythur, but is kidnapped by gwyn. arthur decides that they must fight for her yearly on st may until the day of judgment, when the victor would gain her hand.[ ] professor rh[^y]s regards creidylad as a persephone, wedded alternately to light and dark divinities.[ ] but the story may rather be explanatory of such ritual acts as are found in folk-survivals in the form of fights between summer and winter, in which a queen of may figures, and intended to assist the conflict of the gods of growth with those of blight.[ ] creidylad is daughter of a probable god of growth, nor is it impossible that the story of the battle of mag-tured is based on mythic explanations of such ritual combats. the brythons worshipped nuada as nodons in romano-british times. the remains of his temple exist near the mouth of the severn, and the god may have been equated with mars, though certain symbols seem to connect him with the waters as a kind of neptune.[ ] an irish mythic poet nuada necht may be the nechtan who owned a magic well whence issued the boyne, and was perhaps a water-god. if such a water-god was associated with nuada, he and nodons might be a celtic neptune.[ ] but the relationship and functions of these various personages are obscure, nor is it certain that nodons was equated with neptune or that nuada was a water-god. his name may be cognate with words meaning "growth," "possession," "harvest," and this supports the view taken here of his functions.[ ] the welsh nudd hael, or "the generous," who possessed a herd of , milch kine, may be a memory of this god, and it is possible that, as a god of growth, nuada had human incarnations called by his name.[ ] ler, whose name means "sea," and who was a god of the sea, is father of manannan as well as of the personages of the beautiful story called _the children of lir_, from which we learn practically all that is known of him. he resented not being made ruler of the tuatha déa, but was later reconciled when the daughter of bodb dearg was given to him as his wife. on her death, he married her sister, who transformed her step-children into swans.[ ] ler is the equivalent of the brythonic llyr, later immortalised by shakespeare as king lear. the greatness of manannan mac lir, "son of the sea," is proved by the fact that he appears in many of the heroic tales, and is still remembered in tradition and folk-tale. he is a sea-god who has become more prominent than the older god of the sea, and though not a supreme god, he must have had a far-spreading cult. with bodb dearg he was elected king of the tuatha dé danann. he made the gods invisible and immortal, gave them magical food, and assisted oengus in driving out elemar from his _síd_. later tradition spoke of four manannans, probably local forms of the god, as is suggested by the fact that the true name of one of them is said to be orbsen, son of allot. another, the son of ler, is described as a renowned trader who dwelt in the isle of man, the best of pilots, weather-wise, and able to transform himself as he pleased. the _cóir anmann_ adds that the britons and the men of erin deemed him god of the sea.[ ] that position is plainly seen in many tales, e.g. in the magnificent passage of _the voyage of bran_, where he suddenly sweeps into sight, riding in a chariot across the waves from the land of promise; or in the tale of _cúchulainn's sickness_, where his wife fand sees him, "the horseman of the crested sea," coming across the waves. in the _agallamh na senorach_ he appears as a cavalier breasting the waves. "for the space of nine waves he would be submerged in the sea, but would rise on the crest of the tenth without wetting chest or breast."[ ] in one archaic tale he is identified with a great sea wave which swept away tuag, while the waves are sometimes called "the son of lir's horses"--a name still current in ireland, or, again, "the locks of manannan's wife."[ ] his position as god of the sea may have given rise to the belief that he was ruler of the oversea elysium, and, later, of the other-world as a magical domain coterminous with this earth. he is still remembered in the isle of man, which may owe its name to him, and which, like many another island, was regarded by the goidels as the island elysium under its name of isle of falga. he is also the manawyddan of welsh story. manannan appears in the cúchulainn and fionn cycles, usually as a ruler of the other-world. his wife fand was cúchulainn's mistress, diarmaid was his pupil in fairyland, and cormac was his guest there. even in christian times surviving pagan beliefs caused legend to be busy with his name. king fiachna was fighting the scots and in great danger, when a stranger appeared to his wife and announced that he would save her husband's life if she would consent to abandon herself to him. she reluctantly agreed, and the child of the _amour_ was the seventh-century king mongan, of whom the annalist says, "every one knows that his real father was manannan."[ ] mongan was also believed to be a rebirth of fionn. manannan is still remembered in folk-tradition, and in the isle of man, where his grave is to be seen, some of his ritual survived until lately, bundles of rushes being placed for him on midsummer eve on two hills.[ ] barintus, who steers arthur to the fortunate isles, and s. barri, who crossed the sea on horseback, may have been legendary forms of a local sea-god akin to manannan, or of manannan himself.[ ] his steed was enbarr, "water foam _or_ hair," and manannan was "the horseman of the manéd sea." "barintus," perhaps connected with _barr find_, "white-topped," would thus be a surname of the god who rode on enbarr, the foaming wave, or who was himself the wave, while his mythic sea-riding was transferred to the legend of s. barri, if such a person ever existed. various magical possessions were ascribed to manannan--his armour and sword, the one making the wearer invulnerable, the other terrifying all who beheld it; his horse and canoe; his swine, which came to life again when killed; his magic cloak; his cup which broke when a lie was spoken; his tablecloth, which, when waved, produced food. many of these are found everywhere in _märchen_, and there is nothing peculiarly celtic in them. we need not, therefore, with the mythologists, see in his armour the vapoury clouds or in his sword lightning or the sun's rays. but their magical nature as well as the fact that so much wizardry is attributed to manannan, points to a copious mythology clustering round the god, now for ever lost. the parentage of lug is differently stated, but that account which makes him son of cian and of ethne, daughter of balor, is best attested.[ ] folk-tradition still recalls the relation of lug and balor. balor, a robber living in tory island, had a daughter whose son was to kill her father. he therefore shut her up in an inaccessible place, but in revenge for balor's stealing macineely's cow, the latter gained access to her, with the result that ethne bore three sons, whom balor cast into the sea. one of them, lug, was recovered by macineely and fostered by his brother gavida. balor now slew macineely, but was himself slain by lug, who pierced his single eye with a red-hot iron.[ ] in another version, kian takes macineely's place and is aided by manannan, in accordance with older legends.[ ] but lug's birth-story has been influenced in these tales by the _märchen_ formula of the girl hidden away because it has been foretold that she will have a son who will slay her father. lug is associated with manannan, from whose land he comes to assist the tuatha déa against the fomorians. his appearance was that of the sun, and by this brilliant warrior's prowess the hosts were utterly defeated.[ ] this version, found in _the children of tuirenn_, differs from the account in the story of mag-tured. here lug arrives at the gates of tara and offers his services as a craftsman. each offer is refused, until he proclaims himself "the man of each and every art," or _samildánach_, "possessing many arts." nuada resigns his throne to him for thirteen days, and lug passes in review the various craftsmen (i.e. the gods), and though they try to prevent such a marvellous person risking himself in fight, he escapes, heads the warriors, and sings his war-song. balor, the evil-eyed, he slays with a sling-stone, and his death decided the day against the fomorians. in this account lug _samildánach_ is a patron of the divine patrons of crafts; in other words, he is superior to a whole group of gods. he was also inventor of draughts, ball-play, and horsemanship. but, as m. d'arbois shows, _samildánach_ is the equivalent of "inventor of all arts," applied by cæsar to the gallo-roman mercury, who is thus an equivalent of lug.[ ] this is attested on other grounds. as lug's name appears in irish louth (_lug-magh_) and in british lugu-vallum, near hadrian's wall, so in gaul the names lugudunum (lyons), lugudiacus, and lugselva ("devoted to lugus") show that a god lugus was worshipped there. a gaulish feast of lugus in august--the month of lug's festival in ireland--was perhaps superseded by one in honour of augustus. no dedication to lugus has yet been found, but images of and inscriptions to mercury abound at lugudunum convenarum.[ ] as there were three brigits, so there may have been several forms of lugus, and two dedications to the _lugoves_ have been found in spain and switzerland, one of them inscribed by the shoemakers of uxama.[ ] thus the lugoves may have been multiplied forms of lugus or _lugovos_, "a hero," the meaning given to "lug" by o'davoren.[ ] shoe-making was not one of the arts professed by lug, but professor rh[^y]s recalls the fact that the welsh lleu, whom he equates with lug, disguised himself as a shoemaker.[ ] lugus, besides being a mighty hero, was a great celtic culture-god, superior to all other culture divinities. the euhemerists assigned a definite date to lug's death, but side by side with this the memory of his divinity prevailed, and he appears as the father and helper of cúchulainn, who was possibly a rebirth of the god.[ ] his high position appears in the fact that the gaulish assembly at lugudunum was held in his honour, like the festival of lugnasad in ireland. craftsmen brought their wares to sell at this festival of the god of crafts, while it may also have been a harvest festival.[ ] whether it was a strictly solar feast is doubtful, though professor rh[^y]s and others insist that lug is a sun-god. the name of the welsh lleu, "light," is equated with lug, and the same meaning assigned to the latter.[ ] this equation has been contested and is doubtful, lugus probably meaning "hero."[ ] still the sun-like traits ascribed to lug before mag-tured suggest that he was a sun-god, and solar gods elsewhere, e.g. the polynesian maui, are culture-gods as well. but it should be remembered that lug is not associated with the true solar festivals of beltane and midsummer. while our knowledge of the tuatha dé danann is based upon a series of mythic tales and other records, that of the gods of the continental celts, apart from a few notices in classical authors and elsewhere, comes from inscriptions. but as far as can be judged, though the names of the two groups seldom coincide, their functions must have been much alike, and their origins certainly the same. the tuatha dé danann were nature divinities of growth, light, agriculture--their symbols and possessions suggesting fertility, e.g. the cauldron. they were divinities of culture and crafts, and of war. there must have been many other gods in ireland than those described here, while some of those may not have been worshipped all over ireland. generally speaking, there were many local gods in gaul with similar functions but different names, and this may have been true of ireland. perhaps the different names given to dagda, manannan, and others were simply names of similar local gods, one of whom became prominent, and attracted to himself the names of the others. so, too, the identity of danu and brigit might be explained, or the fact that there were three brigits. we read also in the texts of the god of connaught, or of ulster, and these were apparently regional divinities, or of "the god of druidism"--perhaps a god worshipped specially by druids.[ ] the remote origin of some of these divinities may be sought in the primitive cult of the earth personified as a fertile being, and in that of vegetation and corn-spirits, and the vague spirits of nature in all its aspects. some of these still continued to be worshipped when the greater gods had been evolved. though animal worship was not lacking in ireland, divinities who are anthropomorphic forms of earlier animal-gods are less in evidence than on the continent. the divinities of culture, crafts, and war, and of departments of nature, must have slowly assumed the definite personality assigned them in irish religion. but, doubtless, they already possessed that before the goidels reached ireland. strictly speaking, the underground domain assigned later to the tuatha dé danann belongs only to such of them as were associated with fertility. but in course of time most of the group, as underground dwellers, were connected with growth and increase. these could be blighted by their enemies, or they themselves could withhold them when their worshippers offended them.[ ] irish mythology points to the early pre-eminence of goddesses. as agriculture and many of the arts were first in the hands of women, goddesses of fertility and culture preceded gods, and still held their place when gods were evolved. even war-goddesses are prominent in ireland. celtic gods and heroes are often called after their mothers, not their fathers, and women loom largely in the tales of irish colonisation, while in many legends they play a most important part. goddesses give their name to divine groups, and, even where gods are prominent, their actions are free, their personalities still clearly defined. the supremacy of the divine women of irish tradition is once more seen in the fact that they themselves woo and win heroes; while their capacity for love, their passion, their eternal youthfulness and beauty are suggestive of their early character as goddesses of ever-springing fertility.[ ] this supremacy of goddesses is explained by professor rh[^y]s as non-celtic, as borrowed by the celts from the aborigines.[ ] but it is too deeply impressed on the fabric of celtic tradition to be other than native, and we have no reason to suppose that the celts had not passed through a stage in which such a state of things was normal. their innate conservatism caused them to preserve it more than other races who had long outgrown such a state of things. footnotes: [ ] _hl_ ; stokes, _rc_ xii. . d'arbois, ii. , explains it as "folk of the god whose mother is called danu." [ ] _rc_ xii. . the usual irish word for "god" is _dia_; other names are _fiadu_, _art_, _dess_. [ ] see joyce, _sii_. i. , ; _pn_ i. . [ ] _ll_ _b_. [ ] _ll_ . [ ] _ll_ . the mounds were the sepulchres of the euhemerised gods. [ ] _book of fermoy_, fifteenth century. [ ] _ll_ _b_. [ ] _it_ i. , ; stokes, _tl_ i. , , . _síd_ is a fairy hill, the hill itself or the dwelling within it. hence those who dwell in it are _aes_ or _fir síde_, "men of the mound," or _síde_, fairy folk. the primitive form is probably _sêdos_, from _sêd_, "abode" or "seat"; cf. greek [greek: edos] "a temple." thurneysen suggests a connection with a word equivalent to lat. _sidus_, "constellation," or "dwelling of the gods." [ ] joyce, _sh_ i. ; o'curry, _ms. mat._ . [ ] "vision of oengus," _rc_ iii. ; _it_ i. f. [ ] windisch, _ir. gram._ ; o'curry, _mc_ ii. ; see p. , _infra_. [ ] windisch, _ir. gram._ , § ; _it_ iii. ; _rc_ xvi. . [ ] shore, _jai_ xx. . [ ] rh[^y]s, _hl_ f. _pennocrucium_ occurs in the _itinerary_ of antoninus. [ ] keating, . [ ] joyce, _sh_ i. . [ ] see p. . in scandinavia the dead were called elves, and lived feasting in their barrows or in hills. these became the seat of ancestral cults. the word "elf" also means any divine spirit, later a fairy. "elf" and _síde_ may thus, like the "elf-howe" and the _síd_ or mound, have a parallel history. see vigfusson-powell, _corpus poet. boreale_, i. f. [ ] tuan maccairill (_lu_ ) calls the tuatha déa, "dée ocus andée," and gives the meaning as "poets and husbandmen." this phrase, with the same meaning, is used in "cóir anmann" (_it_ iii. ), but there we find that it occurred in a pagan formula of blessing--"the blessing of gods and not-gods be on thee." but the writer goes on to say--"these were their gods, the magicians, and their non-gods, the husbandmen." this may refer to the position of priest-kings and magicians as gods. rh[^y]s compares sanskrit _deva_ and _adeva_ (_hl_ ). cf. the phrase in a welsh poem (skene, i. ), "teulu oeth et anoeth," translated by rh[^y]s as "household of power and not-power" (_cfl_ ii. ), but the meaning is obscure. see loth, i. . [ ] _ll_ _b_. [ ] cormac, . stokes (_us_ ) derives anu from _(p)an_, "to nourish"; cf. lat. _panis_. [ ] _leicester county folk-lore_, . the _cóir anmann_ says that anu was worshipped as a goddess of plenty (_it_ iii. ). [ ] rh[^y]s, _trans. rd inter. cong. hist. of rel._ ii. . see grimm, _teut. myth._ ff., and p. , _infra_. [ ] rh[^y]s, _ibid._ ii. . he finds her name in the place-name _bononia_ and its derivatives. [ ] cormac, . [ ] cæsar, vi. ; holder, _s.v._; stokes, _tig_ . [ ] girald. cambr. _top. hib._ ii. f. vengeance followed upon rash intrusion. for the breath tabu see frazer, _early hist. of the kingship_, . [ ] joyce, _sh_ i. . [ ] p. , _supra_. [ ] martin, ; campbell, _witchcraft_, . [ ] frazer, _op. cit._ . [ ] joyce, _pn_ i. ; o'grady, ii. ; wood-martin, i. ; see p. , _supra_. [ ] fitzgerald, _rc_ iv. . aine has no connection with anu, nor is she a moon-goddess, as is sometimes supposed. [ ] _rc_ iv. . [ ] keating, ; _it_ iii. ; _rc_ xiii. . [ ] o'grady, ii. . [ ] _rc_ xii. , xxii. ; cormac, ; stokes, _tig_ xxxiii. [ ] holder, i. ; _cil_ vii. ; cæsar, ii. . [ ] _ll_ _b_; cormac, s.v. _neit_; _rc_ iv. ; _arch. rev._ i. ; holder, ii. , . [ ] stokes, _tig, ll_ _a_. [ ] rh[^y]s, _hl_ ; stokes, _rc_ xii. . [ ] _rc_ xii. , . [ ] see p. . [ ] petrie, _tara_, ; stokes, _us_ ; meyer, _cath finntrága_, oxford, , f.; _rc_ xvi. , , xxi. . [ ] _cil_ vii. ; stokes, _us_ . [ ] _rc_ i. , xii. . [ ] _rc_ xxi. , ; miss hull, . a _baobh_ (a common gaelic name for "witch") appears to oscar and prophesies his death in a fionn ballad (campbell, _the fians_, ). in brittany the "night-washers," once water-fairies, are now regarded as _revenants_ (le braz, i. ). [ ] joyce, _sh_ i. ; miss hull, ; meyer, _cath finntraga_, , ; _it_ i. , . [ ] _ll_ _a_. [ ] _ll_ _a_, _b_, _c_. [ ] _rc_ xxvi. ; _ll_ _c_. [ ] cf. the personification of the three strains of dagda's harp (leahy, ii. ). [ ] see p. , _infra_. [ ] d'arbois, ii. . [ ] _rc_ xii. , . [ ] _ll_ ; _atlantis_, london, - , iv. . [ ] o'donovan, _grammar_, dublin, , xlvii. [ ] _rc_ xii. . [ ] lucian, _herakles_. [ ] _rc_ xii. . the name is found in gaulish gobannicnos, and in welsh abergavenny. [ ] _it_ i. ; zimmer, _glossæ hibernicæ_, , . [ ] _atlantis_, , iii. . [ ] _rc_ xii. . [ ] _ll_ ll_a_. [ ] _rc_ xii. . [ ] connac, , and _cóir anmann_ (_it_ iii. ) divide the name as _día-na-cecht_ and explain it as "god of the powers." [ ] _rc_ xii. . for similar stories of plants springing from graves, see my _childhood of fiction_, . [ ] _rc_ xii, , . [ ] _rc_ vi. ; cormac, . [ ] cormac, , ; _it_ iii. , . [ ] _it_ iii. ; d'arbois, i. . [ ] _ll_ _a_. [ ] _irish mss. series_, i. ; d'arbois, ii. . in a ms. edited by dr. stirn, oengus was dagda's son by elemar's wife, the amour taking place in her husband's absence. this incident is a parallel to the birth-stories of mongan and arthur, and has also the fatherless child theme, since oengus goes in tears to mider because he has been taunted with having no father or mother. in the same ms. it is the dagda who instructs oengus how to obtain elemar's _síd_. see _rc_ xxvii. , xxviii. . [ ] _ll_ _b_. [ ] _it_ iii. . [ ] o'donovan, _battle of mag-rath_, dublin, , ; _ll_ _a_. [ ] d'arbois, v. , . [ ] the former is rh[^y]s's interpretation (_hl_ ) connecting _cruaich_ with _crúach_, "a heap"; the latter is that of d'arbois (ii. ), deriving _cruaich_ from _cru_, "blood." the idea of the image being bent or crooked may have been due to the fact that it long stood ready to topple over, as a result of s. patrick's miracle. see p. , _infra_. [ ] vallancey, in _coll. de rebus hib._ , iv. . [ ] _ll_ _b_. d'arbois thinks cromm was a fomorian, the equivalent of taranis (ii. ). but he is worshipped by gaels. _crin_, "withered," probably refers to the idol's position after s. patrick's miracle, no longer upright but bent like an old man. dr. hyde, _lit. hist. of ireland_, , with exaggerated patriotism, thinks the sacrificial details are copied by a christian scribe from the old testament, and are no part of the old ritual. [ ] _rc_ xvi. , . [ ] fitzgerald, _rl_ iv. . [ ] _rc_ xxvi. . [ ] _annals of the four masters_, a.m. . [ ] _rc_ xii. , ; hyde, _op. cit._ . [ ] _lu_ . [ ] _rc_ xii. . elsewhere three supreme "ignorances" are ascribed to oengus (_rl_ xxvi. ). [ ] _rc_ iii. . [ ] _ll_ _c_; _lu_ ; _it_ i. . cf. the glass house, placed between sky and moon, to which tristan conducts the queen. bedier, _tristan et iseut_, . in a fragmentary version of the story oengus is etain's wooer, but mider is preferred by her father, and marries her. in the latter half of the story, oengus does not appear (see p. , _infra_). mr. nutt (_rc_ xxvii. ) suggests that oengus, not mider, was the real hero of the story, but that its christian redactors gave mider his place in the second part. the fragments are edited by stirn (_zcp_ vol. v.). [ ] _hl_ . [ ] see my _childhood of fiction_, , . the tale has some unique features, as it alone among western _märchen_ and saga variants of the "true bride" describes the malicious woman as the wife of mider. in other words, the story implies polygamy, rarely found in european folk-tales. [ ] o'grady, _tos_ iii. [ ] _rc_ i. . [ ] o'curry, _mc_ i. . [ ] _ll_ _a_. see p. , _infra_. [ ] cumont, _rc_ xxvi. ; d'arbois, _rc_ xxvii. , notes the difficulty of explaining the change of _e_ to _i_ in the names. [ ] _hl_ . [ ] see crooke, _folk-lore_, viii. . cf. herod, ii. . [ ] loth, i. . [ ] _hl_ . [ ] train, _isle of man_, douglas, , ii. ; grimm, _teut. myth._ ii. ch. ; frazer, _gb_{ } ii. f. [ ] bathurst, _roman antiquities at lydney park_, ; holder, _s.v._ "nodons." [ ] see rh[^y]s, _hl_ ; cook, _folk-lore_, xvii. . [ ] stokes, _us_ - ; rh[^y]s, _hl_, , _it_ i. . [ ] loth, ii. , . see p. , _infra_. [ ] joyce, _ocr_. [ ] for these four manannans see cormac , _rc_ xxiv. , _it_ iii. . [ ] o'grady, ii. [ ] _bodley dindsenchas_, no. , _rc_ xii. ; joyce, _sh_ i. ; _otia merseiana_, ii. "song of the sea." [ ] _lu_ . [ ] moore, . [ ] geoffrey, _vita merlini_, ; rees, . other saintly legends are derived from myths, e.g. that of s. barri in his boat meeting s. scuithne walking on the sea. scuithne maintains he is walking on a field, and plucks a flower to prove it, while barri confutes him by pulling a salmon out of the sea. this resembles an episode in the meeting of bran and manannan (stokes, _félire_, xxxix.; nutt-meyer, i. ). saints are often said to assist men just as the gods did. columcille and brigit appeared over the hosts of erin assisting and encouraging them _(rc_ xxiv. ). [ ] _rc_ xii. . [ ] _folk-lore journal_, v. ; rh[^y]s, _hl_ . [ ] larminie, "kian, son of kontje." [ ] joyce, _ocr_ . [ ] d'arbois, vi. , _les celtes_, , _rc_ xii. , , , xvi. . is the defaced inscription at geitershof, _deo m ... sam ..._ (holder, ii. ), a dedication to mercury samildánach? an echo of lug's story is found in the life of s. herve, who found a devil in his monastery in the form of a man who said he was a good carpenter, mason, locksmith, etc., but who could not make the sign of the cross. albert le grand, _saints de la bretagne_, , _rc_ vii. . [ ] holder, _s.v._; d'arbois, _les celtes_, , _rc_ vii. . [ ] holder, _s.v._ "lugus." [ ] stokes, _tig_ . gaidoz contests the identification of the lugoves and of lug with mercury, and to him the lugoves are grouped divinities like the _matres_ (_rc_ vi. ). [ ] _hl_ . [ ] see p. , _infra_. [ ] see p. , _infra_. [ ] _hl_ . [ ] see loth, _rc_ x. . [ ] leahy, i. , ii. , , _lu_ _b_. [ ] _ll_ _a_; see p. , _supra_. [ ] see, further, p. , _infra_. [ ] _the welsh people_, . professor rh[^y]s admits that the theory of borrowing "cannot easily be proved." chapter vi. the gods of the brythons our knowledge of the gods of the brythons, i.e. as far as wales is concerned, is derived, apart from inscriptions, from the _mabinogion_, which, though found in a fourteenth century ms., was composed much earlier, and contains elements from a remote past. besides this, the _triads_, probably of twelfth-century origin, the _taliesin_, and other poems, though obscure and artificial, the work of many a "confused bard drivelling" (to cite the words of one of them), preserve echoes of the old mythology.[ ] some of the gods may lurk behind the personages of geoffrey of monmouth's _historia britonum_ and of the arthurian cycle, though here great caution is required. the divinities have become heroes and heroines, kings and princesses, and if some of the episodes are based on ancient myths, they are treated in a romantic spirit. other episodes are mere _märchen_ formulæ. like the wreckage of some rich galleon, the _débris_ of the old mythology has been used to construct a new fabric, and the old divinities have even less of the god-like traits of the personages of the irish texts. some of the personages bear similar names to the irish divinities, and in some cases there is a certain similarity of incidents to those of the irish tales.[ ] are, then, the gods dimly revealed in welsh literature as much goidelic as brythonic? analysing the incidents of the _mabinogion_, professor anwyl has shown that they have an entirely local character, and are mainly associated with the districts of dyfed and gwent, of anglesey, and of gwynedd, of which pryderi, branwen, and gwydion are respectively the heroic characters.[ ] these are the districts where a strong goidelic element prevailed, whether these goidels were the original inhabitants of britain, driven there by brythons,[ ] or tribes who had settled there from ireland,[ ] or perhaps a mixture of both. in any case they had been conquered by brythons and had become brythonic in speech from the fifth century onwards. on account of this goidelic element, it has been claimed that the personages of the _mabinogion_ are purely goidelic. but examination proves that only a few are directly parallel in name with irish divinities, and while here there are fundamental likenesses, the _incidents_ with irish parallels may be due to mere superficial borrowings, to that interchange of _märchen_ and mythical _données_ which has everywhere occurred. many incidents have no irish parallels, and most of the characters are entirely different in name from irish divinities. hence any theory which would account for the likenesses, must also account for the differences, and must explain why, if the _mabinogion_ is due to irish goidels, there should have been few or no borrowings in welsh literature from the popular cúchulainn and ossianic sagas,[ ] and why, at a time when brythonic elements were uppermost, such care should have been taken to preserve goidelic myths. if the tales emanated from native welsh goidels, the explanation might be that they, the kindred of the irish goidels, must have had a certain community with them in divine names and myths, while others of their gods, more local in character, would differ in name. or if they are brythonic, the likenesses might be accounted for by an early community in myth and cult among the common ancestors of brythons and goidels.[ ] but as the date of the composition of the _mabinogion_ is comparatively late, at a time when brythons had overrun these goidelic districts, more probably the tales contain a mingling of goidelic (irish or welsh) and brythonic divinities, though some of these may be survivals of the common celtic heritage.[ ] celtic divinities were mainly of a local, tribal character. hence some would be local goidelic divinities, others, classed with these, local brythonic divinities. this would explain the absence of divinities and heroes of other local brythonic groups, e.g. arthur, from the _mabinogion_. but with the growing importance of these, they attracted to their legend the folk of the _mabinogion_ and other tales. these are associated with arthur in _kulhwych_, and the dôn group mingles with that of taliesin in the _taliesin_ poems.[ ] hence welsh literature, as far as concerns the old religion, may be regarded as including both local goidelic and brythonic divinities, of whom the more purely brythonic are arthur, gwynn, taliesin, etc.[ ] they are regarded as kings and queens, or as fairies, or they have magical powers. they are mortal and die, and the place of their burial is pointed out, or existing tumuli are associated with them, all this is parallel to the history of the tuatha dé danann, and shows how the same process of degradation had been at work in wales as in ireland. the story of the llyr group is told in the _mabinogion_ of branwen and of manawyddan. they are associated with the pwyll group, and apparently opposed to that of dôn. branwen is married to matholwych, king of ireland, but is ill-treated by him on account of the insults of the mischievous evnissyen, in spite of the fact that bran had atoned for the insult by many gifts, including that of a cauldron of regeneration. now he crosses with an army to ireland, where evnissyen throws branwen's child, to whom the kingdom is given, on the fire. a fight ensues; the dead irish warriors are resuscitated in the cauldron, but evnissyen, at the cost of his life, destroys it. bran is slain, and by his directions his head is cut off and carried first to harlech, then to gwales, where it will entertain its bearers for eighty years. at the end of that time it is to be taken to london and buried. branwen, departing with the bearers, dies of a broken heart at anglesey, and meanwhile caswallyn, son of beli, seizes the kingdom.[ ] two of the bearers of the head are manawyddan and pryderi, whose fortunes we follow in the _mabinogi_ of the former. pryderi gives his mother rhiannon to manawyddan as his wife, along with some land which by magic art is made barren. after following different crafts, they are led by a boar to a strange castle, where rhiannon and pryderi disappear along with the building. manawyddan, with pryderi's wife kieva, set out as shoemakers, but are forced to abandon this craft on account of the envy of the craftsmen. finally, we learn how manawyddan overcame the enchanter llwyt, who, because of an insult offered by pryderi's father to his friend gwawl, had made rhiannon and pryderi disappear. they are now restored, and llwyt seeks no further revenge. the story of branwen is similar to a tale of which there are variants in teutonic and scandinavian sagas, but the resemblance is closer to the latter.[ ] possibly a similar story with their respective divinities or heroes for its characters existed among celts, teutons, and norsemen, but more likely it was borrowed from norsemen who occupied both sides of the irish sea in the ninth and tenth century, and then naturalised by furnishing it with celtic characters. but into this framework many native elements were set, and we may therefore scrutinise the story for celtic mythical elements utilised by its redactor, who probably did not strip its celtic personages of their earlier divine attributes. in the two _mabinogi_ these personages are llyr, his sons bran and manawyddan, his daughter branwen, their half-brothers nissyen and evnissyen, sons of llyr's wife penardim, daughter of beli, by a previous marriage with eurosswyd. llyr is the equivalent of the irish ler, the sea-god, but two other llyrs, probably duplicates of himself, are known to welsh story--llyr marini, and the llyr, father of cordelia, of the chroniclers.[ ] he is constantly confused with lludd llawereint, e.g. both are described as one of three notable prisoners of britain, and both are called fathers of cordelia or creiddylad.[ ] perhaps the two were once identical, for manannan is sometimes called son of alloid (= lludd), in irish texts, as well as son of ler.[ ] but the confusion may be accidental, nor is it certain that nodons or lludd was a sea-god. llyr's prison was that of eurosswyd,[ ] whose wife he may have abducted and hence suffered imprisonment. in the _black book of caermarthen_ bran is called son of y werydd or "ocean," according to m. loth's interpretation of the name, which would thus point to llyr's position as a sea-god. but this is contested by professor rh[^y]s who makes ywerit wife of llyr, the name being in his view a form of the welsh word for ireland. in geoffrey and the chroniclers llyr becomes a king of britain whose history and that of his daughters was immortalised by shakespeare. geoffrey also refers to llyr's burial in a vault built in honour of janus.[ ] on this professor rh[^y]s builds a theory that llyr was a form of the celtic dis with two faces and ruler of a world of darkness.[ ] but there is no evidence that the celtic dispater was lord of a gloomy underworld, and it is best to regard llyr as a sea-divinity. manawyddan is not god-like in these tales in the sense in which the majestic manannan of irish story is, though elsewhere we learn that "deep was his counsel."[ ] though not a magician, he baffles one of the great wizards of welsh story, and he is also a master craftsman, who instructs pryderi in the arts of shoe-making, shield-making, and saddlery. in this he is akin to manannan, the teacher of diarmaid. incidents of his career are reflected in the _triads_, and his union with rhiannon may point to an old myth in which they were from the first a divine pair, parents of pryderi. this would give point to his deliverance of pryderi and rhiannon from the hostile magician.[ ] rhiannon resembles the irish elysium goddesses, and manawyddan, like manannan, is lord of elysium in a _taliesin_ poem.[ ] he is a craftsman and follows agriculture, perhaps a reminiscence of the old belief that fertility and culture come from the god's land. manawyddan, like other divinities, was drawn into the arthurian cycle, and is one of those who capture the famous boar, the _twrch trwyth_.[ ] bran, or bendigeit vran ("bran the blessed"), probably an old pagan title which appropriately enough denotes one who figured later in christian hagiology, is so huge that no house or ship can hold him. hence he wades over to ireland, and as he draws near is thought to be a mountain. this may be an archaic method of expressing his divinity--a gigantic non-natural man like some of the tuatha déa and ossianic heroes. but bran also appears as the _urdawl ben_, or "noble head," which makes time pass to its bearers like a dream, and when buried protects the land from invasion. both as a giant squatting on a rock and as a head, bran is equated by professor rh[^y]s with cernunnos, the squatting god, represented also as a head, and also with the welsh urien whose attribute was a raven, the supposed meaning of bran's name.[ ] he further equates him with uthr ben, "wonderful head," the superior bard, harper and piper of a _taliesin_ poem.[ ] urien, bran, and uthr are three forms of a god worshipped by bards, and a "dark" divinity, whose wading over to ireland signifies crossing to hades, of which he, like yama, who first crossed the rapid waters to the land of death, is the ruler.[ ] but bran is not a "dark" god in the sense implied here. cernunnos is god of a happy underworld, and there is nothing dark or evil in him or in bran and his congeners. professor rh[^y]s's "dark" divinities are sometimes, in his view, "light" gods, but they cannot be both. the celtic lords of the dead had no "dark" character, and as gods of fertility they were, so to speak, in league with the sun-god, the slayer of bran, according to professor rh[^y]s's ingenious theory. and although to distracted irish secretaries ireland may be hades, its introduction into this _mabinogi_ merely points to the interpretation of a mythico-historic connection between wales and ireland. thus if bran is cernunnos, this is because he is a lord of the underworld of fertility, the counterpart of which is the distant elysium, to which bran seems rather to belong. thus, in presence of his head, time passes as a dream in feasting and joy. this is a true elysian note, and the tabued door of the story is also suggestive of the tabus of elysium, which when broken rob men of happiness.[ ] as to the power of the head in protecting the land, this points to actual custom and belief regarding the relics of the dead and the power of divine images or sculptured heads.[ ] the god bran has become a king and law-giver in the _mabinogion_ and the _triads_,[ ] while geoffrey of monmouth describes how belinus and brennus, in the welsh version beli and bran, dispute the crown of britain, are reconciled, and finally conquer gaul and rome.[ ] the mythic bran is confused with brennus, leader of the gauls against rome in b.c., and belinus may be the god belenos, as well as beli, father of lludd and caswallawn. but bran also figures as a christian missionary. he is described as hostage at rome for his son caradawc, returning thence as preacher of christianity to the cymry--a legend arising out of a misunderstanding of his epithet "blessed" and a confusing of his son with the historic caractacus.[ ] hence bran's family is spoken of as one of the three saintly families of prydein, and he is ancestor of many saints.[ ] branwen, "white bosom," daughter of a sea-god, may be a sea-goddess, "venus of the northern sea,"[ ] unless with mr. nutt we connect her with the cauldron described in her legend,[ ] symbol of an orgiastic cult, and regard her as a goddess of fertility. but the connection is not clear in the story, though in some earlier myth the cauldron may have been her property. as brangwaine, she reappears in romance, giving a love-potion to tristram--perhaps a reminiscence of her former functions as a goddess of love, or earlier of fertility. in the _mabinogion_ she is buried in anglesey at ynys bronwen, where a cairn with bones discovered in was held to be the grave and remains of branwen.[ ] the children of dôn, the equivalent of danu, and probably like her, a goddess of fertility, are gwydion, gilvæthwy, amæthon, govannon, and arianrhod, with her sons, dylan and llew.[ ] these correspond, therefore, in part to the tuatha déa, though the only members of the group who bear names similar to the irish gods are govannon (= goibniu) and possibly llew (= lug). gwydion as a culture-god corresponds to ogma. in the _triads_ beli is called father of arianrhod,[ ] and assuming that this arianrhod is identical with the daughter of dôn, professor rh[^y]s regards beli as husband of dôn. but the identification is far from certain, and the theory built upon it that beli is one with the irish bile, and that both are lords of a dark underworld, has already been found precarious.[ ] in later belief dôn was associated with the stars, the constellation cassiopeia being called her court. she is described as "wise" in a _taliesin_ poem.[ ] this group of divinities is met with mainly in the _mabinogi_ of math, which turns upon gilvæthwy's illicit love of math's "foot-holder" goewin. to assist him in his _amour_, gwydion, by a magical trick, procures for math from the court of pryderi certain swine sent him by arawn, king of annwfn. in the battle which follows when the trick is discovered, gwydion slays pryderi by enchantment. math now discovers that gilvæthwy has seduced goewin, and transforms him and gwydion successively into deer, swine, and wolves. restored to human form, gwydion proposes that arianrhod should be math's foot-holder, but math by a magic test discovers that she is not a virgin. she bears two sons, dylan, fostered by math, and another whom gwydion nurtures and for whom he afterwards by a trick obtains a name from arianrhod, who had sworn never to name him. the name is llew llaw gyffes, "lion of the sure hand." by magic, math and gwydion form a wife for llew out of flowers. she is called blodeuwedd, and later, at the instigation of a lover, gronw, she discovers how llew can be killed. gronw attacks and wounds him, and he flies off as an eagle. gwydion seeks for llew, discovers him, and retransforms him to human shape. then he changes blodeuwedd into an owl, and slays gronw.[ ] several independent tales have gone to the formation of this _mabinogi_, but we are concerned here merely with the light it may throw on the divine characters who figure in it. math or math hen, "the ancient,"[ ] is probably an old divinity of gwyned, of which he is called lord. he is a king and a magician, pre-eminent in wizardry, which he teaches to gwydion, and in a _triad_ he is called one of the great men of magic and metamorphosis of britain.[ ] more important are his traits of goodness to the suffering, and justice with no trace of vengeance to the wrong-doer. whether these are derived from his character as a god or from the celtic kingly ideal, it is impossible to say, though the former is by no means unlikely. possibly his supreme magical powers make him the equivalent of the irish "god of druidism," but this is uncertain, since all gods were more or less dowered with these. gwydion's magical powers are abundantly illustrated in the tale. at pryderi's court he changes fungus into horses and dogs, and afterwards slays pryderi by power of enchantments; he produces a fleet by magic before arianrhod's castle; with math's help he forms blodeuwedd out of flowers; he gives llew his natural shape when he finds him as a wasted eagle on a tree, his flesh and the worms breeding in it dropping from him; he transforms the faithless blodeuwedd into an owl. some of these and other deeds are referred to in the _taliesin_ poems, while taliesin describes himself as enchanted by gwydion.[ ] in the _triads_ he is one of the three great astrologers of prydein, and this emphasis laid on his powers of divination is significant when it is considered that his name may be derived from a root _vet_, giving words meaning "saying" or "poetry," while cognate words are irish _fáith_, "a prophet" or "poet," german _wuth_, "rage," and the name of odinn.[ ] the name is suggestive of the ecstasy of inspiration producing prophetic and poetic utterance. in the _mabinogion_ he is a mighty bard, and in a poem, he, under the name of gweir, is imprisoned in the other-world, and there becomes a bard, thus receiving inspiration from the gods' land.[ ] he is the ideal _fáith_--diviner, prophet, and poet, and thus the god of those professing these arts. strabo describes how the celtic _vates_ (_fáith_) was also a philosopher, and this character is given in a poem to seon (probably = gwydion), whose artists are poets and magicians.[ ] but he is also a culture-god, bringing swine to men from the gods' land. for though pryderi is described as a mortal who has himself received the swine from annwfn (elysium), there is no doubt that he himself was a lord of annwfn, and it was probably on account of gwydion's theft from annwfn that he, as gweir, was imprisoned there "through the messenger of pwyll and pryderi."[ ] a raid is here made directly on the god's land for the benefit of men, and it is unsuccessful, but in the _mabinogi_ a different version of the raid is told. perhaps gwydion also brought kine from annwfn, since he is called one of the three herds of britain,[ ] while he himself may once have been an animal god, then an anthropomorphic deity associated with animals. thus in the _mabinogi_, when gwydion flees with the swine, he rests each night at a place one of the syllables of which is _moch_, "swine"--an ætiological myth explaining why places which were once sites of the cult of a swine-god, afterwards worshipped as gwydion, were so called. gwydion has also a tricky, fraudulent character in the _mabinogi_, and although "in his life there was counsel," yet he had a "vicious muse."[ ] it is also implied that he is lover of his sister arianrhod and father of dylan and llew--the mythic reflections of a time when such unions, perhaps only in royal houses, were permissible. instances occur in irish tales, and arthur was also his sister's lover.[ ] in later belief gwydion was associated with the stars; and the milky way was called caer gwydion. across it he had chased the faithless blodeuwedd.[ ] professor rh[^y]s equates him with odinn, and regards both as representing an older celto-teutonic hero, though many of the alleged similarities in their respective mythologies are not too obvious.[ ] amæthon the good is described in _kulhwych_ as the only husbandman who could till or dress a certain piece of land, though kulhwych will not be able to force him or to make him follow him.[ ] this, together with the name amæthon, from cymric _amæth_, "labourer" or "ploughman," throws some light on his functions.[ ] he was a god associated with agriculture, either as one who made waste places fruitful, or possibly as an anthropomorphic corn divinity. but elsewhere his taking a roebuck and a whelp, and in a _triad_, a lapwing from arawn, king of annwfn, led to the battle of godeu, in which he fought arawn, aided by gwydion, who vanquished one of arawn's warriors, bran, by discovering his name.[ ] amæthon, who brings useful animals from the gods' land, plays the same part as gwydion, bringer of the swine. the dog and deer are frequent representatives of the corn-spirit, of which amæthon may have been an anthropomorphic form, or they, with the lapwing, may have been earlier worshipful animals, associated with amæthon as his symbols, while later myth told how he had procured them from annwfn. the divine functions of llew llaw gyffes are hardly apparent in the _mabinogi_. the incident of blodeuwedd's unfaithfulness is simply that of the _märchen_ formula of the treacherous wife who discovers the secret of her husband's life, and thus puts him at her lover's mercy.[ ] but since llew is not slain, but changes to eagle form, this unusual ending may mean that he was once a bird divinity, the eagle later becoming his symbol. some myth must have told of his death, or he was afterwards regarded as a mortal who died, for a poem mentions his tomb, and adds, "he was a man who never gave justice to any one." dr. skene suggests that truth, not justice, is here meant, and finds in this a reference to llew's disguises.[ ] professor rh[^y]s, for reasons not held convincing by m. loth, holds that _llew_, "lion," was a misapprehension for his true name _lleu_, interpreted by him "light."[ ] this meaning he also gives to _lug_, equating lug and llew, and regarding both as sun-gods. he also equates _llaw gyffes_, "steady _or_ strong hand," with lug's epithet _lám fada_, "long hand," suggesting that _gyffes_ may have meant "long," although it was llew's steadiness of hand in shooting which earned him the title.[ ] again, llew's rapid growth need not make him the sun, for this was a privilege of many heroes who had no connection with the sun. llew's unfortunate matrimonial affairs are also regarded as a sun myth. blodeuwedd is a dawn goddess dividing her love between the sun-god and the prince of darkness. llew as the sun is overcome by the latter, but is restored by the culture-hero gwydion, who slays the dark rival. the transformation of blodeuwedd into an owl means that the dawn has become the dusk.[ ] as we have seen, all this is a _märchen_ formula with no mythical significance. evidence of the precariousness of such an interpretation is furnished from the similar interpretation of the story of curoi's wife, blathnat, whose lover cúchulainn slew curoi.[ ] here a supposed sun-god is the treacherous villain who kills a dark divinity, husband of a dawn goddess. if llew is a sun-god, the equivalent of lug, it is curious that he is never connected with the august festival in wales which corresponds to lugnasad in ireland. there may be some support to the theory which makes him a sun-god in a _triad_ where he is one of the three _ruddroawc_ who cause a year's sterility wherever they set their feet, though in this arthur excels them, for he causes seven years' sterility![ ] does this point to the scorching of vegetation by the summer sun? the mythologists have not made use of this incident. on the whole the evidence for llew as a sun-god is not convincing. the strongest reason for identifying him with lug rests on the fact that both have uncles who are smiths and have similar names--govannon and gavida (goibniu). like amæthon, govannon, the artificer or smith (_gôf_, "smith"), is mentioned in _kulhwych_ as one whose help must be gained to wait at the end of the furrows to cleanse the iron of the plough.[ ] here he is brought into connection with the plough, but the myth to which the words refer is lost. a _taliesin_ poem associates him with math--"i have been with artificers, with the old math and with govannon," and refers to his _caer_ or castle.[ ] arianrhod, "silver wheel," has a twofold character. she pretends to be a virgin, and disclaims all knowledge of her son llew, yet she is mistress of gwydion. in the _triads_ she appears as one of the three blessed (or white) ladies of britain.[ ] perhaps these two aspects of her character may point to a divergence between religion and mythology, the cult of a virgin goddess of whom myth told discreditable things. more likely she was an old earth-goddess, at once a virgin and a fruitful mother, like artemis, the virgin goddess, yet neither chaste nor fair, or like a babylonian goddess addressed as at once "mother, wife, and maid." arianrhod, "beauty famed beyond summer's dawn," is mentioned in a _taliesin_ poem, and she was later associated with the constellation corona borealis.[ ] possibly her real name was forgotten, and that of arianrhod derived from a place-name, "caer arianrhod," associated with her. the interpretation which makes her a dawn goddess, mother of light, lleu, and darkness, dylan, is far from obvious.[ ] dylan, after his baptism, rushed into the sea, the nature of which became his. no wave ever broke under him; he swam like a fish; and hence was called dylan eil ton or "son of the wave." govannon, his uncle, slew him, an incident interpreted as the defeat of darkness, which "hies away to lurk in the sea." dylan, however, has no dark traits and is described as a blonde. the waves lament his death, and, as they dash against the shore, seek to avenge it. his grave is "where the wave makes a sullen sound," but popular belief identifies him with the waves, and their noise as they press into the conway is his dying groan. not only is he _eil ton_, "son of the wave," but also _eil mor_, "son of the sea."[ ] he is thus a local sea-god, and like manannan identified with the waves, and yet separate from them, since they mourn his death. the _mabinogi_ gives us the _débris_ of myths explaining how an anthropomorphic sea-god was connected with the goddess arianrhod and slain by a god govannon. another _mabinogion_ group is that of pwyll, prince of dyved, his wife rhiannon, and their son pryderi.[ ] pwyll agrees with arawn, king of annwfn (elysium), to reign over his kingdom for a year. at the end of that time he slays arawn's rival havgan. arawn sends him gifts, and pwyll is now known as pen or head of annwfn, a title showing that he was once a god, belonging to the gods' land, later identified with the christian hades. pwyll now agrees with rhiannon,[ ] who appears mysteriously on a magic hillock, and whom he captures, to rid her of an unwelcome suitor gwawl. he imprisons him in a magical bag, and rhiannon weds pwyll. the story thus resolves itself into the formula of the fairy bride, but it paves the way for the vengeance taken on pryderi and rhiannon by gwawl's friend llwyt. rhiannon has a son who is stolen as soon as born. she is accused of slaying him and is degraded, but teyrnon recovers the child from its super-human robber and calls him gwri. as he grows up, teyrnon notices his resemblance to pwyll, and takes him to his court. rhiannon is reinstated, and because she cries that her anguish (_pryderi_) is gone, the boy is now called pryderi. here, again, we have _märchen_ incidents, which also appear in the fionn saga.[ ] though there is little that is mythological here, it is evident that pwyll is a god and rhiannon a goddess, whose early importance, like that of other celtic goddesses, appears from her name, a corruption of rigantona, "great queen." elsewhere we hear of her magic birds whose song charmed bran's companions for seven years, and of her marriage to manawyddan--an old myth in which manawyddan may have been pryderi's father, while possibly in some other myth pryderi may have been child of rigantona and teyrnon (=tigernonos, "king").[ ] we may postulate an old rhiannon saga, fragments of which are to be found in the _mabinogi_, and there may have been more than one goddess called rigantona, later fused into one. but in the tales she is merely a queen of old romance. pryderi, as has been seen, was despoiled of his swine by gwydion. they were the gift of arawn, but in the _triads_ they seem to have been brought from annwfn by pwyll, while pryderi acted as swineherd.[ ] both pwyll and pryderi are thus connected with those myths which told of the bringing of domestic animals from the gods' land. but since they are certainly gods, associated with the gods' land, this is perhaps the result of misunderstanding. a poem speaks of the magic cauldron of pen annwfn, i.e. pwyll, and this points to a myth explaining his connection with annwfn in a different way from the account in the _mabinogi_. the poem also tells how gweir was imprisoned in caer sidi (=annwfn) "through the messenger of pwyll and pryderi."[ ] they are thus lords of annwfn, whose swine gweir (gwydion) tries to steal. elsewhere caer sidi is associated with manawyddan and pryderi, perhaps a reference to their connection as father and son.[ ] thus pryderi and pwyll belong to the bright elysium, and may once have been gods of fertility associated with the under-earth region, which was by no means a world of darkness. whatever be the meaning of the death of pryderi at the hands of gwydion, it is connected with later references to his grave.[ ] a fourth group is that of beli and his sons, referred to in the _mabinogi_ of branwen, where one of them, caswallawn, usurps the throne, and thus makes manawyddan, like macgregor, landless. in the _dream of maxen_, the sons of beli are lludd, caswallawn, nynnyaw, and llevelys.[ ] geoffrey calls beli heli, and speaks of an earlier king belinus, at enmity with his brother brennius.[ ] but probably beli or heli and belinus are one and the same, and both represent the earlier god belenos. caswellawn becomes cassivellaunus, opponent of cæsar, but in the _mabinogi_ he is hostile to the race of llyr, and this may be connected with whatever underlies geoffrey's account of the hostility of belinus and brennius (=bran, son of llyr), perhaps, like the enmity of the race of d[^o]n to pryderi, a reminiscence of the strife of rival tribes or of goidel and brython.[ ] as has been seen, the evidence for regarding beli as d[^o]n's consort or the equivalent of bile is slender. nor, if he is belenos, the equivalent of apollo, is he in any sense a "dark" god. he is regarded as a victorious champion, preserver of his "honey isle" and of the stability of his kingdom, in a _taliesin_ poem and in the _triads_.[ ] the personality of casswallawn is lost in that of the historic cassivellaunus, but in a reference to him in the _triads_ where, with caradawc and gweirydd, he bears the title "war king," we may see a glimpse of his divine character, that of a god of war, invisibly leading on armies to battle, and as such embodied in great chiefs who bore his name.[ ] nynnyaw appears in geoffrey's pages as nennius, who dies of wounds inflicted by cæsar, to the great grief of cassivellaunus.[ ] the theory that lludd llaw ereint or _lodens lamargentios_ represents _nodens_ (nuada) _l[=a]margentios_, the change being the result of alliteration, has been contested,[ ] while if the welsh lludd and nudd were identical it is strange that they should have become distinct personalities, gwyn, son of nudd, being the lover of creiddylad, daughter of lludd,[ ] unless in some earlier myth their love was that of brother and sister. lludd is also confused or is identical with llyr, just as the irish ler is with alloid. he is probably the son of beli who, in the tale of _lludd and llevelys_, by the advice of llevelys rids his country of three plagues.[ ] these are, first, the coranians who hear every whisper, and whom he destroys by throwing over them water in which certain insects given him by levelys have been bruised. the second is a shriek on may-eve which makes land and water barren, and is caused by a dragon which attacks the dragon of the land. these lludd captures and imprisons at dinas emreis, where they afterwards cause trouble to vortigern at the building of his castle. the third is that of the disappearance of a year's supply of food by a magician, who lulls every one to sleep and who is captured by lludd. though the coranians appear in the _triads_ as a hostile tribe,[ ] they may have been a supernatural folk, since their name is perhaps derived from _còr_, "dwarf," and they are now regarded as mischievous fairies.[ ] they may thus be analogous to the fomorians, and their story, like that of the dragon and the magician who produce blight and loss of food, may be based on older myth or ritual embodying the belief in powers hostile to fertility, though it is not clear why those powers should be most active on may-day. but this may be a misunderstanding, and the dragons are overcome on may-eve. the references in the tale to lludd's generosity and liberality in giving food may reflect his function as a god of growth, but, like other euhemerised gods, he is also called a mighty warrior, and is said to have rebuilt the walls of caer ludd (london), his name still surviving in "ludgate hill," where he was buried.[ ] this legend doubtless points to some ancient cult of lludd at this spot. nudd already discussed under his title nodons, is less prominent than his son gwyn, whose fight with gwthur we have explained as a mythic explanation of ritual combats for the increase of fertility. he also appears as a hunter and as a great warrior,[ ] "the hope of armies," and thus he may be a god of fertility who became a god of war and the chase. but legend associated him with annwfn, and regarded him, like the tuatha déa, as a king of fairyland.[ ] in the legend of s. collen, the saint tells two men, whom he overhears speaking of gwyn and the fairies, that these are demons. "thou shalt receive a reproof from gwyn," said one of them, and soon after collen was summoned to meet the king of annwfn on glastonbury tor. he climbed the hill with a flask of holy water, and saw on its top a splendid castle, with crowds of beautiful and youthful folk, while the air resounded with music. he was brought to gwyn, who politely offered him food, but "i will not eat of the leaves of the tree," cried the saint; and when he was asked to admire the dresses of the crowd, all he would say was that the red signified burning, the blue coldness. then he threw the holy water over them, and nothing was left but the bare hillside.[ ] though gwyn's court on glastonbury is a local celtic elysium, which was actually located there, the story marks the hostility of the church to the cult of gwyn, perhaps practised on hilltops, and this is further seen in the belief that he hunts souls of the wicked and is connected with annwfn in its later sense of hell. but a mediant view is found in _kulhwych_, where it is said of him that he restrains the demons of hell lest they should destroy the people of this world. in the _triads_ he is, like other gods, a great magician and astrologer.[ ] another group, unknown to the _mabinogion_, save that taliesin is one of the bearers of bran's head, is found in the _book of taliesin_ and in the late story of taliesin. these, like the _arthur_ cycle, often refer to personages of the _mabinogion_; hence we gather that local groups of gods, originally distinct, were later mingled in story, the references in the poems reflecting this mingling. late as is the _hanes taliesin_ or story of taliesin, and expressed as much of it is in a _märchen_ formula, it is based on old myths about cerridwen and taliesin of which its compiler made use, following an old tradition already stereotyped in one of the poems in the _märchen_ formula of the transformation combat.[ ] but the mythical fragments are also mingled with traditions regarding the sixth century poet taliesin. the older saga was perhaps developed in a district south of the dyfi estuary.[ ] in lake tegid dwell tegid voel, cerridwen, and their children--the fair maiden creirwy, morvran, and the ugly avagddu. to give avagddu knowledge, his mother prepares a cauldron of inspiration from which three drops of inspiration will be produced. these fall on the finger of gwion, whom she set to stir it. he put the finger in his mouth, and thus acquired the inspiration. he fled, and cerridwen pursued, the rest of the story being accommodated to the transformation combat formula. finally, cerridwen as a hen swallows gwion as a grain of wheat, and bears him as a child, whom she throws into the sea. elphin, who rescues him, calls him taliesin, and brings him up as a bard.[ ] the water-world of tegid is a submarine elysium with the customary cauldron of inspiration, regeneration, and fertility, like the cauldron associated with a water-world in the _mabinogion_. "shall not my chair be defended from the cauldron of cerridwen," runs a line in a taliesin poem, while another speaks of her chair, which was probably in elysium like that of taliesin himself in caer sidi.[ ] further references to her connection with poetry show that she may have been worshipped by bards, her cauldron being the source of their inspiration.[ ] her anger at gwion may point to some form of the celtic myth of the theft of the elements of culture from the gods' land. but the cauldron was first of all associated with a fertility cult,[ ] and cerridwen must therefore once have been a goddess of fertility, who, like brigit, was later worshipped by bards. she may also have been a corn-goddess, since she is called a goddess of grain, and tradition associates the pig--a common embodiment of the corn-spirit--with her.[ ] if the tradition is correct, this would be an instance, like that of demeter and the pig, of an animal embodiment of the corn-spirit being connected with a later anthropomorphic corn-goddess. taliesin was probably an old god of poetic inspiration confused with the sixth century poet of the same name, perhaps because this boastful poet identified himself or was identified by other bards with the gods. he speaks of his "splendid chair, inspiration of fluent and urgent song" in caer sidi or elysium, and, speaking in the god's name or identifying himself with him, describes his presence with llew, bran, gwydion, and others, as well as his creation and his enchantment before he became immortal.[ ] he was present with arthur when a cauldron was stolen from aunwfn, and basing his verses on the mythic transformations and rebirths of the gods, recounts in highly inflated language his own numerous forms and rebirths.[ ] his claims resemble those of the _shaman_ who has the entree of the spirit-world and can transform himself at will. taliesin's rebirth is connected with his acquiring of inspiration. these incidents appear separately in the story of fionn, who acquired his inspiration by an accident, and was also said to have been reborn as mongan. they are myths common to various branches of the celtic people, and applied in different combinations to outstanding gods or heroes.[ ] the _taliesin_ poems show that there may have been two gods or two mythic aspects of one god, later combined together. he is the son of the goddess and dwells in the divine land, but he is also a culture-hero stealing from the divine land. perhaps the myths reflect the encroachment of the cult of a god on that of a goddess, his worshippers regarding him as her son, her worshippers reflecting their hostility to the new god in a myth of her enmity to him. finally, the legend of the rescue of taliesin the poet from the waves became a myth of the divine outcast child rescued by elphin, and proving himself a bard when normal infants are merely babbling. the occasional and obscure references to the other members of this group throw little light on their functions, save that morvran, "sea-crow," is described in _kulhwych_ as so ugly and terrible that no one would strike him at the battle of camlan. he may have been a war-god, like the scald-crow goddesses of ireland, and he is also spoken of in the _triads_ as an "obstructor of slaughter" or "support of battle."[ ] ingenuity and speculation have busied themselves with trying to prove that the personages of the arthurian cycle are the old gods of the brythons, and the incidents of the romances fragments of the old mythology. while some of these personages--those already present in genuinely old welsh tales and poems or in geoffrey's _history_--are reminiscent of the old gods, the romantic presentment of them in the cycle itself is so largely imaginative, that nothing certain can be gained from it for the understanding of the old mythology, much less the old religion. incidents which are the common stock of real life as well as of romance are interpreted mythologically, and it is never quite obvious why the slaying of one hero by another should signify the conquest of a dark divinity by a solar hero, or why the capture of a heroine by one knight when she is beloved of another, should make her a dawn-goddess sharing her favours, now with the sun-god, now with a "dark" divinity. or, even granting the truth of this method, what light does it throw on celtic religion? we may postulate a local arthur saga fusing an old brythonic god with the historic sixth century arthur. from this or from geoffrey's handling of it sprang the great romantic cycle. in the ninth century nennius arthur is the historic war-chief, possibly count of britain, but in the reference to his hunting the _porcus troit_ (the _twrch trwyth_) the mythic arthur momentarily appears.[ ] geoffrey's arthur differs from the later arthur of romance, and he may have partially rationalised the saga, which was either of recent formation or else local and obscure, since there is no reference to arthur in the _mabinogion_--a fact which shows that "in the legends of gwynedd and dyfedd he had no place whatever,"[ ] and also that arthur the god or mythic hero was also purely local. in geoffrey arthur is the fruit of igerna's _amour_ with uther, to whom merlin has given her husband's shape. arthur conquers many hosts as well as giants, and his court is the resort of all valorous persons. but he is at last wounded by his wife's seducer, and carried to the isle of avallon to be cured of his wounds, and nothing more is ever heard of him.[ ] some of these incidents occur also in the stories of fionn and mongan, and those of the mysterious begetting of a wonder child and his final disappearance into fairyland are local forms of a tale common to all branches of the celts.[ ] this was fitted to the history of the local god or hero arthur, giving rise to the local saga, to which was afterwards added events from the life of the historic arthur. this complex saga must then have acquired a wider fame long before the romantic cycle took its place, as is suggested by the purely welsh tales of _kulhwych_ and the _dream of rhonabwy_, in the former of which the personages (gods) of the _mabinogion_ figure in arthur's train, though he is far from being the arthur of the romances. sporadic references to arthur occur also in welsh literature, and to the earlier saga belongs the arthur who spoils elysium of its cauldron in a _taliesin_ poem.[ ] in the _triads_ there is a mingling of the historic, the saga, and the later romance arthur, but probably as a result of the growing popularity of the saga arthur he is added to many triads as a more remarkable person than the three whom they describe.[ ] arthurian place-names over the brythonic area are more probably the result of the popularity of the saga than that of the later romantic cycle, a parallel instance being found in the extent of ossianic place-names over the goidelic area as a result of the spread of the fionn saga. the character of the romance arthur--the flower of knighthood and a great warrior--and the blending of the historic war-leader arthur with the mythic arthur, suggest that the latter was the ideal hero of certain brythonic groups, as fionn and cúchulainn of certain goidelic groups. he may have been the object of a cult as these heroes perhaps were, or he may have been a god more and more idealised as a hero. if the earlier form of his name was artor, "a ploughman," but perhaps with a wider significance, and having an equivalent in artaius, a gaulish god equated with mercury,[ ] he may have been a god of agriculture who became a war-god. but he was also regarded as a culture-hero, stealing a cauldron and also swine from the gods' land, the last incident euhemerised into the tale of an unsuccessful theft from march, son of meirchion,[ ] while, like other culture-heroes, he is a bard. to his story was easily fitted that of the wonder-child, who, having finally disappeared into elysium (later located at glastonbury), would reappear one day, like fionn, as the saviour of his people. the local arthur finally attained a fame far exceeding that of any brythonic god or hero. merlin, or myrddin, appears in the romances as a great magician who is finally overcome by the lady of the lake, and is in geoffrey son of a mysterious invisible personage who visits a woman, and, finally taking human shape, begets merlin. as a son who never had a father he is chosen as the foundation sacrifice for vortigern's tower by his magicians, but he confutes them and shows why the tower can never be built, namely, because of the dragons in the pool beneath it. then follow his prophecies regarding the dragons and the future of the country, and the story of his removal of the giant's dance, or stonehenge, from ireland to its present site--an ætiological myth explaining the origin of the great stone circle. his description of how the giants used the water with which they washed the stones for the cure of sickness or wounds, probably points to some ritual for healing in connection with these megaliths. finally, we hear of his transformation of the lovelorn uther and of his confidant ulfin, as well as of himself.[ ] here he appears as little more than an ideal magician, possibly an old god, like the irish "god of druidism," to whose legend had been attached a story of supernatural conception. professor rh[^y]s regards him as a celtic zeus or as the sun, because late legends tell of his disappearance in a glass house into the sea. the glass house is the expanse of light travelling with the sun (merlin), while the lady of the lake who comes daily to solace merlin in his enchanted prison is a dawn-goddess. stonehenge was probably a temple of this celtic zeus "whose late legendary self we have in merlin."[ ] such late romantic episodes and an ætiological myth can hardly be regarded as affording safe basis for these views, and their mythological interpretation is more than doubtful. the sun is never prisoner of the dawn as merlin is of viviane. merlin and his glass house disappear for ever, but the sun reappears every morning. even the most poetic mythology must conform in some degree to actual phenomena, but this cannot be said of the systems of mythological interpretation. if merlin belongs to the pagan period at all, he was probably an ideal magician or god of magicians, prominent, perhaps, in the arthur saga as in the later romances, and credited with a mysterious origin and an equally mysterious ending, the latter described in many different ways. the boastful kei of the romances appears already in _kulhwych_, while in geoffrey he is arthur's seneschal.[ ] nobler traits are his in later welsh poetry; he is a mighty warrior, fighting even against a hundred, though his powers as a toper are also great. here, too, his death is lamented.[ ] he may thus have been a god of war, and his battle-fury may be poetically described in a curious passage referring to him in _kulhwych_: "his breath lasted nine days and nine nights under water. he could remain without sleep for the same period. no physician could heal a wound inflicted by his sword. when he pleased he could make himself as tall as the tallest tree in the wood. and when it rained hardest, whatever he carried remained dry above and below his hand to the distance of a handbreadth, so great was his natural heat. when it was coldest he was as glowing fuel to his companions."[ ] this almost exactly resembles cúchulainn's aspect in his battle-fury. in a curious poem gwenhyvar (guinevere) extols his prowess as a warrior above that of arthur, and in _kulhwych_ and elsewhere there is enmity between the two.[ ] this may point to kei's having been a god of tribes hostile to those of whom arthur was hero. mabon, one of arthur's heroes in _kulhwych_ and the _dream of rhonabwy_, whose name, from _mab_ (_map_), means "a youth," may be one with the god maponos equated with apollo in britain and gaul, perhaps as a god of healing springs.[ ] his mother's name, modron, is a local form of _matrona_, a river-goddess and probably one of the mother-goddesses as her name implies. in the _triads_ mabon is one of the three eminent prisoners of prydein. to obtain his help in hunting the magic boar his prison must be found, and this is done by animals, in accordance with a _märchen_ formula, while the words spoken by them show the immense duration of his imprisonment--perhaps a hint of his immortality.[ ] but he was also said to have died and been buried at nantlle,[ ] which, like gloucester, the place of his prison, may have been a site of his widely extended cult.[ ] * * * * * taken as a whole the various gods and heroes of the brythons, so far as they are known to us, just as they resemble the irish divinities in having been later regarded as mortals, magicians, and fairies, so they resemble them in their functions, dimly as these are perceived. they are associated with elysium, they are lords of fertility and growth, of the sea, of the arts of culture and of war. the prominent position of certain goddesses may point to what has already been discovered of them in gaul and ireland--their pre-eminence and independence. but, like the divinities of gaul and ireland, those of wales were mainly local in character, and only in a few cases attained a wider popularity and cult. certain british gods mentioned on inscriptions may be identified with some of those just considered--nodons with nudd or lludd, belenos with belinus or beli, maponos with mabon, taranos (in continental inscriptions only), with a taran mentioned in _kulhwych_.[ ] others are referred to in classical writings--andrasta, a goddess of victory, to whom boudicca prayed;[ ] sul, a goddess of hot springs, equated with minerva at bath.[ ] inscriptions also mention epona, the horse-goddess; brigantia, perhaps a form of brigit; belisama (the mersey in ptolemy),[ ] a goddess in gaulish inscriptions. others refer to the group goddesses, the _matres_. some gods are equated with mars--camulos, known also on the continent and perhaps the same as cumal, father of fionn; belatucadros, "comely in slaughter"; cocidius, corotiacus, barrex, and totatis (perhaps lucan's teutates). others are equated with apollo in his character as a god of healing--anextiomarus, grannos (at musselburgh and in many continental inscriptions), arvalus, mogons, etc. most of these and many others found on isolated inscriptions were probably local in character, though some, occurring also on the continent, had attained a wider popularity.[ ] but some of the inscriptions referring to the latter may be due to gaulish soldiers quartered in britain. comparative table of divinities with similar names in ireland, britain, and gaul. _italics denote names found in inscriptions._ ireland. britain. gaul. _anextiomarus_ _anextiomarus_ anu anna (?) _anoniredi_, "chariot of anu" badb _bodua_ beli, belinus _belenos_ belisama _belisama_ brigit _brigantia_ _brigindu_ bron bran brennus (?) buanann _buanu_ cumal _camulos_ _camulos_ danu dôn _epona_ _epona_ goibniu govannon _grannos_ _grannos_ ler llyr lug llew or lleu (?) lugus, _lugores_ mabon, _maponos_ _maponos_ manannan manawyddan _matres_ _matres_ mider _medros_ (?) modron _matrona_ (?) nemon _nemetona_ nét _neton_ nuada _nodons_, nudd hael, llûdd (?) ogma ogmíos _silvanus_ _silvanus_ taran _taranis_ _totatis, tutatis_ teutates footnotes: [ ] the text of the _mabinogion_ has been edited by rh[^y]s and evans, , and it has been translated into english by lady guest, and more critically, into french, by loth. many of the _triads_ will be found in loth's second volume. for the poetry see skene, _four ancient books of wales_. [ ] these incidents are found mainly in the story of branwen, e.g. those of the cauldron, a frequent accessory in irish tales; the regeneration of the warriors, also found in the story of mag-tured, though no cauldron is used; the red-hot house, occurring also in _mesca ulad_; the description of bran paralleled by that of maccecht. [ ] anwyl, _zcp_ i. , ii. , iii. . [ ] bp. of s. davids, _vestiges of the gael in gwynned_, ; rh[^y]s, _tsc_ - , . [ ] skene, i. ; meyer, _tsc_ - , . [ ] cf. john, _the mabinogion_, , . curoi appears as kubert, and conchobar as knychur in _kulhwych_ (loth, i. ). a poem of _taliesin_ has for subject the death of corroi, son of dayry (curoi mac daire), skene, i. . [ ] loth, _rc_ x. ; john, _op. cit._ ; nutt, _arch. rev._ i. . [ ] the giant ysppadden in _kulhwych_ resembles balor, but has no evil eye. [ ] anwyl, _zcp_ ii. - , "the merging of the two legends [of dôn and taliesin] may have arisen through the fusion of penllyn with ardudwy and arvon." [ ] professor rh[^y]s thinks that the llyr family may be pre-celtic, _tsc_ - , f.; _cfl_ . [ ] loth, i. f.; lady guest, iii. f. [ ] see nutt, _folk-lore record_, v. f. [ ] loth, i. , ii. - ; geoffrey, _hist. brit._ ii. . [ ] loth, i. , , ii. , ; geoff. ii. . [ ] skene, i. ; rh[^y]s, _academy_, jan. , . [ ] _triads_, loth, ii. ; nutt, _folk-lore record_, v. . [ ] _hist. brit._ ii. - . [ ] _al_ . [ ] skene, i. . [ ] see nutt-meyer, ii. . [ ] skene, i. . [ ] loth, i. , ; see also i. , ii. , . [ ] see skene i. . the raven is rather the bird of prey come to devour urien than his "attribute." [ ] skene, i. . [ ] for these theories see rh[^y]s, _hl_ _f_.; _al_ ch. ; _cfl_ . [ ] see ch. xxiv. [ ] see p. . [ ] loth, i. , ii. . [ ] _hist. brit._ iii. _f_. geoffrey says that billingsgate was called after belinus, and that his ashes were preserved in the gate, a tradition recalling some connection of the god with the gate. [ ] an early caradawc saga may have become mingled with the story of caractacus. [ ] rees, . [ ] so elton, . [ ] _folk-lore record_, v. . [ ] lady guest, iii. . [ ] dôn is sometimes held to be male, but she is distinctly called sister of math (loth, i. ), and as the equivalent of danu she must be female. [ ] loth, ii. . [ ] see p. , _supra_, and rh[^y]s, _hl_ _f_. [ ] lady guest, iii. ; skene, i. , . [ ] for this _mabinogi_ see loth, i. f.; guest, iii. f. [ ] skene, i. . [ ] loth, ii. , ; and for other references to math, skene, i. , , . [ ] skene, i. , . [ ] loth, ii. ; rh[^y]s, _hl_ . [ ] skene, i. . [ ] rh[^y]s, _hl_ . skene, i. , , gives a different meaning to _seon_. [ ] skene, i. . [ ] loth, ii. . [ ] skene, i. , . [ ] see p. , _infra_. [ ] guest, iii. ; morris, _celtic remains_, . [ ] _hl_ _f_. see also grimm, _teut. myth._ i. . [ ] loth, i. . [ ] stokes, _us_ . [ ] _myvyrian archæol._ i. ; skene, i. , f.; loth, ii. . [ ] see my _childhood of fiction_, . llew's vulnerability does not depend on the discovery of his separable soul, as is usual. the earliest form of this _märchen_ is the egyptian story of the two brothers, and that of samson and delilah is another old form of it. [ ] skene, i. , ii. . [ ] _hl_ ; _rc_ x. . [ ] _hl_ , , , . [ ] _hl_ . [ ] _hl_ , . [ ] loth, ii. . [ ] loth, i. . [ ] skene, i, - . [ ] loth, ii. . [ ] skene, ii. ; rh[^y]s, _hl_ ; guest, iii. . [ ] rh[^y]s, _hl_ , . [ ] skene, i. , , , , ii. ; loth, i. ; rh[^y]s, _hl_ . [ ] loth, i. f.; guest, iii. f. [ ] rhiannon is daughter of heveidd hen or "the ancient," probably an old divinity. [ ] in the _mabinogi_ and in fionn tales a mysterious hand snatches away newly-born children. cf. _zcp_ i. . [ ] anwyl, _zcp_ i. . [ ] loth, ii. . [ ] skene, i. . [ ] ibid. i. . [ ] ibid. i. . [ ] loth, i. . [ ] _hist. brit._ ii. , iii. , , iv. . [ ] cf. anwyl, _zcp_ i. . [ ] skene, i. ; loth, ii. . some phrases seem to connect beli with the sea--the waves are his cattle, the brine his liquor. [ ] loth, ii. , , , . [ ] geoffrey, _brit. hist._ iv. . . [ ] rh[^y]s, _hl_ f.; loth, i. ; macbain, _cm_ ix. . [ ] see loth, i. ; and skene, i. . [ ] loth, i. f. [ ] loth, ii. , . [ ] rh[^y]s, _hl_ . cf. the breton fairies, the _korr_ and _korrigan_. [ ] geoffrey, iii. . [ ] loth, i. - ; skene, i. . [ ] guest, iii. . [ ] ibid. . [ ] loth, i. , ii. . [ ] see p. , _infra_.; skene, i. . [ ] anwyl, _zcp_ i. . [ ] guest, iii. f. [ ] skene, i. , . [ ] ibid. i. , . [ ] see p. , _infra_. [ ] _mon. hist. brit._ i. , ii.; thomas, _revue de l'hist. des religions_, xxxviii. . [ ] skene, i. , - , , - , - . his "chair" bestows immortal youth and freedom from sickness. [ ] skene, i. , f., , . see p. , _infra_. [ ] see pp. - , _infra_. fionn and taliesin are examples of the _märchen_ formula of a hero expelled and brought back to honour, nutt-meyer, ii. . [ ] loth, i. , ii. ; skene, ii. . [ ] nennius, ch. , . [ ] anwyl, _zcp_ i. . [ ] geoffrey, viii. -xi. . [ ] nutt-meyer, ii. f. [ ] see p. , _infra_. [ ] loth, ii. , . [ ] rh[^y]s, _al_, f. others derive the name from _arto-s_, "bear." macbain, . [ ] loth. ii. ; skene, ii. . [ ] geoffrey, vi. - , vii. viii. , - , . in a poem (skene, i. ), myrddin is called "the man who speaks from the grave"--a conception familiar to the celts, who thought of the dead as living on in the grave. see p. , _infra_. [ ] rh[^y]s, _hl_, f., - , . [ ] geoffrey, ix. , etc. [ ] skene, ii. . [ ] loth. i. ; cf. p. , _infra_. from this description elton supposes kei to have been a god of fire. [ ] _myv. arch._ i. ; loth, i. . rh[^y]s, _al_ , thinks merlin may have been guinevere's ravisher. [ ] holder, i. . [ ] loth i. , f., , ii. , . [ ] skene, i. , ii. ; _myv. arch._ i. . [ ] hu gadarn is mentioned in the _triads_ as a leader of the cymry from the east and their teacher in ploughing. he divided them into clans, and invented music and song. the monster _avanc_ was drawn by him from the lake which had burst and caused the flood (see p. , _infra_). perhaps hu is an old culture-god of some tribes, but the _triads_ referring to him are of late date (loth, ii. , , - , - ). for the ridiculous neo-druidic speculations based on hu, see davies, _celtic researches_ and _mythology and rites of the druids_. gurgiunt, son of belinus, in geoffrey, iii. , may be the french legendary gargantua, perhaps an old god. see the works of sébillot and gaidoz on _gargantua_. [ ] loth, i. . [ ] dio cassius, lxii. . [ ] solinus, xxii. . see p. , _supra_. [ ] ptol. ii. . . [ ] for all these see holder, _s.v._ chapter vii. the cÚchulainn cycle. the events of the cúchulainn cycle are supposed to date from the beginning of the christian era--king conchobar's death synchronising with the crucifixion. but though some personages who are mentioned in the annals figure in the tales, on the whole they deal with persons who never existed. they belong to a world of romance and myth, and embody the ideals of celtic paganism, modified by christian influences and those of classical tales and romantic sagas of other regions, mainly scandinavian. the present form of the tales as they exist in the _book of the dun cow_ and the _book of leinster_ must have been given them in the seventh or eighth century, but they embody materials of a far older date. at an early time the saga may have had a more or less definite form, but new tales were being constantly added to it, and some of the longer tales are composed of incidents which once had no connection with each other. cúchulainn is the central figure of the cycle, and its central episode is that of the _táin bó cuailgne_, or "cattle spoil of cooley." other personages are conchobar and dechtire, ailill and medb, fergus, conall cernach, cúroi, deirdre, and the sons of usnach. some of these are of divine descent, some are perhaps euhemerised divinities; conchobar is called _día talmaide_, "a terrestrial god," and dechtire a goddess. the cycle opens with the birth of conchobar, son of cathbad and of nessa, daughter of one of the tuatha dé danann, though in an older rescension of the tale he is nessa's son by the god lug. during conchobar's reign over ulster cúchulainn was born. he was son of dechtire, either by sualtaim, or by her brother conchobar, or by the god lug, of whom he may also be a reincarnation.[ ] like other heroes of saga, he possesses great strength and skill at a tender age, and, setting out for conchobar's court, overpowers the king's "boy corps," and then becomes their chief. his next adventure is the slaying of the watch-dog of culann the smith, and his appeasing the anger of its owner by offering to act as his watch-dog. cathbad now announced that his name would henceforth be cú chulainn, "culann's hound."[ ] at the mature age of seven he obtained conchobar's spears, sword, shield, and chariot, and with these he overcame three mighty champions, returning in the distortion of his "battle-fury" to emania. to prevent mischief from his rage, the women went forth naked to meet him. he modestly covered his eyes, for it was one of his _geasa_ not to look on a woman's breast. thus taken unawares, he was plunged into three successive vats of cold water until his natural appearance was restored to him, although the water boiled and hissed from his heat.[ ] as cúchulainn grew up, his strength, skill, wisdom, and beauty were unsurpassed. all women fell in love with him, and to forestall a series of _bonnes fortunes_, the men of ulster sought a wife for him. but the hero's heart was set on emer, daughter of forgall, whom he wooed in a strange language which none but she could understand. at last she consented to be his wife if he would slay a number of warriors. forgall was opposed to the match, and with a view to cúchulainn's destruction suggested that he should go to donall in alba to increase his skill, and to scathach if he would excel all other warriors. he agreed, provided that forgall would give him whatever he asked for on his return. arrived in alba, he refused the love of donall's daughter, dornolla, who swore to be avenged. thence he went to scathach, overcoming all the dangers of the way, leaping in safety the gulf surrounding her island, after essaying in vain to cross a narrow, swinging bridge. from scathach he learned supreme skill in arms, and overcame her amazonian rival aife. he begat a son by aife, and instructed her to call him conla, to give him his father's ring, to send him to seek cúchulainn, and to forbid him to reveal his name. in the sequel, cúchulainn, unaware that conla was his son, slew him in single combat, too late discovering his identity from the ring which he wore. this is the well-known saga formula of sohrab and rustum, of theseus and hippolytus. on his return from scathach's isle cúchulainn destroyed forgall's _rath_ with many of its inmates, including forgall, and carried off emer. to the ten years which followed, during which he was the great champion of ulster, belong many tales in which he figures prominently. one of these is _the debility of the ultonians_. this was caused by macha, who, during her pregnancy, was forced to run a race with conchobar's horses. she outran them, but gave birth immediately to twins, and, in her pangs, cursed the men of ulster, with a curse that, in time of oppression, they would be overcome with the weakness of childbirth. from this cúchulainn was exempt, for he was not of ulster, but a son of lug.[ ] various attempts have been made to explain this "debility." it may be a myth explaining a celtic use of the "couvade," though no example of a simultaneous tribal couvade is known, unless we have here an instance of westermarck's "human pairing season in primitive times," with its consequent simultaneous birth-period for women and couvade for men.[ ] others, with less likelihood, explain it as a period of tabu, with cessation from work and warfare, at a funeral or festival.[ ] in any case macha's curse is a myth explanatory of the origin of some existing custom, the duration of which is much exaggerated by the narrator. to this period belong also the tale of cúchulainn's visit to elysium, and others to be referred to later. another story describes his attack upon morrigan because she would neither yield up the cows which she was driving away nor tell her true name--an instance of the well-known name tabu. morrigan took the form of a bird, and was then recognised by cúchulainn, who poured scorn upon her, while she promised to oppose him during the fight of the _táin_ in the forms of an eel, a wolf, and a cow, all of which he vowed to destroy.[ ] like many others in the saga, this story is introductory to the main episode of the _táin_. to this we now turn. medb had been wife of conchobar, but, leaving him, had married in succession two chiefs called ailill, the second of whom had a bull, findbennach, the white-horned, which she resolved to match by one in every way its equal. having been refused the brown bull of cuailgne, she summoned all her forces to invade ulster. the moment was inauspicious for ulster, for all its men were suffering from their "debility." cúchulainn, therefore, went out to encounter the host, and forced medb to agree that a succession of her warriors should engage him in single combat. among these was his old friend ferdia, and nothing is so touching as his reluctance to fight him or so pathetic as his grief when ferdia falls. the reluctance is primarily due to the tie of blood-brotherhood existing between them. finally, the ulstermen rose in force and defeated medb, but not before she had already captured the bull and sent it into her own land. there it was fought by the findbennach and slew it, rushing back to ulster with the mangled body on its horns. but in its frenzy a rock seemed to be another bull, which it charged; its brains were dashed out, and it fell dead. the morrigan had warned the bull of the approach of medb's army, and she had also appeared in the form of a beautiful woman to cúchulainn offering him her love, only to be repulsed. hence she turned against him, and described how she would oppose him as an eel, a wolf, and a red heifer--an incident which is probably a variant of that already described.[ ] in each of these shapes she was conquered and wounded by the hero, and knowing that none whom he hurt could be healed save by himself, she appeared to him as an old crone milking a cow. at each draught of the milk which he received from her he blessed her with "the blessing of gods and not-gods," and so her wounds were healed.[ ] for this, at a later time, she tried to ward off his death, but unsuccessfully. during the progress of the _táin_, one of cúchulainn's "fairy kinsmen," namely, lug, who announced himself as his father, appeared to aid him, while others of the tuatha déa threw "herbs of healing" into the streams in which his wounds were washed.[ ] during the _táin_, cúchulainn slaughtered the wizard calatin and his daughters. but calatin's wife bore three posthumous sons and three daughters, and through their means the hero was at last slain. everything was done to keep him back from the host which now advanced against ulster, but finally one of calatin's daughters took the form of niamh and bade him go forth. as he passed to the fight, calatin's daughters persuaded him to eat the flesh of a dog--a fatal deed, for it was one of his _geasa_ never to eat dog's flesh. so it was that in the fight he was slain by lugaid,[ ] and his soul appeared to the thrice fifty queens who had loved him, chanting a mystic song of the coming of christ and the day of doom--an interesting example of a phantasm coincidental with death.[ ] this and other christian touches show that the christian redactors of the saga felt tenderly towards the old pagan hero. this is even more marked in the story in which he appears to king loegaire and s. patrick, begging the former to believe in god and the saint, and praying patrick to "bring me with thy faithful ones unto the land of the living."[ ] a similar christianising appears in the story of conchobar's death, the result of his mad frenzy on hearing from his druid that an earthquake is the result of the shameful crucifixion of christ.[ ] in the saga, cúchulainn appears as the ideal celtic warrior, but, like other ideal warriors, he is a "magnified, non-natural man," many of his deeds being merely exaggerations of those common among barbaric folk. even his "distortion" or battle frenzy is but a magnifying of the wild frenzy of all wild fighters. to the person of this ideal warrior, some of whose traits may have been derived from traditional stories of actual heroes, _märchen_ and saga episodes attached themselves. of every ideal hero, celtic, greek, babylonian, or polynesian, certain things are told--his phenomenal strength as a child; his victory over enormous forces; his visits to the other-world; his amours with a goddess; his divine descent. these belong to the common stock of folk-tale episodes, and accumulate round every great name. hence, save in the colouring given to them or the use made of them by any race, they do not afford a key to the mythic character of the hero. such deeds are ascribed to cúchulainn, as they doubtless were to the ideal heroes of the "undivided aryans," but though parallels may be found between him and the greek heracles, they might just as easily be found in non-aryan regions, e.g. in polynesia. thus the parallels between cúchulainn and heracles throw little light on the personality of the former, though here and there in such parallels we observe a peculiarly celtic touch. thus, while the greek hero rescues hesione from a dragon, it is from three fomorians that cúchulainn rescues devorgilla, namely, from beings to whom actual human sacrifice was paid. thus a _märchen_ formula of world-wide existence has been moulded by celtic religious belief and ritual practice.[ ] it was inevitable that the "mythological school" should regard cúchulainn as a solar hero. thus "he reaches his full development at an unusually early age," as the sun does,[ ] but also as do many other heroes of saga and _märchen_ who are not solar. the three colours of cúchulainn's hair, dark near the skin, red in the middle, golden near the top, are claimed to be a description of the sun's rays, or of the three parts into which the celts divided the day.[ ] elsewhere his tresses are yellow, like prince charlie's in fact and in song, yet he was not a solar hero. again, the seven pupils of his eyes perhaps "referred to the days of the week."[ ] blindness befell all women who loved him, a reference to the difficulty of gazing at the sun.[ ] this is prosaic! the blindness was a compliment paid to cúchulainn the blind, by women who made themselves blind while talking to him, just as conall cernach's mistresses squinted as he did.[ ] cúchulainn's blindness arose from his habit of sinking one eye into his head and protruding the other--a well-known solar trait! his "distortion," during which, besides this "blindness," blood shot upwards from his head and formed a magic mist, and his anger caused showers of sparks to mount above him, points to dawn or sunset,[ ] though the setting sun would rather suggest a hero sinking calmly to rest than a mad giant setting out to slaughter friend and foe. the "distortion," as already pointed out, is the exaggerated description of the mad warrior rage, just as the fear which produced death to those who saw him brandish his weapons, was also produced by maori warrior methods.[ ] lug, who may be a sun-god, has no such "distortion." the cooling of the hero in three vats, the waters of which boil over, and his emergence from them pinky red in colour, symbolise the sun sinking into the waters and reappearing at dawn.[ ] might it not describe in an exaggerated way the refreshing bath taken by frenzied warriors, the water being supposed to grow warm from the heat of their bodies?[ ] one of the hero's _geasa_ was not to see manannan's horses, the waves; which, being interpreted, means that the sun is near its death as it approaches the sea. yet lug, a sun-god, rides the steed enbarr, a personification of the waves, while cúchulainn himself often crossed the sea, and also lived with the sea-god's wife, fand, without coming to grief. again, the magic horses which he drives, black and grey in colour, are "symbols of day and night,"[ ] though it is not obvious why a grey horse should symbolise day, which is not always grey even in the isles of the west. unlike a solar hero, too, cúchulainn is most active in winter, and rests for a brief space from slaughtering at midday--the time of the sun's greatest activity both in summer and winter. another theory is that every visit of the hero to a strange land signifies a descent to hades, suggested by the sun sinking in the west. scathach's island may be hades, but it is more probably elysium with some traits borrowed from the christian idea of hell. but emer's land, also visited by cúchulainn, suggests neither hades nor elysium. emer calls herself _ingen rig richis garta_, translated by professor rh[^y]s as "daughter of the coal-faced king," i.e. she is daughter of darkness. hence she is a dawn-maiden and becomes the sun-hero's wife.[ ] there is nothing in the story to corroborate this theory, apart from the fact that it is not clear, even to the hypothetical primitive mind, why dawn and sun should be a divine pair. emer's words probably mean that she is "daughter of a king" and "a flame of hospitality" (_richis garta_.)[ ] cúchulainn, in visiting her, went from west to east, contrary to the apparent course of the sun. the extravagance of the solar theory is further seen in the hypothesis that because cúchulainn has other wives, the sun-god made love to as many dawn-maidens as there are days in the year,[ ] like the king in louys' romance with his wives, one for each day of the year, leap-year included. further examples of the solar theory need not be cited. it is enough to see in cúchulainn the ideal warrior, whose traits are bombastic and obscure exaggerations of actual custom and warfare, or are borrowed from folk-tale _motifs_ not exclusively celtic. possibly he may have been a war-god, since he is associated with badb[ ] and also with morrigan. but he has also some traits of a culture hero. he claims superiority in wisdom, in law, in politics, in the art of the _filid_, and in druidism, while he brings various things from the world of the gods[ ]. in any case the celts paid divine honours to heroes, living or dead,[ ] and cúchulainn, god or ideal hero, may have been the subject of a cult. this lends point to the theory of m. d'arbois that cúchulainn and conall cernach are the equivalents of castor and pollux, the dioscuri, said by diodorus to be worshipped among the celts near the ocean.[ ] cúchulainn, like pollux, was son of a god, and was nursed, according to some accounts, by findchoém, mother of conall,[ ] just as leda was mother of castor as well as of pollux. but, on the other hand, cúchulainn, unlike pollux, was mortal. m. d'arbois then identifies the two pairs of heroes with certain figures on an altar at cluny. these are castor and pollux; cernunnos and smertullos. he equates castor with cernunnos, and pollux with smertullos. smertullos is cúchulainn, and the name is explained from an incident in the _táin_, in which the hero, reproached for his youth, puts on a false beard before attacking morrigan in her form as an eel. this is expressed by _smérthain_, "to attach", and is thus connected with and gave rise to the name smertullos. on the altar smertullos is attacking an eel or serpent. hence pollux is smertullos-cúchulainn.[ ] again, the name cernunnos signifies "the horned one," from _cernu_, "horn," a word found in conall's epithet cernach. but this was not given him because he was horned, but because of the angular shape of his head, the angle (_cern_) being the result of a blow.[ ] the epithet may mean "victorious."[ ] on the whole, the theory is more ingenious than convincing, and we have no proof that the figures of castor and pollux on the altar were duplicates of the celtic pair. cernunnos was an underworld god, and conall has no trace of such a character. m. d'arbois also traces the saga in gaul in the fact that on the menhir of kervadel mercury is figured with a child, mercury, in his opinion, being lug, and the child cúchulainn.[ ] on another altar are depicted ( ) a woodman, esus, cutting down a tree, and ( ) a bull on which are perched three birds--tarvos trigaranos. the two subjects, as m. reinach points out, are combined on another altar at trèves, on which a woodman is cutting down a tree in which are perched three birds, while a bull's head appears in the branches.[ ] these represent, according to m. d'arbois, incidents of the _táin_--the cutting down of trees by cúchulainn and placing them in the way of his enemies, and the warning of the bull by morrigan in the bird form which she shared with her sisters badb and macha.[ ] why, then, is cúchulainn called esus? "esus" comes from a root which gives words meaning "rapid motion," "anger," "strength"--all shown by the hero.[ ] the altars were found in the land of the belgic treveri, and some belgic tribes may have passed into britain and ireland carrying the esus-cúchulainn legend there in the second century b.c., e.g. the setantii, dwelling by the mersey, and bearing a name similar to that of the hero in his childhood--setanta (_setantios_) as well as the menapii and brigantes, located in ireland by ptolemy.[ ] in other words, the divine esus, with his surname smertullos, was called in ireland setanta, after the setantii, and at a later date, cúchulainn. the princely name donnotaurus resembles _dond tarb_, the "brown bull" of the saga, and also suggests its presence in gaul, while the name [greek: dêiotaros], perhaps the equivalent of _de[^u]io-taruos_, "divine bull," is found in galatia.[ ] thus the main elements of the saga may have been known to the continental celts before it was localised in ireland,[ ] and, it may be added, if it was brought there by gallo-british tribes, this might account for the greater popularity of the native, possibly pre-celtic, fionn saga among the folk, as well as for the finer literary quality of the cúchulainn saga. but the identification of esus with cúchulainn rests on slight grounds; the names esus and smertullos are not found in ireland, and the gaulish esus, worshipped with human sacrifice, has little affinity with the hero, unless his deeds of slaughter are reminiscent of such rites. it is possible, however, that the episode of the _táin_ came from a myth explaining ritual acts. this myth may have been the subject of the bas-reliefs, carried to ireland, and there worked into the saga. the folk-versions of the saga, though resembling the literary versions, are less elaborate and generally wilder, and perhaps represent its primitive form.[ ] the greatest differences are found in versions of the _táin_ and of cúchulainn's death, which, separate in the saga, are parts of one folk-tale, the death occurring during the fighting over the bull. the bull is his property, and medb sends garbh mac stairn to take it from him. he pretends to be a child, goes to bed, and tricks garbh, who goes off to get the bull. cúchulainn arrives before him and personates the herdsman. each seizes a horn, and the bull is torn in two.[ ] does this represent the primitive form of the _táin_, and, further, were the bull and cúchulainn once one and the same--a bull, the incarnation of a god or vegetation spirit, being later made anthropomorphic--a hero-god whose property or symbol was a bull? instances of this process are not unknown among the celts.[ ] in india, indra was a bull and a divine youth, in greece there was the bull-dionysos, and among the celts the name of the divine bull was borne by kings.[ ] in the saga morrigan is friendly to the bull, but fights for medb; but she is now friendly, now hostile to cúchulainn, finally, however, trying to avert his doom. if he had once been the bull, her friendliness would not be quite forgotten, once he became human and separate from the bull. when she first met cúchulainn she had a cow on whom the brown bull was to beget a calf, and she told the hero that "so long as the calf which is in this cow's body is a yearling, it is up to that time that thou art in life; and it is this that will lead to the _táin_."[ ] this suggests that the hero was to die in the battle, but it shows that the brown bull's calf is bound up his life. the bull was a reincarnation of a divine swineherd, and if, as in the case of cúchulainn, "his rebirth could only be of himself,"[ ] the calf was simply a duplicate of the bull, and, as it was bound up with the hero's life, bull and hero may well have been one. the life or soul was in the calf, and, as in all such cases, the owner of the soul and that in which it is hidden are practically identical. cúchulainn's "distortion" might then be explained as representing the bull's fury in fight, and the folk-tales would be popular forms of an old myth explaining ritual in which a bull, the incarnation of a tree or vegetation spirit, was slain, and the sacred tree cut down and consumed, as in celtic agricultural ritual. this would be the myth represented on the bas-reliefs, and in the ritual the bull would be slain, rent, and eaten by his worshippers. why, then, should cúchulainn rend the bull? in the later stages of such rites the animal was slain, not so much as a divine incarnation as a sacrifice to the god once incarnated in him. and when a god was thus separated from his animal form, myths often arose telling how he himself had slain the animal.[ ] in the case of cúchulainn and the bull, the god represented by the bull became separate from it, became anthropomorphic, and in that form was associated with or actually was the hero cúchulainn. bull sacrifices were common among the celts with whom the bull had been a divine animal.[ ] possibly a further echo of this myth and ritual is to be found in the folk-belief that s. martin was cut up and eaten in the form of an ox--the god incarnate in the animal being associated with a saint.[ ] thus the literary versions of the _táin_, departing from the hypothetical primitive versions, kept the bull as the central figure, but introduced a rival bull, and described its death differently, while both bulls are said to be reincarnations of divine swine-herds.[ ] the idea of a fight for a bull is borrowed from actual custom, and thus the old form of the story was further distorted. the cúchulainn saga is more coherent than the fionn saga, because it possesses one central incident. the "canon" of the saga was closed at an early date, while that of fionn has practically never been closed, mainly because it has been more a saga of the folk than that of cúchulainn. in some respects the two may have been rivals, for if the cúchulainn saga was introduced by conquerors from britain or gaul, it would not be looked on with favour by the folk. or if it is the saga of ulster as opposed to that of leinster, rivalry would again ensue. the fionn saga lives more in the hearts of the people, though it sometimes borrows from the other. this borrowing, however, is less than some critics, e.g. zimmer, maintain. many of the likenesses are the result of the fact that wherever a hero exists a common stock of incidents becomes his. hence there is much similarity in all sagas wherever found. footnotes: [ ] _it_ i. ; nutt-meyer, ii. f.; windisch, _táin_, ; l. duvau, "la legende de la conception de cúchulainn," _rc_ ix. f. [ ] windisch, _táin_, f. for a similar reason finnchad was called cú cerca, "the hound of cerc" (_it_ iii. ). [ ] for the boyish exploits, see windisch, _táin_, f. [ ] _rc_ vii. ; windisch, _táin_, . macha is a granddaughter of ler, but elsewhere she is called mider's daughter (_rc_ xvi. ). [ ] rh[^y]s, _cfl_ ii. ; westermarck, _hist. of human marriage_, ch. . [ ] miss hull, _folk-lore_, xii. , citing instances from jevons, _hist. of religion_, . [ ] windisch, _it_ ii. . [ ] windisch, , , ; cf. _it_ iii. ; miss hull, f.; rh[^y]s, _hl_ . [ ] _ll_ _a_; _rc_ iii. . [ ] windisch, . [ ] _rc_ iii. f. [ ] ibid. . [ ] crowe, _jour. kilkenny arch. soc._ - , f. [ ] _ll_ _a_; o'curry, _ms. mat_, . [ ] _ll_ _a_. see my _childhood of fiction_, ch. . [ ] miss hull, lxxvi. [ ] "da derga's hostel," _rc_ xxii. ; rh[^y]s, _hl_ . [ ] _ll_ _a_; rh[^y]s, ; ingcel the one-eyed has also many pupils (_rc_ xxii. ). [ ] miss hull, lxiii. [ ] _rc_ viii. . [ ] _ll_ _b_; miss hull, lxii. [ ] other celtic heroes undergo this distortion, which resembles the scandinavian warrior rage followed by languor, as in the case of cúchulainn. [ ] miss hull, p. lxvi. [ ] irish saints, standing neck deep in freezing water, made it hot. [ ] _it_ i. ; d'arbois, v. ; miss hull, lxvi. [ ] _hl_ . [ ] see meyer, _rc xi_. ; windisch, _it_ i. , . though _richis_ means "charcoal," it is also glossed "flame," hence it could only be glowing charcoal, without any idea of darkness. [ ] _hl_ . [ ] _it_ i. . [ ] _arch. rev._ i. f.; _it_ i. ; see p. , _infra_. [ ] see p. , _infra_. [ ] diod. siculus, iv. . [ ] _it_ iii. . [ ] _les celtes_, f. formerly m. d'arbois identified smertullos with lug, ii. ; holder, i. , . for the incident of the beard, see windisch, _táin_, . [ ] _it_ iii. . [ ] _it_ i. . [ ] _rc_ xxvii. f. [ ] _rc_ xviii. . [ ] _les celtes_, ; _rc_ xix. . [ ] d'arbois, _rc_ xx. . [ ] d'arbois, _rc_ xxvii. ; _les celtes_, . [ ] _les celtes_, ; cæsar, vi. . [ ] in contradiction to this, m. d'arbois elsewhere thinks that druids from britain may have taught the cúchulainn legend in gaul (_rc_ xxvii. ). [ ] see versions in _book of the dean of lismore_; _cm_ xiii.; campbell, _the fians_, f. [ ] _cm_ xiii. , . the same story is told of fionn, _ibid._ . see also ballad versions in campbell, _lf_ f. [ ] see p. , _infra_. [ ] a galatian king was called brogitaros, probably a form of _brogitaruos_, "bull of the province," a title borne by conchobar, _tarb in chóicid_ (_it_ i. ). this with the epithets applied to heroes in the _triads_, "bull-phantom," "prince bull of combat" (loth, ii. , ), may be an appellative denoting great strength. [ ] _it_ ii. f.; d'arbois, _les druides_, . [ ] miss hull, . [ ] see p. , _infra_. [ ] see p. , _infra_. [ ] fitzgerald, _rc_ vi. . [ ] see p. , _infra_. chapter viii. the fionn saga. the most prominent characters in the fionn saga, after the death of fionn's father cumal, are fionn, his son oisin, his grandson oscar, his nephew diarmaid with his _ball-seire_, or "beauty-spot," which no woman could resist; fergus famed for wisdom and eloquence; caoilte mac ronan, the swift; conan, the comic character of the saga; goll mac morna, the slayer of cumal, but later the devoted friend of fionn, besides a host of less important personages. their doings, like those of the heroes of saga and epos everywhere, are mainly hunting, fighting, and love-making. they embody much of the celtic character--vivacity, valour, kindness, tenderness, as well as boastfulness and fiery temper. though dating from pagan times, the saga throws little light upon pagan beliefs, but reveals much concerning the manners of the period. here, as always in early celtdom, woman is more than a mere chattel, and occupies a comparatively high place. the various parts of the saga, like those of the finnish _kalevala_, always existed separately, never as one complete epos, though always bearing a certain relation to each other. lonnrot, in finland, was able, by adding a few connecting links of his own, to give unity to the _kalevala_, and had macpherson been content to do this for the fionn saga, instead of inventing, transforming, and serving up the whole in the manner of the sentimental eighteenth century, what a boon would he have conferred on celtic literature. the various parts of the saga belong to different centuries and come from different authors, all, however, imbued with the spirit of the fionn tradition. a date cannot be given to the beginnings of the saga, and additions have been made to it even down to the eighteenth century, michael comyn's poem of oisin in tir na n-og being as genuine a part of it as any of the earlier pieces. its contents are in part written, but much more oral. much of it is in prose, and there is a large poetic literature of the ballad kind, as well as _märchen_ of the universal stock made purely celtic, with fionn and the rest of the heroic band as protagonists. the saga embodies celtic ideals and hopes; it was the literature of the celtic folk on which was spent all the riches of the celtic imagination; a world of dream and fancy into which they could enter at all times and disport themselves. yet, in spite of its immense variety, the saga preserves a certain unity, and it is provided with a definite framework, recounting the origin of the heroes, the great events in which they were concerned, their deaths or final appearances, and the breaking up of the fionn band. the historic view of the fians is taken by the annalists, by keating, o'curry, dr. joyce, and dr. douglas hyde.[ ] according to this view, they were a species of militia maintained by the irish kings for the support of the throne and the defence of the country. from samhain to beltane they were quartered on the people, and from beltane to samhain they lived by hunting. how far the people welcomed this billeting, we are not told. their method of cooking the game which they hunted was one well known to all primitive peoples. holes were dug in the ground; in them red-hot stones were placed, and on the stones was laid venison wrapped in sedge. all was then covered over, and in due time the meat was done to a turn. meanwhile the heroes engaged in an elaborate toilette before sitting down to eat. their beds were composed of alternate layers of brushwood, moss, and rushes. the fians were divided into _catha_ of three thousand men, each with its commander, and officers to each hundred, each fifty, and each nine, a system not unlike that of the ancient peruvians. each candidate for admission to the band had to undergo the most trying ordeals, rivalling in severity those of the american indians, and not improbably genuine though exaggerated reminiscences of actual tests of endurance and agility. once admitted he had to observe certain _geasa_ or "tabus," e.g. not to choose his wife for her dowry like other celts, but solely for her good manners, not to offer violence to a woman, not to flee when attacked before less than nine warriors, and the like. all this may represent some genuine tradition with respect to a warrior band, with many exaggerations in details and numbers. some of its outstanding heroes may have had names derived from or corresponding to those of the heroes of an existing saga. but as time went on they became as unhistorical as their ideal prototypes; round their names crystallised floating myths and tales; things which had been told of the saga heroes were told of them; their names were given to the personages of existing folk-tales. this might explain the great divergence between the "historical" and the romantic aspects of the saga as it now exists. yet we cannot fail to see that what is claimed as historical is full of exaggeration, and, in spite of the pleading of dr. hyde and other patriots, little historic fact can be found in it. even if this exists, it is the least important part of the saga. what is important is that part--nine-tenths of the whole--which "is not true because it cannot be true." it belongs to the region of the supernatural and the unreal. but personages, nine-tenths of whose actions belong to this region, must bear the same character themselves, and for that reason are all the more interesting, especially when we remember that the celts firmly believed in them and in their exploits. a fionn myth arose as all myths do, increasing as time went on, and the historical nucleus, if it ever existed, was swamped and lost. throughout the saga the fians are more than mere mortals, even in those very parts which are claimed as historical. they are giants; their story "bristles with the supernatural"; they are the ideal figures of celtic legend throwing their gigantic shadows upon the dim and misty background of the past. we must therefore be content to assume that whether personages called fionn, oisin, diarmaid, or conan, ever existed, what we know of them now is purely mythical. bearing in mind that they are the cherished heroes of popular fancy in ireland and the scottish highlands, we have now to inquire whether they were celtic in origin. we have seen that the celts were a conquering people in ireland, bringing with them their own religion and mythology, their own sagas and tales reflected now in the mythological and cúchulainn cycles, which found a local habitation in ireland. cúchulainn was the hero of a saga which flourished more among the aristocratic and lettered classes than among the folk, and there are few popular tales about him. but it is among the folk that the fionn saga has always been popular, and for every peasant who could tell a story of cúchulainn a thousand could tell one of fionn. conquerors often adopt beliefs, traditions, and customs of the aboriginal folk, after hostilities have ceased, and if the pre-celtic people had a popular hero and a saga concerning him, it is possible that in time it was accepted by the celts or by the lower classes among them. but in the process it must have been completely celticised, like the aborigines themselves; to its heroes were given celtic names, or they may have been associated with existing celtic personages like cumal, and the whole saga was in time adapted to the conceptions and legendary history of the celts. thus we might account for the fact that it has so largely remained without admixture with the mythological and cúchulainn cycles, though its heroes are brought into relation with the older gods. thus also we might account for its popularity as compared with the cúchulainn saga among the peasantry in whose veins must flow so much of the aboriginal blood both in ireland and the highlands. in other words, it was the saga of a non-celtic people occupying both ireland and scotland. if celts from western europe occupied the west of scotland at an early date, they may have been so few in number that their own saga or sagas died out. or if the celtic occupation of the west highlands originated first from ireland, the irish may have been unable to impose their cúchulainn saga there, or if they themselves had already adopted the fionn saga and found it again in the highlands, they would but be the more attached to what was already localised there. this would cut the ground from the theory that the fionn saga was brought to scotland from ireland, and it would account for its popularity in the highlands, as well as for the fact that many fionn stories are attached to highland as well as to irish localities, while many place-names in both countries have a fian origin. finally, the theory would explain the existence of so many _märchen_ about fionn and his men, so few about cúchulainn. returning to the theory of the historic aspect of the fians, it should be noted that, while, when seen through the eyes of the annalists, the saga belongs to a definite historical period, when viewed by itself it belongs to a mythic age, and though the fians are regarded as champions of ireland, their foes are usually of a supernatural kind, and they themselves move in a magic atmosphere. they are also brought into connection with the unhistoric tuatha dé danann; they fight with them or for them; they have amours with or wed their women; and some of the gods even become members of the fian band. diarmaid was the darling of the gods oengus and manannan, and in his direst straits was assisted by the former. in all this we are in the wonderland of myth, not the _terra firma_ of history. there is a certain resemblance between the cúchulainn and fionn sagas, but no more than that which obtains between all sagas everywhere. both contain similar incidents, but these are the stock episodes of universal saga belief, fitted to the personages of individual sagas. hence we need not suppose with professor windisch that the mythic incidents of the fionn saga are derived from the cúchulainn cycle. the personages against whom fionn and his men fight show the mythic nature of the saga. as champions of leinster they fight the men of ulster and connaught, but they also war against oversea invaders--the lochlanners. while lochlann may mean any land beyond the sea, like the welsh _llychlyn_ it probably meant "the fabulous land beneath the lakes or the waves of the sea," or simply the abode of hostile, supernatural beings. lochlanners would thus be counterparts of the fomorians, and the conflicts of the fians with them would reflect old myths. but with the norse invasions, the norsemen became the true lochlanners, against whom fionn and his men fight as charlemagne fought muhammadans--a sheer impossibility. professor zimmer, however, supposes that the fionn saga took shape during the norse occupation from the ninth century onwards. fionn is half norse, half irish, and equivalent to caittil find, who commanded the apostate irish in the ninth century, while oisin and oscar are the norse asvin and asgeirr. but it is difficult to understand why one who was half a norseman should become the chosen hero of the celts in the very age in which norsemen were their bitter enemies, and why fionn, if of norse origin, fights against lochlanners, i.e. norsemen. it may also be inquired why the borrowing should have affected the saga only, not the myths of the gods. no other celtic scholar has given the slightest support to this brilliant but audacious theory. on the other hand, if the saga has norse affinities, and if it is, in origin, pre-celtic, these may be sought in an earlier connection of ireland with scandinavia in the early bronze age. ireland had a flourishing civilisation then, and exported beautiful gold ornaments to scandinavia, where they are still found in bronze age deposits.[ ] this flourishing civilisation was overwhelmed by the invasion of the celtic barbarians. but if the scandinavians borrowed gold and artistic decorations from ireland, and if the fionn saga or part of it was already in existence, why should they not have borrowed some of its incidents, or why, on the other hand, should not some episodes have found their way from the north to ireland? we should also consider, however, that similar incidents may have been evolved in both countries on similar lines and quite independently. the various contents of the saga can only be alluded to in the briefest manner. fionn's birth-story belongs to the well-known "expulsion and return" formula, applied to so many heroes of saga and folk-tale, but highly elaborated in his case at the hands of the annalists. thus his father cumal, uncle of conn the hundred fighter, - a.d., wished to wed muirne, daughter of conn's chief druid, tadg. tadg refused, knowing that through this marriage he would lose his ancestral seat. cumal seized muirne and married her, and the king, on tadg's appeal, sent an army against him. cumal was slain; muirne fled to his sister, and gave birth to demni, afterwards known as fionn. perhaps in accordance with old matriarchal usage, fionn's descent through his mother is emphasised, while he is related to the ancient gods, tadg being son of nuada. this at once points to the mythical aspect of the saga. cumal may be identical with the god camulos. in a short time, fionn, now a marauder and an outlaw, appeared at conn's court, and that same night slew one of the tuatha déa, who came yearly and destroyed the palace. for this he received his rightful heritage--the leadership of the fians, formerly commanded by cumal.[ ] another incident of fionn's youth tells how he obtained his "thumb of knowledge." the eating of certain "salmon of knowledge" was believed to give inspiration, an idea perhaps derived from earlier totemistic beliefs. the bard finnéces, having caught one of the coveted salmon, set his pupil fionn to cook it, forbidding him to taste it. but as he was turning the fish fionn burnt his thumb and thrust it into his mouth, thus receiving the gift of inspiration. hereafter he had only to suck his thumb in order to obtain secret information.[ ] in another story the inspiration is already in his thumb, as samson's strength was in his hair, but the power is also partly in his tooth, under which, after ritual preparation, he has to place his thumb and chew it.[ ] fionn had many wives and sweethearts, one of them, saar, being mother of oisin. saar was turned into a fawn by a druid, and fled from fionn's house. long after he found a beast-child in the forest and recognised him as his son. he nourished him until his beast nature disappeared, and called him oisin, "little fawn." round this birth legend many stories sprang up--a sure sign of its popularity.[ ] oisin's fame as a poet far excelled that of fionn, and he became the ideal bard of the gaels. by far the most passionate and tragic story of the saga is that of diarmaid and grainne, to whom fionn was betrothed. grainne put _geasa_ upon diarmaid to elope with her, and these he could not break. they fled, and for many days were pursued by fionn, who at last overtook them, but was forced by the fians to pardon the beloved hero. meanwhile fionn waited for his revenge. knowing that it was one of diarmaid's _geasa_ never to hunt a wild boar, he invited him to the chase of the boar of gulban. diarmaid slew it, and fionn then bade him measure its length with his foot. a bristle pierced his heel, and he fell down in agony, beseeching fionn to bring him water in his hand, for if he did this he would heal him. in spite of repeated appeals, fionn, after bringing the water, let it drip from his hands. diarmaid's brave soul passed away, and on fionn's character this dire blot was fixed for ever.[ ] other tales relate how several of the fians were spirited away to the land beyond the seas, how they were rescued, how diarmaid went to land under waves, and how fionn and his men were entrapped in a fairy palace. of greater importance are those which tell the end of the fian band. this, according to the annalists, was the result of their exactions and demands. fionn was told by his wife, a wise woman, never to drink out of a horn, but coming one day thirsty to a well, he forgot this tabu, and so brought the end near. he encountered the sons of uirgrenn, whom he had slain, and in the fight with them he fell.[ ] soon after were fought several battles, culminating in that of gabhra in which all but a few fians perished. among the survivors were oisin and caoilte, who lingered on until the coming of s. patrick. caoilte remained on earth, but oisin, whose mother was of the _síd_ folk, went to fairyland for a time, ultimately returning and joining s. patrick's company.[ ] but a different version is given in the eighteenth century poem of michael comyn, undoubtedly based on popular tales. oisin met the queen of tir na n-og and went with her to fairyland, where time passed as a dream until one day he stood on a stone against which she had warned him. he saw his native land and was filled with home-sickness. the queen tried to dissuade him, but in vain. then she gave him a horse, warning him not to set foot on irish soil. he came to ireland; and found it all changed. some puny people were trying in vain to raise a great stone, and begged the huge stranger to help them. he sprang from his horse and flung the stone from its resting-place. but when he turned, his horse was gone, and he had become a decrepit old man. soon after he met s. patrick and related the tale to him. of most of the tales preserved in twelfth to fifteenth century mss. it may be said that in essence they come down to us from a remote antiquity, like stars pulsing their clear light out of the hidden depths of space. many of them exist as folk-tales, often wild and weird in form, while some folk-tales have no literary parallels. some are _märchen_ with members of the fian band as heroes, and of these there are many european parallels. but it is not unlikely that, as in the case of the cúchulainn cycle, the folk versions may be truer to the original forms of the saga than the rounded and polished literary versions. whatever the fians were in origin--gods, mythic heroes, or actual personages--it is probable that a short _heldensage_ was formed in early times. this slowly expanded, new tales were added, and existing _märchen_ formulæ were freely made use of by making their heroes the heroes of the saga. then came the time when many of the tales were written down, while later they were adapted to a scheme of irish history, the heroes becoming warriors of a definite historic period, or perhaps connected with such warriors. but these heroes belonged to a timeless world, whose margins are "the shore of old romance," and it was as if they, who were not for an age but for all time, scorned to become the puppets of the page of history. the earliest evidence of the attitude of the ecclesiastical world to these heroes is found in the _agallamh na senorach_, or "colloquy of the ancients."[ ] this may have been composed in the thirteenth century, and its author knew scores of fionn legends. making use of the tradition that caoilte and oisin had met s. patrick, he makes caoilte relate many of the tales, usually in connection with some place-name of fian origin. the saint and his followers are amazed at the huge stature of the fians, but patrick asperges them with holy water, and hosts of demons flee from them. at each tale which caoilte tells, the saint says, "success and benediction, caoilte. all this is to us a recreation of spirit and of mind, were it only not a destruction of devotion and a dereliction of prayer." but presently his guardian angel appears, and bids him not only listen to the tales but cause them to be written down. he and his attendant clerics now lend a willing ear to the recital and encourage the narrator with their applause. finally, baptism is administered to caoilte and his men, and by patrick's intercessions caoilte's relations and fionn himself are brought out of hell. in this work the representatives of paganism are shown to be on terms of friendliness with the representatives of christianity. but in highland ballads collected in the sixteenth century by the dean of lismore, as well as in irish ballads found in mss. dating from the seventeenth century onwards, the saint is a sour and intolerant cleric, and the fians are equally intolerant and blasphemous pagans. there is no attempt at compromise; the saint rejoices that the fian band are in hell, and oisin throws contempt on the god of the shaven priests. but sometimes this contempt is mingled with humour and pathos. were the heroes of oisin's band now alive, scant work would be made of the monks' bells, books, and psalm-singing. it is true that the saint gives the weary old man hospitality, but oisin's eyes are blinded with tears as he thinks of the departed glories of the fians, and his ears are tormented "by jangling bells, droning psalms, and howling clerics." these ballads probably represent one main aspect of the attitude of the church to celtic paganism. how, then, did the more generous _colloquy_ come into being? we must note first that some of the ballads have a milder tone. oisin is urged to accept the faith, and he prays for salvation. probably these represent the beginning of a reaction in favour of the old heroes, dating from a time when the faith was well established. there was no danger of a pagan revival, and, provided the fians were christianised, it might be legitimate to represent them as heroic and noble. the _colloquy_ would represent the high-water mark of this reaction among the lettered classes, for among the folk, to judge by popular tales, the fians had never been regarded in other than a favourable light. the _colloquy_ re-established the dignity of the fian band in the eyes of official christianity. they are baptized or released from hell, and in their own nature they are virtuous and follow lofty ideals. "who or what was it that maintained you in life?" asks patrick. and caoilte gives the noble reply, "truth that was in our hearts, and strength in our arms, and fulfilment in our tongues." patrick says of fionn: "he was a king, a seer, a poet, a lord with a manifold and great train; our magician, our knowledgeable one, our soothsayer; all whatsoever he said was sweet with him. excessive, perchance, as ye deem my testimony of fionn, although ye hold that which i say to be overstrained, nevertheless, and by the king that is above me, he was three times better still." not only so, but caoilte maintains that fionn and his men were aware of the existence of the true god. they possessed the _anima naturaliter christiana_. the growing appreciation of a wider outlook on life, and possibly acquaintance with the romances of chivalry, made the composition of the _colloquy_ possible, but, again, it may represent a more generous conception of paganism existing from the time of the first encounter of christianity with it in ireland. the strife of creeds in ireland, the old order changing, giving place to new, had evidently impressed itself on the minds of celtic poets and romancers. it suggested itself to them as providing an excellent "situation"; hence we constantly hear of the meeting of gods, demigods, or heroes with the saints of the new era. frequently they bow before the cross, they are baptized and receive the christian verity, as in the _colloquy_ and in some documents of the cúchulainn cycle. probably no other european folk-literature so takes advantage of just this situation, this meeting of creeds, one old and ready to vanish away, the other with all the buoyant freshness of youth. was macpherson's a genuine celtic epic unearthed by him and by no one else? no mortal eye save his has ever seen the original, but no one who knows anything of the contents of the saga can deny that much of his work is based on materials collected by him. he knew some of the tales and ballads current among the folk, possibly also some of the irish ms. versions. he saw that there was a certain unity among them, and he saw that it was possible to make it more evident still. he fitted the floating incidents into an epic framework, adding, inventing, altering, and moulding the whole into an english style of his own. later he seems to have translated the whole into gaelic. he gave his version to the world, and found himself famous, but he gave it as the genuine translation of a genuine celtic epic. here was his craft; here he was the "charlatan of genius." his genius lay in producing an epic which people were willing to read, and in making them believe it to be not his work but that of the celtic heroic age. any one can write an epic, but few can write one which thousands will read, which men like chateaubriand, goethe, napoleon, byron, and coleridge will admire and love, and which will, as it were, crystallise the aspirations of an age weary with classical formalism. macpherson introduced his readers to a new world of heroic deeds, romantic adventure, deathless love, exquisite sentiments sentimentally expressed. he changed the rough warriors and beautiful but somewhat unabashed heroines of the saga into sentimental personages, who suited the taste of an age poised between the bewigged and powdered formalism of the eighteenth century, and the outburst of new ideals which was to follow. his _ossian_ is a cross between pope's _homer_ and byron's _childe harold_. his heroes and heroines are not on their native heath, and are uncertain whether to mince and strut with pope or to follow nature with rousseau's noble savages and saint pierre's paul and virginia. the time has gone when it was heresy to cast doubt upon the genuineness of macpherson's epic, but if any one is still doubtful, let him read it and then turn to the existing versions, ballads, and tales. he will find himself in a totally different atmosphere, and will recognise in the latter the true epic note--the warrior's rage and the warrior's generosity, dire cruelty yet infinite tenderness, wild lust yet also true love, a world of magic supernaturalism, but an exact copy of things as they were in that far-off age. the barbarism of the time is in these old tales--deeds which make one shiver, customs regarding the relations of the sexes now found only among savages, social and domestic arrangements which are somewhat lurid and disgusting. and yet, withal, the note of bravery, of passion, of authentic life is there; we are held in the grip of genuine manhood and womanhood. macpherson gives a picture of the ossianic age as he conceived it, an age of celtic history that "never was on sea or land." even his ghosts are un-celtic, misty and unsubstantial phantasms, unlike the embodied _revenants_ of the saga which are in agreement with the celtic belief that the soul assumed a body in the other world. macpherson makes fionn invariably successful, but in the saga tales he is often defeated. he mingles the cúchulainn and ossianic cycles, but these, save in a few casual instances, are quite distinct in the old literature. yet had not his poem been so great as it is, though so un-celtic, it could not have influenced all european literature. but those who care for genuine celtic literature, the product of a people who loved nature, romance, doughty deeds, the beauty of the world, the music of the sea and the birds, the mountains, valour in men, beauty in women, will find all these in the saga, whether in its literary or its popular forms. and through it all sounds the undertone of celtic pathos and melancholy, the distant echo "of old unhappy, far-off things and battles long ago." footnotes: [ ] see joyce, _ocr_ . [ ] montelius, _les temps préhistoriques_, , ; reinach, _rc_ xxi. . [ ] the popular versions of this early part of the saga differ much in detail, but follow the main outlines in much the same way. see curtin, _hti_ ; campbell, _lf_ f.; _wht_ iii. . [ ] in a widespread group of tales supernatural knowledge is obtained by eating part of some animal, usually a certain snake. in many of these tales the food is eaten by another person than he who obtained it, as in the case of fionn. cf. the welsh story of gwion, p. , and the scandinavian of sigurd, and other parallels in miss cox, _cinderella_, ; frazer, _arch. rev._ i. f. the story is thus a folk-tale formula applied to fionn, doubtless because it harmonised with celtic or pre-celtic totemistic ideas. but it is based on ancient ideas regarding the supernatural knowledge possessed by reptiles or fish, and among american indians, maoris, solomon islanders, and others there are figured representations of a man holding such an animal, its tongue being attached to his tongue. he is a _shaman_, and american indians believe that his inspiration comes from the tongue of a mysterious river otter, caught by him. see dall, _bureau of ethnol._ rd report; and miss buckland, _jour. anth. inst._ xxii. . [ ] _tos_ iv.; o'curry, _ms. mat._ ; joyce, _ocr_ , . [ ] for ballad versions see campbell, _lf_ . [ ] numerous ballad versions are given in campbell _lf_ f. the tale is localised in various parts of ireland and the highlands, many dolmens in ireland being known as diarmaid and grainne's beds. [ ] for an account differing from this annalistic version, see _zcp_ i. . [ ] o'grady, ii. . this, on the whole, agrees with the highland ballad version, _lf_ . [ ] _it_ iv.; o'grady, _silva gad._ text and translation. chapter ix. gods and men. though man usually makes his gods in his own image, they are unlike as well as like him. intermediate between them and man are ideal heroes whose parentage is partly divine, and who may themselves have been gods. one mark of the celtic gods is their great stature. no house could contain bran, and certain divine people of elysium who appeared to fionn had rings "as thick as a three-ox goad."[ ] even the fians are giants, and the skull of one of them could contain several men. the gods have also the attribute of invisibility, and are only seen by those to whom they wish to disclose themselves, or they have the power of concealing themselves in a magic mist. when they appear to mortals it is usually in mortal guise, sometimes in the form of a particular person, but they can also transform themselves into animal shapes, often that of birds. the animal names of certain divinities show that they had once been animals pure and simple, but when they became anthropomorphic, myths would arise telling how they had appeared to men in these animal shapes. this, in part, accounts for these transformation myths. the gods are also immortal, though in myth we hear of their deaths. the tuatha dé danann are "unfading," their "duration is perennial."[ ] this immortality is sometimes an inherent quality; sometimes it is the result of eating immortal food--manannan's swine, goibniu's feast of age and his immortal ale, or the apples of elysium. the stories telling of the deaths of the gods in the annalists may be based on old myths in which they were said to die, these myths being connected with ritual acts in which the human representatives of gods were slain. such rites were an inherent part of celtic religion. elsewhere the ritual of gods like osiris or adonis, based on their functions as gods of vegetation, was connected with elaborate myths telling of their death and revival. something akin to this may have occurred among the celts. the divinities often united with mortals. goddesses sought the love of heroes who were then sometimes numbered among the gods, and gods had amours with the daughters of men.[ ] frequently the heroes of the sagas are children of a god or goddess and a mortal,[ ] and this divine parentage was firmly believed in by the celts, since personal names formed of a divine name and _-genos_ or _-gnatos_, "born of," "son of," are found in inscriptions over the whole celtic area, or in celtic documents--boduogenos, camulognata, etc. those who first bore these names were believed to be of divine descent on one side. spirits of nature or the elements of nature personified might also be parents of mortals, as a name like morgen, from _morigenos_, "son of the sea," and many others suggest. for this and for other reasons the gods frequently interfere in human affairs, assisting their children or their favourites. or, again, they seek the aid of mortals or of the heroes of the sagas in their conflicts or in time of distress, as when morrigan besought healing from cúchulainn. as in the case of early greek and roman kings, celtic kings who bore divine names were probably believed to be representatives or incarnations of gods. perhaps this explains why a chief of the boii called himself a god and was revered after his death, and why the gauls so readily accepted the divinity of augustus. irish kings bear divine names, and of these nuada occurs frequently, one king, irél fáith, being identified with nuada airgetlam, while in one text _nuadat_ is glossed _in ríg_, "of the king," as if _nuada_ had come to be a title meaning "king." welsh kings bear the name nudd (nodons), and both the actual and the mythic leader brennus took their name from the god bran. king conchobar is called _día talmaide_, "a terrestrial god." if kings were thought to be god-men like the pharaohs, this might account for the frequency of tales about divine fatherhood or reincarnation, while it would also explain the numerous _geasa_ which irish kings must observe, unlike ordinary mortals. prosperity was connected with their observance, though this prosperity was later thought to depend on the king's goodness. the nature of the prosperity--mild seasons, abundant crops, fruit, fish, and cattle--shows that the king was associated with fertility, like the gods of growth.[ ] hence they had probably been once regarded as incarnations of such gods. wherever divine kings are found, fertility is bound up with them and with the due observance of their tabus. to prevent misfortune to the land, they are slain before they grow old and weak, and their vigour passes on to their successors. their death benefits their people.[ ] but frequently the king might reign as long as he could hold his own against all comers, or, again, a slave or criminal was for a time treated as a mock king, and slain as the divine king's substitute. scattered hints in irish literature and in folk survivals show that some such course as this had been pursued by the celts with regard to their divine kings, as it was also elsewhere.[ ] it is not impossible that some at least of the druids stood in a similar relation to the gods. kings and priests were probably at first not differentiated. in galatia twelve "tetrarchs" met annually with three hundred assistants at drunemeton as the great national council.[ ] this council at a consecrated place (_nemeton_), its likeness to the annual druidic gathering in gaul, and the possibility that _dru_- has some connection with the name "druid," point to a religious as well as political aspect of this council. the "tetrarchs" may have been a kind of priest-kings; they had the kingly prerogative of acting as judges as had the druids of gaul. the wife of one of them was a priestess,[ ] the office being hereditary in her family, and it may have been necessary that her husband should also be a priest. one tetrarch, deiotarus, "divine bull," was skilled in augury, and the priest-kingship of pessinus was conferred on certain celts in the second century b.c., as if the double office were already a celtic institution.[ ] mythic celtic kings consulted the gods without any priestly intervention, and queen boudicca had priestly functions.[ ] without giving these hints undue emphasis, we may suppose that the differentiation of the two offices would not be simultaneous over the celtic area. but when it did take effect priests would probably lay claim to the prerogatives of the priest-king as incarnate god. kings were not likely to give these up, and where they retained them priests would be content with seeing that the tabus and ritual and the slaying of the mock king were duly observed. irish kings were perhaps still regarded as gods, though certain druids may have been divine priests, since they called themselves creators of the universe, and both continental and irish druids claimed superiority to kings. further, the name [greek: semnotheoi], applied along with the name "druids" to celtic priests, though its meaning is obscure, points to divine pretensions on their part.[ ] the incarnate god was probably representative of a god or spirit of earth, growth, or vegetation, represented also by a tree. a symbolic branch of such a tree was borne by kings, and perhaps by druids, who used oak branches in their rites.[ ] king and tree would be connected, the king's life being bound up with that of the tree, and perhaps at one time both perished together. but as kings were represented by a substitute, so the sacred tree, regarded as too sacred to be cut down, may also have had its _succedaneum_. the irish _bile_ or sacred tree, connected with the kings, must not be touched by any impious hand, and it was sacrilege to cut it down.[ ] probably before cutting down the tree a branch or something growing upon it, e.g. mistletoe, had to be cut, or the king's symbolic branch secured before he could be slain. this may explain pliny's account of the mistletoe rite. the mistletoe or branch was the soul of the tree, and also contained the life of the divine representative. it must be plucked before the tree could be cut down or the victim slain. hypothetical as this may be, pliny's account is incomplete, or he is relating something of which all the details were not known to him. the rite must have had some other purpose than that of the magico-medical use of the mistletoe which he describes, and though he says nothing of cutting down the tree or slaying a human victim, it is not unlikely that, as human sacrifice had been prohibited in his time, the oxen which were slain during the rite took the place of the latter. later romantic tales suggest that, before slaying some personage, the mythico-romantic survivor of a divine priest or king, a branch carried by him had to be captured by his assailant, or plucked from the tree which he defended.[ ] these may point to an old belief in tree and king as divine representatives, and to a ritual like that associated with the priest of nemi. the divine tree became the mystic tree of elysium, with gold and silver branches and marvellous fruits. armed with such a branch, the gift of one of its people, mortals might penetrate unhindered to the divine land. perhaps they may be regarded as romantic forms of the old divine kings with the branch of the divine tree. if in early times the spirit of vegetation was feminine, her representative would be a woman, probably slain at recurring festivals by the female worshippers. this would explain the slaying of one of their number at a festival by namnite women. but when male spirits or gods superseded goddesses, the divine priest-king would take the place of the female representative. on the other hand, just as the goddess became the consort of the god, a female representative would continue as the divine bride in the ritual of the sacred marriage, the may queen of later folk-custom. sporadically, too, conservatism would retain female cults with female divine incarnations, as is seen by the presence of the may queen alone in certain folk-survivals, and by many celtic rituals from which men were excluded.[ ] footnotes: [ ] o'grady, ii. . [ ] ibid. ii. . cf. cæsar, vi. , "the immortal gods" of gaul. [ ] cf. ch. xxiv.; o'grady, ii. , ; nutt-meyer, i. . [ ] leahy, ii. . [ ] _it_ iii. ; _trip. life_, ; _annals of the four masters_, a.d. ; _rc_ xxii. , . chiefs as well as kings probably influenced fertility. a curious survival of this is found in the belief that herrings abounded in dunvegan loch when macleod arrived at his castle there, and in the desire of the people in skye during the potato famine that his fairy banner should be waved. [ ] an echo of this may underlie the words attributed to king ailill, "if i am slain, it will be the redemption of many" (o'grady, ii. ). [ ] see frazer, _kingship_; cook, _folk-lore_, , "the european sky-god." mr. cook gives ample evidence for the existence of celtic incarnate gods. with his main conclusions i agree, though some of his inferences seem far-fetched. the divine king was, in his view, a sky-god; he was more likely to have been the representative of a god or spirit of growth or vegetation. [ ] strabo, xii. . . [ ] plutarch, _de virt. mul._ . [ ] cicero, _de div._ i. , ii. ; strabo, xii. . ; stachelin, _gesch. der kleinasiat. galater._ [ ] livy, v. ; dio cass. lxii. . [ ] _ancient laws of ireland_, i. ; diog. laert. i. proem ; see p. , _infra_. [ ] pliny, xvi. . [ ] p. , _infra_. [ ] cf. the tales of gawain and the green knight with his holly bough, and of gawain's attempting to pluck the bough of a tree guarded by gramoplanz (weston, _legend of sir gawain_, , ). cf. also the tale of diarmaid's attacking the defender of a tree to obtain its fruit, and the subsequent slaughter of each man who attacks the hero hidden in its branches (_tos_ vol. iii.). cf. cook, _folk-lore_, xvii. . [ ] see chap. xviii. chapter x. the cult of the dead. the custom of burying grave-goods with the dead, or slaying wife or slaves on the tomb, does not necessarily point to a cult of the dead, yet when such practices survive over a long period they assume the form of a cult. these customs flourished among the celts, and, taken in connection with the reverence for the sepulchres of the dead, they point to a worship of ancestral spirits as well as of great departed heroes. heads of the slain were offered to the "strong shades"--the ghosts of tribal heroes whose praises were sung by bards.[ ] when such heads were placed on houses, they may have been devoted to the family ghosts. the honour in which mythic or real heroes were held may point to an actual cult, the hero being worshipped when dead, while he still continued his guardianship of the tribe. we know also that the tomb of king cottius in the alps was a sacred place, that irish kings were often inaugurated on ancestral burial cairns, and that irish gods were associated with barrows of the dead.[ ] the cult of the dead culminated at the family hearth, around which the dead were even buried, as among the aeduii; this latter custom may have been general.[ ] in any case the belief in the presence of ancestral ghosts around the hearth was widespread, as existing superstitions show. in brittany the dead seek warmth at the hearth by night, and a feast is spread for them on all souls' eve, or crumbs are left for them after a family gathering.[ ] but generally the family ghost has become a brownie, lutin, or pooka, haunting the hearth and doing the household work.[ ] fairy corresponds in all respects to old ancestral ghost, and the one has succeeded to the place of the other, while the fairy is even said to be the ghost of a dead person.[ ] certain archæological remains have also a connection with this ancient cult. among celtic remains in gaul are found andirons of clay, ornamented with a ram's head. m. dechelette sees in this "the symbol of sacrifice offered to the souls of ancestors on the altar of the hearth."[ ] the ram was already associated as a sacrificial animal with the cult of fire on the hearth, and by an easy transition it was connected with the cult of the dead there. it is found as an emblem on ancient tombs, and the domestic lar was purified by the immolation of a ram.[ ] figurines of a ram have been found in gaulish tombs, and it is associated with the god of the underworld.[ ] the ram of the andirons was thus a permanent representative of the victim offered in the cult of the dead. a mutilated inscription on one of them may stand for _laribus augustis_, and certain markings on others may represent the garlands twined round the victim.[ ] serpents with rams' heads occur on the monuments of the underworld god. the serpent was a chthonian god or the emblem of such a god, and it may have been thought appropriate to give it the head of an animal associated with the cult of the dead. the dead were also fed at the grave or in the house. thus cups were placed in the recess of a well in the churchyard of kilranelagh by those interring a child under five, and the ghost of the child was supposed to supply the other spirits with water from these cups.[ ] in ireland, after a death, food is placed out for the spirits, or, at a burial, nuts are placed in the coffin.[ ] in some parts of france, milk is poured out on the grave, and both in brittany and in scotland the dead are supposed to partake of the funeral feast.[ ] these are survivals from pagan times and correspond to the rites in use among those who still worship ancestors. in celtic districts a cairn or a cross is placed over the spot where a violent or accidental death has occurred, the purpose being to appease the ghost, and a stone is often added to the cairn by all passers-by.[ ] festivals were held in ireland on the anniversaries of the death of kings or chiefs, and these were also utilised for purposes of trade, pleasure, or politics. they sometimes occurred on the great festivals, e.g. lugnasad and samhain, and were occasionally held at the great burial-places.[ ] thus the gathering at taillti on lugnasad was said to have been founded by lug in memory of his foster-mother, tailtiu, and the leinstermen met at carman on the same day to commemorate king garman, or in a variant account, a woman called carman. she and her sons had tried to blight the corn of the tuatha dé danann, but the sons were driven off and she died of grief, begging that a fair should always be held in her name, and promising abundance of milk, fruit, and fish for its observance.[ ] these may be ætiological myths explaining the origin of these festivals on the analogy of funeral festivals, but more likely, since lugnasad was a harvest festival, they are connected with the custom of slaying a representative of the corn-spirit. the festival would become a commemoration of all such victims, but when the custom itself had ceased it would be associated with one particular personage, the corn-goddess regarded as a mortal. this would be the case where the victim was a woman, but where a male was slain, the analogy of the slaying of the divine king or his _succedaneum_ would lead to the festivals being regarded as commemorative of a king, e.g. garman. this agrees with the statement that observance of the festival produced plenty; non-observance, dearth. the victims were slain to obtain plenty, and the festival would also commemorate those who had died for this good cause, while it would also appease their ghosts should these be angry at their violent deaths. certain of the dead were thus commemorated at lugnasad, a festival of fertility. both the corn-spirit or divinity slain in the reaping of the corn, and the human victims, were appeased by its observance.[ ] the legend of carman makes her hostile to the corn--a curious way of regarding a corn-goddess. but we have already seen that gods of fertility were sometimes thought of as causing blight, and in folk-belief the corn-spirit is occasionally believed to be dangerous. such inversions occur wherever revolutions in religion take place. the great commemoration of the dead was held on samhain eve, a festival intended to aid the dying powers of vegetation, whose life, however, was still manifested in evergreen shrubs, in the mistletoe, in the sheaf of corn from last harvest--the abode of the corn-spirit.[ ] probably, also, human representatives of the vegetation or corn-spirit were slain, and this may have suggested the belief in the presence of their ghosts at this festival. or the festival being held at the time of the death of vegetation, the dead would naturally be commemorated then. or, as in scandinavia, they may have been held to have an influence on fertility, as an extension of the belief that certain slain persons represented spirits of fertility, or because trees and plants growing on the barrows of the dead were thought to be tenanted by their spirits.[ ] in scandinavia, the dead were associated with female spirits or _fylgjur_, identified with the _disir_, a kind of earth-goddesses, living in hollow hills.[ ] the nearest celtic analogy to these is the _matres_, goddesses of fertility. bede says that christmas eve was called _modranicht_, "mothers' night,"[ ] and as many of the rites of samhain were transferred to yule, the former date of _modranicht_ may have been samhain, just as the scandinavian _disablot_, held in november, was a festival of the _disir_ and of the dead.[ ] it has been seen that the celtic earth-god was lord of the dead, and that he probably took the place of an earth-goddess or goddesses, to whom the _matres_ certainly correspond. hence the connection of the dead with female earth-spirits would be explained. mother earth had received the dead before her place was taken by the celtic dispater. hence the time of earth's decay was the season when the dead, her children, would be commemorated. whatever be the reason, celts, teutons, and others have commemorated the dead at the beginning of winter, which was the beginning of a new year, while a similar festival of the dead at new year is held in many other lands. both in ireland and in brittany, on november eve food is laid out for the dead who come to visit the houses and to warm themselves at the fire in the stillness of the night, and in brittany a huge log burns on the hearth. we have here returned to the cult of the dead at the hearth.[ ] possibly the yule log was once a log burned on the hearth--the place of the family ghosts--at samhain, when new fire was kindled in each house. on it libations were poured, which would then have been meant for the dead. the yule log and the log of the breton peasants would thus be the domestic aspect of the fire ritual, which had its public aspect in the samhain bonfires. all this has been in part affected by the christian feast of all souls. dr. frazer thinks that the feast of all saints (november st) was intended to take the place of the pagan cult of the dead. as it failed to do this, all souls, a festival of all the dead, was added on november nd.[ ] to some extent, but not entirely, it has neutralised the pagan rites, for the old ideas connected with samhain still survive here and there. it is also to be noted that in some cases the friendly aspect of the dead has been lost sight of, and, like the _síd_-folk, they are popularly connected with evil powers which are in the ascendant on samhain eve. footnotes: [ ] silius italicus, v. ; lucan, i. . cf. p. , _infra_. [ ] ammian. marcell. xv. . ; joyce, _sh_ i. . [ ] bulliot, _fouilles du mont beuvray_, autun, , i. , . [ ] le braz, ii. ; sauvé, _folk-lore des hautes vosges_, ; bérenger-féraud, _superstitions et survivances_, i. . [ ] hearn, _aryan household_, f.; bérenger-féraud, i. ; _rev. des trad._ i. ; carmichael, ii. ; cosquin, _trad. pop. de la lorraine_, i. . [ ] kennedy, . the mischievous brownie who overturns furniture and smashes crockery is an exact reproduction of the poltergeist. [ ] dechelette, _rev. arch._ xxxiii, ( ), , , . [ ] cicero, _de leg._ ii. . [ ] dechelette, ; reinach, _bf_ . [ ] dechelette, - . in another instance the ram is marked with crosses like those engraved on images of the underworld god with the hammer. [ ] kennedy, . [ ] lady wilde, ; curtin, _tales_, . [ ] le braz, i. ; gregor, ; cambry, _voyage dans le finistère_, i. . [ ] le braz, ii. ; _folk-lore_, iv. ; macculloch, _misty isle of skye_, ; sébillot, i. - . [ ] names of places associated with the great festivals are also those of the chief pagan cemeteries, tara, carman, taillti, etc. (o'curry, _mc_ ii. ). [ ] _rennes dindsenchas_, _rc_ xv. - . [ ] cf. frazer, _adonis_, . [ ] cf. chambers, _mediæval stage_, i. , . [ ] see vigfusson-powell, _corpus poet. boreale_, i. , . perhaps for a similar reason a cult of the dead may have occurred at the midsummer festival. [ ] miss faraday, _folk-lore_, xvii. f. [ ] bede, _de temp. rat._ c. xv. [ ] vigfusson-powell, i. . [ ] curtin, _tales_, ; haddon, _folk-lore_, iv. ; le braz, ii. _et passim._ [ ] frazer, _adonis_, f. chapter xi. primitive nature worship. in early thought everything was a person, in the loose meaning then possessed by personality, and many such "persons" were worshipped-- earth, sun, moon, sea, wind, etc. this led later to more complete personification, and the sun or earth divinity or spirit was more or less separated from the sun or earth themselves. some celtic divinities were thus evolved, but there still continued a veneration of the objects of nature in themselves, as well as a cult of nature spirits or secondary divinities who peopled every part of nature. "nor will i call out upon the mountains, fountains, or hills, or upon the rivers, which are now subservient to the use of man, but once were an abomination and destruction to them, and to which the blind people paid divine honours," cries gildas.[ ] this was the true cult of the folk, the "blind people," even when the greater gods were organised, and it has survived with modifications in out-of-the-way places, in spite of the coming of christianity. s. kentigern rebuked the cambrians for worshipping the elements, which god made for man's use.[ ] the question of the daughters of loegaire also throws much light on celtic nature worship. "has your god sons or daughters?... have many fostered his sons? are his daughters dear and beautiful to men? is he in heaven or on earth, in the sea, in the rivers, in the mountains, in the valleys?"[ ] the words suggest a belief in divine beings filling heaven, earth, sea, air, hills, glens, lochs, and rivers, and following human customs. a naïve faith, full of beauty and poetry, even if it had its dark and grim aspects! these powers or personalities had been invoked from time immemorial, but the invocations were soon stereotyped into definite formulas. such a formula is put into the mouth of amairgen, the poet of the milesians, when they were about to invade erin, and it may have been a magical invocation of the powers of nature at the beginning of an undertaking or in times of danger: "i invoke the land of ireland! shining, shining sea! fertile, fertile mountain! wooded vale! abundant river, abundant in waters! fish abounding lake! fish abounding sea! fertile earth! irruption of fish! fish there! bird under wave! great fish! crab hole! irruption of fish! fish abounding sea!"[ ] a similar formula was spoken after the destruction of da derga's hostel by maccecht on his finding water. he bathed in it and sang-- "cold fountain! surface of strand ... sea of lake, water of gara, stream of river; high spring well; cold fountain!"[ ] the goddess morrigan, after the defeat of the fomorians, invokes the powers of nature and proclaims the victory to "the royal mountains of ireland, to its chief waters, and its river mouths."[ ] it was also customary to take oaths by the elements--heaven, earth, sun, fire, moon, sea, land, day, night, etc., and these punished the breaker of the oath.[ ] even the gods exacted such an oath of each other. bres swore by sun, moon, sea, and land, to fulfil the engagement imposed on him by lug.[ ] the formulæ survived into christian times, and the faithful were forbidden to call the sun and moon gods or to swear by them, while in breton folk-custom at the present day oaths by sun, moon, or earth, followed by punishment of the oath-breaker by the moon, are still in use.[ ] these oaths had originated in a time when the elements themselves were thought to be divine, and similar adjurations were used by greeks and scandinavians. while the greater objects of nature were worshipped for themselves alone, the celts also peopled the earth with spirits, benevolent or malevolent, of rocks, hills, dales, forests, lakes, and streams,[ ] and while greater divinities of growth had been evolved, they still believed in lesser spirits of vegetation, of the corn, and of fertility, connected, however, with these gods. some of these still survive as fairies seen in meadows, woodlands, or streams, or as demoniac beings haunting lonely places. and even now, in french folk-belief, sun, moon, winds, etc., are regarded as actual personages. sun and moon are husband and wife; the winds have wives; they are addressed by personal names and reverenced.[ ] some spirits may already have had a demoniac aspect in pagan times. the tuatha déa conjured up _meisi_, "spectral bodies that rise from the ground," against the milesians, and at their service were malignant sprites--_urtrochta_, and "forms, spectres, and great queens" called _guidemain_ (false demons). the druids also sent forth mischievous spirits called _siabra_. in the _táin_ there are references to _bocânachs_, _banânaichs_, and _geniti-glinni_, "goblins, eldritch beings, and glen-folk."[ ] these are twice called tuatha dé danann, and this suggests that they were nature-spirits akin to the greater gods.[ ] the _geniti-glinni_ would be spirits haunting glen and valley. they are friendly to cúchulainn in the _táin_, but in the _feast of bricriu_ he and other heroes fight and destroy them.[ ] in modern irish belief they are demons of the air, perhaps fallen angels.[ ] much of this is probably pre-celtic as well as celtic, but it held its ground because it was dear to the celts themselves. they upheld the aboriginal cults resembling those which, in the lands whence they came, had been native and local with themselves. such cults are as old as the world, and when christianity expelled the worship of the greater gods, younger in growth, the ancient nature worship, dowered with immortal youth, "bowed low before the blast in patient deep disdain," to rise again in vigour. preachers, councils, and laws inveighed against it. the old rites continued to be practised, or survived under a christian dress and colouring. they are found in breton villages, in highland glens, in welsh and cornish valleys, in irish townships, and only the spread of school-board education, with its materialism and uninviting common sense, is forcing them at last to yield. the denunciations of these cults throw some light upon them. offerings at trees, stones, fountains, and cross-roads, the lighting of fires or candles there, and vows or incantations addressed to them, are forbidden, as is also the worship of trees, groves, stones, rivers, and wells. the sun and moon are not to be called lords. wizardry, and divination, and the leapings and dancings, songs and choruses of the pagans, i.e. their orgiastic cults, are not to be practised. tempest-raisers are not to ply their diabolical craft.[ ] these denunciations, of course, were not without their effect, and legend told how the spirits of nature were heard bewailing the power of the christian saints, their mournful cries echoing in wooded hollows, secluded valleys, and shores of lake and river.[ ] their power, though limited, was not annihilated, but the secrecy in which the old cults often continued to be practised gave them a darker colour. they were identified with the works of the devil, and the spirits of paganism with dark and grisly demons.[ ] this culminated in the mediæval witch persecutions, for witchcraft was in part the old paganism in a new guise. yet even that did not annihilate superstition, which still lives and flourishes among the folk, though the actual worship of nature-spirits has now disappeared. * * * * * perhaps the most important object in nature to the early celts as to most primitive folk was the moon. the phases of the moon were apparent before men observed the solstices and equinoxes, and they formed an easy method of measuring time. the celtic year was at first lunar--pliny speaks of the celtic method of counting the beginning of months and years by the moon--and night was supposed to precede day.[ ] the festivals of growth began, not at sunrise, but on the previous evening with the rising of the moon, and the name _la lunade_ is still given to the midsummer festival in parts of france.[ ] at vallon de la suille a wood on the slope where the festival is held is called _bois de la lune_; and in ireland, where the festival begins on the previous evening, in the district where an ascent of cnoc aine is made, the position of the moon must be observed. a similar combination of sun and moon cults is found in an inscription at lausanne--_to the genius of the sun and moon._[ ] possibly sun festivals took the place of those of the moon. traces of the connection of the moon with agriculture occur in different regions, the connection being established through the primitive law of sympathetic magic. the moon waxes and wanes, therefore it must affect all processes of growth or decay. dr. frazer has cited many instances of this belief, and has shown that the moon had a priority to the sun in worship, e.g. in egypt and babylon.[ ] sowing is done with a waxing moon, so that, through sympathy, there may be a large increase. but harvesting, cutting timber, etc., should be done with a waning moon, because moisture being caused by a waxing moon, it was necessary to avoid cutting such things as would spoil by moisture at that time. similar beliefs are found among the celts. mistletoe and other magical plants were culled with a waxing moon, probably because their power would thus be greater. dr. johnson noted the fact that the highlanders sowed their seed with a waxing moon, in the expectation of a better harvest. for similar occult reasons, it is thought in brittany that conception during a waxing moon produces a male child, during a waning moon a female, while _accouchements_ at the latter time are dangerous. sheep and cows should be killed at the new moon, else their flesh will shrink, but peats should be cut in the last quarter, otherwise they will remain moist and give out "a power of smoke."[ ] these ideas take us back to a time when it was held that the moon was not merely the measurer of time, but had powerful effects on the processes of growth and decay. artemis and diana, moon-goddesses, had power over all growing things, and as some celtic goddesses were equated with diana, they may have been connected with the moon, more especially as gallo-roman images of diana have the head adorned with a crescent moon. in some cases festivals of the moon remained intact, as among the celtiberians and other peoples to the north of them, who at the time of full moon celebrated the festival of a nameless god, dancing all night before the doors of their houses.[ ] the nameless god may have been the moon, worshipped at the time of her intensest light. moonlight dances round a great stone, with singing, on the first day of the year, occurred in the highlands in the eighteenth century.[ ] other survivals of cult are seen in the practices of bowing or baring the head at new moon, or addressing it with words of adoration or supplication. in ireland, camden found the custom at new moon of saying the lord's prayer with the addition of the words, "leave us whole and sound as thou hast found us." similar customs exist in brittany, where girls pray to the moon to grant them dreams of their future husbands.[ ] like other races, the celts thought that eclipses were caused by a monster attacking the moon, while it could be driven off with cries and shouts. in b.c. the celtic allies of attalus were frightened by an eclipse, and much later christian legislation forbade the people to assemble at an eclipse and shout, _vince, luna!_[ ] such a practice was observed in ireland in the seventeenth century. at an earlier time, irish poets addressed sun and moon as divinities, and they were represented on altars even in christian times.[ ] while the celts believed in sea-gods--manannan, morgen, dylan--the sea itself was still personified and regarded as divine. it was thought to be a hostile being, and high tides were met by celtic warriors, who advanced against them with sword and spear, often perishing in the rushing waters rather than retreat. the ancients regarded this as bravado. m. jullian sees in it a sacrifice by voluntary suicide; m. d'arbois, a tranquil waiting for death and the introduction to another life.[ ] but the passages give the sense of an actual attack on the waves--living things which men might terrify, and perhaps with this was combined the belief that no one could die during a rising tide. similarly french fishermen threaten to cut a fog in two with a knife, while the legend of s. lunaire tells how he threw a knife at a fog, thus causing its disappearance.[ ] fighting the waves is also referred to in irish texts. thus tuirbe trágmar would "hurl a cast of his axe in the face of the flood-tide, so that he forbade the sea, which then would not come over the axe." cúchulainn, in one of his fits of anger, fought the waves for seven days, and fionn fought and conquered the muireartach, a personification of the wild western sea.[ ] on the french coast fishermen throw harpoons at certain harmful waves called the three witch waves, thus drawing their blood and causing them to subside.[ ] in some cases human victims may have been offered to the rising waters, since certain tales speak of a child set floating on the waves, and this, repeated every seven years, kept them in their place.[ ] the sea had also its beneficent aspects. the shore was "a place of revelation of science," and the sea sympathised with human griefs. at the battle of ventry "the sea chattered, telling the losses, and the waves raised a heavy, woeful great moan in wailing them."[ ] in other cases in ireland, by a spell put on the waves, or by the intuitive knowledge of the listener, it was revealed that they were wailing for a death or describing some distant event.[ ] in the beautiful song sung by the wife of cael, "the wave wails against the shore for his death," and in welsh myth the waves bewailed the death of dylan, "son of the wave," and were eager to avenge it. the noise of the waves rushing into the vale of conwy were his dying groans.[ ] in ireland the roaring of the sea was thought to be prophetic of a king's death or the coming of important news; and there, too, certain great waves were celebrated in story--clidna's, tuaithe's, and rudhraidhe's.[ ] nine waves, or the ninth wave, partly because of the sacred nature of the number nine, partly because of the beneficent character of the waves, had a great importance. they formed a barrier against invasion, danger, or pestilence, or they had a healing effect.[ ] the wind was also regarded as a living being whose power was to be dreaded. it punished king loegaire for breaking his oath. but it was also personified as a god vintius, equated with pollux and worshipped by celtic sailors, or with mars, the war-god who, in his destructive aspect, was perhaps regarded as the nearest analogue to a god of stormy winds.[ ] druids and celtic priestesses claimed the power of controlling the winds, as did wizards and witches in later days. this they did, according to christian writers, by the aid of demons, perhaps the old divinities of the air. bishop agobard describes how the _tempestarii_ raised tempests which destroyed the fruits of the earth, and drew "aerial ships" from magonia, whither the ships carried these fruits.[ ] magonia may be the upper air ruled over by a sky god magounos or mogounos, equated with apollo.[ ] the winds may have been his servants, ruled also by earthly magicians. like yahweh, as conceived by hebrew poets, he "bringeth the winds out of his treasures," and "maketh lightnings with rain." footnotes: [ ] gildas ii. . [ ] jocelyn, _vila kentig._ c. xxxii. [ ] _trip. life_, . [ ] _ll_ _b_. the translation is from d'arbois, ii. f; cf. o'curry, _mc_ ii. . [ ] _rc_ xxii. . [ ] _rc_ xii. . [ ] petrie, _tara_, ; _rc_ vi. ; _lu_ . [ ] joyce, _ocr_ . [ ] d'achery, _spicelegium_, v. ; sébillot, i. f., , . [ ] gregory of tours, _hist._ ii. , speaks of the current belief in the divinity of waters, birds, and beasts. [ ] sébillot, i. , , , , etc. [ ] joyce, _sh_ ii. ; cormac, ; stokes, _tig_ xxxiii., _rc_ xv. . [ ] miss hull, , , ; _it_ i. ; leahy, i. . [ ] _it_ i. . [ ] henderson, _irish texts_, ii. . [ ] _capit. karoli magni_, i. ; _leges luitprand._ ii. ; canon , nd coun. of arles, hefele, _councils_, iii. ; d'achery, v. . some of these attacks were made against teutonic superstitions, but similar superstitions existed among the celts. [ ] see grimm, _teut. myth._ ii. . [ ] a more tolerant note is heard, e.g., in an irish text which says that the spirits which appeared of old were divine ministrants not demoniacal, while angels helped the ancients because they followed natural truth. "cormac's sword," _it_ iii. - . cf. p. , _supra_. [ ] cæsar, vi. ; pliny xxii. . pliny speaks of culling mistletoe on the sixth day of the moon, which is to them the beginning of months and years (_sexta luna, quae principia_, etc.). this seems to make the sixth, not the first, day of the moon that from which the calculation was made. but the meaning is that mistletoe was culled on the sixth day of the moon, and that the moon was that by which months and years were measured. _luna_, not _sexta luna_, is in apposition with _quae_. traces of the method of counting by nights or by the moon survive locally in france, and the usage is frequent in irish and welsh literature. see my article "calendar" (celtic) in hastings' _encyclop. of religion and ethics_, iii. f. [ ] delocke, "la procession dite la lunade," _rc_ ix. . [ ] monnier, , ; fitzgerald, _rc_ iv. . [ ] frazer, _golden bough_{ }, ii. f. [ ] pliny, xvi. ; johnson, _journey_, ; ramsay, _scotland in the eighteenth century_, ii. ; sébillot, i. f.; macculloch, _misty isle of skye_, . in brittany it is thought that girls may conceive by the moon's power (_rc_ iii. ). [ ] strabo, iii. . . [ ] brand, _s.v._ "new year's day." [ ] chambers, _popular rhymes_, ; sébillot, i. , f. [ ] polybius, v. ; _vita s. eligii_, ii. . [ ] osborne, _advice to his son_ ( ), ; _rc_ xx. , . [ ] aristotle, _nic. eth._ iii. ; _eud. eth._ iii. . ; stobæus, vii. ; Ælian, xii. ; jullian, ; d'arbois, vi. . [ ] sébillot, i. . the custom of throwing something at a "fairy eddy," i.e. a dust storm, is well known on celtic ground and elsewhere. [ ] _folk-lore,_ iv. ; curtin, _hti_ ; campbell, _the fians_, . fian warriors attacked the sea when told it was laughing at them. [ ] _mélusine_, ii. . [ ] sébillot, ii. . [ ] meyer, _cath. finntraga_, . [ ] _rc_ xvi. ; _lb_ _b_, . [ ] meyer, _op. cit._ ; skene, i. , , ; rh[^y]s, _hl_ . [ ] meyer, ; joyce, _pn_ i. , ii. ; _rc_ xv. . [ ] see p. , _supra_; _it_ i. , iii. ; _rc_ ii. , ix. . [ ] holder, _s.v._ "vintius." [ ] agobard, i. . [ ] see stokes, _rc_ vi. . chapter xii. river and well worship. among the celts the testimony of contemporary witnesses, inscriptions, votive offerings, and survivals, shows the importance of the cult of waters and of water divinities. mr. gomme argues that celtic water-worship was derived from the pre-celtic aborigines,[ ] but if so, the celts must have had a peculiar aptitude for it, since they were so enthusiastic in its observance. what probably happened was that the celts, already worshippers of the waters, freely adopted local cults of water wherever they came. some rivers or river-goddesses in celtic regions seem to posses pre-celtic names.[ ] treasures were flung into a sacred lake near toulouse to cause a pestilence to cease. caepion, who afterwards fished up this treasure, fell soon after in battle--a punishment for cupidity, and _aurum tolosanum_ now became an expression for goods dishonestly acquired.[ ] a yearly festival, lasting three days, took place at lake gévaudan. garments, food, and wax were thrown into the waters, and animals were sacrificed. on the fourth day, it is said, there never failed to spring up a tempest of rain, thunder, and lightning--a strange reward for this worship of the lake.[ ] s. columba routed the spirits of a scottish fountain which was worshipped as a god, and the well now became sacred, perhaps to the saint himself, who washed in it and blessed it so that it cured diseases.[ ] on inscriptions a river name is prefixed by some divine epithet--_dea_, _augusta_, and the worshipper records his gratitude for benefits received from the divinity or the river itself. bormanus, bormo or borvo, danuvius (the danube), and luxovius are found on inscriptions as names of river or fountain gods, but goddesses are more numerous--acionna, aventia, bormana, brixia, carpundia, clutoida, divona, sirona, ura--well-nymphs; and icauna (the yonne), matrona, and sequana (the seine)--river-goddesses.[ ] no inscription to the goddess of a lake has yet been found. some personal names like dubrogenos (son of the dubron), enigenus (son of the aenus), and the belief of virdumarus that one of his ancestors was the rhine,[ ] point to the idea that river-divinities might have amours with mortals and beget progeny called by their names. in ireland, conchobar was so named from the river whence his mother nessa drew water, perhaps because he was a child of the river-god.[ ] the name of the water-divinity was sometimes given to the place of his or her cult, or to the towns which sprang up on the banks of rivers--the divinity thus becoming a tutelary god. many towns (e.g. divonne or dyonne, etc.) have names derived from a common celtic river name deuona, "divine." this name in various forms is found all over the celtic area,[ ] and there is little doubt that the celts, in their onward progress, named river after river by the name of the same divinity, believing that each new river was a part of his or her kingdom. the name was probably first an appellative, then a personal name, the divine river becoming a divinity. deus nemausus occurs on votive tablets at nimes, the name nemausus being that of the clear and abundant spring there whence flowed the river of the same name. a similar name occurs in other regions--nemesa, a tributary of the moselle; nemh, the source of the tara and the former name of the blackwater; and nimis, a spanish river mentioned by appian. another group includes the matrona (marne), the moder, the madder, the maronne and maronna, and others, probably derived from a word signifying "mother."[ ] the mother-river was that which watered a whole region, just as in the hindu sacred books the waters are mothers, sources of fertility. the celtic mother-rivers were probably goddesses, akin to the _matres_, givers of plenty and fertility. in gaul, sirona, a river-goddess, is represented like the _matres_. she was associated with grannos, perhaps as his mother, and professor rh[^y]s equates the pair with the welsh modron and mabon; modron is probably connected with matrona.[ ] in any case the celts regarded rivers as bestowers of life, health, and plenty, and offered them rich gifts and sacrifices.[ ] gods like grannos, borvo, and others, equated with apollo, presided over healing springs, and they are usually associated with goddesses, as their husbands or sons. but as the goddesses are more numerous, and as most celtic river names are feminine, female divinities of rivers and springs doubtless had the earlier and foremost place, especially as their cult was connected with fertility. the gods, fewer in number, were all equated with apollo, but the goddesses were not merged by the romans into the personality of one goddess, since they themselves had their groups of river-goddesses, nymphs and naiads. before the roman conquest the cult of water-divinities, friends of mankind, must have formed a large part of the popular religion of gaul, and their names may be counted by hundreds. thermal springs had also their genii, and they were appropriated by the romans, so that the local gods now shared their healing powers with apollo, Æsculapius, and the nymphs. thus every spring, every woodland brook, every river in glen or valley, the roaring cataract, and the lake were haunted by divine beings, mainly thought of as beautiful females with whom the _matres_ were undoubtedly associated. there they revealed themselves to their worshippers, and when paganism had passed away, they remained as _fées_ or fairies haunting spring, or well, or river.[ ] scores of fairy wells still exist, and by them mediæval knights had many a fabled amour with those beautiful beings still seen by the "ignorant" but romantic peasant. sanctuaries were erected at these springs by grateful worshippers, and at some of them festivals were held, or they were the resort of pilgrims. as sources of fertility they had a place in the ritual of the great festivals, and sacred wells were visited on midsummer day, when also the river-gods claimed their human victims. some of the goddesses were represented by statues or busts in gallo-roman times, if not earlier, and other images of them which have been found were of the nature of _ex votos_, presented by worshippers in gratitude for the goddess's healing gifts. money, ingots of gold or silver, and models of limbs or other parts of the body which had been or were desired to be healed, were also presented. gregory of tours says of the gauls that they "represent in wood or bronze the members in which they suffer, and whose healing they desire, and place them in a temple."[ ] contact of the model with the divinity brought healing to the actual limbs on the principle of sympathetic magic. many such models have been discovered. thus in the shrine of dea sequana was found a vase with over a hundred; another contained over eight hundred. inscriptions were engraved on plaques which were fastened to the walls of temples, or placed in springs.[ ] leaden tablets with inscriptions were placed in springs by those who desired healing or when the waters were low, and on some the actual waters are hardly discriminated from the divinities. the latter are asked to heal or flow or swell--words which apply more to the waters than to them, while the tablets, with their frank animism, also show that, in some cases, there were many elemental spirits of a well, only some of whom were rising to the rank of a goddess. they are called collectively _niskas_--the nixies of later tradition, but some have personal names--lerano, dibona, dea--showing that they were tending to become separate divine personalities. the peisgi are also appealed to, perhaps the later piskies, unless the word is a corrupt form of a celtic _peiskos_, or the latin _piscus_, "fish."[ ] this is unlikely, as fish could not exist in a warm sulphurous spring, though the celts believed in the sacred fish of wells or streams. the fairies now associated with wells or with a water-world beneath them, are usually nameless, and only in a few cases have a definite name. they, like the older spirits of the wells, have generally a beneficent character.[ ] thus in the fountains of logres dwelt damsels who fed the wayfarer with meat and bread, until grievous wrong was done them, when they disappeared and the land became waste.[ ] occasionally, however, they have a more malevolent character.[ ] the spirit of the waters was often embodied in an animal, usually a fish. even now in brittany the fairy dweller in a spring has the form of an eel, while in the seventeenth century highland wells contained fish so sacred that no one dared to catch them.[ ] in wales s. cybi's well contained a huge eel in whose virtues the villagers believed, and terror prevailed when any one dared to take it from the water. two sacred fish still exist in a holy well at nant peris, and are replaced by others when they die, the dead fish being buried.[ ] this latter act, solemnly performed, is a true sign of the divine or sacred character of the animal. many wells with sacred fish exist in ireland, and the fish have usually some supernatural quality--they never alter in size, they become invisible, or they take the form of beautiful women.[ ] any one destroying such fish was regarded as a sacrilegious person, and sometimes a hostile tribe killed and ate the sacred fish of a district invaded by them, just as egyptians of one nome insulted those of another by killing their sacred animals.[ ] in old irish beliefs the salmon was the fish of knowledge. thus whoever ate the salmon of connla's well was dowered with the wisdom which had come to them through eating nuts from the hazels of knowledge around the well. in this case the sacred fish was eaten, but probably by certain persons only--those who had the right to do so. sinend, who went to seek inspiration from the well, probably by eating one of its salmon, was overwhelmed by its waters. the legend of the salmon is perhaps based on old ritual practices of the occasional eating of a divine animal. in other cases, legends of a miraculous supply of fish from sacred wells are perhaps later christian traditions of former pagan beliefs or customs concerning magical methods of increasing a sacred or totem animal species, like those used in central australia and new guinea.[ ] the frog is sometimes the sacred animal, and this recalls the _märchen_ of the frog bridegroom living in a well, who insisted on marrying the girl who drew its waters. though this tale is not peculiar to the celts, it is not improbable that the divine animal guardian of a well may have become the hero of a folk-tale, especially as such wells were sometimes tabu to women.[ ] a fly was the guardian spirit of s. michael's well in banffshire. auguries regarding health were drawn from its movements, and it was believed that the fly, when it grew old, transmigrated into another.[ ] such beliefs were not peculiarly celtic. they are found in all european folk-lore, and they are still alive among savages--the animal being itself divine or the personification of a divinity. a huge sacred eel was worshipped by the fijians; in north america and elsewhere there were serpent guardians of the waters; and the semites worshipped the fish of sacred wells as incarnations or symbols of a god. later celtic folk-belief associated monstrous and malevolent beings with rivers and lakes. these may be the older divinities to whom a demoniac form has been given, but even in pagan times such monstrous beings may have been believed in, or they may be survivals of the more primitive monstrous guardians of the waters. the last were dragons or serpents, conventional forms of the reptiles which once dwelt in watery places, attacking all who came near. this old idea certainly survived in irish and highland belief, for the fians conquered huge dragons or serpents in lochs, or saints chained them to the bottom of the waters. hence the common place-name of loch na piast, "loch of the monster." in other tales they emerge and devour the impious or feast on the dead.[ ] the _dracs_ of french superstition--river monsters who assume human form and drag down victims to the depths, where they devour them--resemble these. the _each uisge_, or "water-horse," a horse with staring eyes, webbed feet, and a slimy coat, is still dreaded. he assumes different forms and lures the unwary to destruction, or he makes love in human shape to women, some of whom discover his true nature by seeing a piece of water-weed in his hair, and only escape with difficulty. such a water-horse was forced to drag the chariot of s. fechin of fore, and under his influence became "gentler than any other horse."[ ] many highland lochs are still haunted by this dreaded being, and he is also known in ireland and france, where, however, he has more of a tricky and less of a demoniac nature.[ ] his horse form is perhaps connected with the similar form ascribed to celtic water-divinities. manannan's horses were the waves, and he was invariably associated with a horse. epona, the horse-goddess, was perhaps originally goddess of a spring, and, like the _matres_, she is sometimes connected with the waters.[ ] horses were also sacrificed to river-divinities.[ ] but the beneficent water-divinities in their horse form have undergone a curious distortion, perhaps as the result of later christian influences. the name of one branch of the fomorians, the goborchinn, means the "horse-headed," and one of their kings was eochaid echchenn, or "horse-head."[ ] whether these have any connection with the water-horse is uncertain. the foaming waters may have suggested another animal personification, since the name of the boyne in ptolemy, [greek: bououinda], is derived from a primitive _bóu-s_, "ox," and _vindo-s_, "white," in irish _bó find_, "white cow."[ ] but it is not certain that this or the celtic cult of the bull was connected with the belief in the _tarbh uisge_, or "water-bull," which had no ears and could assume other shapes. it dwells in lochs and is generally friendly to man, occasionally emerging to mate with ordinary cows. in the isle of man the _tarroo ushtey_, however, begets monsters.[ ] these celtic water-monsters have a curious resemblance to the australian _bunyip_. the _uruisg_, often confused with the brownie, haunts lonely places and waterfalls, and, according to his mood, helps or harms the wayfarer. his appearance is that of a man with shaggy hair and beard.[ ] in wales the _afanc_ is a water-monster, though the word first meant "dwarf," then "water-dwarf," of whom many kinds existed. they correspond to the irish water-dwarfs, the _luchorpáin_, descended with the fomorians and goborchinn from ham.[ ] in other cases the old water beings have a more pleasing form, like the syrens and other fairy beings who haunt french rivers, or the mermaids of irish estuaries.[ ] in celtic france and britain lake fairies are connected with a water-world like that of elysium tales, the region of earlier divinities.[ ] they unite with mortals, who, as in the swan-maiden tales, lose their fairy brides through breaking a tabu. in many welsh tales the bride is obtained by throwing bread and cheese on the waters, when she appears with an old man who has all the strength of youth. he presents his daughter and a number of fairy animals to the mortal. when she disappears into the waters after the breaking of the tabu, the lake is sometimes drained in order to recover her; the father then appears and threatens to submerge the whole district. father and daughters are earlier lake divinities, and in the bread and cheese we may see a relic of the offerings to these.[ ] human sacrifice to water-divinities is suggested by the belief that water-monsters devour human beings, and by the tradition that a river claims its toll of victims every year. in popular rhymes the annual character of the sacrifice is hinted at, and welsh legend tells of a voice heard once a year from rivers or lakes, crying, "the hour is come, but the man is not."[ ] here there is the trace of an abandoned custom of sacrifice and of the traditional idea of the anger of the divinity at being neglected. such spirits or gods, like the water-monsters, would be ever on the watch to capture those who trespassed on their domain. in some cases the victim is supposed to be claimed on midsummer eve, the time of the sacrifice in the pagan period.[ ] the spirits of wells had also a harmful aspect to those, at least, who showed irreverence in approaching them. this is seen in legends about the danger of looking rashly into a well or neglecting to cover it, or in the belief that one must not look back after visiting the well. spirits of wells were also besought to do harm to enemies. legends telling of the danger of removing or altering a well, or of the well moving elsewhere because a woman washed her hands in it, point to old tabus concerning wells. boand, wife of nechtain, went to the fairy well which he and his cup-bearers alone might visit, and when she showed her contempt for it, the waters rose and destroyed her. they now flow as the river boyne. sinend met with a similar fate for intruding on connla's well, in this case the pursuing waters became the shannon.[ ] these are variants of a story which might be used to explain the origin of any river, but the legends suggest that certain wells were tabu to women because certain branches of knowledge, taught by the well, must be reserved for men.[ ] the legends said in effect, "see what came of women obtruding beyond their proper sphere." savage "mysteries" are usually tabu to women, who also exclude men from their sacred rites. on the other hand, as all tribal lore was once in the hands of the wise woman, such tabus and legends may have arisen when men began to claim such lore. in other legends women are connected with wells, as the guardians who must keep them locked up save when water was drawn. when the woman neglected to replace the cover, the waters burst forth, overwhelming her, and formed a loch.[ ] the woman is the priestess of the well who, neglecting part of its ritual, is punished. even in recent times we find sacred wells in charge of a woman who instructs the visitors in the due ritual to be performed.[ ] if such legends and survivals thus point to former celtic priestesses of wells, these are paralleled by the norse horgabrudar, guardians of wells, now elves living in the waters.[ ] that such legends are based on the ritual of well-worship is suggested by boand's walking three times _widdershins_ round the well, instead of the customary _deiseil_. the due ritual must be observed, and the stories are a warning against its neglect. in spite of twenty centuries of christianity and the anathemas of saints and councils, the old pagan practices at healing wells have survived--a striking instance of human conservatism. s. patrick found the pagans of his day worshipping a well called _slán_, "health-giving," and offering sacrifices to it,[ ] and the irish peasant to-day has no doubt that there is something divine about his holy wells. the celts brought the belief in the divinity of springs and wells with them, but would naturally adopt local cults wherever they found them. afterwards the church placed the old pagan wells under the protection of saints, but part of the ritual often remained unchanged. hence many wells have been venerated for ages by different races and through changes in religion and polity. thus at the thermal springs of vicarello offerings have been found which show that their cult has continued from the stone age, through the bronze age, to the days of roman civilisation, and so into modern times; nor is this a solitary instance.[ ] but it serves to show that all races, high and low, preserve the great outlines of primitive nature religion unchanged. in all probability the ritual of the healing wells has also remained in great part unaltered, and wherever it is found it follows the same general type. the patient perambulated the well three times _deiseil_ or sun-wise, taking care not to utter a word. then he knelt at the well and prayed to the divinity for his healing. in modern times the saint, but occasionally the well itself, is prayed to.[ ] then he drank of the waters, bathed in them, or laved his limbs or sores, probably attended by the priestess of the well. having paid her dues, he made an offering to the divinity of the well, and affixed the bandage or part of his clothing to the well or a tree near by, that through it he might be in continuous _rapport_ with the healing influences. ritual formulæ probably accompanied these acts, but otherwise no word was spoken, and the patient must not look back on leaving the well. special times, beltane, midsummer, or august st, were favourable for such visits,[ ] and where a patient was too ill to present himself at the well, another might perform the ritual for him.[ ] the rag or clothing hung on the tree seems to connect the spirit of the tree with that of the well, and tree and well are often found together. but sometimes it is thrown into the well, just as the gaulish villagers of s. gregory's day threw offerings of cloth and wool into a sacred lake.[ ] the rag is even now regarded in the light of an offering, and such offerings, varying from valuable articles of clothing to mere rags, are still hung on sacred trees by the folk. it thus probably has always had a sacrificial aspect in the ritual of the well, but as magic and religion constantly blend, it had also its magical aspect. the rag, once in contact with the patient, transferred his disease to the tree, or, being still subtly connected with him, through it the healing properties passed over to him. the offering thrown into the well--a pin, coin, etc., may also have this double aspect. the sore is often pricked or rubbed with the pin as if to transfer the disease to the well, and if picked up by another person, the disease may pass to him. this is also true of the coin.[ ] but other examples show the sacrificial nature of the pin or other trifle, which is probably symbolic or a survival of a more costly offering. in some cases it is thought that those who do not leave it at the well from which they have drunk will die of thirst, and where a coin is offered it is often supposed to disappear, being taken by the spirit of the well.[ ] the coin has clearly the nature of an offering, and sometimes it must be of gold or silver, while the antiquity of the custom on celtic ground is seen by the classical descriptions of the coins glittering in the pool of clitumnus and of the "gold of toulouse" hid in sacred tanks.[ ] it is also an old and widespread belief that all water belongs to some divine or monstrous guardian, who will not part with any of it without a _quid pro quo_. in many cases the two rites of rag and pin are not both used, and this may show that originally they had the same purpose--magical or sacrificial, or perhaps both. other sacrifices were also made--an animal, food, or an _ex voto_, the last occurring even in late survivals as at s. thenew's well, glasgow, where even in the eighteenth century tin cut to represent the diseased member was placed on the tree, or at s. winifred's well in wales, where crutches were left. certain waters had the power of ejecting the demon of madness. besides drinking, the patient was thrown into the waters, the shock being intended to drive the demon away, as elsewhere demons are exorcised by flagellation or beating. the divinity of the waters aided the process, and an offering was usually made to him. in other cases the sacred waters were supposed to ward off disease from the district or from those who drank of them. or, again, they had the power of conferring fertility. women made pilgrimages to wells, drank or bathed in the waters, implored the spirit or saint to grant them offspring, and made a due offering.[ ] spirit or saint, by a transfer of his power, produced fruitfulness, but the idea was in harmony with the recognised power of water to purify, strengthen, and heal. women, for a similar reason, drank or washed in the waters or wore some articles dipped in them, in order to have an easy delivery or abundance of milk.[ ] the waters also gave oracles, their method of flowing, the amount of water in the well, the appearance or non-appearance of bubbles at the surface when an offering was thrown in, the sinking or floating of various articles, all indicating whether a cure was likely to occur, whether fortune or misfortune awaited the inquirer, or, in the case of girls, whether their lovers would be faithful. the movements of the animal guardian of the well were also ominous to the visitor.[ ] rivers or river divinities were also appealed to. in cases of suspected fidelity the celts dwelling by the rhine placed the newly-born child in a shield on the waters. if it floated the mother was innocent; if it sank it was allowed to drown, and she was put to death.[ ] girls whose purity was suspected were similarly tested, and s. gregory of tours tells how a woman accused of adultery was proved by being thrown into the saône.[ ] the mediæval witch ordeal by water is connected with this custom, which is, however, widespread.[ ] the malevolent aspect of the spirit of the well is seen in the "cursing wells" of which it was thought that when some article inscribed with an enemy's name was thrown into them with the accompaniment of a curse, the spirit of the well would cause his death. in some cases the curse was inscribed on a leaden tablet thrown into the waters, just as, in other cases, a prayer for the offerer's benefit was engraved on it. or, again, objects over which a charm had been said were placed in a well that the victim who drew water might be injured. an excellent instance of a cursing-well is that of fynnon elian in denbigh, which must once have had a guardian priestess, for in an old woman who had charge of it presided at the ceremony. she wrote the name of the victim in a book, receiving a gift at the same time. a pin was dropped into the well in the name of the victim, and through it and through knowledge of his name, the spirit of the well acted upon him to his hurt.[ ] obviously rites like these, in which magic and religion mingle, are not purely celtic, but it is of interest to note their existence in celtic lands and among celtic folk. footnotes: [ ] _ethnol. in folklore_, f. [ ] d'arbois, _ph_ ii. , ; dottin, . [ ] justin, xxxii. ; strabo, iv. . . [ ] s. gregory, _in glor. conf._ ch. . perhaps the feast and offerings were intended to cause rain in time of drought. see p. , _infra_. [ ] adamman, _vita colum._ ii. . [ ] see holder, _s.v._ [ ] d'arbois, _rc_ x. , xiv. ; _cil_ xii. ; propertius, iv. . . [ ] see p. , _infra_. [ ] cf. ptolemy's [greek: dêouana] and [greek: dêouna] (ii. . , . ); the scots and english dee; the divy in wales; dêve, dive, and divette in france; devon in england; deva in spain (ptolemy's [greek: dêoua], ii. . ). the shannon is surnamed even in the seventh century "the goddess" (_trip. life_, ). [ ] holder, _s.v._; d'arbois, _ph_ ii. , thinks _matrona_ is ligurian. but it seems to have strong celtic affinities. [ ] rh[^y]s, _hl_ - , _rc_ iv. . [ ] on the whole subject see pictet, "quelques noms celtiques de rivières," _rc_ ii. f. orosius, v. . , describes the sacrifices of gold, silver, and horses, made to the rhône. [ ] maury, . by extension of this belief any divinity might appear by the haunted spring. s. patrick and his synod of bishops at an irish well were supposed to be _síd_ or gods (p. , _supra_.) by a fairy well jeanne d'arc had her first vision. [ ] greg. tours, _vita patr._ c. . [ ] see reinach, _catal. sommaire_, , ; baudot, _rapport sur les fouilles faits aux sources de la seine_, ii. ; _rc_ ii. . [ ] for these tablets see nicolson, _keltic studies_, f.; jullian, _rc_ . [ ] sébillot, ii. . [ ] prologue to chrestien's _conte du graal_. [ ] sébillot, ii. f. [ ] ibid. - ; martin, - ; dalyell, . [ ] rh[^y]s, _cfl_ i. ; _folk-lore_, viii. . if the fish appeared when an invalid drank of the well, this was a good omen. for the custom of burying sacred animals, see herod, ii. ; Ælian, xiii. . [ ] gomme, _ethnol. in folklore_, . [ ] _trip. life_, ; tigernach, _annals_, a.d. . [ ] mackinley, . [ ] burne, _shropshire folk-lore_, ; campbell, _wht_ ii. . [ ] _old stat. account_, xii. . [ ] s. patrick, when he cleared ireland of serpents, dealt in this way with the worst specimens. s. columba quelled a monster which terrified the dwellers by the ness. joyce, _pn_ i. ; adamnan, _vita columb._ ii. ; kennedy, , , ; _rc_ iv. , . [ ] _rc_ xii. . [ ] for the water-horse, see campbell, _wht_ iv. ; macdongall, ; campbell, _superstitions_, ; and for the manx _glashtyn_, a kind of water-horse, see rh[^y]s, _cfl_ i. . for french cognates, see bérenger-féraud, _superstitions et survivances_, i. f. [ ] reinach, _cmr_ i. . [ ] orosius, v. . . [ ] _lu_ _a_. of eochaid is told a variant of the midas story--the discovery of his horse's ears. this is also told of labraid lore (_rc_ ii. ; kennedy, ) and of king marc'h in brittany and in wales (le braz, ii. ; rh[^y]s, _cfl_ ). other variants are found in non-celtic regions, so the story has no mythological significance on celtic ground. [ ] ptol. ii. . . [ ] campbell, _wht_ iv. f.; rh[^y]s, _cfl_ i. ; waldron, _isle of man_, . [ ] macdougall, ; campbell, _superstitions_, . for the uruisg as brownie, see _wht_ ii. ; graham, _scenery of perthshire_, . [ ] rh[^y]s, _cfl_ ii. , , _hl_, ; _book of taliesin_, vii. . [ ] sébillot, ii. ; _ll_ ; _it_ i. . [ ] sébillot, ii. . [ ] see pughe, _the physicians of myddfai_, (these were descendants of a water-fairy); rh[^y]s, _y cymmrodor_, iv. ; hartland, _arch. rev._ i. . such water-gods with lovely daughters are known in most mythologies--the greek nereus and the nereids, the slavonic water-king, and the japanese god ocean-possessor (ralston, _songs of the russian people_, ; chamberlain, _ko-ji-ki_, ). manannan had nine daughters (wood-martin, i. ). [ ] sébillot, ii. , ; rh[^y]s, _cfl_ i. ; henderson, _folk-lore of the n. counties_, . cf. the rhymes, "l'arguenon veut chaque année son poisson," the "fish" being a human victim, and "blood-thirsty dee each year needs three, but bonny don, she needs none." [ ] sébillot, ii. . [ ] _rendes dindsenchas_, _rc_ xv. , . other instances of punishment following misuse of a well are given in sébillot, ii. ; rees, , . an irish lake no longer healed after a hunter swam his mangy hounds through it (joyce, _pn_ ii. ). a similar legend occurs with the votiaks, one of whose sacred lakes was removed to its present position because a woman washed dirty clothes in it (_l'anthropologie_, xv. ). [ ] rh[^y]s, _cfl_ i. . [ ] girald. cambr. _itin. hib._ ii. ; joyce, _ocr_ ; kennedy, ; o'grady, i. ; skene, ii. ; campbell, _wht_ ii. . the waters often submerge a town, now seen below the waves--the town of is in armorica (le braz, i. p. xxxix), or the towers under lough neagh. in some welsh instances a man is the culprit (rh[^y]s, _cfl_ i. ). in the case of lough neagh the keeper of the well was liban, who lived on in the waters as a mermaid. later she was caught and received the baptismal name of muirghenn, "sea-birth." here the myth of a water-goddess, said to have been baptized, is attached to the legend of the careless guardian of a spring, with whom she is identified (o'grady, ii. , ). [ ] roberts, _cambrian pop. antiq._ ; hunt, _popular romances_, ; _new stat. account_, x. . [ ] thorpe, _northern myth._ ii. . [ ] joyce, _pn_ ii. . _slán_ occurs in many names of wells. well-worship is denounced in the canons of the fourth council of arles. [ ] cartailhac, _l'age de pierre_, ; bulliot et thiollier, _mission de s. martin_, . [ ] sébillot, ii. . [ ] dalyell, - ; sébillot, ii. , ; see p. , _infra_. [ ] i have compiled this account of the ritual from notices of the modern usages in various works. see, e.g., moore, _folk-lore_, v. ; mackinley, _passim_; hope, _holy wells_; rh[^y]s, _cfl_; sébillot, f.; dixon, _gairloch_, f. [ ] brand, ii. ; greg. _in glor. conf._ c. . [ ] sébillot, ii. , ; _folk-lore_, iv. . [ ] mackinley, ; sébillot, ii. . [ ] _folk-lore_, iii. ; _athenæum_, , ; pliny, _ep._ viii. ; strabo, iv. ; diod. sic. v. . [ ] walker, _proc. soc. ant. scot._ vol. v.; sébillot, ii. . in some early irish instances a worm swallowed with the waters by a woman causes pregnancy. see p. , _infra_. [ ] sébillot, ii. - . [ ] see le braz, i. ; _folk-lore_, v. ; rh[^y]s, _cfl_ i. ; dalyell, - ; scott, _minstrelsy_, introd. xliii; martin, ; sébillot, ii. f.; _rc_ ii. . [ ] jullian, _ep. to maximin_, . the practice may have been connected with that noted by aristotle, of plunging the newly-born into a river, to strengthen it, as he says (_pol._ vii. . ), but more probably as a baptismal or purificatory rite. see p. , _infra_. [ ] lefevre, _les gaulois_, ; michelet, _origines du droit français_, . [ ] see examples of its use in post, _grundriss der ethnol. jurisprudenz_, ii. f. [ ] roberts, _cambrian popular antiquities_, . chapter xiii. tree and plant worship. the celts had their own cult of trees, but they adopted local cults--ligurian, iberian, and others. the _fagus deus_ (the divine beech), the _sex arbor_ or _sex arbores_ of pyrenean inscriptions, and an anonymous god represented by a conifer on an altar at toulouse, probably point to local ligurian tree cults continued by the celts into roman times.[ ] forests were also personified or ruled by a single goddess, like _dea arduinna_ of the ardennes and _dea abnoba_ of the black forest.[ ] but more primitive ideas prevailed, like that which assigned a whole class of tree-divinities to a forest, e.g. the _fatæ dervones_, spirits of the oak-woods of northern italy.[ ] groups of trees like _sex arbores_ were venerated, perhaps for their height, isolation, or some other peculiarity. the celts made their sacred places in dark groves, the trees being hung with offerings or with the heads of victims. human sacrifices were hung or impaled on trees, e.g. by the warriors of boudicca.[ ] these, like the offerings still placed by the folk on sacred trees, were attached to them because the trees were the abode of spirits or divinities who in many cases had power over vegetation. pliny said of the celts: "they esteem nothing more sacred than the mistletoe and the tree on which it grows. but apart from this they choose oak-woods for their sacred groves, and perform no sacred rite without using oak branches."[ ] maximus of tyre also speaks of the celtic (? german) image of zeus as a lofty oak, and an old irish glossary gives _daur_, "oak," as an early irish name for "god," and glosses it by _dia_, "god."[ ] the sacred need-fire may have been obtained by friction from oak-wood, and it is because of the old sacredness of the oak that a piece of its wood is still used as a talisman in brittany.[ ] other aryan folk besides the celts regarded the oak as the symbol of a high god, of the sun or the sky,[ ] but probably this was not its earliest significance. oak forests were once more extensive over europe than they are now, and the old tradition that men once lived on acorns has been shown to be well-founded by the witness of archæological finds, e.g. in northern italy.[ ] a people living in an oak region and subsisting in part on acorns might easily take the oak as a representative of the spirit of vegetation or growth. it was long-lived, its foliage was a protection, it supplied food, its wood was used as fuel, and it was thus clearly the friend of man. for these reasons, and because it was the most abiding and living thing men knew, it became the embodiment of the spirits of life and growth. folk-lore survivals show that the spirit of vegetation in the shape of his representative was annually slain while yet in full vigour, that his life might benefit all things and be passed on undiminished to his successor.[ ] hence the oak or a human being representing the spirit of vegetation, or both together, were burned in the midsummer fires. how, then, did the oak come to symbolise a god equated with zeus. though the equation may be worthless, it is possible that the connection lay in the fact that zeus and juppiter had agricultural functions, or that, when the equation was made, the earlier spirit of vegetation had become a divinity with functions resembling those of zeus. the fires were kindled to recruit the sun's life; they were fed with oak-wood, and in them an oak or a human victim representing the spirit embodied in the oak was burned. hence it may have been thought that the sun was strengthened by the fire residing in the sacred oak; it was thus "the original storehouse or reservoir of the fire which was from time to time drawn out to feed the sun."[ ] the oak thus became the symbol of a bright god also connected with growth. but, to judge by folk survivals, the older conception still remained potent, and tree or human victim affected for good all vegetable growth as well as man's life, while at the same time the fire strengthened the sun. dr. evans argues that "the original holy object within the central triliths of stonehenge was a sacred tree," an oak, image of the celtic zeus. the tree and the stones, once associated with ancestor worship, had become symbols of "a more celestial spirit or spirits than those of departed human beings."[ ] but stonehenge has now been proved to have been in existence before the arrival of the celts, hence such a cult must have been pre-celtic, though it may quite well have been adopted by the celts. whether this hypothetical cult was practised by a tribe, a group of tribes, or by the whole people, must remain obscure, and, indeed, it may well be questioned whether stonehenge was ever more than the scene of some ancestral rites. other trees--the yew, the cypress, the alder, and the ash, were venerated, to judge by what lucan relates of the sacred grove at marseilles. the irish druids attributed special virtues to the hazel, rowan, and yew, the wood of which was used in magical ceremonies described in irish texts.[ ] fires of rowan were lit by the druids of rival armies, and incantations said over them in order to discomfit the opposing host,[ ] and the wood of all these trees is still believed to be efficacious against fairies and witches. the irish _bile_ was a sacred tree, of great age, growing over a holy well or fort. five of them are described in the _dindsenchas_, and one was an oak, which not only yielded acorns, but nuts and apples.[ ] the mythic trees of elysium had the same varied fruitage, and the reason in both cases is perhaps the fact that when the cultivated apple took the place of acorns and nuts as a food staple, words signifying "nut" or "acorn" were transferred to the apple. a myth of trees on which all these fruits grew might then easily arise. another irish _bile_ was a yew described in a poem as "a firm strong god," while such phrases in this poem as "word-pure man," "judgment of origin," "spell of knowledge," may have some reference to the custom of writing divinations in ogham on rods of yew. the other _bile_ were ash-trees, and from one of them the _fir bile_, "men of the tree," were named--perhaps a totem-clan.[ ] the lives of kings and chiefs appear to have been connected with these trees, probably as representatives of the spirit of vegetation embodied in the tree, and under their shadow they were inaugurated. but as a substitute for the king was slain, so doubtless these pre-eminent sacred trees were too sacred, too much charged with supernatural force, to be cut down and burned, and the yearly ritual would be performed with another tree. but in time of feud one tribe gloried in destroying the _bile_ of another; and even in the tenth century, when the _bile maighe adair_ was destroyed by maelocohlen the act was regarded with horror. "but, o reader, this deed did not pass unpunished."[ ] of another _bile_, that of borrisokane, it was said that any house in which a fragment of it was burned would itself be destroyed by fire.[ ] tribal and personal names point to belief in descent from tree gods or spirits and perhaps to totemism. the eburones were the yew-tree tribe (_eburos_); the bituriges perhaps had the mistletoe for their symbol, and their surname vivisci implies that they were called "mistletoe men."[ ] if _bile_ (tree) is connected with the name bile, that of the ancestor of the milesians, this may point to some myth of descent from a sacred tree, as in the case of the _fir bile_, or "men of the tree."[ ] other names like guidgen (_viduo-genos_, "son of the tree"), dergen (_dervo-genos_, "son of the oak"), guerngen (_verno-genos_, "son of the alder"), imply filiation to a tree. though these names became conventional, they express what had once been a living belief. names borrowed directly from trees are also found---eburos or ebur, "yew," derua or deruacus, "oak," etc. the veneration of trees growing beside burial mounds or megalithic monuments was probably a pre-celtic cult continued by the celts. the tree embodied the ghost of the person buried under it, but such a ghost could then hardly be differentiated from a tree spirit or divinity. even now in celtic districts extreme veneration exists for trees growing in cemeteries and in other places. it is dangerous to cut them down or to pluck a leaf or branch from them, while in breton churchyards the yew is thought to spread a root to the mouth of each corpse.[ ] the story of the grave of cyperissa, daughter of a celtic king in the danube region, from which first sprang the "mournful cypress,"[ ] is connected with universal legends of trees growing from the graves of lovers until their branches intertwine. these embody the belief that the spirit of the dead is in the tree, which was thus in all likelihood the object of a cult. instances of these legends occur in celtic story. yew-stakes driven through the bodies of naisi and deirdre to keep them apart, became yew-trees the tops of which embraced over armagh cathedral. a yew sprang from the grave of bailé mac buain, and an apple-tree from that of his lover aillinn, and the top of each had the form of their heads.[ ] the identification of tree and ghost is here complete. the elder, rowan, and thorn are still planted round houses to keep off witches, or sprigs of rowan are placed over doorways--a survival from the time when they were believed to be tenanted by a beneficent spirit hostile to evil influences. in ireland and the isle of man the thorn is thought to be the resort of fairies, and they, like the woodland fairies or "wood men" are probably representatives of the older tree spirits and gods of groves and forests.[ ] tree-worship was rooted in the oldest nature worship, and the church had the utmost difficulty in suppressing it. councils fulminated against the cult of trees, against offerings to them or the placing of lights before them and before wells or stones, and against the belief that certain trees were too sacred to be cut down or burned. heavy fines were levied against those who practised these rites, yet still they continued.[ ] amator, bishop of auxerre, tried to stop the worship of a large pear-tree standing in the centre of the town and on which the semi-christian inhabitants hung animals' heads with much ribaldry. at last s. germanus destroyed it, but at the risk of his life. s. martin of tours was allowed to destroy a temple, but the people would not permit him to attack a much venerated pine-tree which stood beside it--an excellent example of the way in which the more official paganism fell before christianity, while the older religion of the soil, from which it sprang, could not be entirely eradicated.[ ] the church often effected a compromise. images of the gods affixed to trees were replaced by those of the virgin, but with curious results. legends arose telling how the faithful had been led to such trees and there discovered the image of the madonna miraculously placed among the branches.[ ] these are analogous to the legends of the discovery of images of the virgin in the earth, such images being really those of the _matres_. representations of sacred trees are occasionally met with on coins, altars, and _ex votos_.[ ] if the interpretation be correct which sees a representation of part of the cúchulainn legend on the paris and trèves altars, the trees figured there would not necessarily be sacred. but otherwise they may depict sacred trees. we now turn to pliny's account of the mistletoe rite. the druids held nothing more sacred than this plant and the tree on which it grew, probably an oak. of it groves were formed, while branches of the oak were used in all religious rites. everything growing on the oak had been sent from heaven, and the presence of the mistletoe showed that god had selected the tree for especial favour. rare as it was, when found the mistletoe was the object of a careful ritual. on the sixth day of the moon it was culled. preparations for a sacrifice and feast were made beneath the tree, and two white bulls whose horns had never been bound were brought there. a druid, clad in white, ascended the tree and cut the mistletoe with a golden sickle. as it fell it was caught in a white cloth; the bulls were then sacrificed, and prayer was made that god would make his gift prosperous to those on whom he had bestowed it. the mistletoe was called "the universal healer," and a potion made from it caused barren animals to be fruitful. it was also a remedy against all poisons.[ ] we can hardly believe that such an elaborate ritual merely led up to the medico-magical use of the mistletoe. possibly, of course, the rite was an attenuated survival of something which had once been more important, but it is more likely that pliny gives only a few picturesque details and passes by the _rationale_ of the ritual. he does not tell us who the "god" of whom he speaks was, perhaps the sun-god or the god of vegetation. as to the "gift," it was probably in his mind the mistletoe, but it may quite well have meant the gift of growth in field and fold. the tree was perhaps cut down and burned; the oxen may have been incarnations of a god of vegetation, as the tree also may have been. we need not here repeat the meaning which has been given to the ritual,[ ] but it may be added that if this meaning is correct, the rite probably took place at the time of the midsummer festival, a festival of growth and fertility. mistletoe is still gathered on midsummer eve and used as an antidote to poisons or for the cure of wounds. its druidic name is still preserved in celtic speech in words signifying "all-healer," while it is also called _sùgh an daraich_, "sap of the oak," and _druidh lus_, "druid's weed."[ ] pliny describes other celtic herbs of grace. _selago_ was culled without use of iron after a sacrifice of bread and wine--probably to the spirit of the plant. the person gathering it wore a white robe, and went with unshod feet after washing them. according to the druids, _selago_ preserved one from accident, and its smoke when burned healed maladies of the eye.[ ] _samolus_ was placed in drinking troughs as a remedy against disease in cattle. it was culled by a person fasting, with the left hand; it must be wholly uprooted, and the gatherer must not look behind him.[ ] _vervain_ was gathered at sunrise after a sacrifice to the earth as an expiation--perhaps because its surface was about to be disturbed. when it was rubbed on the body all wishes were gratified; it dispelled fevers and other maladies; it was an antidote against serpents; and it conciliated hearts. a branch of the dried herb used to asperge a banquet-hall made the guests more convivial[ ] the ritual used in gathering these plants--silence, various tabus, ritual purity, sacrifice--is found wherever plants are culled whose virtue lies in this that they are possessed by a spirit. other plants are still used as charms by modern celtic peasants, and, in some cases, the ritual of gathering them resembles that described by pliny.[ ] in irish sagas plants have magical powers. "fairy herbs" placed in a bath restored beauty to women bathing therein.[ ] during the _táin_ cúchulainn's wounds were healed with "balsams and healing herbs of fairy potency," and diancecht used similar herbs to restore the dead at the battle of mag-tured.[ ] footnotes: [ ] sacaze, _inscr. des pyren._ ; hirschfeld, _sitzungsberichte_ (berlin, ), . [ ] _cil_ vi. ; _cir_ , . [ ] d'arbois, _les celtes_, . [ ] lucan, _phar._ usener's ed., ; orosius, v. . ; dio cass. lxii. . [ ] pliny, xvi. . the scholiast on lucan says that the druids divined with acorns (usener, ). [ ] max. tyr. _diss._ viii. ; stokes, _rc_ i. . [ ] le braz, ii. . [ ] mr. chadwick (_jour. anth. inst._ xxx. ) connects this high god with thunder, and regards the celtic zeus (taranis, in his opinion) as a thunder-god. the oak was associated with this god because his worshippers dwelt under oaks. [ ] helbig, _die italiker in der poebene_, f. [ ] mannhardt, _baumkultus_; frazer, _golden bough_{ } iii. . [ ] frazer, _loc. cit._ [ ] evans, _arch. rev._ i. f. [ ] joyce, _sh_ i. . [ ] o'curry, _mc_ i. . [ ] _ll_ _b_; _rennes dindsenchas_, _rc_ xv. . [ ] _rc_ xv. , xvi. ; hennessey, _chron. scot._ . [ ] keating, ; joyce, _pn_ i. . [ ] wood-martin, ii. . [ ] d'arbois, _les celtes_, ; jullian, . [ ] cook, _folk-lore_, xvii. . [ ] see sébillot, i. ; le braz, i. ; _folk-lore journal_, v. ; _folk-lore record_, . [ ] val. probus, _comm. in georgica_, ii. . [ ] miss hull, ; o'ourry, _ms. mat._ . writing tablets, made from each of the trees when they were cut down, sprang together and could not be separated. [ ] _stat. account_, iii. ; moore, ; sébillot, i. , . [ ] dom martin, i. ; _vita s. eligii_, ii. . [ ] _acta sanct._ (bolland.), july ; sulp. sever. _vita s. mart._ . [ ] grimm, _teut. myth._ ; maury, , . the story of beautiful women found in trees may be connected with the custom of placing images in trees, or with the belief that a goddess might be seen emerging from the tree in which she dwelt. [ ] de la tour, _atlas des monnaies gaul_, , ; reinach, _catal. sommaire_, . [ ] pliny, _hn_ xvi. . [ ] see p. , _supra_. [ ] see cameron, _gaelic names of plants_, . in gregoire de rostren, _dict. françois-celt._ , mistletoe is translated by _dour-dero_, "oak-water," and is said to be good for several evils. [ ] pliny, xxiv. . [ ] ibid. [ ] ibid. xxv. . [ ] see carmichael, _carmina gadelica_; de nore, _coutumes ... des provinces de france_, f.; sauvé, _rc_ vi. , _cm_ ix. . [ ] o'grady, ii. . [ ] miss hull, ; see p. , _supra_. chapter xiv. animal worship. animal worship pure and simple had declined among the celts of historic times, and animals were now regarded mainly as symbols or attributes of divinities. the older cult had been connected with the pastoral stage in which the animals were divine, or with the agricultural stage in which they represented the corn-spirit, and perhaps with totemism. we shall study here ( ) traces of the older animal cults; ( ) the transformation of animal gods into symbols; and ( ) traces of totemism. . the presence of a bull with three cranes (_tarvos trigaranos_) on the paris altar, along with the gods esus, juppiter, and vulcan, suggests that it was a divine animal, or the subject of a divine myth. as has been seen, this bull may be the bull of the _táin bó cuailgne_. both it and its opponent were reincarnations of the swine-herds of two gods. in the irish sagas reincarnation is only attributed to gods or heroes, and this may point to the divinity of the bulls. we have seen that this and another altar may depict some myth in which the bull was the incarnation of a tree or vegetation spirit. the divine nature of the bull is attested by its presence on gaulish coins as a religious symbol, and by images of the animal with three horns--an obvious symbol of divinity.[ ] on such an image in bronze the cimbri, celticised germans, swore. the images are pre-roman, since they are found at hallstadt and la tène. personal names like donnotaurus (the equivalent of the _donn taruos_ of the _táin_) or deiotaros ("divine bull"), show that men were called after the divine animal.[ ] similarly many place-names in which the word _taruos_ occurs, in northern italy, the pyrenees, scotland, ireland, and elsewhere, suggest that the places bearing these names were sites of a bull cult or that some myth, like that elaborated in the _táin_, had been there localised.[ ] but, as possibly in the case of cúchulainn and the bull, the animal tended to become the symbol of a god, a tendency perhaps aided by the spread of mithraism with its symbolic bull. a god medros leaning on a bull is represented at haguenau, possibly a form of mider or of meduris, a surname of toutatis, unless medros is simply mithras.[ ] echoes of the cult of the bull or cow are heard in irish tales of these animals brought from the _síd_, or of magic bulls or of cows which produced enormous supplies of milk, or in saintly legends of oxen leading a saint to the site of his future church.[ ] these legends are also told of the swine,[ ] and they perhaps arose when a christian church took the place of the site of a local animal cult, legend fusing the old and the new cult by making the once divine animal point out the site of the church. a late relic of a bull cult may be found in the carnival procession of the _boeuf gras_ at paris. a cult of a swine-god moccus has been referred to. the boar was a divine symbol on standards, coins, and altars, and many bronze images of the animal have been found. these were temple treasures, and in one case the boar is three-horned.[ ] but it was becoming the symbol of a goddess, as is seen by the altars on which it accompanies a goddess, perhaps of fertility, and by a bronze image of a goddess seated on a boar. the altars occur in britain, of which the animal may be the emblem--the "caledonian monster" of claudian's poem.[ ] the galatian celts abstained from eating the swine, and there has always been a prejudice against its flesh in the highlands. this has a totemic appearance.[ ] but the swine is esteemed in ireland, and in the texts monstrous swine are the staple article of famous feasts.[ ] these may have been legendary forms of old swine-gods, the feasts recalling sacrificial feasts on their flesh. magic swine were also the immortal food of the gods. but the boar was tabu to certain persons, e.g. diarmaid, though whether this is the attenuated memory of a clan totem restriction is uncertain. in welsh story the swine comes from elysium--a myth explaining the origin of its domestication, while domestication certainly implies an earlier cult of the animal. when animals come to be domesticated, the old cult restrictions, e.g. against eating them, usually pass away. for this reason, perhaps, the gauls, who worshipped an anthropomorphic swine-god, trafficked in the animal and may have eaten it.[ ] welsh story also tells of the magic boar, the _twrch trwyth_, hunted by arthur, possibly a folk-tale reminiscence of a boar divinity.[ ] place-names also point to a cult of the swine, and a recollection of its divinity may underlie the numerous irish tales of magical swine.[ ] the magic swine which issued from the cave of cruachan and destroyed the young crops are suggestive of the theriomorphic corn-spirit in its occasional destructive aspect.[ ] bones of the swine, sometimes cremated, have been found in celtic graves in britain and at hallstadt, and in one case the animal was buried alone in a tumulus at hallstadt, just as sacred animals were buried in egypt, greece, and elsewhere.[ ] when the animal was buried with the dead, it may have been as a sacrifice to the ghost or to the god of the underworld. the divinity of the serpent is proved by the occurrence of a horned serpent with twelve roman gods on a gallo-roman altar.[ ] in other cases a horned or ram's-headed serpent appears as the attribute of a god, and we have seen that the ram's-headed serpent may be a fusion of the serpent as a chthonian animal with the ram, sacrificed to the dead. in greece dionysus had the form both of a bull and a horned serpent, the horn being perhaps derived from the bull symbol. m. reinach claims that the primitive elements of the orphic myth of the thracian dionysos-zagreus--divine serpents producing an egg whence came the horned snake zagreus, occur in dislocated form in gaul. there enlacing serpents were believed to produce a magic egg, and there a horned serpent was worshipped, but was not connected with the egg. but they may once have been connected, and if so, there may be a common foundation both for the greek and the celtic conceptions in a celtic element in thrace.[ ] the resemblances, however, may be mere coincidences, and horned serpents are known in other mythologies--the horn being perhaps a symbol of divinity. the horned serpent sometimes accompanies a god who has horns, possibly cernunnos, the underworld god, in accordance with the chthonian character of the serpent.[ ] in the cùchulainn cycle loeg on his visit to the other-world saw two-headed serpents--perhaps a further hint of this aspect of the animal.[ ] in all these instances of animal cults examples of the tendency to make the divine animal anthropomorphic have been seen. we have now to consider some instances of the complete anthropomorphic process. . an old bear cult gave place to the cult of a bear goddess and probably of a god. at berne--an old celtic place-name meaning "bear"--was found a bronze group of a goddess holding a patera with fruit, and a bear approaching her as if to be fed. the inscription runs, _deae artioni licinia sabinilla_.[ ] a local bear-cult had once existed at berne, and is still recalled in the presence of the famous bears there, but the divine bear had given place to a goddess whose name and symbol were ursine. from an old celtic _artos_, fem. _arta_, "bear," were derived various divine names. of these _dea artio(n)_ means "bear goddess," and _artaios_, equated with mercury, is perhaps a bear god.[ ] another bear goddess, andarta, was honoured at die (drôme), the word perhaps meaning "strong bear"--_and_- being an augmentive.[ ] numerous place-names derived from _artos_ perhaps witness to a widespread cult of the bear, and the word also occurs in welsh, and irish personal names--arthmael, arthbiu, and possibly arthur, and the numerous arts of irish texts. descent from the divine bear is also signified in names like welsh _arthgen_, irish _artigan_, from _artigenos_, "son of the bear." another celtic name for "bear" was the gaulish _matu_, irish _math_, found in _matugenos_, "son of the bear," and in macmahon, which is a corrupt form of _mac-math-ghamhain_, "son of the bear's son," or "of the bear."[ ] similarly a cult of the stag seems to have given place to that of a god with stag's horns, represented on many bas-reliefs, and probably connected with the underworld.[ ] the stag, as a grain-eater, may have been regarded as the embodiment of the corn-spirit, and then associated with the under-earth region whence the corn sprang, by one of those inversions of thought so common in the stage of transition from animal gods to gods with animal symbols. the elk may have been worshipped in ireland, and a three antlered stag is the subject of a story in the fionn saga.[ ] its third antler, like the third horn of bull or boar, may be a sign of divinity. the horse had also been worshipped, but a goddess epona (gaul. _epo-s_, "horse"), protectress of horses and asses, took its place, and had a far-spread cult. she rides a horse or mare with its foal, or is seated among horses, or feeds horses. a representation of a mare suckling a foal--a design analogous to those in which epona feeds foals--shows that her primitive equine nature had not been forgotten.[ ] the gauls were horse-rearers, and epona was the goddess of the craft; but, as in other cases, a cult of the horse must have preceded its domestication, and its flesh may not have been eaten, or, if so, only sacramentally.[ ] finally, the divine horse became the anthropomorphic horse-goddess. her images were placed in stables, and several inscriptions and statuettes have been found in such buildings or in cavalry barracks.[ ] the remains of the cult have been found in the danube and rhine valleys, in eastern gaul, and in northern italy, all celtic regions, but it was carried everywhere by roman cavalry recruited from the celtic tribes.[ ] epona is associated with, and often has, the symbols of the _matres_, and one inscription reads _eponabus_, as if there were a group of goddesses called epona.[ ] a goddess who promoted the fertility of mares would easily be associated with goddesses of fertility. epona may also have been confused with a river-goddess conceived of as a spirited steed. water-spirits took that shape, and the _matres_ were also river-goddesses. a statuette of a horse, with a dedication to a god rudiobus, otherwise unknown, may have been carried processionally, while a mule has a dedication to segomo, equated elsewhere with mars. a mule god mullo, also equated with mars, is mentioned on several inscriptions.[ ] the connection with mars may have been found in the fact that the october horse was sacrificed to him for fertility, while the horse was probably associated with fertility among the celts. the horse was sacrificed both by celts and teutons at the midsummer festival, undoubtedly as a divine animal. traces of the celtic custom survive in local legends, and may be interpreted in the fuller light of the teutonic accounts. in ireland a man wearing a horse's head rushed through the fire, and was supposed to represent all cattle; in other words, he was a surrogate for them. the legend of each labra, a horse which lived in a mound and issued from it every midsummer eve to give oracles for the coming year, is probably connected with the midsummer sacrifice of the horse.[ ] among the teutons the horse was a divine sacrificial animal, and was also sacred to freyr, the god of fertility, while in teutonic survivals a horse's head was placed in the midsummer fire.[ ] the horse was sporadically the representative of the corn-spirit, and at rome the october horse was sacrificed in that capacity and for fertility.[ ] among the celts, the horse sacrificed at midsummer may have represented the vegetation-spirit and benefited all domestic animals--the old rite surviving in an attenuated form, as described above. perhaps the goddess damona was an animal divinity, if her name is derived from _damatos_, "sheep," cognate to welsh _dafad_, "sheep," and gaelic _damh_, "ox." other divine animals, as has been seen, were associated with the waters, and the use of beasts and birds in divination doubtless points to their divine character. a cult of bird-gods may lurk behind the divine name bran, "raven," and the reference to the magic birds of rhiannon in the _triads_. . animal worship is connected with totemism, and certain things point to its existence among the celts, or to the existence of conditions out of which totemism was elsewhere developed. these are descent from animals, animal tabus, the sacramental eating of an animal, and exogamy. ( ) _descent from animals._--celtic names implying descent from animals or plants are of two classes, clan and personal names. if the latter are totemistic, they must be derived from the former, since totemism is an affair of the clan, while the so-called "personal totem," exemplified by the american indian _manitou_, is the guardian but never the ancestor of a man. some clan names have already been referred to. others are the bibroci of south-east britain, probably a beaver clan (_bebros_), and the eburones, a yew-tree clan (_eburos_).[ ] irish clans bore animal names: some groups were called "calves," others "griffins," others "red deer," and a plant name is seen in _fir bile_, "men of the tree."[ ] such clan totemism perhaps underlies the stories of the "descendants of the wolf" at ossory, who became wolves for a time as the result of a saintly curse. other instances of lycanthropy were associated with certain families.[ ] the belief in lycanthropy might easily attach itself to existing wolf-clans, the transformation being then explained as the result of a curse. the stories of cormac mac art, suckled by a she-wolf, of lughaid mac con, "son of a wolf-dog," suckled by that animal, and of oisin, whose mother was a fawn, and who would not eat venison, are perhaps totemistic, while to totemism or to a cult of animals may be ascribed what early travellers in ireland say of the people taking wolves as god-fathers and praying to them to do them no ill.[ ] in wales bands of warriors at the battle of cattraeth are described in oneurin's _gododin_ as dogs, wolves, bears, and ravens, while owein's band of ravens which fought against arthur, may have been a raven clan, later misunderstood as actual ravens.[ ] certain groups of dalriad scots bore animal names--cinel gabran, "little goat clan," and cinel loarn, "fox clan." possibly the custom of denoting highland clans by animal or plant badges may be connected with a belief in descent from plants or animals. on many coins an animal is represented on horseback, perhaps leading a clan, as birds led the celts to the danube area, and these may depict myths telling how the clan totem animal led the clan to its present territory.[ ] such myths may survive in legends relating how an animal led a saint to the site of his church.[ ] celtic warriors wore helmets with horns, and irish story speaks of men with cat, dog, or goat heads.[ ] these may have been men wearing a head-gear formed of the skin or head of the clan totem, hence remembered at a later time as monstrous beings, while the horned helmets would be related to the same custom. solinus describes the britons as wearing animal skins before going into battle.[ ] were these skins of totem animals under whose protection they thus placed themselves? the "forms of beasts, birds, and fishes" which the cruithne or picts tattooed on their bodies may have been totem marks, while the painting of their bodies with woad among the southern britons may have been of the same character, though cæsar's words hardly denote this. certain marks on faces figured on gaulish coins seem to be tattoo marks.[ ] it is not impossible that an early wolf-totem may have been associated, because of the animal's nocturnal wanderings in forests, with the underworld whence, according to celtic belief, men sprang and whither they returned, and whence all vegetation came forth. the gallo-roman silvanus, probably an underworld god, wears a wolf-skin, and may thus be a wolf-god. there were various types of underworld gods, and this wolf-type--perhaps a local wolf-totem ancestor assimilated to a local "dispater"--may have been the god of a clan who imposed its mythic wolf origin on other clans. some celtic bronzes show a wolf swallowing a man who offers no resistance, probably because he is dead. the wolf is much bigger than the man, and hence may be a god.[ ] these bronzes would thus represent a belief setting forth the return of men to their totem ancestor after death, or to the underworld god connected with the totem ancestor, by saying that he devoured the dead, like certain polynesian divinities and the greek eurynomos. in many individual names the first part is the name of an animal or plant, the second is usually _genos_, "born from," or "son of," e.g. artigenos, matugenos, "son of the bear" (_artos_, _matu_-); urogenos, occurring as urogenertos, "he who has the strength of the son of the urus"; brannogenos, "son of the raven"; cunogenos, "son of the dog."[ ] these names may be derived from clan totem names, but they date back to a time when animals, trees, and men were on a common footing, and the possibility of human descent from a tree or an animal was believed in. professor rh[^y]s has argued from the frequency of personal names in ireland, like cúrói, "hound of rói," cú corb, "corb's hound," mac con, "hound's son," and maelchon, "hound's slave," that there existed a dog totem or god, not of the celts, but of a pre-celtic race.[ ] this assumes that totemism was non-celtic, an assumption based on preconceived notions of what celtic institutions ought to have been. the names, it should be observed, are personal, not clan names. ( ) _animal tabus._--besides the dislike of swine's flesh already noted among certain celtic groups, the killing and eating of the hare, hen, and goose were forbidden among the britons. cæsar says they bred these animals for amusement, but this reason assigned by him is drawn from his knowledge of the breeding of rare animals by rich romans as a pastime, since he had no knowledge of the breeding of sacred animals which were not eaten--a common totemic or animal cult custom.[ ] the hare was used for divination by boudicca,[ ] doubtless as a sacred animal, and it has been found that a sacred character still attaches to these animals in wales. a cock or hen was ceremonially killed and eaten on shrove tuesday, either as a former totemic animal, or, less likely, as a representative of the corn-spirit. the hare is not killed in certain districts, but occasionally it is ceremonially hunted and slain annually, while at yearly fairs the goose is sold exclusively and eaten.[ ] elsewhere, e.g. in devon, a ram or lamb is ceremonially slain and eaten, the eating being believed to confer luck.[ ] the ill-luck supposed to follow the killing of certain animals may also be reminiscent of totemic tabus. fish were not eaten by the pictish meatæ and caledonii, and a dislike of eating certain fresh-water fish was observed among certain eighteenth century highlanders.[ ] it has been already seen that certain fish living in sacred wells were tabu, and were believed to give oracles. heron's flesh was disliked in ireland, and it was considered unlucky to kill a swan in the hebrides.[ ] fatal results following upon the killing or eating of an animal with which the eater was connected by name or descent are found in the irish sagas. conaire was son of a woman and a bird which could take human shape, and it was forbidden to him to hunt birds. on one occasion he did so, and for this as well as the breaking of other tabus, he lost his life.[ ] it was tabu to cúchulainn, "the hound of culann," to eat dog's flesh, and, having been persuaded to do this, his strength went from him, and he perished. diarmaid, having been forbidden to hunt a boar with which his life was connected, was induced by fionn to break this tabu, and in consequence he lost his life by one of the boar's bristles entering his foot, or (in a variant) by the boar's killing him. another instance is found in a tale of certain men transformed to badgers. they were slain by cormac, and brought to his father tadg to eat. tadg unaccountably loathed them, because they were transformed men and his cousins.[ ] in this tale, which may contain the _débris_ of totemic usage, the loathing arises from the fact that the badgers are men--a common form of myths explanatory of misunderstood totemic customs, but the old idea of the relation between a man and his totem is not lost sight of. the other tales may also be reminiscent of a clan totem tabu, later centred in a mythic hero. perhaps the belief in lucky or unlucky animals, or in omens drawn from their appearance, may be based on old totem beliefs or in beliefs in the divinity of the animals. ( ) _sacramental eating of an animal._--the custom of "hunting the wren," found over the whole celtic area, is connected with animal worship and may be totemistic in origin. in spite of its small size, the wren was known as the king of birds, and in the isle of man it was hunted and killed on christmas or s. stephen's day. the bird was carried in procession from door to door, to the accompaniment of a chant, and was then solemnly buried, dirges being sung. in some cases a feather was left at each house and carefully treasured, and there are traces of a custom of boiling and eating the bird.[ ] in ireland, the hunt and procession were followed by a feast, the materials of which were collected from house to house, and a similar usage obtained in france, where the youth who killed the bird was called "king."[ ] in most of these districts it was considered unlucky or dangerous to kill the bird at any other time, yet it might be ceremonially killed once a year, the dead animal conferred luck, and was solemnly eaten or buried with signs of mourning. similar customs with animals which are actually worshipped are found elsewhere,[ ] and they lend support to the idea that the celts regarded the wren as a divine animal, or perhaps a totem animal, that it was necessary to slay it ritually, and to carry it round the houses of the community to obtain its divine influence, to eat it sacramentally or to bury it. probably like customs were followed in the case of other animals,[ ] and these may have given rise to such stories as that of the eating of macdatho's wonderful boar, as well as to myths which regarded certain animals, e.g. the swine, as the immortal food of the gods. other examples of ritual survivals of such sacramental eating have already been noted, and it is not improbable that the eating of a sacred pastoral animal occurred at samhain. ( ) _exogamy._--exogamy and the counting of descent through the mother are closely connected with totemism, and some traces of both are found among the celts. among the picts, who were, perhaps, a celtic group of the brythonic stock, these customs survived in the royal house. the kingship passed to a brother of the king by the same mother, or to a sister's son, while the king's father was never king and was frequently a "foreigner." similar rules of succession prevailed in early aryan royal houses--greek and roman,--and may, as dr. stokes thought, have existed at tara in ireland, while in a fian tale of oisin he marries the daughter of the king of tír na n-og, and succeeds him as king partly for that reason, and partly because he had beaten him in the annual race for the kingship.[ ] such an athletic contest for the kingship was known in early greece, and this tale may support the theory of the celtic priest-kingship, the holder of the office retaining it as long as he was not defeated or slain. traces of succession through a sister's son are found in the _mabinogion_, and livy describes how the mythic celtic king ambicatus sent not his own but his sister's sons to found new kingdoms.[ ] irish and welsh divine and heroic groups are named after the mother, not the father--the children of danu and of dôn, and the men of domnu. anu is mother of the gods, buanann of heroes. the eponymous ancestor of the scots is a woman, scota, and the earliest colonisers of ireland are women, not men. in the sagas gods and heroes have frequently a matronymic, and the father's name is omitted--lug mac ethnend, conchobar mac nessa, indech, son of de domnann, corpre, son of etain, and others. perhaps parallel to this is the custom of calling men after their wives--e.g. the son of fergus is fer tlachtga, tlachtga's husband.[ ] in the sagas, females (goddesses and heroines) have a high place accorded to them, and frequently choose their own lovers or husbands--customs suggestive of the matriarchate. thus what was once a general practice was later confined to the royal house or told of divine or heroic personages. possibly certain cases of incest may really be exaggerated accounts of misunderstood unions once permissible by totemic law. cæsar speaks of british polyandry, brothers, sons, and fathers sharing a wife in common.[ ] strabo speaks of irish unions with mothers and sisters, perhaps referring not to actual practice but to reports of saga tales of incest.[ ] dio cassius speaks of community of wives among the caledonians and meatæ, and jerome says much the same of the scoti and atecotti.[ ] these notices, with the exception of cæsar's, are vague, yet they refer to marriage customs different from those known to their reporters. in irish sagas incest legends circle round the descendants of etain--fathers unite with daughters, a son with his mother, a woman has a son by her three brothers (just as ecne was son of brian, iuchar, and iucharba), and is also mother of crimthan by that son.[ ] brother and sister unions occur both in irish and welsh story.[ ] in these cases incest with a mother cannot be explained by totemic usage, but the cases may be distorted reminiscences of what might occur under totemism, namely, a son taking the wives of his father other than his own mother, when those were of a different totem from his own. under totemism, brothers and sisters by different mothers having different totems, might possibly unite, and such unions are found in many mythologies. later, when totemism passed away, the unions, regarded with horror, would be supposed to take place between children by the same mother. according to totem law, a father might unite with his daughter, since she was of her mother's totem, but in practice this was frowned upon. polygamy also may co-exist with totemism, and of course involves the counting of descent through the mother as a rule. if, as is suggested by the "debility" of the ultonians, and by other evidence, the couvade was a celtic institution, this would also point to the existence of the matriarchate with the celts. to explain all this as pre-aryan, or to say that the classical notices refer to non-aryan tribes and that the evidence in the irish sagas only shows that the celts had been influenced by the customs of aboriginal tribes among whom they lived,[ ] is to neglect the fact that the customs are closely bound up with celtic life, while it leaves unexplained the influence of such customs upon a people whose own customs, according to this theory, were so totally different. the evidence, taken as a whole, points to the existence of totemism among the early celts, or, at all events, of the elements which elsewhere compose it. * * * * * celtic animal worship dates back to the primitive hunting and pastoral period, when men worshipped the animals which they hunted or reared. they may have apologised to the animal hunted and slain--a form of worship, or, where animals were not hunted or were reared and worshipped, one of them may have been slain annually and eaten to obtain its divine power. care was taken to preserve certain sacred animals which were not hunted, and this led to domestication, the abstinence of earlier generations leading to an increased food supply at a later time, when domesticated animals were freely slain. but the earlier sacramental slaying of such animals survived in the religious aspect of their slaughter at the beginning of winter.[ ] the cult of animals was also connected with totemic usage, though at a later stage this cult was replaced by that of anthropomorphic divinities, with the older divine animals as their symbols, sacrificial victims, and the like. this evolution now led to the removal of restrictions upon slaying and eating the animals. on the other hand, the more primitive animal cults may have remained here and there. animal cults were, perhaps, largely confined to men. with the rise of agriculture mainly as an art in the hands of women, and the consequent cult of the earth-mother, of fertility and corn-spirits probably regarded as female, the sacramental eating of the divine animal may have led to the slaying and eating of a human or animal victim supposed to embody such a spirit. later the two cults were bound to coalesce, and the divine animal and the animal embodiment of the vegetation spirit would not be differentiated. on the other hand, when men began to take part in women's fertility cults, the fact that such spirits were female or were perhaps coming to be regarded as goddesses, may have led men to envisage certain of the anthropomorphic animal divinities as goddesses, since some of these, e.g. epona and damona, are female. but with the increasing participation of men in agriculture, the spirits or goddesses of fertility would tend to become male, or the consorts or mothers of gods of fertility, though the earlier aspect was never lost sight of, witness the corn-mother. the evolution of divine priest-kings would cause them to take the place of the earlier priestesses of these cults, one of whom may have been the divine victim. yet in local survivals certain cults were still confined to women, and still had their priestesses.[ ] footnotes: [ ] reinach, _bf_ , . the bull and three cranes may be a rebus on the name of the bull, _tarvos trikarenos_, "the three-headed," or perhaps _trikeras_, "three-horned." [ ] plutarch, _marius_, ; cæsar, vii. ; d'arbois, _les celtes_, . [ ] holder, _s.v._ _tarba_, _tarouanna_, _tarvisium_, etc.; d'arbois, _les druides_, ; s. greg. _in glor. conf._ . [ ] _cil_ xiii. ; _rc_ xxv. ; holder, ii. . [ ] leahy, ii. f.; curtin, _mfi_ , ; joyce, _pn_ i. ; rees, . cf. ailred, _life of s. ninian_, c. . [ ] jocelyn, _vita s. kentig._ c. ; rees, , . [ ] tacitus, _germ._ xlv.; blanchet, i. , ; reinach, _bf_ f., _cmr_ i. ; bertrand, _arch. celt._ . [ ] pennant, _tour in scotland_, ; reinach, _rc_ xxii. , _cmr_ i. . [ ] pausan, vii. , ; johnson, _journey_, . [ ] joyce, _sh_ ii. ; _it_ i. , (bricriu's feast and the tale of macdatho's swine). [ ] strabo, iv. . , says these swine attacked strangers. varro, _de re rustica_, ii. , admires their vast size. cf. polyb. ii. . [ ] the hunt is first mentioned in nennius, c. , and then appears as a full-blown folk-tale in _kulhwych_, loth, i. f. here the boar is a transformed prince. [ ] i have already suggested, p. , _supra_, that the places where gwydion halted with the swine of elysium were sites of a swine-cult. [ ] _rc_ xiii. . cf. also _tos_ vi. "the enchanted pigs of oengus," and campbell, _lf_ . [ ] _l'anthropologie_, vi. ; greenwell, _british barrows_, , , ; _arch. rev._ ii. . [ ] _rev. arch._ , . [ ] reinach, "zagreus le serpent cornu," _rev. arch_. xxxv. . [ ] reinach, _bf_ ; bertrand, . [ ] "cúchulainn's sick-bed," d'arbois, v. . [ ] see reinach, _cmr_ i. . [ ] _cil_ xiii. , xii. . rh[^y]s, however, derives artaios from _ar_, "ploughed land," and equates the god with mercurius cultor. [ ] _cil_ xii. - ; d'arbois, _rc_ x. . [ ] for all these place and personal names, see holder and d'arbois, _op. cit. les celtes_, f., _les druides_, f. [ ] see p. , _supra_; reinach, _cmr_ i. , _rev. arch._ ii. . [ ] o'grady, ii. . [ ] epona is fully discussed by reinach in his _epona_, , and in articles (illustrated) in _rev. arch._ vols. , , , , etc. see also ii. [ ], . [ ] reinach suggests that this may explain why vercingetorix, in view of siege by the romans, sent away his horses. they were too sacred to be eaten. cæsar, vii. ; reinach, _rc_ xxvii. f. [ ] juvenal, viii. ; apul. _metam._ iii. ; min. felix, _octav._ xxvii. . [ ] for the inscriptions, see holder, _s.v._ "epona." [ ] _cil_ iii. . [ ] _cil_ xiii. ; reinach, _bf_ , _cmr_ i. , _répert. de la stat._ ii. ; holder, ii. - . [ ] granger, _worship of the romans_, ; kennedy, . [ ] grimm, _teut. myth._ , , , - . [ ] frazer, _golden bough_{ }, ii. , . [ ] cæsar, v. , . possibly the dea bibracte of the aeduans was a beaver goddess. [ ] o'curry, _mc_ ii. ; elton, . [ ] girald. cambr. _top. hib._ ii. , _rc_ ii. ; _folk-lore_, v. ; _it_ iii. . [ ] o'grady, ii. , ; campbell, _the fians_, ; thiers, _traité des superstitions_, ii. . [ ] lady guest, ii. f. [ ] blanchet, i. , , , . [ ] see p. , _supra_. [ ] diod. sic. v. ; _it_ iii. ; _rc_ xxvi. ; rh[^y]s, _hl_ . [ ] _man. hist. brit._ p. x. [ ] herodian, iii. , ; duald macfirbis in irish _nennius_, p. vii; cæsar, v. ; _zcp_ iii. . [ ] see reinach, "les carnassiers androphages dans l'art gallo-romain," _cmr_ i. . [ ] see holder, _s.v._ [ ] rh[^y]s, _cb_{ } . [ ] cæsar, v. . [ ] dio cassius, lxii. . [ ] see a valuable paper by n.w. thomas, "survivance du culte des animaux dans le pays de galles," in _rev. de l'hist. des religions_, xxxviii. f., and a similar paper by gomme, _arch. rev._ , f. both writers seem to regard these cults as pre-celtic. [ ] gomme, _ethnol. in folklore_, , _village community_, . [ ] dio cass. lxxii. ; logan, _scottish gael_, ii. . [ ] joyce, _sh_ ii. ; martin, . [ ] _rc_ xxii. , , - . [ ] _it_ iii. . [ ] waldron, _isle of man_, ; train, _account of the isle of man_, ii. . [ ] vallancey, _coll. de reb. hib._ iv. no. ; clément, _fétes_, . for english customs, see henderson, _folklore of the northern counties_, . [ ] frazer, _golden bough_{ }, ii. , , . [ ] for other welsh instances of the danger of killing certain birds, see thomas, _op. cit._ xxxviii. . [ ] frazer, _kingship_, ; stokes, _rc_ xvi. ; larminie, _myths and folk-tales_, . [ ] see rh[^y]s, _welsh people_, ; livy, v. . [ ] cf. _it_ iii. , . [ ] cæsar, v. . [ ] strabo, iv. . . [ ] dio cass. lxxvi. ; jerome, _adv. jovin._ ii. . giraldus has much to say of incest in wales, probably actual breaches of moral law among a barbarous people (_descr. wales_, ii. ). [ ] _rc_ xii. , , xv. , xvi. ; _ll_ _a_, _b_. in various irish texts a child is said to have three fathers--probably a reminiscence of polyandry. see p. , _supra_, and _rc_ xxiii. . [ ] _it_ i. ; loth, i. f.; rh[^y]s, _hl_ . [ ] zimmer, "matriarchy among the picts," in henderson, _leabhar nan gleann_. [ ] see p. , _infra_. [ ] see p. , _infra_. chapter xv. cosmogony. whether the early celts regarded heaven and earth as husband and wife is uncertain. such a conception is world-wide, and myth frequently explains in different ways the reason of the separation of the two. among the polynesians the children of heaven and earth--the winds, forests, and seas personified--angry at being crushed between their parents in darkness, rose up and separated them. this is in effect the greek myth of uranus, or heaven, and gæa, or earth, divorced by their son kronos, just as in hindu myth dyaus, or sky, and prithivi, or earth, were separated by indra. uranus in greece gave place to zeus, and, in india, dyaus became subordinate to indra. thus the primitive heaven personified recedes, and his place is taken by a more individualised god. but generally mother earth remains a constant quantity. earth was nearer man and was more unchanging than the inconstant sky, while as the producer of the fruits of the earth, she was regarded as the source of all things, and frequently remained as an important divinity when a crowd of other divinities became prominent. this is especially true of agricultural peoples, who propitiate earth with sacrifice, worship her with orgiastic rites, or assist her processes by magic. with advancing civilisation such a goddess is still remembered as the friend of man, and, as in the eleusinia, is represented sorrowing and rejoicing like man himself. or where a higher religion ousts the older one, the ritual is still retained among the folk, though its meaning may be forgotten. the celts may thus have possessed the heaven and earth myth, but all trace of it has perished. there are, however, remnants of myths showing how the sky is supported by trees, a mountain, or by pillars. a high mountain near the sources of the rhone was called "the column of the sun," and was so lofty as to hide the sun from the people of the south.[ ] it may have been regarded as supporting the sky, while the sun moved round it. in an old irish hymn and its gloss, brigit and patrick are compared to the two pillars of the world, probably alluding to some old myth of sky or earth resting on pillars.[ ] traces of this also exist in folk-belief, as in the accounts of islands resting on four pillars, or as in the legend of the church of kernitou which rests on four pillars on a congealed sea and which will be submerged when the sea liquefies--a combination of the cosmogonic myth with that of a great inundation.[ ] in some mythologies a bridge or ladder connects heaven and earth. there may be a survival of some such myth in an irish poem which speaks of the _drochet bethad_, or "bridge of life," or in the _drochaid na flaitheanas_, or "bridge of heaven," of hebridean folk-lore.[ ] those gods who were connected with the sky may have been held to dwell there or on the mountain supporting it. others, like the celtic dispater, dwelt underground. some were connected with mounds and hills, or were supposed to have taken up their abode in them. others, again, dwelt in a distant region, the celtic elysium, which, once the celts reached the sea, became a far-off island. those divinities worshipped in groves were believed to dwell there and to manifest themselves at midday or midnight, while such objects of nature as rivers, wells, and trees were held to be the abode of gods or spirits. thus it is doubtful whether the celts ever thought of their gods as dwelling in one olympus. the tuatha dé danann are said to have come from heaven, but this may be the mere assertion of some scribe who knew not what to make of this group of beings. in celtic belief men were not so much created by gods as descended from them. "all the gauls assert that they are descended from dispater, and this, they say, has been handed down to them by the druids."[ ] dispater was a celtic underworld god of fertility, and the statement probably presupposes a myth, like that found among many primitive peoples, telling how men once lived underground and thence came to the surface of the earth. but it also points to their descent from the god of the underworld. thither the dead returned to him who was ancestor of the living as well as lord of the dead.[ ] on the other hand, if the earth had originally been thought of as a female, she as earth-mother would be ancestress of men. but her place in the myth would easily be taken by the earth or under-earth god, perhaps regarded as her son or her consort. in other cases, clans, families, or individuals often traced their descent to gods or divine animals or plants. classical writers occasionally speak of the origin of branches of the celtic race from eponymous founders, perhaps from their knowledge of existing celtic myths.[ ] ammianus marcellinus also reports a druidic tradition to the effect that some gauls were indigenous, some had come from distant islands, and others from beyond the rhine.[ ] but this is not so much a myth of origins, as an explanation of the presence of different peoples in gaul--the aborigines, the celtæ, and the belgic gauls. m. d'arbois assumes that "distant islands" means the celtic elysium, which he regards as the land of the dead,[ ] but the phrase is probably no more than a distorted reminiscence of the far-off lands whence early groups of celts had reached gaul. of the creation of the world no complete myth has survived, though from a gloss to the _senchus mór_ we learn that the druids, like the br[=a]hmans, boasted that they had made sun, moon, earth, and sea--a boast in keeping with their supposed powers over the elements.[ ] certain folk-beliefs, regarding the origin of different parts of nature, bear a close resemblance to primitive cosmogonic myths, and they may be taken as _disjecta membra_ of similar myths held by the celts and perhaps taught by the druids. thus sea, rivers, or springs arose from the micturition of a giant, fairy, or saint, or from their sweat or blood. islands are rocks cast by giants, and mountains are the material thrown up by them as they were working on the earth. wells sprang up from the blood of a martyr or from the touch of a saint's or a fairy's staff.[ ] the sea originated from a magic cask given by god to a woman. the spigot, when opened, could not be closed again, and the cask never ceased running until the waters covered the earth--a tale with savage parallels.[ ] in all these cases, giant, saint, or fairy has doubtless taken the place of a god, since the stories have a very primitive _facies_. the giant is frequently gargantua, probably himself once a divinity. other references in irish texts point to the common cosmogonic myth of the earth having gradually assumed its present form. thus many new lakes and plains are said to have been formed in ireland during the time of partholan and nemed, the plains being apparently built up out of existing materials.[ ] in some cases the formation of a lake was the result of digging the grave of some personage after whom the lake was then named.[ ] here we come upon the familiar idea of the danger of encroaching on the domain of a deity, e.g. that of the earth-god, by digging the earth, with the consequent punishment by a flood. the same conception is found in celtic stories of a lake or river formed from the overflowing of a sacred well through human carelessness or curiosity, which led to the anger of the divinity of the well.[ ] or, again, a town or castle is submerged on account of the wickedness of its inhabitants, the waters being produced by the curse of god or a saint (replacing a pagan god) and forming a lake.[ ] these may be regarded as forms of a celtic deluge-myth, which in one case, that of the welsh story of the ship of nevyd, which saved dwyvan and dwyfach and a pair of all kinds of animals when lake llion overflowed, has apparently borrowed from the biblical story.[ ] in other cases lakes are formed from the tears of a god, e.g. manannan, whose tears at the death of his son formed three lochs in erin.[ ] apollonius reports that the waters of eridanus originated from the tears of apollo when driven from heaven by his father.[ ] this story, which he says is celtic, has been clothed by him in a greek form, and the god in question may have been belenos, equated with apollo. sometimes the formation of streams was ascribed to great hail-storms--an evident mythic rendering of the damage done by actual spates, while the irish myths of "illimitable sea-bursts," of which three particular instances are often mentioned, were doubtless the result of the experience of tidal waves. although no complete account of the end of all things, like that of the scandinavian ragnarok, has survived, scattered hints tell of its former existence. strabo says that the druids taught that "fire and water must one day prevail"--an evident belief in some final cataclysm.[ ] this is also hinted at in the words of certain gauls to alexander, telling him that what they feared most of all was the fall of the heavens upon their heads.[ ] in other words, they feared what would be the signal of the end of all things. on irish ground the words of conchobar may refer to this. he announced that he would rescue the captives and spoil taken by medb, unless the heavens fell, and the earth burst open, and the sea engulphed all things.[ ] such a myth mingled with christian beliefs may underlie the prophecy of badb after mag-tured regarding the evils to come and the end of the world, and that of fercertne in the _colloquy of the two sages_.[ ] both have a curious resemblance to the sybil's prophecy of doom in the voluspa. if the gods themselves were involved in such a catastrophe, it would not be surprising, since in some aspects their immortality depended on their eating and drinking immortal food and drink.[ ] footnotes: [ ] avienus, _ora maritima_, f. [ ] _it_ i. ; gaidoz, _zcp_ i. . [ ] _annales de bretagne_, x. . [ ] _it_ i. , cf. ; _folk-lore_, vi. . [ ] cæsar, vi. . [ ] see p. , _infra_. [ ] diod. sic. v. ; appian, _illyrica_, . [ ] amm. marcel, xv. . [ ] d'arbois, ii. , xii. . [ ] _antient laws of ireland_, i. . in one ms. adam is said to have been created thus--his body of earth, his blood of the sea, his face of the sun, his breath of the wind, etc. this is also found in a frisian tale (vigfusson-powell, _corpus poet. bor._ i. ), and both stories present an inversion of well-known myths about the creation of the universe from the members of a giant. [ ] sébillot, i. f., ii. , , , , , - . cf. _rc_ xv. , xvi. . [ ] sébillot, ii. . [ ] _ll_ ; keating, , . [ ] _rc_ xv. , xvi. . [ ] see p. , _supra_. [ ] sébillot, ii. f., , ; see p. , _infra_. [ ] _triads_ in loth, ii. , ; rh[^y]s, _hl_ , . [ ] _rc_ xvi. , . [ ] apoll. iv. f. [ ] strabo, iv. . . [ ] arrian, _anab._ i. . ; strabo, vii. . . cf. jullian, . [ ] _ll_ ; miss hull, . [ ] _rc_ xii. , xxvi. . [ ] a possible survival of a world-serpent myth may be found in "da derga's hostel" (_rc_ xxii. ), where we hear of leviathan that surrounds the globe and strikes with his tail to overwhelm the world. but this may be a reflection of norse myths of the midgard serpent, sometimes equated with leviathan. chapter xvi. sacrifice, prayer, and divination. the semites are often considered the worst offenders in the matter of human sacrifice, but in this, according to classical evidence, they were closely rivalled by the celts of gaul. they offered human victims on the principle of a life for a life, or to propitiate the gods, or in order to divine the future from the entrails of the victim. we shall examine the celtic custom of human sacrifice from these points of view first. cæsar says that those afflicted with disease or engaged in battle or danger offer human victims or vow to do so, because unless man's life be given for man's life, the divinity of the gods cannot be appeased.[ ] the theory appears to have been that the gods sent disease or ills when they desired a human life, but that any life would do; hence one in danger might escape by offering another in his stead. in some cases the victims may have been offered to disease demons or diseases personified, such as celtic imagination still believes in,[ ] rather than to gods, or, again, they may have been offered to native gods of healing. coming danger could also be averted on the same principle, and though the victims were usually slaves, in times of great peril wives and children were sacrificed.[ ] after a defeat, which showed that the gods were still implacable, the wounded and feeble were slain, or a great leader would offer himself.[ ] or in such a case the celts would turn their weapons against themselves, making of suicide a kind of sacrifice, hoping to bring victory to the survivors.[ ] the idea of the victim being offered on the principle of a life for a life is illustrated by a custom at marseilles in time of pestilence. one of the poorer classes offered himself to be kept at the public expense for some time. he was then led in procession, clad in sacred boughs, and solemnly cursed, and prayer was made that on him might fall the evils of the community. then he was cast headlong down. here the victim stood for the lives of the city and was a kind of scape-victim, like those at the thargelia.[ ] human victims were also offered by way of thanksgiving after victory, and vows were often made before a battle, promising these as well as part of the spoil. for this reason the celts would never ransom their captives, but offered them in sacrifice, animals captured being immolated along with them.[ ] the method of sacrifice was slaughter by sword or spear, hanging, impaling, dismembering, and drowning. some gods were propitiated by one particular mode of sacrifice--taranis by burning, teutates by suffocation, esus (perhaps a tree-god) by hanging on a tree. drowning meant devoting the victim to water-divinities.[ ] other propitiatory sacrifices took place at intervals, and had a general or tribal character, the victims being criminals or slaves or even members of the tribe. the sacrificial pile had the rude outline of a human form, the limbs of osier, enclosing human as well as some animal victims, who perished by fire. diodorus says that the victims were malefactors who had been kept in prison for five years, and that some of them were impaled.[ ] this need not mean that the holocausts were quinquennial, for they may have been offered yearly, at midsummer, to judge by the ritual of modern survivals.[ ] the victims perished in that element by which the sun-god chiefly manifested himself, and by the sacrifice his powers were augmented, and thus growth and fertility were promoted. these holocausts were probably extensions of an earlier slaying of a victim representing the spirit of vegetation, though their value in aiding fertility would be still in evidence. this is suggested by strabo's words that the greater the number of murders the greater would be the fertility of the land, probably meaning that there would then be more criminals as sacrificial victims.[ ] varro also speaks of human sacrifice to a god equated with saturn, offered because of all seeds the human race is the best, i.e. human victims are most productive of fertility.[ ] thus, looked at in one way, the later rite was a propitiatory sacrifice, in another it was an act of magico-religious ritual springing from the old rite of the divine victim. but from both points of view the intention was the same--the promotion of fertility in field and fold. divination with the bodies of human victims is attested by tacitus, who says that "the druids consult the gods in the palpitating entrails of men," and by strabo, who describes the striking down of the victim by the sword and the predicting of the future from his convulsive movements.[ ] to this we shall return. human sacrifice in gaul was put down by the romans, who were amazed at its extent, suetonius summing up the whole religion in a phrase--_druidarum religionem diræ immanitatis_.[ ] by the year a.d. it had ceased, though victims were offered symbolically, the druids pretending to strike them and drawing a little blood from them.[ ] only the pressure of a higher civilisation forced the so-called philosophic druids to abandon their revolting customs. among the celts of britain human sacrifice still prevailed in a.d.[ ] dio cassius describes the refinements of cruelty practised on female victims (prisoners of war) in honour of the goddess andrasta--their breasts cut off and placed over their mouths, and a stake driven through their bodies, which were then hung in the sacred grove.[ ] tacitus speaks of the altars in mona (anglesey) laved with human blood. as to the irish celts, patriotic writers have refused to believe them guilty of such practices,[ ] but there is no _a priori_ reason which need set them apart from other races on the same level of civilisation in this custom. the irish texts no doubt exaggerate the number of the victims, but they certainly attest the existence of the practice. from the _dindsenchas_, which describes many archaic usages, we learn that "the firstlings of every issue and the chief scions of every clan" were offered to cromm cruaich--a sacrifice of the first-born,--and that at one festival the prostrations of the worshippers were so violent that three-fourths of them perished, not improbably an exaggerated memory of orgiastic rites.[ ] dr. joyce thinks that these notices are as incredible as the mythic tales in the _dindsenchas_. yet the tales were doubtless quite credible to the pagan irish, and the ritual notices are certainly founded on fact. dr. joyce admits the existence of foundation sacrifices in ireland, and it is difficult to understand why human victims may not have been offered on other occasions also. the purpose of the sacrifice, namely, fertility, is indicated in the poetical version of the cult of cromm-- "milk and corn they would ask from him speedily, in return for one-third of their healthy issue."[ ] the nemedian sacrifice to the fomorians is said to have been two-thirds of their children and of the year's supply of corn and milk[ ]--an obvious misunderstanding, the victims really being offered to obtain corn and milk. the numbers are exaggerated,[ ] but there can be no doubt as to the nature of the sacrifice--the offering of an agricultural folk to the divinities who helped or retarded growth. possibly part of the flesh of the victims, at one time identified with the god, was buried in the fields or mixed with the seed-corn, in order to promote fertility. the blood was sprinkled on the image of the god. such practices were as obnoxious to christian missionaries as they had been to the roman government, and we learn that s. patrick preached against "the slaying of yoke oxen and milch cows and the burning of the first-born progeny" at the fair of taillte.[ ] as has been seen, the irish version of the perseus and andromeda story, in which the victim is offered not to a dragon, but to the fomorians, may have received this form from actual ritual in which human victims were sacrificed to the fomorians.[ ] in a japanese version of the same story the maiden is offered to the sea-gods. another tale suggests the offering of human victims to remove blight. in this case the land suffers from blight because the adulteress becuma, married to the king of erin, has pretended to be a virgin. the druids announced that the remedy was to slay the son of an undefiled couple and sprinkle the doorposts and the land with his blood. such a youth was found, but at his mother's request a two-bellied cow, in which two birds were found, was offered in his stead.[ ] in another instance in the _dindsenchas_, hostages, including the son of a captive prince, are offered to remove plagues--an equivalent to the custom of the gauls.[ ] human sacrifices were also offered when the foundation of a new building was laid. such sacrifices are universal, and are offered to propitiate the earth spirits or to provide a ghostly guardian for the building. a celtic legend attaches such a sacrifice to the founding of the monastery at iona. s. oran agrees to adopt s. columba's advice "to go under the clay of this island to hallow it," and as a reward he goes straight to heaven.[ ] the legend is a semi-christian form of the memory of an old pagan custom, and it is attached to oran probably because he was the first to be buried in the island. in another version, nothing is said of the sacrifice. the two saints are disputing about the other world, and oran agrees to go for three days into the grave to settle the point at issue. at the end of that time the grave is opened, and the triumphant oran announces that heaven and hell are not such as they are alleged to be. shocked at his latitudinarian sentiments, columba ordered earth to be piled over him, lest he cause a scandal to the faith, and oran was accordingly buried alive.[ ] in a welsh instance, vortigern's castle cannot be built, for the stones disappear as soon as they are laid. wise men, probably druids, order the sacrifice of a child born without a father, and the sprinkling of the site with his blood.[ ] "groaning hostages" were placed under a fort in ireland, and the foundation of the palace of emain macha was also laid with a human victim.[ ] many similar legends are connected with buildings all over the celtic area, and prove the popularity of the pagan custom. the sacrifice of human victims on the funeral pile will be discussed in a later chapter. of all these varieties of human sacrifice, those offered for fertility, probably at beltane or midsummer, were the most important. their propitiatory nature is of later origin, and their real intention was to strengthen the divinity by whom the processes of growth were directed. still earlier, one victim represented the divinity, slain that his life might be revived in vigour. the earth was sprinkled with his blood and fed with his flesh in order to fertilise it, and possibly the worshippers partook sacramentally of the flesh. propitiatory holocausts of human victims had taken the place of the slain representative of a god, but their value in promoting fertility was not forgotten. the sacramental aspect of the rite is perhaps to be found in pliny's words regarding "the slaying of a human being as a most religious act and eating the flesh as a wholesome remedy" among the britons.[ ] this may merely refer to "medicinal cannibalism," such as still survives in italy, but the passage rather suggests sacramental cannibalism, the eating of part of a divine victim, such as existed in mexico and elsewhere. other acts of cannibalism are referred to by classical writers. diodorus says the irish ate their enemies, and pausanias describes the eating the flesh and drinking the blood of children among the galatian celts. drinking out of a skull the blood of slain (sacrificial) enemies is mentioned by ammianus and livy, and solinus describes the irish custom of bathing the face in the blood of the slain and drinking it.[ ] in some of these cases the intention may simply have been to obtain the dead enemy's strength, but where a sacrificial victim was concerned, the intention probably went further than this. the blood of dead relatives was also drunk in order to obtain their virtues, or to be brought into closer _rapport_ with them.[ ] this is analogous to the custom of blood brotherhood, which also existed among the celts and continued as a survival in the western isles until a late date.[ ] one group of celtic human sacrifices was thus connected with primitive agricultural ritual, but the warlike energies of the celts extended the practice. victims were easily obtained, and offered to the gods of war. yet even these sacrifices preserved some trace of the older rite, in which the victim represented a divinity or spirit. head-hunting, described in classical writings and in irish texts, had also a sacrificial aspect. the heads of enemies were hung at the saddle-bow or fixed on spears, as the conquerors returned home with songs of victory.[ ] this gruesome picture often recurs in the texts. thus, after the death of cúchulainn, conall cernach returned to emer with the heads of his slayers strung on a withy. he placed each on a stake and told emer the name of the owner. a celtic _oppidum_ or a king's palace must have been as gruesome as a dayak or solomon island village. everywhere were stakes crowned with heads, and the walls of houses were adorned with them. poseidonius tells how he sickened at such a sight, but gradually became more accustomed to it.[ ] a room in the palace was sometimes a store for such heads, or they were preserved in cedar-wood oil or in coffers. they were proudly shown to strangers as a record of conquest, but they could not be sold for their weight in gold.[ ] after a battle a pile of heads was made and the number of the slain was counted, and at annual festivals warriors produced the tongues of enemies as a record of their prowess.[ ] these customs had a religious aspect. in cutting off a head the celt saluted the gods, and the head was offered to them or to ancestral spirits, and sometimes kept in grove or temple.[ ] the name given to the heads of the slain in ireland, the "mast of macha," shows that they were dedicated to her, just as skulls found under an altar had been devoted to the celtic mars.[ ] probably, as among dayaks, american indians, and others, possession of a head was a guarantee that the ghost of its owner would be subservient to its celtic possessor, either in this world or in the next, since they are sometimes found buried in graves along with the dead.[ ] or, suspended in temples, they became an actual and symbolical offering of the life of their owners, if, as is probable, the life or soul was thought to be in the head. hence, too, the custom of drinking from the skull of the slain had the intention of transferring his powers directly to the drinker.[ ] milk drunk from the skull of conall cernach restored to enfeebled warriors their pristine strength,[ ] and a folk-survival in the highlands--that of drinking from the skull of a suicide (here taking the place of the slain enemy) in order to restore health--shows the same idea at work. all these practices had thus one end, that of the transference of spirit force--to the gods, to the victor who suspended the head from his house, and to all who drank from the skull. represented in bas-relief on houses or carved on dagger-handles, the head may still have been thought to possess talismanic properties, giving power to house or weapon. possibly this cult of human heads may have given rise to the idea of a divine head like those figured on gaulish images, or described, e.g., in the story of bran. his head preserved the land from invasion, until arthur disinterred it,[ ] the story being based on the belief that heads or bodies of great warriors still had a powerful influence.[ ] the representation of the head of a god, like his whole image, would be thought to possess the same preservative power. a possible survival of the sacrifice of the aged may be found in a breton custom of applying a heavy club to the head of old persons to lighten their death agonies, the clubs having been formerly used to kill them. they are kept in chapels, and are regarded with awe.[ ] animal victims were also frequently offered. the galatian celts made a yearly sacrifice to their artemis of a sheep, goat, or calf, purchased with money laid by for each animal caught in the chase. their dogs were feasted and crowned with flowers.[ ] further details of this ritual are unfortunately lacking. animals captured in war were sacrificed to the war-gods by the gauls, or to a river-god, as when the horses of the defeated host were thrown into the rhine by the gaulish conquerors of mallius.[ ] we have seen that the white oxen sacrificed at the mistletoe ritual may once have been representatives of the vegetation-spirit, which also animated the oak and the mistletoe. among the insular celts animal sacrifices are scarcely mentioned in the texts, probably through suppression by later scribes, but the lives of irish saints contain a few notices of the custom, e.g. that of s. patrick, which describes the gathering of princes, chiefs, and druids at tara to sacrifice victims to idols.[ ] in ireland the peasantry still kill a sheep or heifer for s. martin on his festival, and ill-luck is thought to follow the non-observance of the rite.[ ] similar sacrifices on saints' days in scotland and wales occurred in christian times.[ ] an excellent instance is that of the sacrifice of bulls at gairloch for the cure of lunatics on s. maelrubha's day (august th). libations of milk were also poured out on the hills, ruined chapels were perambulated, wells and stones worshipped, and divination practised. these rites, occurring in the seventeenth century, were condemned by the presbytery of dingwall, but with little effect, and some of them still survive.[ ] in all these cases the saint has succeeded to the ritual of an earlier god. mr. cook surmises that s. maelrubha was the successor of a divine king connected with an oak and sacred well, the god or spirit of which was incarnate in him. these divine kings may at one time have been slain, or a bull, similarly incarnating the god or spirit, may have been killed as a surrogate. this slaying was at a later time regarded as a sacrifice and connected with the cure of madness.[ ] the rite would thus be on a parallel with the slaying of the oxen at the mistletoe gathering, as already interpreted. eilean maree (maelrubha), where the tree and well still exist, was once known as eilean mo righ ("the island of my king"), or eilean a mhor righ ("of the great king"), the king having been worshipped as a god. this piece of corroborative evidence was given by the oldest inhabitant to sir arthur mitchell.[ ] the people also spoke of the god mourie. other survivals of animal sacrifice are found in cases of cattle-plague, as in morayshire sixty years ago, in wales, devon, and the isle of man. the victim was burned and its ashes sprinkled on the herd, or it was thrown into the sea or over a precipice.[ ] perhaps it was both a propitiatory sacrifice and a scape-animal, carrying away the disease, though the rite may be connected with the former slaying of a divine animal whose death benefited all the cattle of the district. in the hebrides the spirits of earth and air were propitiated every quarter by throwing outside the door a cock, hen, duck, or cat, which was supposed to be seized by them. if the rite was neglected, misfortune was sure to follow. the animal carried away evils from the house, and was also a propitiatory sacrifice. the blood of victims was sprinkled on altars, images, and trees, or, as among the boii, it was placed in a skull adorned with gold.[ ] other libations are known mainly from folk-survivals. thus breton fishermen salute reefs and jutting promontories, say prayers, and pour a glass of wine or throw a biscuit or an old garment into the sea.[ ] in the hebrides a curious rite was performed on maundy thursday. after midnight a man walked into the sea, and poured ale or gruel on the waters, at the same time singing: "o god of the sea, put weed in the drawing wave, to enrich the ground, to shower on us food." those on shore took up the strain in chorus.[ ] thus the rite was described by one who took part in it a century ago, but martin, writing in the seventeenth century, gives other details. the cup of ale was offered with the words, "shony, i give you this cup of ale, hoping that you will be so kind as to send plenty of seaweed for enriching our ground for the ensuing year." all then went in silence to the church and remained there for a time, after which they indulged in an orgy out-of-doors. this orgiastic rite may once have included the intercourse of the sexes--a powerful charm for fertility. "shony" was some old sea-god, and another divinity of the sea, brianniul, was sometimes invoked for the same purpose.[ ] until recently milk was poured on "gruagach stones" in the hebrides, as an offering to the gruagach, a brownie who watched over herds, and who had taken the place of a god.[ ] prayer. prayer accompanied most rites, and probably consisted of traditional formulæ, on the exact recital of which depended their value. the druids invoked a god during the mistletoe rite, and at a galatian sacrifice, offered to bring birds to destroy grasshoppers, prayer was made to the birds themselves.[ ] in mona, at the roman invasion, the druids raised their arms and uttered prayers for deliverance, at the same time cursing the invaders, and boudicca invoked the protection of the goddess andrasta in a similar manner.[ ] chants were sung by the "priestesses" of sena to raise storms, and they were also sung by warriors both before and after a battle, to the accompaniment of a measured dance and the clashing of arms.[ ] these warrior chants were composed by bards, and probably included invocations of the war-gods and the recital of famous deeds. they may also have been of the nature of spells ensuring the help of the gods, like the war-cries uttered by a whole army to the sound of trumpets.[ ] these consisted of the name of a god, of a tribe or clan, or of some well-known phrase. as the recital of a divine name is often supposed to force the god to help, these cries had thus a magical aspect, while they also struck terror into the foe.[ ] warriors also advanced dancing to the fray, and they are depicted on coins dancing on horseback or before a sword, which was worshipped by the celts.[ ] the celtiberian festival at the full moon consisted entirely of dancing. the dance is a primitive method of expressing religious emotion, and where it imitates certain actions, it is intended by magical influence to crown the actions themselves with success. it is thus a kind of acted prayer with magical results. divination. a special class of diviners existed among the celts, but the druids practised divination, as did also the unofficial layman. classical writers speak of the celts as of all nations the most devoted to, and the most experienced in, the science of divination. divination with a human victim is described by diodorus. libations were poured over him, and he was then slain, auguries being drawn from the method of his fall, the movements of his limbs, and the flowing of his blood. divination with the entrails was used in galatia, gaul, and britain.[ ] beasts and birds also provided omens. the course taken by a hare let loose gave an omen of success to the britons, and in ireland divination was used with a sacrificial animal.[ ] among birds the crow was pre-eminent, and two crows are represented speaking into the ears of a man on a bas-relief at compiègne. the celts believed that the crow had shown where towns should be founded, or had furnished a remedy against poison, and it was also an arbiter of disputes.[ ] artemidorus describes how, at a certain place, there were two crows. persons having a dispute set out two heaps of sweetmeats, one for each disputant. the birds swooped down upon them, eating one and dispersing the other. he whose heap had been scattered won the case.[ ] birds were believed to have guided the migrating celts, and their flight furnished auguries, because, as deiotaurus gravely said, birds never lie. divination by the voices of birds was used by the irish druids.[ ] omens were drawn from the direction of the smoke and flames of sacred fires and from the condition of the clouds.[ ] wands of yew were carried by druids--"the wand of druidism" of many folk-tales--and were used perhaps as divining-rods. ogams were also engraved on rods of yews, and from these druids divined hidden things. by this means the druid dalan discovered where etain had been hidden by the god mider. the method used may have been that of drawing one of the rods by lot and then divining from the marks upon it. a similar method was used to discover the route to be taken by invaders, the result being supposed to depend on divine interposition.[ ] the knowledge of astronomy ascribed by cæsar to the druids was probably of a simple kind, and much mixed with astrology, and though it furnished the data for computing a simple calendar, its use was largely magical.[ ] irish diviners forecast the time to build a house by the stars, and the date at which s. columba's education should begin, was similarly discovered.[ ] the _imbas forosnai_, "illumination between the hands," was used by the _filé_ to discover hidden things. he chewed a piece of raw flesh and placed it as an offering to the images of the gods whom he desired to help him. if enlightenment did not come by the next day, he pronounced incantations on his palms, which he then placed on his cheeks before falling asleep. the revelation followed in a dream, or sometimes after awaking.[ ] perhaps the animal whose flesh was eaten was a sacred one. another method was that of the _teinm laegha_. the _filé_ made a verse and repeated it over some person or thing regarding which he sought information, or he placed his staff on the person's body and so obtained what he sought. the rite was also preceded by sacrifice; hence s. patrick prohibited both it and the _imbas forosnai_.[ ] another incantation, the _cétnad_, was sung through the fist to discover the track of stolen cattle or of the thief. if this did not bring enlightenment, the _filé_ went to sleep and obtained the knowledge through a dream.[ ] another _cétnad_ for obtaining information regarding length of life was addressed to the seven daughters of the sea. perhaps the incantation was repeated mechanically until the seer fell into a kind of trance. divination by dreams was also used by the continental celts.[ ] other methods resemble "trance-utterance." "a great obnubilation was conjured up for the bard so that he slept a heavy sleep, and things magic-begotten were shewn to him to enunciate," apparently in his sleep. this was called "illumination by rhymes," and a similar method was used in wales. when consulted, the seer roared violently until he was beside himself, and out of his ravings the desired information was gathered. when aroused from this ecstatic condition, he had no remembrance of what he had uttered. giraldus reports this, and thinks, with the modern spiritualist, that the utterance was caused by spirits.[ ] the resemblance to modern trance-utterance and to similar methods used by savages is remarkable, and psychological science sees in it the promptings of the subliminal self in sleep. the _taghairm_ of the highlanders was a survival from pagan times. the seer was usually bound in a cow's hide--the animal, it may be conjectured, having been sacrificed in earlier times. he was left in a desolate place, and while he slept spirits were supposed to inspire his dreams.[ ] clothing in the skin of a sacrificial animal, by which the person thus clothed is brought into contact with it and hence with the divinity to which it is offered, or with the divine animal itself where the victim is so regarded, is a widespread custom. hence, in this celtic usage, contact with divinity through the hide would be expected to produce enlightenment. for a like reason the irish sacrificed a sheep for the recovery of the sick, and clothed the patient in its skin.[ ] binding the limbs of the seer is also a widespread custom, perhaps to restrain his convulsions or to concentrate the psychic force. both among the continental and irish celts those who sought hidden knowledge slept on graves, hoping to be inspired by the spirits of the dead.[ ] legend told how, the full version of the _táin_ having been lost, murgan the _filé_ sang an incantation over the grave of fergus mac roig. a cloud hid him for three days, and during that time the dead man appeared and recited the saga to him. in ireland and the highlands, divination by looking into the shoulder-blade of a sheep was used to discover future events or things happening at a distance, a survival from pagan times.[ ] the scholiast on lucan describes the druidic method of chewing acorns and then prophesying, just as, in ireland, eating nuts from the sacred hazels round connla's well gave inspiration.[ ] the "priestesses" of sena and the "druidesses" of the third century had the gift of prophecy, and it was also ascribed freely to the _filid_, the druids, and to christian saints. druids are said to have prophesied the coming of s. patrick, and similar prophecies are put in the mouths of fionn and others, just as montezuma's priests foretold the coming of the spaniards.[ ] the word used for such prophecies--_baile_, means "ecstasy," and it suggests that the prophet worked himself into a frenzy and then fell into a trance, in which he uttered his forecast. prophecies were also made at the birth of a child, describing its future career.[ ] careful attention was given to the utterances of druidic prophets, e.g. medb's warriors postponed their expedition for fifteen days, because the druids told them they would not succeed if they set out sooner.[ ] mythical personages or divinities are said in the irish texts to have stood on one leg, with one arm extended, and one eye closed, when uttering prophecies or incantations, and this was doubtless an attitude used by the seer.[ ] a similar method is known elsewhere, and it may have been intended to produce greater force. from this attitude may have originated myths of beings with one arm, one leg, and one eye, like some fomorians or the _fachan_ whose weird picture campbell of islay drew from verbal descriptions.[ ] early celtic saints occasionally describe lapses into heathenism in ireland, not characterised by "idolatry," but by wizardry, dealing in charms, and _fidlanna_, perhaps a kind of divination with pieces of wood.[ ] but it is much more likely that these had never really been abandoned. they belong to the primitive element of religion and magic which people cling to long after they have given up "idolatry." footnotes: [ ] cæsar, vi. . [ ] rh[^y]s, _cb_{ } . [ ] justin, xxvi. ; pomp. mela, iii. . [ ] diod. sic. xxii. . [ ] see jullian, . [ ] servius on _Æneid_, iii. . [ ] cæsar, vi. ; livy, xxxviii. ; diod. sic. v. , xxxi. ; athenæus, iv. ; dio cass., lxii. . [ ] diod. sic, xxxiv. ; strabo, iv. ; orosius, v. ; schol. on lucan, usener's ed. . [ ] cæsar, vi. ; strabo, iv. ; diod. sic. v. ; livy, xxxviii. . [ ] mannhardt, _baumkultus_, f. [ ] strabo, _ibid._ . . [ ] s. aug. _de civ. dei_, vii. . [ ] tac. _ann._ xiv. ; strabo, iv. . . [ ] suet. _claud._ . [ ] pomp. mela, iii. . . [ ] pliny, _hn_ xxx. . . [ ] dio. cass. lxii. . [ ] o'curry, _mc_ ii. ; joyce, _sh_ i. ch. . [ ] _rc_ xvi. . [ ] _ll_ _b_. [ ] see p. , _supra_. [ ] see, however, accounts of reckless child sacrifices in ellis, _polynesian researches_, i. , and westermarck, _moral ideas_, i. . [ ] o'curry, _mc_ intro, dcxli. [ ] _lu_ _a_. a folk-version is given by larminie, _west irish folk-tales_, . [ ] _book of fermoy_, _a_. [ ] o'curry, _mc_ intro. dcxl, ii. . [ ] adamnan, _vita s. col._ reeve's ed. . [ ] carmichael, _carmina gadelica_, ii. . [ ] nennius, _hist. brit._ . [ ] stokes, _tig_ xli.; o'curry, _mc_ ii. . [ ] pliny, _hn_ xxx. . the feeding of ethni, daughter of crimthann, on human flesh that she might sooner attain maturity may be an instance of "medicinal cannibalism" (_it_ iii. ). the eating of parents among the irish, described by strabo (iv. ), was an example of "honorific cannibalism." see my article "cannibalism" in hastings' _encycl. of rel. and ethics_, iii, . [ ] diod. sic. vi. ; paus. x. . ; amm. marc. xxvii. ; livy, xxiii. ; solin. xxii. . [ ] this custom continued in ireland until spenser's time. [ ] leahy, i. ; giraldus, _top. hib._ iii. ; martin, . [ ] sil. ital. iv. ; diod. sic. xiv. ; livy, x. ; strabo, iv. . ; miss hull, . [ ] diod. sic. v. ; strabo, iv. . . [ ] d'arbois, v. ; diod. sic. v. ; strabo, _loc. cit._ [ ] _annals of the four masters_, ; _it_ i. . [ ] sil. ital. iv. , v. ; lucan, _phar._ i. ; livy, xxiii. . [ ] see p. , _supra_; _cil_ xii. . a dim memory of head-taking survived in the seventeenth century in eigg, where headless skeletons were found, of which the islanders said that an enemy had cut off their heads (martin, ). [ ] belloguet, _ethnol. gaul._ iii. . [ ] sil. ital. xiii. ; livy, xxiii. ; florus, i. . [ ] _zcp_ i. . [ ] loth, i. f., ii. - . sometimes the weapons of a great warrior had the same effect. the bows of gwerthevyr were hidden in different parts of prydein and preserved the land from saxon invasion, until gwrtheyrn, for love of a woman, dug them up (loth, ii. - ). [ ] see p. , _infra_. in ireland, the brain of an enemy was taken from the head, mixed with lime, and made into a ball. this was allowed to harden, and was then placed in the tribal armoury as a trophy. [ ] _l'anthropologie_, xii. , . cf. the english tradition of the "holy mawle," said to have been used for the same purpose. thorns, _anecdotes and traditions_, . [ ] arrian, _cyneg._ xxxiii. [ ] cæsar, vi. ; orosius, v. . . [ ] d'arbois, i. . [ ] curtin, _tales of the fairies_, ; _folk-lore_, vii. - . [ ] mitchell, _past in the present_, . [ ] mitchell, _op. cit._ f. [ ] cook, _folk-lore_, xvii. . [ ] mitchell, _loc. cit._ . the corruption of "maelrubha" to "maree" may have been aided by confusing the name with _mo_ or _mhor righ_. [ ] mitchell, _loc. cit._; moore, , ; rh[^y]s, _cfl_ i. ; worth, _hist. of devonshire_, ; dalyell, _passim_. [ ] livy, xxiii. . [ ] sébillot, ii. - ; _l'anthrop._ xv. . [ ] carmichael, _carm. gad._ i. . [ ] martin, . a scribe called "sonid," which might be the equivalent of "shony," is mentioned in the stowe missal (_folk-lore_, ). [ ] campbell, _superstitions_, f; _waifs and strays of celtic trad._ ii. . [ ] aelian, xvii. . [ ] tacitus, _ann._ xiv. ; dio cass. lxii. . [ ] appian, _celtica_, ; livy, xxi. , xxxviii. , x. . [ ] livy, v. , vii. ; polybius, ii. . cf. watteville, _le cri de guerre chez les differents peuples_, paris, . [ ] livy, v. . [ ] appian, vi. ; muret et chabouillet, _catalogue des monnaies gauloises_, f., f. [ ] diod. v. ; justin, xxvi. , ; cicero, _de div._ ii. , ; tac. _ann._ xiv. ; strabo, iii. . . [ ] dio cass. lxii. . [ ] reinach, _catal. sommaire_, ; pseudo-plutarch, _de fluviis_, vi. ; _mirab. auscult._ . [ ] strabo, iv. . . [ ] justin, xxiv, ; cicero, _de div._ i. . . (cf. the two magic crows which announced the coming of cúchulainn to the other world (d'arbois, v. ); irish _nennius_, ; o'curry, _mc_ ii. ; cf. for a welsh instance, skene, i. .) [ ] joyce, _sh_ i. ; o'curry, _mc_ ii. , _ms mat._ . [ ] _it_ i. ; livy, v. ; loth, _rc_ xvi. . the irish for consulting a lot is _crann-chur_, "the act of casting wood." [ ] cæsar, vi. . [ ] o'curry, _mc_ ii. , ; stokes, _three irish homilies_, . [ ] cormac, . fionn's divination by chewing his thumb is called _imbas forosnai_ (_rc_ xxv. ). [ ] _antient laws of ireland_, i. . [ ] hyde, _lit. hist. of ireland_, . [ ] justin, xliii. . [ ] o'grady, ii. ; giraldus, _descr. camb._ i. . [ ] pennant, _tour in scotland_, i. ; martin, . [ ] richardson, _folly of pilgrimages_, . [ ] tertullian, _de anima_, ; _coll. de reb. hib._ iii. . [ ] campbell, _superstitions_, ; curtin, _tales_, . [ ] lucan, ed. usener, . [ ] see examples in o'curry, _ms mat._ f. [ ] miss hull, , , . [ ] _lu_ . [ ] _rc_ xii. , xxi. , xxii. . [ ] _rc_ xv. ; _annals of the four masters_, a.m. ; campbell, _wht_ iv. . [ ] see "adamnan's second vision." _rc_ xii. . chapter xvii. tabu. the irish _geis_, pl. _geasa_, which may be rendered by tabu, had two senses. it meant something which must not be done for fear of disastrous consequences, and also an obligation to do something commanded by another. as a tabu the _geis_ had a large place in irish life, and was probably known to other branches of the celts.[ ] it followed the general course of tabu wherever found. sometimes it was imposed before birth, or it was hereditary, or connected with totemism. legends, however, often arose giving a different explanation to _geasa_, long after the customs in which they originated had been forgotten. it was one of diarmaid's _geasa_ not to hunt the boar of ben gulban, and this was probably totemic in origin. but legend told how his father killed a child, the corpse being changed into a boar by the child's father, who said its span of life would be the same as diarmaid's, and that he would be slain by it. oengus put _geasa_ on diarmaid not to hunt it, but at fionn's desire he broke these, and was killed.[ ] other _geasa_--those of cúchulainn not to eat dog's flesh, and of conaire never to chase birds--also point to totemism. in some cases _geasa_ were based on ideas of right and wrong, honour or dishonour, or were intended to cause avoidance of unlucky days. others are unintelligible to us. the largest number of _geasa_ concerned kings and chiefs, and are described, along with their corresponding privileges, in the _book of rights_. some of the _geasa_ of the king of connaught were not to go to an assembly of women at leaghair, not to sit in autumn on the sepulchral mound of the wife of maine, not to go in a grey-speckled garment on a grey-speckled horse to the heath of cruachan, and the like.[ ] the meaning of these is obscure, but other examples are more obvious and show that all alike corresponded to the tabus applying to kings in primitive societies, who are often magicians, priests, or even divine representatives. on them the welfare of the tribe and the making of rain or sunshine, and the processes of growth depend. they must therefore be careful of their actions, and hence they are hedged about with tabus which, however unmeaning, have a direct connection with their powers. out of such conceptions the irish kingly _geasa_ arose. their observance made the earth fruitful, produced abundance and prosperity, and kept both the king and his land from misfortune. in later times these were supposed to be dependent on the "goodness" or the reverse of the king, but this was a departure from the older idea, which is clearly stated in the _book of rights_.[ ] the kings were divinities on whom depended fruitfulness and plenty, and who must therefore submit to obey their _geasa_. some of their prerogatives seem also to be connected with this state of things. thus they might eat of certain foods or go to certain places on particular days.[ ] in primitive societies kings and priests often prohibit ordinary mortals from eating things which they desire for themselves by making them _tabu_, and in other cases the fruits of the earth can only be eaten after king or priest has partaken of them ceremonially. this may have been the case in ireland. the privilege relating to places may have meant that these were sacred and only to be entered by the king at certain times and in his sacred capacity. as a reflection from this state of things, the heroes of the sagas, cúchulainn and fionn, had numerous _geasa_ applicable to themselves, some of them religious, some magical, others based on primitive ideas of honour, others perhaps the invention of the narrators.[ ] _geasa_, whether in the sense of tabus or of obligations, could be imposed by any one, and must be obeyed, for disobedience produced disastrous effects. probably the obligation was framed as an incantation or spell, and the power of the spell being fully believed in, obedience would follow as a matter of course.[ ] examples of such _geasa_ are numerous in irish literature. cúchulainn's father-in-law put _geasa_ on him that he should know no rest until he found out the cause of the exile of the sons of doel. and grainne put _geasa_ on diarmaid that he should elope with her, and this he did, though the act was repugnant to him. among savages the punishment which is supposed to follow tabu-breaking is often produced through auto-suggestion when a tabu has been unconsciously infringed and this has afterwards been discovered. fear produces the result which is feared. the result is believed, however, to be the working of divine vengeance. in the case of irish _geasa_, destruction and death usually followed their infringement, as in the case of diarmaid and cúchulainn. but the best instance is found in the tale of _the destruction of da derga's hostel_, in which the _síd_-folk avenge themselves for eochaid's action by causing the destruction of his descendant conaire, who is forced to break his _geasa_. these are first minutely detailed; then it is shown how, almost in spite of himself, conaire was led on to break them, and how, in the sequel, his tragic death occurred.[ ] viewed in this light as the working of divine vengeance to a remote descendant of the offender by forcing him to break his tabus, the story is one of the most terrible in the whole range of irish literature. footnotes: [ ] the religious interdictions mentioned by cæsar (vi. ) may be regarded as tabus, while the spoils of war placed in a consecrated place (vi. ), and certain animals among the britons (v. ), were clearly under tabu. [ ] joyce, _ocr_ f. [ ] _book of rights_, ed. o'donovan, . [ ] _book of rights_, . [ ] ibid. f. [ ] _ll_ ; o'grady, ii. . [ ] in highland tales _geasa_ is translated "spells." [ ] _rc_ xxii. f. the story of _da choca's hostel_ has for its subject the destruction of cormac through breaking his _geasa_ (_rc_ xxi. f.). chapter xviii. festivals. the celtic year was not at first regulated by the solstices and equinoxes, but by some method connected with agriculture or with the seasons. later, the year was a lunar one, and there is some evidence of attempts at synchronising solar and lunar time. but time was mainly measured by the moon, while in all calculations night preceded day.[ ] thus _oidhche samhain_ was the night preceding samhain (november st), not the following night. the usage survives in our "sennight" and "fortnight." in early times the year had two, possibly three divisions, marking periods in pastoral or agricultural life, but it was afterwards divided into four periods, while the year began with the winter division, opening at samhain. a twofold, subdivided into a fourfold division is found in irish texts,[ ] and may be tabulated as follows:-- st quarter, _geimredh_, beginning with the _a_. geimredh festival of _samhain_, november st. (winter half) nd quarter, _earrach_, beginning february st (sometimes called _oimelc_). rd quarter, _samradh_, beginning with the _b_. samhradh festival of _beltane_, may st (called also (summer half) _cét-soman_ or _cét-samain_, st day of _samono-s_; cf. welsh _cyntefyn_). th quarter, _foghamhar_, beginning with the festival of _lugnasadh_, august st (sometimes called _brontroghain_). these divisions began with festivals, and clear traces of three of them occur over the whole celtic area, but the fourth has now been merged in s. brigit's day. beltane and samhain marked the beginning of the two great divisions, and were perhaps at first movable festivals, according as the signs of summer or winter appeared earlier or later. with the adoption of the roman calendar some of the festivals were displaced, e.g. in gaul, where the calends of january took the place of samhain, the ritual being also transferred. none of the four festivals is connected with the times of equinox and solstice. this points to the fact that originally the celtic year was independent of these. but midsummer day was also observed not only by the celts, but by most european folk, the ritual resembling that of beltane. it has been held, and an old tradition in ireland gives some support to the theory, that under christian influences the old pagan feast of beltane was merged in that of s. john baptist on midsummer day.[ ] but, though there are christian elements in the midsummer ritual, denoting a desire to bring it under church influence, the pagan elements in folk-custom are strongly marked, and the festival is deeply rooted in an earlier paganism all over europe. without much acquaintance with astronomy, men must have noted the period of the sun's longest course from early times, and it would probably be observed ritually. the festivals of beltane and midsummer may have arisen independently, and entered into competition with each other. or beltane may have been an early pastoral festival marking the beginning of summer when the herds went out to pasture, and midsummer a more purely agricultural festival. and since their ritual aspect and purpose as seen in folk-custom are similar, they may eventually have borrowed each from the other. or they may be later separate fixed dates of an earlier movable summer festival. for our purpose we may here consider them as twin halves of such a festival. where midsummer was already observed, the influence of the roman calendar would confirm that observance. the festivals of the christian year also affected the older observances. some of the ritual was transferred to saints' days within the range of the pagan festival days, thus the samhain ritual is found observed on s. martin's day. in other cases, holy days took the place of the old festivals--all saints' and all souls' that of samhain, s. brigit's day that of february st, s. john baptist's day that of midsummer, lammas that of lugnasad, and some attempt was made to hallow, if not to oust, the older ritual. the celtic festivals being primarily connected with agricultural and pastoral life, we find in their ritual survivals traces not only of a religious but of a magical view of things, of acts designed to assist the powers of life and growth. the proof of this will be found in a detailed examination of the surviving customs connected with them. samhain. samhain,[ ] beginning the celtic year, was an important social and religious occasion. the powers of blight were beginning their ascendancy, yet the future triumph of the powers of growth was not forgotten. probably samhain had gathered up into itself other feasts occurring earlier or later. thus it bears traces of being a harvest festival, the ritual of the earlier harvest feast being transferred to the winter feast, as the celts found themselves in lands where harvest is not gathered before late autumn. the harvest rites may, however, have been associated with threshing rather than ingathering. samhain also contains in its ritual some of the old pastoral cults, while as a new year feast its ritual is in great part that of all festivals of beginnings. new fire was brought into each house at samhain from the sacred bonfire,[ ] itself probably kindled from the need-fire by the friction of pieces of wood. this preserved its purity, the purity necessary to a festival of beginnings.[ ] the putting away of the old fires was probably connected with various rites for the expulsion of evils, which usually occur among many peoples at the new year festival. by that process of dislocation which scattered the samhain ritual over a wider period and gave some of it to christmas, the kindling of the yule log may have been originally connected with this festival. divination and forecasting the fate of the inquirer for the coming year also took place. sometimes these were connected with the bonfire, stones placed in it showing by their appearance the fortune or misfortune awaiting their owners.[ ] others, like those described by burns in his "hallowe'en," were unconnected with the bonfire and were of an erotic nature.[ ] the slaughter of animals for winter consumption which took place at samhain, or, as now, at martinmas, though connected with economic reasons, had a distinctly religious aspect, as it had among the teutons. in recent times in ireland one of the animals was offered to s. martin, who may have taken the place of a god, and ill-luck followed the non-observance of the custom.[ ] the slaughter was followed by general feasting. this later slaughter may be traced back to the pastoral stage, in which the animals were regarded as divine, and one was slain annually and eaten sacramentally. or, if the slaughter was more general, the animals would be propitiated. but when the animals ceased to be worshipped, the slaughter would certainly be more general, though still preserving traces of its original character. the pastoral sacrament may also have been connected with the slaying and eating of an animal representing the corn-spirit at harvest time. in one legend s. martin is associated with the animal slain at martinmas, and is said to have been cut up and eaten in the form of an ox,[ ] as if a former divine animal had become an anthropomorphic divinity, the latter being merged in the personality of a christian saint. other rites, connected with the calends of january as a result of dislocation, point also in this direction. in gaul and germany riotous processions took place with men dressed in the heads and skins of animals.[ ] this rite is said by tille to have been introduced from italy, but it is more likely to have been a native custom.[ ] as the people ate the flesh of the slain animals sacramentally, so they clothed themselves in the skins to promote further contact with their divinity. perambulating the township sunwise dressed in the skin of a cow took place until recently in the hebrides at new year, in order to keep off misfortune, a piece of the hide being burned and the smoke inhaled by each person and animal in the township.[ ] similar customs have been found in other celtic districts, and these animal disguises can hardly be separated from the sacramental slaughter at samhain.[ ] evils having been or being about to be cast off in the new year ritual, a few more added to the number can make little difference. hence among primitive peoples new year is often characterised by orgiastic rites. these took place at the calends in gaul, and were denounced by councils and preachers.[ ] in ireland the merriment at samhain is often mentioned in the texts,[ ] and similar orgiastic rites lurk behind the hallowe'en customs in scotland and in the licence still permitted to youths in the quietest townships of the west highlands at samhain eve. samhain, as has been seen, was also a festival of the dead, whose ghosts were fed at this time.[ ] as the powers of growth were in danger and in eclipse in winter, men thought it necessary to assist them. as a magical aid the samhain bonfire was chief, and it is still lit in the highlands. brands were carried round, and from it the new fire was lit in each house. in north wales people jumped through the fire, and when it was extinct, rushed away to escape the "black sow" who would take the hindmost.[ ] the bonfire represented the sun, and was intended to strengthen it. but representing the sun, it had all the sun's force, hence those who jumped through it were strengthened and purified. the welsh reference to the hindmost and to the black sow may point to a former human sacrifice, perhaps of any one who stumbled in jumping through the fire. keating speaks of a druidic sacrifice in the bonfire, whether of man or beast is not specified.[ ] probably the victim, like the scapegoat, was laden with the accumulated evils of the year, as in similar new year customs elsewhere. later belief regarded the sacrifice, if sacrifice there was, as offered to the powers of evil--the black sow, unless this animal is a reminiscence of the corn-spirit in its harmful aspect. earlier powers, whether of growth or of blight, came to be associated with samhain as demoniac beings--the "malignant bird flocks" which blighted crops and killed animals, the _samhanach_ which steals children, and mongfind the banshee, to whom "women and the rabble" make petitions on samhain eve.[ ] witches, evil-intentioned fairies, and the dead were particularly active then. though the sacrificial victim had come to be regarded as an offering to the powers of blight, he may once have represented a divinity of growth or, in earlier times, the corn-spirit. such a victim was slain at harvest, and harvest is often late in northern celtic regions, while the slaying was sometimes connected not with the harvest field, but with the later threshing. this would bring it near the samhain festival. the slaying of the corn-spirit was derived from the earlier slaying of a tree or vegetation-spirit embodied in a tree and also in a human or animal victim. the corn-spirit was embodied in the last sheaf cut as well as in an animal or human being.[ ] this human victim may have been regarded as a king, since in late popular custom a mock king is chosen at winter festivals.[ ] in other cases the effigy of a saint is hung up and carried round the different houses, part of the dress being left at each. the saint has probably succeeded to the traditional ritual of the divine victim.[ ] the primitive period in which the corn-spirit was regarded as female, with a woman as her human representative, is also recalled in folk-custom. the last sheaf is called the maiden or the mother, while, as in northamptonshire, girls choose a queen on s. catharine's day, november th, and in some christmas pageants "yule's wife," as well as yule, is present, corresponding to the may queen of the summer festival.[ ] men also masqueraded as women at the calends. the dates of these survivals may be explained by that dislocation of the samhain festival already pointed out. this view of the samhain human sacrifices is supported by the irish offerings to the fomorians--gods of growth, later regarded as gods of blight, and to cromm cruaich, in both cases at samhain.[ ] with the evolution of religious thought, the slain victim came to be regarded as an offering to evil powers. this aspect of samhain, as a festival to promote and assist festivity, is further seen in the belief in the increased activity of fairies at that time. in ireland, fairies are connected with the tuatha dé danann, the divinities of growth, and in many folk-tales they are associated with agricultural processes. the use of evergreens at christmas is perhaps also connected with the carrying of them round the fields in older times, as an evidence that the life of nature was not extinct.[ ] samhain may thus be regarded as, in origin, an old pastoral and agricultural festival, which in time came to be looked upon as affording assistance to the powers of growth in their conflict with the powers of blight. perhaps some myth describing this combat may lurk behind the story of the battle of mag-tured fought on samhain between the tuatha dé danann and the fomorians. while the powers of blight are triumphant in winter, the tuatha déa are represented as the victors, though they suffer loss and death. perhaps this enshrines the belief in the continual triumph of life and growth over blight and decay, or it may arise from the fact that samhain was both a time of rejoicing for the ingathered harvest, and of wailing for the coming supremacy of winter and the reign of the powers of blight. beltane. in cormac's _glossary_ and other texts, "beltane" is derived from _bel-tene_, "a goodly fire," or from _bel-dine_, because newly-born (_dine_) cattle were offered to bel, an idol-god.[ ] the latter is followed by those who believe in a celtic belus, connected with baal. no such god is known, however, and the god belenos is in no way connected with the semitic divinity. m. d'arbois assumes an unknown god of death, beltene (from _beltu_, "to die"), whose festival beltane was.[ ] but beltane was a festival of life, of the sun shining in his strength. dr. stokes gives a more acceptable explanation of the word. its primitive form was _belo-te_[_p_]_niâ_, from _belo-s_, "clear," "shining," the root of the names belenos and belisama, and _te_[_p_]_nos_, "fire." thus the word would mean something like "bright fire," perhaps the sun or the bonfire, or both.[ ] the folk-survivals of the beltane and midsummer festivals show that both were intended to promote fertility. one of the chief ritual acts at beltane was the kindling of bonfires, often on hills. the house-fires in the district were often extinguished, the bonfire being lit by friction from a rotating wheel--the german "need-fire."[ ] the fire kept off disease and evil, hence cattle were driven through it, or, according to cormac, between two fires lit by druids, in order to keep them in health during the year.[ ] sometimes the fire was lit beneath a sacred tree, or a pole covered with greenery was surrounded by the fuel, or a tree was burned in the fire.[ ] these trees survive in the maypole of later custom, and they represented the vegetation-spirit, to whom also the worshippers assimilated themselves by dressing in leaves. they danced sunwise round the fire or ran through the fields with blazing branches or wisps of straw, imitating the course of the sun, and thus benefiting the fields.[ ] for the same reason the tree itself was probably borne through the fields. houses were decked with boughs and thus protected by the spirit of vegetation.[ ] an animal representing the spirit of vegetation may have been slain. in late survivals of beltane at dublin, a horse's skull and bones were thrown into the fire,[ ] the attenuated form of an earlier sacrifice or slaying of a divine victim, by whom strength was transferred to all the animals which passed through the fire. in some cases a human victim may have been slain. this is suggested by customs surviving in perthshire in the eighteenth century, when a cake was broken up and distributed, and the person who received a certain blackened portion was called the "beltane carline" or "devoted." a pretence was made of throwing him into the fire, or he had to leap three times through it, and during the festival he was spoken of as "dead."[ ] martin says that malefactors were burned in the fire,[ ] and though he cites no authority, this agrees with the celtic use of criminals as victims. perhaps the victim was at one time a human representative of the vegetation-spirit. beltane cakes or bannocks, perhaps made of the grain of the sacred last sheaf from the previous harvest, and therefore sacramental in character, were also used in different ways in folk-survivals. they were rolled down a slope--a magical imitative act, symbolising and aiding the course of the sun. the cake had also a divinatory character. if it broke on reaching the foot of the slope this indicated the approaching death of its owner. in another custom in perthshire, part of a cake was thrown over the shoulder with the words, "this i give to thee, preserve thou my horses; this to thee, preserve thou my sheep; this to thee, o fox, preserve thou my lambs; this to thee, o hooded crow; this to thee, o eagle." here there is an appeal to beneficial and noxious powers, whether this was the original intention of the rite.[ ] but if the cakes were made of the last sheaf, they were probably at one time eaten sacramentally, their sacrificial use emerging later. the bonfire was a sun-charm, representing and assisting the sun. rain-charms were also used at beltane. sacred wells were visited and the ceremony performed with their waters, these perhaps being sprinkled over the tree or the fields to promote a copious rainfall for the benefit of vegetation. the use of such rites at beltane and at other festivals may have given rise to the belief that wells were especially efficacious then for purposes of healing. the custom of rolling in the grass to benefit by may dew was probably connected with magical rites in which moisture played an important part.[ ] the idea that the powers of growth had successfully combated those of blight may have been ritually represented. this is suggested by the mimic combats of summer and winter at this time, to which reference has already been made. again, the may king and queen represent earlier personages who were regarded as embodying the spirits of vegetation and fertility at this festival, and whose marriage or union magically assisted growth and fertility, as in numerous examples of this ritual marriage elsewhere.[ ] it may be assumed that a considerable amount of sexual licence also took place with the same magical purpose. sacred marriage and festival orgy were an appeal to the forces of nature to complete their beneficial work, as well as a magical aid to them in that work. analogy leads to the supposition that the king of the may was originally a priest-king, the incarnation of the spirit of vegetation. he or his surrogate was slain, while his bodily force was unabated, in order that it might be passed on undiminished to his successor. but the persistent place given to the may queen rather than to the king suggests the earlier prominence of women and of female spirits of fertility or of a great mother-goddess in such rites. it is also significant that in the perthshire ritual the man chosen was still called the _beltane carlane_ or _cailleach_ ("old woman"). and if, as professor pearson maintains, witch orgies are survivals of old sex-festivals, then the popular belief in the activity of witches on beltane eve, also shows that the festival had once been mainly one in which women took part. such orgies often took place on hills which had been the sites of a cult in former times.[ ] midsummer. the ritual of the midsummer festival did not materially differ from that of beltane, and as folk-survivals show, it was practised not only by the celts, but by many other european peoples. it was, in fact, a primitive nature festival such as would readily be observed by all under similar psychic conditions and in like surroundings. a bonfire was again the central rite of this festival, the communal nature of which is seen in the fact that all must contribute materials to it. in local survivals, mayor and priest, representing the earlier local chief and priest, were present, while a service in church preceded the procession to the scene of the bonfire. dancing sunwise round the fire to the accompaniment of songs which probably took the place of hymns or tunes in honour of the sun-god, commonly occurred, and by imitating the sun's action, may have been intended to make it more powerful. the livelier the dance the better would be the harvest.[ ] as the fire represented the sun, it possessed the purifying and invigorating powers of the sun; hence leaping through the fire preserved from disease, brought prosperity, or removed barrenness. hence also cattle were driven through the fire. but if any one stumbled as he leaped, ill-luck was supposed to follow him. he was devoted to the _fadets_ or spirits,[ ] and perhaps, like the "devoted" beltane victim, he may formerly have been sacrificed. animal sacrifices are certainly found in many survivals, the victims being often placed in osier baskets and thrown into the fire. in other districts great human effigies of osier were carried in procession and burned.[ ] the connection of such sacrifices with the periodical slaying of a representative of the vegetation-spirit has been maintained by mannhardt and dr. frazer.[ ] as has been seen, periodic sacrifices for the fertility of the land are mentioned by cæsar, strabo, and diodorus, human victims and animals being enclosed in an osier image and burned.[ ] these images survive in the osier effigies just referred to, while they may also be connected with the custom of decking the human representatives of the spirit of vegetation in greenery. the holocausts may be regarded as extensions of the earlier custom of slaying one victim, the incarnation of a vegetation-spirit. this slaying was gradually regarded as sacrificial, but as the beneficial effect of the sacrifice on growth was still believed in, it would naturally be thought that still better effects would be produced if many victims were offered. the victims were burned in a fire representing the sun, and vegetation was thus doubly benefited, by the victims and by the sun-god. the oldest conception of the vegetation-spirit was that of a tree-spirit which had power over rain, sunshine, and every species of fruitfulness. for this reason a tree had a prominent place both in the beltane and midsummer feasts. it was carried in procession, imparting its benefits to each house or field. branches of it were attached to each house for the same purpose. it was then burned, or it was set up to procure benefits to vegetation during the year and burned at the next midsummer festival.[ ] the sacred tree was probably an oak, and, as has been seen, the mistletoe rite probably took place on midsummer eve, as a preliminary to cutting down the sacred tree and in order to secure the life or soul of the tree, which must first be secured before the tree could be cut down. the life of the tree was in the mistletoe, still alive in winter when the tree itself seemed to be dead. such beliefs as this concerning the detachable soul or life survive in _märchen_, and are still alive among savages.[ ] folk-survivals show that a human or an animal representative of the vegetation-spirit, brought into connection with the tree, was also slain or burned along with the tree.[ ] thus the cutting of the mistletoe would be regarded as a preliminary to the slaying of the human victim, who, like the tree, was the representative of the spirit of vegetation. the bonfire representing the sun, and the victims, like the tree, representing the spirit of vegetation, it is obvious why the fire had healing and fertilising powers, and why its ashes and the ashes or the flesh of the victims possessed the same powers. brands from the fire were carried through the fields or villages, as the tree had been, or placed on the fields or in houses, where they were carefully preserved for a year. all this aided growth and prosperity, just as the smoke of the fire, drifting over the fields, produced fertility. ashes from the fire, and probably the calcined bones or even the flesh of the victims, were scattered on the fields or preserved and mixed with the seed corn. again, part of the flesh may have been eaten sacramentally, since, as has been seen, pliny refers to the belief of the celts in the eating of human flesh as most wholesome. in the stone age, as with many savages, a circle typified the sun, and as soon as the wheel was invented its rolling motion at once suggested that of the sun. in the _edda_ the sun is "the beautiful, the shining wheel," and similar expressions occur in the _vedas_. among the celts the wheel of the sun was a favourite piece of symbolism, and this is seen in various customs at the midsummer festival. a burning wheel was rolled down a slope or trundled through the fields, or burning brands were whirled round so as to give the impression of a fiery wheel. the intention was primarily to imitate the course of the sun through the heavens, and so, on the principle of imitative magic, to strengthen it. but also, as the wheel was rolled through the fields, so it was hoped that the direct beneficial action of the sun upon them would follow. similar rites might be performed not only at midsummer, but at other times, to procure blessing or to ward off evil, e.g. carrying fire round houses or fields or cattle or round a child _deiseil_ or sunwise,[ ] and, by a further extension of thought, the blazing wheel, or the remains of the burning brands thrown to the winds, had also the effect of carrying off accumulated evils.[ ] beltane and midsummer thus appear as twin halves of a spring or early summer festival, the intention of which was to promote fertility and health. this was done by slaying the spirit of vegetation in his representative--tree, animal, or man. his death quickened the energies of earth and man. the fire also magically assisted the course of the sun. survival of the ancient rites are or were recently found in all celtic regions, and have been constantly combated by the church. but though they were continued, their true meaning was forgotten, and they were mainly performed for luck or out of sheer conservatism. sometimes a christian aspect was given to them, e.g. by connecting the fires with s. john, or by associating the rites with the service of the church, or by the clergy being present at them. but their true nature was still evident as acts of pagan worship and magic which no veneer of christianity could ever quite conceal.[ ] lugnasad. the st of august, coming midway between beltane and samhain, was an important festival among the celts. in christian times the day became lammas, but its name still survives in irish as lugnasad, in gaelic as lunasdal or lunasduinn, and in manx as laa luanys, and it is still observed as a fair or feast in many districts. formerly assemblies at convenient centres were held on this day, not only for religious purposes, but for commerce and pleasure, both of these being of course saturated with religion. "all ireland" met at taillti, just as "all gaul" met at lugudunum, "lug's town," or lyons, in honour of augustus, though the feast there had formerly been in honour of the god lugus.[ ] the festival was here romanised, as it was also in britain, where its name appears as _goel-aoust_, _gul-austus_, and _gwyl awst_, now the "august feast," but formerly the "feast of augustus," the name having replaced one corresponding to lugnasad.[ ] cormac explains the name lugnasad as a festival of lugh mac ethlenn, celebrated by him in the beginning of autumn, and the _rennes dindsenchas_ accounts for its origin by saying that lug's foster-mother, tailtiu, having died on the calends of august, he directed an assembly for lamentation to be held annually on that day at her tomb.[ ] lug is thus the founder of his own festival, for that it was his, and not tailtiu's, is clear from the fact that his name is attached to it. as lammas was a christian harvest thanksgiving, so also was lugnasad a pagan harvest feast, part of the ritual of which passed over to samhain. the people made glad before the sun-god--lug perhaps having that character--who had assisted them in the growth of the things on which their lives depended. marriages were also arranged at this feast, probably because men had now more leisure and more means for entering upon matrimony. possibly promiscuous love-making also occurred as a result of the festival gladness, agricultural districts being still notoriously immoral. some evidence points to the connection of the feast with lug's marriage, though this has been allegorised into his wedding the "sovereignty of erin." perhaps we have here a hint of the rite of the sacred marriage, for the purpose of magically fertilising the fields against next year's sowing. due observance of the feast produced abundance of corn, fruit, milk, and fish. probably the ritual observed included the preservation of the last sheaf as representing the corn-spirit, giving some of it to the cattle to strengthen them, and mingling it with next year's corn to impart to it the power of the corn-spirit. it may also have included the slaying of an animal or human incarnation of the corn-spirit, whose flesh and blood quickened the soil and so produced abundance next year, or, when partaken of by the worshippers, brought blessings to them. to neglect such rites, abundant instances of which exist in folk-custom, would be held to result in scarcity. this would also explain, as already suggested, why the festival was associated with the death of tailtiu or of carman. the euhemerised queen-goddess tailtiu and the woman carman had once been corn-goddesses, evolved from more primitive corn-spirits, and slain at the feast in their female representatives. the story of their death and burial at the festival was a dim memory of this ancient rite, and since the festival was also connected with the sun-god lug, it was easy to bring him into relationship with the earlier goddess. elsewhere the festival, in its memorial aspect, was associated with a king, probably because male victims had come to be representatives of a corn-god who had taken the place of the goddess. * * * * * some of the ritual of these festivals is illustrated by scattered notices in classical writers, and on the whole they support our theory that the festivals originated in a female cult of spirits or goddesses of fertility. strabo speaks of sacrifices offered to demeter and kore, according to the ritual followed at samothrace, in an island near britain, i.e. to native goddesses equated with them. he also describes the ritual of the namnite women on an island in the loire. they are called bacchantes because they conciliated bacchus with mysteries and sacrifices; in other words, they observed an orgiastic cult of a god equated with bacchus. no man must set foot on the island, but the women left it once a year for intercourse with the other sex. once a year the temple of the god was unroofed, and roofed again before sunset. if any woman dropped her load of materials (and it was said this always happened), she was torn in pieces and her limbs carried round the temple.[ ] dionysius periegetes says the women were crowned with ivy, and celebrated their mysteries by night in honour of earth and proserpine with great clamour.[ ] pliny also makes a reference to british rites in which nude women and girls took part, their bodies stained with woad.[ ] at a later time, s. gregory of tours speaks of the image of a goddess berecynthia drawn on a litter through the streets, fields, and vineyards of augustodunum on the days of her festival, or when the fields were threatened with scarcity. the people danced and sang before it. the image was covered with a white veil.[ ] berecynthia has been conjectured by professor anwyl to be the goddess brigindu, worshipped at valnay.[ ] these rites were all directed towards divinities of fertility. but in harvest customs in celtic scotland and elsewhere two sheaves of corn were called respectively the old woman and the maiden, the corn-spirit of the past year and that of the year to come, and corresponding to demeter and kore in early greek agricultural ritual. as in greece, so among the celts, the primitive corn-spirits had probably become more individualised goddesses with an elaborate cult, observed on an island or at other sacred spots. the cult probably varied here and there, and that of a god of fertility may have taken the place of the cult of goddesses. a god was worshipped by the namnite women, according to strabo, goddesses according to dionysius. the mangled victim was probably regarded as representative of a divinity, and perhaps part of the flesh was mixed with the seed-corn, like the grain of the maiden sheaf, or buried in the earth. this rite is common among savages, and its presence in old european ritual is attested by survivals. that these rites were tabu to men probably points to the fact that they were examples of an older general custom, in which all such rites were in the hands of women who cultivated the earth, and who were the natural priestesses of goddesses of growth and fertility, of vegetation and the growing corn. another example is found in the legend and procession of godiva at coventry--the survival of a pagan cult from which men were excluded.[ ] pliny speaks of the nudity of the women engaged in the cult. nudity is an essential part of all primitive agricultural rites, and painting the body is also a widespread ritual act. dressing with leaves or green stuff, as among the namnite women, and often with the intention of personating the spirit of vegetation, is also customary. by unveiling the body, and especially the sexual organs, women more effectually represented the goddess of fertility, and more effectually as her representatives, or through their own powers, magically conveyed fertility to the fields. nakedness thus became a powerful magico-religious symbol, and it is found as part of the ritual for producing rain.[ ] there is thus abundant evidence of the cult of fertility, vegetation, and corn-spirits, who tended to become divinities, male or female. here and there, through conservatism, the cult remained in the hands of women, but more generally it had become a ritual in which both men and women took part--that of the great agricultural festivals. where a divinity had taken the place of the vaguer spirits, her image, like that of berecynthia, was used in the ritual, but the image was probably the successor of the tree which embodied the vegetation-spirit, and was carried through the fields to fertilise them. similar processions of images, often accompanied by a ritual washing of the image in order to invigorate the divinity, or, as in the similar may-day custom, to produce rain, are found in the teutonic cult of nerthus, the phrygian of cybele, the hindu of bhavani, and the roman ritual of the bona dea. the image of berecynthia was thus probably washed also. washing the images of saints, usually to produce rain, has sometimes taken the place of the washing of a divine image, and similarly the relics of a saint are carried through a field, as was the tree or image. the community at iona perambulated a newly sown field with s. columba's relics in time of drought, and shook his tunic three times in the air, and were rewarded by a plentiful rain, and later, by a bounteous harvest.[ ] many of these local cults were pre-celtic, but we need not therefore suppose that the celts, or the aryans as a whole, had no such cults.[ ] the aryans everywhere adopted local cults, but this they would not have done if, as is supposed, they had themselves outgrown them. the cults were local, but the celts had similar local cults, and easily accepted those of the people they conquered. we cannot explain the persistence of such primitive cults as lie behind the great celtic festivals, both in classical times and over the whole area of europe among the peasantry, by referring them solely to a pre-aryan folk. they were as much aryan as pre-aryan. they belong to those unchanging strata of religion which have so largely supplied the soil in which its later and more spiritual growths have flourished. and among these they still emerge, unchanged and unchanging, like the gaunt outcrops of some ancient rock formation amid rich vegetation and fragrant flowers. footnotes: [ ] pliny, xvi. ; cæsar, vi. . see my article "calendar (celtic)" in hastings' _encyclopædia of rel. and ethics_, iii. f., for a full discussion of the problems involved. [ ] o'donovan, _book of rights_, intro. lii f. [ ] o'donovan, li.; bertrand, ; keating, . [ ] samhain may mean "summer-end," from _sam_, "summer," and _fuin_, "sunset" or "end," but dr. stokes (_us_ ) makes _samani_- mean "assembly," i.e. the gathering of the people to keep the feast. [ ] keating, , . [ ] see macbain, _cm_ ix. . [ ] brand, i. ; ramsay, _scotland and scotsmen in the eighteenth century_, ii. ; _stat. account_, xi. . [ ] hazlitt, - , ; campbell, _witchcraft_, f. [ ] curtin, . [ ] fitzgerald, _rc_ vi. . [ ] see chambers, _mediæval stage_, app. n, for the evidence from canons and councils regarding these. [ ] tille, _yule and christmas_, . [ ] chambers, _popular rhymes_, . [ ] hutchinson, _view of northumberland_, ii. ; thomas, _rev. de l'hist. des rel._ xxxviii. f. [ ] _patrol. lot._ xxxix. . [ ] _it_ i. ; _rc_ v. ; leahy, i. . [ ] see p. , _supra_. [ ] the writer has himself seen such bonfires in the highlands. see also hazlitt, ; pennant, _tour_, ii. ; rh[^y]s, _hl_ , _cfl_ i. - . in egyptian mythology, typhon assailed horus in the form of a black swine. [ ] keating, . [ ] joyce, _sh_ ii. ; _rc_ x. , , xxiv. ; o'grady, ii. ; _cm_ ix. . [ ] see mannhardt, _mythol. forschung._ f.; frazer, _adonis_, _passim_; thomas, _rev. de l'hist. des rel._ xxxviii. f. [ ] hazlitt, ; chambers, _mediæval stage_, i. . [ ] chambers, _book of days_, ii. ; hazlitt, . [ ] hazlitt, ; davies, _extracts from munic. records of york_, . [ ] see p. , _supra_; _ll_ , . [ ] chambers, _med. stage_, i. f. [ ] cormac, _s.v._ "belltaine," "bel"; _arch. rev._ i. . [ ] d'arbois, ii. . [ ] stokes, _us_ , . see his earlier derivation, dividing the word into _belt_, connected with lithuan. _baltas_, "white," and _aine_, the termination in _sechtmaine_, "week" (_tig_ xxxv.). [ ] need-fire (gael. _teinne-eiginn_, "necessity fire") was used to kindle fire in time of cattle plague. see grimm, _teut. myth._ f.; martin, ; jamieson's _dictionary_, _s.v._ "neidfyre." [ ] cormac, _s.v._; martin, , says that the druids extinguished all fires until their dues were paid. this may have been a tradition in the hebrides. [ ] joyce, _pn_ i. ; hone, _everyday book_, i. , ii. . [ ] pennant, _tour in scotland_, i. . [ ] hazlitt, , . [ ] hone, _everyday book_, ii. . see p. , _supra_. [ ] sinclair, _stat. account_, xi. . [ ] martin, . [ ] for these usages see ramsay, _scotland and scotsmen in the eighteenth century_, ii. f.; sinclair, _stat. account_, v. , xi. , xv. . for the sacramental and sacrificial use of similar loaves, see frazer, _golden bough_{ }, i. , ii. ; grimm, _teut. myth._ iii. f. [ ] _new stat. account_, wigtownshire, ; hazlitt, , , . [ ] see miss owen, _folk-lore of the musquakie indians_, ; frazer, _golden bough_{ }, ii. . [ ] for notices of beltane survivals see keating, ; campbell, _journey from edinburgh_, i. ; ramsay, _scotland and scotsmen_, ii. f.; _old stat. account_, v. , xi. , xv. ; gregor, _folk-lore of n.e. of scotland_, . the paganism of the survivals is seen in the fact that beltane fires were frequently prohibited by scottish ecclesiastical councils. [ ] meyrac, _traditions ... des ardennes_, . [ ] bertrand, . [ ] ibid. ; gaidoz, ; mannhardt, _baumkultus_, , ; brand, i. , . [ ] mannhardt, _op. cit._ f.; frazer, _golden bough_{ }, iii. . [ ] p. , _supra_. [ ] frazer, _op. cit._ i. ; brand, i. , , , ; hone, _everyday book_, ii. ; mannhardt, _op. cit._ ; grimm, _teut. myth._ , f. [ ] see my _childhood of fiction_, ch. v. [ ] frazer, i. , ii. f., ; mannhardt, f. [ ] martin, . the custom of walking _deiseil_ round an object still survives, and, as an imitation of the sun's course, it is supposed to bring good luck or ward off evil. for the same reason the right hand turn was of good augury. medb's charioteer, as she departed for the war, made her chariot turn to the right to repel evil omens (_lu_ ). curiously enough, pliny (xxviii. ) says that the gauls preferred the left-hand turn in their religious rites, though athenæus refers to the right-hand turn among them. _deiseil_ is from _dekso-s_, "right," and _svel_, "to turn." [ ] hone, i. ; hazlitt, ii. . [ ] this account of the midsummer ritual is based on notices found in hone, _everyday book_; hazlitt, ii. f.; gaidoz, _le dieu soleil_; bertrand; deloche, _rc_ ix. ; _folk-lore_, xii. ; frazer, _golden bough_{ }, iii. f.; grimm, _teut. myth._ ii. f.; monnier, f. [ ] _rc_ xvi. ; guiraud, _les assemblées provinciales dans l'empire romain_. [ ] d'arbois, i. , _les celtes_, ; loth, _annales de bretagne_, xiii. no. . [ ] _rc_ xvi. . [ ] strabo, iv. . . [ ] dion. per. v. . [ ] pliny, xxii. . [ ] greg, _de glor. conf._ ; sulp. sev. _vita s. martini_, ; pass. s. symphor. migne, _pat. graec._ v. , . the cult of cybele had been introduced into gaul, and the ritual here described resembles it, but we are evidently dealing here with the cult of a native goddess. see, however, frazer, _adonis_, . [ ] anwyl, _celtic religion_, . [ ] see hartland, _science of fairy-tales_, f. [ ] professor rh[^y]s suggests that nudity, being a frequent symbol of submission to a conqueror, acquired a similar significance in religious rites (_al_ ). but the magical aspect of nudity came first in time. [ ] adamnan, _vita s. col._ ii. . [ ] see gomme, _ethnology in folk-lore_, f., _village community_, . chapter xix. accessories of cult. temples. in primitive religion the place of worship is seldom a temple made with hands, but rather an enclosed space in which the symbol or image of the god stands. the sacredness of the god makes the place of his cult sacred. often an open space in the forest is the scene of the regular cult. there the priests perform the sacred rites; none may enter it but themselves; and the trembling worshipper approaches it with awe lest the god should slay him if he came too near. the earliest temples of the gauls were sacred groves, one of which, near massilia, is described by lucan. no bird built in it, no animal lurked near, the leaves constantly shivered when no breeze stirred them. altars stood in its midst, and the images of the gods were misshapen trunks of trees. every tree was stained with sacrificial blood. the poet then describes marvels heard or seen in the grove--the earth groaning, dead yews reviving, trees surrounded with flame yet not consumed, and huge serpents twining round the oaks. the people feared to approach the grove, and even the priest would not walk there at midday or midnight lest he should then meet its divine guardian.[ ] dio speaks of human sacrifices offered to andrasta in a british grove, and in a.d. the woods of mona, devoted to strange rites, were cut down by roman soldiers.[ ] the sacred _dru-nemeton_ of the galatian celts may have been a grove.[ ] place-names also point to the widespread existence of such groves, since the word _nemeton_, "grove," occurs in many of them, showing that the places so called had been sites of a cult. in ireland, _fid-nemed_ stood for "sacred grove."[ ] the ancient groves were still the objects of veneration in christian times, though fines were levied against those who still clung to the old ways.[ ] sacred groves were still used in gallo-roman times, and the druids may have had a preference for them, a preference which may underlie the words of the scholiast on lucan, that "the druids worship the gods without temples in woods." but probably more elaborate temples, great tribal sanctuaries, existed side by side with these local groves, especially in cisalpine gaul, where the boii had a temple in which were stored the spoils of war, while the insubri had a similar temple.[ ] these were certainly buildings. the "consecrated place" in transalpine gaul, which cæsar mentions, and where at fixed periods judgments were given, might be either a grove or a temple. cæsar uses the same phrase for sacred places where the spoils of war were heaped; these may have been groves, but diodorus speaks of treasure collected in "temples and sacred places" ([greek: en tois hierois chai temenesin]), and plutarch speaks of the "temple" where the arverni hung cæsar's sword.[ ] the "temple" of the namnite women, unroofed and re-roofed in a day, must have been a building. there is no evidence that the insular celts had temples. in gallo-roman times, elaborate temples, perhaps occupying sites of earlier groves or temples, sprang up over the romano-celtic area. they were built on roman models, many of them were of great size, and they were dedicated to roman or gallo-roman divinities.[ ] smaller shrines were built by grateful worshippers at sacred springs to their presiding divinity, as many inscriptions show. in the temples stood images of the gods, and here were stored sacred vessels, sometimes made of the skulls of enemies, spoils of war dedicated to the gods, money collected for sacred purposes, and war standards, especially those which bore divine symbols. the old idea that stone circles were druidic temples, that human sacrifices were offered on the "altar-stone," and libations of blood poured into the cup-markings, must be given up, along with much of the astronomical lore associated with the circles. stonehenge dates from the close of the neolithic age, and most of the smaller circles belong to the early bronze age, and are probably pre-celtic. in any case they were primarily places of sepulture. as such they would be the scene of ancestor worship, but yet not temples in the strict sense of the word. the larger circles, burial-places of great chiefs or kings, would become central places for the recurring rites of ghost-worship, possibly also rallying places of the tribe on stated occasions. but whether this ghost-worship was ever transmuted into the cult of a god at the circles is uncertain and, indeed, unlikely. the celts would naturally regard these places as sacred, since the ghosts of the dead, even those of a vanquished people, are always dangerous, and they also took over the myths and legends[ ] associated with them, such, e.g., as regarded the stones themselves, or trees growing within the circles, as embodiments of the dead, while they may also have used them as occasional places of secondary interment. whether they were ever led to copy such circles themselves is uncertain, since their own methods of interment seem to have been different. we have seen that the gods may in some cases have been worshipped at tumuli, and that lugnasad was, at some centres, connected with commemorative cults at burial-places (mounds, not circles). but the reasons for this are obscure, nor is there any hint that other celtic festivals were held near burial mounds. probably such commemorative rites at places of sepulture during lugnasad were only part of a wider series occurring elsewhere, and we cannot assume from such vague notices that stone circles were druidic temples where worship of an oriental nature was carried on. professor rh[^y]s is disposed to accept the old idea that stonehenge was the temple of apollo in the island of the hyperboreans, mentioned by diodorus, where the sun-god was worshipped.[ ] but though that temple was circular, it had walls adorned with votive offerings. nor does the temple unroofed yearly by the namnite women imply a stone circle, for there is not the slightest particle of evidence that the circles were ever roofed in any way.[ ] stone circles with mystic trees growing in them, one of them with a well by which entrance was gained to tír fa tonn, are mentioned in irish tales. they were connected with magic rites, but are not spoken of as temples.[ ] altars. lucan describes realistically the awful sacrifices of the gauls on cruel altars not a whit milder than those of diana, and he speaks of "altars piled with offerings" in the sacred grove at marseilles.[ ] cicero says that human victims were sacrificed on altars, and tacitus describes the altars of mona smeared with human blood.[ ] "druids' altars" are mentioned in the irish "expedition of dathi," and cormac speaks of _indelba_, or altars adorned with emblems.[ ] probably many of these altars were mere heaps of stone like the norse _horg_, or a great block of stone. some sacrifices, however, were too extensive to be offered on an altar, but in such cases the blood would be sprinkled upon it. under roman influence, celtic altars took the form of those of the conquerors, with inscriptions containing names of native or roman gods and bas-reliefs depicting some of these. the old idea that dolmens were celtic altars is now abandoned. they were places of sepulture of the neolithic or early bronze age, and were originally covered with a mound of earth. during the era of celtic paganism they were therefore hidden from sight, and it is only in later times that the earth has been removed and the massive stones, arranged so as to form a species of chamber, have been laid bare. images. the gauls, according to cæsar, possessed _plurima simulacra_ of the native mercury, but he does not refer to images of other gods. we need not infer from this that the celts had a prejudice against images, for among the irish celts images are often mentioned, and in gaul under roman rule many images existed. the existence of images among the celts as among other peoples, may owe something to the cult of trees and of stones set up over the dead. the stone, associated with the dead man's spirit, became an image of himself, perhaps rudely fashioned in his likeness. a rough-hewn tree trunk became an image of the spirit or god of trees. on the other hand, some anthropomorphic images, like the palæolithic or mycenæan figurines, may have been fashioned without the intermediary of tree-trunk or stone pillar. maximus of tyre says that the celtic image of zeus was a lofty oak, perhaps a rough-hewn trunk rather than a growing tree, and such roughly carved tree-trunks, images of gods, are referred to by lucan in his description of the massilian grove.[ ] pillar stones set up over the graves of the dead are often mentioned in irish texts. these would certainly be associated with the dead; indeed, existing legends show that they were believed to be tenanted by the ghosts and to have the power of motion. this suggests that they had been regarded as images of the dead. other stones honoured in ireland were the _cloch labrais_, an oracular stone; the _lia fail_, or coronation stone, which shouted when a king of the milesian race seated himself upon it; and the _lia adrada_, or stone of adoration, apparently a boundary stone.[ ] the _plurima simulacra_ of the gaulish mercury may have been boundary stones like those dedicated to mercury or hermes among the romans and greeks. did cæsar conclude, or was it actually the case, that the gauls dedicated such stones to a god of boundaries who might be equated with mercury? many such standing stones still exist in france, and their number must have been greater in cæsar's time. seeing them the objects of superstitious observances, he may have concluded that they were _simulacra_ of a god. other romans besides himself had been struck by the resemblance of these stones to their hermai, and perhaps the gauls, if they did not already regard them as symbols of a god, acquiesced in the resemblance. thus, on the menhir of kervadel are sculptured four figures, one being that of mercury, dating from gallo-roman times. beneath another, near peronne, a bronze statuette of mercury was discovered.[ ] this would seem to show that the gauls had a cult of pillar stones associated with a god of boundaries. cæsar probably uses the word _simulacrum_ in the sense of "symbol" rather than "image," though he may have meant native images not fully carved in human shape, like the irish _cérmand_, _cerstach_, ornamented with gold and silver, the "chief idol" of north ireland, or like the similarly ornamented "images" of cromm cruaich and his satellites.[ ] the adoration of sacred stones continued into christian times and was much opposed by the church.[ ] s. samson of dol (sixth century) found men dancing round a _simulacrum abominabile_, which seems to have been a kind of standing stone, and having besought them to desist, he carved a cross upon it.[ ] several _menhirion_ in france are now similarly ornamented.[ ] the number of existing gallo-roman images shows that the celts had not adopted a custom which was foreign to them, and they must have already possessed rude native images. the disappearance of these would be explained if they were made of perishable material. wooden images of the _matres_ have been occasionally found, and these may be pre-roman. some of the images of the three-headed and crouching gods show no sign of roman influences in their modelling, and they may have been copied from earlier images of wood. we also find divine figures on pre-roman coins.[ ] certain passages in classical writings point to the existence of native images. a statue of a goddess existed in a temple at marseilles, according to justin, and the galatian celts had images of the native juppiter and artemis, while the conquering celts who entered rome bowed to the seated senators as to statues of the gods.[ ] the gauls placed rich ornaments on the images of the gods, and presumably these were native "idols." "idols" are frequently mentioned in irish texts, and there is no doubt that these mean images.[ ] cormac mac art refused to worship "idols," and was punished by the druids.[ ] the idols of cromm cruaich and his satellites, referred to in the _dindsenchas_, were carved to represent the human form; the chief one was of gold, the others of stone. these were miraculously overthrown by s. patrick; but in the account of the miracle the chief idol was of stone adorned with gold and silver, the others, numbering twelve, were ornamented with bronze.[ ] they stood in mag slecht, and similar sacred places with groups of images evidently existed elsewhere, e.g. at rath archaill, "where the druid's altars and images are."[ ] the lady cessair, before coming to ireland, is said to have taken advice of her _laimh-dhia_, or "hand gods," perhaps small images used for divination.[ ] for the british celts the evidence is slender, but idolatry in the sense of "image-worship" is frequently mentioned in the lives of early saints.[ ] gildas also speaks of images "mouldering away within and without the deserted temples, with stiff and deformed features."[ ] this pathetic picture of the forsaken shrines of forgotten gods may refer to romano-celtic images, but the "stiff and deformed features" suggest rather native art, the art of a people unskilful at reproducing the human form, however artistic they may have been in other directions. if the native celts of ireland had images, there is no reason to suppose, especially considering the evidence just adduced, that the gauls, or at least the druids, were antagonistic to images. this last is m. reinach's theory, part of a wider hypothesis that the druids were pre-celtic, but became the priests of the celts, who till then had no priests. the druids prohibited image-worship, and this prohibition existed in gaul, _ex hypothesi_, from the end of palæolithic times. pythagoras and his school were opposed to image-worship, and the classical writers claimed a connection between the pythagoreans and the druids. m. reinach thinks there must have been some analogy between them, and that was hostility to anthropomorphism. but the analogy is distinctly stated to have lain in the doctrine of immortality or metempsychosis. had the druids been opposed to image-worship, classical observers could not have failed to notice the fact. m. reinach then argues that the druids caused the erection of the megalithic monuments in gaul, symbols not images. they are thus druidic, though not celtic. the monuments argue a powerful priesthood; the druids were a powerful priesthood; therefore the druids caused the monuments to be built. this is not a powerful argument![ ] as has been seen, some purely celtic images existed in gaul. the gauls, who used nothing but wood for their houses, probably knew little of the art of carving stone. they would therefore make most of their images of wood--a perishable material. the insular celts had images, and if, as cæsar maintained, the druids came from britain to gaul, this points at least to a similarity of cult in the two regions. youthful gauls who aspired to druidic knowledge went to britain to obtain it. would the druids of gaul have permitted this, had they been iconoclasts? no single text shows that the druids had any antipathy to images, while the gauls certainly had images of worshipful animals. further, even if the druids were priests of a pre-celtic folk, they must have permitted the making of images, since many "menhir-statues" exist on french soil, at aveyron, tarn, and elsewhere.[ ] the celts were in constant contact with image-worshipping peoples, and could hardly have failed to be influenced by them, even if such a priestly prohibition existed, just as israel succumbed to images in spite of divine commands. that they would have been thus influenced is seen from the number of images of all kinds dating from the period after the roman conquest. incidental proofs of the fondness of the celts for images are found in ecclesiastical writings and in late survivals. the procession of the image of berecynthia has already been described, and such processions were common in gaul, and imply a regular folk-custom. s. martin of tours stopped a funeral procession believing it to be such a pagan rite.[ ] councils and edicts prohibited these processions in gaul, but a more effectual way was to christianise them. the rogation tide processions with crucifix and madonna, and the carrying of s. john's image at the midsummer festivals, were a direct continuation of the older practices. images were often broken by christian saints in gaul, as they had been over-turned by s. patrick in ireland. "stiff and deformed" many of them must have been, if one may judge from the _groah-goard_ or "venus of quinipily," for centuries the object of superstitious rites in brittany.[ ] with it may be compared the fetich-stone or image of which an old woman in the island of inniskea, the guardian of a sacred well, had charge. it was kept wrapped up to hide it from profane eyes, but at certain periods it was brought out for adoration.[ ] the images and bas-reliefs of the gallo-roman period fall mainly into two classes. in the first class are those representing native divinities, like esus, tarvos trigaranos, smertullos, cernunnos, the horned and crouching gods, the god with the hammer, and the god with the wheel. busts and statues of some water-goddesses exist, but more numerous are the representations of epona. one of these is provided with a box pedestal in which offerings might be placed. the _matres_ are frequently figured, usually as three seated figures with baskets of fruit or flowers, or with one or more infants, like the madonna. images of triple-headed gods, supposed to be cernunnos, have been found, but are difficult to place in any category.[ ] to the images of the second class is usually attached the roman name of a god, but generally the native celtic name is added, but the images themselves are of the traditional roman type. among statues and statuettes of bronze, that of mercury occurs most often. this may point to the fact that cæsar's _simulacra_ of the native mercury were images, and that the old preference for representing this god continued in roman times. small figures of divinities in white clay have been found in large numbers, and may have been _ex votos_ or images of household _lararia_.[ ] symbols. images of the gods in gaul can be classified by means of their symbols--the mallet and cup (a symbol of plenty) borne by the god with the hammer, the wheel of the sun-god, the cornucopia and torque carried by cernunnos. other symbols occur on images, altars, monuments, and coins. these are the swastika and triskele, probably symbols of the sun;[ ] single or concentric circles, sometimes with rays;[ ] crosses; and a curious s figure. the triskele and the circles are sometimes found on faces figured on coins. they may therefore have been tattoo markings of a symbolic character. the circle and cross are often incised on bronze images of dispater. much speculation has been aroused by the s figure, which occurs on coins, while nine models of this symbol hang from a ring carried by the god with the wheel, but the most probable is that which sees in it a thunderbolt.[ ] but lacking any old text interpreting these various symbols, all explanations of them must be conjectural. some of them are not purely celtic, but are of world-wide occurrence. cult of weapons. here some reference may be made to the celtic cult of weapons. as has been seen, a hammer is the symbol of one god, and it is not unlikely that a cult of the hammer had preceded that of the god to whom the hammer was given as a symbol. esus is also represented with an axe. we need not repeat what has already been said regarding the primitive and universal cult of hammer or axe,[ ] but it is interesting to notice, in connection with other evidence for a celtic cult of weapons, that there is every reason to believe that the phrase _sub ascia dedicare_, which occurs in inscriptions on tombs from gallia lugdunensis, usually with the figure of an axe incised on the stone, points to the cult of the axe, or of a god whose symbol the axe was.[ ] in irish texts the power of speech is attributed to weapons, but, according to the christian scribe, this was because demons spoke from them, for the people worshipped arms in those days.[ ] thus it may have been believed that spirits tenanted weapons, or that weapons had souls. evidence of the cult itself is found in the fact that on gaulish coins a sword is figured, stuck in the ground, or driving a chariot, or with a warrior dancing before it, or held in the hand of a dancing warrior.[ ] the latter are ritual acts, and resemble that described by spenser as performed by irish warriors in his day, who said prayers or incantations before a sword stuck in the earth.[ ] swords were also addressed in songs composed by irish bards, and traditional remains of such songs are found in brittany.[ ] they represent the chants of the ancient cult. oaths were taken by weapons, and the weapons were believed to turn against those who lied.[ ] the magical power of weapons, especially of those over which incantations had been said, is frequently referred to in traditional tales and irish texts.[ ] a reminiscence of the cult or of the magical power of weapons may be found in the wonderful "glaives of light" of celtic folk-tales, and the similar mystical weapon of the arthurian romances. footnotes: [ ] lucan, _pharsalia_, iii. f. [ ] dio cass. lxii. ; tac. _ann._ xiv. . [ ] strabo, xii. . _drunemeton_ may mean "great temple" (d'arbois, _les celtes_, ). [ ] _antient laws of ireland_, i. . [ ] holder, ii. . cf. "indiculus" in grimm, _teut. myth._ , "de sacris silvarum, quas nimidas (= nemeta) vocant." [ ] livy, xxiii. ; polyb. ii. . [ ] cæsar, vi. , ; diod. sic. v. ; plutarch, _cæsar_, . [ ] see examples in dom martin, i. f.; cf. greg. tours, _hist. franc._ i. . [ ] see reinach, "les monuments de pierre brute dans le langage et les croyances populaires," _rev. arch._ , i. ; evans, "the roll-right stones," _folk-lore_, vi. f. [ ] rh[^y]s, _hl_ ; diod. sic. ii. . [ ] rh[^y]s, . [ ] joyce, _ocr_ ; kennedy, . [ ] lucan, i. , iii. f. [ ] cicero, _pro fonteio_, x. ; tac. _ann._ xiv. . cf. pomp. mela, iii. . . [ ] o'curry, _ms. mat._ ; cormac, . cf. _it_ iii. , for the practice of circumambulating altars. [ ] max. tyr. _dissert._ viii. ; lucan, iii. f. [ ] _antient laws of ireland_, iv. . [ ] _rev. arch._ i. pl. iii-v.; reinach, _rc_ xi. , xiii. . [ ] stokes, _martyr. of oengus_, - . [ ] see the twenty-third canon of council of arles, the twenty-third of the council of tours, , and ch. of the _capitularia_, . [ ] mabillon, _acta_, i. . [ ] reinach, _rev. arch._ , xxi. . [ ] blanchet, i. - , . [ ] justin, xliii. ; strabo, xii. . ; plutarch, _de virt. mul._ xx.; livy, v. . [ ] cormac, . [ ] keating, . see also stokes, _martyr. of oengus_, ; _rc_ xii. , § ; joyce, _sh_ f. [ ] _ll_ _b_; _trip. life_, i. , . [ ] o'curry, _ms. mat._ . [ ] keating, . [ ] jocelyn, _vita s. kentig._ , , ; ailred, _vita s. ninian._ . [ ] gildas, § . [ ] for the whole argument see reinach, _rc_ xiii. f. bertrand, _rev. arch._ xv. , supports a similar theory, and, according to both writers, gallo-roman art was the result of the weakening of druidic power by the romans. [ ] l'abbé hermet, assoc. pour l'avancement des sciences, _compte rendu_, , ii. ; _l'anthropologie_, v. . [ ] _corp. scrip. eccl. lat._ i. . [ ] monnier, . the image bears part of an inscription ... lit... and it has been thought that this read ilithyia originally. the name is in keeping with the rites still in use before the image. this would make it date from roman times. if so, it is a poor specimen of the art of the period. but it may be an old native image to which later the name of the roman goddess was given. [ ] roden, _progress of the reformation in ireland_, . the image was still existing in . [ ] for figures of most of these, see _rev. arch._ vols. xvi., xviii., xix., xxxvi.; _rc_ xvii. , xviii. , xx. , xxii. , xxiv. ; bertrand, _passim_; courcelle-seneuil, _les dieux gaulois d'apres les monuments figures_, paris, . [ ] see courcelle-seneuil, _op. cit._; reinach, _bf passim_, _catalogue sommaire du musée des ant. nat._{ } - . [ ] reinach, _catal._ , ; _rev. arch._ xvi. ; blanchet, i. , ; huchet, _l'art gaulois_, ii. . [ ] blanchet, i. ; reinach, _bf_ , , . [ ] blanchet, i. ; flouest, _deux stèles_ (append.), paris, ; reinach, _bf_ . [ ] p. , _supra_. [ ] hirschfeld in _cil_ xiii. . [ ] _rc_ xii. ; joyce, _sh_ i. . [ ] blanchet, i. f.; muret de la tour, _catalogue_, , , etc. [ ] _view of the state of ireland_, . [ ] _rc_ xx. ; martin, _Études de la myth. celt._ . [ ] _it_ i. ; _rc_ ix. . [ ] _cm_ xiii. f.; miss hull, , , . chapter xx. the druids. pliny thought that the name "druid" was a greek appellation derived from the druidic cult of the oak ([greek: _drus_]).[ ] the word, however, is purely celtic, and its meaning probably implies that, like the sorcerer and medicine-man everywhere, the druid was regarded as "the knowing one." it is composed of two parts--_dru_-, regarded by m. d'arbois as an intensive, and _vids_, from _vid_, "to know," or "see."[ ] hence the druid was "the very knowing or wise one." it is possible, however, that _dru_- is connected with the root which gives the word "oak" in celtic speech--gaulish _deruo_, irish _dair_, welsh _derw_--and that the oak, occupying a place in the cult, was thus brought into relation with the name of the priesthood. the gaulish form of the name was probably _druis_, the old irish was _drai_. the modern forms in irish and scots gaelic, _drui_ and _draoi_ mean "sorcerer." m. d'arbois and others, accepting cæsar's dictum that "the system (of druidism) is thought to have been devised in britain, and brought thence into gaul," maintain that the druids were priests of the goidels in britain, who imposed themselves upon the gaulish conquerors of the goidels, and that druidism then passed over into gaul about b.c.[ ] but it is hardly likely that, even if the druids were accepted as priests by conquering gauls in britain, they should have affected the gauls of gaul who were outside the reflex influence of the conquered goidels, and should have there obtained that power which they possessed. goidels and gauls were allied by race and language and religion, and it would be strange if they did not both possess a similar priesthood. moreover, the goidels had been a continental people, and druidism was presumably flourishing among them then. why did it not influence kindred celtic tribes without druids, _ex hypothesi_, at that time? further, if we accept professor meyer's theory that no goidel set foot in britain until the second century a.d., the gauls could not have received the druidic priesthood from the goidels. cæsar merely says, "it is thought (_existimatur_) that druidism came to gaul from britain."[ ] it was a pious opinion, perhaps his own, or one based on the fact that those who wished to perfect themselves in druidic art went to britain. this may have been because britain had been less open to foreign influences than gaul, and its druids, unaffected by these, were thought to be more powerful than those of gaul. pliny, on the other hand, seems to think that druidism passed over into britain from gaul.[ ] other writers--sir john rh[^y]s, sir g.l. gomme, and m. reinach--support on different grounds the theory that the druids were a pre-celtic priesthood, accepted by the celtic conquerors. sir john rh[^y]s thinks that the druidism of the aborigines of gaul and britain made terms with the celtic conquerors. it was accepted by the goidels, but not by the brythons. hence in britain there were brythons without druids, aborigines under the sway of druidism, and goidels who combined aryan polytheism with druidism. druidism was also the religion of the aborigines from the baltic to gibraltar, and was accepted by the gauls.[ ] but if so, it is difficult to see why the brythons, akin to them, did not accept it. our knowledge of brythonic religion is too scanty for us to prove that the druids had or had not sway over them, but the presumption is that they had. nor is there any historical evidence to show that the druids were originally a non-celtic priesthood. everywhere they appear as the supreme and dominant priesthood of the celts, and the priests of a conquered people could hardly have obtained such power over the conquerors. the relation of the celts to the druids is quite different from that of conquerors, who occasionally resort to the medicine-men of the conquered folk because they have stronger magic or greater influence with the autochthonous gods. the celts did not resort to the druids occasionally; _ex hypothesi_ they accepted them completely, were dominated by them in every department of life, while their own priests, if they had any, accepted this order of things without a murmur. all this is incredible. the picture drawn by cæsar, strabo, and others of the druids and their position among the celts as judges, choosers of tribal chiefs and kings, teachers, as well as ministers of religion, suggests rather that they were a native celtic priesthood, long established among the people. sir g.l. gomme supports the theory that the druids were a pre-celtic priesthood, because, in his opinion, much of their belief in magic as well as their use of human sacrifice and the redemption of one life by another, is opposed to "aryan sentiment." equally opposed to this are their functions of settling controversies, judging, settling the succession to property, and arranging boundaries. these views are supported by a comparison of the position of the druids relatively to the celts with that of non-aryan persons in india who render occasional priestly services to hindu village communities.[ ] whether this comparison of occasional hindu custom with celtic usage two thousand years ago is just, may be questioned. as already seen, it was no mere occasional service which the druids rendered to the celts, and it is this which makes it difficult to credit this theory. had the celtic house-father been priest and judge in his own clan, would he so readily have surrendered his rights to a foreign and conquered priesthood? on the other hand, kings and chiefs among the celts probably retained some priestly functions, derived from the time when the offices of the priest-king had not been differentiated. cæsar's evidence certainly does not support the idea that "it is only among the rudest of the so-called celtic tribes that we find this superimposing of an apparently official priesthood." according to him, the power of the druids was universal in gaul, and had their position really corresponded to that of the pariah priests of india, occasional priests of hindu villages, the determined hostility of the roman power to them because they wielded such an enormous influence over celtic thought and life, is inexplainable. if, further, aryan sentiment was so opposed to druidic customs, why did aryan celts so readily accept the druids? in this case the receiver is as bad as the thief. sir g.l. gomme clings to the belief that the aryans were people of a comparatively high civilisation, who had discarded, if they ever possessed, a savage "past." but old beliefs and customs still survive through growing civilisation, and if the views of professor sergi and others are correct, the aryans were even less civilised than the peoples whom they conquered.[ ] shape-shifting, magic, human sacrifice, priestly domination, were as much aryan as non-aryan, and if the celts had a comparatively pure religion, why did they so soon allow it to be defiled by the puerile superstitions of the druids? m. reinach, as we have seen, thinks that the celts had no images, because these were prohibited by their priests. this prohibition was pre-celtic in gaul, since there are no neolithic images, though there are great megalithic structures, suggesting the existence of a great religious aristocracy. this aristocracy imposed itself on the celts.[ ] we have seen that there is no reason for believing that the celts had no images, hence this argument is valueless. m. reinach then argues that the celts accepted druidism _en bloc_, as the romans accepted oriental cults and the greeks the native pelasgic cults. but neither romans nor greeks abandoned their own faith. were the celts a people without priests and without religion? we know that they must have accepted many local cults, but that they adopted the whole aboriginal faith and its priests _en bloc_ is not credible. m. reinach also holds that when the celts appear in history druidism was in its decline; the celt, or at least the military caste among the celts, was reasserting itself. but the druids do not appear as a declining body in the pages of cæsar, and their power was still supreme, to judge by the hostility of the roman government to them. if the military caste rebelled against them, this does not prove that they were a foreign body. such a strife is seen wherever priest and soldier form separate castes, each desiring to rule, as in egypt. other writers argue that we do not find druids existing in the danube region, in cisalpine territory, nor in transalpine gaul, "outside the limits of the region occupied by the celtæ."[ ] this could only have weight if any of the classical writers had composed a formal treatise on the druids, showing exactly the regions where they existed. they merely describe druidism as a general celtic institution, or as they knew it in gaul or britain, and few of them have any personal knowledge of it. there is no reason to believe that druids did not exist wherever there were celts. the druids and semnotheoi of the celts and galatæ referred to _c._ b.c. were apparently priests of other celts than those of gaul, and celtic groups of cisalpine gaul had priests, though these are not formally styled druids.[ ] the argument _ex silentio_ is here of little value, since the references to the druids are so brief, and it tells equally against their non-celtic origin, since we do not hear of druids in aquitania, a non-celtic region.[ ] the theory of the non-celtic origin of the druids assumes that the celts had no priests, or that these were effaced by the druids. the celts had priests called _gutuatri_ attached to certain temples, their name perhaps meaning "the speakers," those who spoke to the gods.[ ] the functions of the druids were much more general, according to this theory, hence m. d'arbois supposes that, before their intrusion, the celts had no other priests than the _gutuatri_.[ ] but the probability is that they were a druidic class, ministers of local sanctuaries, and related to the druids as the levites were to the priests of israel, since the druids were a composite priesthood with a variety of functions. if the priests and servants of belenos, described by ausonius and called by him _oedituus beleni_, were _gutuatri_, then the latter must have been connected with the druids, since he says they were of druidic stock.[ ] lucan's "priest of the grove" may have been a _gutuatros_, and the priests (_sacerdotes_) and other ministers (_antistites_) of the boii may have been druids properly so called and _gutuatri_.[ ] another class of temple servants may have existed. names beginning with the name of a god and ending in _gnatos_, "accustomed to," "beloved of," occur in inscriptions, and may denote persons consecrated from their youth to the service of a grove or temple. on the other hand, the names may mean no more than that those bearing them were devoted to the cult of one particular god. our supposition that the _gutuatri_ were a class of druids is supported by classical evidence, which tends to show that the druids were a great inclusive priesthood with different classes possessing different functions--priestly, prophetic, magical, medical, legal, and poetical. cæsar attributes these to the druids as a whole, but in other writers they are in part at least in the hands of different classes. diodorus refers to the celtic philosophers and theologians (druids), diviners, and bards, as do also strabo and timagenes, strabo giving the greek form of the native name for the diviners, [greek: ouateis], the celtic form being probably _vátis_ (irish, _fáith_).[ ] these may have been also poets, since _vátis_ means both singer and poet; but in all three writers the bards are a fairly distinct class, who sing the deeds of famous men (so timagenes). druid and diviner were also closely connected, since the druids studied nature and moral philosophy, and the diviners were also students of nature, according to strabo and timagenes. no sacrifice was complete without a druid, say diodorus and strabo, but both speak of the diviners as concerned with sacrifice. druids also prophesied as well as diviners, according to cicero and tacitus.[ ] finally, lucan mentions only druids and bards.[ ] diviners were thus probably a druidic sub-class, standing midway between the druids proper and the bards, and partaking of some of the functions of both. pliny speaks of "druids and this race of prophets and doctors,"[ ] and this suggests that some were priests, some diviners, while some practised an empiric medical science. on the whole this agrees with what is met with in ireland, where the druids, though appearing in the texts mainly as magicians, were also priests and teachers. side by side with them were the _filid_, "learned poets,"[ ] composing according to strict rules of art, and higher than the third class, the bards. the _filid_, who may also have been known as _fáthi_, "prophets,"[ ] were also diviners according to strict rules of augury, while some of these auguries implied a sacrifice. the druids were also diviners and prophets. when the druids were overthrown at the coming of christianity, the _filid_ remained as a learned class, probably because they had abandoned all pagan practices, while the bards were reduced to a comparatively low status. m. d'arbois supposes that there was rivalry between the druids and the _filid_, who made common cause with the christian missionaries, but this is not supported by evidence. the three classes in gaul--druids, _vates_, and bards--thus correspond to the three classes in ireland--druids, _fáthi_ or _filid_, and bards.[ ] we may thus conclude that the druids were a purely celtic priesthood, belonging both to the goidelic and gaulish branches of the celts. the idea that they were not celtic is sometimes connected with the supposition that druidism was something superadded to celtic religion from without, or that celtic polytheism was not part of the creed of the druids, but sanctioned by them, while they had a definite theological system with only a few gods.[ ] these are the ideas of writers who see in the druids an occult and esoteric priesthood. the druids had grown up _pari passu_ with the growth of the native religion and magic. where they had become more civilised, as in the south of gaul, they may have given up many magical practices, but as a class they were addicted to magic, and must have taken part in local cults as well as in those of the greater gods. that they were a philosophic priesthood advocating a pure religion among polytheists is a baseless theory. druidism was not a formal system outside celtic religion. it covered the whole ground of celtic religion; in other words, it was that religion itself. the druids are first referred to by pseudo-aristotle and sotion in the second century b.c., the reference being preserved by diogenes laertius: "there are among the celtæ and galatæ those called druids and semnotheoi."[ ] the two words may be synonymous, or they may describe two classes of priests, or, again, the druids may have been celtic, and the semnotheoi galatic (? galatian) priests. cæsar's account comes next in time. later writers gives the druids a lofty place and speak vaguely of the druidic philosophy and science. cæsar also refers to their science, but both he and strabo speak of their human sacrifices. suetonius describes their religion as cruel and savage, and mela, who speaks of their learning, regards their human sacrifices as savagery.[ ] pliny says nothing of the druids as philosophers, but hints at their priestly functions, and connects them with magico-medical rites.[ ] these divergent opinions are difficult to account for. but as the romans gained closer acquaintance with the druids, they found less philosophy and more superstition among them. for their cruel rites and hostility to rome, they sought to suppress them, but this they never would have done had the druids been esoteric philosophers. it has been thought that pliny's phrase, "druids and that race of prophets and doctors," signifies that, through roman persecution, the druids were reduced to a kind of medicine-men.[ ] but the phrase rather describes the varied functions of the druids, as has been seen, nor does it refer to the state to which the repressive edict reduced them, but to that in which it found them. pliny's information was also limited. the vague idea that the druids were philosophers was repeated parrot-like by writer after writer, who regarded barbaric races as rousseau and his school looked upon the "noble savage." roman writers, sceptical of a future life, were fascinated by the idea of a barbaric priesthood teaching the doctrine of immortality in the wilds of gaul. for this teaching the poet lucan sang their praises. the druids probably first impressed greek and latin observers by their magic, their organisation, and the fact that, like many barbaric priesthoods, but unlike those of greece and rome, they taught certain doctrines. their knowledge was divinely conveyed to them; "they speak the language of the gods;"[ ] hence it was easy to read anything into this teaching. thus the druidic legend rapidly grew. on the other hand, modern writers have perhaps exaggerated the force of the classical evidence. when we read of druidic associations we need not regard these as higher than the organised priesthoods of barbarians. their doctrine of metempsychosis, if it was really taught, involved no ethical content as in pythagoreanism. their astronomy was probably astrological[ ]; their knowledge of nature a series of cosmogonic myths and speculations. if a true druidic philosophy and science had existed, it is strange that it is always mentioned vaguely and that it exerted no influence upon the thought of the time. classical sentiment also found a connection between the druidic and pythagorean systems, the druids being regarded as conforming to the doctrines and rules of the greek philosopher.[ ] it is not improbable that some pythagorean doctrines may have reached gaul, but when we examine the point at which the two systems were supposed to meet, namely, the doctrine of metempsychosis and immortality, upon which the whole idea of this relationship was founded, there is no real resemblance. there are celtic myths regarding the rebirth of gods and heroes, but the eschatological teaching was apparently this, that the soul was clothed with a body in the other-world. there was no doctrine of a series of rebirths on this earth as a punishment for sin. the druidic teaching of a bodily immortality was mistakenly assumed to be the same as the pythagorean doctrine of the soul reincarnated in body after body. other points of resemblance were then discovered. the organisation of the druids was assumed by ammianus to be a kind of corporate life--_sodaliciis adstricti consortiis_--while the druidic mind was always searching into lofty things,[ ] but those who wrote most fully of the druids knew nothing of this. the druids, like the priests of all religions, doubtless sought after such knowledge as was open to them, but this does not imply that they possessed a recondite philosophy or a secret theology. they were governed by the ideas current among all barbaric communities, and they were at once priests, magicians, doctors, and teachers. they would not allow their sacred hymns to be written down, but taught them in secret,[ ] as is usual wherever the success of hymn or prayer depends upon the right use of the words and the secrecy observed in imparting them to others. their ritual, as far as is known to us, differs but little from that of other barbarian folk, and it included human sacrifice and divination with the victim's body. they excluded the guilty from a share in the cult--the usual punishment meted out to the tabu-breaker in all primitive societies. the idea that the druids taught a secret doctrine--monotheism, pantheism, or the like--is unsupported by evidence. doubtless they communicated secrets to the initiated, as is done in barbaric mysteries everywhere, but these secrets consist of magic and mythic formulæ, the exhibition of _sacra_, and some teaching about the gods or about moral duties. these are kept secret, not because they are abstract doctrines, but because they would lose their value and because the gods would be angry if they were made too common. if the druids taught religious and moral matters secretly, these were probably no more than an extension of the threefold maxim inculcated by them according to diogenes laertius: "to worship the gods, to do no evil, and to exercise courage."[ ] to this would be added cosmogonic myths and speculations, and magic and religious formulæ. this will become more evident as we examine the position and power of the druids. in gaul, and to some extent in ireland, the druids formed a priestly corporation--a fact which helped classical observers to suppose that they lived together like the pythagorean communities. while the words of ammianus--_sodaliciis adstricti consortiis_--may imply no more than some kind of priestly organisation, m. bertrand founds on them a theory that the druids were a kind of monks living a community life, and that irish monasticism was a transformation of this system.[ ] this is purely imaginative. irish druids had wives and children, and the druid diviciacus was a family man, while cæsar says not a word of community life among the druids. the hostility of christianity to the druids would have prevented any copying of their system, and irish monasticism was modelled on that of the continent. druidic organisation probably denoted no more than that the druids were bound by certain ties, that they were graded in different ranks or according to their functions, and that they practised a series of common cults. in gaul one chief druid had authority over the others, the position being an elective one.[ ] the insular druids may have been similarly organised, since we hear of a chief druid, _primus magus_, while the _filid_ had an _ard-file_, or chief, elected to his office.[ ] the priesthood was not a caste, but was open to those who showed aptitude for it. there was a long novitiate, extending even to twenty years, just as, in ireland, the novitiate of the _file_ lasted from seven to twelve years.[ ] the druids of gaul assembled annually in a central spot, and there settled disputes, because they were regarded as the most just of men.[ ] individual druids also decided disputes or sat as judges in cases of murder. how far it was obligatory to bring causes before them is unknown, but those who did not submit to a decision were interdicted from the sacrifices, and all shunned them. in other words, they were tabued. a magico-religious sanction thus enforced the judgments of the druids. in galatia the twelve tetrarchs had a council of three hundred men, and met in a place called drunemeton to try cases of murder.[ ] whether it is philologically permissible to connect _dru_- with the corresponding syllable in "druid" or not, the likeness to the gaulish assembly at a "consecrated place," perhaps a grove (_nemeton_), is obvious. we do not know that irish druids were judges, but the _filid_ exercised judgments, and this may be a relic of their connection with the druids.[ ] diodorus describes the druids exhorting combatants to peace, and taming them like wild beasts by enchantment.[ ] this suggests interference to prevent the devastating power of the blood-feud or of tribal wars. they also appear to have exercised authority in the election of rulers. convictolitanis was elected to the magistracy by the priests in gaul, "according to the custom of the state."[ ] in ireland, after partaking of the flesh of a white bull, probably a sacrificial animal, a man lay down to sleep, while four druids chanted over him "to render his witness truthful." he then saw in a vision the person who should be elected king, and what he was doing at the moment.[ ] possibly the druids used hypnotic suggestion; the medium was apparently clairvoyant. dio chrysostom alleges that kings were ministers of the druids, and could do nothing without them.[ ] this agrees on the whole with the witness of irish texts. druids always accompany the king, and have great influence over him. according to a passage in the _táin_, "the men of ulster must not speak before the king, the king must not speak before his druid," and even conchobar was silent until the druid cathbad had spoken.[ ] this power, resembling that of many other priesthoods, must have helped to balance that of the warrior class, and it is the more credible when we recall the fact that the druids claimed to have made the universe.[ ] the priest-kingship may have been an old celtic institution, and this would explain why, once the offices were separated, priests had or claimed so much political power. that political power must have been enhanced by their position as teachers, and it is safe to say that submission to their powers was inculcated by them. both in gaul and in ireland they taught others than those who intended to become druids.[ ] as has been seen, their teachings were not written down, but transmitted orally. they taught immortality, believing that thus men would be roused to valour, buttressing patriotism with dogma. they also imparted "many things regarding the stars and their motions, the extent of the universe and the earth, the nature of things, and the power and might of the immortal gods." strabo also speaks of their teaching in moral science.[ ] as has been seen, it is easy to exaggerate all this. their astronomy was probably of a humble kind and mingled with astrology; their natural philosophy a mass of cosmogonic myths and speculations; their theology was rather mythology; their moral philosophy a series of maxims such as are found in all barbaric communities. their medical lore, to judge from what pliny says, was largely magical. some druids, e.g. in the south of gaul, may have had access to classical learning, and cæsar speaks of the use of greek characters among them. this could hardly have been general, and in any case must have superseded the use of a native script, to which the use of ogams in ireland, and perhaps also in gaul, was supplementary. the irish druids may have had written books, for king loegaire desired that s. patrick's books and those of the druids should be submitted to the ordeal by water as a test of their owners' claims.[ ] in religious affairs the druids were supreme, since they alone "knew the gods and divinities of heaven."[ ] they superintended and arranged all rites and attended to "public and private sacrifices," and "no sacrifice was complete without the intervention of a druid."[ ] the dark and cruel rites of the druids struck the romans with horror, and they form a curious contrast to their alleged "philosophy." they used divination and had regular formulæ of incantation as well as ritual acts by which they looked into the future.[ ] before all matters of importance, especially before warlike expeditions, their advice was sought because they could scan the future. name-giving and a species of baptism were performed by the druids or on their initiative. many examples of this occur in irish texts, thus of conall cernach it is said, "druids came to baptize the child into heathenism, and they sang the heathen baptism (_baithis geintlídhe_) over the little child", and of ailill that he was "baptized in druidic streams".[ ] in welsh story we read that gwri was "baptized with the baptism which was usual at that time".[ ] similar illustrations are common at name-giving among many races,[ ] and it is probable that the custom in the hebrides of the midwife dropping three drops of water on the child _in nomine_ and giving it a temporary name, is a survival of this practice. the regular baptism takes place later, but this preliminary rite keeps off fairies and ensures burial in consecrated ground, just as the pagan rite was protective and admitted to the tribal privileges.[ ] in the burial rites, which in ireland consisted of a lament, sacrifices, and raising a stone inscribed with ogams over the grave, druids took part. the druid dergdamsa pronounced a discourse over the ossianic hero mag-neid, buried him with his arms, and chanted a rune. the ogam inscription would also be of druidic composition, and as no sacrifice was complete without the intervention of druids, they must also have assisted at the lavish sacrifices which occurred at celtic funerals. pliny's words, "the druids and that race of prophets and doctors", suggest that the medical art may have been in the hands of a special class of druids though all may have had a smattering of it. it was mainly concerned with the use of herbs, and was mixed up with magical rites, which may have been regarded as of more importance than the actual medicines used.[ ] in ireland druids also practised the healing art. thus when cúchulainn was ill, emer said, "if it had been fergus, cúchulainn would have taken no rest till he had found a druid able to discover the cause of that illness."[ ] but other persons, not referred to as druids, are mentioned as healers, one of them a woman, perhaps a reminiscence of the time when the art was practised by women.[ ] these healers may, however, have been attached to the druidic corporation in much the same way as were the bards. still more important were the magical powers of the druids--giving or withholding sunshine or rain, causing storms, making women and cattle fruitful, using spells, rhyming to death, exercising shape-shifting and invisibility, and producing a magic sleep, possibly hypnotic. they were also in request as poisoners.[ ] since the gauls went to britain to perfect themselves in druidic science, it is possible that the insular druids were more devoted to magic than those of gaul, but since the latter are said to have "tamed the people as wild beasts are tamed", it is obvious that this refers to their powers as magicians rather than to any recondite philosophy possessed by them. yet they were clear-sighted enough to use every means by which they might gain political power, and some of them may have been open to the influence of classical learning even before the roman invasion. in the next chapter the magic of the druids will be described in detail. the druids, both in gaul (at the mistletoe rite) and in ireland, were dressed in white, but strabo speaks of their scarlet and gold embroidered robes, their golden necklets and bracelets.[ ] again, the chief druid of the king of erin wore a coloured cloak and had earrings of gold, and in another instance a druid wears a bull's hide and a white-speckled bird headpiece with fluttering wings.[ ] there was also some special tonsure used by the druids,[ ] which may have denoted servitude to the gods, as it was customary for a warrior to vow his hair to a divinity if victory was granted him. similarly the druid's hair would be presented to the gods, and the tonsure would mark their minister. some writers have tried to draw a distinction between the druids of gaul and of ireland, especially in the matter of their priestly functions.[ ] but, while a few passages in irish texts do suggest that the irish druids were priests taking part in sacrifices, etc., nearly all passages relating to cult or ritual seem to have been deliberately suppressed. hence the druids appear rather as magicians--a natural result, since, once the people became christian, the priestly character of the druids would tend to be lost sight of. like the druids of gaul, they were teachers and took part in political affairs, and this shows that they were more than mere magicians. in irish texts the word "druid" is somewhat loosely used and is applied to kings and poets, perhaps because they had been pupils of the druids. but it is impossible to doubt that the druids in ireland fulfilled functions of a public priesthood. they appear in connection with all the colonies which came to erin, the annalists regarding the priests or medicine-men of different races as druids, through lack of historic perspective. but one fact shows that they were priests of the celtic religion in ireland. the euhemerised tuatha dé danann are masters of druidic lore. thus both the gods and the priests who served them were confused by later writers. the opposition of christian missionaries to the druids shows that they were priests; if they were not, it remains to be discovered what body of men did exercise priestly functions in pagan ireland. in ireland their judicial functions may have been less important than in gaul, and they may not have been so strictly organised; but here we are in the region of conjecture. they were exempt from military service in gaul, and many joined their ranks on this account, but in ireland they were "bonny fechters," just as in gaul they occasionally fought like mediæval bishops.[ ] in both countries they were present on the field of battle to perform the necessary religious or magical rites. since the druids were an organised priesthood, with powers of teaching and of magic implicitly believed in by the folk, possessing the key of the other-world, and dominating the whole field of religion, it is easy to see how much veneration must have been paid them. connoting this with the influence of the roman church in celtic regions and the power of the protestant minister in the highlands and in wales, some have thought that there is an innate tendency in the celt to be priest-ridden. if this be true, we can only say, "the people wish to have it so, and the priests--pagan, papist, or protestant--bear rule through their means!" thus a close examination of the position and functions of the druids explains away two popular misconceptions. they were not possessed of any recondite and esoteric wisdom. and the culling of mistletoe instead of being the most important, was but a subordinate part of their functions. in gaul the roman power broke the sway of the druids, aided perhaps by the spread of christianity, but it was christianity alone which routed them in ireland and in britain outside the roman pale. the druidic organisation, their power in politics and in the administration of justice, their patriotism, and also their use of human sacrifice and magic, were all obnoxious to the roman government, which opposed them mainly on political grounds. magic and human sacrifice were suppressed because they were contrary to roman manners. the first attack was in the reign of augustus, who prohibited roman citizens from taking part in the religion of the druids.[ ] tiberius next interdicted the druids, but this was probably aimed at their human sacrifices, for the druids were not suppressed, since they existed still in the reign of claudius, who is said to have abolished _druidarum religionem dirae immanitatis_.[ ] the earlier legislation was ineffective; that of claudius was more thorough, but it, too, was probably aimed mainly at human sacrifice and magic, since aurelius victor limits it to the "notorious superstitions" of the druids.[ ] it did not abolish the native religion, as is proved by the numerous inscriptions to celtic gods, and by the fact that, as mela informs us, human victims were still offered symbolically,[ ] while the druids were still active some years later. a parallel is found in the british abolition of s[=a]ti in india, while permitting the native religion to flourish. probably more effective was the policy begun by augustus. magistrates were inaugurated and acted as judges, thus ousting the druids, and native deities and native ritual were assimilated to those of rome. celtic religion was romanised, and if the druids retained priestly functions, it could only be by their becoming romanised also. perhaps the new state religion in gaul simply ignored them. the annual assembly of deputies at lugudunum round the altar of rome and augustus had a religious character, and was intended to rival and to supersede the annual gathering of the druids.[ ] the deputies elected a flamen of the province who had surveillance of the cult, and there were also flamens for each city. thus the power of the druids in politics, law, and religion was quietly undermined, while rome also struck a blow at their position as teachers by establishing schools throughout gaul.[ ] m. d'arbois maintains that, as a result of persecution, the druids retired to the depths of the forests, and continued to teach there in secret those who despised the new learning of rome, basing his opinion on passages of lucan and mela, both writing a little after the promulgation of the laws.[ ]. but neither lucan nor mela refer to an existing state of things, and do not intend their readers to suppose that the druids fled to woods and caverns. lucan speaks of them _dwelling_ in woods, i.e. their sacred groves, and resuming their rites after cæsar's conquest not after the later edicts, and he does not speak of the druids teaching there.[ ] mela seems to be echoing cæsar's account of the twenty years' novitiate, but adds to it that the teaching was given in secret, confusing it, however, with that given to others than candidates for the priesthood. thus he says: "docent multa nobilissimos gentis clam et diu vicenis annis aut in specu aut in abditis saltibus,"[ ] but there is not the slightest evidence that this secrecy was the result of the edicts. moreover, the attenuated sacrificial rites which he describes were evidently practised quite openly. probably some druids continued their teaching in their secret and sacred haunts, but it is unlikely that noble gauls would resort to them when greco-roman culture was now open to them in the schools, where they are found receiving instruction in a.d.[ ] most of the druids probably succumbed to the new order of things. some continued the old rites in a modified manner as long as they could obtain worshippers. others, more fanatical, would suffer from the law when they could not evade its grasp. some of these revolted against rome after nero's death, and it was perhaps to this class that those druids belonged who prophesied the world-empire of the celts in a.d.[ ] the fact that druids existed at this date shows that the proscription had not been complete. but the complete romanising of gaul took away their occupation, though even in the fourth century men still boasted of their druidic descent.[ ] the insular druids opposed the legions in southern britain, and in mona in a.d. they made a last stand with the warriors against the romans, gesticulating and praying to the gods. but with the establishment of roman power in britain their fate must have resembled that of the druids of gaul. a recrudescence of druidism is found, however, in the presence of _magi_ (druids) with vortigern after the roman withdrawal.[ ] outside the roman pale the druids were still rampant and practised their rites as before, according to pliny.[ ] much later, in the sixth century, they opposed christian missionaries in scotland, just as in ireland they opposed s. patrick and his monks, who combated "the hard-hearted druids." finally, christianity was victorious and the powers of the druids passed in large measure to the christian clergy or remained to some extent with the _filid_.[ ] in popular belief the clerics had prevailed less by the persuasive power of the gospel, than by successfully rivalling the magic of the druids. classical writers speak of _dryades_ or "druidesses" in the third century. one of them predicted his approaching death to alexander severus, another promised the empire to diocletian, others were consulted by aurelian.[ ] thus they were divineresses, rather than priestesses, and their name may be the result of misconception, unless they assumed it when druids no longer existed as a class. in ireland there were divineresses--_ban-filid_ or _ban-fáthi_, probably a distinct class with prophetic powers. kings are warned against "pythonesses" as well as druids, and dr. joyce thinks these were druidesses.[ ] s. patrick also armed himself against "the spells of women" and of druids.[ ] women in ireland had a knowledge of futurity, according to solinus, and the women who took part with the druids like furies at mona, may have been divineresses.[ ] in ireland it is possible that such women were called "druidesses," since the word _ban-drui_ is met with, the women so called being also styled _ban-fili_, while the fact that they belonged to the class of the _filid_ brings them into connection with the druids.[ ] but _ban-drui_ may have been applied to women with priestly functions, such as certainly existed in ireland--e.g. the virgin guardians of sacred fires, to whose functions christian nuns succeeded.[ ] we know also that the british queen boudicca exercised priestly functions, and such priestesses, apart from the _dryades_, existed among the continental celts. inscriptions at arles speak of an _antistita deae_, and at le prugnon of a _flaminica sacerdos_ of the goddess thucolis.[ ] these were servants of a goddess like the priestess of the celtic artemis in galatia, in whose family the priesthood was hereditary.[ ] the virgins called gallizenæ, who practised divination and magic in the isle of sena, were priestesses of a gaulish god, and some of the women who were "possessed by dionysus" and practised an orgiastic cult on an island in the loire, were probably of the same kind.[ ] they were priestesses of some magico-religious cult practised by women, like the guardians of the sacred fire in ireland, which was tabu to men. m. reinach regards the accounts of these island priestesses as fictions based on the story of circe's isle, but even if they are garbled, they seem to be based on actual observation and are paralleled from other regions.[ ] the existence of such priestesses and divineresses over the celtic area is to be explained by our hypothesis that many celtic divinities were at first female and served by women, who were possessed of the tribal lore. later, men assumed their functions, and hence arose the great priesthoods, but conservatism sporadically retained such female cults and priestesses, some goddesses being still served by women--the galatian artemis, or the goddesses of gaul, with their female servants. time also brought its revenges, for when paganism passed away, much of its folk-ritual and magic remained, practised by wise women or witches, who for generations had as much power over ignorant minds as the christian priesthood. the fact that cæsar and tacitus speak of germanic but not of celtic priestesses, can hardly, in face of these scattered notices, be taken as a proof that women had no priestly _rôle_ in celtic religion. if they had not, that religion would be unique in the world's history. footnotes: [ ] pliny, _hn_ xvi. . [ ] d'arbois, _les druides_, , following thurneysen. [ ] d'arbois, _op. cit._ f.; deloche, _revue des deux mondes_, xxxiv. ; desjardins, _geog. de la gaule romaine_, ii. . [ ] cæsar, vi. . [ ] pliny, _hn_ xxx. . [ ] rh[^y]s, _cb_{ } f. [ ] gomme, _ethnol. in folk-lore_, , _village community_, . [ ] sergi, _the mediterranean race_, . [ ] reinach, "l'art plastique en gaule et le druidisme," _rc_ xiii. . [ ] holmes, _cæsar's conquest of gaul_, ; dottin, . [ ] diog. laert. i. ; livy xxiii. . [ ] desjardins, _op. cit._ ii. ; but cf. holmes, . [ ] _gutuatros_ is perhaps from _gutu_-, "voice" (holder, i. ; but see loth, _rc_ xxviii. ). the existence of the _gutuatri_ is known from a few inscriptions (see holder), and from hirtius, _de bell. gall._ viii. , who mentions a _gutuatros_ put to death by cæsar. [ ] d'arbois, _les druides_, f., _les celtes_, . [ ] ausonius, _professor._ v. , xi. . [ ] lucan, iii. ; livy, xxiii. . [ ] diod. sic. v. ; strabo, iv. . ; timagenes _apud_ amm. marc. xv. . [ ] cicero, _de div._ i. . ; tac. _hist._ iv. . [ ] _phars._ i. f. [ ] _hn_ xxx. i. [ ] _filid_, sing. _file_, is from _velo_, "i see" (stokes, _us_ ). [ ] _fáthi_ is cognate with _vates_. [ ] in wales there had been druids as there were bards, but all trace of the second class is lost. long after the druids had passed away, the fiction of the _derwydd-vardd_ or druid-bard was created, and the later bards were held to be depositories of a supposititious druidic theosophy, while they practised the old rites in secret. the late word _derwydd_ was probably invented from _derw_, "oak," by some one who knew pliny's derivation. see d'arbois, _les druides_, . [ ] for these views see dottin, ; holmes, ; bertrand, - , - . [ ] diog. laert. i. proem. . for other references see cæsar, vi. , ; strabo, iv. . ; amm. marc. xv. ; diod. sic, v. ; lucan, i. ; mela, iii. . [ ] suet. _claud._ ; mela, iii. . [ ] pliny, xxx. . [ ] d'arbois, _les druides_, . [ ] diod. sic. v. . . [ ] see cicero, _de div._ i. . [ ] diod. sic. v. ; amm. marc. xv. ; hippolytus, _refut. hær._ i. . [ ] amm. marc. xv. . [ ] cæsar, vi. . [ ] diog. laert. . celtic enthusiasts see in this triple maxim something akin to the welsh triads, which they claim to be druidic! [ ] bertrand, . [ ] cæsar, vi. . [ ] _trip. life_, ii. , i. , ii. ; _it_ i. ; _rc_ xxvi. . the title _rig-file_, "king poet," sometimes occurs. [ ] cæsar, vi. . [ ] cæsar, vi. ; strabo, iv. . . [ ] strabo, xii. . . [ ] their judicial powers were taken from them because their speech had become obscure. perhaps they gave their judgments in archaic language. [ ] diod. sic. v. . . [ ] cæsar, vii. . [ ] _it_ i. ; d'arbois, v. . [ ] dio, _orat._ xlix. [ ] _ll_ . [ ] _ancient laws of ireland_, i. . [ ] cæsar, vi. , ; windisch, _táin_, line f.; _it_ i. ; _arch. rev._ i. ; _trip. life_, ; cf. o'curry, _mc_ ii. . [ ] cæsar, vi. ; strabo, iv. . . [ ] _trip. life_, . [ ] lucan, i. . [ ] diod. v. . ; cf. cæsar, vi. , ; strabo, iv. . . [ ] see p. , _supra_. [ ] _rc_ xiv. ; miss hull, , , ; _it_ iii. , ; stokes, _félire_, intro. . [ ] loth, i. . [ ] see my art. "baptism (ethnic)" in hastings' _encyclopædia of religion and ethics_, ii. f. [ ] carmichael, _carm. gadel._ i. . [ ] see p. , _supra_. [ ] _it_ i. . [ ] o'curry, _ms. mat._ , . [ ] _rc_ xvi. . [ ] pliny, _hn_ xvi. ; _trip. life_, ii. ; strabo, iv. . [ ] _rc_ xxii. ; o'curry, _mc_ ii. . [ ] reeves' ed. of adamnan's _life of s. col._ ; todd, _s. patrick_, ; joyce, _sh_ i. . for the relation of the druidic tonsure to the peculiar tonsure of the celtic church, see rh[^y]s, _hl_ , _cb_{ } ; gougaud, _les chrétientés celtiques_, . [ ] see hyde, _lit. hist. of ireland_, ; joyce, _sh_ i. . [ ] cæsar, vi. , ii. . [ ] suetonius, _claud._ . [ ] pliny _hn_ xxx. ; suet. _claud._ . [ ] _de cæsaribus_, , "famosæ superstitiones"; cf. p. , _infra_. [ ] mela, iii. . [ ] mommsen, _rom. gesch._ v. . [ ] bloch (lavisse), _hist. de france_, i. , f., f.; duruy, "comment périt l'institution druidique," _rev. arch._ xv. ; de coulanges, "comment le druidisme a disparu," _rc_ iv. . [ ] _les druides_, . [ ] _phars._ i. , "ye druids, after arms were laid aside, sought once again your barbarous ceremonials.... in remote forests do ye inhabit the deep glades." [ ] mela, iii. . [ ] tacit. iii. . [ ] ibid. iv. . [ ] ausonius, _prof._ v. , xi. . [ ] nennius, . in the irish version they are called "druids." see p. , _supra_. [ ] pliny, xxx. . [ ] adamnan, _vita s. col._, i. . ii. , etc.; reeves' _adamnan_, f.; stokes, _three homilies_, f.; _antient laws of ireland_, i. ; _rc_ xvii. f.; _it_ i. . [ ] lampridius, _alex. sev._ ; vopiscus, _numerienus_, , _aurelianus_, . [ ] windisch, _táin_, , ; cf. meyer, _contributions to irish lexicog._ joyce, _sh_ i. . [ ] _it_ i. . [ ] solinus, ; tac. _ann._ xiv. . [ ] _rc_ xv. , xvi. , ; windisch, _táin_, . in _ll_ _b_ we hear of "three druids and three druidesses." [ ] see p. , _supra_; keating, . [ ] jullian, ; holder, _s.v._ "thucolis." [ ] plutarch, _vir. mul._ . [ ] mela, iii. ; strabo, iv. . . [ ] reinach, _rc_ xviii. f. the fact that the rites were called dionysiac is no reason for denying the fact that some orgiastic rites were practised. classical writers usually reported all barbaric rites in terms of their own religion. m. d'arbois (vi. ) points out that circe was not a virgin, and had not eight companions. chapter xxi. magic. the celts, like all other races, were devoted to magical practices, many of which could be used by any one, though, on the whole, they were in the hands of the druids, who in many aspects were little higher than the shamans of barbaric tribes. but similar magical rites were also attributed to the gods, and it is probably for this reason that the tuatha dé danann and many of the divinities who appear in the _mabinogion_ are described as magicians. kings are also spoken of as wizards, perhaps a reminiscence of the powers of the priest king. but since many of the primitive cults had been in the hands of women, and as these cults implied a large use of magic, they may have been the earliest wielders of magic, though, with increasing civilisation, men took their place as magicians. still side by side with the magic-wielding druids, there were classes of women who also dealt in magic, as we have seen. their powers were feared, even by s. patrick, who classes the "spells of women" along with those of druids, and, in a mythic tale, by the father of connla, who, when the youth was fascinated by a goddess, feared that he would be taken by the "spells of women" (_brichta ban_).[ ] in other tales women perform all such magical actions as are elsewhere ascribed to druids.[ ] and after the druids had passed away precisely similar actions--power over the weather, the use of incantations and amulets, shape-shifting and invisibility, etc.--were, and still are in remote celtic regions, ascribed to witches. much of the druidic art, however, was also supposed to be possessed by saints and clerics, both in the past and in recent times. but women remained as magicians when the druids had disappeared, partly because of female conservatism, partly because, even in pagan times, they had worked more or less secretly. at last the church proscribed them and persecuted them. each clan, tribe, or kingdom had its druids, who, in time of war, assisted their hosts by magic art. this is reflected back upon the groups of the mythological cycle, each of which has its druids who play no small part in the battles fought. though pliny recognises the priestly functions of the druids, he associates them largely with magic, and applies the name _magus_ to them.[ ] in irish ecclesiastical literature, _drui_ is used as the translation of _magus_, e.g. in the case of the egyptian magicians, while _magi_ is used in latin lives of saints as the equivalent of the vernacular _druides_.[ ] in the sagas and in popular tales _druidecht_, "druidism," stands for "magic," and _slat an draoichta_, "rod of druidism," is a magic wand.[ ] the tuatha dé danann were said to have learned "druidism" from the four great master druids of the region whence they had come to ireland, and even now, in popular tales, they are often called "druids" or "danann druids."[ ] thus in ireland at least there is clear evidence of the great magical power claimed by druids. that power was exercised to a great extent over the elements, some of which druids claimed to have created. thus the druid cathbad covered the plain over which deirdre was escaping with "a great-waved sea."[ ] druids also produced blinding snow-storms, or changed day into night--feats ascribed to them even in the lives of saints.[ ] or they discharge "shower-clouds of fire" on the opposing hosts, as in the case of the druid mag ruith, who made a magic fire, and flying upwards towards it, turned it upon the enemy, whose druid in vain tried to divert it.[ ] when the druids of cormac dried up all the waters in the land, another druid shot an arrow, and where it fell there issued a torrent of water.[ ] the druid mathgen boasted of being able to throw mountains on the enemy, and frequently druids made trees or stones appear as armed men, dismaying the opposing host in this way. they could also fill the air with the clash of battle, or with the dread cries of eldritch things.[ ] similar powers are ascribed to other persons. the daughters of calatin raised themselves aloft on an enchanted wind, and discovered cúchulainn when he was hidden away by cathbad. later they produced a magic mist to discomfit the hero.[ ] such mists occur frequently in the sagas, and in one of them the tuatha dé danann arrived in ireland. the priestesses of sena could rouse sea and wind by their enchantments, and, later, celtic witches have claimed the same power. in folk-survivals the practice of rain-making is connected with sacred springs, and even now in rural france processions to shrines, usually connected with a holy well, are common in time of drought. thus people and priest go to the fountain of baranton in procession, singing hymns, and there pray for rain. the priest then dips his foot in the water, or throws some of it on the rocks.[ ] in other cases the image of a saint is carried to a well and asperged, as divine images formerly were, or the waters are beaten or thrown into the air.[ ] another custom was that a virgin should clean out a sacred well, and formerly she had to be nude.[ ] nudity also forms part of an old ritual used in gaul. in time of drought the girls of the village followed the youngest virgin in a state of nudity to seek the herb _belinuntia_. this she uprooted, and was then led to a river and there asperged by the others. in this case the asperging imitated the falling rain, and was meant to produce it automatically. while some of these rites suggest the use of magic by the folk themselves, in others the presence of the christian priest points to the fact that, formerly, a druid was necessary as the rain producer. in some cases the priest has inherited through long ages the rain-making or tempest-quelling powers of the pagan priesthood, and is often besought to exercise them.[ ] causing invisibility by means of a spell called _feth fiada_, which made a person unseen or hid him in a magic mist, was also used by the druids as well as by christian saints. s. patrick's hymn, called _fâed fiada_, was sung by him when his enemies lay in wait, and caused a glamour in them. the incantation itself, _fith-fath_, is still remembered in highland glens.[ ] in the case of s. patrick he and his followers appeared as deer, and this power of shape-shifting was wielded both by druids and women. the druid fer fidail carried off a maiden by taking the form of a woman, and another druid deceived cúchulainn by taking the form of the fair niamh.[ ] other druids are said to have been able to take any shape that pleased them.[ ] these powers were reflected back upon the gods and mythical personages like taliesin or amairgen, who appear in many forms. the priestesses of sena could assume the form of animals, and an irish circe in the _rennes dindsenchas_ called dalb the rough changed three men and their wives into swine by her spells.[ ] this power of transforming others is often described in the sagas. the children of lir were changed to swans by their cruel stepmother; saar, the mother of oisin, became a fawn through the power of the druid fear doirche when she rejected his love; and similarly tuirrenn, mother of oisin's hounds, was transformed into a stag-hound by the fairy mistress of her husband iollann.[ ] in other instances in the sagas, women appear as birds.[ ] these transformation tales may be connected with totemism, for when this institution is decaying the current belief in shape-shifting is often made use of to explain descent from animals or the tabu against eating certain animals. in some of these irish shape-shifting tales we find this tabu referred to. thus, when the children of lir were turned into swans, it was proclaimed that no one should kill a swan. the reason of an existing tabu seemed to be sufficiently explained when it was told that certain human beings had become swans. it is not impossible that the druids made use of hypnotic suggestion to persuade others that they had assumed another form, as red indian shamans have been known to do, or even hallucinated others into the belief that their own form had been changed. by a "drink of oblivion" druids and other persons could make one forget even the most dearly beloved. thus cúchulainn was made to forget fand, and his wife emer to forget her jealousy.[ ] this is a reminiscence of potent drinks brewed from herbs which caused hallucinations, e.g. that of the change of shape. in other cases they were of a narcotic nature and caused a deep sleep, an instance being the draught given by grainne to fionn and his men.[ ] again, the "druidic sleep" is suggestive of hypnotism, practised in distant ages and also by present-day savages. when bodb suspected his daughter of lying he cast her into a "druidic sleep," in which she revealed her wickedness.[ ] in other cases spells are cast upon persons so that they are hallucinated, or are rendered motionless, or, "by the sleight of hand of soothsayers," maidens lose their chastity without knowing it.[ ] these point to knowledge of hypnotic methods of suggestion. or, again, a spectral army is opposed to an enemy's force to whom it is an hallucinatory appearance--perhaps an exaggeration of natural hypnotic powers.[ ] druids also made a "hedge," the _airbe druad_, round an army, perhaps circumambulating it and saying spells so that the attacking force might not break through. if any one could leap this "hedge," the spell was broken, but he lost his life. this was done at the battle of cul dremne, at which s. columba was present and aided the heroic leaper with his prayers.[ ] a primitive piece of sympathetic magic used still by savages is recorded in the _rennes dindsenchas_. in this story one man says spells over his spear and hurls it into his opponent's shadow, so that he falls dead.[ ] equally primitive is the druidic "sending" a wisp of straw over which the druid sang spells and flung it into his victim's face, so that he became mad. a similar method is used by the eskimo _angekok_. all madness was generally ascribed to such a "sending." several of these instances have shown the use of spells, and the druid was believed to possess powerful incantations to discomfit an enemy or to produce other magical results. a special posture was adopted--standing on one leg, with one arm outstretched and one eye closed, perhaps to concentrate the force of the spell,[ ] but the power lay mainly in the spoken words, as we have seen in discussing celtic formulæ of prayer. such spells were also used by the _filid_, or poets, since most primitive poetry has a magical aspect. part of the training of the bard consisted in learning traditional incantations, which, used with due ritual, produced the magic result.[ ] some of these incantations have already come before our notice, and probably some of the verses which cæsar says the druids would not commit to writing were of the nature of spells.[ ] the virtue of the spell lay in the spoken formula, usually introducing the name of a god or spirit, later a saint, in order to procure his intervention, through the power inherent in the name. other charms recount an effect already produced, and this, through mimetic magic, is supposed to cause its repetition. the earliest written documents bearing upon the paganism of the insular celts contain an appeal to "the science of goibniu" to preserve butter, and another, for magical healing, runs, "i admire the healing which diancecht left in his family, in order to bring health to those he succoured." these are found in an eighth or ninth century ms., and, with their appeal to pagan gods, were evidently used in christian times.[ ] most druidic magic was accompanied by a spell-- transformation, invisibility, power over the elements, and the discovery of hidden persons or things. in other cases spells were used in medicine or for healing wounds. thus the tuatha dé danann told the fomorians that they need not oppose them, because their druids would restore the slain to life, and when cúchulainn was wounded we hear less of medicines than of incantations used to stanch his blood.[ ] in other cases the druid could remove barrenness by spells. the survival of the belief in spells among modern celtic peoples is a convincing proof of their use in pagan times, and throws light upon their nature. in brittany they are handed down in certain families, and are carefully guarded from the knowledge of others. the names of saints instead of the old gods are found in them, but in some cases diseases are addressed as personal beings. in the highlands similar charms are found, and are often handed down from male to female, and from female to male. they are also in common use in ireland. besides healing diseases, such charms are supposed to cause fertility or bring good luck, or even to transfer the property of others to the reciter, or, in the case of darker magic, to cause death or disease.[ ] in ireland, sorcerers could "rime either a man or beast to death," and this recalls the power of satire in the mouth of _file_ or druid. it raised blotches on the face of the victim, or even caused his death.[ ] among primitive races powerful internal emotion affects the body in curious ways, and in this traditional power of the satire or "rime" we have probably an exaggerated reference to actual fact. in other cases the "curse of satire" affected nature, causing seas and rivers to sink back.[ ] the satires made by the bards of gaul, referred to by diodorus, may have been believed to possess similar powers.[ ] contrariwise, the _filid_, on uttering an unjust judgment, found their faces covered with blotches.[ ] a magical sleep is often caused by music in the sagas, e.g. by the harp of dagda, or by the branch carried by visitants from elysium.[ ] many "fairy" lullabies for producing sleep are even now extant in ireland and the highlands.[ ] as music forms a part of all primitive religion, its soothing powers would easily be magnified. in orgiastic rites it caused varying emotions until the singer and dancer fell into a deep slumber, and the tales of those who joined in a fairy dance and fell asleep, awaking to find that many years had passed, are mythic extensions of the power of music in such orgiastic cults. the music of the _filid_ had similar powers to that of dagda's harp, producing laughter, tears, and a delicious slumber,[ ] and celtic folk-tales abound in similar instances of the magic charm of music. we now turn to the use of amulets among the celts. some of these were symbolic and intended to bring the wearer under the protection of the god whom they symbolised. as has been seen, a celtic god had as his symbol a wheel, probably representing the sun, and numerous small wheel discs made of different materials have been found in gaul and britain.[ ] these were evidently worn as amulets, while in other cases they were offered to river divinities, since many are met with in river beds or fords. their use as protective amulets is shown by a stele representing a person wearing a necklace to which is attached one of these wheels. in irish texts a druid is called mag ruith, explained as _magus rotarum_, because he made his druidical observations by wheels.[ ] this may point to the use of such amulets in ireland. a curious amulet, connected with the druids, became famous in roman times and is described by pliny. this was the "serpents' egg," formed from the foam produced by serpents twining themselves together. the serpents threw the "egg" into the air, and he who sought it had to catch it in his cloak before it fell, and flee to a running stream, beyond which the serpents, like the witches pursuing tam o' shanter, could not follow him. this "egg" was believed to cause its owner to obtain access to kings or to gain lawsuits, and a roman citizen was put to death in the reign of claudius for bringing such an amulet into court. pliny had seen this "egg." it was about the size of an apple, with a cartilaginous skin covered with discs.[ ] probably it was a fossil echinus, such as has been found in gaulish tombs.[ ] such "eggs" were doubtless connected with the cult of the serpent, or some old myth of an egg produced by serpents may have been made use of to account for their formation. this is the more likely, as rings or beads of glass found in tumuli in wales, cornwall, and the highlands are called "serpents' glass" (_glain naidr_), and are believed to be formed in the same way as the "egg." these, as well as old spindle-whorls called "adder stones" in the highlands, are held to have magical virtues, e.g. against the bite of a serpent, and are highly prized by their owners.[ ] pliny speaks also of the celtic belief in the magical virtues of coral, either worn as an amulet or taken in powder as a medicine, while it has been proved that the celts during a limited period of their history placed it on weapons and utensils, doubtless as an amulet.[ ] other amulets--white marble balls, quartz pebbles, models of the tooth of the boar, or pieces of amber, have been found buried with the dead.[ ] little figures of the boar, the horse, and the bull, with a ring for suspending them to a necklet, were worn as amulets or images of these divine animals, and phallic amulets were also worn, perhaps as a protection against the evil eye.[ ] a cult of stones was probably connected with the belief in the magical power of certain stones, like the _lia fail_, which shrieked aloud when conn knocked against it. his druids explained that the number of the shrieks equalled the number of his descendants who should be kings of erin.[ ] this is an ætiological myth accounting for the use of this fetich-stone at coronations. other stones, probably the object of a cult or possessing magical virtues, were used at the installation of chiefs, who stood on them and vowed to follow in the steps of their predecessors, a pair of feet being carved on the stone to represent those of the first chief.[ ] other stones had more musical virtues--the "conspicuous stone" of elysium from which arose a hundred strains, and the melodious stone of loch láig. such beliefs existed into christian times. s. columba's stone altar floated on the waves, and on it a leper had crossed in the wake of the saint's coracle to erin. but the same stone was that on which, long before, the hero fionn had slipped.[ ] connected with the cult of stones are magical observances at fixed rocks or boulders, regarded probably as the abode of a spirit. these observances are in origin pre-celtic, but were practised by the celts. girls slide down a stone to obtain a lover, pregnant women to obtain an easy delivery, or contact with such stones causes barren women to have children or gives vitality to the feeble. a small offering is usually left on the stone.[ ] similar rites are practised at megalithic monuments, and here again the custom is obviously pre-celtic in origin. in this case the spirits of the dead must have been expected to assist the purposes of the rites, or even to incarnate themselves in the children born as a result of barren women resorting to these stones.[ ] sometimes when the purpose of the stones has been forgotten and some other legendary origin attributed to them, the custom adapts itself to the legend. in ireland many dolmens are known, not as places of sepulture, but as "diarmaid and grainne's beds"--the places where these eloping lovers slept. hence they have powers of fruitfulness and are visited by women who desire children. the rite is thus one of sympathetic magic. holed dolmens or naturally pierced blocks are used for the magical cure of sickness both in brittany and cornwall, the patient being passed through the hole.[ ] similar rites are used with trees, a slit being often made in the trunk of a sapling, and a sickly child passed through it. the slit is then closed and bound, and if it joins together at the end of a certain time, this is a proof that the child will recover.[ ] in these rites the spirit in stone or tree was supposed to assist the process of healing, or the disease was transferred to them, or, again, there was the idea of a new birth with consequent renewed life, the act imitating the process of birth. these rites are not confined to celtic regions, but belong to that universal use of magic in which the celts freely participated. since christian writers firmly believed in the magical powers of the druids, aided however by the devil, they taught that christian saints had miraculously overcome them with their own weapons. s. patrick dispelled snow-storms and darkness raised by druids, or destroyed druids who had brought down fire from heaven. similar deeds are attributed to s. columba and others.[ ] the moral victory of the cross was later regarded also as a magical victory. hence also lives of celtic saints are full of miracles which are simply a reproduction of druidic magic--controlling the elements, healing, carrying live coals without hurt, causing confusion by their curses, producing invisibility or shape-shifting, making the ice-cold waters of a river hot by standing in them at their devotions, or walking unscathed through the fiercest storms.[ ] they were soon regarded as more expert magicians than the druids themselves. they may have laid claim to magical powers, or perhaps they used a natural shrewdness in such a way as to suggest magic. but all their power they ascribed to christ. "christ is my druid"--the true miracle-worker, said s. columba. yet they were imbued with the superstitions of their own age. thus s. columba sent a white stone to king brude at inverness for the cure of his druid broichan, who drank the water poured over it, and was healed.[ ] soon similar virtues were ascribed to the relics of the saints themselves, and at a later time, when most scotsmen ceased to believe in the saints, they thought that the ministers of the kirk had powers like those of pagan druid and catholic saint. ministers were levitated, or shone with a celestial light, or had clairvoyant gifts, or, with dire results, cursed the ungodly or the benighted prelatist. they prophesied, used trance-utterance, and exercised gifts of healing. angels ministered to them, as when samuel rutherford, having fallen into a well when a child, was pulled out by an angel.[ ] the substratum of primitive belief survives all changes of creed, and the folk impartially attributed magical powers to pagan druid, celtic saints, old crones and witches, and presbyterian ministers. footnotes: [ ] _it_ i. ; d'arbois, v. . [ ] see, e.g., "the death of muirchertach," _rc_ xxiii. . [ ] _hn_ xxx. , . [ ] zimmer, _gloss. hibern._ ; reeves, _adamnan_, . [ ] kennedy, ; cf. _it_ i. . [ ] see _rc_ xii. f.; d'arbois, v. - ; o'curry, _ms. mat._ ; kennedy, , , . [ ] d'arbois, v. . [ ] stokes, _three middle irish homilies_, ; _it_ iii. . [ ] _rc_ xii. ; miss hull, ; d'arbois, v. ; o'curry, _mc_ ii. . [ ] keating, ; o'curry, _ms. mat._ . [ ] _rc_ xii. . [ ] miss hull, f. [ ] maury, . [ ] sébillot, ii. f., i. , ii. ; bérenger-féraud, _superstitions et survivances_, iii. f.; _stat. account_, viii. . [ ] _rev. des trad._ , ; sébillot, ii. . [ ] bérenger-féraud, iii. f.; sébillot, i. , ; _rc_ ii. ; frazer, _golden bough_{ }, i. . [ ] d'arbois, v. ; _it_ i. ; dixon, _gairloch_, ; carmichael, _carm. gad._ ii. . [ ] _rc_ xvi. ; miss hull, . [ ] d'arbois, v. ; _it_ ii. . [ ] mela, iii. ; _rc_ xv. . [ ] joyce, _ocr_ f.; kennedy, . [ ] bird-women pursued by cúchulainn; d'arbois, v. ; for other instances see o'curry, _ms. mat._ ; miss hull, . [ ] d'arbois, v. . [ ] joyce, _ocr_ . [ ] ibid. . [ ] _rc_ xxiii. ; jocelyn, _vita s. kent._ c. . [ ] _rc_ xv. . [ ] o'conor, _rer. hib. scrip._ ii. ; stokes, _lives of saints_, xxviii. [ ] _rc_ xv. . [ ] see p. , _supra_. [ ] o'curry, _ms. mat._ . [ ] see pp. , , _supra_; cæsar, _vi_. . [ ] zimmer, _gloss. hiber._ . other irish incantations, appealing to the saints, are found in the _codex regularum_ at klosternenburg (_rc_ ii. ). [ ] leahy, i. ; kennedy, . [ ] sauvé, _rc_ vi. f.; carmichael, _carm. gadel._, _passim_; _cm_ xii. ; joyce, _sh_ i. f.; camden, _britannia_, iv. ; scot, _discovery of witchcraft_, iii. . [ ] for examples see o'curry, _ms. met._ ; d'arbois, ii. ; _rc_ xii. , xxiv. ; stokes, _tig_ xxxvi. f. [ ] windisch, _táin_, line . [ ] diod. sic. v. . [ ] d'arbois, i. . [ ] _rc_ xii. ; nutt-meyer, i. ; d'arbois, v. . [ ] petrie, _ancient music of ireland_, i. ; _the gael_, i. (fairy lullaby of macleod of macleod). [ ] o'curry, _ms. mat._ . [ ] _archæologia_, xxxix. ; _proc. soc. ant._ iii. ; gaidoz, _le dieu gaul. du soleil_, f. [ ] _it_ iii. ; but see rh[^y]s, _hl_ . [ ] pliny, _hn_ xxix. . . [ ] _rev. arch._ i. , xxxiii. . [ ] hoare, _modern wiltshire_, ; camden, _britannia_, ; hazlitt, ; campbell, _witchcraft_, . in the highlands spindle-whorls are thought to have been perforated by the adder, which then passes through the hole to rid itself of its old skin. [ ] pliny, xxxii. . ; reinach, _rc_ xx. f. [ ] _rev. arch._ i. ; greenwell, _british barrows_, ; elton, ; renel, f., f. [ ] reinach, _bf_ , , . [ ] o'curry, _ms mat._ . see a paper by hartland, "the voice of the stone of destiny," _folk-lore journal_, xiv. . [ ] petrie, _trans. royal irish acad._ xviii. pt. . [ ] o'curry, _ms. mat._ f. [ ] sébillot, i. f. [ ] trollope, _brittany_, ii. ; bérenger-féraud, _superstitions et survivances_, i. f.; borlase, _dolmens of ireland_, iii. , , f. [ ] _rev. des trad._ , ; bérenger-féraud, i. , ii. ; elworthy, _evil eye_, . [ ] bérenger-féraud, i. ; elworthy, , ; reinach, _l'anthropologie_, iv. . [ ] kennedy, ; adamnan, _vita s. col._ ii. . [ ] life of s. fechin of fore, _rc_ xii. ; life of s. kieran, o'grady, ii. ; amra cholumbchille, _rc_ xx. ; life of s. moling, _rc_ xxvii. ; and other lives _passim_. see also plummer, _vitæ sanctorum hiberniæ_. [ ] adamnan, ii. . this pebble was long preserved, but mysteriously disappeared when the person who sought it was doomed to die. [ ] wodrow, _analecta_, _passim_; walker, _six saints of the covenant_, ed. by dr. hay fleming. chapter xxii. the state of the dead. among all the problems with which man has busied himself, none so appeals to his hopes and fears as that of the future life. is there a farther shore, and if so, shall we reach it? few races, if any, have doubted the existence of a future state, but their conceptions of it have differed greatly. but of all the races of antiquity, outside egypt, the celts seem to have cherished the most ardent belief in the world beyond the grave, and to have been preoccupied with its joys. their belief, so far as we know it, was extremely vivid, and its chief characteristic was life in the body after death, in another region.[ ] this, coupled with the fact that it was taught as a doctrine by the druids, made it the admiration of classical onlookers. but besides this belief there was another, derived from the ideas of a distant past, that the dead lived on in the grave--the two conceptions being connected. and there may also have been a certain degree of belief in transmigration. although the celts believed that the soul could exist apart from the body, there seems to be no evidence that they believed in a future existence of the soul as a shade. this belief is certainly found in some late welsh poems, where the ghosts are described as wandering in the caledonian forest, but these can hardly be made use of as evidence for the old pagan doctrine. the evidence for the latter may be gathered from classical observers, from archæology and from irish texts. cæsar writes: "the druids in particular wish to impress this on them that souls do not perish, but pass from one to another (_ab aliis ... ad alios_) after death, and by this chiefly they think to incite men to valour, the fear of death being overlooked." later he adds, that at funerals all things which had been dear to the dead man, even living creatures, were thrown on the funeral pyre, and shortly before his time slaves and beloved clients were also consumed.[ ] diodorus says: "among them the doctrine of pythagoras prevailed that the souls of men were immortal, and after completing their term of existence they live again, the soul passing into another body. hence at the burial of the dead some threw letters addressed to dead relatives on the funeral pile, believing that the dead would read them in the next world."[ ] valerius maximus writes: "they would fain make us believe that the souls of men are immortal. i would be tempted to call these breeches-wearing folk fools, if their doctrine were not the same as that of the mantle-clad pythagoras." he also speaks of money lent which would be repaid in the next world, because men's souls are immortal.[ ] these passages are generally taken to mean that the celts believed simply in transmigration of the pythagorean type. possibly all these writers cite one common original, but cæsar makes no reference to pythagoras. a comparison with the pythagorean doctrine shows that the celtic belief differed materially from it. according to the former, men's souls entered new bodies, even those of animals, in this world, and as an expiation. there is nothing of this in the celtic doctrine. the new body is not a prison-house of the soul in which it must expiate its former sins, and the soul receives it not in this world but in another. the real point of connection was the insistence of both upon immortality, the druids teaching that it was bodily immortality. their doctrine no more taught transmigration than does the christian doctrine of the resurrection. roman writers, aware that pythagoras taught immortality _via_ a series of transmigrations, and that the druids taught a doctrine of bodily immortality, may have thought that the receiving of a new body meant transmigration. themselves sceptical of a future life or believing in a traditional gloomy hades, they were bound to be struck with the vigour of the celtic doctrine and its effects upon conduct. the only thing like it of which they knew was the pythagorean doctrine. looked at in this light, cæsar's words need not convey the idea of transmigration, and it is possible that he mistranslated some greek original. had these writers meant that the druids taught transmigration, they could hardly have added the passages regarding debts being paid in the other world, or letters conveyed there by the dead, or human sacrifices to benefit the dead there. these also preclude the idea of a mere immortality of the soul. the dead celt continued to be the person he had been, and it may have been that not a new body, but the old body glorified, was tenanted by his soul beyond the grave. this bodily immortality in a region where life went on as on this earth, but under happier conditions, would then be like the vedic teaching that the soul, after the burning of the body, went to the heaven of yama, and there received its body complete and glorified. the two conceptions, hindu and celtic, may have sprung from early "aryan" belief. this celtic doctrine appears more clearly from what lucan says of the druidic teaching. "from you we learn that the bourne of man's existence is not the silent halls of erebus, in another world (or region, _in orbe alio_) the spirit animates the members. death, if your lore be true, is but the centre of a long life." for this reason, he adds, the celtic warrior had no fear of death.[ ] thus lucan conceived the druidic doctrine to be one of bodily immortality in another region. that region was not a gloomy state; rather it resembled the egyptian aalu with its rich and varied existence. classical writers, of course, may have known of what appears to have been a sporadic celtic idea, derived from old beliefs, that the soul might take the form of an animal, but this was not the druidic teaching. again, if the gauls, like the irish, had myths telling of the rebirth of gods or semi-divine beings, these may have been misinterpreted by those writers and regarded as eschatological. but such myths do not concern mortals. other writers, timagenes, strabo, and mela,[ ] speak only of the immortality of the soul, but their testimony is probably not at variance with that of lucan, since mela appears to copy cæsar, and speaks of accounts and debts being passed on to the next world. this theory of a bodily immortality is supported by the irish sagas, in which ghosts, in our sense of the word, do not exist. the dead who return are not spectres, but are fully clothed upon with a body. thus, when cúchulainn returns at the command of s. patrick, he is described exactly as if he were still in the flesh. "his hair was thick and black ... in his head his eye gleamed swift and grey.... blacker than the side of a cooking spit each of his two brows, redder than ruby his lips." his clothes and weapons are fully described, while his chariot and horses are equally corporeal.[ ] similar descriptions of the dead who return are not infrequent, e.g. that of caoilte in the story of mongan, whom every one believes to be a living warrior, and that of fergus mac roich, who reappeared in a beautiful form, adorned with brown hair and clad in his former splendour, and recited the lost story of the _táin_.[ ] thus the irish celts believed that in another world the spirit animated the members. this bodily existence is also suggested in celtic versions of the "dead debtor" folk-tale cycle. generally an animal in whose shape a dead man helps his benefactor is found in other european versions, but in the celtic stories not an animal but the dead man himself appears as a living person in corporeal form.[ ] equally substantial and corporeal, eating, drinking, lovemaking, and fighting are the divine folk of the _síd_ or of elysium, or the gods as they are represented in the texts. to the celts, gods, _síde_, and the dead, all alike had a bodily form, which, however, might become invisible, and in other ways differed from the earthly body. the archæological evidence of burial customs among the celts also bears witness to this belief. over the whole celtic area a rich profusion of grave-goods has been found, consisting of weapons, armour, chariots, utensils, ornaments, and coins.[ ] some of the interments undoubtedly point to sacrifice of wife, children, or slaves at the grave. male and female skeletons are often in close proximity, in one case the arm of the male encircling the neck of the female. in other cases the remains of children are found with these. or while the lower interment is richly provided with grave-goods, above it lie irregularly several skeletons, without grave-goods, and often with head separated from the body, pointing to decapitation, while in one case the arms had been tied behind the back.[ ] all this suggests, taken in connection with classical evidence regarding burial customs, that the future life was life in the body, and that it was a _replica_ of this life, with the same affections, needs, and energies. certain passages in irish texts also describe burials, and tell how the dead were interred with ornaments and weapons, while it was a common custom to bury the dead warrior in his armour, fully armed, and facing the region whence enemies might be expected. thus he was a perpetual menace to them and prevented their attack.[ ] possibly this belief may account for the elevated position of many tumuli. animals were also sacrificed. hostages were buried alive with fiachra, according to one text, and the wives of heroes sometimes express their desire to be buried along with their dead husbands.[ ] the idea that the body as well as the soul was immortal was probably linked on to a very primitive belief regarding the dead, and one shared by many peoples, that they lived on in the grave. this conception was never forgotten, even in regions where the theory of a distant land of the dead was evolved, or where the body was consumed by fire before burial. it appears from such practices as binding the dead with cords, or laying heavy stones or a mound of earth on the grave, probably to prevent their egress, or feeding the dead with sacrificial food at the grave, or from the belief that the dead come forth not as spirits, but in the body from the grave. this primitive conception, of which the belief in a subterranean world of the dead is an extension, long survived among various races, e.g. the scandinavians, who believed in the barrow as the abiding place of the dead, while they also had their conception of hel and valhalla, or among the slavs, side by side with christian conceptions.[ ] it also survived among the celts, though another belief in the _orbis alius_ had arisen. this can be shown from modern and ancient folk-belief and custom. in numerous celtic folk-tales the dead rise in the body, not as ghosts, from the grave, which is sometimes described as a house in which they live. they perform their ordinary occupations in house or field; they eat with the living, or avenge themselves upon them; if scourged, blood is drawn from their bodies; and, in one curious breton tale, a dead husband visits his wife in bed and she then has a child by him, because, as he said, "sa compte d'enfants" was not yet complete.[ ] in other stories a corpse becomes animated and speaks or acts in presence of the living, or from the tomb itself when it is disturbed.[ ] the earliest literary example of such a tale is the tenth century "adventures of nera," based on older sources. in this nera goes to tie a withy to the foot of a man who has been hung. the corpse begs a drink, and then forces nera to carry him to a house, where he kills two sleepers.[ ] all such stories, showing as they do that a corpse is really living, must in essence be of great antiquity. another common belief, found over the celtic area, is that the dead rise from the grave, not as ghosts, when they will, and that they appear _en masse_ on the night of all saints, and join the living.[ ] as a result of such beliefs, various customs are found in use, apparently to permit of the corpse having freedom of movement, contrary to the older custom of preventing its egress from the grave. in the west of ireland the feet of the corpse are left free, and the nails are drawn from the coffin at the grave. in the hebrides the threads of the shroud are cut or the bindings of feet, hands, and face are raised when the body is placed in the coffin, and in brittany the arms and feet are left free when the corpse is dressed.[ ] the reason is said to be that the spirit may have less trouble in getting to the spirit world, but it is obvious that a more material view preceded and still underlies this later gloss. many stories are told illustrating these customs, and the earlier belief, christianised, appears in the tale of a woman who haunted her friends because they had made her grave-clothes so short that the fires of purgatory burnt her knees.[ ] earlier customs recorded among the celts also point to the existence of this primitive belief influencing actual custom. nicander says that the celts went by night to the tombs of great men to obtain oracles, so much did they believe that they were still living there.[ ] in ireland, oracles were also sought by sleeping on funeral cairns, and it was to the grave of fergus that two bards resorted in order to obtain from him the lost story of the _táin_. we have also seen how, in ireland, armed heroes exerted a sinister influence upon enemies from their graves, which may thus have been regarded as their homes--a belief also underlying the welsh story of bran's head. where was the world of the dead situated? m. reinach has shown, by a careful comparison of the different uses of the word _orbis_, that lucan's words do not necessarily mean "another world," but "another region," i.e. of this world.[ ] if the celts cherished so firmly the belief that the dead lived on in the grave, a belief in an underworld of the dead was bound in course of time to have been evolved as part of their creed. to it all graves and tumuli would give access. classical observers apparently held that the celtic future state was like their own in being an underworld region, since they speak of the dead celts as _inferi_, or as going _ad manes_, and plutarch makes camma speak of descending to her dead husband.[ ] what differentiated it from their own gloomy underworld was its exuberant life and immortality. this aspect of a subterranean land presented no difficulty to the celt, who had many tales of an underworld or under-water region more beautiful and blissful than anything on earth. such a subterranean world must have been that of the celtic dispater, a god of fertility and growth, the roots of things being nourished from his kingdom. from him men had descended,[ ] probably a myth of their coming forth from his subterranean kingdom, and to him they returned after death to a blissful life. several writers, notably m. d'arbois, assume that the _orbis alius_ of the dead was the celtic island elysium. but that elysium _never_ appears in the tales as a land of the dead. it is a land of gods and deathless folk who are not those who have passed from this world by death. mortals may reach it by favour, but only while still in life. it might be argued that elysium was regarded in pagan times as the land of the dead, but after christian eschatological views prevailed, it became a kind of fairyland. but the existing tales give no hint of this, and, after being carefully examined, they show that elysium had always been a place distinct from that of the departed, though there may have arisen a tendency to confuse the two. if there was a genuine celtic belief in an island of the dead, it could have been no more than a local one, else cæsar would not have spoken as he does of the celtic dispater. such a local belief now exists on the breton coast, but it is mainly concerned with the souls of the drowned.[ ] a similar local belief may explain the story told by procopius, who says that brittia (britain), an island lying off the mouth of the rhine, is divided from north to south by a wall beyond which is a noxious region. this is a distorted reminiscence of the roman wall, which would appear to run in this direction if ptolemy's map, in which scotland lies at right angles to england, had been consulted. thither fishermen from the opposite coast are compelled to ferry over at dead of night the shades of the dead, unseen to them, but marshalled by a mysterious leader.[ ] procopius may have mingled some local belief with the current tradition that ulysses' island of the shades lay in the north, or in the west.[ ] in any case his story makes of the gloomy land of the shades a very different region from the blissful elysium of the celts and from their joyous _orbis alius_, nor is it certain that he is referring to a celtic people. traces of the idea of an underworld of the dead exist in breton folk-belief. the dead must travel across a subterranean ocean, and though there is scarcely any tradition regarding what happens on landing, m. sébillot thinks that formerly "there existed in the subterranean world a sort of centralisation of the different states of the dead." if so, this must have been founded on pagan belief. the interior of the earth is also believed to be the abode of fabulous beings, of giants, and of fantastic animals, and there is also a subterranean fairy world. in all this we may see a survival of the older belief, modified by christian teaching, since the bretons suppose that purgatory and hell are beneath the earth and accessible from its surface.[ ] some british folk-lore brought to greece by demetrius and reported by plutarch might seem to suggest that certain persons--the mighty dead--were privileged to pass to the island elysium. some islands near britain were called after gods and heroes, and the inhabitants of one of these were regarded as sacrosanct by the britons, like the priestesses of sena. they were visited by demetrius, who was told that the storms which arose during his visit were caused by the passing away of some of the "mighty" or of the "great souls." it may have been meant that such mighty ones passed to the more distant islands, but this is certainly not stated. in another island, kronos was imprisoned, watched over by briareus, and guarded by demons.[ ] plutarch refers to these islands in another work, repeating the story of kronos, and saying that his island is mild and fragrant, that people live there waiting on the god who sometimes appears to them and prevents their departing. meanwhile they are happy and know no care, spending their time in sacrificing and hymn-singing or in studying legends and philosophy. plutarch has obviously mingled celtic elysium beliefs with the classical conception of the druids.[ ] in elysium there is no care, and favoured mortals who pass there are generally prevented from returning to earth. the reference to kronos may also be based partly on myths of celtic gods of elysium, partly on tales of heroes who departed to mysterious islands or to the hollow hills where they lie asleep, but whence they will one day return to benefit their people. so arthur passed to avalon, but in other tales he and his warriors are asleep beneath craig-y-ddinas, just as fionn and his men rest within this or that hill in the highlands. similar legends are told of other celtic heroes, and they witness to the belief that great men who had died would return in the hour of their people's need. in time they were thought not to have died at all, but to be merely sleeping and waiting for their hour.[ ] the belief is based on the idea that the dead are alive in grave or barrow, or in a spacious land below the earth, or that dead warriors can menace their foes from the tomb. thus neither in old sagas, nor in _märchen_, nor in popular tradition, is the island elysium a world of the dead. for the most part the pagan eschatology has been merged in that of christianity, while the elysium belief has remained intact and still survives in a whole series of beautiful tales. the world of the dead was in all respects a _replica_ of this world, but it was happier. in existing breton and irish belief--a survival of the older conception of the bodily state of the dead--they resume their tools, crafts, and occupations, and they preserve their old feelings. hence, when they appear on earth, it is in bodily form and in their customary dress. like the pagan gauls, the breton remembers unpaid debts, and cannot rest till they are paid, and in brittany, ireland, and the highlands the food and clothes given to the poor after a death, feed and clothe the dead in the other world.[ ] if the world of the dead was subterranean,--a theory supported by current folk-belief,[ ]--the earth-goddess or the earth-god, who had been first the earth itself, then a being living below its surface and causing fertility, could not have become the divinity of the dead until the multitude of single graves or barrows, in each of which the dead lived, had become a wide subterranean region of the dead. this divinity was the source of life and growth; hence he or she was regarded as the progenitor of mankind, who had come forth from the underworld and would return there at death. it is not impossible that the breton conception of ankou, death personified, is a reminiscence of the celtic dispater. he watches over all things beyond the grave, and carries off the dead to his kingdom. but if so he has been altered for the worse by mediæval ideas of "death the skeleton".[ ] he is a grisly god of death, whereas the celtic dis was a beneficent god of the dead who enjoyed a happy immortality. they were not cold phantasms, but alive and endowed with corporeal form and able to enjoy the things of a better existence, and clad in the beautiful raiment and gaudy ornaments which were loved so much on earth. hence celtic warriors did not fear death, and suicide was extremely common, while spanish celts sang hymns in praise of death, and others celebrated the birth of men with mourning, but their deaths with joy.[ ] lucan's words are thus the truest expression of celtic eschatology--"in another region the spirit animates the members; death, if your lore be true, is but the passage to enduring life." there is no decisive evidence pointing to any theory of moral retribution beyond the grave among the pagan celts. perhaps, since the hope of immortality made warriors face death without a tremor, it may have been held, as many other races have believed, that cowards would miss the bliss of the future state. again, in some of the irish christian visions of the other-world and in existing folk-belief, certain characteristics of hell may not be derived from christian eschatology, e.g. the sufferings of the dead from cold.[ ] this might point to an old belief in a cold region whither some of the dead were banished. in the _adventures of s. columba's clerics_, hell is reached by a bridge over a glen of fire,[ ] and a narrow bridge leading to the other world is a common feature in most mythologies. but here it may be borrowed from scandinavian sources, or from such christian writings as the _dialogues_ of s. gregory the great.[ ] it might be contended that the christian doctrine of hell has absorbed an earlier pagan theory of retribution, but of this there is now no trace in the sagas or in classical references to the celtic belief in the future life. nor is there any reference to a day of judgment, for the passage in which loegaire speaks of the dead buried with their weapons till "the day of erdathe," though glossed "the day of judgment of the lord," does not refer to such a judgment.[ ] if an ethical blindness be attributed to the celts for their apparent lack of any theory of retribution, it should be remembered that we must not judge a people's ethics wholly by their views of future punishment. scandinavians, greeks, and semites up to a certain stage were as unethical as the celts in this respect, and the christian hell, as conceived by many theologians, is far from suggesting an ethical deity. footnotes: [ ] skene, i. . [ ] cæsar, vi. , . [ ] diod. sic. v, . [ ] val. max. vi. . . [ ] _phars._ i. f. [ ] amm. marc. xv. ; strabo, iv. ; mela, iii. . [ ] miss hull, . [ ] nutt-meyer, i. ; miss hull, . [ ] larminie, ; hyde, _beside the fire_, , ; _cm_ xiii. ; campbell, _wht_, ii. ; le braz{ }, i. p. xii. [ ] von sacken, _das grabfeld von hallstatt_; greenwell, _british barrows_; _rc_ x. ; _antiquary_, xxxvii. ; blanchet, ii. f.; anderson, _scotland in pagan times_. [ ] _l'anthropologie_, vi. ; greenwell, _op. cit._ . [ ] nutt-meyer, i. ; o'donovan, _annals_, i. , ; _rc_ xv. . in one case the enemy disinter the body of the king of connaught, and rebury it face downwards, and then obtain a victory. this nearly coincides with the dire results following the disinterment of bran's head (o'donovan, i. ; cf. p. , _supra_). [ ] _lu_ _a_; _rc_ xxiv. ; o'curry, _mc_ i. p. cccxxx; campbell, _wht_ iii. ; leahy, i. . [ ] vigfusson-powell, _corpus poet. boreale_, i. , - , ; and see my _childhood of fiction_, f. [ ] larminie, ; le braz{ }, ii. , , , , (the _rôle_ of the dead husband is usually taken by a _lutin_ or _follet_, luzel, _veillées bretons_, ); _rev. des trad. pop._ ii. ; _ann. de bretagne_, viii. . [ ] le braz{ }, i. . cf. also an incident in the _voyage of maelduin_. [ ] _rc_ x. f. cf. kennedy, ; le braz{ }, i. , for variants. [ ] curtin, _tales_, ; see p. , _supra_. [ ] curtin, _tales_, ; campbell, _superstitions_, ; _folk-lore_, xiii. ; le braz{ }, i. . [ ] _folk-lore_, ii. ; yeats, _celtic twilight_, . [ ] tertullian, _de anima_, . [ ] reinach, _rc_ xxii. . [ ] val. max. vi. ; mela, iii. . ; plut. _virt. mul_ . [ ] see p. , _supra_. [ ] le braz{ }, i. p. xxxix. this is only one out of many local beliefs (cf. sébillot, ii. ). [ ] procop. _de bello goth._ vi. . [ ] claudian, _in rufin._ i. . [ ] sébillot, i. f. [ ] _de defectu orac._ . an occasional name for britain in the _mabinogion_ is "the island of the mighty" (loth, i. , _et passim_). to the storm incident and the passing of the mighty, there is a curious parallel in fijian belief. a clap of thunder was explained as "the noise of a spirit, we being near the place in which spirits plunge to enter the other world, and a chief in the neighbourhood having just died" (williams, _fiji_, i. ). [ ] _de facie lun[oe]_, . [ ] see hartland, _science of fairy tales_, ; macdougall, _folk and hero tales_, , ; le braz{ }, i. p. xxx. mortals sometimes penetrated to the presence of these heroes, who awoke. if the visitor had the courage to tell them that the hour had not yet come, they fell asleep again, and he escaped. in brittany, rocky clefts are believed to be the entrance to the world of the dead, like the cave of lough dearg. similar stories were probably told of these in pagan times, though they are now adapted to christian beliefs in purgatory or hell. [ ] le braz{ }, i. p. xl, ii. ; curtin, ; macphail, _folk-lore_, vi. . [ ] see p. , _supra_, and logan, _scottish gael_, ii. ; _folk-lore,_ viii. , . [ ] le braz{ }, i. , , f., and intro, xlv. [ ] philostratus, _apoll. of tyana_, v. ; val. max. ii. . . [ ] le braz{ }, ii. ; curtin, _tales_, . the punishment of suffering from ice and snow appears in the _apocalypse of paul_ and in later christian accounts of hell. [ ] _rc_ xxvi. . [ ] bk. iv. ch. . [ ] _erdathe_, according to d'arbois, means ( ) "the day in which the dead will resume his colour," from _dath_, "colour"; ( ) "the agreeable day," from _data_, "agreeable" (d'arbois, i. ; cf. _les druides_, ). chapter xxiii. rebirth and transmigration. in irish sagas, rebirth is asserted only of divinities or heroes, and, probably because this belief was obnoxious to christian scribes, while some mss. tell of it in the case of certain heroic personages, in others these same heroes are said to have been born naturally. there is no textual evidence that it was attributed to ordinary mortals, and it is possible that, if classical observers did not misunderstand the celtic doctrine of the future life, their references to rebirth may be based on mythical tales regarding gods or heroes. we shall study these tales as they are found in irish texts. in the mythological cycle, as has been seen, etain, in insect form, fell into a cup of wine. she was swallowed by etar, and in due time was reborn as a child, who was eventually married by eochaid airem, but recognized and carried off by her divine spouse mider. etain, however, had quite forgotten her former existence as a goddess.[ ] in one version of cúchulainn's birth story dechtire and her women fly away as birds, but are discovered at last by her brother conchobar in a strange house, where dechtire gives birth to a child, of whom the god lug is apparently the father. in another version the birds are not dechtire and her women, for she accompanies conchobar as his charioteer. they arrive at the house, the mistress of which gives birth to a child, which dechtire brings up. it dies, and on her return from the burial dechtire swallows a small animal when drinking. lug appears to her by night, and tells her that he was the child, and that now she was with child by him (i.e. he was the animal swallowed by her). when he was born he would be called setanta, who was later named cúchulainn. cúchulainn, in this version, is thus a rebirth of lug, as well as his father.[ ] in the _tale of the two swineherds_, friuch and rucht are herds of the gods ochall and bodb. they quarrel, and their fighting in various animal shapes is fully described. finally they become two worms, which are swallowed by two cows; these then give birth to the whitehorn and to the black bull of cuailgne, the animals which were the cause of the _táin._ the swineherds were probably themselves gods in the older versions of this tale.[ ] other stories relate the rebirth of heroes. conchobar is variously said to be son of nessa by her husband cathbad, or by her lover fachtna. but in the latter version an incident is found which points to a third account. nessa brings cathbad a draught from a river, but in it are two worms which he forces her to swallow. she gives birth to a son, in each of whose hands is a worm, and he is called conchobar, after the name of the river into which he fell soon after his birth. the incident closes with the words, "it was from these worms that she became pregnant, say some."[ ] possibly the divinity of the river had taken the form of the worms and was reborn as conchobar. we may compare the story of the birth of conall cernach. his mother was childless, until a druid sang spells over a well in which she bathed, and drank of its waters. with the draught she swallowed a worm, "and the worm was in the hand of the boy as he lay in his mother's womb; and he pierced the hand and consumed it."[ ] the personality of fionn is also connected with the rebirth idea. in one story, mongan, a seventh-century king, had a dispute with his poet regarding the death of the hero fothad. the fian caoilte returns from the dead to prove mongan right, and he says, "we were with thee, with fionn." mongan bids him be silent, because he did not wish his identity with fionn to be made known. "mongan, however, was fionn, though he would not let it be told."[ ] in another story mongan is son of manannan, who had prophesied of this event. manannan appeared to the wife of fiachna when he was fighting the saxons, and told her that unless she yielded herself to him her husband would be slain. on hearing this she agreed, and next day the god appeared fighting with fiachna's forces and routed the slain. "so that this mongan is a son of manannan mac lir, though he is called mongan son of fiachna."[ ] in a third version manannan makes the bargain with fiachna, and in his form sleeps with the woman. simultaneously with mongan's birth, fiachna's attendant had a son who became mongan's servant, and a warrior's wife bears a daughter who became his wife. manannan took mongan to the land of promise and kept him there until he was sixteen.[ ] many magical powers and the faculty of shape-shifting are attributed to mongan, and in some stories he is brought into connection with the _síd_.[ ] probably a myth told how he went to elysium instead of dying, for he comes from "the land of living heart" to speak with s. columba, who took him to see heaven. but he would not satisfy the saints' curiosity regarding elysium, and suddenly vanished, probably returning there.[ ] this twofold account of mongan's birth is curious. perhaps the idea that he was a rebirth of fionn may have been suggested by the fact that his father was called fiachna finn, while it is probable that some old myth of a son of manannan's called mongan was attached to the personality of the historic mongan. about the era of mongan, king diarmaid had two wives, one of whom was barren. s. finnen gave her holy water to drink, and she brought forth a lamb; then, after a second draught, a trout, and finally, after a third, aed slane, who became high king of ireland in . this is a christianised version of the story of conall cernach's birth.[ ] in welsh mythology the story of taliesin affords an example of rebirth. after the transformation combat of the goddess cerridwen and gwion, resembling that of the swine-herds, gwion becomes a grain of wheat, which cerridwen in the form of a hen swallows, with the result that he is reborn of her as taliesin.[ ] most of these stories no longer exist in their primitive form, and various ideas are found in them--conception by magical means, divine descent through the _amour_ of a divinity and a mortal, and rebirth. as to the first, the help of magician or priest is often invoked in savage society and even in european folk-custom in case of barrenness. prayers, charms, potions, or food are the means used to induce conception, but perhaps at one time these were thought to cause it of themselves. in many tales the swallowing of a seed, fruit, insect, etc., results in the birth of a hero or heroine, and it is probable that these stories embody actual belief in such a possibility. if the stories of conall cernach and aed slane are not attenuated instances of rebirth, say, of the divinity of a well, they are examples of this belief. the gift of fruitfulness is bestowed by druid and saint, but in the story of conall it is rather the swallowing of the worm than the druid's incantation that causes conception, and is the real _motif_ of the tale. where the rebirth of a divinity occurs as the result of the swallowing of a small animal, it is evident that the god has first taken this form. the celt, believing in conception by swallowing some object, and in shape-shifting, combined his information, and so produced a third idea, that a god could take the form of a small animal, which, when swallowed, became his rebirth.[ ] if, as the visits of barren women to dolmens and megalithic monuments suggest, the celts believed in the possibility of the spirit of a dead man entering a woman and being born of her or at least aiding conception,--a belief held by other races,[ ]--this may have given rise to myths regarding the rebirth of gods by human mothers. at all events this latter celtic belief is paralleled by the american indian myths, e.g. of the thlinkeet god yehl who transformed himself now into a pebble, now into a blade of grass, and, being thus swallowed by women, was reborn. in the stories of etain and of lud, reborn as setanta, this idea of divine transformation and rebirth occurs. a similar idea may underlie the tale of fionn and mongan. as to the tales of gwion and the swineherds, the latter the servants of gods, and perhaps themselves regarded once as divinities, who in their rebirth as bulls are certainly divine animals, they present some features which require further consideration. the previous transformations in both cases belong to the transformation combat formula of many _märchen_, and obviously were not part of the original form of the myths. in all such _märchen_ the antagonists are males, hence the rebirth incident could not form part of them. in the welsh tale of gwion and in the corresponding taliesin poem, the ingenious fusion of the _märchen_ formula with an existing myth of rebirth must have taken place at an early date.[ ] this is also true of _the two swineherds_, but in this case, since the myth told how two gods took the form of worms and were reborn of cows, the formula had to be altered. both remain alive at the end of the combat, contrary to the usual formula, because both were males and both were reborn. the fusion is skilful, because the reborn personages preserve a remembrance of their former transformations,[ ] just as mongan knows of his former existence as fionn. in other cases there is no such remembrance. etain had forgotten her former existence, and cúchulainn does not appear to know that he is a rebirth of lug. the relation of lug to cúchulainn deserves further inquiry. while the god is reborn he is also existing as lug, just as having been swallowed as a worm by dechtire, he appears in his divine form and tells her he will be born of her. in the _táin_ he appears fighting for cúchulainn, whom he there calls his son. there are thus two aspects of the hero's relationship to lug; in one he is a rebirth of the god, in the other he is his son, as indeed he seems to represent himself in _the wooing of emer_, and as he is called by laborcham just before his death.[ ] in one of the birth-stories he is clearly lug's son by dechtire. but both versions may simply be different aspects of one belief, namely, that a god could be reborn as a mortal and yet continue his divine existence, because all birth is a kind of rebirth. the men of ulster sought a wife for cúchulainn, "knowing that his rebirth would be of himself," i.e. his son would be himself even while he continued to exist as his father. examples of such a belief occur elsewhere, e.g. in the _laws_ of manu, where the husband is said to be reborn of his wife, and in ancient egypt, where the gods were called "self-begotten," because each was father to the son who was his true image or himself. likeness implied identity, in primitive belief. thus the belief in mortal descent from the gods among the celts may have involved the theory of a divine avatar. the god became father of a mortal by a woman, and part of himself passed over to the child, who was thus the god himself. conchobar was also a rebirth of a god, but he was named from the river whence his mother had drawn water containing the worms which she swallowed. this may point to a lost version in which he was the son of a river-god by nessa. this was quite in accordance with celtic belief, as is shown by such names as dubrogenos, from _dubron_, "water," and _genos_, "born of"; divogenos, divogena, "son or daughter of a god," possibly a river-god, since _deivos_ is a frequent river name; and rhenogenus, "son of the rhine."[ ] the persons who first bore these names were believed to have been begotten by divinities. mongan's descent from manannan, god of the sea, is made perfectly clear, and the welsh name morgen = _morigenos_, "son of the sea," probably points to a similar tale now lost. other celtic names are frequently pregnant with meaning, and tell of a once-existing rich mythology of divine _amours_ with mortals. they show descent from deities--camulogenus (son of camulos), esugenos (son of esus), boduogenus (son of bodva); or from tree-spirits--dergen (son of the oak), vernogenus (son of the alder); or from divine animals--arthgen (son of the bear), urogenus (son of the urus).[ ] what was once an epithet describing divine filiation became later a personal name. so in greece names like apollogenes, diogenes, and hermogenes, had once been epithets of heroes born of apollo, zeus, and hermes. thus it was a vital celtic belief that divinities might unite with mortals and beget children. heroes enticed away to elysium enjoyed the love of its goddesses--cúchulainn that of fand; connla, bran, and oisin that of unnamed divinities. so, too, the goddess morrigan offered herself to cúchulainn. the christian celts of the fifth century retained this belief, though in a somewhat altered form. s. augustine and others describe the shaggy demons called _dusii_ by the gauls, who sought the couches of women in order to gratify their desires.[ ] the _dusii_ are akin to the _incubi_ and _fauni_, and do not appear to represent the higher gods reduced to the form of demons by christianity, but rather a species of lesser divinities, once the object of popular devotion. these beliefs are also connected with the celtic notions of transformation and transmigration--the one signifying the assuming of another shape for a time, the other the passing over of the soul or the personality into another body, perhaps one actually existing, but more usually by actual rebirth. as has been seen, this power of transformation was claimed by the druids and by other persons, or attributed to them, and they were not likely to minimise their powers, and would probably boast of them on all occasions. such boasts are put into the mouths of the irish amairgen and the welsh taliesin. as the milesians were approaching ireland, amairgen sang verses which were perhaps part of a ritual chant: "i am the wind which blows over the sea, i am the wave of the ocean, i am the bull of seven battles, i am the eagle on the rock... i am a boar for courage, i am a salmon in the water, etc."[ ] professor rh[^y]s points out that some of these verses need not mean actual transformation, but mere likeness, through "a primitive formation of predicate without the aid of a particle corresponding to such a word as 'like.'"[ ] enough, however, remains to show the claim of the magician. taliesin, in many poems, makes similar claims, and says, "i have been in a multitude of shapes before i assumed a consistent form"--that of a sword, a tear, a star, an eagle, etc. then he was created, without father or mother.[ ] similar pretensions are common to the medicine-man everywhere. but from another point of view they may be mere poetic extravagances such as are common in celtic poetry.[ ] thus cúchulainn says: "i was a hound strong for combat ... their little champion ... the casket of every secret for the maidens," or, in another place, "i am the bark buffeted from wave to wave ... the ship after the losing of its rudder ... the little apple on the top of the tree that little thought of its falling."[ ] these are metaphoric descriptions of a comparatively simple kind. the full-blown bombast appears in the _colloquy of the two sages_, where nede and fercertne exhaust language in describing themselves to each other.[ ] other welsh bards besides taliesin make similar boasts to his, and dr. skene thinks that their claims "may have been mere bombast."[ ] still some current belief in shape-shifting, or even in rebirth, underlies some of these boastings and gives point to them. amairgen's "i am" this or that, suggests the inherent power of transformation; taliesin's "i have been," the actual transformations. such assertions do not involve "the powerful pantheistic doctrine which is at once the glory and error of irish philosophy," as m. d'arbois claims,[ ] else are savage medicine-men, boastful of their shape-shifting powers, philosophic pantheists. the poems are merely highly developed forms of primitive beliefs in shape-shifting, such as are found among all savages and barbaric folk, but expressed in the boastful language in which the celt delighted. how were the successive shape-shiftings effected? to answer this we shall first look at the story of tuan mac caraill, who survived from the days of partholan to those of s. finnen. he was a decrepit man at the coming of nemed, and one night, having lain down to sleep, he awoke as a stag, and lived in this form to old age. in the same way he became a boar, a hawk, and a salmon, which was caught and eaten by cairell's wife, of whom he was born as tuan, with a perfect recollection of his different forms.[ ] this story, the invention of a ninth or tenth century christian scribe to account for the current knowledge of the many invasions of ireland,[ ] must have been based on pagan myths of a similar kind, involving successive transformations and a final rebirth. such a myth may have been told of taliesin, recounting his transformations and his final rebirth, the former being replaced at a later time by the episode of the transformation combat, involving no great lapse of time. such a series of successive shapes--of every beast, a dragon, a wolf, a stag, a salmon, a seal, a swan--were ascribed to mongan and foretold by manannan, and mongan refers to some of them in his colloquy with s. columba--"when i was a deer ... a salmon ... a seal ... a roving wolf ... a man."[ ] perhaps the complete story was that of a fabulous hero in human form, who assumed different shapes, and was finally reborn. but the transformation of an old man, or an old animal, into new youthful and vigorous forms might be regarded as a kind of transmigration--an extension of the transformation idea, but involving no metempsychosis, no passing of the soul into another body by rebirth. actual transmigration or rebirth occurs only at the end of the series, and, as in the case of etain, lug, etc., the pre-existent person is born of a woman after being swallowed by her. possibly the transformation belief has reacted on the other, and obscured a belief in actual metempsychosis as a result of the soul of an ancestor passing into a woman and being reborn as her next child. add to this that the soul is often thought of as a tiny animal, and we see how a _point d'appui_ for the more materialistic belief was afforded. the insect or worms of the rebirth stories may have been once forms of the soul. it is easy also to see how, a theory of conception by swallowing various objects being already in existence, it might be thought possible that eating a salmon--a transformed man--would cause his rebirth from the eater. the celts may have had no consistent belief on this subject, the general idea of the future life being of a different kind. or perhaps the various beliefs in transformation, transmigration, rebirth, and conception by unusual means, are too inextricably mingled to be separated. the nucleus of the tales seems to be the possibility of rebirth, and the belief that the soul was still clad in a bodily form after death and was itself a material thing. but otherwise some of them are not distinctively celtic, and have been influenced by old _märchen_ formulæ of successive changes adopted by or forced upon some person, who is finally reborn. this formulæ is already old in the fourteenth century b.c. egyptian story of the _two brothers_. such celtic stories as these may have been known to classical authors, and have influenced their statements regarding eschatology. yet it can hardly be said that the tales themselves bear witness to a general transmigration doctrine current among the celts, since the stories concern divine or heroic personages. still the belief may have had a certain currency among them, based on primitive theories of soul life. evidence that it existed side by side with the more general doctrines of the future life may be found in old or existing folk-belief. in some cases the dead have an animal form, as in the _voyage of maelduin_, where birds on an island are said to be souls, or in the legend of s. maelsuthain, whose pupils appear to him after death as birds.[ ] the bird form of the soul after death is still a current belief in the hebrides. butterflies in ireland, and moths in cornwall, and in france bats or butterflies, are believed to be souls of the dead.[ ] king arthur is thought by cornishmen to have died and to have been changed into the form of a raven, and in mediæval wales souls of the wicked appear as ravens, in brittany as black dogs, petrels, or hares, or serve their term of penitence as cows or bulls, or remain as crows till the day of judgment.[ ] unbaptized infants become birds; drowned sailors appear as beasts or birds; and the souls of girls deceived by lovers haunt them as hares.[ ] these show that the idea of transmigration may not have been foreign to the celtic mind, and it may have arisen from the idea that men assumed their totem animal's shape at death. some tales of shape-shifting are probably due to totemism, and it is to be noted that in kerry peasants will not eat hares because they contain the souls of their grandmothers.[ ] on the other hand, some of these survivals may mean no more than that the soul itself has already an animal form, in which it would naturally be seen after death. in celtic folk-belief the soul is seen leaving the body in sleep as a bee, butterfly, gnat, mouse, or mannikin.[ ] such a belief is found among most savage races, and might easily be mistaken for transmigration, or also assist the formation of the idea of transmigration. though the folk-survivals show that transmigration was not necessarily alleged of all the dead, it may have been a sufficiently vital belief to colour the mythology, as we see from the existing tales, adulterated though these may have been. the general belief has its roots in primitive ideas regarding life and its propagation--ideas which some hold to be un-celtic and un-aryan. but aryans were "primitive" at some period of their history, and it would be curious if, while still in a barbarous condition, they had forgotten their old beliefs. in any case, if they adopted similar beliefs from non-aryan people, this points to no great superiority on their part. such beliefs originated the idea of rebirth and transmigration.[ ] nevertheless this was not a characteristically celtic eschatological belief; that we find in the theory that the dead lived on in the body or assumed a body in another region, probably underground. footnotes: [ ] for textual details see zimmer, _zeit. für vergl. sprach._ xxviii. f. the tale is obviously archaic. for a translation see leahy, i. f. [ ] _it_ i. f.; d'arbois, v. . there is a suggestion in one of the versions of another story, in which setanta is child of conchobar and his sister dechtire. [ ] _it_ iii. ; _rc_ xv. ; nutt-meyer, ii. . [ ] stowe ms. , _rc_ vi. ; _it_ ii. ; d'arbois, v. f. [ ] _it_ iii. . cf. the story of the wife of cormac, who was barren till her mother gave her pottage. then she had a daughter (_rc_ xxii. ). [ ] nutt-meyer, i. f., text and translation. [ ] ibid. f. [ ] ibid. . the simultaneous birth formula occurs in many _märchen_, though that of the future wife is not common. [ ] nutt-meyer, i. , , , . [ ] _zcp_ ii. f. here mongan comes directly from elysium, as does oisin before meeting s. patrick. [ ] _it_ iii. ; o'grady, ii. . cf. rees, . [ ] guest, iii. f.; see p. , _supra_. [ ] in some of the tales the small animal still exists independently after the birth, but this is probably not their primitive form. [ ] see my _religion: its origin and forms_, - . [ ] skene, i. . after relating various shapes in which he has been, the poet adds that he has been a grain which a hen received, and that he rested in her womb as a child. the reference in this early poem from a fourteenth century ms. shows that the fusion of the _märchen_ formula with a myth of rebirth was already well known. see also guest, iii. , for verses in which the transformations during the combat are exaggerated. [ ] skene, i. , . [ ] miss hull, ; d'arbois, v. . [ ] for various forms of _geno_-, see holder, i. ; stokes, _us_ . [ ] for all these names see holder, _s.v._ [ ] s. aug. _de civ. dei_, xv. ; isidore, _orat._ viii. . . _dusios_ may be connected with lithuanian _dvaese_, "spirit," and perhaps with [greek: thehos] (holder, _s.v._). d'arbois sees in the _dusii_ water-spirits, and compares river-names like dhuys, duseva, dusius (vi. ; _rc_ xix. ). the word may be connected with irish _duis_, glossed "noble" (stokes, _tig_ ). the bretons still believe in fairies called _duz_, and our word _dizzy_ may be connected with _dusios_, and would then have once signified the madness following on the _amour_, like greek [greek: nympholeptos], or "the inconvenience of their succubi," described by kirk in his _secret commonwealth of the elves_. [ ] _ll_ _b_; _tos_ v. . [ ] rh[^y]s, _hl_ . [ ] skene, i. , , etc. [ ] sigerson, _bards of the gael_, . [ ] miss hull, ; hyde, _lit. hist. of ireland_, . [ ] _rc_ xxvi. . [ ] skene, ii. . [ ] d'arbois, ii. , where he also derives erigena's pantheism from celtic beliefs, such as he supposes to be exemplified by these poems. [ ] _lu_ _a_; d'arbois, ii. f.; nutt-meyer, ii. f. [ ] another method of accounting for this knowledge was to imagine a long-lived personage like fintan who survived for years. d'arbois, ii. ch. . here there was no transformation or rebirth. [ ] nutt-meyer, i. ; _zcp_ ii. . [ ] o'curry, _ms. mat._ . [ ] wood-martin, _pagan ireland_, ; _choice notes_, ; monnier, ; maury, . [ ] _choice notes_, ; rees, ; le braz{ }, ii. , , ; _rev. des trad. pop._ xii. . [ ] le braz{ }, ii. ; _folk-lore jour._ v. . [ ] _folk-lore_, iv. . [ ] carmichael, _carm. gadel._ ii. ; rh[^y]s, _cfl_ ; le braz{ }, i. , , . [ ] mr. nutt, _voyage of bran_, derived the origin of the rebirth conception from orgiastic cults. chapter xxiv. elysium. the celtic conception of elysium, the product at once of religion, mythology, and romantic imagination, is found in a series of irish and welsh tales. we do not know that a similar conception existed among the continental celts, but, considering the likeness of their beliefs in other matters to those of the insular celts, there is a strong probability that it did. there are four typical presentations of the elysium conception. in ireland, while the gods were believed to have retired within the hills or _síd_, it is not unlikely that some of them had always been supposed to live in these or in a subterranean world, and it is therefore possible that what may be called the subterranean or _síd_ type of elysium is old. but other types also appear--that of a western island elysium, of a world below the waters, and of a world co-extensive with this and entered by a mist. the names of the irish elysium are sometimes of a general character--mag mór, "the great plain"; mag mell, "the pleasant plain"; tír n'aill, "the other-world"; tir na m-beo, "the land of the living"; tír na n-og, "the land of youth"; and tír tairngiri, "the land of promise"--possibly of christian origin. local names are tír fa tonn, "land under waves"; i-bresail and the land of falga, names of the island elysium. the last denotes the isle of man as elysium, and it may have been so regarded by goidels in britain at an early time.[ ] to this period may belong the tales of cúchulainn's raid on falga, carried at a later time to ireland. tír tairngiri is also identified with the isle of man.[ ] a brief résumé of the principal elysium tales is necessary as a preliminary to a discussion of the problems which they involve, though it can give but little idea of the beauty and romanticism of the tales themselves. these, if not actually composed in pagan times, are based upon story-germs current before the coming of christianity to ireland. . _the síd elysium._--in the story of etain, when mider discovered her in her rebirth, he described the land whither he would carry her, its music and its fair people, its warm streams, its choice mead and wine. there is eternal youth, and love is blameless. it is within mider's _síd_, and etain accompanies him there. in the sequel king eochaid's druid discovers the _síd_, which is captured by the king, who then regains etain.[ ] other tales refer to the _síd_ in similar terms, and describe its treasures, its food and drink better than those of earth. it is in most respects similar to the island elysium, save that it is localised on earth. . _the island elysium._--the story of the voyage of bran is found fragmentarily in the eleventh century _lu_, and complete in the fourteenth and sixteenth century mss. it tells how bran heard mysterious music when asleep. on waking he found a silver branch with blossoms, and next day there appeared a mysterious woman singing the glory of the land overseas, its music, its wonderful tree, its freedom from pain and death. it is one of thrice fifty islands to the west of erin, and there she dwells with thousands of "motley women." before she disappears the branch leaps into her hand. bran set sail with his comrades and met manannan crossing the sea in his chariot. the god told him that the sea was a flowery plain, mag mell, and that all around, unseen to bran, were people playing and drinking "without sin." he bade him sail on to the land of women. then the voyagers went on and reached the isle of joy, where one of their number remained behind. at last they came to the land of women, and we hear of their welcome, the dreamlike lapse of time, the food and drink which had for each the taste he desired. finally the tale recounts their home-sickness, the warning they received not to set foot on erin, how one of their number leaped ashore and turned to ashes, how bran from his boat told of his wanderings and then disappeared for ever.[ ] another story tells how connla was visited by a goddess from mag mell. her people dwell in a _síd_ and are called "men of the _síd_." she invites him to go to the immortal land, and departs, leaving him an apple, which supports him for a month without growing less. then she reappears and tells connla that "the ever-living ones" desire him to join them. she bids him come with her to the land of joy where there are only women. he steps into her crystal boat and vanishes from his father and the druid who has vainly tried to exercise his spells against her.[ ] in this tale there is a confusion between the _síd_ and the island elysium. the eighteenth century poem of oisin in tír na n-og is probably based on old legends, and describes how niam, daughter of the king of tír na n-og, placed _geasa_ on oisin to accompany her to that land of immortal youth and beauty. he mounted on her steed, which plunged forwards across the sea, and brought them to the land where oisin spent three hundred years before returning to ireland, and there suffering, as has been seen, from the breaking of the tabu not to set foot on the soil of erin.[ ] in _serglige conculaind_, "cúchulainn's sickness," the goddess fand, deserted by manannan, offers herself to the hero if he will help her sister's husband labraid against his enemies in mag mell. labraid lives in an island frequented by troops of women, and possessing an inexhaustible vat of mead and trees with magic fruit. it is reached with marvellous speed in a boat of bronze. after a preliminary visit by his charioteer laeg, cúchulainn goes thither, vanquishes labraid's foes, and remains a month with fand. he returns to ireland, and now we hear of the struggle for him between his wife emer and fand. but manannan suddenly appears, reawakens fand's love, and she departs with him. the god shakes his cloak between her and cúchulainn to prevent their ever meeting again.[ ] in this story labraid, fand, and liban, fand's sister, though dwellers on an island elysium, are called _síd_-folk. the two regions are partially confused, but not wholly, since manannan is described as coming from his own land (elysium) to woo fand. apparently labraid of the swift hand on the sword (who, though called "chief of the _síde_", is certainly a war-god) is at enmity with manannan's hosts, and it is these with whom cúchulainn has to fight.[ ] in an ossianic tale several of the fians were carried off to the land of promise. after many adventures, fionn, diarmaid, and others discover them, and threaten to destroy the land if they are not restored. its king, avarta, agrees to the restoration, and with fifteen of his men carries the fians to erin on one horse. having reached there, he bids them look at a certain field, and while they are doing so, he and his men disappear.[ ] . _land under waves._--fiachna, of the men of the _síd_, appeared to the men of connaught, and begged their help against goll, who had abducted his wife. loegaire and his men dive with fiachna into loch naneane, and reach a wonderful land, with marvellous music and where the rain is ale. they and the _síd_-folk attack the fort of mag mell and defeat goll. each then obtains a woman of the _síde_, but at the end of a year they become homesick. they are warned not to descend from horseback in erin. arrived among their own people, they describe the marvels of tír fa tonn, and then return there, and are no more seen.[ ] here, again, the _síd_ elysium and land under waves are confused, and the divine tribes are at war, as in the story of cúchulainn. in a section of the ossianic tale just cited, fionn and his men arrive on an island, where diarmaid reaches a beautiful country at the bottom of a well. this is tír fa tonn, and diarmaid fights its king who has usurped his nephew's inheritance, and thus recovers it for him.[ ] . _co-extensive with this world._--an early example of this type is found in the _adventures of cormac_. a divine visitant appeared to cormac and gave him in exchange for his wife, son, and daughter, his branch of golden apples, which when shaken produced sweetest music, dispelling sorrow. after a year cormac set out to seek his family, and as he journeyed encountered a mist in which he discovered a strange house. its master and mistress--manannan and his consort--offered him shelter. the god brought in a pig, every quarter of which was cooked in the telling of a true tale, the pig afterwards coming to life again. cormac, in his tale, described how he had lost his family, whereupon manannan made him sleep, and brought his wife and children in. later he produced a cup which broke when a lie was told, but became whole again when a true word was spoken. the god said cormac's wife had now a new husband, and the cup broke, but was restored when the goddess declared this to be a lie. next morning all had disappeared, and cormac and his family found themselves in his own palace, with cup and branch by their side.[ ] similarly, in _the champion's ecstasy_, a mysterious horseman appears out of a mist to conn and leads him to a palace, where he reveals himself as the god lug, and where there is a woman called "the sovereignty of erin." beside the palace is a golden tree.[ ] in the story of bran, mag mell is said to be all around the hero, though he knows it not--an analogous conception to what is found in these tales, and another instance is that of the mysterious house entered by conchobar and dechtire.[ ] mag mell may thus have been regarded as a mysterious district of erin. this magic mist enclosing a marvellous dwelling occurs in many other tales, and it was in a mist that the tuatha déa came to ireland. a certain correspondence to these irish beliefs is found in brythonic story, but here the elysium conception has been influenced by christian ideas. elysium is called _annwfn_, meaning "an abyss," "the state of the dead," "hell," and it is also conceived of as _is elfydd_, "beneath the earth."[ ] but in the tales it bears no likeness to these meanings of the word, save in so far as it has been confused by their christian redactors with hell. it is a region on the earth's surface or an over-or under-sea world, in which some of the characteristics of the irish elysium are found--a cauldron, a well of drink sweeter than wine, and animals greatly desired by mortals, while it is of great beauty and its people are not subject to death or disease. hence the name _annwfn_ has probably taken the place of some earlier pagan title of elysium. in the tale of pwyll, the earliest reference to _annwfn_ occurs. it is ruled by arawn, at war with hafgan. arawn obtains the help of pwyll by exchanging kingdoms with him for a year, and pwyll defeats hafgan. it is a beautiful land, where merriment and feasting go on continuously, and its queen is of great loveliness. it has no subterranean character, and is conceived apparently as contiguous to pwyll's kingdom.[ ] in other tales it is the land whence gwydion and others obtain various animals.[ ] the later folk-conception of the demoniac dogs of annwfn may be based on an old myth of dogs with which its king hunted. these are referred to in the story of pwyll.[ ] _annwfn_ is also the name of a land under waves or over sea, called also _caer sidi_, "the revolving castle," about which "are ocean's streams." it is "known to manawyddan and pryderi," just as the irish elysium was ruled by manannan.[ ] another "caer of defence" is beneath the waves.[ ] perhaps the two ideas were interchangeable. the people of this land are free from death and disease, and in it is "an abundant well, sweeter than white wine the drink in it." there also is a cauldron belonging to the lord of annwfn, which was stolen by arthur and his men. such a cauldron is the property of people belonging to a water world in the _mabinogion_.[ ] the description of the isle of avallon (later identified with glastonbury), whither arthur was carried, completes the likeness to the irish elysium. no tempest, excess of heat or cold, nor noxious animal afflicts it; it is blessed with eternal spring and with fruit and flowers growing without labour; it is the land of eternal youth, unvisited by death or disease. it has a _regia virgo_ lovelier than her lovely attendants; she cured arthur of his wounds, hence she is the morgen of other tales, and she and her maidens may be identified with the divine women of the irish isle of women. morgen is called a _dea phantastica_, and she may be compared with liban, who cured cúchulainn of his sickness.[ ] the identification of avallon with glastonbury is probably post-pagan, and the names applied to glastonbury--avallon, _insula pomonum_, _insula vitrea_--may be primitive names of elysium. william of malmesbury derives _insula pomonum_ in its application to glastonbury from a native name _insula avallonioe_, which he connects with the brythonic _avalla_, "apples," because glastenig found an apple tree there.[ ] the name may thus have been connected with marvellous apple trees, like those of the irish elysium. but he also suggests that it may be derived from the name of avalloc, living there with his daughters. avalloc is evidently the "rex avallon" (avallach) to whose palace arthur was carried and healed by the _regia virgo_.[ ] he may therefore have been a mythic lord of elysium, and his daughters would correspond to the maidens of the isle. william also derives "glastonbury" from the name of an eponymous founder glastenig, or from its native name _ynesuuitron_, "glass island." this name reappears in chretien's _eric_ in the form "l'isle de verre." giraldus explains the name from the glassy waters around glastonbury, but it may be an early name of elysium.[ ] glass must have appealed to the imagination of celt, teuton, and slav, for we hear of merlin's glass house, a glass fort discovered by arthur, a glass tower attacked by the milesians, etain's glass _grianan_, and a boat of glass which conveyed connla to elysium. in teutonic and slavonic myth and _märchen_, glass mountains, on which dwell mysterious personages, frequently occur. the origin of the celtic elysium belief may be found in universal myths of a golden age long ago in some distant elysian region, where men had lived with the gods. into that region brave mortals might still penetrate, though it was lost to mankind as a whole. in some mythologies this elysium is the land whither men go after death. possibly the celtic myth of man's early intercourse with the gods in a lost region took two forms. in one it was a joyful subterranean region whither the celt hoped to go after death. in the other it was not recoverable, nor was it the land of the dead, but favoured mortals might reach it in life. the celtic elysium belief, as known through the tales just cited, is always of this second kind. we surmise, however, that the land of the dead was a joyous underworld ruled over by a god of fertility and of the dead, and from that region men had originally come forth. the later association of gods with the _síd_ was a continuation of this belief, but now the _síd_ are certainly not a land of the dead, but elysium pure and simple. there must therefore have been at an early period a tendency to distinguish between the happy region of the dead, and the distant elysium, if the two were ever really connected. the subject is obscure, but it is not impossible that another origin of the elysium idea may be found in the phenomenon of the setting sun: it suggested to the continental celts that far off there was a divine land where the sun-god rested. when the celts reached the coast this divine western land would necessarily be located in a far-off island, seen perhaps on the horizon. hence it would also be regarded as connected with the sea-god, manannan, or by whatsoever name he was called. the distant elysium, whether on land or across the sea, was conceived in identical terms, and hence also whenever the hollow hills or _síd_ were regarded as an abode of the gods, they also were described just as elysium was. the idea of a world under the waters is common to many mythologies, and, generally speaking, it originated in the animistic belief that every part of nature has its indwelling spirits. hence the spirits or gods of the waters were thought of as dwelling below the waters. tales of supernatural beings appearing out of the waters, the custom of throwing offerings therein, the belief that human beings were carried below the surface or could live in the region beneath the waves, are all connected with this animistic idea. among the celts this water-world assumed many aspects of elysium, and it has names in common with it, e.g. it is called mag mell. hence in many popular tales it is hardly differentiated from the island elysium; oversea and under-waves are often synonymous. hence, too, the belief that such water-worlds as i-bresail, or welsh fairy-lands, or sunken cities off the breton coast, rise periodically to the surface, and would remain there permanently, like an island elysium, if some mortal would fulfil certain conditions.[ ] the celtic belief in tír fa tonn is closely connected with the current belief in submerged towns or lands, found in greatest detail on the breton coast. here there are many such legends, but most prominent are those which tell how the town of is was submerged because of the wickedness of its people, or of dahut, its king's daughter, who sometimes still seeks the love of mortals. it is occasionally seen below the waves or even on their surface.[ ] elsewhere in celtic regions similar legends are found, and the submersion is the result of a curse, of the breaking of a tabu, or of neglect to cover a sacred well.[ ] probably the tradition of actual cataclysms or inroads of the sea, such as the celts encountered on the coasts of holland, may account for some of these legends, which then mingled with myths of the divine water-world. the idea that elysium is co-extensive with this world and hidden in a mist is perhaps connected with the belief in the magical powers of the gods. as the druids could raise a mist at will, so too might the gods, who then created a temporary elysium in it. from such a mist, usually on a hill, supernatural beings often emerged to meet mortals, and in _märchen_ fairyland is sometimes found within a mist.[ ] it was already believed that part of the gods' land was not far off; it was invisibly on or within the hills on whose slopes men saw the mist swirling mysteriously. hence the mist may simply have concealed the _síd_ of the gods. but there may also have been a belief that this world was actually interpenetrated by the divine world, for this is believed of fairyland in welsh and irish folk-lore. men may unwittingly interfere with it, or have it suddenly revealed to them, or be carried into it and made invisible.[ ] in most of the tales elysium is a land without grief or death, where there is immortal youth and peace, and every kind of delight. but in some, while the sensuous delights are still the same, the inhabitants are at war, invite the aid of mortals to overcome their foes, and are even slain in fight. still in both groups elysium is a land of gods and supernatural folk whither mortals are invited by favour. it is never the world of the dead; its people are not mortals who have died and gone thither. the two conceptions of elysium as a land of peace and deathlessness, and as a land where war and death may occur, may both be primitive. the latter may have been formed by reflecting back on the divine world the actions of the world of mortals, and it would also be on a parallel with the conception of the world of the dead where warriors perhaps still fought, since they were buried with their weapons. there were also myths of gods warring with each other. but men may also have felt that the gods were not as themselves, that their land must be one of peace and deathlessness. hence the idea of the peaceful elysium, which perhaps found most favour with the people. mr. nutt thought that the idea of a warlike elysium may have resulted from scandinavian influence acting on existing tales of a peaceful elysium,[ ] but we know that old myths of divine wars already existed. perhaps this conception arose among the celts as a warlike people, appealing to their warrior instincts, while the peaceful elysium may have been the product of the celts as an agricultural folk, for we have seen that the celt was now a fighter, now a farmer. in its peaceful aspect elysium is "a familiar, cultivated land," where the fruits of the earth are produced without labour, and where there are no storms or excess of heat or cold--the fancies which would appeal to a toiling, agricultural people. there food is produced magically, yet naturally, and in agricultural ritual men sought to increase their food supply magically. in the tales this process is, so to speak, heightened.[ ] some writers have maintained that elysium is simply the land of the dead, although nothing in the existing tales justifies this interpretation. m. d'arbois argues for this view, resting his theory mainly on a passage in the story of connla, interpreted by him in a way which does not give its real meaning.[ ] the words are spoken by the goddess to connla, and their sense is--"the ever-living ones invite thee. thou art a champion to tethra's people. they see thee every day in the assemblies of thy fatherland, among thy familiar loved ones."[ ] m. d'arbois assumes that tethra, a fomorian, is lord of elysium, and that after his defeat by the tuatha déa, he, like kronos, took refuge there, and now reigns as lord of the dead. by translating _ar-dot-chiat_ ("they see thee," rd plur., pres. ind.) as "on t'y verra," he maintains that connla, by going to elysium, will be seen among the gatherings of his dead kinsfolk. but the words, "thou art a champion to tethra's people," cannot be made to mean that tethra is a god of the dead. it means simply that connla is a mighty warrior, one of those whom tethra, a war-god, would have approved. the phrase, "tethra's mighty men," used elsewhere,[ ] is a conventional one for warriors. the rest of the goddess's words imply that the immortals from afar, or perhaps "tethra's mighty men," i.e. warriors in this world, see connla in the assemblies of his fatherland in erin, among his familiar friends. dread death awaits _them_, she has just said, but the immortals desire connla to escape that by coming to elysium. her words do not imply that he will meet his dead ancestors there, nor is she in any sense a goddess of death. if the dead went to elysium, there would be little need for inviting a living person to go there. had connla's dead ancestors or tethra's people (warriors) been in elysium, this would contradict the picture drawn by the goddess of the land whither she desires him to go--a land of women, not of men. moreover, the rulers of elysium are always members of the tuatha dé danann or the _síd_-folk, never a fomorian like tethra.[ ] m. d'arbois also assumes that "spain" in nennius' account of the irish invasions and in irish texts means the land of the dead, and that it was introduced in place of some such title as mag mór or mag mell by "the euhemerising process of the irish christians." but in other documents penned by irish christians these and other pagan titles of elysium remain unchanged. nor is there the slightest proof that the words used by tuan maccaraill about the invaders of ireland, "they all died," were rendered in an original text, now lost according to m. d'arbois, "they set sail for mag mór or mag mell," a formula in which nennius saw indications of a return to spain.[ ] spain, in this hypothetical text, was the land of the dead or elysium, whence the invaders came. this "lost original" exists in m. d'arbois imagination, and there is not the slightest evidence for these alterations. once, indeed, tailtiu is called daughter of magh mór, king of spain, but here a person, not a place, is spoken of.[ ] sir john rh[^y]s accepts the identification of spain with elysium as the land of the dead, and finds in every reference to spain a reference to the other-world, which he regards as a region ruled by "dark divinities." but neither the lords of elysium nor the celtic dispater were dark or gloomy deities, and the land of the dead was certainly not a land of darkness any more than elysium. the numerous references to spain probably point to old traditions regarding a connection between spain and ireland in early times, both commercial and social, and it is not impossible that goidelic invaders did reach ireland from spain.[ ] early maps and geographers make ireland and spain contiguous; hence in an irish tale ireland is visible from spain, and this geographical error would strengthen existing traditions.[ ] "spain" was used vaguely, but it does not appear to have meant elysium or the land of the dead. if it did, it is strange that the tuatha dé danann are never brought into connection with it. one of the most marked characteristics of the celtic elysium is its deathlessness. it is "the land of the living" or of "the ever-living ones," and of eternal youth. most primitive races believe that death is an accident befalling men who are naturally immortal; hence freedom from such an accident naturally characterises the people of the divine land. but, as in other mythologies, that immortality is more or less dependent on the eating or drinking of some food or drink of immortality. manannan had immortal swine, which, killed one day, came alive next day, and with their flesh he made the tuatha dé danann immortal. immortality was also conferred by the drinking of goibniu's ale, which, either by itself or with the flesh of swine, formed his immortal feast. the food of elysium was inexhaustible, and whoever ate it found it to possess that taste which he preferred. the fruit of certain trees in elysium was also believed to confer immortality and other qualities. laeg saw one hundred and fifty trees growing in mag mell; their nuts fed three hundred people. the apple given by the goddess to connla was inexhaustible, and he was still eating it with her when teigue, son of cian, visited elysium. "when once they had partaken of it, nor age nor dimness could affect them."[ ] apples, crimson nuts, and rowan berries are specifically said to be the food of the gods in the tale of _diarmaid and grainne_. through carelessness one of the berries was dropped on earth, and from it grew a tree, the berries of which had the effect of wine or mead, and three of them eaten by a man of a hundred years made him youthful. it was guarded by a giant.[ ] a similar tree growing on earth--a rowan guarded by a dragon, is found in the tale of fraoch, who was bidden to bring a branch of it to ailill. its berries had the virtue of nine meals; they healed the wounded, and added a year to a man's life.[ ] at the wells which were the source of irish rivers were supposed to grow hazel-trees with crimson nuts, which fell into the water and were eaten by salmon.[ ] if these were caught and eaten, the eater obtained wisdom and knowledge. these wells were in erin, but in some instances the well with its hazels and salmon is in the other-world,[ ] and it is obvious that the crimson nuts are the same as the food of the gods in _diarmaid and grainne_. why should immortality be dependent on the eating of certain foods? most of man's irrational ideas have some reason in them, and probably man's knowledge that without food life would come to an end, joined to his idea of deathlessness, led him to believe that there was a certain food which produced immortality just as ordinary food supported life. on it gods and deathless beings were fed. similarly, as water cleansed and invigorated, it was thought that some special kind of water had these powers in a marvellous degree. hence arose the tales of the fountain of youth and the belief in healing wells. from the knowledge of the nourishing power of food, sprang the idea that some food conferred the qualities inherent in it, e.g. the flesh of divine animals eaten sacramentally, and that gods obtained their immortality from eating or drinking. this idea is widespread. the babylonian gods had food and water of life; egyptian myth spoke of the bread and beer of eternity which nourished the gods; the hindus and iranians knew of the divine _soma_ or _haoma_; and in scandinavian myth the gods renewed their youth by tasting iduna's golden apples. in celtic elysium tales, the fruit of a tree is most usually the food of immortality. the fruit never diminishes and always satisfies, and it is the food of the gods. when eaten by mortals it confers immortality upon them; in other words, it makes them of like nature to the gods, and this is doubtless derived from the widespread idea that the eating of food given by a stranger makes a man of one kin with him. hence to eat the food of gods, fairies, or of the dead, binds the mortal to them and he cannot leave their land. this might be illustrated from a wide range of myth and folk-belief. when connla ate the apple he at once desired to go to elysium, and he could not leave it once he was there; he had become akin to its people. in the stories of bran and oisin, they are not said to have eaten such fruit, but the primitive form of the tales may have contained this incident, and this would explain why they could not set foot on earth unscathed, and why bran and his followers, or, in the tale of fiachna, loegaire and his men who had drunk the ale of elysium, returned thither. in other tales, it is true, those who eat food in elysium can return to earth--cormac and cúchulainn; but had we the primitive form of these tales we should probably find that they had refrained from eating. the incident of the fruit given by an immortal to a mortal may have borrowed something from the wide folk-custom of the presentation of an apple as a gage of love or as a part of the marriage rite.[ ] its acceptance denotes willingness to enter upon betrothal or marriage. but as in the roman rite of _confarreatio_ with its savage parallels, the underlying idea is probably that which has just been considered, namely, that the giving and acceptance of food produces the bond of kinship. as various nuts and fruits were prized in ireland as food, and were perhaps used in some cases to produce an intoxicant,[ ] it is evident that the trees of elysium were, primarily, a magnified form of earthly trees. but all such trees were doubtless objects of a cult before their produce was generally eaten; they were first sacred or totem-trees, and their food eaten only occasionally and sacramentally. if so, this would explain why they grew in elysium and their fruit was the food of the gods. for whatever man eats or drinks is generally supposed to have been first eaten and drunk by the gods, like the _soma_. but, growing in elysium, these trees, like the trees of most myths of elysium, are far more marvellous than any known on earth. they have branches of silver and golden apples; they have magical supplies of fruit, they produce wonderful music which sometimes causes sleep or oblivion; and birds perch in their branches and warble melody "such that the sick would sleep to it." it should be noted also that, as miss hull points out, in some tales the branch of a divine tree becomes a talisman leading the mortal to elysium; in this resembling the golden bough plucked by Æneas before visiting the underworld.[ ] this, however, is not the fundamental characteristic of the tree, in irish story. possibly, as mr. a.b. cook maintains, the branch giving entrance to elysium is derived from the branch borne by early celtic kings of the wood, while the tree is an imaginative form of those which incarnated a vegetation spirit.[ ] be this as it may, it is rather the fruit eaten by the mortal which binds him to the immortal land. the inhabitants of elysium are not only immortal, but also invisible at will. they make themselves visible to one person only out of many present with him. connla alone sees the goddess, invisible to his father and the druid. mananuan is visible to bran, but there are many near the hero whom he does not see; and when the same god comes to fand, he is invisible to cúchulainn and those with him. so mider says to etain, "we behold, and are not beheld."[ ] occasionally, too, the people of elysium have the power of shape-shifting--fand and liban appear to cúchulainn as birds. the hazel of knowledge connects wisdom with the gods' world, and in celtic belief generally civilisation and culture were supposed to have come from the gods. the things of their land were coveted by men, and often stolen thence by them. in welsh and irish tales, often with reference to the other-world, a magical cauldron has a prominent place. dagda possessed such a cauldron and it was inexhaustible, and a vat of inexhaustible mead is described in the story of _cúchulain's sickness_. whatever was put into such cauldrons satisfied all, no matter how numerous they might be.[ ] cúchulainn obtained one from the daughter of the king of scath, and also carried off the king's three cows.[ ] in an analogous story, he stole from cúroi, by the connivance of his wife bláthnat, her father mider's cauldron, three cows, and the woman herself. but in another version cúchulainn and cúroi go to mider's stronghold in the isle of falga (elysium), and steal cauldron, cows, and bláthnat. these were taken from cúchulainn by cúroi; hence his revenge as in the previous tale.[ ] thus the theft was from elysium. in the welsh poem "the spoils of annwfn," arthur stole a cauldron from annwfn. its rim was encrusted with pearls, voices issued from it, it was kept boiling by the breath of nine maidens, and it would not boil a coward's food.[ ] as has been seen from the story of gwion, he was set to watch a cauldron which must boil until it yielded "three drops of the grace of inspiration." it belonged to tegid voel and cerridwen, divine rulers of a land under the waters.[ ] in the _mabinogi_ of branwen, her brother bran received a cauldron from two beings, a man and a huge woman, who came from a lake. this cauldron was given by him to the king of erin, and it had the property of restoring to life the slain who were placed in it.[ ] the three properties of the cauldron--inexhaustibility, inspiration, and regeneration--may be summed up in one word, fertility; and it is significant that the god with whom such a cauldron was associated, dagda, was a god of fertility. but we have just seen it associated, directly or indirectly, with goddesses--cerridwen, branwen, the woman from the lake--and perhaps this may point to an earlier cult of goddesses of fertility, later transferred to gods. in this light the cauldron's power of restoring to life is significant, since in early belief life is associated with what is feminine. woman as the fruitful mother suggested that the earth, which produced and nourished, was also female. hence arose the cult of the earth-mother who was often also a goddess of love as well as of fertility. cerridwen, in all probability, was a goddess of fertility, and branwen a goddess of love.[ ] the cult of fertility was usually associated with orgiastic and indiscriminate love-making, and it is not impossible that the cauldron, like the hindu _yoni_, was a symbol of fertility.[ ] again, the slaughter and cooking of animals was usually regarded as a sacred act in primitive life. the animals were cooked in enormous cauldrons, which were found as an invariable part of the furniture of every celtic house.[ ] the quantities of meat which they contained may have suggested inexhaustibility to people to whom the cauldron was already a symbol of fertility. thus the symbolic cauldron of a fertility cult was merged with the cauldron used in the religious slaughter and cooking of animal food. the cauldron was also used in ritual. the cimri slaughtered human victims over a cauldron and filled it with their blood; victims sacrificed to teutates were suffocated in a vat (_semicupium_); and in ireland "a cauldron of truth" was used in the ordeal of boiling water.[ ] like the food of men which was regarded as the food of the gods, the cauldron of this world became the marvellous cauldron of the other-world, and as it then became necessary to explain the origin of such cauldrons on earth, myths arose, telling how they had been stolen from the divine land by adventurous heroes, cúchulainn, arthur, etc. in other instances, the cauldron is replaced by a magic vessel or cup stolen from supernatural beings by heroes of the fionn saga or of _märchen_.[ ] here, too, it may be noted that the graal of arthurian romance has affinities with the celtic cauldron. in the _conte du graal_ of pseudo-chrétien, a cup comes in of itself and serves all present with food. this is a simple conception of the graal, but in other poems its magical and sacrosanct character is heightened. it supplies the food which the eater prefers, it gives immortal youth and immunity from wounds. in these respects it presents an unmistakable likeness to the cauldron of celtic myth. but, again, it was the vessel in which christ had instituted the blessed sacrament; it contained his blood; and it had been given by our lord to joseph of arimathea. thus in the graal there was a fusion of the magic cauldron of celtic paganism and the sacred chalice of christianity, with the product made mystic and glorious in a most wonderful manner. the story of the graal became immensely popular, and, deepening in ethical, mystical, and romantic import as time went on, was taken up by one poet after another, who "used it as a type of the loftiest goal of man's effort."[ ] in other ways myth told how the gifts of civilisation came from the gods' world. when man came to domesticate animals, it was believed in course of time that the knowledge of domestication or, more usually, the animals themselves had come from the gods, only, in this case, the animals were of a magical, supernatural kind. such a belief underlies the stories in which cúchulainn steals cows from their divine owners. in other instances, heroes who obtain a wife from the _síd_-folk, obtain also cattle from the _síd_.[ ] as has been seen the swine given to pryderi by arawn, king of annwfn, and hitherto unknown to man, are stolen from him by gwydion, pryderi being son of pwyll, a temporary king of annwfn, and in all probability both were lords of elysium. the theft, in the original form of the myth, must thus have been from elysium, though we have a hint in "the spoils of annwfn" that gwydion (gweir) was unsuccessful and was imprisoned in annwfn, to which imprisonment the later blending of annwfn with hell gave a doleful aspect.[ ] in a late welsh ms., a white roebuck and a puppy (or, in the _triads_, a bitch, a roebuck, and a lapwing) were stolen by amæthon from annwfn, and the story presents archaic features.[ ] in some of these tales the animals are transferred to earth by a divine or semi-divine being, in whom we may see an early celtic culture-hero. the tales are attenuated forms of older myths which showed how all domestic animals were at first the property of the gods, and an echo of these is still heard in _märchen_ describing the theft of cattle from fairyland. in the most primitive form of the tales the theft was doubtless from the underworld of gods of fertility, the place whither the dead went. but with the rise of myths telling of a distant elysium, it was inevitable that some tales should connect the animals and the theft with that far-off land. so far as the irish and welsh tales are concerned, the thefts seem mainly to be from elysium.[ ] love-making has a large place in the elysium tales. goddesses seek the love of mortals, and the mortal desires to visit elysium because of their enticements. but the love-making of elysium is "without sin, without crime," and this phrase may perhaps suggest the existence of ritual sex-unions at stated times for magical influence upon the fertility of the earth, these unions not being regarded as immoral, even when they trespassed on customary tribal law. in some of the stories elysium is composed of many islands, one of which is the "island of women."[ ] these women and their queen give their favours to bran and his men or to maelduin and his company. similar "islands of women" occur in _märchen_, still current among celtic peoples, and actual islands were or still are called by that name--eigg and groagez off the breton coast.[ ] similar islands of women are known to chinese, japanese, and ainu folk-lore, to greek mythology (circe's and calypso's islands), and to ancient egyptian conceptions of the future life.[ ] they were also known elsewhere,[ ] and we may therefore assume that in describing such an island as part of elysium, the celts were using something common to universal folk-belief. but it may also owe something to actual custom, to the memory of a time when women performed their rites in seclusion, a seclusion perhaps recalled in the references to the mysterious nature of the island, its inaccessibility, and its disappearance once the mortal leaves it. to these rites men may have been admitted by favour, but perhaps to their detriment, because of their temporary partner's extreme erotic madness. this is the case in the chinese tales of the island of women, and this, rather than home-sickness, may explain the desire of bran, oisin, etc., to leave elysium. celtic women performed orgiastic rites on islands, as has been seen.[ ] all this may have originated the belief in an island of beautiful divine women as part of elysium, while it also heightened its sensuous aspect. borrowed from the delight which the celt took in music is the recurring reference to the marvellous music which swelled in elysium. there, as the goddess says to bran, "there is nothing rough or harsh, but sweet music striking on the ear." it sounded from birds on every tree, from the branches of trees, from marvellous stones, and from the harps of divine musicians. and this is recalled in the ravishing music which the belated traveller hears as he passes fairy-haunted spots--"what pipes and timbrels, what wild ecstasy!" the romantic beauty of elysium is described in these celtic tales in a way unequalled in all other sagas or _märchen_, and it is insisted on by those who come to lure mortals there. the beauty of its landscapes--hills, white cliffs, valleys, sea and shore, lakes and rivers,--of its trees, its inhabitants, and its birds,--the charm of its summer haze, is obviously the product of the imagination of a people keenly alive to natural beauty. the opening lines sung by the goddess to bran strike a note which sounds through all celtic literature: "there is a distant isle, around which sea-horses glisten, ... a beauty of a wondrous land, whose aspects are lovely, whose view is a fair country, incomparable in its haze. it is a day of lasting weather, that showers silver on the land; a pure white cliff on the range of the sea, which from the sun receives its heat." so oisin describes it: "i saw a country all green and full of flowers, with beautiful smooth plains, blue hills, and lakes and waterfalls." all this and more than this is the reflection of nature as it is found in celtic regions, and as it was seen by the eye of celtic dreamers, and interpreted to a poetic race by them. in irish accounts of the _síd_, dagda has the supremacy, wrested later from him by oengus, but generally each owner of a _síd_ is its lord. in welsh tradition arawn is lord of annwfn, but his claims are contested by a rival, and other lords of elysium are known. manannan, a god of the sea, appears to be lord of the irish island elysium which is called "the land of manannan," perhaps because it was easy to associate an oversea world "around which sea-horses glisten" with a god whose mythic steeds were the waves. but as it lay towards the sunset, and as some of its aspects may have been suggested by the glories of the setting sun, the sun-god lug was also associated with it, though he hardly takes the place of manannan. most of the aspects of elysium appear unchanged in later folk-belief, but it has now become fairyland--a place within hills, mounds, or _síd_, of marvellous beauty, with magic properties, and where time lapses as in a dream. a wonderful oversea land is also found in _märchen_ and tradition, and tír na n-og is still a living reality to the celt. there is the fountain of youth, healing balsams, life-giving fruits, beautiful women or fairy folk. it is the true land of heart's desire. in the eleventh century mss. from which our knowledge of elysium is mainly drawn, but which imply a remote antiquity for the materials and ideas of the tales, the _síd_-world is still the world of divine beings, though these are beginning to assume the traits of fairies. probably among the people themselves the change had already begun to be made, and the land of the gods was simply fairyland. in wales the same change had taken place, as is seen by giraldus' account of elidurus enticed to a subterranean fairyland by two small people.[ ] some of the elysium tales have been influenced by christian conceptions, and in a certain group, the _imrama_ or "voyages," elysium finally becomes the christian paradise or heaven. but the elysium conception also reacted on christian ideas of paradise. in the _voyage of maelduin_, which bears some resemblance to the story of bran, the christian influence is still indefinite, but it is more marked in the _voyage of snedgus and macriagla_. one island has become a kind of intermediate state, where dwell enoch and elijah, and many others waiting for the day of judgment. another island resembles the christian heaven. but in the _voyage of brandan_ the pagan elements have practically disappeared; there is an island of hell and an island of paradise.[ ] the island conception is the last relic of paganism, but now the voyage is undertaken for the purpose of revenge or penance or pilgrimage. another series of tales of visionary journeys to hell or heaven are purely christian, yet the joys of heaven have a sensuous aspect which recalls those of the pagan elysium. in one of these, _the tidings of doomsday_,[ ] there are two hells, and besides heaven there is a place for the _boni non valde_, resembling the island of enoch and elijah in the _voyage of snedgus_. the connection of elysium with the christian paradise is seen in the title _tir tairngiri_, "the land of promise," which is applied to the heavenly kingdom or the land flowing with milk and honey in early glosses, e.g. on heb. iv. , vi. , where canaan and the _regnum c[oe]lorum_ are called _tír tairngiri_, and in a gloss to cor. x. , where the heavenly land is called tír tairngiri innambéo, "the land of promise of the living ones," thus likening it to the "land of the living" in the story of connla. sensuous as many of the aspects of elysium are, they have yet a spiritual aspect which must not be overlooked. the emphasis placed on its beauty, its music, its rest and peace, its oblivion, is spiritual rather than sensual, while the dwelling of favoured mortals there with divine beings is suggestive of that union with the divine which is the essence of all religion. though men are lured to seek it, they do not leave it, or they go back to it after a brief absence, and laeg says that he would prefer elysium to the kingship of all ireland, and his words are echoed by others. and the lure of the goddess often emphasises the freedom from turmoil, grief, and the rude alarms of earthly life. this "sweet and blessed country" is described with all the passion of a poetical race who dreamed of perfect happiness, and saw in the joy of nature's beauty, the love of women, and the thought of unbroken peace and harmony, no small part of man's truest life. favoured mortals had reached elysium, and the hope that he, too, might be so favoured buoyed up the celt as he dreamed over this state, which was so much more blissful even than the future state of the dead. many races have imagined a happy other-world, but no other race has so filled it with magic beauty, or so persistently recurred to it as the celts. they stood on the cliffs which faced the west, and as the pageant of sunset passed before them, or as at midday the light shimmered on the far horizon and on shadowy islands, they gazed with wistful eyes as if to catch a glimpse of elysium beyond the fountains of the deep and the halls of the setting sun. in all this we see the celtic version of a primitive and instinctive human belief. man refuses to think that the misery and disappointment and strife and pain of life must always be his. he hopes and believes that there is reserved for him, somewhere and at some time, eternal happiness and eternal love. footnotes: [ ] nutt-meyer, i. . [ ] joyce, _ocr_ . [ ] d'arbois, ii. ; _it_ i. f.; o'curry, _mc_ iii. . [ ] nutt-meyer, i. f., text and translation. [ ] _lu_ _a_; windisch, _irische gramm._ f.; d'arbois, v. f.; _gaelic journal_, ii. . [ ] _tos_ iv. . see also joyce, _ocr_ ; kennedy, . [ ] _lu_ f.; _it_ i. f.; o'curry, _atlantis_, ii., iii.; d'arbois, v. ; leahy, i. f. [ ] "from manannan came foes." [ ] joyce, _ocr_ f. [ ] o'grady, ii. . in this story the sea is identified with fiachna's wife. [ ] joyce, _ocr_ f. [ ] _it_ iii. f.; d'arbois, ii. . [ ] o'curry, _ms. mat._ . [ ] a similar idea occurs in many fian tales. [ ] evans, _welsh dict. s.v._ "annwfn"; anwyl, ; gaidoz, _zcp_ i. f. [ ] loth, i. f.; see p. , _supra_. [ ] pp. , , _supra_. [ ] guest, iii. ; loth, i. f. [ ] skene, i. , . cf. the _ille tournoiont_ of the graal romances and the revolving houses of _märchen_. a revolving rampart occurs in "maelduin" (_rc_ x. ). [ ] skene, i. . [ ] pp. , , _supra_. [ ] chretien, _eric_, f.; geoffrey, _vita merlini_, ; san marte, _geoffrey_, . another irish liban is called muirgen, which is the same as morgen. see girald. cambr. _spec. eccl._ rolls series, iv. . [ ] william of malmesbury, _de ant. glaston. eccl._ [ ] san marte, . [ ] _op. cit._ iv. . [ ] joyce, _ocr_ ; rh[^y]s, _cfl_ i. ; hardiman, _irish minst._ i. ; sébillot, ii. f.; girald. cambr. ii. . the underworld is sometimes reached through a well (cf. p. , _supra_; _ti_ iii. ). [ ] _le braz_{ }, i. p. xxxix, ii. f.; albert le grand, _vies de saints de bretagne_, . [ ] a whole class of such irish legends is called _tomhadna_, "inundations." a typical instance is that of the town below lough neagh, already referred to by giraldus cambrensis, _top. hib._ ii. ; cf. a welsh instance in _itin. cambr._ i. . see rh[^y]s, _cfl, passim_; kennedy, ; _rev. des trad. pop._ ix. . [ ] _scott. celt. rev._ i. ; campbell, _wht_ nos. , ; loth, i. . [ ] curtin, _tales_, ; rh[^y]s, _cfl_ i. . [ ] nutt-meyer, i. . [ ] in the vedas, elysium has also a strong agricultural aspect, probably for the same reasons. [ ] d'arbois, ii. , , , vi. , ; _rc_ xxvi. ; _les druides_, . [ ] for the text see windisch, _ir. gram._ : "totchurethar bii bithbi at gérait do dáinib tethrach. ar-dot-chiat each dia i n-dálaib tathardai eter dugnathu inmaini." dr. stokes and sir john rh[^y]s have both privately confirmed the interpretation given above. [ ] "dialogue of the sages," _rc_ xxvi. f. [ ] tethra was husband of the war-goddess badb, and in one text his name is glossed _badb_ (cormac, _s.v._ "tethra"). the name is also glossed _muir_, "sea," by o'cleary, and the sea is called "the plain of tethra" (_arch. rev._ i. ). these obscure notices do not necessarily denote that he was ruler of an oversea elysium. [ ] nennius, _hist. brit._ § ; d'arbois, ii. , , . [ ] _ll_ _b_; keating, . [ ] both art _motifs_ and early burial customs in the two countries are similar. see reinach, _rc_ xxi. ; _l'anthropologie_, , ; siret, _les premiere ages du metal dans le sud. est. de l'espagne._ [ ] orosius, i. . ; _ll_ _b_. [ ] d'arbois, v. ; o'grady, ii. . [ ] _tos_ iii. ; joyce, _ocr_ . for a folk-tale version see _folk-lore_, vii. . [ ] leahy, i. ; campbell, _lf_ ; _cm_ xiii. ; _dean of lismore's book_, . [ ] o'curry, _mc_ ii. ; cormac, . [ ] see p. , _supra_; _it_ iii. . [ ] see gaidoz, "la requisition de l'amour et la symbolisme de la pomme," _ann. de l'École pratique des hautes Études_, ; fraser, _pausanias_, iii. . [ ] rh[^y]s, _hl_ . [ ] "the silver bough in irish legend," _folk-lore_, xii. . [ ] cook, _folk-lore_, xvii. . [ ] _it_ i. . [ ] o'donovan, _battle of mag rath_, ; d'arbois, v. ; _it_ i. . dagda's cauldron came from murias, probably an oversea world. [ ] miss hull, . scath is here the other-world, conceived, however, as a dismal abode. [ ] o'curry, _mc_ ii. , iii. ; keating, f.; _rc_ xv. . [ ] skene, i. ; cf. _rc_ xxii. . [ ] p. , _supra_. [ ] guest, iii. f. [ ] see pp. , , _supra_. [ ] for the use of a vessel in ritual as a symbol of deity, see crooke, _folk-lore_, viii. f. [ ] diod. sic. v. ; athen. iv. ; joyce, _sh_ ii. ; _antient laws of ireland_, iv. . the cauldrons of irish houses are said in the texts to be inexhaustible (cf. _rc_ xxiii. ). [ ] strabo, vii. . ; lucan, usener's ed., p. ; _it_ iii. ; _antient laws of ireland_, i. f. [ ] curtin, _hti_ , . [ ] see villemarqué, _contes pop. des anciens bretons_, paris, ; rh[^y]s, _al_; and especially nutt, _legend of the holy grail_, . [ ] "adventures of nera," _rc_ x. ; _rc_ xvi. , . [ ] p. , _supra_. [ ] p. , _supra_. [ ] for parallel myths see _rig-veda_, i. . ; campbell, _travels in south africa_, i. ; johnston, _uganda protectorate_, ii. ; ling roth, _natives of sarawak_, i. ; and cf. the myth of prometheus. [ ] this is found in the stories of bran, maelduin, connla, in fian tales (o'grady, ii. , ), in the "children of tuirenn," and in gaelic _märchen_. [ ] martin, ; sébillot, ii. . [ ] burton, _thousand nights and a night_, x. ; chamberlain, _aino folk-tales_, ; _l'anthropologie_, v. ; maspero, _hist. anc. des peuples de l'orient_, i. . the lust of the women of these islands is fatal to their lovers. [ ] an island near new guinea is called "the land of women." on it men are allowed to land temporarily, but only the female offspring of the women are allowed to survive (_l' anthrop._ v. ). the indians of florida had a tradition of an island in a lake inhabited by the fairest women (chateaubriand, _autob._ , ii. ), and fijian mythology knows of an elysian island of goddesses, near the land of the gods, to which a few favoured mortals are admitted (williams, _fiji_, i. ). [ ] p. , _supra_. islands may have been regarded as sacred because of such cults, as the folk-lore reported by plutarch suggests (p. , _supra_). celtic saints retained the veneration for islands, and loved to dwell on them, and the idea survives in folk-belief. cf. the veneration of lewismen for the flannan islands. [ ] gir. camb. _itin. camb._ i. . [ ] translations of some of these _voyages_ by stokes are given in _rc_, vols. ix. x. and xiv. see also zimmer, "brendan's meerfahrt," _zeits. für deut. alt._ xxxiii.; cf. nutt-meyer, ch. , . [ ] _rc_ iv. . index abnoba, . adamnan, . aed abrat, . aed slane, . aeracura, , . afanc, . agricultural rites, , , , , , , , . see festivals. aife, . aillén, . aine, f. aitherne, . albiorix, . all saints' day, . all souls' day, . allat, , . alpine race, , . altars, f. amæthon, , . amairgen, , . ambicatus, , . amours with mortals, divine, , , , , . amulets, , f., . ancestor worship, , . andarta, . andrasta, , . anextiomarus, . animal gods, anthropomorphic, , , , f., , , , . animal worship, , , , , f., . animals, burial of, , , . animals, descent from, , f. animals, domestic, from the gods' land, , . animals, dressing as, , . animals, sacramental eating of, f. animals, slaughter of, . animals, tabooed, . animism, , . ankou, . annwfn, , , , , f., . anu, f., , , . anwyl, prof., note, . apollo, , , , , , . arawn, , , , . archæology, . arduinna, . arianrhod, , , , f. artemis, , , , . artaios, , . arthur, , , , , f., , , , , . arthurian cycle, , . artor, . arvalus, . astrology, . augustus, , . auto-suggestion, . avagddu, . avallon, , . bacchus, . badb, , , , , , . badbcatha, , . balor, , note, , , , . banba, , , . _banfeinnidi_, . _bangaisgedaig_, . baptism, note, f. bards, , , . barintus, . barrex, . barri, s., . bear, cult of, . beddoe, dr., . belatucadros, , . belenos, , , , , , , . belgæ, f. beli, , , , f., . _belinuntia_, , . belinus, , , , . belisama, , - , . bellovesus, . beltane, , , , , . bericynthia, , . bertrand, m., . _bile_, , . bile, , , . bird gods, , , . birth, , . black annis' bower, . blathnat, , , . blodeuwedd, , f., . blood, , . blood, brotherhood, , . boand, , . boar, cult of, . bodb, . bodb dearg, , , . bormana, . borvo, , . boudicca, , , , . boughs, , . boundary stones, . braciaca, . bran, , , f., , , , , , , f. branwen, , f., f., . braziers, god of, . brennius, , f. brennus, . bres, , , - . brian, f. bride, s., . bridge, . bridge of life, . brigantia, , . brigindo, , . brigit, , , f., , . brigit, st., f., note, . broca, . bronze age, . brother-sister unions, , . brown bull, . brownie, , , . _brug_. see _síd_. brythons, . brythons, gods of, , f., . buanann, , , . bull, cult of, , , , , . burial rites, , f. caer sidi, , , . cæsar, , , , , , , , . cakes, . calatin, f. calendar, f., . camulos, , , . candlemas, . cannibalism, , . caoilte, , , , . caractacus, . carman, . carpenters, god of, . cassiterides, . cassivellaunus, . castor and pollux, . caswallawn, , , - . cathbad, . cathubodua, , . caturix, . cauldron, , , , , , , . celtæ, , , . celtiberians, , . celtic and teutonic religion, . celtic empire, f. celtic origins, f. celtic people, types of, . celtic religion, evolution of, f. celtic religion, higher aspects of, . celtic religion, homogeneity of, . celtic religion, roman influence on, . celts, gods of, . celts, religiosity of, . celts, temperament of, , . cenn cruaich, , note. cera, . cernunnos, f., , , , , . cerridwen, f., , f. cessair, . cethlenn, , . cetnad, . charms, , . church and paganism, , , , , , , f., f., f., , , , , , , - , , , , . cian, , . clairvoyance, . cleena, . clota, , . clutoida, . cocidius, . cock, . columba, s., , , note, , , , , - , . combats, ritual, , . comedovæ, . comyn, m., , . conaire, , , , . conall cernach, , , , . conan, . conception, magical, . conchobar, , , , , , , . conn, . conncrithir, . connla, , , , , , , . conservatism in belief, . coral, . coranians, . cordelia, . cormac, , , , . corn-spirit, , , , , , , , , f., . corotacus, . cosmogony, f. couvade, , . crafts, gods of, . cranes, . craniology, f. creation, . creiddylad, , , . creidne, , . creirwy, . crom dubh, . crom eocha, . cromm cruaich, , , , . cross, . cross-roads, . cruithne, . cúchulainn, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . cúchulainn saga, , , , , , f., , , . culann, . culture goddesses, , f. culture gods and heroes, , , - , , , note, . cumal, , , f., f. cúroi, , . cursing wells, . dagda, , , , , , - , f., , . damona, , . dance, ritual, , , . danu, , f., , , . _daoine-sidhe_, . d'arbois, m., , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . day of judgment, . dead, condition and cult of, , f., , , f., , f., . dead debtor, . dead, land of, and elysium, f. dead living in grave, - . debility of ultonians, , f., . dechelette, m., . dechtire, f., , . _deiseil_, , , . dei terreni, . demeter, , , , . demons, f., . devorgilla, . diana, , . diancecht, , , , . diarmaid, , , , , , , , , , , , , - . _dii casses,_ . diodorus siculus, . dionysus, . dioscuri, . dirona, , . dirra, . disablot, . disir, . dispater, f., , , , , , , , , . distortion, , , . divination, , f., , , . divine descent, , . divine kings, . divineresses, . diviners, . divining rod, . dolmens, , , . domestication, , , . _dominæ_, . domnu, note, , . dôn, , , , . donnotaurus, , . dragon, , , . drink of oblivion, . druidesses, , . druidic hedge, . druidic sending, . druids, , , , , , f., , , , f., f., , f., , , - , f., f., . druids and filid, f. druids and magic, , , f. druids and medicine, . druids and monasticism, . druids and pythagoras, . druids and rome, f. druids, classical references to, f. druids, dress of, f. druids, origin of, f. druids, poems of, . druids, power of, . druids, teaching of, f., , . druids, varieties of, f. drunemeton, , , . dualism, f., f. dumias, . dusii, . dwelling of gods. see gods, abode of. dylan, , , . _each uisge_, . earth and under-earth, , , . earth cults, . earth divinities, , , , , , f., note, , f., , , , , , , , f., . eclipses, . ecne, , . ecstasy, . egg, serpent's, . elatha, , , . elcmar, , . elements, cult of, f. elphin, . elves, note. elysium, , f., , , , , , , , , , f., , f. elysium, and paradise, f. elysium, characteristics of, ff. elysium, lords of, . elysium, names of, . elysium, origin of, f. elysium, varieties of, f. emer, , , . enbarr, , . eochaid, . eochaid ollathair, . eochaid o'flynn, . eogabail, . epona, , , , f. eri, . eridanus, . eriu, - . esus, , , , , , . etain, f., , , , . etair, . ethics, , . ethne, note, . euhemerisation, f., , , , , . eurosswyd, . evans, dr., . evil eye, . evnissyen, . exogamy, . _ex votos_, . fachan, . fairies, , f., , f., , , , , , , , , note, , f., , , , , , . fairyland, , , . _fáith_, , , . falga, , , . fand, , , , , , . ferdia, . fergus, , . fertility cults, , , , , , , , , , - , , , , f. festivals, , , f. festivals of dead, . fetich, . fiachna, , , , . fians, , . _filid_, f., , f., . _findbennach_, . finnen, s., . finntain, . fionn, , , - , , f., , , , , , - . fionn saga, , , , , f. _fir dea_, . _fir domnann_, f., . _fir síde_, , . firbolgs, , . fires, f., , f., , , . fires, sacred, . fish, sacred, , . flann manistrech, . flood, , . fomorians, , f., - , , , , , , , , , , . food of immortality, f. food as bond of relationship, . forest divinities, , . fotla, - . foundation sacrifices, . fountains, , , . fountains of youth, , . fraoch, . friuch, . frazer, dr. j.g., , , . fuamnach, . funeral sacrifices, , , . future life, f. galatæ, . galli, . gallizenæ, . see priestesses. galioin, , . garbh mac stairn, . gargantua, note, . garman, . gauls, , . gavida, , . _geasa_, , , , , f., , f. see tabu. geoffrey of monmouth, , , . ghosts, , , , , , , , , . ghosts in trees, f. gildas, . gilla coemain, . gilvæthwy, . glass, . glastonbury, , , . goborchin, . god of connaught, . god of druidism, , , . god of ulster, . goddesses and mortals, . goddesses, pre-eminence of, , , . godiva, . gods, abode of, f., , . gods, children of, . gods, fertility and civilisation from land of, , - , , , f., . gods uniting with mortals, . goibniu, , , . goidels, , , . goll mac morna, . gomme, sir g.l., , . goose, . govannon, f. graal, . grainne, , . grannos, , f., , , . gregory of tours, , , . groves, , , f. growth, divinities of, , , , , , . gruagach, . guinevere, . gurgiunt, . gutuatri, f. gwawl, , . gweir, . gwion, , , . gwydion, , f., , , . gwyn, , , . gwythur, . hades, . hafgan, , . hallowe'en, , . hallstatt, , . hallucinations, - . hammer as divine symbol, , . hammer, god with, f., , f., . haoma, . hare, . harvest, , . head-hunting, . heads, cult of, , , , f. healing plants, , f. healing ritual, , f. healing springs, , . hearth as altar, f. heaven and earth, . hen, . hephaistos, . heracles, , , . heroes in hills, . hills, . holder, a., . horned helmets, . horns, gods with, f. horse, f. hu gadarm, note. hyde, dr., - . hyperboreans, , . hypnotism, , , - . iberians, . icauna, . iconoclasm, . igerna, . images, , , , , f. _imbas forosnai_, . immortality, , , . incantations, , f., , , . incest, f. indech, , . inspiration, , . invisibility, , . is, . iuchar, iucharbar, , f. janus, , . joyce, dr., , , . juno, . junones, . jullian, . juppiter, . kalevala, . keane, . keating, , . kei, f. keres, . kieva, . king and fertility, , . kings, divine, f., . kings, election of, . kore, , - . kronos, . la tène, . labraid, , , , . lakes, , . lammas, . land under waves, . lear, . ler, lir, note, , . lia fail, . liban, , . libations, f., . ligurians, . llew, , , . lludd llawereint, , , , f., . llyr, f. lochlanners, , . lodens, . loegaire, , , . lonnrot, . loth, m., . love, . lucan, , , , , f., . luchtine, . lucian, , . lug, note, note, , , , , , f., , f., , , , , , , , f. lugaid, . lugnasad, , , f., f. lugoves, . lugus, , . lycanthropy, . mabinogion, , f. mabon, , . macbain, dr., , , . maccuill, maccecht, and macgrainne, . macha, , , , . macineely, . macpherson, , f. madonna, . maelduin, . maelrubha, s. . magic, , , , , . magic, agricultural, , - , , , note. magico-medical rites, f., . magonia, . magtured, f., . man, origin of, , . manannan, note, - , , , f., , , , , , , , f., , f., , . manawyddan, , f., f., , . mannhardt, . maponos, , . _märchen_ formulæ, , , , , , - , , , , , , , , , , , , . marriage, sacred, , , . mars, f., , , . martin, s., , , . martinmas, . f. math, f. matholwych, . matres, , f., - , , , , , , . matriarchate, , . matronæ, , , . may-day, . may-queen, , . medb, f. medicine, f. mediterranean race, . medros, , . megaliths, , , , . see stonehenge. men, cults of, . mercury, f., , , f. merlin, , f. mermaids, . metempsychosis, , f. meyer, prof., , . miach, . mider, f., , , - . midsummer, , , , , , , , , , , , f. mile, . milesians, , , . minerva, , , . miracles, , . mistletoe, , , , , f., . mithraism, . moccus, , . modranicht, . modron, , . mogons, , , . mongan, , , f., . moon, f., . morgen, , , . morrigan, , , , - , - , , . morvran, , . mounds, , . mountain gods, . mountains, f. mowat, m., , . muireartach, , . muirne, . mule, . mullo, . music, , . mythological school, , , , , , f. name, . name-giving, f. nantosvelta, . nature divinities and spirits, , , f. needfire, . nemaind, . neman, . nemedians, f. _nemeton_, . nemetona, , . nennius, . neo-druidic heresy, note. neptune, . nera, . nessa, , . nét, , , . neton, . new year, , , . night, . niskas, . nodons, , , , . norse influence, , . nuada, f., , , , , . nuada necht, f. nudd, , f., , . nudd hael, . nudity, - , . nutt, mr., , . nymphs, . nynnyaw, . oak, . oaths, f., . o'curry, , . o'davoren, . oengus, , , , , . oghams, . ogma, , - . ogmíos, , . oilill olom, . oisin, , - , f., , , , . omens, f. oracles, , . oran, . _orbis alius_, . orbsen, . ordeals, f., . orgiastic rites, , , , . osiris, . paradise, f. partholan, . pastoral stage, , , . patrick, s., . , , , , - , , , f., , , , , , , , f., . peanfahel, . peisgi, . penn cruc, . pennocrucium, . perambulation, . persephone, , . picts, f., , , . pillar of sky, . place-names, note, , , , , , . plants, , f. pliny, , , , f., . plutarch, . pluto, f. plutus, . poeninus, . poetry, divinities of, , . pollux, . polyandry, , f. polygamy, , . prayer, f. pre-celtic cults, , , , , , , , , , , f., . priesthood. see druids. priestesses, , , f., , , , , . priest-kings, , , , , . procopius, . prophecy, f, f. pryderi, f., f., , , . pwyll, f., , , . pythagoras, , . _quadriviæ_, . ragnarok, . rain-making, , f. rebirth, , , , f. reinach, m., note, , , , , , , . relics, . retribution, . rhiannon, f., f. rh[^y]s, sir j., , , , , , , , f., , , , f., , , , , , , , , , , . rigantona, . rigisama, . river divinities, , , , , , . rivers, cult of, , f. rivers, names of, . roman and celtic gods, f., f. romans and druids, f. ruadan, . ruad-rofhessa, . rucht, . rudiobus, . saar, . sacramental rites, , , , . sacrifice of aged, . sacrifice of animals, , , , , f., , . sacrifice, foundation, , f. sacrifice, human, , , , , , f., , , , , , , . sacrifice to dead, f., , . sacrificial offerings, , , , , , , , f., , . sacrificial survivals, f. saints, , , , , f., , f., note. saints and wells, . saints' days and pagan festivals, . salmon of knowledge, , , . samhain, , , , - , , , f., f. satire, . saturn, . scandinavia and ireland, . scathach, , . _scotti_, . sea, , . sébillot, . segomo, . segovesus, . selvanus, . semnotheoi, , . sequana, . sergi, prof., , . serpent, , , , . serpent with ram's head, , , , . serpent's egg, . serpent's glass, . setanta, . shape-shifting, , , , , , , , f., , f. _síd_, , note, , . silvanus, , , . sinend, , . sinnan, . sirona, . skene, dr., , . slain gods and human victims, , f., , , , , , , . sleep, magic, . smertullos, , , . smiths, god of, . smiths, magic of, . solar hero, . soma, . soul as animal, . soul, separable, , , . spain, . spells, , , f. squatting gods, f. sreng, . stag, . stanna, . stokes, dr., , , , , , . stone circles, . stonehenge, , , , - . stones, cult of, , , . sualtaim, . submerged towns, , . sucellos, f. suicide, , . sul, , , . suleviæ, . sun, , . sun myths, . swan-maidens, . swastika, . swine, , , , f. swineherds, the two, . symbols, . tabu, , , , , , , f., , , f., , , , , . see _geasa_. tadg, . _taghairm_, . tailtiu, , , . _táin bó cuailgne_, , f. taliesin, , , , , , , . taran, . taranis, , , . taranos, . _tarbh uisge_, . _tarvos trigaranos_, , , , . tattooing, , . tegid voel, . _teinm laegha_, . _tempestarii_, , . temples, , f. tethra, - , , , . teutates, , , . teyrnon, . three-headed gods, f. thumb of knowledge, . thurnam, dr., . _tír na n-og_, , , . tombs as sacred places, . tonsure, . torque, . totatis, . totemism, , , f., , , , . toutatis, . transformation. see shape-shifting. transformation combat, . transmigration, f., f., , f. tree cults, , , , , f., , , , , . tree descent from, . trees of elysium, . trees of immortality, f. triads, f., , f., , - , , , , , note. triple goddesses, f. tristram, . tuan maccairill, , , . tuatha dé danann, f., , , f., , f., , , , . tutelar divinities, , , . tuag, . _twrch trwyth_, , , . tyr, . underworld, , , , . urien, . _urwisg_, . uthyr, , , . valkyries, . vegetation cults, , . vegetation gods and spirits, , , , , f., , , , , , . venus of quinipily, . vera, . vesta, . _vierges noires_, . vintius, . _virgines_, . viviane, . vortigern, , , . vosegus, . votive offerings, . vulcan, . war chants, . war goddesses, , . war gods, , f., , , , , , , . warrior, ideal, , . warrior, power of dead, . washer at the ford, . water bull, . water fairies, , note, . water, guardians of, . water horse, . water world, note, . waves, fighting the, . waves, nine, . weapons, . wells, , f., , , f., , . wells, origin of, . wheel, god with, . wheel symbol, , , . white women, . wind, . windisch, prof., . wisdom, . wisdom from eating animal, note. wolf god, , , . witch, , , , , , . women and magic, f. women as first civilisers, , , , . women as warriors, . women, cults of, , , , , f., f., f., . women, islands of, f. world catastrophe, , . world, origin of, . wren, . yama, . year, division of, . yule log, , . zeus, , , f. zimmer, , , . at distributed proofreaders celtic fairy tales _selected and edited by_ joseph jacobs _say this three times, with your eyes shut_ mothuighim boladh an Éireannaigh bhinn bhreugaigh faoi m'fhóidín dúthaigh. _and you will see what you will see_ _to alfred nutt_ preface last year, in giving the young ones a volume of english fairy tales, my difficulty was one of collection. this time, in offering them specimens of the rich folk-fancy of the celts of these islands, my trouble has rather been one of selection. ireland began to collect her folk-tales almost as early as any country in europe, and croker has found a whole school of successors in carleton, griffin, kennedy, curtin, and douglas hyde. scotland had the great name of campbell, and has still efficient followers in macdougall, macinnes, carmichael, macleod, and campbell of tiree. gallant little wales has no name to rank alongside these; in this department the cymru have shown less vigour than the gaedhel. perhaps the eisteddfod, by offering prizes for the collection of welsh folk-tales, may remove this inferiority. meanwhile wales must be content to be somewhat scantily represented among the fairy tales of the celts, while the extinct cornish tongue has only contributed one tale. in making my selection i have chiefly tried to make the stories characteristic. it would have been easy, especially from kennedy, to have made up a volume entirely filled with "grimm's goblins" _à la celtique_. but one can have too much even of that very good thing, and i have therefore avoided as far as possible the more familiar "formulae" of folk-tale literature. to do this i had to withdraw from the english-speaking pale both in scotland and ireland, and i laid down the rule to include only tales that have been taken down from celtic peasants ignorant of english. having laid down the rule, i immediately proceeded to break it. the success of a fairy book, i am convinced, depends on the due admixture of the comic and the romantic: grimm and asbjörnsen knew this secret, and they alone. but the celtic peasant who speaks gaelic takes the pleasure of telling tales somewhat sadly: so far as he has been printed and translated, i found him, to my surprise, conspicuously lacking in humour. for the comic relief of this volume i have therefore had to turn mainly to the irish peasant of the pale; and what richer source could i draw from? for the more romantic tales i have depended on the gaelic, and, as i know about as much of gaelic as an irish nationalist m. p., i have had to depend on translators. but i have felt myself more at liberty than the translators themselves, who have generally been over-literal, in changing, excising, or modifying the original. i have even gone further. in order that the tales should be characteristically celtic, i have paid more particular attention to tales that are to be found on both sides of the north channel. in re-telling them i have had no scruple in interpolating now and then a scotch incident into an irish variant of the same story, or _vice versa_. where the translators appealed to english folklorists and scholars, i am trying to attract english children. they translated; i endeavoured to transfer. in short, i have tried to put myself into the position of an _ollamh_ or _sheenachie_ familiar with both forms of gaelic, and anxious to put his stories in the best way to attract english children. i trust i shall be forgiven by celtic scholars for the changes i have had to make to effect this end. the stories collected in this volume are longer and more detailed than the english ones i brought together last christmas. the romantic ones are certainly more romantic, and the comic ones perhaps more comic, though there may be room for a difference of opinion on this latter point. this superiority of the celtic folk-tales is due as much to the conditions under which they have been collected, as to any innate superiority of the folk-imagination. the folk-tale in england is in the last stages of exhaustion. the celtic folk-tales have been collected while the practice of story-telling is still in full vigour, though there are every signs that its term of life is already numbered. the more the reason why they should be collected and put on record while there is yet time. on the whole, the industry of the collectors of celtic folk-lore is to be commended, as may be seen from the survey of it i have prefixed to the notes and references at the end of the volume. among these, i would call attention to the study of the legend of beth gellert, the origin of which, i believe, i have settled. while i have endeavoured to render the language of the tales simple and free from bookish artifice, i have not felt at liberty to retell the tales in the english way. i have not scrupled to retain a celtic turn of speech, and here and there a celtic word, which i have _not_ explained within brackets--a practice to be abhorred of all good men. a few words unknown to the reader only add effectiveness and local colour to a narrative, as mr. kipling well knows. one characteristic of the celtic folk-lore i have endeavoured to represent in my selection, because it is nearly unique at the present day in europe. nowhere else is there so large and consistent a body of oral tradition about the national and mythical heroes as amongst the gaels. only the _byline_, or hero-songs of russia, equal in extent the amount of knowledge about the heroes of the past that still exists among the gaelic-speaking peasantry of scotland and ireland. and the irish tales and ballads have this peculiarity, that some of them have been extant, and can be traced, for well nigh a thousand years. i have selected as a specimen of this class the story of deirdre, collected among the scotch peasantry a few years ago, into which i have been able to insert a passage taken from an irish vellum of the twelfth century. i could have more than filled this volume with similar oral traditions about finn (the fingal of macpherson's "ossian"). but the story of finn, as told by the gaelic peasantry of to-day, deserves a volume by itself, while the adventures of the ultonian hero, cuchulain, could easily fill another. i have endeavoured to include in this volume the best and most typical stories told by the chief masters of the celtic folk-tale, campbell, kennedy, hyde, and curtin, and to these i have added the best tales scattered elsewhere. by this means i hope i have put together a volume, containing both the best, and the best known folk-tales of the celts. i have only been enabled to do this by the courtesy of those who owned the copyright of these stories. lady wilde has kindly granted me the use of her effective version of "the horned women;" and i have specially to thank messrs. macmillan for right to use kennedy's "legendary fictions," and messrs. sampson low & co., for the use of mr. curtin's tales. in making my selection, and in all doubtful points of treatment, i have had resource to the wide knowledge of my friend mr. alfred nutt in all branches of celtic folk-lore. if this volume does anything to represent to english children the vision and colour, the magic and charm, of the celtic folk-imagination, this is due in large measure to the care with which mr. nutt has watched its inception and progress. with him by my side i could venture into regions where the non-celt wanders at his own risk. lastly, i have again to rejoice in the co-operation of my friend, mr. j. d. batten, in giving form to the creations of the folk-fancy. he has endeavoured in his illustrations to retain as much as possible of celtic ornamentation; for all details of celtic archaeology he has authority. yet both he and i have striven to give celtic things as they appear to, and attract, the english mind, rather than attempt the hopeless task of representing them as they are to celts. the fate of the celt in the british empire bids fair to resemble that of the greeks among the romans. "they went forth to battle, but they always fell," yet the captive celt has enslaved his captor in the realm of imagination. the present volume attempts to begin the pleasant captivity from the earliest years. if it could succeed in giving a common fund of imaginative wealth to the celtic and the saxon children of these isles, it might do more for a true union of hearts than all your politics. joseph jacobs. contents i. connla and the fairy maiden ii. guleesh iii. the field of boliauns iv. the horned women v. conal yellowclaw vi. hudden and dudden and donald o'neary vii. the shepherd of myddvai viii. the sprightly tailor ix. the story of deirdre x. munachar and manachar xi. gold-tree and silver-tree xii. king o'toole and his goose xiii. the wooing of olwen xiv. jack and his comrades xv. the shee an gannon and the gruagach gaire xvi. the story-teller at fault xvii. the sea-maiden xviii. a legend of knockmany xix. fair, brown, and trembling xx. jack and his master xxi. beth gellert xxii. the tale of ivan xxiii. andrew coffey xxiv. the battle of the birds xxv. brewery of eggshells xxvi. the lad with the goat-skin notes and references connla and the fairy maiden connla of the fiery hair was son of conn of the hundred fights. one day as he stood by the side of his father on the height of usna, he saw a maiden clad in strange attire coming towards him. "whence comest thou, maiden?" said connla. "i come from the plains of the ever living," she said, "there where there is neither death nor sin. there we keep holiday alway, nor need we help from any in our joy. and in all our pleasure we have no strife. and because we have our homes in the round green hills, men call us the hill folk." the king and all with him wondered much to hear a voice when they saw no one. for save connla alone, none saw the fairy maiden. "to whom art thou talking, my son?" said conn the king. then the maiden answered, "connla speaks to a young, fair maid, whom neither death nor old age awaits. i love connla, and now i call him away to the plain of pleasure, moy mell, where boadag is king for aye, nor has there been complaint or sorrow in that land since he has held the kingship. oh, come with me, connla of the fiery hair, ruddy as the dawn with thy tawny skin. a fairy crown awaits thee to grace thy comely face and royal form. come, and never shall thy comeliness fade, nor thy youth, till the last awful day of judgment." the king in fear at what the maiden said, which he heard though he could not see her, called aloud to his druid, coran by name. "oh, coran of the many spells," he said, "and of the cunning magic, i call upon thy aid. a task is upon me too great for all my skill and wit, greater than any laid upon me since i seized the kingship. a maiden unseen has met us, and by her power would take from me my dear, my comely son. if thou help not, he will be taken from thy king by woman's wiles and witchery." then coran the druid stood forth and chanted his spells towards the spot where the maiden's voice had been heard. and none heard her voice again, nor could connla see her longer. only as she vanished before the druid's mighty spell, she threw an apple to connla. for a whole month from that day connla would take nothing, either to eat or to drink, save only from that apple. but as he ate it grew again and always kept whole. and all the while there grew within him a mighty yearning and longing after the maiden he had seen. but when the last day of the month of waiting came, connla stood by the side of the king his father on the plain of arcomin, and again he saw the maiden come towards him, and again she spoke to him. "'tis a glorious place, forsooth, that connla holds among short-lived mortals awaiting the day of death. but now the folk of life, the ever-living ones, beg and bid thee come to moy mell, the plain of pleasure, for they have learnt to know thee, seeing thee in thy home among thy dear ones." when conn the king heard the maiden's voice he called to his men aloud and said: "summon swift my druid coran, for i see she has again this day the power of speech." then the maiden said: "oh, mighty conn, fighter of a hundred fights, the druid's power is little loved; it has little honour in the mighty land, peopled with so many of the upright. when the law will come, it will do away with the druid's magic spells that come from the lips of the false black demon." then conn the king observed that since the maiden came, connla his son spoke to none that spake to him. so conn of the hundred fights said to him, "is it to thy mind what the woman says, my son?" "'tis hard upon me," then said connla; "i love my own folk above all things; but yet, but yet a longing seizes me for the maiden." when the maiden heard this, she answered and said "the ocean is not so strong as the waves of thy longing. come with me in my curragh, the gleaming, straight-gliding crystal canoe. soon we can reach boadag's realm. i see the bright sun sink, yet far as it is, we can reach it before dark. there is, too, another land worthy of thy journey, a land joyous to all that seek it. only wives and maidens dwell there. if thou wilt, we can seek it and live there alone together in joy." when the maiden ceased to speak, connla of the fiery hair rushed away from them and sprang into the curragh, the gleaming, straight-gliding crystal canoe. and then they all, king and court, saw it glide away over the bright sea towards the setting sun. away and away, till eye could see it no longer, and connla and the fairy maiden went their way on the sea, and were no more seen, nor did any know where they came. guleesh there was once a boy in the county mayo; guleesh was his name. there was the finest rath a little way off from the gable of the house, and he was often in the habit of seating himself on the fine grass bank that was running round it. one night he stood, half leaning against the gable of the house, and looking up into the sky, and watching the beautiful white moon over his head. after he had been standing that way for a couple of hours, he said to himself: "my bitter grief that i am not gone away out of this place altogether. i'd sooner be any place in the world than here. och, it's well for you, white moon," says he, "that's turning round, turning round, as you please yourself, and no man can put you back. i wish i was the same as you." hardly was the word out of his mouth when he heard a great noise coming like the sound of many people running together, and talking, and laughing, and making sport, and the sound went by him like a whirl of wind, and he was listening to it going into the rath. "musha, by my soul," says he, "but ye're merry enough, and i'll follow ye." what was in it but the fairy host, though he did not know at first that it was they who were in it, but he followed them into the rath. it's there he heard the _fulparnee_, and the _folpornee_, the _rap-lay-hoota_, and the _roolya-boolya_, that they had there, and every man of them crying out as loud as he could: "my horse, and bridle, and saddle! my horse, and bridle, and saddle!" "by my hand," said guleesh, "my boy, that's not bad. i'll imitate ye," and he cried out as well as they: "my horse, and bridle, and saddle! my horse, and bridle, and saddle!" and on the moment there was a fine horse with a bridle of gold, and a saddle of silver, standing before him. he leaped up on it, and the moment he was on its back he saw clearly that the rath was full of horses, and of little people going riding on them. said a man of them to him: "are you coming with us to-night, guleesh?" "i am surely," said guleesh. "if you are, come along," said the little man, and out they went all together, riding like the wind, faster than the fastest horse ever you saw a-hunting, and faster than the fox and the hounds at his tail. the cold winter's wind that was before them, they overtook her, and the cold winter's wind that was behind them, she did not overtake them. and stop nor stay of that full race, did they make none, until they came to the brink of the sea. then every one of them said: "hie over cap! hie over cap!" and that moment they were up in the air, and before guleesh had time to remember where he was, they were down on dry land again, and were going like the wind. at last they stood still, and a man of them said to guleesh: "guleesh, do you know where you are now?" "not a know," says guleesh. "you're in france, guleesh," said he. "the daughter of the king of france is to be married to-night, the handsomest woman that the sun ever saw, and we must do our best to bring her with us; if we're only able to carry her off; and you must come with us that we may be able to put the young girl up behind you on the horse, when we'll be bringing her away, for it's not lawful for us to put her sitting behind ourselves. but you're flesh and blood, and she can take a good grip of you, so that she won't fall off the horse. are you satisfied, guleesh, and will you do what we're telling you?" "why shouldn't i be satisfied?" said guleesh. "i'm satisfied, surely, and anything that ye will tell me to do i'll do it without doubt." they got off their horses there, and a man of them said a word that guleesh did not understand, and on the moment they were lifted up, and guleesh found himself and his companions in the palace. there was a great feast going on there, and there was not a nobleman or a gentleman in the kingdom but was gathered there, dressed in silk and satin, and gold and silver, and the night was as bright as the day with all the lamps and candles that were lit, and guleesh had to shut his two eyes at the brightness. when he opened them again and looked from him, he thought he never saw anything as fine as all he saw there. there were a hundred tables spread out, and their full of meat and drink on each table of them, flesh-meat, and cakes and sweetmeats, and wine and ale, and every drink that ever a man saw. the musicians were at the two ends of the hall, and they were playing the sweetest music that ever a man's ear heard, and there were young women and fine youths in the middle of the hall, dancing and turning, and going round so quickly and so lightly, that it put a _soorawn_ in guleesh's head to be looking at them. there were more there playing tricks, and more making fun and laughing, for such a feast as there was that day had not been in france for twenty years, because the old king had no children alive but only the one daughter, and she was to be married to the son of another king that night. three days the feast was going on, and the third night she was to be married, and that was the night that guleesh and the sheehogues came, hoping, if they could, to carry off with them the king's young daughter. guleesh and his companions were standing together at the head of the hall, where there was a fine altar dressed up, and two bishops behind it waiting to marry the girl, as soon as the right time should come. now nobody could see the sheehogues, for they said a word as they came in, that made them all invisible, as if they had not been in it at all. "tell me which of them is the king's daughter," said guleesh, when he was becoming a little used to the noise and the light. "don't you see her there away from you?" said the little man that he was talking to. guleesh looked where the little man was pointing with his finger, and there he saw the loveliest woman that was, he thought, upon the ridge of the world. the rose and the lily were fighting together in her face, and one could not tell which of them got the victory. her arms and hands were like the lime, her mouth as red as a strawberry when it is ripe, her foot was as small and as light as another one's hand, her form was smooth and slender, and her hair was falling down from her head in buckles of gold. her garments and dress were woven with gold and silver, and the bright stone that was in the ring on her hand was as shining as the sun. guleesh was nearly blinded with all the loveliness and beauty that was in her; but when he looked again, he saw that she was crying, and that there was the trace of tears in her eyes. "it can't be," said guleesh, "that there's grief on her, when everybody round her is so full of sport and merriment." "musha, then, she is grieved," said the little man; "for it's against her own will she's marrying, and she has no love for the husband she is to marry. the king was going to give her to him three years ago, when she was only fifteen, but she said she was too young, and requested him to leave her as she was yet. the king gave her a year's grace, and when that year was up he gave her another year's grace, and then another; but a week or a day he would not give her longer, and she is eighteen years old to-night, and it's time for her to marry; but, indeed," says he, and he crooked his mouth in an ugly way--"indeed, it's no king's son she'll marry, if i can help it." guleesh pitied the handsome young lady greatly when he heard that, and he was heart-broken to think that it would be necessary for her to marry a man she did not like, or, what was worse, to take a nasty sheehogue for a husband. however, he did not say a word, though he could not help giving many a curse to the ill-luck that was laid out for himself, to be helping the people that were to snatch her away from her home and from her father. he began thinking, then, what it was he ought to do to save her, but he could think of nothing. "oh! if i could only give her some help and relief," said he, "i wouldn't care whether i were alive or dead; but i see nothing that i can do for her." he was looking on when the king's son came up to her and asked her for a kiss, but she turned her head away from him. guleesh had double pity for her then, when he saw the lad taking her by the soft white hand, and drawing her out to dance. they went round in the dance near where guleesh was, and he could plainly see that there were tears in her eyes. when the dancing was over, the old king, her father, and her mother the queen, came up and said that this was the right time to marry her, that the bishop was ready, and it was time to put the wedding-ring on her and give her to her husband. the king took the youth by the hand, and the queen took her daughter, and they went up together to the altar, with the lords and great people following them. when they came near the altar, and were no more than about four yards from it, the little sheehogue stretched out his foot before the girl, and she fell. before she was able to rise again he threw something that was in his hand upon her, said a couple of words, and upon the moment the maiden was gone from amongst them. nobody could see her, for that word made her invisible. the little man_een_ seized her and raised her up behind guleesh, and the king nor no one else saw them, but out with them through the hall till they came to the door. oro! dear mary! it's there the pity was, and the trouble, and the crying, and the wonder, and the searching, and the _rookawn_, when that lady disappeared from their eyes, and without their seeing what did it. out of the door of the palace they went, without being stopped or hindered, for nobody saw them, and, "my horse, my bridle, and saddle!" says every man of them. "my horse, my bridle, and saddle!" says guleesh; and on the moment the horse was standing ready caparisoned before him. "now, jump up, guleesh," said the little man, "and put the lady behind you, and we will be going; the morning is not far off from us now." guleesh raised her up on the horse's back, and leaped up himself before her, and, "rise, horse," said he; and his horse, and the other horses with him, went in a full race until they came to the sea. "hie over cap!" said every man of them. "hie over cap!" said guleesh; and on the moment the horse rose under him, and cut a leap in the clouds, and came down in erin. they did not stop there, but went of a race to the place where was guleesh's house and the rath. and when they came as far as that, guleesh turned and caught the young girl in his two arms, and leaped off the horse. "i call and cross you to myself, in the name of god!" said he; and on the spot, before the word was out of his mouth, the horse fell down, and what was in it but the beam of a plough, of which they had made a horse; and every other horse they had, it was that way they made it. some of them were riding on an old besom, and some on a broken stick, and more on a bohalawn or a hemlock-stalk. the good people called out together when they heard what guleesh said: "oh! guleesh, you clown, you thief, that no good may happen you, why did you play that trick on us?" but they had no power at all to carry off the girl, after guleesh had consecrated her to himself. "oh! guleesh, isn't that a nice turn you did us, and we so kind to you? what good have we now out of our journey to france. never mind yet, you clown, but you'll pay us another time for this. believe us, you'll repent it." "he'll have no good to get out of the young girl," said the little man that was talking to him in the palace before that, and as he said the word he moved over to her and struck her a slap on the side of the head. "now," says he, "she'll be without talk any more; now, guleesh, what good will she be to you when she'll be dumb? it's time for us to go--but you'll remember us, guleesh!" when he said that he stretched out his two hands, and before guleesh was able to give an answer, he and the rest of them were gone into the rath out of his sight, and he saw them no more. he turned to the young woman and said to her: "thanks be to god, they're gone. would you not sooner stay with me than with them?" she gave him no answer. "there's trouble and grief on her yet," said guleesh in his own mind, and he spoke to her again: "i am afraid that you must spend this night in my father's house, lady, and if there is anything that i can do for you, tell me, and i'll be your servant." the beautiful girl remained silent, but there were tears in her eyes, and her face was white and red after each other. "lady," said guleesh, "tell me what you would like me to do now. i never belonged at all to that lot of sheehogues who carried you away with them. i am the son of an honest farmer, and i went with them without knowing it. if i'll be able to send you back to your father i'll do it, and i pray you make any use of me now that you may wish." he looked into her face, and he saw the mouth moving as if she was going to speak, but there came no word from it. "it cannot be," said guleesh, "that you are dumb. did i not hear you speaking to the king's son in the palace to-night? or has that devil made you really dumb, when he struck his nasty hand on your jaw?" the girl raised her white smooth hand, and laid her finger on her tongue, to show him that she had lost her voice and power of speech, and the tears ran out of her two eyes like streams, and guleesh's own eyes were not dry, for as rough as he was on the outside he had a soft heart, and could not stand the sight of the young girl, and she in that unhappy plight. he began thinking with himself what he ought to do, and he did not like to bring her home with himself to his father's house, for he knew well that they would not believe him, that he had been in france and brought back with him the king of france's daughter, and he was afraid they might make a mock of the young lady or insult her. as he was doubting what he ought to do, and hesitating, he chanced to remember the priest. "glory be to god," said he, "i know now what i'll do; i'll bring her to the priest's house, and he won't refuse me to keep the lady and care for her." he turned to the lady again and told her that he was loth to take her to his father's house, but that there was an excellent priest very friendly to himself, who would take good care of her, if she wished to remain in his house; but that if there was any other place she would rather go, he said he would bring her to it. she bent her head, to show him she was obliged, and gave him to understand that she was ready to follow him any place he was going. "we will go to the priest's house, then," said he; "he is under an obligation to me, and will do anything i ask him." they went together accordingly to the priest's house, and the sun was just rising when they came to the door. guleesh beat it hard, and as early as it was the priest was up, and opened the door himself. he wondered when he saw guleesh and the girl, for he was certain that it was coming wanting to be married they were. "guleesh, guleesh, isn't it the nice boy you are that you can't wait till ten o'clock or till twelve, but that you must be coming to me at this hour, looking for marriage, you and your sweetheart? you ought to know that i can't marry you at such a time, or, at all events, can't marry you lawfully. but ubbubboo!" said he, suddenly, as he looked again at the young girl, "in the name of god, who have you here? who is she, or how did you get her?" "father," said guleesh, "you can marry me, or anybody else, if you wish; but it's not looking for marriage i came to you now, but to ask you, if you please, to give a lodging in your house to this young lady." the priest looked at him as though he had ten heads on him; but without putting any other question to him, he desired him to come in, himself and the maiden, and when they came in, he shut the door, brought them into the parlour, and put them sitting. "now, guleesh," said he, "tell me truly who is this young lady, and whether you're out of your senses really, or are only making a joke of me." "i'm not telling a word of lie, nor making a joke of you," said guleesh; "but it was from the palace of the king of france i carried off this lady, and she is the daughter of the king of france." he began his story then, and told the whole to the priest, and the priest was so much surprised that he could not help calling out at times, or clapping his hands together. when guleesh said from what he saw he thought the girl was not satisfied with the marriage that was going to take place in the palace before he and the sheehogues broke it up, there came a red blush into the girl's cheek, and he was more certain than ever that she had sooner be as she was--badly as she was--than be the married wife of the man she hated. when guleesh said that he would be very thankful to the priest if he would keep her in his own house, the kind man said he would do that as long as guleesh pleased, but that he did not know what they ought to do with her, because they had no means of sending her back to her father again. guleesh answered that he was uneasy about the same thing, and that he saw nothing to do but to keep quiet until they should find some opportunity of doing something better. they made it up then between themselves that the priest should let on that it was his brother's daughter he had, who was come on a visit to him from another county, and that he should tell everybody that she was dumb, and do his best to keep every one away from her. they told the young girl what it was they intended to do, and she showed by her eyes that she was obliged to them. guleesh went home then, and when his people asked him where he had been, he said that he had been asleep at the foot of the ditch, and had passed the night there. there was great wonderment on the priest's neighbours at the girl who came so suddenly to his house without any one knowing where she was from, or what business she had there. some of the people said that everything was not as it ought to be, and others, that guleesh was not like the same man that was in it before, and that it was a great story, how he was drawing every day to the priest's house, and that the priest had a wish and a respect for him, a thing they could not clear up at all. that was true for them, indeed, for it was seldom the day went by but guleesh would go to the priest's house, and have a talk with him, and as often as he would come he used to hope to find the young lady well again, and with leave to speak; but, alas! she remained dumb and silent, without relief or cure. since she had no other means of talking, she carried on a sort of conversation between herself and himself, by moving her hand and fingers, winking her eyes, opening and shutting her mouth, laughing or smiling, and a thousand other signs, so that it was not long until they understood each other very well. guleesh was always thinking how he should send her back to her father; but there was no one to go with her, and he himself did not know what road to go, for he had never been out of his own country before the night he brought her away with him. nor had the priest any better knowledge than he; but when guleesh asked him, he wrote three or four letters to the king of france, and gave them to buyers and sellers of wares, who used to be going from place to place across the sea; but they all went astray, and never a one came to the king's hand. this was the way they were for many months, and guleesh was falling deeper and deeper in love with her every day, and it was plain to himself and the priest that she liked him. the boy feared greatly at last, lest the king should really hear where his daughter was, and take her back from himself, and he besought the priest to write no more, but to leave the matter to god. so they passed the time for a year, until there came a day when guleesh was lying by himself, on the grass, on the last day of the last month in autumn, and he was thinking over again in his own mind of everything that happened to him from the day that he went with the sheehogues across the sea. he remembered then, suddenly, that it was one november night that he was standing at the gable of the house, when the whirlwind came, and the sheehogues in it, and he said to himself: "we have november night again to-day, and i'll stand in the same place i was last year, until i see if the good people come again. perhaps i might see or hear something that would be useful to me, and might bring back her talk again to mary"--that was the name himself and the priest called the king's daughter, for neither of them knew her right name. he told his intention to the priest, and the priest gave him his blessing. guleesh accordingly went to the old rath when the night was darkening, and he stood with his bent elbow leaning on a grey old flag, waiting till the middle of the night should come. the moon rose slowly; and it was like a knob of fire behind him; and there was a white fog which was raised up over the fields of grass and all damp places, through the coolness of the night after a great heat in the day. the night was calm as is a lake when there is not a breath of wind to move a wave on it, and there was no sound to be heard but the _cronawn_ of the insects that would go by from time to time, or the hoarse sudden scream of the wild-geese, as they passed from lake to lake, half a mile up in the air over his head; or the sharp whistle of the golden and green plover, rising and lying, lying and rising, as they do on a calm night. there were a thousand thousand bright stars shining over his head, and there was a little frost out, which left the grass under his foot white and crisp. he stood there for an hour, for two hours, for three hours, and the frost increased greatly, so that he heard the breaking of the _traneens_ under his foot as often as he moved. he was thinking, in his own mind, at last, that the sheehogues would not come that night, and that it was as good for him to return back again, when he heard a sound far away from him, coming towards him, and he recognised what it was at the first moment. the sound increased, and at first it was like the beating of waves on a stony shore, and then it was like the falling of a great waterfall, and at last it was like a loud storm in the tops of the trees, and then the whirlwind burst into the rath of one rout, and the sheehogues were in it. it all went by him so suddenly that he lost his breath with it, but he came to himself on the spot, and put an ear on himself, listening to what they would say. scarcely had they gathered into the rath till they all began shouting, and screaming, and talking amongst themselves; and then each one of them cried out: "my horse, and bridle, and saddle! my horse, and bridle, and saddle!" and guleesh took courage, and called out as loudly as any of them: "my horse, and bridle, and saddle! my horse, and bridle, and saddle!" but before the word was well out of his mouth, another man cried out: "ora! guleesh, my boy, are you here with us again? how are you getting on with your woman? there's no use in your calling for your horse to-night. i'll go bail you won't play such a trick on us again. it was a good trick you played on us last year?" "it was," said another man; "he won't do it again." "isn't he a prime lad, the same lad! to take a woman with him that never said as much to him as, 'how do you do?' since this time last year!" says the third man. "perhaps be likes to be looking at her," said another voice. "and if the _omadawn_ only knew that there's an herb growing up by his own door, and if he were to boil it and give it to her, she'd be well," said another voice. "that's true for you." "he is an omadawn." "don't bother your head with him; we'll be going." "we'll leave the _bodach_ as he is." and with that they rose up into the air, and out with them with one _roolya-boolya_ the way they came; and they left poor guleesh standing where they found him, and the two eyes going out of his head, looking after them and wondering. he did not stand long till he returned back, and he thinking in his own mind on all he saw and heard, and wondering whether there was really an herb at his own door that would bring back the talk to the king's daughter. "it can't be," says he to himself, "that they would tell it to me, if there was any virtue in it; but perhaps the sheehogue didn't observe himself when he let the word slip out of his mouth. i'll search well as soon as the sun rises, whether there's any plant growing beside the house except thistles and dockings." he went home, and as tired as he was he did not sleep a wink until the sun rose on the morrow. he got up then, and it was the first thing he did to go out and search well through the grass round about the house, trying could he get any herb that he did not recognise. and, indeed, he was not long searching till he observed a large strange herb that was growing up just by the gable of the house. he went over to it, and observed it closely, and saw that there were seven little branches coming out of the stalk, and seven leaves growing on every branch_een_ of them; and that there was a white sap in the leaves. "it's very wonderful," said he to himself, "that i never noticed this herb before. if there's any virtue in an herb at all, it ought to be in such a strange one as this." he drew out his knife, cut the plant, and carried it into his own house; stripped the leaves off it and cut up the stalk; and there came a thick, white juice out of it, as there comes out of the sow-thistle when it is bruised, except that the juice was more like oil. he put it in a little pot and a little water in it, and laid it on the fire until the water was boiling, and then he took a cup, filled it half up with the juice, and put it to his own mouth. it came into his head then that perhaps it was poison that was in it, and that the good people were only tempting him that he might kill himself with that trick, or put the girl to death without meaning it. he put down the cup again, raised a couple of drops on the top of his finger, and put it to his mouth. it was not bitter, and, indeed, had a sweet, agreeable taste. he grew bolder then, and drank the full of a thimble of it, and then as much again, and he never stopped till he had half the cup drunk. he fell asleep after that, and did not wake till it was night, and there was great hunger and great thirst on him. he had to wait, then, till the day rose; but he determined, as soon as he should wake in the morning, that he would go to the king's daughter and give her a drink of the juice of the herb. as soon as he got up in the morning, he went over to the priest's house with the drink in his hand, and he never felt himself so bold and valiant, and spirited and light, as he was that day, and he was quite certain that it was the drink he drank which made him so hearty. when he came to the house, he found the priest and the young lady within, and they were wondering greatly why he had not visited them for two days. he told them all his news, and said that he was certain that there was great power in that herb, and that it would do the lady no hurt, for he tried it himself and got good from it, and then he made her taste it, for he vowed and swore that there was no harm in it. guleesh handed her the cup, and she drank half of it, and then fell back on her bed and a heavy sleep came on her, and she never woke out of that sleep till the day on the morrow. guleesh and the priest sat up the entire night with her, waiting till she should awake, and they between hope and unhope, between expectation of saving her and fear of hurting her. she awoke at last when the sun had gone half its way through the heavens. she rubbed her eyes and looked like a person who did not know where she was. she was like one astonished when she saw guleesh and the priest in the same room with her, and she sat up doing her best to collect her thoughts. the two men were in great anxiety waiting to see would she speak, or would she not speak, and when they remained silent for a couple of minutes, the priest said to her: "did you sleep well, mary?" and she answered him: "i slept, thank you." no sooner did guleesh hear her talking than he put a shout of joy out of him, and ran over to her and fell on his two knees, and said: "a thousand thanks to god, who has given you back the talk; lady of my heart, speak again to me." the lady answered him that she understood it was he who boiled that drink for her, and gave it to her; that she was obliged to him from her heart for all the kindness he showed her since the day she first came to ireland, and that he might be certain that she never would forget it. guleesh was ready to die with satisfaction and delight. then they brought her food, and she ate with a good appetite, and was merry and joyous, and never left off talking with the priest while she was eating. after that guleesh went home to his house, and stretched himself on the bed and fell asleep again, for the force of the herb was not all spent, and he passed another day and a night sleeping. when he woke up he went back to the priest's house, and found that the young lady was in the same state, and that she was asleep almost since the time that he left the house. he went into her chamber with the priest, and they remained watching beside her till she awoke the second time, and she had her talk as well as ever, and guleesh was greatly rejoiced. the priest put food on the table again, and they ate together, and guleesh used after that to come to the house from day to day, and the friendship that was between him and the king's daughter increased, because she had no one to speak to except guleesh and the priest, and she liked guleesh best. so they married one another, and that was the fine wedding they had, and if i were to be there then, i would not be here now; but i heard it from a birdeen that there was neither cark nor care, sickness nor sorrow, mishap nor misfortune on them till the hour of their death, and may the same be with me, and with us all! the field of boliauns one fine day in harvest--it was indeed lady-day in harvest, that everybody knows to be one of the greatest holidays in the year--tom fitzpatrick was taking a ramble through the ground, and went along the sunny side of a hedge; when all of a sudden he heard a clacking sort of noise a little before him in the hedge. "dear me," said tom, "but isn't it surprising to hear the stonechatters singing so late in the season?" so tom stole on, going on the tops of his toes to try if he could get a sight of what was making the noise, to see if he was right in his guess. the noise stopped; but as tom looked sharply through the bushes, what should he see in a nook of the hedge but a brown pitcher, that might hold about a gallon and a half of liquor; and by-and-by a little wee teeny tiny bit of an old man, with a little _motty_ of a cocked hat stuck upon the top of his head, a deeshy daushy leather apron hanging before him, pulled out a little wooden stool, and stood up upon it, and dipped a little piggin into the pitcher, and took out the full of it, and put it beside the stool, and then sat down under the pitcher, and began to work at putting a heel-piece on a bit of a brogue just fit for himself. "well, by the powers," said tom to himself, "i often heard tell of the lepracauns, and, to tell god's truth, i never rightly believed in them--but here's one of them in real earnest. if i go knowingly to work, i'm a made man. they say a body must never take their eyes off them, or they'll escape." tom now stole on a little further, with his eye fixed on the little man just as a cat does with a mouse. so when he got up quite close to him, "god bless your work, neighbour," said tom. the little man raised up his head, and "thank you kindly," said he. "i wonder you'd be working on the holiday!" said tom. "that's my own business, not yours," was the reply. "well, may be you'd be civil enough to tell _us_ what you've got in the pitcher there?" said tom. "that i will, with pleasure," said he; "it's good beer." "beer!" said tom. "thunder and fire! where did you get it?" "where did i get it, is it? why, i made it. and what do you think i made it of?" "devil a one of me knows," said tom; "but of malt, i suppose, what else?" "there you're out. i made it of heath." "of heath!" said tom, bursting out laughing; "sure you don't think me to be such a fool as to believe that?" "do as you please," said he, "but what i tell you is the truth. did you never hear tell of the danes?" "well, what about _them_?" said tom. "why, all the about them there is, is that when they were here they taught us to make beer out of the heath, and the secret's in my family ever since." "will you give a body a taste of your beer?" said tom. "i'll tell you what it is, young man, it would be fitter for you to be looking after your father's property than to be bothering decent quiet people with your foolish questions. there now, while you're idling away your time here, there's the cows have broke into the oats, and are knocking the corn all about." tom was taken so by surprise with this that he was just on the very point of turning round when he recollected himself; so, afraid that the like might happen again, he made a grab at the lepracaun, and caught him up in his hand; but in his hurry he overset the pitcher, and spilt all the beer, so that he could not get a taste of it to tell what sort it was. he then swore that he would kill him if he did not show him where his money was. tom looked so wicked and so bloody-minded that the little man was quite frightened; so says he, "come along with me a couple of fields off, and i'll show you a crock of gold." so they went, and tom held the lepracaun fast in his hand, and never took his eyes from off him, though they had to cross hedges and ditches, and a crooked bit of bog, till at last they came to a great field all full of boliauns, and the lepracaun pointed to a big boliaun, and says he, "dig under that boliaun, and you'll get the great crock all full of guineas." tom in his hurry had never thought of bringing a spade with him, so he made up his mind to run home and fetch one; and that he might know the place again he took off one of his red garters, and tied it round the boliaun. then he said to the lepracaun, "swear ye'll not take that garter away from that boliaun." and the lepracaun swore right away not to touch it. "i suppose," said the lepracaun, very civilly, "you have no further occasion for me?" "no," says tom; "you may go away now, if you please, and god speed you, and may good luck attend you wherever you go." "well, good-bye to you, tom fitzpatrick," said the lepracaun; "and much good may it do you when you get it." so tom ran for dear life, till he came home and got a spade, and then away with him, as hard as he could go, back to the field of boliauns; but when he got there, lo and behold! not a boliaun in the field but had a red garter, the very model of his own, tied about it; and as to digging up the whole field, that was all nonsense, for there were more than forty good irish acres in it. so tom came home again with his spade on his shoulder, a little cooler than he went, and many's the hearty curse he gave the lepracaun every time he thought of the neat turn he had served him. the horned women a rich woman sat up late one night carding and preparing wool, while all the family and servants were asleep. suddenly a knock was given at the door, and a voice called, "open! open!" "who is there?" said the woman of the house. "i am the witch of one horn," was answered. the mistress, supposing that one of her neighbours had called and required assistance, opened the door, and a woman entered, having in her hand a pair of wool-carders, and bearing a horn on her forehead, as if growing there. she sat down by the fire in silence, and began to card the wool with violent haste. suddenly she paused, and said aloud: "where are the women? they delay too long." then a second knock came to the door, and a voice called as before, "open! open!" the mistress felt herself obliged to rise and open to the call, and immediately a second witch entered, having two horns on her forehead, and in her hand a wheel for spinning wool. "give me place," she said; "i am the witch of the two horns," and she began to spin as quick as lightning. and so the knocks went on, and the call was heard, and the witches entered, until at last twelve women sat round the fire--the first with one horn, the last with twelve horns. and they carded the thread, and turned their spinning-wheels, and wound and wove, all singing together an ancient rhyme, but no word did they speak to the mistress of the house. strange to hear, and frightful to look upon, were these twelve women, with their horns and their wheels; and the mistress felt near to death, and she tried to rise that she might call for help, but she could not move, nor could she utter a word or a cry, for the spell of the witches was upon her. then one of them called to her in irish, and said, "rise, woman, and make us a cake." then the mistress searched for a vessel to bring water from the well that she might mix the meal and make the cake, but she could find none. and they said to her, "take a sieve and bring water in it." and she took the sieve and went to the well; but the water poured from it, and she could fetch none for the cake, and she sat down by the well and wept. then a voice came by her and said, "take yellow clay and moss, and bind them together, and plaster the sieve so that it will hold." this she did, and the sieve held the water for the cake; and the voice said again: "return, and when thou comest to the north angle of the house, cry aloud three times and say, 'the mountain of the fenian women and the sky over it is all on fire.'" and she did so. when the witches inside heard the call, a great and terrible cry broke from their lips, and they rushed forth with wild lamentations and shrieks, and fled away to slievenamon, where was their chief abode. but the spirit of the well bade the mistress of the house to enter and prepare her home against the enchantments of the witches if they returned again. and first, to break their spells, she sprinkled the water in which she had washed her child's feet, the feet-water, outside the door on the threshold; secondly, she took the cake which in her absence the witches had made of meal mixed with the blood drawn from the sleeping family, and she broke the cake in bits, and placed a bit in the mouth of each sleeper, and they were restored; and she took the cloth they had woven, and placed it half in and half out of the chest with the padlock; and lastly, she secured the door with a great crossbeam fastened in the jambs, so that the witches could not enter, and having done these things she waited. not long were the witches in coming back, and they raged and called for vengeance. "open! open!" they screamed; "open, feet-water!" "i cannot," said the feet-water; "i am scattered on the ground, and my path is down to the lough." "open, open, wood and trees and beam!" they cried to the door. "i cannot," said the door, "for the beam is fixed in the jambs and i have no power to move." "open, open, cake that we have made and mingled with blood!" they cried again. "i cannot," said the cake, "for i am broken and bruised, and my blood is on the lips of the sleeping children." then the witches rushed through the air with great cries, and fled back to slievenamon, uttering strange curses on the spirit of the well, who had wished their ruin; but the woman and the house were left in peace, and a mantle dropped by one of the witches in her flight was kept hung up by the mistress in memory of that night; and this mantle was kept by the same family from generation to generation for five hundred years after. conall yellowclaw conall yellowclaw was a sturdy tenant in erin: he had three sons. there was at that time a king over every fifth of erin. it fell out for the children of the king that was near conall, that they themselves and the children of conall came to blows. the children of conall got the upper hand, and they killed the king's big son. the king sent a message for conall, and he said to him--"oh, conall! what made your sons go to spring on my sons till my big son was killed by your children? but i see that though i follow you revengefully, i shall not be much better for it, and i will now set a thing before you, and if you will do it, i will not follow you with revenge. if you and your sons will get me the brown horse of the king of lochlann, you shall get the souls of your sons." "why," said conall, "should not i do the pleasure of the king, though there should be no souls of my sons in dread at all. hard is the matter you require of me, but i will lose my own life, and the life of my sons, or else i will do the pleasure of the king." after these words conall left the king, and he went home: when he got home he was under much trouble and perplexity. when he went to lie down he told his wife the thing the king had set before him. his wife took much sorrow that he was obliged to part from herself, while she knew not if she should see him more. "oh, conall," said she, "why didst not thou let the king do his own pleasure to thy sons, rather than be going now, while i know not if ever i shall see thee more?" when he rose on the morrow, he set himself and his three sons in order, and they took their journey towards lochlann, and they made no stop but tore through ocean till they reached it. when they reached lochlann they did not know what they should do. said the old man to his sons, "stop ye, and we will seek out the house of the king's miller." when they went into the house of the king's miller, the man asked them to stop there for the night. conall told the miller that his own children and the children of his king had fallen out, and that his children had killed the king's son, and there was nothing that would please the king but that he should get the brown horse of the king of lochlann. "if you will do me a kindness, and will put me in a way to get him, for certain i will pay ye for it." "the thing is silly that you are come to seek," said the miller; "for the king has laid his mind on him so greatly that you will not get him in any way unless you steal him; but if you can make out a way, i will keep it secret." "this is what i am thinking," said conall, "since you are working every day for the king, you and your gillies could put myself and my sons into five sacks of bran." "the plan that has come into your head is not bad," said the miller. the miller spoke to his gillies, and he said to them to do this, and they put them in five sacks. the king's gillies came to seek the bran, and they took the five sacks with them, and they emptied them before the horses. the servants locked the door, and they went away. when they rose to lay hand on the brown horse, said conall, "you shall not do that. it is hard to get out of this; let us make for ourselves five hiding holes, so that if they hear us we may go and hide." they made the holes, then they laid hands on the horse. the horse was pretty well unbroken, and he set to making a terrible noise through the stable. the king heard the noise. "it must be my brown horse," said he to his gillies; "find out what is wrong with him." the servants went out, and when conall and his sons saw them coming they went into the hiding holes. the servants looked amongst the horses, and they did not find anything wrong; and they returned and they told this to the king, and the king said to them that if nothing was wrong they should go to their places of rest. when the gillies had time to be gone, conall and his sons laid their hands again on the horse. if the noise was great that he made before, the noise he made now was seven times greater. the king sent a message for his gillies again, and said for certain there was something troubling the brown horse. "go and look well about him." the servants went out, and they went to their hiding holes. the servants rummaged well, and did not find a thing. they returned and they told this. "that is marvellous for me," said the king: "go you to lie down again, and if i notice it again i will go out myself." when conall and his sons perceived that the gillies were gone, they laid hands again on the horse, and one of them caught him, and if the noise that the horse made on the two former times was great, he made more this time. "be this from me," said the king; "it must be that some one is troubling my brown horse." he sounded the bell hastily, and when his waiting-man came to him, he said to him to let the stable gillies know that something was wrong with the horse. the gillies came, and the king went with them. when conall and his sons perceived the company coming they went to the hiding holes. the king was a wary man, and he saw where the horses were making a noise. "be wary," said the king, "there are men within the stable, let us get at them somehow." the king followed the tracks of the men, and he found them. every one knew conall, for he was a valued tenant of the king of erin, and when the king brought them up out of the holes he said, "oh, conall, is it you that are here?" "i am, o king, without question, and necessity made me come. i am under thy pardon, and under thine honour, and under thy grace." he told how it happened to him, and that he had to get the brown horse for the king of erin, or that his sons were to be put to death. "i knew that i should not get him by asking, and i was going to steal him." "yes, conall, it is well enough, but come in," said the king. he desired his look-out men to set a watch on the sons of conall, and to give them meat. and a double watch was set that night on the sons of conall. "now, o conall," said the king, "were you ever in a harder place than to be seeing your lot of sons hanged tomorrow? but you set it to my goodness and to my grace, and say that it was necessity brought it on you, so i must not hang you. tell me any case in which you were as hard as this, and if you tell that, you shall get the soul of your youngest son." "i will tell a case as hard in which i was," said conall. "i was once a young lad, and my father had much land, and he had parks of year-old cows, and one of them had just calved, and my father told me to bring her home. i found the cow, and took her with us. there fell a shower of snow. we went into the herd's bothy, and we took the cow and the calf in with us, and we were letting the shower pass from us. who should come in but one cat and ten, and one great one-eyed fox-coloured cat as head bard over them. when they came in, in very deed i myself had no liking for their company. 'strike up with you,' said the head bard, 'why should we be still? and sing a cronan to conall yellowclaw.' i was amazed that my name was known to the cats themselves. when they had sung the cronan, said the head bard, 'now, o conall, pay the reward of the cronan that the cats have sung to thee.' 'well then,' said i myself, 'i have no reward whatsoever for you, unless you should go down and take that calf.' no sooner said i the word than the two cats and ten went down to attack the calf, and in very deed, he did not last them long. 'play up with you, why should you be silent? make a cronan to conall yellowclaw,' said the head bard. certainly i had no liking at all for the cronan, but up came the one cat and ten, and if they did not sing me a cronan then and there! 'pay them now their reward,' said the great fox-coloured cat. 'i am tired myself of yourselves and your rewards,' said i. 'i have no reward for you unless you take that cow down there.' they betook themselves to the cow, and indeed she did not last them long. "'why will you be silent? go up and sing a cronan to conall yellowclaw,' said the head bard. and surely, oh king, i had no care for them or for their cronan, for i began to see that they were not good comrades. when they had sung me the cronan they betook themselves down where the head bard was. 'pay now their reward, said the head bard; and for sure, oh king, i had no reward for them; and i said to them, 'i have no reward for you.' and surely, oh king, there was catterwauling between them. so i leapt out at a turf window that was at the back of the house. i took myself off as hard as i might into the wood. i was swift enough and strong at that time; and when i felt the rustling toirm of the cats after me i climbed into as high a tree as i saw in the place, and one that was close in the top; and i hid myself as well as i might. the cats began to search for me through the wood, and they could not find me; and when they were tired, each one said to the other that they would turn back. 'but,' said the one-eyed fox-coloured cat that was commander-in-chief over them, 'you saw him not with your two eyes, and though i have but one eye, there's the rascal up in the tree.' when he had said that, one of them went up in the tree, and as he was coming where i was, i drew a weapon that i had and i killed him. 'be this from me!' said the one-eyed one--'i must not be losing my company thus; gather round the root of the tree and dig about it, and let down that villain to earth.' on this they gathered about the tree, and they dug about the root, and the first branching root that they cut, she gave a shiver to fall, and i myself gave a shout, and it was not to be wondered at. "there was in the neighbourhood of the wood a priest, and he had ten men with him delving, and he said, 'there is a shout of a man in extremity and i must not be without replying to it.' and the wisest of the men said, 'let it alone till we hear it again.' the cats began again digging wildly, and they broke the next root; and i myself gave the next shout, and in very deed it was not a weak one. 'certainly,' said the priest, 'it is a man in extremity--let us move.' they set themselves in order for moving. and the cats arose on the tree, and they broke the third root, and the tree fell on her elbow. then i gave the third shout. the stalwart men hastened, and when they saw how the cats served the tree, they began at them with the spades; and they themselves and the cats began at each other, till the cats ran away. and surely, oh king, i did not move till i saw the last one of them off. and then i came home. and there's the hardest case in which i ever was; and it seems to me that tearing by the cats were harder than hanging to-morrow by the king of lochlann." "och! conall," said the king, "you are full of words. you have freed the soul of your son with your tale; and if you tell me a harder case than that you will get your second youngest son, and then you will have two sons." "well then," said conall, "on condition that thou dost that, i will tell thee how i was once in a harder case than to be in thy power in prison to-night." "let's hear," said the king. "i was then," said conall, "quite a young lad, and i went out hunting, and my father's land was beside the sea, and it was rough with rocks, caves, and rifts. when i was going on the top of the shore, i saw as if there were a smoke coming up between two rocks, and i began to look what might be the meaning of the smoke coming up there. when i was looking, what should i do but fall; and the place was so full of heather, that neither bone nor skin was broken. i knew not how i should get out of this. i was not looking before me, but i kept looking overhead the way i came--and thinking that the day would never come that i could get up there. it was terrible for me to be there till i should die. i heard a great clattering coming, and what was there but a great giant and two dozen of goats with him, and a buck at their head. and when the giant had tied the goats, he came up and he said to me, 'hao o! conall, it's long since my knife has been rusting in my pouch waiting for thy tender flesh.' 'och!' said i, 'it's not much you will be bettered by me, though you should tear me asunder; i will make but one meal for you. but i see that you are one-eyed. i am a good leech, and i will give you the sight of the other eye.' the giant went and he drew the great caldron on the site of the fire. i myself was telling him how he should heat the water, so that i should give its sight to the other eye. i got heather and i made a rubber of it, and i set him upright in the caldron. i began at the eye that was well, pretending to him that i would give its sight to the other one, till i left them as bad as each other; and surely it was easier to spoil the one that was well than to give sight to the other. "when he saw that he could not see a glimpse, and when i myself said to him that i would get out in spite of him, he gave a spring out of the water, and he stood in the mouth of the cave, and he said that he would have revenge for the sight of his eye. i had but to stay there crouched the length of the night, holding in my breath in such a way that he might not find out where i was. "when he felt the birds calling in the morning, and knew that the day was, he said--'art thou sleeping? awake and let out my lot of goats.' i killed the buck. he cried, 'i do believe that thou art killing my buck.' "'i am not,' said i, 'but the ropes are so tight that i take long to loose them.' i let out one of the goats, and there he was caressing her, and he said to her, 'there thou art thou shaggy, hairy white goat; and thou seest me, but i see thee not.' i kept letting them out by the way of one and one, as i flayed the buck, and before the last one was out i had him flayed bag-wise. then i went and i put my legs in place of his legs, and my hands in place of his forelegs, and my head in place of his head, and the horns on top of my head, so that the brute might think that it was the buck. i went out. when i was going out the giant laid his hand on me, and he said, 'there thou art, thou pretty buck; thou seest me, but i see thee not.' when i myself got out, and i saw the world about me, surely, oh, king! joy was on me. when i was out and had shaken the skin off me, i said to the brute, 'i am out now in spite of you.' "'aha!' said he, 'hast thou done this to me. since thou wert so stalwart that thou hast got out, i will give thee a ring that i have here; keep the ring, and it will do thee good.' "'i will not take the ring from you,' said i, 'but throw it, and i will take it with me.' he threw the ring on the flat ground, i went myself and i lifted the ring, and i put it on my finger. when he said me then, 'is the ring fitting thee?' i said to him, 'it is.' then he said, 'where art thou, ring?' and the ring said, 'i am here.' the brute went and went towards where the ring was speaking, and now i saw that i was in a harder case than ever i was. i drew a dirk. i cut the finger from off me, and i threw it from me as far as i could out on the loch, and there was a great depth in the place. he shouted, 'where art thou, ring?' and the ring said, 'i am here,' though it was on the bed of ocean. he gave a spring after the ring, and out he went in the sea. and i was as pleased then when i saw him drowning, as though you should grant my own life and the life of my two sons with me, and not lay any more trouble on me. "when the giant was drowned i went in, and i took with me all he had of gold and silver, and i went home, and surely great joy was on my people when i arrived. and as a sign now look, the finger is off me." "yes, indeed, conall, you are wordy and wise," said the king. "i see the finger is off you. you have freed your two sons, but tell me a case in which you ever were that is harder than to be looking on your son being hanged tomorrow, and you shall get the soul of your eldest son." "then went my father," said conall, "and he got me a wife, and i was married. i went to hunt. i was going beside the sea, and i saw an island over in the midst of the loch, and i came there where a boat was with a rope before her, and a rope behind her, and many precious things within her. i looked myself on the boat to see how i might get part of them. i put in the one foot, and the other foot was on the ground, and when i raised my head what was it but the boat over in the middle of the loch, and she never stopped till she reached the island. when i went out of the boat the boat returned where she was before. i did not know now what i should do. the place was without meat or clothing, without the appearance of a house on it. i came out on the top of a hill. then i came to a glen; i saw in it, at the bottom of a hollow, a woman with a child, and the child was naked on her knee, and she had a knife in her hand. she tried to put the knife to the throat of the babe, and the babe began to laugh in her face, and she began to cry, and she threw the knife behind her. i thought to myself that i was near my foe and far from my friends, and i called to the woman, 'what are you doing here?' and she said to me, 'what brought you here?' i told her myself word upon word how i came. 'well then,' said she, 'it was so i came also.' she showed me to the place where i should come in where she was. i went in, and i said to her, 'what was the matter that you were putting the knife on the neck of the child?' 'it is that he must be cooked for the giant who is here, or else no more of my world will be before me.' just then we could be hearing the footsteps of the giant, 'what shall i do? what shall i do?' cried the woman. i went to the caldron, and by luck it was not hot, so in it i got just as the brute came in. 'hast thou boiled that youngster for me?' he cried. 'he's not done yet,' said she, and i cried out from the caldron, 'mammy, mammy, it's boiling i am.' then the giant laughed out hai, haw, hogaraich, and heaped on wood under the caldron. "and now i was sure i would scald before i could get out of that. as fortune favoured me, the brute slept beside the caldron. there i was scalded by the bottom of the caldron. when she perceived that he was asleep, she set her mouth quietly to the hole that was in the lid, and she said to me 'was i alive?' i said i was. i put up my head, and the hole in the lid was so large, that my head went through easily. everything was coming easily with me till i began to bring up my hips. i left the skin of my hips behind me, but i came out. when i got out of the caldron i knew not what to do; and she said to me that there was no weapon that would kill him but his own weapon. i began to draw his spear and every breath that he drew i thought i would be down his throat, and when his breath came out i was back again just as far. but with every ill that befell me i got the spear loosed from him. then i was as one under a bundle of straw in a great wind for i could not manage the spear. and it was fearful to look on the brute, who had but one eye in the midst of his face; and it was not agreeable for the like of me to attack him. i drew the dart as best i could, and i set it in his eye. when he felt this he gave his head a lift, and he struck the other end of the dart on the top of the cave, and it went through to the back of his head. and he fell cold dead where he was; and you may be sure, oh king, that joy was on me. i myself and the woman went out on clear ground, and we passed the night there. i went and got the boat with which i came, and she was no way lightened, and took the woman and the child over on dry land; and i returned home." the king of lochlann's mother was putting on a fire at this time, and listening to conall telling the tale about the child. "is it you," said she, "that were there?" "well then," said he, "'twas i." "och! och!" said she, "'twas i that was there, and the king is the child whose life you saved; and it is to you that life thanks should be given." then they took great joy. the king said, "oh, conall, you came through great hardships. and now the brown horse is yours, and his sack full of the most precious things that are in my treasury." they lay down that night, and if it was early that conall rose, it was earlier than that that the queen was on foot making ready. he got the brown horse and his sack full of gold and silver and stones of great price, and then conall and his three sons went away, and they returned home to the erin realm of gladness. he left the gold and silver in his house, and he went with the horse to the king. they were good friends evermore. he returned home to his wife, and they set in order a feast; and that was a feast if ever there was one, oh son and brother. hudden and dudden and donald o'neary there was once upon a time two farmers, and their names were hudden and dudden. they had poultry in their yards, sheep on the uplands, and scores of cattle in the meadow-land alongside the river. but for all that they weren't happy. for just between their two farms there lived a poor man by the name of donald o'neary. he had a hovel over his head and a strip of grass that was barely enough to keep his one cow, daisy, from starving, and, though she did her best, it was but seldom that donald got a drink of milk or a roll of butter from daisy. you would think there was little here to make hudden and dudden jealous, but so it is, the more one has the more one wants, and donald's neighbours lay awake of nights scheming how they might get hold of his little strip of grass-land. daisy, poor thing, they never thought of; she was just a bag of bones. one day hudden met dudden, and they were soon grumbling as usual, and all to the tune of "if only we could get that vagabond donald o'neary out of the country." "let's kill daisy," said hudden at last; "if that doesn't make him clear out, nothing will." no sooner said than agreed, and it wasn't dark before hudden and dudden crept up to the little shed where lay poor daisy trying her best to chew the cud, though she hadn't had as much grass in the day as would cover your hand. and when donald came to see if daisy was all snug for the night, the poor beast had only time to lick his hand once before she died. well, donald was a shrewd fellow, and downhearted though he was, began to think if he could get any good out of daisy's death. he thought and he thought, and the next day you could have seen him trudging off early to the fair, daisy's hide over his shoulder, every penny he had jingling in his pockets. just before he got to the fair, he made several slits in the hide, put a penny in each slit, walked into the best inn of the town as bold as if it belonged to him, and, hanging the hide up to a nail in the wall, sat down. "some of your best whisky," says he to the landlord. but the landlord didn't like his looks. "is it fearing i won't pay you, you are?" says donald; "why i have a hide here that gives me all the money i want." and with that he hit it a whack with his stick and out hopped a penny. the landlord opened his eyes, as you may fancy. "what'll you take for that hide?" "it's not for sale, my good man." "will you take a gold piece?" "it's not for sale, i tell you. hasn't it kept me and mine for years?" and with that donald hit the hide another whack and out jumped a second penny. well, the long and the short of it was that donald let the hide go, and, that very evening, who but he should walk up to hudden's door? "good-evening, hudden. will you lend me your best pair of scales?" hudden stared and hudden scratched his head, but he lent the scales. when donald was safe at home, he pulled out his pocketful of bright gold and began to weigh each piece in the scales. but hudden had put a lump of butter at the bottom, and so the last piece of gold stuck fast to the scales when he took them back to hudden. if hudden had stared before, he stared ten times more now, and no sooner was donald's back turned, than he was of as hard as he could pelt to dudden's. "good-evening, dudden. that vagabond, bad luck to him--" "you mean donald o'neary?" "and who else should i mean? he's back here weighing out sackfuls of gold." "how do you know that?" "here are my scales that he borrowed, and here's a gold piece still sticking to them." off they went together, and they came to donald's door. donald had finished making the last pile of ten gold pieces. and he couldn't finish because a piece had stuck to the scales. in they walked without an "if you please" or "by your leave." "well, _i_ never!" that was all _they_ could say. "good-evening, hudden; good-evening, dudden. ah! you thought you had played me a fine trick, but you never did me a better turn in all your lives. when i found poor daisy dead, i thought to myself, 'well, her hide may fetch something;' and it did. hides are worth their weight in gold in the market just now." hudden nudged dudden, and dudden winked at hudden. "good-evening, donald o'neary." "good-evening, kind friends." the next day there wasn't a cow or a calf that belonged to hudden or dudden but her hide was going to the fair in hudden's biggest cart drawn by dudden's strongest pair of horses. when they came to the fair, each one took a hide over his arm, and there they were walking through the fair, bawling out at the top of their voices: "hides to sell! hides to sell!" out came the tanner: "how much for your hides, my good men?" "their weight in gold." "it's early in the day to come out of the tavern." that was all the tanner said, and back he went to his yard. "hides to sell! fine fresh hides to sell!" out came the cobbler. "how much for your hides, my men?" "their weight in gold." "is it making game of me you are! take that for your pains," and the cobbler dealt hudden a blow that made him stagger. up the people came running from one end of the fair to the other. "what's the matter? what's the matter?" cried they. "here are a couple of vagabonds selling hides at their weight in gold," said the cobbler. "hold 'em fast; hold 'em fast!" bawled the innkeeper, who was the last to come up, he was so fat. "i'll wager it's one of the rogues who tricked me out of thirty gold pieces yesterday for a wretched hide." it was more kicks than halfpence that hudden and dudden got before they were well on their way home again, and they didn't run the slower because all the dogs of the town were at their heels. well, as you may fancy, if they loved donald little before, they loved him less now. "what's the matter, friends?" said he, as he saw them tearing along, their hats knocked in, and their coats torn off, and their faces black and blue. "is it fighting you've been? or mayhap you met the police, ill luck to them?" "we'll police you, you vagabond. it's mighty smart you thought yourself, deluding us with your lying tales." "who deluded you? didn't you see the gold with your own two eyes?" but it was no use talking. pay for it he must, and should. there was a meal-sack handy, and into it hudden and dudden popped donald o'neary, tied him up tight, ran a pole through the knot, and off they started for the brown lake of the bog, each with a pole-end on his shoulder, and donald o'neary between. but the brown lake was far, the road was dusty, hudden and dudden were sore and weary, and parched with thirst. there was an inn by the roadside. "let's go in," said hudden; "i'm dead beat. it's heavy he is for the little he had to eat." if hudden was willing, so was dudden. as for donald, you may be sure his leave wasn't asked, but he was lumped down at the inn door for all the world as if he had been a sack of potatoes. "sit still, you vagabond," said dudden; "if we don't mind waiting, you needn't." donald held his peace, but after a while he heard the glasses clink, and hudden singing away at the top of his voice. "i won't have her, i tell you; i won't have her!" said donald. but nobody heeded what he said. "i won't have her, i tell you; i won't have her!" said donald, and this time he said it louder; but nobody heeded what he said. "i won't have her, i tell you; i won't have her!" said donald; and this time he said it as loud as he could. "and who won't you have, may i be so bold as to ask?" said a farmer, who had just come up with a drove of cattle, and was turning in for a glass. "it's the king's daughter. they are bothering the life out of me to marry her." "you're the lucky fellow. i'd give something to be in your shoes." "do you see that now! wouldn't it be a fine thing for a farmer to be marrying a princess, all dressed in gold and jewels?" "jewels, do you say? ah, now, couldn't you take me with you?" "well, you're an honest fellow, and as i don't care for the king's daughter, though she's as beautiful as the day, and is covered with jewels from top to toe, you shall have her. just undo the cord, and let me out; they tied me up tight, as they knew i'd run away from her." out crawled donald; in crept the farmer. "now lie still, and don't mind the shaking; it's only rumbling over the palace steps you'll be. and maybe they'll abuse you for a vagabond, who won't have the king's daughter; but you needn't mind that. ah! it's a deal i'm giving up for you, sure as it is that i don't care for the princess." "take my cattle in exchange," said the farmer; and you may guess it wasn't long before donald was at their tails driving them homewards. out came hudden and dudden, and the one took one end of the pole, and the other the other. "i'm thinking he's heavier," said hudden. "ah, never mind," said dudden; "it's only a step now to the brown lake." "i'll have her now! i'll have her now!" bawled the farmer, from inside the sack. "by my faith, and you shall though," said hudden, and he laid his stick across the sack. "i'll have her! i'll have her!" bawled the farmer, louder than ever. "well, here you are," said dudden, for they were now come to the brown lake, and, unslinging the sack, they pitched it plump into the lake. "you'll not be playing your tricks on us any longer," said hudden. "true for you," said dudden. "ah, donald, my boy, it was an ill day when you borrowed my scales." off they went, with a light step and an easy heart, but when they were near home, who should they see but donald o'neary, and all around him the cows were grazing, and the calves were kicking up their heels and butting their heads together. "is it you, donald?" said dudden. "faith, you've been quicker than we have." "true for you, dudden, and let me thank you kindly; the turn was good, if the will was ill. you'll have heard, like me, that the brown lake leads to the land of promise. i always put it down as lies, but it is just as true as my word. look at the cattle." hudden stared, and dudden gaped; but they couldn't get over the cattle; fine fat cattle they were too. "it's only the worst i could bring up with me," said donald o'neary; "the others were so fat, there was no driving them. faith, too, it's little wonder they didn't care to leave, with grass as far as you could see, and as sweet and juicy as fresh butter." "ah, now, donald, we haven't always been friends," said dudden, "but, as i was just saying, you were ever a decent lad, and you'll show us the way, won't you?" "i don't see that i'm called upon to do that; there is a power more cattle down there. why shouldn't i have them all to myself?" "faith, they may well say, the richer you get, the harder the heart. you always were a neighbourly lad, donald. you wouldn't wish to keep the luck all to yourself?" "true for you, hudden, though 'tis a bad example you set me. but i'll not be thinking of old times. there is plenty for all there, so come along with me." off they trudged, with a light heart and an eager step. when they came to the brown lake, the sky was full of little white clouds, and, if the sky was full, the lake was as full. "ah! now, look, there they are," cried donald, as he pointed to the clouds in the lake. "where? where?" cried hudden, and "don't be greedy!" cried dudden, as he jumped his hardest to be up first with the fat cattle. but if he jumped first, hudden wasn't long behind. they never came back. maybe they got too fat, like the cattle. as for donald o'neary, he had cattle and sheep all his days to his heart's content. the shepherd of myddvai up in the black mountains in caermarthenshire lies the lake known as lyn y van vach. to the margin of this lake the shepherd of myddvai once led his lambs, and lay there whilst they sought pasture. suddenly, from the dark waters of the lake, he saw three maidens rise. shaking the bright drops from their hair and gliding to the shore, they wandered about amongst his flock. they had more than mortal beauty, and he was filled with love for her that came nearest to him. he offered her the bread he had with him, and she took it and tried it, but then sang to him: hard-baked is thy bread, 'tis not easy to catch me, and then ran off laughing to the lake. next day he took with him bread not so well done, and watched for the maidens. when they came ashore he offered his bread as before, and the maiden tasted it and sang: unbaked is thy bread, i will not have thee, and again disappeared in the waves. a third time did the shepherd of myddvai try to attract the maiden, and this time he offered her bread that he had found floating about near the shore. this pleased her, and she promised to become his wife if he were able to pick her out from among her sisters on the following day. when the time came the shepherd knew his love by the strap of her sandal. then she told him she would be as good a wife to him as any earthly maiden could be unless he should strike her three times without cause. of course he deemed that this could never be; and she, summoning from the lake three cows, two oxen, and a bull, as her marriage portion, was led homeward by him as his bride. the years passed happily, and three children were born to the shepherd and the lake-maiden. but one day here were going to a christening, and she said to her husband it was far to walk, so he told her to go for the horses. "i will," said she, "if you bring me my gloves which i've left in the house." but when he came back with the gloves, he found she had not gone for the horses; so he tapped her lightly on the shoulder with the gloves, and said, "go, go." "that's one," said she. another time they were at a wedding, when suddenly the lake-maiden fell a-sobbing and a-weeping, amid the joy and mirth of all around her. her husband tapped her on the shoulder, and asked her, "why do you weep?" "because they are entering into trouble; and trouble is upon you; for that is the second causeless blow you have given me. be careful; the third is the last." the husband was careful never to strike her again. but one day at a funeral she suddenly burst out into fits of laughter. her husband forgot, and touched her rather roughly on the shoulder, saying, "is this a time for laughter?" "i laugh," she said, "because those that die go out of trouble, but your trouble has come. the last blow has been struck; our marriage is at an end, and so farewell." and with that she rose up and left the house and went to their home. then she, looking round upon her home, called to the cattle she had brought with her: brindle cow, white speckled, spotted cow, bold freckled, old white face, and gray geringer, and the white bull from the king's coast, grey ox, and black calf, all, all, follow me home, now the black calf had just been slaughtered, and was hanging on the hook; but it got off the hook alive and well and followed her; and the oxen, though they were ploughing, trailed the plough with them and did her bidding. so she fled to the lake again, they following her, and with them plunged into the dark waters. and to this day is the furrow seen which the plough left as it was dragged across the mountains to the tarn. only once did she come again, when her sons were grown to manhood, and then she gave them gifts of healing by which they won the name of meddygon myddvai, the physicians of myddvai. the sprightly tailor a sprightly tailor was employed by the great macdonald, in his castle at saddell, in order to make the laird a pair of trews, used in olden time. and trews being the vest and breeches united in one piece, and ornamented with fringes, were very comfortable, and suitable to be worn in walking or dancing. and macdonald had said to the tailor, that if he would make the trews by night in the church, he would get a handsome reward. for it was thought that the old ruined church was haunted, and that fearsome things were to be seen there at night. the tailor was well aware of this; but he was a sprightly man, and when the laird dared him to make the trews by night in the church, the tailor was not to be daunted, but took it in hand to gain the prize. so, when night came, away he went up the glen, about half a mile distance from the castle, till he came to the old church. then he chose him a nice gravestone for a seat and he lighted his candle, and put on his thimble, and set to work at the trews; plying his needle nimbly, and thinking about the hire that the laird would have to give him. for some time he got on pretty well, until he felt the floor all of a tremble under his feet; and looking about him, but keeping his fingers at work, he saw the appearance of a great human head rising up through the stone pavement of the church. and when the head had risen above the surface, there came from it a great, great voice. and the voice said: "do you see this great head of mine?" "i see that, but i'll sew this!" replied the sprightly tailor; and he stitched away at the trews. then the head rose higher up through the pavement, until its neck appeared. and when its neck was shown, the thundering voice came again and said: "do you see this great neck of mine?" "i see that, but i'll sew this!" said the sprightly tailor; and he stitched away at his trews. then the head and neck rose higher still, until the great shoulders and chest were shown above the ground. and again the mighty voice thundered: "do you see this great chest of mine?" and again the sprightly tailor replied: "i see that, but i'll sew this!" and stitched away at his trews. and still it kept rising through the pavement, until it shook a great pair of arms in the tailor's face, and said: "do you see these great arms of mine?" "i see those, but i'll sew this!" answered the tailor; and he stitched hard at his trews, for he knew that he had no time to lose. the sprightly tailor was taking the long stitches, when he saw it gradually rising and rising through the floor, until it lifted out a great leg, and stamping with it upon the pavement, said in a roaring voice: "do you see this great leg of mine?" "aye, aye: i see that, but i'll sew this!" cried the tailor; and his fingers flew with the needle, and he took such long stitches, that he was just come to the end of the trews, when it was taking up its other leg. but before it could pull it out of the pavement, the sprightly tailor had finished his task; and, blowing out his candle, and springing from off his gravestone, he buckled up, and ran out of the church with the trews under his arm. then the fearsome thing gave a loud roar, and stamped with both his feet upon the pavement, and out of the church he went after the sprightly tailor. down the glen they ran, faster than the stream when the flood rides it; but the tailor had got the start and a nimble pair of legs, and he did not choose to lose the laird's reward. and though the thing roared to him to stop, yet the sprightly tailor was not the man to be beholden to a monster. so he held his trews tight, and let no darkness grow under his feet, until he had reached saddell castle. he had no sooner got inside the gate, and shut it, than the apparition came up to it; and, enraged at losing his prize, struck the wall above the gate, and left there the mark of his five great fingers. ye may see them plainly to this day, if ye'll only peer close enough. but the sprightly tailor gained his reward: for macdonald paid him handsomely for the trews, and never discovered that a few of the stitches were somewhat long. the story of deirdre there was a man in ireland once who was called malcolm harper. the man was a right good man, and he had a goodly share of this world's goods. he had a wife, but no family. what did malcolm hear but that a soothsayer had come home to the place, and as the man was a right good man, he wished that the soothsayer might come near them. whether it was that he was invited or that he came of himself, the soothsayer came to the house of malcolm. "are you doing any soothsaying?" says malcolm. "yes, i am doing a little. are you in need of soothsaying?" "well, i do not mind taking soothsaying from you, if you had soothsaying for me, and you would be willing to do it." "well, i will do soothsaying for you. what kind of soothsaying do you want?" "well, the soothsaying i wanted was that you would tell me my lot or what will happen to me, if you can give me knowledge of it." "well, i am going out, and when i return, i will tell you." and the soothsayer went forth out of the house and he was not long outside when he returned. "well," said the soothsayer, "i saw in my second sight that it is on account of a daughter of yours that the greatest amount of blood shall be shed that has ever been shed in erin since time and race began. and the three most famous heroes that ever were found will lose their heads on her account." after a time a daughter was born to malcolm, he did not allow a living being to come to his house, only himself and the nurse. he asked this woman, "will you yourself bring up the child to keep her in hiding far away where eye will not see a sight of her nor ear hear a word about her?" the woman said she would, so malcolm got three men, and he took them away to a large mountain, distant and far from reach, without the knowledge or notice of any one. he caused there a hillock, round and green, to be dug out of the middle, and the hole thus made to be covered carefully over so that a little company could dwell there together. this was done. deirdre and her foster-mother dwelt in the bothy mid the hills without the knowledge or the suspicion of any living person about them and without anything occurring, until deirdre was sixteen years of age. deirdre grew like the white sapling, straight and trim as the rash on the moss. she was the creature of fairest form, of loveliest aspect, and of gentlest nature that existed between earth and heaven in all ireland--whatever colour of hue she had before, there was nobody that looked into her face but she would blush fiery red over it. the woman that had charge of her, gave deirdre every information and skill of which she herself had knowledge and skill. there was not a blade of grass growing from root, nor a bird singing in the wood, nor a star shining from heaven but deirdre had a name for it. but one thing, she did not wish her to have either part or parley with any single living man of the rest of the world. but on a gloomy winter night, with black, scowling clouds, a hunter of game was wearily travelling the hills, and what happened but that he missed the trail of the hunt, and lost his course and companions. a drowsiness came upon the man as he wearily wandered over the hills, and he lay down by the side of the beautiful green knoll in which deirdre lived, and he slept. the man was faint from hunger and wandering, and benumbed with cold, and a deep sleep fell upon him. when he lay down beside the green hill where deirdre was, a troubled dream came to the man, and he thought that he enjoyed the warmth of a fairy broch, the fairies being inside playing music. the hunter shouted out in his dream, if there was any one in the broch, to let him in for the holy one's sake. deirdre heard the voice and said to her foster-mother: "o foster-mother, what cry is that?" "it is nothing at all, deirdre--merely the birds of the air astray and seeking each other. but let them go past to the bosky glade. there is no shelter or house for them here." "oh, foster-mother, the bird asked to get inside for the sake of the god of the elements, and you yourself tell me that anything that is asked in his name we ought to do. if you will not allow the bird that is being benumbed with cold, and done to death with hunger, to be let in, i do not think much of your language or your faith. but since i give credence to your language and to your faith, which you taught me, i will myself let in the bird." and deirdre arose and drew the bolt from the leaf of the door, and she let in the hunter. she placed a seat in the place for sitting, food in the place for eating, and drink in the place for drinking for the man who came to the house. "oh, for this life and raiment, you man that came in, keep restraint on your tongue!" said the old woman. "it is not a great thing for you to keep your mouth shut and your tongue quiet when you get a home and shelter of a hearth on a gloomy winter's night." "well," said the hunter, "i may do that--keep my mouth shut and my tongue quiet, since i came to the house and received hospitality from you; but by the hand of thy father and grandfather, and by your own two hands, if some other of the people of the world saw this beauteous creature you have here hid away, they would not long leave her with you, i swear." "what men are these you refer to?" said deirdre. "well, i will tell you, young woman," said the hunter. "they are naois, son of uisnech, and allen and arden his two brothers." "what like are these men when seen, if we were to see them?" said deirdre. "why, the aspect and form of the men when seen are these," said the hunter: "they have the colour of the raven on their hair, their skin like swan on the wave in whiteness, and their cheeks as the blood of the brindled red calf, and their speed and their leap are those of the salmon of the torrent and the deer of the grey mountain side. and naois is head and shoulders over the rest of the people of erin." "however they are," said the nurse, "be you off from here and take another road. and, king of light and sun! in good sooth and certainty, little are my thanks for yourself or for her that let you in!" the hunter went away, and went straight to the palace of king connachar. he sent word in to the king that he wished to speak to him if he pleased. the king answered the message and came out to speak to the man. "what is the reason of your journey?" said the king to the hunter. "i have only to tell you, o king," said the hunter, "that i saw the fairest creature that ever was born in erin, and i came to tell you of it." "who is this beauty and where is she to be seen, when she was not seen before till you saw her, if you did see her?" "well, i did see her," said the hunter. "but, if i did, no man else can see her unless he get directions from me as to where she is dwelling." "and will you direct me to where she dwells? and the reward of your directing me will be as good as the reward of your message," said the king. "well, i will direct you, o king, although it is likely that this will not be what they want," said the hunter. connachar, king of ulster, sent for his nearest kinsmen, and he told them of his intent. though early rose the song of the birds mid the rocky caves and the music of the birds in the grove, earlier than that did connachar, king of ulster, arise, with his little troop of dear friends, in the delightful twilight of the fresh and gentle may; the dew was heavy on each bush and flower and stem, as they went to bring deirdre forth from the green knoll where she stayed. many a youth was there who had a lithe leaping and lissom step when they started whose step was faint, failing, and faltering when they reached the bothy on account of the length of the way and roughness of the road. "yonder, now, down in the bottom of the glen is the bothy where the woman dwells, but i will not go nearer than this to the old woman," said the hunter. connachar with his band of kinsfolk went down to the green knoll where deirdre dwelt and he knocked at the door of the bothy. the nurse replied, "no less than a king's command and a king's army could put me out of my bothy to-night. and i should be obliged to you, were you to tell who it is that wants me to open my bothy door." "it is i, connachar, king of ulster." when the poor woman heard who was at the door, she rose with haste and let in the king and all that could get in of his retinue. when the king saw the woman that was before him that he had been in quest of, he thought he never saw in the course of the day nor in the dream of night a creature so fair as deirdre and he gave his full heart's weight of love to her. deirdre was raised on the topmost of the heroes' shoulders and she and her foster-mother were brought to the court of king connachar of ulster. with the love that connachar had for her, he wanted to marry deirdre right off there and then, will she nill she marry him. but she said to him, "i would be obliged to you if you will give me the respite of a year and a day." he said "i will grant you that, hard though it is, if you will give me your unfailing promise that you will marry me at the year's end." and she gave the promise. connachar got for her a woman-teacher and merry modest maidens fair that would lie down and rise with her, that would play and speak with her. deirdre was clever in maidenly duties and wifely understanding, and connachar thought he never saw with bodily eye a creature that pleased him more. deirdre and her women companions were one day out on the hillock behind the house enjoying the scene, and drinking in the sun's heat. what did they see coming but three men a-journeying. deirdre was looking at the men that were coming, and wondering at them. when the men neared them, deirdre remembered the language of the huntsman, and she said to herself that these were the three sons of uisnech, and that this was naois, he having what was above the bend of the two shoulders above the men of erin all. the three brothers went past without taking any notice of them, without even glancing at the young girls on the hillock. what happened but that love for naois struck the heart of deirdre, so that she could not but follow after him. she girded up her raiment and went after the men that went past the base of the knoll, leaving her women attendants there. allen and arden had heard of the woman that connachar, king of ulster, had with him, and they thought that, if naois, their brother, saw her, he would have her himself, more especially as she was not married to the king. they perceived the woman coming, and called on one another to hasten their step as they had a long distance to travel, and the dusk of night was coming on. they did so. she cried: "naois, son of uisnech, will you leave me?" "what piercing, shrill cry is that--the most melodious my ear ever heard, and the shrillest that ever struck my heart of all the cries i ever heard?" "it is anything else but the wail of the wave-swans of connachar," said his brothers. "no! yonder is a woman's cry of distress," said naois, and he swore he would not go further until he saw from whom the cry came, and naois turned back. naois and deirdre met, and deirdre kissed naois three times, and a kiss each to his brothers. with the confusion that she was in, deirdre went into a crimson blaze of fire, and her colour came and went as rapidly as the movement of the aspen by the stream side. naois thought he never saw a fairer creature, and naois gave deirdre the love that he never gave to thing, to vision, or to creature but to herself. then naois placed deirdre on the topmost height of his shoulder, and told his brothers to keep up their pace, and they kept up their pace. naois thought that it would not be well for him to remain in erin on account of the way in which connachar, king of ulster, his uncle's son, had gone against him because of the woman, though he had not married her; and he turned back to alba, that is, scotland. he reached the side of loch-ness and made his habitation there. he could kill the salmon of the torrent from out his own door, and the deer of the grey gorge from out his window. naois and deirdre and allen and arden dwelt in a tower, and they were happy so long a time as they were there. by this time the end of the period came at which deirdre had to marry connachar, king of ulster. connachar made up his mind to take deirdre away by the sword whether she was married to naois or not. so he prepared a great and gleeful feast. he sent word far and wide through erin all to his kinspeople to come to the feast. connachar thought to himself that naois would not come though he should bid him; and the scheme that arose in his mind was to send for his father's brother, ferchar mac ro, and to send him on an embassy to naois. he did so; and connachar said to ferchar, "tell naois, son of uisnech, that i am setting forth a great and gleeful feast to my friends and kinspeople throughout the wide extent of erin all, and that i shall not have rest by day nor sleep by night if he and allen and arden be not partakers of the feast." ferchar mac ro and his three sons went on their journey, and reached the tower where naois was dwelling by the side of loch etive. the sons of uisnech gave a cordial kindly welcome to ferchar mac ro and his three sons, and asked of him the news of erin. "the best news that i have for you," said the hardy hero, "is that connachar, king of ulster, is setting forth a great sumptuous feast to his friends and kinspeople throughout the wide extent of erin all, and he has vowed by the earth beneath him, by the high heaven above him, and by the sun that wends to the west, that he will have no rest by day nor sleep by night if the sons of uisnech, the sons of his own father's brother, will not come back to the land of their home and the soil of their nativity, and to the feast likewise, and he has sent us on embassy to invite you." "we will go with you," said naois. "we will," said his brothers. but deirdre did not wish to go with ferchar mac ro, and she tried every prayer to turn naois from going with him--she said: "i saw a vision, naois, and do you interpret it to me," said deirdre--then she sang: o naois, son of uisnech, hear what was shown in a dream to me. there came three white doves out of the south flying over the sea, and drops of honey were in their mouth from the hive of the honey-bee. o naois, son of uisnech, hear, what was shown in a dream to me. i saw three grey hawks out of the south come flying over the sea, and the red red drops they bare in their mouth they were dearer than life to me. said naois:-- it is nought but the fear of woman's heart, and a dream of the night, deirdre. "the day that connachar sent the invitation to his feast will be unlucky for us if we don't go, o deirdre." "you will go there," said ferchar mac ro; "and if connachar show kindness to you, show ye kindness to him; and if he will display wrath towards you display ye wrath towards him, and i and my three sons will be with you." "we will," said daring drop. "we will," said hardy holly. "we will," said fiallan the fair. "i have three sons, and they are three heroes, and in any harm or danger that may befall you, they will be with you, and i myself will be along with them." and ferchar mac ro gave his vow and his word in presence of his arms that, in any harm or danger that came in the way of the sons of uisnech, he and his three sons would not leave head on live body in erin, despite sword or helmet, spear or shield, blade or mail, be they ever so good. deirdre was unwilling to leave alba, but she went with naois. deirdre wept tears in showers and she sang: dear is the land, the land over there, alba full of woods and lakes; bitter to my heart is leaving thee, but i go away with naois. ferchar mac ro did not stop till he got the sons of uisnech away with him, despite the suspicion of deirdre. the coracle was put to sea, the sail was hoisted to it; and the second morrow they arrived on the white shores of erin. as soon as the sons of uisnech landed in erin, ferchar mac ro sent word to connachar, king of ulster, that the men whom he wanted were come, and let him now show kindness to them. "well," said connachar, "i did not expect that the sons of uisnech would come, though i sent for them, and i am not quite ready to receive them. but there is a house down yonder where i keep strangers, and let them go down to it today, and my house will be ready before them tomorrow." but he that was up in the palace felt it long that he was not getting word as to how matters were going on for those down in the house of the strangers. "go you, gelban grednach, son of lochlin's king, go you down and bring me information as to whether her former hue and complexion are on deirdre. if they be, i will take her out with edge of blade and point of sword, and if not, let naois, son of uisnech, have her for himself," said connachar. gelban, the cheering and charming son of lochlin's king, went down to the place of the strangers, where the sons of uisnech and deirdre were staying. he looked in through the bicker-hole on the door-leaf. now she that he gazed upon used to go into a crimson blaze of blushes when any one looked at her. naois looked at deirdre and knew that some one was looking at her from the back of the door-leaf. he seized one of the dice on the table before him and fired it through the bicker-hole, and knocked the eye out of gelban grednach the cheerful and charming, right through the back of his head. gelban returned back to the palace of king connachar. "you were cheerful, charming, going away, but you are cheerless, charmless, returning. what has happened to you, gelban? but have you seen her, and are deirdre's hue and complexion as before?" said connachar. "well, i have seen deirdre, and i saw her also truly, and while i was looking at her through the bicker-hole on the door, naois, son of uisnech, knocked out my eye with one of the dice in his hand. but of a truth and verity, although he put out even my eye, it were my desire still to remain looking at her with the other eye, were it not for the hurry you told me to be in," said gelban. "that is true," said connachar; "let three hundred bravo heroes go down to the abode of the strangers, and let them bring hither to me deirdre, and kill the rest." connachar ordered three hundred active heroes to go down to the abode of the strangers and to take deirdre up with them and kill the rest. "the pursuit is coming," said deirdre. "yes, but i will myself go out and stop the pursuit," said naois. "it is not you, but we that will go," said daring drop, and hardy holly, and fiallan the fair; "it is to us that our father entrusted your defence from harm and danger when he himself left for home." and the gallant youths, full noble, full manly, full handsome, with beauteous brown locks, went forth girt with battle arms fit for fierce fight and clothed with combat dress for fierce contest fit, which was burnished, bright, brilliant, bladed, blazing, on which were many pictures of beasts and birds and creeping things, lions and lithe-limbed tigers, brown eagle and harrying hawk and adder fierce; and the young heroes laid low three-thirds of the company. connachar came out in haste and cried with wrath: "who is there on the floor of fight, slaughtering my men?" "we, the three sons of ferchar mac ro." "well," said the king, "i will give a free bridge to your grandfather, a free bridge to your father, and a free bridge each to you three brothers, if you come over to my side tonight." "well, connachar, we will not accept that offer from you nor thank you for it. greater by far do we prefer to go home to our father and tell the deeds of heroism we have done, than accept anything on these terms from you. naois, son of uisnech, and allen and arden are as nearly related to yourself as they are to us, though you are so keen to shed their blood, and you would shed our blood also, connachar." and the noble, manly, handsome youths with beauteous, brown locks returned inside. "we are now," said they, "going home to tell our father that you are now safe from the hands of the king." and the youths all fresh and tall and lithe and beautiful, went home to their father to tell that the sons of uisnech were safe. this happened at the parting of the day and night in the morning twilight time, and naois said they must go away, leave that house, and return to alba. naois and deirdre, allan and arden started to return to alba. word came to the king that the company he was in pursuit of were gone. the king then sent for duanan gacha druid, the best magician he had, and he spoke to him as follows:--"much wealth have i expended on you, duanan gacha druid, to give schooling and learning and magic mystery to you, if these people get away from me today without care, without consideration or regard for me, without chance of overtaking them, and without power to stop them." "well, i will stop them," said the magician, "until the company you send in pursuit return." and the magician placed a wood before them through which no man could go, but the sons of uisnech marched through the wood without halt or hesitation, and deirdre held on to naois's hand. "what is the good of that? that will not do yet," said connachar. "they are off without bending of their feet or stopping of their step, without heed or respect to me, and i am without power to keep up to them or opportunity to turn them back this night." "i will try another plan on them," said the druid; and he placed before them a grey sea instead of a green plain. the three heroes stripped and tied their clothes behind their heads, and naois placed deirdre on the top of his shoulder. they stretched their sides to the stream, and sea and land were to them the same, the rough grey ocean was the same as meadow-land green and plain. "though that be good, o duanan, it will not make the heroes return," said connachar; "they are gone without regard for me, and without honour to me, and without power on my part to pursue them or to force them to return this night." "we shall try another method on them, since yon one did not stop them," said the druid. and the druid froze the grey ridged sea into hard rocky knobs, the sharpness of sword being on the one edge and the poison power of adders on the other. then arden cried that he was getting tired, and nearly giving over. "come you, arden, and sit on my right shoulder," said naois. arden came and sat, on naois's shoulder. arden was long in this posture when he died; but though he was dead naois would not let him go. allen then cried out that he was getting faint and nigh-well giving up. when naois heard his prayer, he gave forth the piercing sigh of death, and asked allen to lay hold of him and he would bring him to land. allen was not long when the weakness of death came on him and his hold failed. naois looked around, and when he saw his two well-beloved brothers dead, he cared not whether he lived or died, and he gave forth the bitter sigh of death, and his heart burst. "they are gone," said duanan gacha druid to the king, "and i have done what you desired me. the sons of uisnech are dead and they will trouble you no more; and you have your wife hale and whole to yourself." "blessings for that upon you and may the good results accrue to me, duanan. i count it no loss what i spent in the schooling and teaching of you. now dry up the flood, and let me see if i can behold deirdre," said connachar. and duanan gacha druid dried up the flood from the plain and the three sons of uisnech were lying together dead, without breath of life, side by side on the green meadow plain and deirdre bending above showering down her tears. then deirdre said this lament: "fair one, loved one, flower of beauty; beloved upright and strong; beloved noble and modest warrior. fair one, blue-eyed, beloved of thy wife; lovely to me at the trysting-place came thy clear voice through the woods of ireland. i cannot eat or smile henceforth. break not to-day, my heart: soon enough shall i lie within my grave. strong are the waves of sorrow, but stronger is sorrow's self, connachar." the people then gathered round the heroes' bodies and asked connachar what was to be done with the bodies. the order that he gave was that they should dig a pit and put the three brothers in it side by side. deirdre kept sitting on the brink of the grave, constantly asking the gravediggers to dig the pit wide and free. when the bodies of the brothers were put in the grave, deirdre said:-- come over hither, naois, my love, let arden close to allen lie; if the dead had any sense to feel, ye would have made a place for deirdre. the men did as she told them. she jumped into the grave and lay down by naois, and she was dead by his side. the king ordered the body to be raised from out the grave and to be buried on the other side of the loch. it was done as the king bade, and the pit closed. thereupon a fir shoot grew out of the grave of deirdre and a fir shoot from the grave of naois, and the two shoots united in a knot above the loch. the king ordered the shoots to be cut down, and this was done twice, until, at the third time, the wife whom the king had married caused him to stop this work of evil and his vengeance on the remains of the dead. munachar and manachar there once lived a munachar and a manachar, a long time ago, and it is a long time since it was, and if they were alive now they would not be alive then. they went out together to pick raspberries, and as many as munachar used to pick manachar used to eat. munachar said he must go look for a rod to make a gad to hang manachar, who ate his raspberries every one; and he came to the rod. "what news the day?" said the rod. "it is my own news that i'm seeking. going looking for a rod, a rod to make a gad, a gad to hang manachar, who ate my raspberries every one." "you will not get me," said the rod, "until you get an axe to cut me." he came to the axe. "what news to-day?" said the axe. "it's my own news i'm seeking. going looking for an axe, an axe to cut a rod, a rod to make a gad, a gad to hang manachar, who ate my raspberries every one." "you will not get me," said the axe, "until you get a flag to edge me." he came to the flag. "what news today?" says the flag. "it's my own news i'm seeking. going looking for a flag, flag to edge axe, axe to cut a rod, a rod to make a gad, a gad to hang manachar, who ate my raspberries every one." "you will not get me," says the flag, "till you get water to wet me." he came to the water. "what news to-day?" says the water. "it's my own news that i'm seeking. going looking for water, water to wet flag, flag to edge axe, axe to cut a rod, a rod to make a gad, a gad to hang manachar, who ate my raspberries every one." "you will not get me," said the water, "until you get a deer who will swim me." he came to the deer. "what news to-day?" says the deer. "it's my own news i'm seeking. going looking for a deer, deer to swim water, water to wet flag, flag to edge axe, axe to cut a rod, a rod to make a gad, a gad to hang manachar, who ate my raspberries every one." "you will not get me," said the deer, "until you get a hound who will hunt me." he came to the hound. "what news to-day?" says the hound. "it's my own news i'm seeking. going looking for a hound, hound to hunt deer, deer to swim water, water to wet flag, flag to edge axe, axe to cut a rod, a rod to make a gad, a gad to hang manachar, who ate my raspberries every one." "you will not get me," said the hound, "until you get a bit of butter to put in my claw." he came to the butter. "what news to-day?" says the butter. "it's my own news i'm seeking. going looking for butter, butter to go in claw of hound, hound to hunt deer, deer to swim water, water to wet flag, flag to edge axe, axe to cut a rod, a rod to make a gad, a gad to hang manachar, who ate my raspberries every one." "you will not get me," said the butter, "until you get a cat who shall scrape me." he came to the cat. "what news to-day?" said the cat. "it's my own news i'm seeking. going looking for a cat, cat to scrape butter, butter to go in claw of hound, hound to hunt deer, deer to swim water, water to wet flag, flag to edge axe, axe to cut a rod, a rod to make a gad, gad to hang manachar, who ate my raspberries every one." "you will not get me," said the cat, "until you will get milk which you will give me." he came to the cow. "what news to-day?" said the cow. "it's my own news i'm seeking. going looking for a cow, cow to give me milk, milk i will give to the cat, cat to scrape butter, butter to go in claw of hound, hound to hunt deer, deer to swim water, water to wet flag, flag to edge axe, axe to cut a rod, a rod to make a gad, a gad to hang manachar, who ate my raspberries every one." "you will not get any milk from me," said the cow, "until you bring me a whisp of straw from those threshers yonder." he came to the threshers. "what news to-day?" said the threshers. "it's my own news i'm seeking. going looking for a whisp of straw from ye to give to the cow, the cow to give me milk, milk i will give to the cat, cat to scrape butter, butter to go in claw of hound, hound to hunt deer, deer to swim water, water to wet flag, flag to edge axe, axe to cut a rod, a rod to make a gad, a gad to hang manachar, who ate my raspberries every one." "you will not get any whisp of straw from us," said the threshers, "until you bring us the makings of a cake from the miller over yonder." he came to the miller. "what news to-day?" said the miller. "it's my own news i'm seeking. going looking for the makings of a cake which i will give to the threshers, the threshers to give me a whisp of straw, the whisp of straw i will give to the cow, the cow to give me milk, milk i will give to the cat, cat to scrape butter, butter to go in claw of hound, hound to hunt deer, deer to swim water, water to wet flag, flag to edge axe, axe to cut a rod, a rod to make a gad, a gad to hang manachar, who ate my raspberries every one." "you will not get any makings of a cake from me," said the miller, "till you bring me the full of that sieve of water from the river over there." he took the sieve in his hand and went over to the river, but as often as ever he would stoop and fill it with water, the moment he raised it the water would run out of it again, and sure, if he had been there from that day till this, he never could have filled it. a crow went flying by him, over his head. "daub! daub!" said the crow. "my blessings on ye, then," said munachar, "but it's the good advice you have," and he took the red clay and the daub that was by the brink, and he rubbed it to the bottom of the sieve, until all the holes were filled, and then the sieve held the water, and he brought the water to the miller, and the miller gave him the makings of a cake, and he gave the makings of the cake to the threshers, and the threshers gave him a whisp of straw, and he gave the whisp of straw to the cow, and the cow gave him milk, the milk he gave to the cat, the cat scraped the butter, the butter went into the claw of the hound, the hound hunted the deer, the deer swam the water, the water wet the flag, the flag sharpened the axe, the axe cut the rod, and the rod made a gad, and when he had it ready to hang manachar he found that manachar had burst. gold-tree and silver-tree once upon a time there was a king who had a wife, whose name was silver-tree, and a daughter, whose name was gold-tree. on a certain day of the days, gold-tree and silver-tree went to a glen, where there was a well, and in it there was a trout. said silver-tree, "troutie, bonny little fellow, am not i the most beautiful queen in the world?" "oh! indeed you are not." "who then?" "why, gold-tree, your daughter." silver-tree went home, blind with rage. she lay down on the bed, and vowed she would never be well until she could get the heart and the liver of gold-tree, her daughter, to eat. at nightfall the king came home, and it was told him that silver-tree, his wife, was very ill. he went where she was, and asked her what was wrong with her. "oh! only a thing--which you may heal if you like." "oh! indeed there is nothing at all which i could do for you that i would not do." "if i get the heart and the liver of gold-tree, my daughter, to eat, i shall be well." now it happened about this time that the son of a great king had come from abroad to ask gold-tree for marrying. the king now agreed to this, and they went abroad. the king then went and sent his lads to the hunting-hill for a he-goat, and he gave its heart and its liver to his wife to eat; and she rose well and healthy. a year after this silver-tree went to the glen, where there was the well in which there was the trout. "troutie, bonny little fellow," said she, "am not i the most beautiful queen in the world?" "oh! indeed you are not." "who then?" "why, gold-tree, your daughter." "oh! well, it is long since she was living. it is a year since i ate her heart and liver." "oh! indeed she is not dead. she is married to a great prince abroad." silver-tree went home, and begged the king to put the long-ship in order, and said, "i am going to see my dear gold-tree, for it is so long since i saw her." the long-ship was put in order, and they went away. it was silver-tree herself that was at the helm, and she steered the ship so well that they were not long at all before they arrived. the prince was out hunting on the hills. gold-tree knew the long-ship of her father coming. "oh!" said she to the servants, "my mother is coming, and she will kill me." "she shall not kill you at all; we will lock you in a room where she cannot get near you." this is how it was done; and when silver-tree came ashore, she began to cry out: "come to meet your own mother, when she comes to see you," gold-tree said that she could not, that she was locked in the room, and that she could not get out of it. "will you not put out," said silver-tree, "your little finger through the key-hole, so that your own mother may give a kiss to it?" she put out her little finger, and silver-tree went and put a poisoned stab in it, and gold-tree fell dead. when the prince came home, and found gold-tree dead, he was in great sorrow, and when he saw how beautiful she was, he did not bury her at all, but he locked her in a room where nobody would get near her. in the course of time he married again, and the whole house was under the hand of this wife but one room, and he himself always kept the key of that room. on a certain day of the days he forgot to take the key with him, and the second wife got into the room. what did she see there but the most beautiful woman that she ever saw. she began to turn and try to wake her, and she noticed the poisoned stab in her finger. she took the stab out, and gold-tree rose alive, as beautiful as she was ever. at the fall of night the prince came home from the hunting-hill, looking very downcast. "what gift," said his wife, "would you give me that i could make you laugh?" "oh! indeed, nothing could make me laugh, except gold-tree were to come alive again." "well, you'll find her alive down there in the room." when the prince saw gold-tree alive he made great rejoicings, and he began to kiss her, and kiss her, and kiss her. said the second wife, "since she is the first one you had it is better for you to stick to her, and i will go away." "oh! indeed you shall not go away, but i shall have both of you." at the end of the year, silver-tree went to the glen, where there was the well, in which there was the trout. "troutie, bonny little fellow," said she, "am not i the most beautiful queen in the world?" "oh! indeed you are not." "who then?" "why, gold-tree, your daughter." "oh! well, she is not alive. it is a year since i put the poisoned stab into her finger." "oh! indeed she is not dead at all, at all." silver-tree, went home, and begged the king to put the long-ship in order, for that she was going to see her dear gold-tree, as it was so long since she saw her. the long-ship was put in order, and they went away. it was silver-tree herself that was at the helm, and she steered the ship so well that they were not long at all before they arrived. the prince was out hunting on the hills. gold-tree knew her father's ship coming. "oh!" said she, "my mother is coming, and she will kill me." "not at all," said the second wife; "we will go down to meet her." silver-tree came ashore. "come down, gold-tree, love," said she, "for your own mother has come to you with a precious drink." "it is a custom in this country," said the second wife, "that the person who offers a drink takes a draught out of it first." silver-tree put her mouth to it, and the second wife went and struck it so that some of it went down her throat, and she fell dead. they had only to carry her home a dead corpse and bury her. the prince and his two wives were long alive after this, pleased and peaceful. i left them there. king o'toole and his goose och, i thought all the world, far and near, had heerd o' king o'toole--well, well, but the darkness of mankind is untellible! well, sir, you must know, as you didn't hear it afore, that there was a king, called king o'toole, who was a fine old king in the old ancient times, long ago; and it was he that owned the churches in the early days. the king, you see, was the right sort; he was the real boy, and loved sport as he loved his life, and hunting in particular; and from the rising o' the sun, up he got, and away he went over the mountains after the deer; and fine times they were. well, it was all mighty good, as long as the king had his health; but, you see, in course of time the king grew old, by raison he was stiff in his limbs, and when he got stricken in years, his heart failed him, and he was lost entirely for want o' diversion, because he couldn't go a-hunting no longer; and, by dad, the poor king was obliged at last to get a goose to divert him. oh, you may laugh, if you like, but it's truth i'm telling you; and the way the goose diverted him was this-a-way: you see, the goose used to swim across the lake, and go diving for trout, and catch fish on a friday for the king, and flew every other day round about the lake, diverting the poor king. all went on mighty well until, by dad, the goose got stricken in years like her master, and couldn't divert him no longer, and then it was that the poor king was lost entirely. the king was walkin' one mornin' by the edge of the lake, lamentin' his cruel fate, and thinking of drowning himself, that could get no diversion in life, when all of a sudden, turning round the corner, who should he meet but a mighty decent young man coming up to him. "god save you," says the king to the young man. "god save you kindly, king o'toole," says the young man. "true for you," says the king. "i am king o'toole," says he, "prince and plennypennytinchery of these parts," says he; "but how came ye to know that?" says he. "oh, never mind," says st. kavin. you see it was saint kavin, sure enough--the saint himself in disguise, and nobody else. "oh, never mind," says he, "i know more than that. may i make bold to ask how is your goose, king o'toole?" says he. "blur-an-agers, how came ye to know about my goose?" says the king. "oh, no matter; i was given to understand it," says saint kavin. after some more talk the king says, "what are you?" "i'm an honest man," says saint kavin. "well, honest man," says the king, "and how is it you make your money so aisy?" "by makin' old things as good as new," says saint kavin. "is it a tinker you are?" says the king. "no," says the saint; "i'm no tinker by trade, king o'toole; i've a better trade than a tinker," says he--"what would you say," says he, "if i made your old goose as good as new?" my dear, at the word of making his goose as good as new, you'd think the poor old king's eyes were ready to jump out of his head. with that the king whistled, and down came the poor goose, just like a hound, waddling up to the poor cripple, her master, and as like him as two peas. the minute the saint clapt his eyes on the goose, "i'll do the job for you," says he, "king o'toole." "by _jaminee_!" says king o'toole, "if you do, i'll say you're the cleverest fellow in the seven parishes." "oh, by dad," says st. kavin, "you must say more nor that--my horn's not so soft all out," says he, "as to repair your old goose for nothing; what'll you gi' me if i do the job for you?--that's the chat," says st. kavin. "i'll give you whatever you ask," says the king; "isn't that fair?" "divil a fairer," says the saint; "that's the way to do business. now," says he, "this is the bargain i'll make with you, king o'toole: will you gi' me all the ground the goose flies over, the first offer, after i make her as good as new?" "i will," says the king. "you won't go back o' your word?" says st. kavin. "honour bright!" says king o'toole, holding out his fist. "honour bright!" says st. kavin, back agin, "it's a bargain. come here!" says he to the poor old goose--"come here, you unfortunate ould cripple, and it's i that'll make you the sporting bird." with that, my dear, he took up the goose by the two wings--"criss o' my cross an you," says he, markin' her to grace with the blessed sign at the same minute--and throwing her up in the air, "whew," says he, jist givin' her a blast to help her; and with that, my jewel, she took to her heels, flyin' like one o' the eagles themselves, and cutting as many capers as a swallow before a shower of rain. well, my dear, it was a beautiful sight to see the king standing with his mouth open, looking at his poor old goose flying as light as a lark, and better than ever she was: and when she lit at his feet, patted her on the head, and "_ma vourneen_," says he, "but you are the _darlint_ o' the world." "and what do you say to me," says 'saint kavin, "for making her the like?" "by jabers," says the king, "i say nothing beats the art o' man, barring the bees." "and do you say no more nor that?" says saint kavin. "and that i'm beholden to you," says the king. "but will you gi'e me all the ground the goose flew over?" says saint kavin. "i will," says king o'toole, "and you're welcome to it," says he, "though it's the last acre i have to give." "but you'll keep your word true?" says the saint. "as true as the sun," says the king. "it's well for you, king o'toole, that you said that word," says he; "for if you didn't say that word, the devil the bit o' your goose would ever fly agin." when the king was as good as his word, saint kavin was pleased with him, and then it was that he made himself known to the king. "and," says he, "king o'toole, you're a decent man, for i only came here to try you. you don't know me," says he, "because i'm disguised." "musha! then," says the king, "who are you?" "i'm saint kavin," said the saint, blessing himself. "oh, queen of heaven!" says the king, making the sign of the cross between his eyes, and falling down on his knees before the saint; "is it the great saint kavin," says he, "that i've been discoursing all this time without knowing it," says he, "all as one as if he was a lump of a _gossoon_?--and so you're a saint?" says the king. "i am," says saint kavin. "by jabers, i thought i was only talking to a dacent boy," says the king. "well, you know the difference now," says the saint. "i'm saint kavin," says he, "the greatest of all the saints." and so the king had his goose as good as new, to divert him as long as he lived: and the saint supported him after he came into his property, as i told you, until the day of his death--and that was soon after; for the poor goose thought he was catching a trout one friday; but, my jewel, it was a mistake he made--and instead of a trout, it was a thieving horse-eel; and instead of the goose killing a trout for the king's supper--by dad, the eel killed the king's goose--and small blame to him; but he didn't ate her, because he darn't ate what saint kavin had laid his blessed hands on. the wooing of olwen shortly after the birth of kilhuch, the son of king kilyth, his mother died. before her death she charged the king that he should not take a wife again until he saw a briar with two blossoms upon her grave, and the king sent every morning to see if anything were growing thereon. after many years the briar appeared, and he took to wife the widow of king doged. she foretold to her stepson, kilhuch, that it was his destiny to marry a maiden named olwen, or none other, and he, at his father's bidding, went to the court of his cousin, king arthur, to ask as a boon the hand of the maiden. he rode upon a grey steed with shell-formed hoofs, having a bridle of linked gold, and a saddle also of gold. in his hand were two spears of silver, well-tempered, headed with steel, of an edge to wound the wind and cause blood to flow, and swifter than the fall of the dew-drop from the blade of reed grass upon the earth when the dew of june is at its heaviest. a gold-hilted sword was on his thigh, and the blade was of gold, having inlaid upon it a cross of the hue of the lightning of heaven. two brindled, white-breasted greyhounds, with strong collars of rubies, sported round him, and his courser cast up four sods with its four hoofs like four swallows about his head. upon the steed was a four-cornered cloth of purple, and an apple of gold was at each corner. precious gold was upon the stirrups and shoes, and the blade of grass bent not beneath them, so light was the courser's tread as he went towards the gate of king arthur's palace. arthur received him with great ceremony, and asked him to remain at the palace; but the youth replied that he came not to consume meat and drink, but to ask a boon of the king. then said arthur, "since thou wilt not remain here, chieftain, thou shalt receive the boon, whatsoever thy tongue may name, as far as the wind dries and the rain moistens, and the sun revolves, and the sea encircles, and the earth extends, save only my ships and my mantle, my sword, my lance, my shield, my dagger, and guinevere my wife." so kilhuch craved of him the hand of olwen, the daughter of yspathaden penkawr, and also asked the favour and aid of all arthur's court. then said arthur, "o chieftain, i have never heard of the maiden of whom thou speakest, nor of her kindred, but i will gladly send messengers in search of her." and the youth said, "i will willingly grant from this night to that at the end of the year to do so." then arthur sent messengers to every land within his dominions to seek for the maiden; and at the end of the year arthur's messengers returned without having gained any knowledge or information concerning olwen more than on the first day. then said kilhuch, "every one has received his boon, and i yet lack mine. i will depart and bear away thy honour with me." then said kay, "rash chieftain! dost thou reproach arthur? go with us, and we will not part until thou dost either confess that the maiden exists not in the world, or until we obtain her." thereupon kay rose up. kay had this peculiarity, that his breath lasted nine nights and nine days under water, and he could exist nine nights and nine days without sleep. a wound from kay's sword no physician could heal. very subtle was kay. when it pleased him he could render himself as tall as the highest tree in the forest. and he had another peculiarity--so great was the heat of his nature, that, when it rained hardest, whatever he carried remained dry for a handbreadth above and a handbreadth below his hand; and when his companions were coldest, it was to them as fuel with which to light their fire. and arthur called bedwyr, who never shrank from any enterprise upon which kay was bound. none was equal to him in swiftness throughout this island except arthur and drych ail kibthar. and although he was one-handed, three warriors could not shed blood faster than he on the field of battle. another property he had; his lance would produce a wound equal to those of nine opposing lances. and arthur called to kynthelig the guide. "go thou upon this expedition with the chieftain." for as good a guide was he in a land which he had never seen as he was in his own. he called gwrhyr gwalstawt ieithoedd, because he knew all tongues. he called gwalchmai, the son of gwyar, because he never returned home without achieving the adventure of which he went in quest. he was the best of footmen and the best of knights. he was nephew to arthur, the son of his sister, and his cousin. and arthur called menw, the son of teirgwaeth, in order that if they went into a savage country, he might cast a charm and an illusion over them, so that none might see them whilst they could see every one. they journeyed on till they came to a vast open plain, wherein they saw a great castle, which was the fairest in the world. but so far away was it that at night it seemed no nearer, and they scarcely reached it on the third day. when they came before the castle they beheld a vast flock of sheep, boundless and without end. they told their errand to the herdsman, who endeavoured to dissuade them, since none who had come thither on that quest had returned alive. they gave to him a gold ring, which he conveyed to his wife, telling her who the visitors were. on the approach of the latter, she ran out with joy to greet them, and sought to throw her arms about their necks. but kay, snatching a billet out of the pile, placed the log between her two hands, and she squeezed it so that it became a twisted coil. "o woman," said kay, "if thou hadst squeezed me thus, none could ever again have set their affections on me. evil love were this." they entered the house, and after meat she told them that the maiden olwen came there every saturday to wash. they pledged their faith that they would not harm her, and a message was sent to her. so olwen came, clothed in a robe of flame-coloured silk, and with a collar of ruddy gold, in which were emeralds and rubies, about her neck. more golden was her hair than the flower of the broom, and her skin was whiter than the foam of the wave, and fairer were her hands and her fingers than the blossoms of the wood anemone amidst the spray of the meadow fountain. brighter were her glances than those of a falcon; her bosom was more snowy than the breast of the white swan, her cheek redder than the reddest roses. whoso beheld was filled with her love. four white trefoils sprang up wherever she trod, and therefore was she called olwen. then kilhuch, sitting beside her on a bench, told her his love, and she said that he would win her as his bride if he granted whatever her father asked. accordingly they went up to the castle and laid their request before him. "raise up the forks beneath my two eyebrows which have fallen over my eyes," said yspathaden penkawr, "that i may see the fashion of my son-in-law." they did so, and he promised, them an answer on the morrow. but as they were going forth, yspathaden seized one of the three poisoned darts that lay beside him and threw it back after them. and bedwyr caught it and flung it back, wounding yspathaden in the knee. then said he, "a cursed ungentle son-in-law, truly. i shall ever walk the worse for his rudeness. this poisoned iron pains me like the bite of a gad-fly. cursed be the smith who forged it, and the anvil whereon it was wrought." the knights rested in the house of custennin the herdsman, but the next day at dawn they returned to the castle and renewed their request. yspathaden said it was necessary that he should consult olwen's four great-grandmothers and her four great-grand-sires. the knights again withdrew, and as they were going he took the second dart and cast it after them. but menw caught it and flung it back, piercing yspathaden's breast with it, so that it came out at the small of his back. "a cursed ungentle son-in-law, truly," says he, "the hard iron pains me like the bite of a horse-leech. cursed be the hearth whereon it was heated! henceforth whenever i go up a hill, i shall have a scant in my breath and a pain in my chest." on the third day the knights returned once more to the palace, and yspathaden took the third dart and cast it at them. but kilhuch caught it and threw it vigorously, and wounded him through the eyeball, so that the dart came out at the back of his head. "a cursed ungentle son-in-law, truly. as long as i remain alive my eyesight will be the worse. whenever i go against the wind my eyes will water, and peradventure my head will burn, and i shall have a giddiness every new moon. cursed be the fire in which it was forged. like the bite of a mad dog is the stroke of this poisoned iron." and they went to meat. said yspathaden penkawr, "is it thou that seekest my daughter?" "it is i," answered kilhuch. "i must have thy pledge that thou wilt not do towards me otherwise than is just, and when i have gotten that which i shall name, my daughter thou shalt have." "i promise thee that willingly," said kilhuch, "name what thou wilt." "i will do so," said he. "throughout the world there is not a comb or scissors with which i can arrange my hair, on, account of its rankness, except the comb and scissors that are between the two ears of turch truith, the son of prince tared. he will not give them of his own free will, and thou wilt not be able to compel him." "it will be easy for me to compass this, although thou mayest think that it will not be easy." "though thou get this, there is yet that which thou wilt not get. it will not be possible to hunt turch truith without drudwyn the whelp of greid, the son of eri, and know that throughout the world there is not a huntsman who can hunt with this dog, except mabon the son of modron. he was taken from his mother when three nights old, and it is not known where he now is, nor whether he is living or dead." "it will be easy for me to compass this, although thou mayest think that it will not be easy." "though thou get this, there is yet that which thou wilt not get. thou wilt not get mabon, for it is not known where he is, unless thou find eidoel, his kinsman in blood, the son of aer. for it would be useless to seek for him. he is his cousin." "it will be easy for me to compass this, although thou mayest think that it will not be easy. horses shall i have, and chivalry; and my lord and kinsman arthur will obtain for me all these things. and i shall gain thy daughter, and thou shalt lose thy life." "go forward. and thou shalt not be chargeable for food or raiment for my daughter while thou art seeking these things; and when thou hast compassed all these marvels, thou shalt have my daughter for wife." now, when they told arthur how they had sped, arthur said, "which of these marvels will it be best for us to seek first?" "it will be best," said they, "to seek mabon the son of modron; and he will not be found unless we first find eidoel, the son of aer, his kinsman." then arthur rose up, and the warriors of the islands of britain with him, to seek for eidoel; and they proceeded until they came before the castle of glivi, where eidoel was imprisoned. glivi stood on the summit of his castle, and said, "arthur, what requirest thou of me, since nothing remains to me in this fortress, and i have neither joy nor pleasure in it; neither wheat nor oats?" said arthur, "not to injure thee came i hither, but to seek for the prisoner that is with thee." "i will give thee my prisoner, though i had not thought to give him up to any one; and therewith shalt thou have my support and my aid." his followers then said unto arthur, "lord, go thou home, thou canst not proceed with thy host in quest of such small adventures as these." then said arthur, "it were well for thee, gwrhyr gwalstawt ieithoedd, to go upon this quest, for thou knowest all languages, and art familiar with those of the birds and the beasts. go, eidoel, likewise with my men in search of thy cousin. and as for you, kay and bedwyr, i have hope of whatever adventure ye are in quest of, that ye will achieve it. achieve ye this adventure for me." these went forward until they came to the ousel of cilgwri, and gwrhyr adjured her for the sake of heaven, saying, "tell me if thou knowest aught of mabon, the son of modron, who was taken when three nights old from between his mother and the wall." and the ousel answered, "when i first came here there was a smith's anvil in this place, and i was then a young bird, and from that time no work has been done upon it, save the pecking of my beak every evening, and now there is not so much as the size of a nut remaining thereof; yet the vengeance of heaven be upon me if during all that time i have ever heard of the man for whom you inquire. nevertheless, there is a race of animals who were formed before me, and i will be your guide to them." so they proceeded to the place where was the stag of redynvre. "stag of redynvre, behold we are come to thee, an embassy from arthur, for we have not heard of any animal older than thou. say, knowest thou aught of mabon?" the stag said, "when first i came hither there was a plain all around me, without any trees save one oak sapling, which grew up to be an oak with an hundred branches. and that oak has since perished, so that now nothing remains of it but the withered stump; and from that day to this i have been here, yet have i never heard of the man for whom you inquire. nevertheless, i will be your guide to the place where there is an animal which was formed before i was." so they proceeded to the place where was the owl of cwm cawlwyd, to inquire of him concerning mabon. and the owl said, "if i knew i would tell you. when first i came hither, the wide valley you see was a wooded glen. and a race of men came and rooted it up. and there grew there a second wood, and this wood is the third. my wings, are they not withered stumps? yet all this time, even until to-day, i have never heard of the man for whom you inquire. nevertheless, i will be the guide of arthur's embassy until you come to the place where is the oldest animal in this world, and the one who has travelled most, the eagle of gwern abwy." when they came to the eagle, gwrhyr asked it the same question; but it replied, "i have been here for a great space of time, and when i first came hither there was a rock here, from the top of which i pecked at the stars every evening, and now it is not so much as a span high. from that day to this i have been here, and i have never heard of the man for whom you inquire, except once when i went in search of food as far as llyn llyw. and when i came there, i struck my talons into a salmon, thinking he would serve me as food for a long time. but he drew me into the deep, and i was scarcely able to escape from him. after that i went with my whole kindred to attack him and to try to destroy him, but he sent messengers and made peace with me, and came and besought me to take fifty fish-spears out of his back. unless he know something of him whom you seek, i cannot tell you who may. however, i will guide you to the place where he is." so they went thither, and the eagle said, "salmon of llyn llyw, i have come to thee with an embassy from arthur to ask thee if thou knowest aught concerning mabon, the son of modron, who was taken away at three nights old from between his mother and the wall." and the salmon answered, "as much as i know i will tell thee. with every tide i go along the river upwards, until i come near to the walls of gloucester, and there have i found such wrong as i never found elsewhere; and to the end that ye may give credence thereto, let one of you go thither upon each of my two shoulders." so kay and gwrhyr went upon his shoulders, and they proceeded till they came to the wall of the prison, and they heard a great wailing and lamenting from the dungeon. said gwrhyr, "who is it that laments in this house of stone?" and the voice replied, "alas, it is mabon, the son of modron, who is here imprisoned!" then they returned and told arthur, who, summoning his warriors, attacked the castle. and whilst the fight was going on, kay and bedwyr, mounting on the shoulders of the fish, broke into the dungeon, and brought away with them mabon, the son of modron. then arthur summoned unto him all the warriors that were in the three islands of britain and in the three islands adjacent; and he went as far as esgeir ocrvel in ireland where the boar truith was with his seven young pigs. and the dogs were let loose upon him from all sides. but he wasted the fifth part of ireland, and then set forth through the sea to wales. arthur and his hosts, and his horses, and his dogs followed hard after him. but ever and awhile the boar made a stand, and many a champion of arthur's did he slay. throughout all wales did arthur follow him, and one by one the young pigs were killed. at length, when he would fain have crossed the severn and escaped into cornwall, mabon the son of modron came up with him, and arthur fell upon him together with the champions of britain. on the one side mabon the son of modron spurred his steed and snatched his razor from him, whilst kay came up with him on the other side and took from him the scissors. but before they could obtain the comb he had regained the ground with his feet, and from the moment that he reached the shore, neither dog nor man nor horse could overtake him until he came to cornwall. there arthur and his hosts followed in his track until they overtook him in cornwall. hard had been their trouble before, but it was child's play to what they met in seeking the comb. win it they did, and the boar truith they hunted into the deep sea, and it was never known whither he went. then kilhuch set forward, and as many as wished ill to yspathaden penkawr. and they took the marvels with them to his court. and kaw of north britain came and shaved his beard, skin and flesh clean off to the very bone from ear to ear. "art thou shaved, man?" said kilhuch. "i am shaved," answered he. "is thy daughter mine now?" "she is thine, but therefore needst thou not thank me, but arthur who hath accomplished this for thee. by my free will thou shouldst never have had her, for with her i lose my life." then goreu the son of custennin seized him by the hair of his head and dragged him after him to the keep, and cut off his head and placed it on a stake on the citadel. thereafter the hosts of arthur dispersed themselves each man to his own country. thus did kilhuch son of kelython win to wife olwen, the daughter of yspathaden penkawr. jack and his comrades once there was a poor widow, as often there has been, and she had one son. a very scarce summer came, and they didn't know how they'd live till the new potatoes would be fit for eating. so jack said to his mother one evening, "mother, bake my cake, and kill my hen, till i go seek my fortune; and if i meet it, never fear but i'll soon be back to share it with you." so she did as he asked her, and he set out at break of day on his journey. his mother came along with him to the yard gate, and says she, "jack, which would you rather have, half the cake and half the hen with my blessing, or the whole of 'em with my curse?" "o musha, mother," says jack, "why do you ax me that question? sure you know i wouldn't have your curse and damer's estate along with it." "well, then, jack," says she, "here's the whole lot of 'em with my thousand blessings along with them." so she stood on the yard fence and blessed him as far as her eyes could see him. well, he went along and along till he was tired, and ne'er a farmer's house he went into wanted a boy. at last his road led by the side of a bog, and there was a poor ass up to his shoulders near a big bunch of grass he was striving to come at. "ah, then, jack asthore," says he, "help me out or i'll be drowned." "never say't twice," says jack, and he pitched in big stones and sods into the slob, till the ass got good ground under him. "thank you, jack," says he, when he was out on the hard road; "i'll do as much for you another time. where are you going?" "faith, i'm going to seek my fortune till harvest comes in, god bless it!" "and if you like," says the ass, "i'll go along with you; who knows what luck we may have!" "with all my heart, it's getting late, let us be jogging." well, they were going through a village, and a whole army of gossoons were hunting a poor dog with a kettle tied to his tail. he ran up to jack for protection, and the ass let such a roar out of him, that the little thieves took to their heels as if the ould boy was after them. "more power to you, jack," says the dog. "i'm much obleeged to you: where is the baste and yourself going?" "we're going to seek our fortune till harvest comes in." "and wouldn't i be proud to go with you!" says the dog, "and get rid of them ill conducted boys; purshuin' to 'em." "well, well, throw your tail over your arm, and come along." they got outside the town, and sat down under an old wall, and jack pulled out his bread and meat, and shared with the dog; and the ass made his dinner on a bunch of thistles. while they were eating and chatting, what should come by but a poor half-starved cat, and the moll-row he gave out of him would make your heart ache. "you look as if you saw the tops of nine houses since breakfast," says jack; "here's a bone and something on it." "may your child never know a hungry belly!" says tom; "it's myself that's in need of your kindness. may i be so bold as to ask where yez are all going?" "we're going to seek our fortune till the harvest comes in, and you may join us if you like." "and that i'll do with a heart and a half," says the cat, "and thank'ee for asking me."' off they set again, and just as the shadows of the trees were three times as long as themselves, they heard a great cackling in a field inside the road, and out over the ditch jumped a fox with a fine black cock in his mouth. "oh, you anointed villain!" says the ass, roaring like thunder. "at him, good dog!" says jack, and the word wasn't out of his mouth when coley was in full sweep after the red dog. reynard dropped his prize like a hot potato, and was off like shot, and the poor cock came back fluttering and trembling to jack and his comrades. "o musha, naybours!" says he, "wasn't it the height o' luck that threw you in my way! maybe i won't remember your kindness if ever i find you in hardship; and where in the world are you all going?" "we're going to seek our fortune till the harvest comes in; you may join our party if you like, and sit on neddy's crupper when your legs and wings are tired." well, the march began again, and just as the sun was gone down they looked around, and there was neither cabin nor farm house in sight. "well, well," says jack, "the worse luck now the better another time, and it's only a summer night after all. we'll go into the wood, and make our bed on the long grass." no sooner said than done. jack stretched himself on a bunch of dry grass, the ass lay near him, the dog and cat lay in the ass's warm lap, and the cock went to roost in the next tree. well, the soundness of deep sleep was over them all, when the cock took a notion of crowing. "bother you, black cock!" says the ass: "you disturbed me from as nice a wisp of hay as ever i tasted. what's the matter?" "it's daybreak that's the matter: don't you see light yonder?" "i see a light indeed," says jack, "but it's from a candle it's coming, and not from the sun. as you've roused us we may as well go over, and ask for lodging." so they all shook themselves, and went on through grass, and rocks, and briars, till they got down into a hollow, and there was the light coming through the shadow, and along with it came singing, and laughing, and cursing. "easy, boys!" says jack: "walk on your tippy toes till we see what sort of people we have to deal with." so they crept near the window, and there they saw six robbers inside, with pistols, and blunderbushes, and cutlashes, sitting at a table, eating roast beef and pork, and drinking mulled beer, and wine, and whisky punch. "wasn't that a fine haul we made at the lord of dunlavin's!" says one ugly-looking thief with his mouth full, "and it's little we'd get only for the honest porter! here's his purty health!" "the porter's purty health!" cried out every one of them, and jack bent his finger at his comrades. "close your ranks, my men," says he in a whisper, "and let every one mind the word of command." so the ass put his fore-hoofs on the sill of the window, the dog got on the ass's head, the cat on the dog's head, and the cock on the cat's head. then jack made a sign, and they all sung out like mad. "hee-haw, hee-haw!" roared the ass; "bow-wow!" barked the dog; "meaw-meaw!" cried the cat; "cock-a-doodle-doo!" crowed the cock. "level your pistols!" cried jack, "and make smithereens of 'em. don't leave a mother's son of 'em alive; present, fire!" with that they gave another halloo, and smashed every pane in the window. the robbers were frightened out of their lives. they blew out the candles, threw down the table, and skelped out at the back door as if they were in earnest, and never drew rein till they were in the very heart of the wood. jack and his party got into the room, closed the shutters, lighted the candles, and ate and drank till hunger and thirst were gone. then they lay down to rest;--jack in the bed, the ass in the stable, the dog on the door-mat, the cat by the fire, and the cock on the perch. at first the robbers were very glad to find themselves safe in the thick wood, but they soon began to get vexed. "this damp grass is very different from our warm room," says one. "i was obliged to drop a fine pig's foot," says another. "i didn't get a tayspoonful of my last tumbler," says another. "and all the lord of dunlavin's gold and silver that we left behind!" says the last. "i think i'll venture back," says the captain, "and see if we can recover anything." "that's a good boy!" said they all, and away he went. the lights were all out, and so he groped his way to the fire, and there the cat flew in his face, and tore him with teeth and claws. he let a roar out of him, and made for the room door, to look for a candle inside. he trod on the dog's tail, and if he did, he got the marks of his teeth in his arms, and legs, and thighs. "thousand murders!" cried he; "i wish i was out of this unlucky house." when he got to the street door, the cock dropped down upon him with his claws and bill, and what the cat and dog done to him was only a flay-bite to what he got from the cock. "oh, tattheration to you all, you unfeeling vagabones!" says he, when he recovered his breath; and he staggered and spun round and round till he reeled into the stable, back foremost, but the ass received him with a kick on the broadest part of his small clothes, and laid him comfortably on the dunghill. when he came to himself, he scratched his head, and began to think what happened him; and as soon as he found that his legs were able to carry him, he crawled away, dragging one foot after another, till he reached the wood. "well, well," cried them all, when he came within hearing, "any chance of our property?" "you may say chance," says he, "and it's itself is the poor chance all out. ah, will any of you pull a bed of dry grass for me? all the sticking-plaster in enniscorthy will be too little for the cuts and bruises i have on me. ah, if you only knew what i have gone through for you! when i got to the kitchen fire, looking for a sod of lighted turf, what should be there but an old woman carding flax, and you may see the marks she left on my face with the cards. i made to the room door as fast as i could, and who should i stumble over but a cobbler and his seat, and if he did not work at me with his awls and his pinchers you may call me a rogue. well, i got away from him somehow, but when i was passing through the door, it must be the divel himself that pounced down on me with his claws, and his teeth, that were equal to sixpenny nails, and his wings--ill luck be in his road! well, at last i reached the stable, and there, by way of salute, i got a pelt from a sledge-hammer that sent me half a mile off. if you don't believe me, i'll give you leave to go and judge for yourselves." "oh, my poor captain," says they, "we believe you to the nines. catch us, indeed, going within a hen's race of that unlucky cabin!" well, before the sun shook his doublet next morning, jack and his comrades were up and about. they made a hearty breakfast on what was left the night before, and then they all agreed to set off to the castle of the lord of dunlavin, and give him back all his gold and silver. jack put it all in the two ends of a sack and laid it across neddy's back, and all took the road in their hands. away they went, through bogs, up hills, down dales, and sometimes along the yellow high road, till they came to the hall-door of the lord of dunlavin, and who should be there, airing his powdered head, his white stockings, and his red breeches, but the thief of a porter. he gave a cross look to the visitors, and says he to jack, "what do you want here, my fine fellow? there isn't room for you all." "we want," says jack, "what i'm sure you haven't to give us--and that is, common civility." "come, be off, you lazy strollers!" says he, "while a cat 'ud be licking her ear, or i'll let the dogs at you." "would you tell a body," says the cock that was perched on the ass's head, "who was it that opened the door for the robbers the other night?" ah! maybe the porter's red face didn't turn the colour of his frill, and the lord of dunlavin and his pretty daughter, that were standing at the parlour window unknownst to the porter, put out their heads. "i'd be glad, barney," says the master, "to hear your answer to the gentleman with the red comb on him." "ah, my lord, don't believe the rascal; sure i didn't open the door to the six robbers." "and how did you know there were six, you poor innocent?" said the lord. "never mind, sir," says jack, "all your gold and silver is there in that sack, and i don't think you will begrudge us our supper and bed after our long march from the wood of athsalach." "begrudge, indeed! not one of you will ever see a poor day if i can help it." so all were welcomed to their heart's content, and the ass and the dog and the cock got the best posts in the farmyard, and the cat took possession of the kitchen. the lord took jack in hands, dressed him from top to toe in broadcloth, and frills as white as snow, and turnpumps, and put a watch in his fob. when they sat down to dinner, the lady of the house said jack had the air of a born gentleman about him, and the lord said he'd make him his steward. jack brought his mother, and settled her comfortably near the castle, and all were as happy as you please. the shee an gannon and the gruagach gaire the shee an gannon was born in the morning, named at noon, and went in the evening to ask his daughter of the king of erin. "i will give you my daughter in marriage," said the king of erin; "you won't get her, though, unless you go and bring me back the tidings that i want, and tell me what it is that put a stop to the laughing of the gruagach gaire, who before this laughed always, and laughed so loud that the whole world heard him. there are twelve iron spikes out here in the garden behind my castle. on eleven of the spikes are the heads of kings' sons who came seeking my daughter in marriage, and all of them went away to get the knowledge i wanted. not one was able to get it and tell me what stopped the gruagach gaire from laughing. i took the heads off them all when they came back without the tidings for which they went, and i'm greatly in dread that your head'll be on the twelfth spike, for i'll do the same to you that i did to the eleven kings' sons unless you tell what put a stop to the laughing of the gruagach." the shee an gannon made no answer, but left the king and pushed away to know could he find why the gruagach was silent. he took a glen at a step, a hill at a leap, and travelled all day till evening. then he came to a house. the master of the house asked him what sort was he, and he said: "a young man looking for hire." "well," said the master of the house, "i was going tomorrow to look for a man to mind my cows. if you'll work for me, you'll have a good place, the best food a man could have to eat in this world, and a soft bed to lie on." the shee an gannon took service, and ate his supper. then the master of the house said: "i am the gruagach gaire; now that you are my man and have eaten your supper, you'll have a bed of silk to sleep on." next morning after breakfast the gruagach said to the shee an gannon: "go out now and loosen my five golden cows and my bull without horns, and drive them to pasture; but when you have them out on the grass, be careful you don't let them go near the land of the giant." the new cowboy drove the cattle to pasture, and when near the land of the giant, he saw it was covered with woods and surrounded by a high wall. he went up, put his back against the wall, and threw in a great stretch of it; then he went inside and threw out another great stretch of the wall, and put the five golden cows and the bull without horns on the land of the giant. then he climbed a tree, ate the sweet apples himself, and threw the sour ones down to the cattle of the gruagach gaire. soon a great crashing was heard in the woods,--the noise of young trees bending, and old trees breaking. the cowboy looked around and saw a five-headed giant pushing through the trees; and soon he was before him. "poor miserable creature!" said the giant; "but weren't you impudent to come to my land and trouble me in this way? you're too big for one bite, and too small for two. i don't know what to do but tear you to pieces." "you nasty brute," said the cowboy, coming down to him from the tree, "'tis little i care for you;" and then they went at each other. so great was the noise between them that there was nothing in the world but what was looking on and listening to the combat. they fought till late in the afternoon, when the giant was getting the upper hand; and then the cowboy thought that if the giant should kill him, his father and mother would never find him or set eyes on him again, and he would never get the daughter of the king of erin. the heart in his body grew strong at this thought. he sprang on the giant, and with the first squeeze and thrust he put him to his knees in the hard ground, with the second thrust to his waist, and with the third to his shoulders. "i have you at last; you're done for now!", said the cowboy. then he took out his knife, cut the five heads off the giant, and when he had them off he cut out the tongues and threw the heads over the wall. then he put the tongues in his pocket and drove home the cattle. that evening the gruagach couldn't find vessels enough in all his place to hold the milk of the five golden cows. but when the cowboy was on the way home with the cattle, the son of the king of tisean came and took the giant's heads and claimed the princess in marriage when the gruagach gaire should laugh. after supper the cowboy would give no talk to his master, but kept his mind to himself, and went to the bed of silk to sleep. on the morning the cowboy rose before his master, and the first words he said to the gruagach were: "what keeps you from laughing, you who used to laugh so loud that the whole world heard you?" "i'm sorry," said the gruagach, "that the daughter of the king of erin sent you here." "if you don't tell me of your own will, i'll make you tell me," said the cowboy; and he put a face on himself that was terrible to look at, and running through the house like a madman, could find nothing that would give pain enough to the gruagach but some ropes made of untanned sheepskin hanging on the wall. he took these down, caught the gruagach, fastened him by the three smalls, and tied him so that his little toes were whispering to his ears. when he was in this state the gruagach said: "i'll tell you what stopped my laughing if you set me free." so the cowboy unbound him, the two sat down together, and the gruagach said:-- "i lived in this castle here with my twelve sons. we ate, drank, played cards, and enjoyed ourselves, till one day when my sons and i were playing, a slender brown hare came rushing in, jumped on to the hearth, tossed up the ashes to the rafters and ran away. "on another day he came again; but if he did, we were ready for him, my twelve sons and myself. as soon as he tossed up the ashes and ran off, we made after him, and followed him till nightfall, when he went into a glen. we saw a light before us. i ran on, and came to a house with a great apartment, where there was a man named yellow face with twelve daughters, and the hare was tied to the side of the room near the women. "there was a large pot over the fire in the room, and a great stork boiling in the pot. the man of the house said to me: 'there are bundles of rushes at the end of the room, go there and sit down with your men!' "he went into the next room and brought out two pikes, one of wood, the other of iron, and asked me which of the pikes would i take. i said, 'i'll take the iron one;' for i thought in my heart that if an attack should come on me, i could defend myself better with the iron than the wooden pike. "yellow face gave me the iron pike, and the first chance of taking what i could out of the pot on the point of the pike. i got but a small piece of the stork, and the man of the house took all the rest on his wooden pike. we had to fast that night; and when the man and his twelve daughters ate the flesh of the stork, they hurled the bare bones in the faces of my sons and myself. we had to stop all night that way, beaten on the faces by the bones of the stork. "next morning, when we were going away, the man of the house asked me to stay a while; and going into the next room, he brought out twelve loops of iron and one of wood, and said to me: 'put the heads of your twelve sons into the iron loops, or your own head into the wooden one;' and i said: 'i'll put the twelve heads of my sons in the iron loops, and keep my own out of the wooden one.' "he put the iron loops on the necks of my twelve sons, and put the wooden one on his own neck. then he snapped the loops one after another, till he took the heads off my twelve sons and threw the heads and bodies out of the house; but he did nothing to hurt his own neck. "when he had killed my sons he took hold of me and stripped the skin and flesh from the small of my back down, and when he had done that he took the skin of a black sheep that had been hanging on the wall for seven years and clapped it on my body in place of my own flesh and skin; and the sheepskin grew on me, and every year since then i shear myself, and every bit of wool i use for the stockings that i wear i clip off my own back." when he had said this, the gruagach showed the cowboy his back covered with thick black wool. after what he had seen and heard, the cowboy said: "i know now why you don't laugh, and small blame to you. but does that hare come here still?" "he does indeed," said the gruagach. both went to the table to play, and they were not long playing cards when the hare ran in; and before they could stop him he was out again. but the cowboy made after the hare, and the gruagach after the cowboy, and they ran as fast as ever their legs could carry them till nightfall; and when the hare was entering the castle where the twelve sons of the gruagach were killed, the cowboy caught him by the two hind legs and dashed out his brains against the wall; and the skull of the hare was knocked into the chief room of the castle, and fell at the feet of the master of the place. "who has dared to interfere with my fighting pet?" screamed yellow face. "i," said the cowboy; "and if your pet had had manners, he might be alive now." the cowboy and the gruagach stood by the fire. a stork was boiling in the pot, as when the gruagach came the first time. the master of the house went into the next room and brought out an iron and a wooden pike, and asked the cowboy which would he choose. "i'll take the wooden one," said the cowboy; "and you may keep the iron one for yourself." so he took the wooden one; and going to the pot, brought out on the pike all the stork except a small bite, and he and the gruagach fell to eating, and they were eating the flesh of the stork all night. the cowboy and the gruagach were at home in the place that time. in the morning the master of the house went into the next room, took down the twelve iron loops with a wooden one, brought them out, and asked the cowboy which would he take, the twelve iron or the one wooden loop. "what could i do with the twelve iron ones for myself or my master? i'll take the wooden one." he put it on, and taking the twelve iron loops, put them on the necks of the twelve daughters of the house, then snapped the twelve heads off them, and turning to their father, said: "i'll do the same thing to you unless you bring the twelve sons of my master to life, and make them as well and strong as when you took their heads." the master of the house went out and brought the twelve to life again; and when the gruagach saw all his sons alive and as well as ever, he let a laugh out of himself, and all the eastern world heard the laugh. then the cowboy said to the gruagach: "it's a bad thing you have done to me, for the daughter of the king of erin will be married the day after your laugh is heard." "oh! then we must be there in time," said the gruagach; and they all made away from the place as fast as ever they could, the cowboy, the gruagach, and his twelve sons. they hurried on; and when within three miles of the king's castle there was such a throng of people that no one could go a step ahead. "we must clear a road through this," said the cowboy. "we must indeed," said the gruagach; and at it they went, threw the people some on one side and some on the other, and soon they had an opening for themselves to the king's castle. as they went in, the daughter of the king of erin and the son of the king of tisean were on their knees just going to be married. the cowboy drew his hand on the bride-groom, and gave a blow that sent him spinning till he stopped under a table at the other side of the room. "what scoundrel struck that blow?" asked the king of erin. "it was i," said the cowboy. "what reason had you to strike the man who won my daughter?" "it was i who won your daughter, not he; and if you don't believe me, the gruagach gaire is here himself. he'll tell you the whole story from beginning to end, and show you the tongues of the giant." so the gruagach came up and told the king the whole story, how the shee an gannon had become his cowboy, had guarded the five golden cows and the bull without horns, cut off the heads of the five-headed giant, killed the wizard hare, and brought his own twelve sons to life. "and then," said the gruagach, "he is the only man in the whole world i have ever told why i stopped laughing, and the only one who has ever seen my fleece of wool." when the king of erin heard what the gruagach said, and saw the tongues of the giant fitted in the head, he made the shee an gannon kneel down by his daughter, and they were married on the spot. then the son of the king of tisean was thrown into prison, and the next day they put down a great fire, and the deceiver was burned to ashes. the wedding lasted nine days, and the last day was better than the first. the story-teller at fault at the time when the tuatha de dannan held the sovereignty of ireland, there reigned in leinster a king, who was remarkably fond of hearing stories. like the other princes and chieftains of the island, he had a favourite story-teller, who held a large estate from his majesty, on condition of telling him a new story every night of his life, before he went to sleep. many indeed were the stories he knew, so that he had already reached a good old age without failing even for a single night in his task; and such was the skill he displayed that whatever cares of state or other annoyances might prey upon the monarch's mind, his story-teller was sure to send him to sleep. one morning the story-teller arose early, and as his custom was, strolled out into his garden turning over in his mind incidents which he might weave into a story for the king at night. but this morning he found himself quite at fault; after pacing his whole demesne, he returned to his house without being able to think of anything new or strange. he found no difficulty in "there was once a king who had three sons" or "one day the king of all ireland," but further than that he could not get. at length he went in to breakfast, and found his wife much perplexed at his delay. "why don't you come to breakfast, my dear?" said she. "i have no mind to eat anything," replied the story-teller; "long as i have been in the service of the king of leinster, i never sat down to breakfast without having a new story ready for the evening, but this morning my mind is quite shut up, and i don't know what to do. i might as well lie down and die at once. i'll be disgraced for ever this evening, when the king calls for his story-teller." just at this moment the lady looked out of the window. "do you see that black thing at the end of the field?" said she. "i do," replied her husband. they drew nigh, and saw a miserable looking old man lying on the ground with a wooden leg placed beside him. "who are you, my good man?" asked the story-teller. "oh, then, 'tis little matter who i am. i'm a poor, old, lame, decrepit, miserable creature, sitting down here to rest awhile." "an' what are you doing with that box and dice i see in your hand?" "i am waiting here to see if any one will play a game with me," replied the beggar man. "play with you! why what has a poor old man like you to play for?" "i have one hundred pieces of gold in this leathern purse," replied the old man. "you may as well play with him," said the story-teller's wife; "and perhaps you'll have something to tell the king in the evening." a smooth stone was placed between them, and upon it they cast their throws. it was but a little while and the story-teller lost every penny of his money. "much good may it do you, friend," said he. "what better hap could i look for, fool that i am!" "will you play again?" asked the old man. "don't be talking, man: you have all my money." "haven't you chariot and horses and hounds?" "well, what of them!" "i'll stake all the money i have against thine." "nonsense, man! do you think for all the money in ireland, i'd run the risk of seeing my lady tramp home on foot?" "maybe you'd win," said the bocough. "maybe i wouldn't," said the story-teller. "play with him, husband," said his wife. "i don't mind walking, if you do, love." "i never refused you before," said the story-teller, "and i won't do so now." down he sat again, and in one throw lost houses, hounds, and chariot. "will you play again?" asked the beggar. "are you making game of me, man; what else have i to stake?" "i'll stake all my winnings against your wife," said the old man. the story-teller turned away in silence, but his wife stopped him. "accept his offer," said she. "this is the third time, and who knows what luck you may have? you'll surely win now." they played again, and the story-teller lost. no sooner had he done so, than to his sorrow and surprise, his wife went and sat down near the ugly old beggar. "is that the way you're leaving me?" said the story-teller. "sure i was won," said she. "you would not cheat the poor man, would you?" "have you any more to stake?" asked the old man. "you know very well i have not," replied the story-teller. "i'll stake the whole now, wife and all, against your own self," said the old man. again they played, and again the story-teller lost. "well! here i am, and what do you want with me?" "i'll soon let you know," said the old man, and he took from his pocket a long cord and a wand. "now," said he to the story-teller, "what kind of animal would you rather be, a deer, a fox, or a hare? you have your choice now, but you may not have it later." to make a long story short, the story-teller made his choice of a hare; the old man threw the cord round him, struck him with the wand, and lo! a long-eared, frisking hare was skipping and jumping on the green. but it wasn't for long; who but his wife called the hounds, and set them on him. the hare fled, the dogs followed. round the field ran a high wall, so that run as he might, he couldn't get out, and mightily diverted were beggar and lady to see him twist and double. in vain did he take refuge with his wife, she kicked him back again to the hounds, until at length the beggar stopped the hounds, and with a stroke of the wand, panting and breathless, the story-teller stood before them again. "and how did you like the sport?" said the beggar. "it might be sport to others," replied the story-teller looking at his wife, "for my part i could well put up with the loss of it." "would it be asking too much," he went on to the beggar, "to know who you are at all, or where you come from, or why you take a pleasure in plaguing a poor old man like me?" "oh!" replied the stranger, "i'm an odd kind of good-for-little fellow, one day poor, another day rich, but if you wish to know more about me or my habits, come with me and perhaps i may show you more than you would make out if you went alone." "i'm not my own master to go or stay," said the story-teller, with a sigh. the stranger put one hand into his wallet and drew out of it before their eyes a well-looking middle-aged man, to whom he spoke as follows: "by all you heard and saw since i put you into my wallet, take charge of this lady and of the carriage and horses, and have them ready for me whenever i want them." scarcely had he said these words when all vanished, and the story-teller found himself at the foxes' ford, near the castle of red hugh o'donnell. he could see all but none could see him. o'donnell was in his hall, and heaviness of flesh and weariness of spirit were upon him. "go out," said he to his doorkeeper, "and see who or what may be coming." the doorkeeper went, and what he saw was a lank, grey beggarman; half his sword bared behind his haunch, his two shoes full of cold road-a-wayish water sousing about him, the tips of his two ears out through his old hat, his two shoulders out through his scant tattered cloak, and in his hand a green wand of holly. "save you, o'donnell," said the lank grey beggarman. "and you likewise," said o'donnell. "whence come you, and what is your craft?" "i come from the outmost stream of earth, from the glens where the white swans glide, a night in islay, a night in man, a night on the cold hillside." "it's the great traveller you are," said o'donnell. "maybe you've learnt something on the road." "i am a juggler," said the lank grey beggarman, "and for five pieces of silver you shall see a trick of mine." "you shall have them," said o'donnell; and the lank grey beggarman took three small straws and placed them in his hand. "the middle one," said he, "i'll blow away; the other two i'll leave." "thou canst not do it," said one and all. but the lank grey beggarman put a finger on either outside straw and, whiff, away he blew the middle one. "'tis a good trick," said o'donnell; and he paid him his five pieces of silver. "for half the money," said one of the chief's lads, "i'll do the same trick." "take him at his word, o'donnell." the lad put the three straws on his hand, and a finger on either outside straw and he blew; and what happened but that the fist was blown away with the straw. "thou art sore, and thou wilt be sorer," said o'donnell. "six more pieces, o'donnell, and i'll do another trick for thee," said the lank grey beggarman. "six shalt thou have." "seest thou my two ears! one i'll move but not t'other." "'tis easy to see them, they're big enough, but thou canst never move one ear and not the two together." the lank grey beggarman put his hand to his ear, and he gave it a pull. o'donnell laughed and paid him the six pieces. "call that a trick," said the fistless lad, "any one can do that," and so saying, he put up his hand, pulled his ear, and what happened was that he pulled away ear and head. "sore thou art; and sorer thou'lt be," said o'donnell. "well, o'donnell," said the lank grey beggarman, "strange are the tricks i've shown thee, but i'll show thee a stranger one yet for the same money." "thou hast my word for it," said o'donnell. with that the lank grey beggarman took a bag from under his armpit, and from out the bag a ball of silk, and he unwound the ball and he flung it slantwise up into the clear blue heavens, and it became a ladder; then he took a hare and placed it upon the thread, and up it ran; again he took out a red-eared hound, and it swiftly ran up after the hare. "now," said the lank grey beggarman; "has any one a mind to run after the dog and on the course?" "i will," said a lad of o'donnell's. "up with you then," said the juggler; "but i warn you if you let my hare be killed i'll cut off your head when you come down." the lad ran up the thread and all three soon disappeared. after looking up for a long time, the lank grey beggarman said: "i'm afraid the hound is eating the hare, and that our friend has fallen asleep." saying this he began to wind the thread, and down came the lad fast asleep; and down came the red-eared hound and in his mouth the last morsel of the hare. he struck the lad a stroke with the edge of his sword, and so cast his head off. as for the hound, if he used it no worse, he used it no better. "it's little i'm pleased, and sore i'm angered," said o'donnell, "that a hound and a lad should be killed at my court." "five pieces of silver twice over for each of them," said the juggler, "and their heads shall be on them as before." "thou shalt get that," said o'donnell. five pieces, and again five were paid him, and lo! the lad had his head and the hound his. and though they lived to the uttermost end of time, the hound would never touch a hare again, and the lad took good care to keep his eyes open. scarcely had the lank grey beggarman done this when he vanished from out their sight, and no one present could say if he had flown through the air or if the earth had swallowed him up. he moved as wave tumbling o'er wave as whirlwind following whirlwind, as a furious wintry blast, so swiftly, sprucely, cheerily, right proudly, and no stop made until he came to the court of leinster's king, he gave a cheery light leap o'er top of turret, of court and city of leinster's king. heavy was the flesh and weary the spirit of leinster's king. 'twas the hour he was wont to hear a story, but send he might right and left, not a jot of tidings about the story-teller could he get. "go to the door," said he to his doorkeeper, "and see if a soul is in sight who may tell me something about my story-teller." the doorkeeper went, and what he saw was a lank grey beggarman, half his sword bared behind his haunch, his two old shoes full of cold road-a-wayish water sousing about him, the tips of his two ears out through his old hat, his two shoulders out through his scant tattered cloak, and in his hand a three-stringed harp. "what canst thou do?" said the doorkeeper. "i can play," said the lank grey beggarman. "never fear," added he to the story-teller, "thou shalt see all, and not a man shall see thee." when the king heard a harper was outside, he bade him in. "it is i that have the best harpers in the five-fifths of ireland," said he, and he signed them to play. they did so, and if they played, the lank grey beggarman listened. "heardst thou ever the like?" said the king. "did you ever, o king, hear a cat purring over a bowl of broth, or the buzzing of beetles in the twilight, or a shrill tongued old woman scolding your head off?" "that i have often," said the king. "more melodious to me," said the lank grey beggarman, "were the worst of these sounds than the sweetest harping of thy harpers." when the harpers heard this, they drew their swords and rushed at him, but instead of striking him, their blows fell on each other, and soon not a man but was cracking his neighbour's skull and getting his own cracked in turn. when the king saw this, he thought it hard the harpers weren't content with murdering their music, but must needs murder each other. "hang the fellow who began it all," said he; "and if i can't have a story, let me have peace." up came the guards, seized the lank grey beggarman, marched him to the gallows and hanged him high and dry. back they marched to the hall, and who should they see but the lank grey beggarman seated on a bench with his mouth to a flagon of ale. "never welcome you in," cried the captain of the guard, "didn't we hang you this minute, and what brings you here?" "is it me myself, you mean?" "who else?" said the captain. "may your hand turn into a pig's foot with you when you think of tying the rope; why should you speak of hanging me?" back they scurried to the gallows, and there hung the king's favourite brother. back they hurried to the king who had fallen fast asleep. "please your majesty," said the captain, "we hanged that strolling vagabond, but here he is back again as well as ever." "hang him again," said the king, and off he went to sleep once more. they did as they were told, but what happened was that they found the king's chief harper hanging where the lank grey beggarman should have been. the captain of the guard was sorely puzzled. "are you wishful to hang me a third time?" said the lank grey beggarman. "go where you will," said the captain, "and as fast as you please if you'll only go far enough. it's trouble enough you've given us already." "now you're reasonable," said the beggarman; "and since you've given up trying to hang a stranger because he finds fault with your music, i don't mind telling you that if you go back to the gallows you'll find your friends sitting on the sward none the worse for what has happened." as he said these words he vanished; and the story-teller found himself on the spot where they first met, and where his wife still was with the carriage and horses. "now," said the lank grey beggarman, "i'll torment you no longer. there's your carriage and your horses, and your money and your wife; do what you please with them." "for my carriage and my houses and my hounds," said the story-teller, "i thank you; but my wife and my money you may keep." "no," said the other. "i want neither, and as for your wife, don't think ill of her for what she did, she couldn't help it." "not help it! not help kicking me into the mouth of my own hounds! not help casting me off for the sake of a beggarly old--" "i'm not as beggarly or as old as ye think. i am angus of the bruff; many a good turn you've done me with the king of leinster. this morning my magic told me the difficulty you were in, and i made up my mind to get you out of it. as for your wife there, the power that changed your body changed her mind. forget and forgive as man and wife should do, and now you have a story for the king of leinster when he calls for one;" and with that he disappeared. it's true enough he now had a story fit for a king. from first to last he told all that had befallen him; so long and loud laughed the king that he couldn't go to sleep at all. and he told the story-teller never to trouble for fresh stories, but every night as long as he lived he listened again and he laughed afresh at the tale of the lank grey beggarman. the sea-maiden there was once a poor old fisherman, and one year he was not getting much fish. on a day of days, while he was fishing, there rose a sea-maiden at the side of his boat, and she asked him, "are you getting much fish?" the old man answered and said, "not i." "what reward would you give me for sending plenty of fish to you?" "ach!" said the old man, "i have not much to spare." "will you give me the first son you have?" said she. "i would give ye that, were i to have a son," said he. "then go home, and remember me when your son is twenty years of age, and you yourself will get plenty of fish after this." everything happened as the sea-maiden said, and he himself got plenty of fish; but when the end of the twenty years was nearing, the old man was growing more and more sorrowful and heavy hearted, while he counted each day as it came. he had rest neither day nor night. the son asked his father one day, "is any one troubling you?" the old man said, "some one is, but that's nought to do with you nor any one else." the lad said, "i must know what it is." his father told him at last how the matter was with him and the sea-maiden. "let not that put you in any trouble," said the son; "i will not oppose you." "you shall not; you shall not go, my son, though i never get fish any more." "if you will not let me go with you, go to the smithy, and let the smith make me a great strong sword, and i will go seek my fortune." his father went to the smithy, and the smith made a doughty sword for him. his father came home with the sword. the lad grasped it and gave it a shake or two, and it flew into a hundred splinters. he asked his father to go to the smithy and get him another sword in which there should be twice as much weight; and so his father did, and so likewise it happened to the next sword--it broke in two halves. back went the old man to the smithy; and the smith made a great sword, its like he never made before. "there's thy sword for thee," said the smith, "and the fist must be good that plays this blade." the old man gave the sword to his son; he gave it a shake or two. "this will do," said he; "it's high time now to travel on my way." on the next morning he put a saddle on a black horse that his father had, and he took the world for his pillow. when he went on a bit, he fell in with the carcass of a sheep beside the road. and there were a great black dog, a falcon, and an otter, and they were quarrelling over the spoil. so they asked him to divide it for them. he came down off the horse, and he divided the carcass amongst the three. three shares to the dog, two shares to the otter, and a share to the falcon. "for this," said the dog, "if swiftness of foot or sharpness of tooth will give thee aid, mind me, and i will be at thy side." said the otter, "if the swimming of foot on the ground of a pool will loose thee, mind me, and i will be at thy side." said the falcon, "if hardship comes on thee, where swiftness of wing or crook of a claw will do good, mind me, and i will be at thy side." on this he went onward till he reached a king's house, and he took service to be a herd, and his wages were to be according to the milk of the cattle. he went away with the cattle, and the grazing was but bare. in the evening when he took them home they had not much milk, the place was so bare, and his meat and drink was but spare that night. on the next day he went on further with them; and at last he came to a place exceedingly grassy, in a green glen, of which he never saw the like. but about the time when he should drive the cattle homewards, who should he see coming but a great giant with his sword in his hand? "hi! ho!! hogarach!!!" says the giant. "those cattle are mine; they are on my land, and a dead man art thou." "i say not that," says the herd; "there is no knowing, but that may be easier to say than to do." he drew the great clean-sweeping sword, and he neared the giant. the herd drew back his sword, and the head was off the giant in a twinkling. he leaped on the black horse, and he went to look for the giant's house. in went the herd, and that's the place where there was money in plenty, and dresses of each kind in the wardrobe with gold and silver, and each thing finer than the other. at the mouth of night he took himself to the king's house, but he took not a thing from the giant's house. and when the cattle were milked this night there _was_ milk. he got good feeding this night, meat and drink without stint, and the king was hugely pleased that he had caught such a herd. he went on for a time in this way, but at last the glen grew bare of grass, and the grazing was not so good. so he thought he would go a little further forward in on the giant's land; and he sees a great park of grass. he returned for the cattle, and he put them into the park. they were but a short time grazing in the park when a great wild giant came full of rage and madness. "hi! haw!! hogaraich!!!" said the giant. "it is a drink of thy blood that will quench my thirst this night." "there is no knowing," said the herd, "but that's easier to say than to do." and at each other went the men. _there_ was shaking of blades! at length and at last it seemed as if the giant would get the victory over the herd. then he called on the dog, and with one spring the black dog caught the giant by the neck, and swiftly the herd struck off his head. he went home very tired this night, but it's a wonder if the king's cattle had not milk. the whole family was delighted that they had got such a herd. next day he betakes himself to the castle. when he reached the door, a little flattering carlin met him standing in the door. "all hail and good luck to thee, fisher's son; 'tis i myself am pleased to see thee; great is the honour for this kingdom, for thy like to be come into it--thy coming in is fame for this little bothy; go in first; honour to the gentles; go on, and take breath." "in before me, thou crone; i like not flattery out of doors; go in and let's hear thy speech." in went the crone, and when her back was to him he drew his sword and whips her head off; but the sword flew out of his hand. and swift the crone gripped her head with both hands, and puts it on her neck as it was before. the dog sprung on the crone, and she struck the generous dog with the club of magic; and there he lay. but the herd struggled for a hold of the club of magic, and with one blow on the top of the head she was on earth in the twinkling of an eye. he went forward, up a little, and there was spoil! gold and silver, and each thing more precious than another, in the crone's castle. he went back to the king's house, and then there was rejoicing. he followed herding in this way for a time; but one night after he came home, instead of getting "all hail" and "good luck" from the dairymaid, all were at crying and woe. he asked what cause of woe there was that night. the dairymaid said "there is a great beast with three heads in the loch, and it must get some one every year, and the lot had come this year on the king's daughter, and at midday to-morrow she is to meet the laidly beast at the upper end of the loch, but there is a great suitor yonder who is going to rescue her." "what suitor is that?" said the herd. "oh, he is a great general of arms," said the dairymaid, "and when he kills the beast, he will marry the king's daughter, for the king has said that he who could save his daughter should get her to marry." but on the morrow, when the time grew near, the king's daughter and this hero of arms went to give a meeting to the beast, and they reached the black rock, at the upper end of the loch. they were but a short time there when the beast stirred in the midst of the loch; but when the general saw this terror of a beast with three heads, he took fright, and he slunk away, and he hid himself. and the king's daughter was under fear and under trembling, with no one at all to save her. suddenly she sees a doughty handsome youth, riding a black horse, and coming where she was. he was marvellously arrayed and full armed, and his black dog moved after him. "there is gloom on your face, girl," said the youth; "what do you here?" "oh! that's no matter," said the king's daughter. "it's not long i'll be here, at all events." "i say not that," said he. "a champion fled as likely as you, and not long since," said she. "he is a champion who stands the war," said the youth. and to meet the beast he went with his sword and his dog. but there was a spluttering and a splashing between himself and the beast! the dog kept doing all he might, and the king's daughter was palsied by fear of the noise of the beast! one of them would now be under, and now above. but at last he cut one of the heads off it. it gave one roar, and the son of earth, echo of the rocks, called to its screech, and it drove the loch in spindrift from end to end, and in a twinkling it went out of sight. "good luck and victory follow you, lad!" said the king's daughter. "i am safe for one night, but the beast will come again and again, until the other two heads come off it." he caught the beast's head, and he drew a knot through it, and he told her to bring it with her there to-morrow. she gave him a gold ring, and went home with the head on her shoulder, and the herd betook himself to the cows. but she had not gone far when this great general saw her, and he said to her, "i will kill you if you do not say that 'twas i took the head off the beast." "oh!" says she, "'tis i will say it; who else took the head off the beast but you!" they reached the king's house, and the head was on the general's shoulder. but here was rejoicing, that she should come home alive and whole, and this great captain with the beast's head full of blood in his hand. on the morrow they went away, and there was no question at all but that this hero would save the king's daughter. they reached the same place, and they were not long there when the fearful laidly beast stirred in the midst of the loch, and the hero slunk away as he did on yesterday, but it was not long after this when the man of the black horse came, with another dress on. no matter; she knew that it was the very same lad. "it is i am pleased to see you," said she. "i am in hopes you will handle your great sword to-day as you did yesterday. come up and take breath." but they were not long there when they saw the beast steaming in the midst of the loch. at once he went to meet the beast, but _there_ was cloopersteich and claperstich, spluttering, splashing, raving, and roaring on the beast! they kept at it thus for a long time, and about the mouth of night he cut another head off the beast. he put it on the knot and gave it to her. she gave him one of her earrings, and he leaped on the black horse, and he betook himself to the herding. the king's daughter went home with the heads. the general met her, and took the heads from her, and he said to her, that she must tell that it was he who took the head off the beast this time also. "who else took the head off the beast but you?" said she. they reached the king's house with the heads. then there was joy and gladness. about the same time on the morrow, the two went away. the officer hid himself as he usually did. the king's daughter betook herself to the bank of the loch. the hero of the black horse came, and if roaring and raving were on the beast on the days that were passed, this day it was horrible. but no matter, he took the third head off the beast, and drew it through the knot, and gave it to her. she gave him her other earring, and then she went home with the heads. when they reached the king's house, all were full of smiles, and the general was to marry the king's daughter the next day. the wedding was going on, and every one about the castle longing till the priest should come. but when the priest came, she would marry only the one who could take the heads off the knot without cutting it. "who should take the heads off the knot but the man that put the heads on?" said the king. the general tried them; but he could not loose them; and at last there was no one about the house but had tried to take the heads off the knot, but they could not. the king asked if there were any one else about the house that would try to take the heads off the knot. they said that the herd had not tried them yet. word went for the herd; and he was not long throwing them hither and thither. "but stop a bit, my lad," said the king's daughter; "the man that took the heads off the beast, he has my ring and my two earrings." the herd put his hand in his pocket, and he threw them on the board. "thou art my man," said the king's daughter. the king was not so pleased when he saw that it was a herd who was to marry his daughter, but he ordered that he should be put in a better dress; but his daughter spoke, and she said that he had a dress as fine as any that ever was in his castle; and thus it happened. the herd put on the giant's golden dress, and they married that same day. they were now married, and everything went on well. but one day, and it was the namesake of the day when his father had promised him to the sea-maiden, they were sauntering by the side of the loch, and lo and behold! she came and took him away to the loch without leave or asking. the king's daughter was now mournful, tearful, blind-sorrowful for her married man; she was always with her eye on the loch. an old soothsayer met her, and she told how it had befallen her married mate. then he told her the thing to do to save her mate, and that she did. she took her harp to the sea-shore, and sat and played; and the sea-maiden came up to listen, for sea-maidens are fonder of music than all other creatures. but when the wife saw the sea-maiden she stopped. the sea-maiden said, "play on!" but the princess said, "no, not till i see my man again." so the sea-maiden put up his head out of the loch. then the princess played again, and stopped till the sea-maiden put him up to the waist. then the princess played and stopped again, and this time the sea-maiden put him all out of the loch, and he called on the falcon and became one and flew on shore. but the sea-maiden took the princess, his wife. sorrowful was each one that was in the town on this night. her man was mournful, tearful, wandering down and up about the banks of the loch, by day and night. the old soothsayer met him. the soothsayer told him that there was no way of killing the sea-maiden but the one way, and this is it--"in the island that is in the midst of the loch is the white-footed hind of the slenderest legs and the swiftest step, and though she be caught, there will spring a hoodie out of her, and though the hoodie should be caught, there will spring a trout out of her, but there is an egg in the mouth of the trout, and the soul of the sea-maiden is in the egg, and if the egg breaks, she is dead." now, there was no way of getting to this island, for the sea-maiden would sink each boat and raft that would go on the loch. he thought he would try to leap the strait with the black horse, and even so he did. the black horse leaped the strait. he saw the hind, and he let the black dog after her, but when he was on one side of the island, the hind would be on the other side. "oh! would the black dog of the carcass of flesh were here!" no sooner spoke he the word than the grateful dog was at his side; and after the hind he went, and they were not long in bringing her to earth. but he no sooner caught her than a hoodie sprang out of her. "would that the falcon grey, of sharpest eye and swiftest wing, were here!" no sooner said he this than the falcon was after the hoodie, and she was not long putting her to earth; and as the hoodie fell on the bank of the loch, out of her jumps the trout. "oh! that thou wert by me now, oh otter!" no sooner said than the otter was at his side, and out on the loch she leaped, and brings the trout from the midst of the loch; but no sooner was the otter on shore with the trout than the egg came from his mouth. he sprang and he put his foot on it. 'twas then the sea-maiden appeared, and she said, "break not the egg, and you shall get all you ask." "deliver to me my wife!" in the wink of an eye she was by his side. when he got hold of her hand in both his hands, he let his foot down on the egg, and the sea-maiden died. a legend of knockmany what irish man, woman, or child has not heard of our renowned hibernian hercules, the great and glorious fin m'coul? not one, from cape clear to the giant's causeway, nor from that back again to cape clear. and, by-the-way, speaking of the giant's causeway brings me at once to the beginning of my story. well, it so happened that fin and his men were all working at the causeway, in order to make a bridge across to scotland; when fin, who was very fond of his wife oonagh, took it into his head that he would go home and see how the poor woman got on in his absence. so, accordingly, he pulled up a fir-tree, and, after lopping off the roots and branches, made a walking-stick of it, and set out on his way to oonagh. oonagh, or rather fin, lived at this time on the very tip-top of knockmany hill, which faces a cousin of its own called cullamore, that rises up, half-hill, half-mountain, on the opposite side. there was at that time another giant, named cucullin--some say he was irish, and some say he was scotch--but whether scotch or irish, sorrow doubt of it but he was a targer. no other giant of the day could stand before him; and such was his strength, that, when well vexed, he could give a stamp that shook the country about him. the fame and name of him went far and near; and nothing in the shape of a man, it was said, had any chance with him in a fight. by one blow of his fists he flattened a thunderbolt and kept it in his pocket, in the shape of a pancake, to show to all his enemies, when they were about to fight him. undoubtedly he had given every giant in ireland a considerable beating, barring fin m'coul himself; and he swore that he would never rest, night or day, winter or summer, till he would serve fin with the same sauce, if he could catch him. however, the short and long of it was, with reverence be it spoken, that fin heard cucullin was coming to the causeway to have a trial of strength with him; and he was seized with a very warm and sudden fit of affection for his wife, poor woman, leading a very lonely, uncomfortable life of it in his absence. he accordingly pulled up the fir-tree, as i said before, and having snedded it into a walking-stick, set out on his travels to see his darling oonagh on the top of knockmany, by the way. in truth, the people wondered very much why it was that fin selected such a windy spot for his dwelling-house, and they even went so far as to tell him as much. "what can you mane, mr. m'coul," said they, "by pitching your tent upon the top of knockmany, where you never are without a breeze, day or night, winter or summer, and where you're often forced to take your nightcap without either going to bed or turning up your little finger; ay, an' where, besides this, there's the sorrow's own want of water?" "why," said fin, "ever since i was the height of a round tower, i was known to be fond of having a good prospect of my own; and where the dickens, neighbours, could i find a better spot for a good prospect than the top of knockmany? as for water, i am sinking a pump, and, plase goodness, as soon as the causeway's made, i intend to finish it." now, this was more of fin's philosophy; for the real state of the case was, that he pitched upon the top of knockmany in order that he might be able to see cucullin coming towards the house. all we have to say is, that if he wanted a spot from which to keep a sharp look-out--and, between ourselves, he did want it grievously--barring slieve croob, or slieve donard, or its own cousin, cullamore, he could not find a neater or more convenient situation for it in the sweet and sagacious province of ulster. "god save all here!" said fin, good-humouredly, on putting his honest face into his own door. "musha, fin, avick, an' you're welcome home to your own oonagh, you darlin' bully." here followed a smack that is said to have made the waters of the lake at the bottom of the hill curl, as it were, with kindness and sympathy. fin spent two or three happy days with oonagh, and felt himself very comfortable, considering the dread he had of cucullin. this, however, grew upon him so much that his wife could not but perceive something lay on his mind which he kept altogether to himself. let a woman alone, in the meantime, for ferreting or wheedling a secret out of her good man, when she wishes. fin was a proof of this. "it's this cucullin," said he, "that's troubling me. when the fellow gets angry, and begins to stamp, he'll shake you a whole townland; and it's well known that he can stop a thunderbolt, for he always carries one about him in the shape of a pancake, to show to any one that might misdoubt it." as he spoke, he clapped his thumb in his mouth, which he always did when he wanted to prophesy, or to know anything that happened in his absence; and the wife asked him what he did it for. "he's coming," said fin; "i see him below dungannon." "thank goodness, dear! an' who is it, avick? glory be to god!" "that baste, cucullin," replied fin; "and how to manage i don't know. if i run away, i am disgraced; and i know that sooner or later i must meet him, for my thumb tells me so." "when will he be here?" said she. "to-morrow, about two o'clock," replied fin, with a groan. "well, my bully, don't be cast down," said oonagh; "depend on me, and maybe i'll bring you better out of this scrape than ever you could bring yourself, by your rule o' thumb." she then made a high smoke on the top of the hill, after which she put her finger in her mouth, and gave three whistles, and by that cucullin knew he was invited to cullamore--for this was the way that the irish long ago gave a sign to all strangers and travellers, to let them know they were welcome to come and take share of whatever was going. in the meantime, fin was very melancholy, and did not know what to do, or how to act at all. cucullin was an ugly customer to meet with; and, the idea of the "cake" aforesaid flattened the very heart within him. what chance could he have, strong and brave though he was, with a man who could, when put in a passion, walk the country into earthquakes and knock thunderbolts into pancakes? fin knew not on what hand to turn him. right or left--backward or forward--where to go he could form no guess whatsoever. "oonagh," said he, "can you do nothing for me? where's all your invention? am i to be skivered like a rabbit before your eyes, and to have my name disgraced for ever in the sight of all my tribe, and me the best man among them? how am i to fight this man-mountain--this huge cross between an earthquake and a thunderbolt?--with a pancake in his pocket that was once--" "be easy, fin," replied oonagh; "troth, i'm ashamed of you. keep your toe in your pump, will you? talking of pancakes, maybe, we'll give him as good as any he brings with him--thunderbolt or otherwise. if i don't treat him to as smart feeding as he's got this many a day, never trust oonagh again. leave him to me, and do just as i bid you." this relieved fin very much; for, after all, he had great confidence in his wife, knowing, as he did, that she had got him out of many a quandary before. oonagh then drew the nine woollen threads of different colours, which she always did to find out the best way of succeeding in anything of importance she went about. she then platted them into three plats with three colours in each, putting one on her right arm, one round her heart, and the third round her right ankle, for then she knew that nothing could fail with her that she undertook. having everything now prepared, she sent round to the neighbours and borrowed one-and-twenty iron griddles, which she took and kneaded into the hearts of one-and-twenty cakes of bread, and these she baked on the fire in the usual way, setting them aside in the cupboard according as they were done. she then put down a large pot of new milk, which she made into curds and whey. having done all this, she sat down quite contented, waiting for his arrival on the next day about two o'clock, that being the hour at which he was expected--for fin knew as much by the sucking of his thumb. now this was a curious property that fin's thumb had. in this very thing, moreover, he was very much resembled by his great foe, cucullin; for it was well known that the huge strength he possessed all lay in the middle finger of his right hand, and that, if he happened by any mischance to lose it, he was no more, for all his bulk, than a common man. at length, the next day, cucullin was seen coming across the valley, and oonagh knew that it was time to commence operations. she immediately brought the cradle, and made fin to lie down in it, and cover himself up with the clothes. "you must pass for your own child," said she; "so just lie there snug, and say nothing, but be guided by me." about two o'clock, as he had been expected, cucullin came in. "god save all here!" said he; "is this where the great fin m'coul lives?" "indeed it is, honest man," replied oonagh; "god save you kindly--won't you be sitting?" "thank you, ma'am," says he, sitting down; "you're mrs. m'coul, i suppose?" "i am," said she; "and i have no reason, i hope, to be ashamed of my husband." "no," said the other, "he has the name of being the strongest and bravest man in ireland; but for all that, there's a man not far from you that's very desirous of taking a shake with him. is he at home?" "why, then, no," she replied; "and if ever a man left his house in a fury, he did. it appears that some one told him of a big basthoon of a--giant called cucullin being down at the causeway to look for him, and so he set out there to try if he could catch him. troth, i hope, for the poor giant's sake, he won't meet with him, for if he does, fin will make paste of him at once." "well," said the other, "i am cucullin, and i have been seeking him these twelve months, but he always kept clear of me; and i will never rest night or day till i lay my hands on him." at this oonagh set up a loud laugh, of great contempt, by-the-way, and looked at him as if he was only a mere handful of a man. "did you ever see fin?" said she, changing her manner all at once. "how could i?" said he; "he always took care to keep his distance." "i thought so," she replied; "i judged as much; and if you take my advice, you poor-looking creature, you'll pray night and day that you may never see him, for i tell you it will be a black day for you when you do. but, in the meantime, you perceive that the wind's on the door, and as fin himself is from home, maybe you'd be civil enough to turn the house, for it's always what fin does when he's here." this was a startler even to cucullin; but he got up, however, and after pulling the middle finger of his right hand until it cracked three times, he went outside, and getting his arms about the house, turned it as she had wished. when fin saw this, he felt the sweat of fear oozing out through every pore of his skin; but oonagh, depending upon her woman's wit, felt not a whit daunted. "arrah, then," said she, "as you are so civil, maybe you'd do another obliging turn for us, as fin's not here to do it himself. you see, after this long stretch of dry weather we've had, we feel very badly off for want of water. now, fin says there's a fine spring-well somewhere under the rocks behind the hill here below, and it was his intention to pull them asunder; but having heard of you, he left the place in such a fury, that he never thought of it. now, if you try to find it, troth i'd feel it a kindness." she then brought cucullin down to see the place, which was then all one solid rock; and, after looking at it for some time, he cracked his right middle finger nine times, and, stooping down, tore a cleft about four hundred feet deep, and a quarter of a mile in length, which has since been christened by the name of lumford's glen. "you'll now come in," said she, "and eat a bit of such humble fare as we can give you. fin, even although he and you are enemies, would scorn not to treat you kindly in his own house; and, indeed, if i didn't do it even in his absence, he would not be pleased with me." she accordingly brought him in, and placing half-a-dozen of the cakes we spoke of before him, together with a can or two of butter, a side of boiled bacon, and a stack of cabbage, she desired him to help himself--for this, be it known, was long before the invention of potatoes. cucullin put one of the cakes in his mouth to take a huge whack out of it, when he made a thundering noise, something between a growl and a yell. "blood and fury!" he shouted; "how is this? here are two of my teeth out! what kind of bread this is you gave me." "what's the matter?" said oonagh coolly. "matter!" shouted the other again; "why, here are the two best teeth in my head gone." "why," said she, "that's fin's bread--the only bread he ever eats when at home; but, indeed, i forgot to tell you that nobody can eat it but himself, and that child in the cradle there. i thought, however, that, as you were reported to be rather a stout little fellow of your size, you might be able to manage it, and i did not wish to affront a man that thinks himself able to fight fin. here's another cake--maybe it's not so hard as that." cucullin at the moment was not only hungry, but ravenous, so he accordingly made a fresh set at the second cake, and immediately another yell was heard twice as loud as the first. "thunder and gibbets!" he roared, "take your bread out of this, or i will not have a tooth in my head; there's another pair of them gone!" "well, honest man," replied oonagh, "if you're not able to eat the bread, say so quietly, and don't be wakening the child in the cradle there. there, now, he's awake upon me." fin now gave a skirl that startled the giant, as coming from such a youngster as he was supposed to be. "mother," said he, "i'm hungry--get me something to eat." oonagh went over, and putting into his hand a cake that had no griddle in it, fin, whose appetite in the meantime had been sharpened by seeing eating going forward, soon swallowed it. cucullin was thunderstruck, and secretly thanked his stars that he had the good fortune to miss meeting fin, for, as he said to himself, "i'd have no chance with a man who could eat such bread as that, which even his son that's but in his cradle can munch before my eyes." "i'd like to take a glimpse at the lad in the cradle," said he to oonagh; "for i can tell you that the infant who can manage that nutriment is no joke to look at, or to feed of a scarce summer." "with all the veins of my heart," replied oonagh; "get up, acushla, and show this decent little man something that won't be unworthy of your father, fin m'coul." fin, who was dressed for the occasion as much like a boy as possible, got up, and bringing cucullin out, "are you strong?" said he. "thunder an' ounds!" exclaimed the other, "what a voice in so small a chap!" "are you strong?" said fin again; "are you able to squeeze water out of that white stone?" he asked, putting one into cucullin's hand. the latter squeezed and squeezed the stone, but in vain. "ah, you're a poor creature!" said fin. "you a giant! give me the stone here, and when i'll show what fin's little son can do, you may then judge of what my daddy himself is." fin then took the stone, and exchanging it for the curds, he squeezed the latter until the whey, as clear as water, oozed out in a little shower from his hand. "i'll now go in," said he, "to my cradle; for i scorn to lose my time with any one that's not able to eat my daddy's bread, or squeeze water out of a stone. bedad, you had better be off out of this before he comes back; for if he catches you, it's in flummery he'd have you in two minutes." cucullin, seeing what he had seen, was of the same opinion himself; his knees knocked together with the terror of fin's return, and he accordingly hastened to bid oonagh farewell, and to assure her, that from that day out, he never wished to hear of, much less to see, her husband. "i admit fairly that i'm not a match for him," said he, "strong as i am; tell him i will avoid him as i would the plague, and that i will make myself scarce in this part of the country while i live." fin, in the meantime, had gone into the cradle, where he lay very quietly, his heart at his mouth with delight that cucullin was about to take his departure, without discovering the tricks that had been played off on him. "it's well for you," said oonagh, "that he doesn't happen to be here, for it's nothing but hawk's meat he'd make of you." "i know that," says cucullin; "divil a thing else he'd make of me; but before i go, will you let me feel what kind of teeth fin's lad has got that can eat griddle-bread like that?" "with all pleasure in life," said she; "only, as they're far back in his head, you must put your finger a good way in." cucullin was surprised to find such a powerful set of grinders in one so young; but he was still much more so on finding, when he took his hand from fin's mouth, that he had left the very finger upon which his whole strength depended, behind him. he gave one loud groan, and fell down at once with terror and weakness. this was all fin wanted, who now knew that his most powerful and bitterest enemy was at his mercy. he started out of the cradle, and in a few minutes the great cucullin, that was for such a length of time the terror of him and all his followers, lay a corpse before him. thus did fin, through the wit and invention of oonagh, his wife, succeed in overcoming his enemy by cunning, which he never could have done by force. fair, brown, and trembling king hugh curucha lived in tir conal, and he had three daughters, whose names were fair, brown, and trembling. fair and brown had new dresses, and went to church every sunday. trembling was kept at home to do the cooking and work. they would not let her go out of the house at all; for she was more beautiful than the other two, and they were in dread she might marry before themselves. they carried on in this way for seven years. at the end of seven years the son of the king of emania fell in love with the eldest sister. one sunday morning, after the other two had gone to church, the old henwife came into the kitchen to trembling, and said: "it's at church you ought to be this day, instead of working here at home." "how could i go?" said trembling. "i have no clothes good enough to wear at church; and if my sisters were to see me there, they'd kill me for going out of the house." "i'll give you," said the henwife, "a finer dress than either of them has ever seen. and now tell me what dress will you have?" "i'll have," said trembling, "a dress as white as snow, and green shoes for my feet." then the henwife put on the cloak of darkness, clipped a piece from the old clothes the young woman had on, and asked for the whitest robes in the world and the most beautiful that could be found, and a pair of green shoes. that moment she had the robe and the shoes, and she brought them to trembling, who put them on. when trembling was dressed and ready, the henwife said: "i have a honey-bird here to sit on your right shoulder, and a honey-finger to put on your left. at the door stands a milk-white mare, with a golden saddle for you to sit on, and a golden bridle to hold in your hand." trembling sat on the golden saddle; and when she was ready to start, the henwife said: "you must not go inside the door of the church, and the minute the people rise up at the end of mass, do you make off, and ride home as fast as the mare will carry you." when trembling came to the door of the church there was no one inside who could get a glimpse of her but was striving to know who she was; and when they saw her hurrying away at the end of mass, they ran out to overtake her. but no use in their running; she was away before any man could come near her. from the minute she left the church till she got home, she overtook the wind before her, and outstripped the wind behind. she came down at the door, went in, and found the henwife had dinner ready. she put off the white robes, and had on her old dress in a twinkling. when the two sisters came home the henwife asked: "have you any news to-day from the church?" "we have great news," said they. "we saw a wonderful grand lady at the church-door. the like of the robes she had we have never seen on woman before. it's little that was thought of our dresses beside what she had on; and there wasn't a man at the church, from the king to the beggar, but was trying to look at her and know who she was." the sisters would give no peace till they had two dresses like the robes of the strange lady; but honey-birds and honey-fingers were not to be found. next sunday the two sisters went to church again, and left the youngest at home to cook the dinner. after they had gone, the henwife came in and asked: "will you go to church to-day?" "i would go," said trembling, "if i could get the going." "what robe will you wear?" asked the henwife. "the finest black satin that can be found, and red shoes for my feet." "what colour do you want the mare to be?" "i want her to be so black and so glossy that i can see myself in her body." the henwife put on the cloak of darkness, and asked for the robes and the mare. that moment she had them. when trembling was dressed, the henwife put the honey-bird on her right shoulder and the honey-finger on her left. the saddle on the mare was silver, and so was the bridle. when trembling sat in the saddle and was going away, the henwife ordered her strictly not to go inside the door of the church, but to rush away as soon as the people rose at the end of mass, and hurry home on the mare before any man could stop her. that sunday, the people were more astonished than ever, and gazed at her more than the first time; and all they were thinking of was to know who she was. but they had no chance; for the moment the people rose at the end of mass she slipped from the church, was in the silver saddle, and home before a man could stop her or talk to her. the henwife had the dinner ready. trembling took off her satin robe, and had on her old clothes before her sisters got home. "what news have you to-day?" asked the henwife of the sisters when they came from the church. "oh, we saw the grand strange lady again! and it's little that any man could think of our dresses after looking at the robes of satin that she had on! and all at church, from high to low, had their mouths open, gazing at her, and no man was looking at us." the two sisters gave neither rest nor peace till they got dresses as nearly like the strange lady's robes as they could find. of course they were not so good; for the like of those robes could not be found in erin. when the third sunday came, fair and brown went to church dressed in black satin. they left trembling at home to work in the kitchen, and told her to be sure and have dinner ready when they came back. after they had gone and were out of sight, the henwife came to the kitchen and said: "well, my dear, are you for church to-day?" "i would go if i had a new dress to wear." "i'll get you any dress you ask for. what dress would you like?" asked the henwife. "a dress red as a rose from the waist down, and white as snow from the waist up; a cape of green on my shoulders; and a hat on my head with a red, a white, and a green feather in it; and shoes for my feet with the toes red, the middle white, and the backs and heels green." the henwife put on the cloak of darkness, wished for all these things, and had them. when trembling was dressed, the henwife put the honey-bird on her right shoulder and the honey-finger on her left, and, placing the hat on her head, clipped a few hairs from one lock and a few from another with her scissors, and that moment the most beautiful golden hair was flowing down over the girl's shoulders. then the henwife asked what kind of a mare she would ride. she said white, with blue and gold-coloured diamond-shaped spots all over her body, on her back a saddle of gold, and on her head a golden bridle. the mare stood there before the door, and a bird sitting between her ears, which began to sing as soon as trembling was in the saddle, and never stopped till she came home from the church. the fame of the beautiful strange lady had gone out through the world, and all the princes and great men that were in it came to church that sunday, each one hoping that it was himself would have her home with him after mass. the son of the king of emania forgot all about the eldest sister, and remained outside the church, so as to catch the strange lady before she could hurry away. the church was more crowded than ever before, and there were three times as many outside. there was such a throng before the church that trembling could only come inside the gate. as soon as the people were rising at the end of mass, the lady slipped out through the gate, was in the golden saddle in an instant, and sweeping away ahead of the wind. but if she was, the prince of emania was at her side, and, seizing her by the foot, he ran with the mare for thirty perches, and never let go of the beautiful lady till the shoe was pulled from her foot, and he was left behind with it in his hand. she came home as fast as the mare could carry her, and was thinking all the time that the henwife would kill her for losing the shoe. seeing her so vexed and so changed in the face, the old woman asked: "what's the trouble that's on you now?" "oh! i've lost one of the shoes off my feet," said trembling. "don't mind that; don't be vexed," said the henwife; "maybe it's the best thing that ever happened to you." then trembling gave up all the things she had to the henwife, put on her old clothes, and went to work in the kitchen. when the sisters came home, the henwife asked: "have you any news from the church?" "we have indeed," said they, "for we saw the grandest sight to-day. the strange lady came again, in grander array than before. on herself and the horse she rode were the finest colours of the world, and between the ears of the horse was a bird which never stopped singing from the time she came till she went away. the lady herself is the most beautiful woman ever seen by man in erin." after trembling had disappeared from the church, the son of the king of emania said to the other kings' sons: "i will have that lady for my own." they all said: "you didn't win her just by taking the shoe off her foot; you'll have to win her by the point of the sword; you'll have to fight for her with us before you can call her your own." "well," said the son of the king of emania, "when i find the lady that shoe will fit, i'll fight for her, never fear, before i leave her to any of you." then all the kings' sons were uneasy, and anxious to know who was she that lost the shoe; and they began to travel all over erin to know could they find her. the prince of emania and all the others went in a great company together, and made the round of erin; they went everywhere,--north, south, east, and west. they visited every place where a woman was to be found, and left not a house in the kingdom they did not search, to know could they find the woman the shoe would fit, not caring whether she was rich or poor, of high or low degree. the prince of emania always kept the shoe; and when the young women saw it, they had great hopes, for it was of proper size, neither large nor small, and it would beat any man to know of what material it was made. one thought it would fit her if she cut a little from her great toe; and another, with too short a foot, put something in the tip of her stocking. but no use; they only spoiled their feet, and were curing them for months afterwards. the two sisters, fair and brown, heard that the princes of the world were looking all over erin for the woman that could wear the shoe, and every day they were talking of trying it on; and one day trembling spoke up and said: "maybe it's my foot that the shoe will fit." "oh, the breaking of the dog's foot on you! why say so when you were at home every sunday?" they were that way waiting, and scolding the younger sister, till the princes were near the place. the day they were to come, the sisters put trembling in a closet, and locked the door on her. when the company came to the house, the prince of emania gave the shoe to the sisters. but though they tried and tried, it would fit neither of them. "is there any other young woman in the house?" asked the prince. "there is," said trembling, speaking up in the closet; "i'm here." "oh! we have her for nothing but to put out the ashes," said the sisters. but the prince and the others wouldn't leave the house till they had seen her; so the two sisters had to open the door. when trembling came out, the shoe was given to her, and it fitted exactly. the prince of emania looked at her and said: "you are the woman the shoe fits, and you are the woman i took the shoe from." then trembling spoke up, and said: "do you stay here till i return." then she went to the henwife's house. the old woman put on the cloak of darkness, got everything for her she had the first sunday at church, and put her on the white mare in the same fashion. then trembling rode along the highway to the front of the house. all who saw her the first time said: "this is the lady we saw at church." then she went away a second time, and a second time came back on the black mare in the second dress which the henwife gave her. all who saw her the second sunday said: "that is the lady we saw at church." a third time she asked for a short absence, and soon came back on the third mare and in the third dress. all who saw her the third time said: "that is the lady we saw at church." every man was satisfied, and knew that she was the woman. then all the princes and great men spoke up, and said to the son of the king of emania: "you'll have to fight now for her before we let her go with you." "i'm here before you, ready for combat," answered the prince. then the son of the king of lochlin stepped forth. the struggle began, and a terrible struggle it was. they fought for nine hours; and then the son of the king of lochlin stopped, gave up his claim, and left the field. next day the son of the king of spain fought six hours, and yielded his claim. on the third day the son of the king of nyerfói fought eight hours, and stopped. the fourth day the son of the king of greece fought six hours, and stopped. on the fifth day no more strange princes wanted to fight; and all the sons of kings in erin said they would not fight with a man of their own land, that the strangers had had their chance, and, as no others came to claim the woman, she belonged of right to the son of the king of emania. the marriage-day was fixed, and the invitations were sent out. the wedding lasted for a year and a day. when the wedding was over, the king's son brought home the bride, and when the time came a son was born. the young woman sent for her eldest sister, fair, to be with her and care for her. one day, when trembling was well, and when her husband was away hunting, the two sisters went out to walk; and when they came to the seaside, the eldest pushed the youngest sister in. a great whale came and swallowed her. the eldest sister came home alone, and the husband asked, "where is your sister?" "she has gone home to her father in ballyshannon; now that i am well, i don't need her." "well," said the husband, looking at her, "i'm in dread it's my wife that has gone." "oh! no," said she; "it's my sister fair that's gone." since the sisters were very much alike, the prince was in doubt. that night he put his sword between them, and said: "if you are my wife, this sword will get warm; if not, it will stay cold." in the morning when he rose up, the sword was as cold as when he put it there. it happened, when the two sisters were walking by the seashore, that a little cowboy was down by the water minding cattle, and saw fair push trembling into the sea; and next day, when the tide came in, he saw the whale swim up and throw her out on the sand. when she was on the sand she said to the cowboy: "when you go home in the evening with the cows, tell the master that my sister fair pushed me into the sea yesterday; that a whale swallowed me, and then threw me out, but will come again and swallow me with the coming of the next tide; then he'll go out with the tide, and come again with to-morrow's tide, and throw me again on the strand. the whale will cast me out three times. i'm under the enchantment of this whale, and cannot leave the beach or escape myself. unless my husband saves me before i'm swallowed the fourth time, i shall be lost. he must come and shoot the whale with a silver bullet when he turns on the broad of his back. under the breast-fin of the whale is a reddish-brown spot. my husband must hit him in that spot, for it is the only place in which he can be killed." when the cowboy got home, the eldest sister gave him a draught of oblivion, and he did not tell. next day he went again to the sea. the whale came and cast trembling on shore again. she asked the boy "did you tell the master what i told you to tell him?" "i did not," said he; "i forgot." "how did you forget?" asked she. "the woman of the house gave me a drink that made me forget." "well, don't forget telling him this night; and if she gives you a drink, don't take it from her." as soon as the cowboy came home, the eldest sister offered him a drink. he refused to take it till he had delivered his message and told all to the master. the third day the prince went down with his gun and a silver bullet in it. he was not long down when the whale came and threw trembling upon the beach as the two days before. she had no power to speak to her husband till he had killed the whale. then the whale went out, turned over once on the broad of his back, and showed the spot for a moment only. that moment the prince fired. he had but the one chance, and a short one at that; but he took it, and hit the spot, and the whale, mad with pain, made the sea all around red with blood, and died. that minute trembling was able to speak, and went home with her husband, who sent word to her father what the eldest sister had done. the father came, and told him any death he chose to give her to give it. the prince told the father he would leave her life and death with himself. the father had her put out then on the sea in a barrel, with provisions in it for seven years. in time trembling had a second child, a daughter. the prince and she sent the cowboy to school, and trained him up as one of their own children, and said: "if the little girl that is born to us now lives, no other man in the world will get her but him." the cowboy and the prince's daughter lived on till they were married. the mother said to her husband "you could not have saved me from the whale but for the little cowboy; on that account i don't grudge him my daughter." the son of the king of emania and trembling had fourteen children, and they lived happily till the two died of old age. jack and his master a poor woman had three sons. the eldest and second eldest were cunning clever fellows, but they called the youngest jack the fool, because they thought he was no better than a simpleton. the eldest got tired of staying at home, and said he'd go look for service. he stayed away a whole year, and then came back one day, dragging one foot after the other, and a poor wizened face on him, and he as cross as two sticks. when he was rested and got something to eat, he told them how he got service with the gray churl of the townland of mischance, and that the agreement was, whoever would first say he was sorry for his bargain, should get an inch wide of the skin of his back, from shoulder to hips, taken off. if it was the master, he should also pay double wages; if it was the servant, he should get no wages at all. "but the thief," says he, "gave me so little to eat, and kept me so hard at work, that flesh and blood couldn't stand it; and when he asked me once, when i was in a passion, if i was sorry for my bargain, i was mad enough to say i was, and here i am disabled for life." vexed enough were the poor mother and brothers; and the second eldest said on the spot he'd go and take service with the gray churl, and punish him by all the annoyance he'd give him till he'd make him say he was sorry for his agreement. "oh, won't i be glad to see the skin coming off the old villain's back!" said he. all they could say had no effect: he started off for the townland of mischance, and in a twelvemonth he was back just as miserable and helpless as his brother. all the poor mother could say didn't prevent jack the fool from starting to see if he was able to regulate the gray churl. he agreed with him for a year for twenty pounds, and the terms were the same. "now, jack," said the gray churl, "if you refuse to do anything you are able to do, you must lose a month's wages." "i'm satisfied," said jack; "and if you stop me from doing a thing after telling me to do it, you are to give me an additional month's wages." "i am satisfied," says the master. "or if you blame me for obeying your orders, you must give the same." "i am satisfied," said the master again. the first day that jack served he was fed very poorly, and was worked to the saddleskirts. next day he came in just before the dinner was sent up to the parlour. they were taking the goose off the spit, but well becomes jack he whips a knife off the dresser, and cuts off one side of the breast, one leg and thigh, and one wing, and fell to. in came the master, and began to abuse him for his assurance. "oh, you know, master, you're to feed me, and wherever the goose goes won't have to be filled again till supper. are you sorry for our agreement?" the master was going to cry out he was, but he bethought himself in time. "oh no, not at all," said he. "that's well," said jack. next day jack was to go clamp turf on the bog. they weren't sorry to have him away from the kitchen at dinner time. he didn't find his breakfast very heavy on his stomach; so he said to the mistress, "i think, ma'am, it will be better for me to get my dinner now, and not lose time coming home from the bog." "that's true, jack," said she. so she brought out a good cake, and a print of butter, and a bottle of milk, thinking he'd take them away to the bog. but jack kept his seat, and never drew rein till bread, butter, and milk went down the red lane. "now, mistress," said he, "i'll be earlier at my work to-morrow if i sleep comfortably on the sheltery side of a pile of dry peat on dry grass, and not be coming here and going back. so you may as well give me my supper, and be done with the day's trouble." she gave him that, thinking he'd take it to the bog; but he fell to on the spot, and did not leave a scrap to tell tales on him; and the mistress was a little astonished. he called to speak to the master in the haggard, and said he, "what are servants asked to do in this country after aten their supper?" "nothing at all, but to go to bed." "oh, very well, sir." he went up on the stable-loft, stripped, and lay down, and some one that saw him told the master. he came up. "jack, you anointed scoundrel, what do you mean?" "to go to sleep, master. the mistress, god bless her, is after giving me my breakfast, dinner, and supper, and yourself told me that bed was the next thing. do you blame me, sir?" "yes, you rascal, i do." "hand me out one pound thirteen and fourpence, if you please, sir." "one divel and thirteen imps, you tinker! what for?" "oh, i see, you've forgot your bargain. are you sorry for it?" "oh, ya--no, i mean. i'll give you the money after your nap." next morning early, jack asked how he'd be employed that day. "you are to be holding the plough in that fallow, outside the paddock." the master went over about nine o'clock to see what kind of a ploughman was jack, and what did he see but the little boy driving the bastes, and the sock and coulter of the plough skimming along the sod, and jack pulling ding-dong again' the horses. "what are you doing, you contrary thief?" said the master. "an' ain't i strivin' to hold this divel of a plough, as you told me; but that ounkrawn of a boy keeps whipping on the bastes in spite of all i say; will you speak to him?" "no, but i'll speak to you. didn't you know, you bosthoon, that when i said 'holding the plough,' i meant reddening the ground." "faith, an' if you did, i wish you had said so. do you blame me for what i have done?" the master caught himself in time, but he was so stomached, he said nothing. "go on and redden the ground now, you knave, as other ploughmen do." "an' are you sorry for our agreement?" "oh, not at all, not at all!" jack, ploughed away like a good workman all the rest of the day. in a day or two the master bade him go and mind the cows in a field that had half of it under young corn. "be sure, particularly," said he, "to keep browney from the wheat; while she's out of mischief there's no fear of the rest." about noon, he went to see how jack was doing his duty, and what did he find but jack asleep with his face to the sod, browney grazing near a thorn-tree, one end of a long rope round her horns, and the other end round the tree, and the rest of the beasts all trampling and eating the green wheat. down came the switch on jack. "jack, you vagabone, do you see what the cows are at?" "and do you blame, master?" "to be sure, you lazy sluggard, i do?" "hand me out one pound thirteen and fourpence, master. you said if i only kept browney out of mischief, the rest would do no harm. there she is as harmless as a lamb. are you sorry for hiring me, master?" "to be--that is, not at all. i'll give you your money when you go to dinner. now, understand me; don't let a cow go out of the field nor into the wheat the rest of the day." "never fear, master!" and neither did he. but the churl would rather than a great deal he had not hired him. the next day three heifers were missing, and the master bade jack go in search of them. "where will i look for them?" said jack. "oh, every place likely and unlikely for them all to be in." the churl was getting very exact in his words. when he was coming into the bawn at dinner-time, what work did he find jack at but pulling armfuls of the thatch off the roof, and peeping into the holes he was making? "what are you doing there, you rascal?" "sure, i'm looking for the heifers, poor things!" "what would bring them there?" "i don't think anything could bring them in it; but i looked first into the likely places, that is, the cow-houses, and the pastures, and the fields next 'em, and now i'm looking in the unlikeliest place i can think of. maybe it's not pleasing to you it is." "and to be sure it isn't pleasing to me, you aggravating goose-cap!" "please, sir, hand me one pound thirteen and four pence before you sit down to your dinner. i'm afraid it's sorrow that's on you for hiring me at all." "may the div--oh no; i'm not sorry. will you begin, if you please, and put in the thatch again, just as if you were doing it for your mother's cabin?" "oh, faith i will, sir, with a heart and a half;" and by the time the farmer came out from his dinner, jack had the roof better than it was before, for he made the boy give him new straw. says the master when he came out, "go, jack, and look for the heifers, and bring them home." "and where will i look for 'em?" "go and search for them as if they were your own." the heifers were all in the paddock before sunset. next morning, says the master, "jack, the path across the bog to the pasture is very bad; the sheep does be sinking in it every step; go and make the sheep's feet a good path." about an hour after he came to the edge of the bog, and what did he find jack at but sharpening a carving knife, and the sheep standing or grazing round. "is this the way you are mending the path, jack?" said he. "everything must have a beginning, master," said jack, "and a thing well begun is half done. i am sharpening the knife, and i'll have the feet off every sheep in the flock while you'd be blessing yourself." "feet off my sheep, you anointed rogue! and what would you be taking their feet off for?" "an' sure to mend the path as you told me. says you, 'jack, make a path with the foot of the sheep.'" "oh, you fool, i meant make good the path for the sheep's feet." "it's a pity you didn't say so, master. hand me out one pound thirteen and fourpence if you don't like me to finish my job." "divel do you good with your one pound thirteen and fourpence!" "it's better pray than curse, master. maybe you're sorry for your bargain?" "and to be sure i am--not yet, any way." the next night the master was going to a wedding; and says he to jack, before he set out: "i'll leave at midnight, and i wish you, to come and be with me home, for fear i might be overtaken with the drink. if you're there before, you may throw a sheep's eye at me, and i'll be sure to see that they'll give you something for yourself." about eleven o'clock, while the master was in great spirits, he felt something clammy hit him on the cheek. it fell beside his tumbler, and when he looked at it what was it but the eye of a sheep. well, he couldn't imagine who threw it at him, or why it was thrown at him. after a little he got a blow on the other cheek, and still it was by another sheep's eye. well, he was very vexed, but he thought better to say nothing. in two minutes more, when he was opening his mouth to take a sup, another sheep's eye was slapped into it. he sputtered it out, and cried, "man o' the house, isn't it a great shame for you to have any one in the room that would do such a nasty thing?" "master," says jack, "don't blame the honest man. sure it's only myself that was thrown' them sheep's eyes at you, to remind you i was here, and that i wanted to drink the bride and bridegroom's health. you know yourself bade me." "i know that you are a great rascal; and where did you get the eyes?" "an' where would i get em' but in the heads of your own sheep? would you have me meddle with the bastes of any neighbour, who might put me in the stone jug for it?" "sorrow on me that ever i had the bad luck to meet with you." "you're all witness," said jack, "that my master says he is sorry for having met with me. my time is up. master, hand me over double wages, and come into the next room, and lay yourself out like a man that has some decency in him, till i take a strip of skin an inch broad from your shoulder to your hip." every one shouted out against that; but, says jack, "you didn't hinder him when he took the same strips from the backs of my two brothers, and sent them home in that state, and penniless, to their poor mother." when the company heard the rights of the business, they were only too eager to see the job done. the master bawled and roared, but there was no help at hand. he was stripped to his hips, and laid on the floor in the next room, and jack had the carving knife in his hand ready to begin. "now you cruel old villain," said he, giving the knife a couple of scrapes along the floor, "i'll make you an offer. give me, along with my double wages, two hundred guineas to support my poor brothers, and i'll do without the strap." "no!" said he, "i'd let you skin me from head to foot first." "here goes then," said jack with a grin, but the first little scar he gave, churl roared out, "stop your hand; i'll give the money." "now, neighbours," said jack, "you mustn't think worse of me than i deserve. i wouldn't have the heart to take an eye out of a rat itself; i got half a dozen of them from the butcher, and only used three of them." so all came again into the other room, and jack was made sit down, and everybody drank his health, and he drank everybody's health at one offer. and six stout fellows saw himself and the master home, and waited in the parlour while he went up and brought down the two hundred guineas, and double wages for jack himself. when he got home, he brought the summer along with him to the poor mother and the disabled brothers; and he was no more jack the fool in the people's mouths, but "skin churl jack." beth gellert print llewelyn had a favourite greyhound named gellert that had been given to him by his father-in-law, king john. he was as gentle as a lamb at home but a lion in the chase. one day llewelyn went to the chase and blew his horn in front of his castle. all his other dogs came to the call but gellert never answered it. so he blew a louder blast on his horn and called gellert by name, but still the greyhound did not come. at last prince llewelyn could wait no longer and went off to the hunt without gellert. he had little sport that day because gellert was not there, the swiftest and boldest of his hounds. he turned back in a rage to his castle, and as he came to the gate, who should he see but gellert come bounding out to meet him. but when the hound came near him, the prince was startled to see that his lips and fangs were dripping with blood. llewelyn started back and the greyhound crouched down at his feet as if surprised or afraid at the way his master greeted him. now prince llewelyn had a little son a year old with whom gellert used to play, and a terrible thought crossed the prince's mind that made him rush towards the child's nursery. and the nearer he came the more blood and disorder he found about the rooms. he rushed into it and found the child's cradle overturned and daubed with blood. prince llewelyn grew more and more terrified, and sought for his little son everywhere. he could find him nowhere but only signs of some terrible conflict in which much blood had been shed. at last he felt sure the dog had destroyed his child, and shouting to gellert, "monster, thou hast devoured my child," he drew out his sword and plunged it in the greyhound's side, who fell with a deep yell and still gazing in his master's eyes. as gellert raised his dying yell, a little child's cry answered it from beneath the cradle, and there llewelyn found his child unharmed and just awakened from sleep. but just beside him lay the body of a great gaunt wolf all torn to pieces and covered with blood. too late, llewelyn learned what had happened while he was away. gellert had stayed behind to guard the child and had fought and slain the wolf that had tried to destroy llewelyn's heir. in vain was all llewelyn's grief; he could not bring his faithful dog to life again. so he buried him outside the castle walls within sight of the great mountain of snowdon, where every passer-by might see his grave, and raised over it a great cairn of stones. and to this day the place is called beth gellert, or the grave of gellert. the tale of ivan there were formerly a man and a woman living in the parish of llanlavan, in the place which is called hwrdh. and work became scarce, so the man said to his wife, "i will go search for work, and you may live here." so he took fair leave, and travelled far toward the east, and at last came to the house of a farmer and asked for work. "what work can ye do?" said the farmer. "i can do all kinds of work," said ivan. then they agreed upon three pounds for the year's wages. when the end of the year came his master showed him the three pounds. "see, ivan," said he, "here's your wage; but if you will give it me back i'll give you a piece of advice instead." "give me my wage," said ivan. "no, i'll not," said the master; "i'll explain my advice." "tell it me, then," said ivan. then said the master, "never leave the old road for the sake of a new one." after that they agreed for another year at the old wages, and at the end of it ivan took instead a piece of advice, and this was it: "never lodge where an old man is married to a young woman." the same thing happened at the end of the third year, when the piece of advice was: "honesty is the best policy." but ivan would not stay longer, but wanted to go back to his wife. "don't go to-day," said his master; "my wife bakes to-morrow, and she shall make thee a cake to take home to thy good woman." and when ivan was going to leave, "here," said his master, "here is a cake for thee to take home to thy wife, and, when ye are most joyous together, then break the cake, and not sooner." so he took fair leave of them and travelled towards home, and at last he came to wayn her, and there he met three merchants from tre rhyn, of his own parish, coming home from exeter fair. "oho! ivan," said they, "come with us; glad are we to see you. where have you been so long?" "i have been in service," said ivan, "and now i'm going home to my wife." "oh, come with us! you'll be right welcome." but when they took the new road ivan kept to the old one. and robbers fell upon them before they had gone far from ivan as they were going by the fields of the houses in the meadow. they began to cry out, "thieves!" and ivan shouted out "thieves!" too. and when the robbers heard ivan's shout they ran away, and the merchants went by the new road and ivan by the old one till they met again at market-jew. "oh, ivan," said the merchants, "we are beholding to you; but for you we would have been lost men. come lodge with us at our cost, and welcome." when they came to the place where they used to lodge, ivan said, "i must see the host." "the host," they cried; "what do you want with the host? here is the hostess, and she's young and pretty. if you want to see the host you'll find him in the kitchen." so he went into the kitchen to see the host; he found him a weak old man turning the spit. "oh! oh!" quoth ivan, "i'll not lodge here, but will go next door." "not yet," said the merchants, "sup with us, and welcome." now it happened that the hostess had plotted with a certain monk in market-jew to murder the old man in his bed that night while the rest were asleep, and they agreed to lay it on the lodgers. so while ivan was in bed next door, there was a hole in the pine-end of the house, and he saw a light through it. so he got up and looked, and heard the monk speaking. "i had better cover this hole," said he, "or people in the next house may see our deeds." so he stood with his back against it while the hostess killed the old man. but meanwhile ivan out with his knife, and putting it through the hole, cut a round piece off the monk's robe. the very next morning the hostess raised the cry that her husband was murdered, and as there was neither man nor child in the house but the merchants, she declared they ought to be hanged for it. so they were taken and carried to prison, till a last ivan came to them. "alas! alas! ivan," cried they, "bad luck sticks to us; our host was killed last night, and we shall be hanged for it." "ah, tell the justices," said ivan, "to summon the real murderers." "who knows," they replied, "who committed the crime?" "who committed the crime!" said ivan. "if i cannot prove who committed the crime, hang me in your stead." so he told all he knew, and brought out the piece of cloth from the monk's robe, and with that the merchants were set at liberty, and the hostess and the monk were seized and hanged. then they came all together out of market-jew, and they said to him: "come as far as coed carrn y wylfa, the wood of the heap of stones of watching, in the parish of burman." then their two roads separated, and though the merchants wished ivan to go with them, he would not go with them, but went straight home to his wife. and when his wife saw him she said: "home in the nick of time. here's a purse of gold that i've found; it has no name, but sure it belongs to the great lord yonder. i was just thinking what to do when you came." then ivan thought of the third counsel, and he said "let us go and give it to the great lord." so they went up to the castle, but the great lord was not in it, so they left the purse with the servant that minded the gate, and then they went home again and lived in quiet for a time. but one day the great lord stopped at their house for a drink of water, and ivan's wife said to him: "i hope your lordship found your lordship's purse quite safe with all its money in it." "what purse is that you are talking about?" said the lord. "sure, it's your lordship's purse that i left at the castle," said ivan. "come with me and we will see into the matter," said the lord. so ivan and his wife went up to the castle, and there they pointed out the man to whom they had given the purse, and he had to give it up and was sent away from the castle. and the lord was so pleased with ivan that he made him his servant in the stead of the thief. "honesty's the best policy!" quoth ivan, as he skipped about in his new quarters. "how joyful i am!" then he thought of his old master's cake that he was to eat when he was most joyful, and when he broke it, to and behold, inside it was his wages for the three years he had been with him. andrew coffey my grandfather, andrew coffey, was known to the whole barony as a quiet, decent man. and if the whole barony knew him, he knew the whole barony, every inch, hill and dale, bog and pasture, field and covert. fancy his surprise one evening, when he found himself in a part of the demesne he couldn't recognise a bit. he and his good horse were always stumbling up against some tree or stumbling down into some bog-hole that by rights didn't ought to be there. on the top of all this the rain came pelting down wherever there was a clearing, and the cold march wind tore through the trees. glad he was then when he saw a light in the distance, and drawing near found a cabin, though for the life of him he couldn't think how it came there. however, in he walked, after tying up his horse, and right welcome was the brushwood fire blazing on the hearth. and there stood a chair right and tight, that seemed to say, "come, sit down in me." there wasn't a soul else in the room. well, he did sit, and got a little warm and cheered after his drenching. but all the while he was wondering and wondering. "andrew coffey! andrew coffey!" good heavens! who was calling him, and not a soul in sight? look around as he might, indoors and out, he could find no creature with two legs or four, for his horse was gone. "andrew coffey! andrew coffey! tell me a story." it was louder this time, and it was nearer. and then what a thing to ask for! it was bad enough not to be let sit by the fire and dry oneself, without being bothered for a story. "andrew coffey! andrew coffey!! tell me a story, or it'll be the worse for you." my poor grandfather was so dumbfounded that he could only stand and stare. "andrew coffey! andrew coffey! i told you it'd be the worse for you." and with that, out there bounced, from a cupboard that andrew coffey had never noticed before, _a man_. and the man was in a towering rage. but it wasn't that. and he carried as fine a blackthorn as you'd wish to crack a man's head with. but it wasn't that either. but when my grandfather clapped eyes on him, he knew him for patrick rooney, and all the world knew _he'd_ gone overboard, fishing one night long years before. andrew coffey would neither stop nor stay, but he took to his heels and was out of the house as hard as he could. he ran and he ran taking little thought of what was before till at last he ran up against a big tree. and then he sat down to rest. he hadn't sat for a moment when he heard voices. "it's heavy he is, the vagabond." "steady now, we'll rest when we get under the big tree yonder." now that happened to be the tree under which andrew coffey was sitting. at least he thought so, for seeing a branch handy he swung himself up by it and was soon snugly hidden away. better see than be seen, thought he. the rain had stopped and the wind fallen. the night was blacker than ever, but andrew coffey could see four men, and they were carrying between them a long box. under the tree they came, set the box down, opened it, and who should they bring out but--patrick rooney. never a word did he say, and he looked as pale as old snow. well, one gathered brushwood, and another took out tinder and flint, and soon they had a big fire roaring, and my grandfather could see patrick plainly enough. if he had kept still before, he kept stiller now. soon they had four poles up and a pole across, right over the fire, for all the world like a spit, and on to the pole they slung patrick rooney. "he'll do well enough," said one; "but who's to mind him whilst we're away, who'll turn the fire, who'll see that he doesn't burn?" with that patrick opened his lips: "andrew coffey," said he. "andrew coffey! andrew coffey! andrew coffey! andrew coffey!" "i'm much obliged to you, gentlemen," said andrew coffey, "but indeed i know nothing about the business." "you'd better come down, andrew coffey," said patrick. it was the second time he spoke, and andrew coffey decided he would come down. the four men went off and he was left all alone with patrick. then he sat and he kept the fire even, and he kept the spit turning, and all the while patrick looked at him. poor andrew coffey couldn't make it all out at all, at all, and he stared at patrick and at the fire, and he thought of the little house in the wood, till he felt quite dazed. "ah, but it's burning me ye are!" says patrick, very short and sharp. "i'm sure i beg your pardon," said my grandfather "but might i ask you a question?" "if you want a crooked answer," said patrick; "turn away or it'll be the worse for you." but my grandfather couldn't get it out of his head; hadn't everybody, far and near, said patrick had fallen overboard. there was enough to think about, and my grandfather did think. "andrew coffey! andrew coffey! it's burning me ye are." sorry enough my grandfather was, and he vowed he wouldn't do so again. "you'd better not," said patrick, and he gave him a cock of his eye, and a grin of his teeth, that just sent a shiver down andrew coffey's back. well it was odd, that here he should be in a thick wood he had never set eyes upon, turning patrick rooney upon a spit. you can't wonder at my grandfather thinking and thinking and not minding the fire. "andrew coffey, andrew coffey, it's the death of you i'll be." and with that what did my grandfather see, but patrick unslinging himself from the spit and his eyes glared and his teeth glistened. it was neither stop nor stay my grandfather made, but out he ran into the night of the wood. it seemed to him there wasn't a stone but was for his stumbling, not a branch but beat his face, not a bramble but tore his skin. and wherever it was clear the rain pelted down and the cold march wind howled along. glad he was to see a light, and a minute after he was kneeling, dazed, drenched, and bedraggled by the hearth side. the brushwood flamed, and the brushwood crackled, and soon my grandfather began to feel a little warm and dry and easy in his mind. "andrew coffey! andrew coffey!" it's hard for a man to jump when he has been through all my grandfather had, but jump he did. and when he looked around, where should he find himself but in the very cabin he had first met patrick in. "andrew coffey, andrew coffey, tell me a story." "is it a story you want?" said my grandfather as bold as may be, for he was just tired of being frightened. "well if you can tell me the rights of this one, i'll be thankful." and he told the tale of what had befallen him from first to last that night. the tale was long, and may be andrew coffey was weary. it's asleep he must have fallen, for when he awoke he lay on the hill-side under the open heavens, and his horse grazed at his side. the battle of the birds i will tell you a story about the wren. there was once a farmer who was seeking a servant, and the wren met him and said: "what are you seeking?" "i am seeking a servant," said the farmer to the wren. "will you take me?" said the wren. "you, you poor creature, what good would you do?" "try me," said the wren. so he engaged him, and the first work he set him to do was threshing in the barn. the wren threshed (what did he thresh with? why a flail to be sure), and he knocked off one grain. a mouse came out and she eats that. "i'll trouble you not to do that again," said the wren. he struck again, and he struck off two grains. out came the mouse and she eats them. so they arranged a contest to see who was strongest, and the wren brings his twelve birds, and the mouse her tribe. "you have your tribe with you," said the wren. "as well as yourself," said the mouse, and she struck out her leg proudly. but the wren broke it with his flail, and there was a pitched battle on a set day. when every creature and bird was gathering to battle, the son of the king of tethertown said that he would go to see the battle, and that he would bring sure word home to his father the king, who would be king of the creatures this year. the battle was over before he arrived all but one fight, between a great black raven and a snake. the snake was twined about the raven's neck, and the raven held the snake's throat in his beak, and it seemed as if the snake would get the victory over the raven. when the king's son saw this he helped the raven, and with one blow takes the head off the snake. when the raven had taken breath, and saw that the snake was dead, he said, "for thy kindness to me this day, i will give thee a sight. come up now on the root of my two wings." the king's son put his hands about the raven before his wings, and, before he stopped, he took him over nine bens, and nine glens, and nine mountain moors. "now," said the raven, "see you that house yonder? go now to it. it is a sister of mine that makes her dwelling in it; and i will go bail that you are welcome. and if she asks you, were you at the battle of the birds? say you were. and if she asks, 'did you see any one like me,' say you did, but be sure that you meet me to-morrow morning here, in this place." the king's son got good and right good treatment that night. meat of each meat, drink of each drink, warm water to his feet, and a soft bed for his limbs. on the next day the raven gave him the same sight over six bens, and six glens, and six mountain moors. they saw a bothy far off, but, though far off, they were soon there. he got good treatment this night, as before--plenty of meat and drink, and warm water to his feet, and a soft bed to his limbs--and on the next day it was the same thing, over three bens and three glens, and three mountain moors. on the third morning, instead of seeing the raven as at the other times, who should meet him but the handsomest lad he ever saw, with gold rings in his hair, with a bundle in his hand. the king's son asked this lad if he had seen a big black raven. said the lad to him, "you will never see the raven again, for i am that raven. i was put under spells by a bad druid; it was meeting you that loosed me, and for that you shall get this bundle. now," said the lad, "you must turn back on the self-same steps, and lie a night in each house as before; but you must not loose the bundle which i gave ye, till in the place where you would most wish to dwell." the king's son turned his back to the lad, and his face to his father's house; and he got lodging from the raven's sisters, just as he got it when going forward. when he was nearing his father's house he was going through a close wood. it seemed to him that the bundle was growing heavy, and he thought he would look what was in it. when he loosed the bundle he was astonished. in a twinkling he sees the very grandest place he ever saw. a great castle, and an orchard about the castle, in which was every kind of fruit and herb. he stood full of wonder and regret for having loosed the bundle--for it was not in his power to put it back again--and he would have wished this pretty place to be in the pretty little green hollow that was opposite his father's house; but he looked up and saw a great giant coming towards him. "bad's the place where you have built the house, king's son," says the giant. "yes, but it is not here i would wish it to be, though it happens to be here by mishap," says the king's son. "what's the reward for putting it back in the bundle as it was before?" "what's the reward you would ask?" says the king's son. "that you will give me the first son you have when he is seven years of age," says the giant. "if i have a son you shall have him," said the king's son. in a twinkling the giant put each garden, and orchard, and castle in the bundle as they were before. "now," says the giant, "take your own road, and i will take mine; but mind your promise, and if you forget i will remember." the king's son took to the road, and at the end of a few days he reached the place he was fondest of. he loosed the bundle, and the castle was just as it was before. and when he opened the castle door he sees the handsomest maiden he ever cast eye upon. "advance, king's son," said the pretty maid; "everything is in order for you, if you will marry me this very day." "it's i that am willing," said the king's son. and on the same day they married. but at the end of a day and seven years, who should be seen coming to the castle but the giant. the king's son was reminded of his promise to the giant, and till now he had not told his promise to the queen. "leave the matter between me and the giant," says the queen. "turn out your son," says the giant; "mind your promise." "you shall have him," says the king, "when his mother puts him in order for his journey." the queen dressed up the cook's son, and she gave him to the giant by the hand. the giant went away with him; but he had not gone far when he put a rod in the hand of the little laddie. the giant asked him-- "if thy father had that rod what would he do with it?" "if my father had that rod he would beat the dogs and the cats, so that they shouldn't be going near the king's meat," said the little laddie. "thou'rt the cook's son," said the giant. he catches him by the two small ankles and knocks him against the stone that was beside him. the giant turned back to the castle in rage and madness, and he said that if they did not send out the king's son to him, the highest stone of the castle would be the lowest. said the queen to the king, "we'll try it yet; the butler's son is of the same age as our son." she dressed up the butler's son, and she gives him to the giant by the hand. the giant had not gone far when he put the rod in his hand. "if thy father had that rod," says the giant, "what would he do with it?" "he would beat the dogs and the cats when they would be coming near the king's bottles and glasses." "thou art the son of the butler," says the giant and dashed his brains out too. the giant returned in a very great rage and anger. the earth shook under the sole of his feet, and the castle shook and all that was in it. "out here with thy son," says the giant, "or in a twinkling the stone that is highest in the dwelling will be the lowest." so they had to give the king's son to the giant. when they were gone a little bit from the earth, the giant showed him the rod that was in his hand and said: "what would thy father do with this rod if he had it?" the king's son said: "my father has a braver rod than that." and the giant asked him, "where is thy father when he has that brave rod?" and the king's son said: "he will be sitting in his kingly chair." then the giant understood that he had the right one. the giant took him to his own house, and he reared him as his own son. on a day of days when the giant was from home, the lad heard the sweetest music he ever heard in a room at the top of the giant's house. at a glance he saw the finest face he had ever seen. she beckoned to him to come a bit nearer to her, and she said her name was auburn mary but she told him to go this time, but to be sure to be at the same place about that dead midnight. and as he promised he did. the giant's daughter was at his side in a twinkling, and she said, "to-morrow you will get the choice of my two sisters to marry; but say that you will not take either, but me. my father wants me to marry the son of the king of the green city, but i don't like him." on the morrow the giant took out his three daughters, and he said: "now, son of the king of tethertown, thou hast not lost by living with me so long. thou wilt get to wife one of the two eldest of my daughters, and with her leave to go home with her the day after the wedding." "if you will give me this pretty little one," says the king's son, "i will take you at your word." the giant's wrath kindled, and he said: "before thou gett'st her thou must do the three things that i ask thee to do." "say on," says the king's son. the giant took him to the byre. "now," says the giant, "a hundred cattle are stabled here, and it has not been cleansed for seven years. i am going from home to-day, and if this byre is not cleaned before night comes, so clean that a golden apple will run from end to end of it, not only thou shalt not get my daughter, but 'tis only a drink of thy fresh, goodly, beautiful blood that will quench my thirst this night." he begins cleaning the byre, but he might just as well to keep baling the great ocean. after midday when sweat was blinding him, the giant's youngest daughter came where he was, and she said to him: "you are being punished, king's son." "i am that," says the king's son. "come over," says auburn mary, "and lay down your weariness." "i will do that," says he, "there is but death awaiting me, at any rate." he sat down near her. he was so tired that he fell asleep beside her. when he awoke, the giant's daughter was not to be seen, but the byre was so well cleaned that a golden apple would run from end to end of it and raise no stain. in comes the giant, and he said: "hast thou cleaned the byre, king's son?" "i have cleaned it," says he. "somebody cleaned it," says the giant. "you did not clean it, at all events," said the king's son. "well, well!" says the giant, "since thou wert so active to-day, thou wilt get to this time to-morrow to thatch this byre with birds' down, from birds with no two feathers of one colour." the king's son was on foot before the sun; he caught up his bow and his quiver of arrows to kill the birds. he took to the moors, but if he did, the birds were not so easy to take. he was running after them till the sweat was blinding him. about mid-day who should come but auburn mary. "you are exhausting yourself, king's son," says she. "i am," said he. "there fell but these two blackbirds, and both of one colour." "come over and lay down your weariness on this pretty hillock," says the giant's daughter. "it's i am willing," said he. he thought she would aid him this time, too, and he sat down near her, and he was not long there till he fell asleep. when he awoke, auburn mary was gone. he thought he would go back to the house, and he sees the byre thatched with feathers. when the giant came home, he said: "hast thou thatched the byre, king's son?" "i thatched it," says he. "somebody thatched it," says the giant. "you did not thatch it," says the king's son. "yes, yes!" says the giant. "now," says the giant, "there is a fir tree beside that loch down there, and there is a magpie's nest in its top. the eggs thou wilt find in the nest. i must have them for my first meal. not one must be burst or broken, and there are five in the nest." early in the morning the king's son went where the tree was, and that tree was not hard to hit upon. its match was not in the whole wood. from the foot to the first branch was five hundred feet. the king's son was going all round the tree. she came who was always bringing help to him. "you are losing the skin of your hands and feet." "ach! i am," says he. "i am no sooner up than down." "this is no time for stopping," says the giant's daughter. "now you must kill me, strip the flesh from my bones, take all those bones apart, and use them as steps for climbing the tree. when you are climbing the tree, they will stick to the glass as if they had grown out of it; but when you are coming down, and have put your foot on each one, they will drop into your hand when you touch them. be sure and stand on each bone, leave none untouched; if you do, it will stay behind. put all my flesh into this clean cloth by the side of the spring at the roots of the tree. when you come to the earth, arrange my bones together, put the flesh over them, sprinkle it with water from the spring, and i shall be alive before you. but don't forget a bone of me on the tree." "how could i kill you," asked the king's son, "after what you have done for me?" "if you won't obey, you and i are done for," said auburn mary. "you must climb the tree, or we are lost; and to climb the tree you must do as i say." the king's son obeyed. he killed auburn mary, cut the flesh from her body, and unjointed the bones, as she had told him. as he went up, the king's son put the bones of auburn mary's body against the side of the tree, using them as steps, till he came under the nest and stood on the last bone. then he took the eggs, and coming down, put his foot on every bone, then took it with him, till he came to the last bone, which was so near the ground that he failed to touch it with his foot. he now placed all the bones of auburn mary in order again at the side of the spring, put the flesh on them, sprinkled it with water from the spring. she rose up before him, and said: "didn't i tell you not to leave a bone of my body without stepping on it? now i am lame for life! you left my little finger on the tree without touching it, and i have but nine fingers." "now," says she, "go home with the eggs quickly, and you will get me to marry to-night if you can know me. i and my two sisters will be arrayed in the same garments, and made like each other, but look at me when my father says, 'go to thy wife, king's son;' and you will see a hand without a little finger." he gave the eggs to the giant. "yes, yes!" says the giant, "be making ready for your marriage." then, indeed, there was a wedding, and it _was_ a wedding! giants and gentlemen, and the son of the king of the green city was in the midst of them. they were married, and the dancing began, that was a dance! the giant's house was shaking from top to bottom. but bed time came, and the giant said, "it is time for thee to go to rest, son of the king of tethertown; choose thy bride to take with thee from amidst those." she put out the hand off which the little finger was, and he caught her by the hand. "thou hast aimed well this time too; but there is no knowing but we may meet thee another way," said the giant. but to rest they went. "now," says she, "sleep not, or else you are a dead man. we must fly quick, quick, or for certain my father will kill you." out they went, and on the blue grey filly in the stable they mounted. "stop a while," says she, "and i will play a trick to the old hero." she jumped in, and cut an apple into nine shares, and she put two shares at the head of the bed, and two shares at the foot of the bed, and two shares at the door of the kitchen, and two shares at the big door, and one outside the house. the giant awoke and called, "are you asleep?" "not yet," said the apple that was at the head of the bed. at the end of a while he called again. "not yet," said the apple that was at the foot of the bed. a while after this he called again: "are your asleep?" "not yet," said the apple at the kitchen door. the giant called again. the apple that was at the big door answered. "you are now going far from me," says the giant. "not yet," says the apple that was outside the house. "you are flying," says the giant. the giant jumped on his feet, and to the bed he went, but it was cold--empty. "my own daughter's tricks are trying me," said the giant. "here's after them," says he. at the mouth of day, the giant's daughter said that her father's breath was burning her back. "put your hand, quick," said she, "in the ear of the grey filly, and whatever you find in it, throw it behind us." "there is a twig of sloe tree," said he. "throw it behind us," said she. no sooner did he that, than there were twenty miles of blackthorn wood, so thick that scarce a weasel could go through it. the giant came headlong, and there he is fleecing his head and neck in the thorns. "my own daughter's tricks are here as before," said the giant; "but if i had my own big axe and wood knife here, i would not be long making a way through this." he went home for the big axe and the wood knife, and sure he was not long on his journey, and he was the boy behind the big axe. he was not long making a way through the blackthorn. "i will leave the axe and the wood knife here till i return," says he. "if you leave 'em, leave 'em," said a hoodie that was in a tree, "we'll steal 'em, steal 'em." "if you will do that," says the giant, "i must take them home." he returned home and left them at the house. at the heat of day the giant's daughter felt her father's breath burning her back. "put your finger in the filly's ear, and throw behind whatever you find in it." he got a splinter of grey stone, and in a twinkling there were twenty miles, by breadth and height, of great grey rock behind them. the giant came full pelt, but past the rock he could not go. "the tricks of my own daughter are the hardest things that ever met me," says the giant; "but if i had my lever and my mighty mattock, i would not be long in making my way through this rock also." there was no help for it, but to turn the chase for them; and he was the boy to split the stones. he was not long in making a road through the rock. "i will leave the tools here, and i will return no more." "if you leave 'em, leave 'em," says the hoodie, "we will steal 'em, steal 'em." "do that if you will; there is no time to go back." at the time of breaking the watch, the giant's daughter said that she felt her father's breath burning her back. "look in the filly's ear, king's son, or else we are lost." he did so, and it was a bladder of water that was in her ear this time. he threw it behind him and there was a fresh-water loch, twenty miles in length and breadth, behind them. the giant came on, but with the speed he had on him, he was in the middle of the loch, and he went under, and he rose no more. on the next day the young companions were come in sight of his father's house. "now," says she, "my father is drowned, and he won't trouble us any more; but before we go further," says she, "go you to your father's house, and tell that you have the likes of me; but let neither man nor creature kiss you, for if you do, you will not remember that you have ever seen me." every one he met gave him welcome and luck, and he charged his father and mother not to kiss him; but as mishap was to be, an old greyhound was indoors, and she knew him, and jumped up to his mouth, and after that he did not remember the giant's daughter. she was sitting at the well's side as he left her, but the king's son was not coming. in the mouth of night she climbed up into a tree of oak that was beside the well, and she lay in the fork of that tree all night. a shoemaker had a house near the well, and about mid-day on the morrow, the shoemaker asked his wife to go for a drink for him out of the well. when the shoemaker's wife reached the well, and when she saw the shadow of her that was in the tree, thinking it was her own shadow--and she never thought till now that she was so handsome--she gave a cast to the dish that was in her hand, and it was broken on the ground, and she took herself to the house without vessel or water. "where is the water, wife?" said the shoemaker. "you shambling, contemptible old carle, without grace, i have stayed too long your water and wood thrall." "i think, wife, that you have turned crazy. go you, daughter, quickly, and fetch a drink for your father." his daughter went, and in the same way so it happened to her. she never thought till now that she was so lovable, and she took herself home. "up with the drink," said her father. "you home-spun shoe carle, do you think i am fit to be your thrall?" the poor shoemaker thought that they had taken a turn in their understandings, and he went himself to the well. he saw the shadow of the maiden in the well, and he looked up to the tree, and he sees the finest woman he ever saw. "your seat is wavering, but your face is fair," said the shoemaker. "come down, for there is need of you for a short while at my house." the shoemaker understood that this was the shadow that had driven his people mad. the shoemaker took her to his house, and he said that he had but a poor bothy, but that she should get a share of all that was in it. one day, the shoemaker had shoes ready, for on that very day the king's son was to be married. the shoemaker was going to the castle with the shoes of the young people, and the girl said to the shoemaker, "i would like to get a sight of the king's son before he marries." "come with me," says the shoemaker, "i am well acquainted with the servants at the castle, and you shall get a sight of the king's son and all the company." and when the gentles saw the pretty woman that was here they took her to the wedding-room, and they filled for her a glass of wine. when she was going to drink what is in it, a flame went up out of the glass, and a golden pigeon and a silver pigeon sprang out of it. they were flying about when three grains of barley fell on the floor. the silver pigeon sprung, and ate that up. said the golden pigeon to him, "if you remembered when i cleared the byre, you would not eat that without giving me a share." again there fell three other grains of barley, and the silver pigeon sprung, and ate that up as before. "if you remembered when i thatched the byre, you would not eat that without giving me my share," says the golden pigeon. three other grains fall, and the silver pigeon sprung, and ate that up. "if you remembered when i harried the magpie's nest, you would not eat that without giving me my share," says the golden pigeon; "i lost my little finger bringing it down, and i want it still." the king's son minded, and he knew who it was that was before him. "well," said the king's son to the guests at the feast, "when i was a little younger than i am now, i lost the key of a casket that i had. i had a new key made, but after it was brought to me i found the old one. now, i'll leave it to any one here to tell me what i am to do. which of the keys should i keep?" "my advice to you," said one of the guests, "is to keep the old key, for it fits the lock better and you're more used to it." then the king's son stood up and said: "i thank you for a wise advice and an honest word. this is my bride the daughter of the giant who saved my life at the risk of her own. i'll have her and no other woman." so the king's son married auburn mary and the wedding lasted long and all were happy. but all i got was butter on a live coal, porridge in a basket, and they sent me for water to the stream, and the paper shoes came to an end. brewery of eggshells in treneglwys there is a certain shepherd's cot known by the name of twt y cymrws because of the strange strife that occurred there. there once lived there a man and his wife, and they had twins whom the woman nursed tenderly. one day she was called away to the house of a neighbour at some distance. she did not much like going and leaving her little ones all alone in a solitary house, especially as she had heard tell of the good folk haunting the neighbourhood. well, she went and came back as soon as she could, but on her way back she was frightened to see some old elves of the blue petticoat crossing her path though it was midday. she rushed home, but found her two little ones in the cradle and everything seemed as it was before. but after a time the good people began to suspect that something was wrong, for the twins didn't grow at all. the man said: "they're not ours." the woman said: "whose else should they be?" and so arose the great strife so that the neighbours named the cottage after it. it made the woman very sad, so one evening she made up her mind to go and see the wise man of llanidloes, for he knew everything and would advise her what to do. so she went to llanidloes and told the case to the wise man. now there was soon to be a harvest of rye and oats, so the wise man said to her, "when you are getting dinner for the reapers, clear out the shell of a hen's egg and boil some potage in it, and then take it to the door as if you meant it as a dinner for the reapers. then listen if the twins say anything. if you hear them speaking of things beyond the understanding of children, go back and take them up and throw them into the waters of lake elvyn. but if you don't hear anything remarkable, do them no injury." so when the day of the reap came the woman did all that the wise man ordered, and put the eggshell on the fire and took it off and carried it to the door, and there she stood and listened. then she heard one of the children say to the other: acorn before oak i knew, an egg before a hen, but i never heard of an eggshell brew a dinner for harvest men. so she went back into the house, seized the children and threw them into the llyn, and the goblins in their blue trousers came and saved their dwarfs and the mother had her own children back and so the great strife ended. the lad with the goat-skin long ago, a poor widow woman lived down near the iron forge, by enniscorth, and she was so poor she had no clothes to put on her son; so she used to fix him in the ash-hole, near the fire, and pile the warm ashes about him; and according as he grew up, she sunk the pit deeper. at last, by hook or by crook, she got a goat-skin, and fastened it round his waist, and he felt quite grand, and took a walk down the street. so says she to him next morning, "tom, you thief, you never done any good yet, and you six foot high, and past nineteen;--take that rope and bring me a faggot from the wood." "never say't twice, mother," says tom--"here goes." when he had it gathered and tied, what should come up but a big giant, nine foot high, and made a lick of a club at him. well become tom, he jumped a-one side, and picked up a ram-pike; and the first crack he gave the big fellow, he made him kiss the clod. "if you have e'er a prayer," says tom, "now's the time to say it, before i make fragments of you." "i have no prayers," says the giant; "but if you spare my life i'll give you that club; and as long as you keep from sin, you'll win every battle you ever fight with it." tom made no bones about letting him off; and as soon as he got the club in his hands, he sat down on the bresna, and gave it a tap with the kippeen, and says, "faggot, i had great trouble gathering you, and run the risk of my life for you, the least you can do is to carry me home." and sure enough, the wind o' the word was all it wanted. it went off through the wood, groaning and crackling, till it came to the widow's door. well, when the sticks were all burned, tom was sent off again to pick more; and this time he had to fight with a giant that had two heads on him. tom had a little more trouble with him--that's all; and the prayers he said, was to give tom a fife; that nobody could help dancing when he was playing it. begonies, he made the big faggot dance home, with himself sitting on it. the next giant was a beautiful boy with three heads on him. he had neither prayers nor catechism no more nor the others; and so he gave tom a bottle of green ointment, that wouldn't let you be burned, nor scalded, nor wounded. "and now," says he, "there's no more of us. you may come and gather sticks here till little lunacy day in harvest, without giant or fairy-man to disturb you." well, now, tom was prouder nor ten paycocks, and used to take a walk down street in the heel of the evening; but some o' the little boys had no more manners than if they were dublin jackeens, and put out their tongues at tom's club and tom's goat-skin. he didn't like that at all, and it would be mean to give one of them a clout. at last, what should come through the town but a kind of a bellman, only it's a big bugle he had, and a huntsman's cap on his head, and a kind of a painted shirt. so this--he wasn't a bellman, and i don't know what to call him--bugleman, maybe, proclaimed that the king of dublin's daughter was so melancholy that she didn't give a laugh for seven years, and that her father would grant her in marriage to whoever could make her laugh three times. "that's the very thing for me to try," says tom; and so, without burning any more daylight, he kissed his mother, curled his club at the little boys, and off he set along the yalla highroad to the town of dublin. at last tom came to one of the city gates, and the guards laughed and cursed at him instead of letting him in. tom stood it all for a little time, but at last one of them--out of fun, as he said--drove his bayonet half an inch or so into his side. tom done nothing but take the fellow by the scruff o' the neck and the waistband of his corduroys, and fling him into the canal. some run to pull the fellow out, and others to let manners into the vulgarian with their swords and daggers; but a tap from his club sent them headlong into the moat or down on the stones, and they were soon begging him to stay his hands. so at last one of them was glad enough to show tom the way to the palace-yard; and there was the king, and the queen, and the princess, in a gallery, looking at all sorts of wrestling, and sword-playing, and long-dances, and mumming, all to please the princess; but not a smile came over her handsome face. well, they all stopped when they seen the young giant, with his boy's face, and long black hair, and his short curly beard--for his poor mother couldn't afford to buy razors--and his great strong arms, and bare legs, and no covering but the goat-skin that reached from his waist to his knees. but an envious wizened bit of a fellow, with a red head, that wished to be married to the princess, and didn't like how she opened her eyes at tom, came forward, and asked his business very snappishly. "my business," says tom, says he, "is to make the beautiful princess, god bless her, laugh three times." "do you see all them merry fellows and skilful swordsmen," says the other, "that could eat you up with a grain of salt, and not a mother's soul of 'em ever got a laugh from her these seven years?" so the fellows gathered round tom, and the bad man aggravated him till he told them he didn't care a pinch o' snuff for the whole bilin' of 'em; let 'em come on, six at a time, and try what they could do. the king, who was too far off to hear what they were saying, asked what did the stranger want. "he wants," says the red-headed fellow, "to make hares of your best men." "oh!" says the king, "if that's the way, let one of 'em turn out and try his mettle." so one stood forward, with sword and pot-lid, and made a cut at tom. he struck the fellow's elbow with the club, and up over their heads flew the sword, and down went the owner of it on the gravel from a thump he got on the helmet. another took his place, and another, and another, and then half a dozen at once, and tom sent swords, helmets, shields, and bodies, rolling over and over, and themselves bawling out that they were kilt, and disabled, and damaged, and rubbing their poor elbows and hips, and limping away. tom contrived not to kill any one; and the princess was so amused, that she let a great sweet laugh out of her that was heard over all the yard. "king of dublin," says tom, "i've quarter your daughter." and the king didn't know whether he was glad or sorry, and all the blood in the princess's heart run into her cheeks. so there was no more fighting that day, and tom was invited to dine with the royal family. next day, redhead told tom of a wolf, the size of a yearling heifer, that used to be serenading about the walls, and eating people and cattle; and said what a pleasure it would give the king to have it killed. "with all my heart," says tom; "send a jackeen to show me where he lives, and we'll see how he behaves to a stranger." the princess was not well pleased, for tom looked a different person with fine clothes and a nice green birredh over his long curly hair; and besides, he'd got one laugh out of her. however, the king gave his consent; and in an hour and a half the horrible wolf was walking into the palace-yard, and tom a step or two behind, with his club on his shoulder, just as a shepherd would be walking after a pet lamb. the king and queen and princess were safe up in their gallery, but the officers and people of the court that wor padrowling about the great bawn, when they saw the big baste coming in, gave themselves up, and began to make for doors and gates; and the wolf licked his chops, as if he was saying, "wouldn't i enjoy a breakfast off a couple of yez!" the king shouted out, "o tom with the goat-skin, take away that terrible wolf, and you must have all my daughter." but tom didn't mind him a bit. he pulled out his flute and began to play like vengeance; and dickens a man or boy in the yard but began shovelling away heel and toe, and the wolf himself was obliged to get on his hind legs and dance "tatther jack walsh," along with the rest. a good deal of the people got inside, and shut the doors, the way the hairy fellow wouldn't pin them; but tom kept playing, and the outsiders kept dancing and shouting, and the wolf kept dancing and roaring with the pain his legs were giving him; and all the time he had his eyes on redhead, who was shut out along with the rest. wherever redhead went, the wolf followed, and kept one eye on him and the other on tom, to see if he would give him leave to eat him. but tom shook his head, and never stopped the tune, and redhead never stopped dancing and bawling, and the wolf dancing and roaring, one leg up and the other down, and he ready to drop out of his standing from fair tiresomeness. when the princess seen that there was no fear of any one being kilt, she was so divarted by the stew that redhead was in, that she gave another great laugh; and well become tom, out he cried, "king of dublin, i have two halves of your daughter." "oh, halves or alls," says the king, "put away that divel of a wolf, and we'll see about it." so tom put his flute in his pocket, and says he to the baste that was sittin' on his currabingo ready to faint, "walk off to your mountain, my fine fellow, and live like a respectable baste; and if ever i find you come within seven miles of any town, i'll--" he said no more, but spit in his fist, and gave a flourish of his club. it was all the poor divel of a wolf wanted: he put his tail between his legs, and took to his pumps without looking at man or mortal, and neither sun, moon, or stars ever saw him in sight of dublin again. at dinner every one laughed but the foxy fellow; and sure enough he was laying out how he'd settle poor tom next day. "well, to be sure!" says he, "king of dublin, you are in luck. there's the danes moidhering us to no end. deuce run to lusk wid 'em! and if any one can save us from 'em, it is this gentleman with the goat-skin. there is a flail hangin' on the collar-beam, in hell, and neither dane nor devil can stand before it." "so," says tom to the king, "will you let me have the other half of the princess if i bring you the flail?" "no, no," says the princess; "i'd rather never be your wife than see you in that danger." but redhead whispered and nudged tom about how shabby it would look to reneague the adventure. so he asked which way he was to go, and redhead directed him. well, he travelled and travelled, till he came in sight of the walls of hell; and, bedad, before he knocked at the gates, he rubbed himself over with the greenish ointment. when he knocked, a hundred little imps popped their heads out through the bars, and axed him what he wanted. "i want to speak to the big divel of all," says tom: "open the gate." it wasn't long till the gate was thrune open, and the ould boy received tom with bows and scrapes, and axed his business. "my business isn't much," says tom. "i only came for the loan of that flail that i see hanging on the collar-beam, for the king of dublin to give a thrashing to the danes." "well," says the other, "the danes is much better customers to me; but since you walked so far i won't refuse. hand that flail," says he to a young imp; and he winked the far-off eye at the same time. so, while some were barring the gates, the young devil climbed up, and took down the flail that had the handstaff and booltheen both made out of red-hot iron. the little vagabond was grinning to think how it would burn the hands o' tom, but the dickens a burn it made on him, no more nor if it was a good oak sapling. "thankee," says tom. "now would you open the gate for a body, and i'll give you no more trouble." "oh, tramp!" says ould nick; "is that the way? it is easier getting inside them gates than getting out again. take that tool from him, and give him a dose of the oil of stirrup." so one fellow put out his claws to seize on the flail, but tom gave him such a welt of it on the side of the head that he broke off one of his horns, and made him roar like a devil as he was. well, they rushed at tom, but he gave them, little and big, such a thrashing as they didn't forget for a while. at last says the ould thief of all, rubbing his elbow, "let the fool out; and woe to whoever lets him in again, great or small." so out marched tom, and away with him, without minding the shouting and cursing they kept up at him from the tops of the walls; and when he got home to the big bawn of the palace, there never was such running and racing as to see himself and the flail. when he had his story told, he laid down the flail on the stone steps, and bid no one for their lives to touch it. if the king, and queen, and princess, made much of him before, they made ten times more of him now; but redhead, the mean scruff-hound, stole over, and thought to catch hold of the flail to make an end of him. his fingers hardly touched it, when he let a roar out of him as if heaven and earth were coming together, and kept flinging his arms about and dancing, that it was pitiful to look at him. tom run at him as soon as he could rise, caught his hands in his own two, and rubbed them this way and that, and the burning pain left them before you could reckon one. well the poor fellow, between the pain that was only just gone, and the comfort he was in, had the comicalest face that you ever see, it was such a mixtherum-gatherum of laughing and crying. everybody burst out a laughing--the princess could not stop no more than the rest; and then says tom, "now, ma'am, if there were fifty halves of you, i hope you'll give me them all." well, the princess looked at her father, and by my word, she came over to tom, and put her two delicate hands into his two rough ones, and i wish it was myself was in his shoes that day! tom would not bring the flail into the palace. you may be sure no other body went near it; and when the early risers were passing next morning, they found two long clefts in the stone, where it was after burning itself an opening downwards, nobody could tell how far. but a messenger came in at noon, and said that the danes were so frightened when they heard of the flail coming into dublin, that they got into their ships, and sailed away. well, i suppose, before they were married, tom got some man, like pat mara of tomenine, to learn him the "principles of politeness," fluxions, gunnery, and fortification, decimal fractions, practice, and the rule of three direct, the way he'd be able to keep up a conversation with the royal family. whether he ever lost his time learning them sciences, i'm not sure, but it's as sure as fate that his mother never more saw any want till the end of her days. man or woman boy or girl that reads what follows times shall fall asleep an hundred years john d. batten drew this aug. th, good-night notes and references it may be as well to give the reader some account of the enormous extent of the celtic folk-tales in existence. i reckon these to extend to , though only about are in print. the former number exceeds that known in france, italy, germany, and russia, where collection has been most active, and is only exceeded by the ms. collection of finnish folk-tales at helsingfors, said to exceed , . as will be seen, this superiority of the celts is due to the phenomenal and patriotic activity of one man, the late j. f. campbell, of islay, whose _popular tales_ and ms. collections (partly described by mr. alfred nutt in _folk-lore_, i. - ) contain references to no less than tales (many of them, of course, variants and scraps). celtic folk-tales, while more numerous, are also the oldest of the tales of modern european races; some of them--_e.g._, "connla," in the present selection, occurring in the oldest irish vellums. they include ( ) fairy tales properly so-called--_i.e._, tales or anecdotes _about_ fairies, hobgoblins, &c., told as natural occurrences; ( ) hero-tales, stories of adventure told of national or mythical heroes; ( ) folk-tales proper, describing marvellous adventures of otherwise unknown heroes, in which there is a defined plot and supernatural characters (speaking animals, giants, dwarfs, &c.); and finally ( ) drolls, comic anecdotes of feats of stupidity or cunning. the collection of celtic folk-tales began in ireland as early as , with t. crofton croker's _fairy legends and traditions of the south of ireland_. this contained some anecdotes of the first class mentioned above, anecdotes showing the belief of the irish peasantry in the existence of fairies, gnomes, goblins, and the like. the grimms did croker the honour of translating part of his book, under the title of _irische elfenmärchen_. among the novelists and tale-writers of the schools of miss edgeworth and lever folk-tales were occasionally utilised, as by carleton in his _traits and stories_, by s. lover in his _legends and stories_, and by g. griffin in his _tales of a jury-room_. these all tell their tales in the manner of the stage irishman. chapbooks, _royal fairy tales_ and _hibernian tales_, also contained genuine folk-tales, and attracted thackeray's attention in his _irish sketch-book_. the irish grimm, however, was patrick kennedy, a dublin bookseller, who believed in fairies, and in five years ( - ) printed about folk- and hero-tales and drolls (classes , , and above) in his _legendary fictions of the irish celts_, , _fireside stories of ireland_, , and _bardic stories of ireland_, ; all three are now unfortunately out of print. he tells his stories neatly and with spirit, and retains much that is _volkstümlich_ in his diction. he derived his materials from the english-speaking peasantry of county wexford, who changed from gaelic to english while story-telling was in full vigour, and therefore carried over the stories with the change of language. lady wylde has told many folk-tales very effectively in her _ancient legends of ireland_, . more recently two collectors have published stories gathered from peasants of the west and north who can only speak gaelic. these are by an american gentleman named curtin, _myths and folk-tales of ireland_, ; while dr. douglas hyde has published in _beside the fireside_, , spirited english versions of some of the stories he had published in the original irish in his _leabhar sgeulaighteachta_, dublin, . miss maclintoch has a large ms. collection, part of which has appeared in various periodicals; and messrs. larminie and d. fitzgerald are known to have much story material in their possession. but beside these more modern collections there exist in old and middle irish a large number of hero-tales (class ) which formed the staple of the old _ollahms_ or bards. of these tales of "cattle-liftings, elopements, battles, voyages, courtships, caves, lakes, feasts, sieges, and eruptions," a bard of even the fourth class had to know seven fifties, presumably one for each day of the year. sir william temple knew of a north-country gentleman of ireland who was sent to sleep every evening with a fresh tale from his bard. the _book of leinster_, an irish vellum of the twelfth century, contains a list of of these hero-tales, many of which are extant to this day; e. o'curry gives the list in the appendix to his ms. _materials of irish history_. another list of about is given in the preface to the third volume of the ossianic society's publications. dr. joyce published a few of the more celebrated of these in _old celtic romances_; others appeared in _atlantis_ (see notes on "deirdre"), others in kennedy's _bardic stories_, mentioned above. turning to scotland, we must put aside chambers' _popular rhymes of scotland_, , which contains for the most part folk-tales common with those of england rather than those peculiar to the gaelic-speaking scots. the first name here in time as in importance is that of j. f. campbell, of islay. his four volumes, _popular tales of the west highlands_ (edinburgh, - , recently republished by the islay association), contain some folk- and hero-tales, told with strict adherence to the language of the narrators, which is given with a literal, a rather too literal, english version. this careful accuracy has given an un-english air to his versions, and has prevented them attaining their due popularity. what campbell has published represents only a tithe of what he collected. at the end of the fourth volume he gives a list of tales, &c., collected by him or his assistants in the two years - ; and in his ms. collections at edinburgh are two other lists containing more tales. only a portion of these are in the advocates' library; the rest, if extant, must be in private hands, though they are distinctly of national importance and interest. campbell's influence has been effective of recent years in scotland. the _celtic magazine_ (vols. xii. and xiii.), while under the editorship of mr. macbain, contained several folk- and hero-tales in gaelic, and so did the _scotch celtic review_. these were from the collections of messrs. campbell of tiree, carmichael, and k. mackenzie. recently lord archibald campbell has shown laudable interest in the preservation of gaelic folk- and hero-tales. under his auspices a whole series of handsome volumes, under the general title of _waifs and strays of celtic tradition_, has been recently published, four volumes having already appeared, each accompanied by notes by mr. alfred nutt, which form the most important aid to the study of celtic folk-tales since campbell himself. those to the second volume in particular (tales collected by rev. d. macinnes) fill pages, with condensed information on all aspects of the subject dealt with in the light of the most recent research in the european folk-tales as well as on celtic literature. thanks to mr. nutt, scotland is just now to the fore in the collection and study of the british folk-tale. wales makes a poor show beside ireland and scotland. sikes' _british goblins_, and the tales collected by prof. rhys in _y cymrodor_, vols. ii.-vi., are mainly of our first-class fairy anecdotes. borrow, in his _wild wales_, refers to a collection of fables in a journal called _the greal_, while the _cambrian quarterly magazine_ for and contained a few fairy anecdotes, including a curious version of the "brewery of eggshells" from the welsh. in the older literature, the _iolo ms._, published by the welsh ms. society, has a few fables and apologues, and the charming _mabinogion_, translated by lady guest, has tales that can trace back to the twelfth century and are on the border-line between folk-tales and hero-tales. cornwall and man are even worse than wales. hunt's _drolls from the west of england_ has nothing distinctively celtic, and it is only by a chance lhuyd chose a folk-tale as his specimen of cornish in his _archaeologia britannica_, (see _tale of ivan_). the manx folk-tales published, including the most recent by mr. moore, in his _folk-lore of the isle of man_, , are mainly fairy anecdotes and legends. from this survey of the field of celtic folk-tales it is clear that ireland and scotland provide the lion's share. the interesting thing to notice is the remarkable similarity of scotch and irish folk-tales. the continuity of language and culture between these two divisions of gaeldom has clearly brought about this identity of their folk-tales. as will be seen from the following notes, the tales found in scotland can almost invariably be paralleled by those found in ireland, and _vice versa_. this result is a striking confirmation of the general truth that folk-lores of different countries resemble one another in proportion to their contiguity and to the continuity of language and culture between them. another point of interest in these celtic folk-tales is the light they throw upon the relation of hero-tales and folk-tales (classes and above). tales told of finn of cuchulain, and therefore coming under the definition of hero-tales, are found elsewhere told of anonymous or unknown heroes. the question is, were the folk-tales the earliest, and were they localised and applied to the heroes, or were the heroic sagas generalised and applied to an unknown [greek: tis]? all the evidence, in my opinion, inclines to the former view, which, as applied to celtic folk-tales, is of very great literary importance; for it is becoming more and more recognised, thanks chiefly to the admirable work of mr. alfred nutt, in his _studies on the holy grail_, that the outburst of european romance in the twelfth century was due, in large measure, to an infusion of celtic hero-tales into the literature of the romance-speaking nations. now the remarkable thing is, how these hero tales have lingered on in oral tradition even to the present day. (see a marked case in "deirdre.") we may, therefore, hope to see considerable light thrown on the most characteristic spiritual product of the middle ages, the literature of romance and the spirit of chivalry, from the celtic folk-tales of the present day. mr. alfred nutt has already shown this to be true of a special section of romance literature, that connected with the holy grail, and it seems probable that further study will extend the field of application of this new method of research. the celtic folk-tale again has interest in retaining many traits of primitive conditions among the early inhabitants of these isles which are preserved by no other record. take, for instance, the calm assumption of polygamy in "gold tree and silver tree." that represents a state of feeling that is decidedly pre-christian. the belief in an external soul "life index," recently monographed by mr. frazer in his "golden bough," also finds expression in a couple of the tales (see notes on "sea-maiden" and "fair, brown, and trembling"), and so with many other primitive ideas. care, however, has to be taken in using folk-tales as evidence for primitive practice among the nations where they are found. for the tales may have come from another race--that is, for example, probably the case with "gold tree and silver tree" (see notes). celtic tales are of peculiar interest in this connection, as they afford one of the best fields for studying the problem of diffusion, the most pressing of the problems of the folk-tales just at present, at least in my opinion. the celts are at the furthermost end of europe. tales that travelled to them could go no further and must therefore be the last links in the chain. for all these reasons, then, celtic folk-tales are of high scientific interest to the folk-lorist, while they yield to none in imaginative and literary qualities. in any other country of europe some national means of recording them would have long ago been adopted. m. luzel, _e.g._, was commissioned by the french minister of public instruction to collect and report on the breton folk-tales. england, here as elsewhere without any organised means of scientific research in the historical and philological sciences, has to depend on the enthusiasm of a few private individuals for work of national importance. every celt of these islands or in the gaeldom beyond the sea, and every celt-lover among the english-speaking nations, should regard it as one of the duties of the race to put its traditions on record in the few years that now remain before they will cease for ever to be living in the hearts and memories of the humbler members of the race. in the following notes i have done as in my _english fairy tales_, and given first, the _sources_ whence i drew the tales, then _parallels_ at length for the british isles, with bibliographical references for parallels abroad, and finally, _remarks_ where the tales seemed to need them. in these i have not wearied or worried the reader with conventional tall talk about the celtic genius and its manifestations in the folk-tale; on that topic one can only repeat matthew arnold when at his best, in his _celtic literature_. nor have i attempted to deal with the more general aspects of the study of the celtic folk-tale. for these i must refer to mr. nutt's series of papers in _the celtic magazine_, vol. xii., or, still better, to the masterly introductions he is contributing to the series of _waifs and strays of celtic tradition_, and to dr. hyde's _beside the fireside_. in my remarks i have mainly confined myself to discussing the origin and diffusion of the various tales, so far as anything definite could be learnt or conjectured on that subject. before proceeding to the notes, i may "put in," as the lawyers say, a few summaries of the results reached in them. of the twenty-six tales, twelve (i., ii., v., viii., ix., x., xi., xv., xvi., xvii., xix., xxiv.) have gaelic originals; three (vii., xiii., xxv.) are from the welsh; one (xxii.) from the now extinct cornish; one an adaptation of an english poem founded on a welsh tradition (xxi., "gellert"); and the remaining nine are what may be termed anglo-irish. regarding their diffusion among the celts, twelve are both irish and scotch (iv., v., vi., ix., x., xiv.-xvii., xix., xx., xxiv); one (xxv.) is common to irish and welsh; and one (xxii.) to irish and cornish; seven are found only among the celts in ireland (i.-iii., xii., xviii., xxii., xxvi); two (viii., xi.) among the scotch; and three (vii., xiii., xxi.) among the welsh. finally, so far as we can ascertain their origin, four (v., xvi., xxi., xxii.) are from the east; five (vi., x., xiv., xx., xxv.) are european drolls; three of the romantic tales seem to have been imported (vii., ix., xix.); while three others are possibly celtic exportations to the continent (xv., xvii., xxiv.) though the, last may have previously come thence; the remaining eleven are, as far as known, original to celtic lands. somewhat the same result would come out, i believe, as the analysis of any representative collection of folk-tales of any european district. i. connla and the fairy maiden. _source_.--from the old irish "echtra condla chaim maic cuind chetchathaig" of the _leabhar na h-uidhre_ ("book of the dun cow"), which must have been written before , when its scribe maelmori ("servant of mary") was murdered. the original is given by windisch in his _irish grammar_, p. , also in the _trans. kilkenny archaeol. soc._ for . a fragment occurs in a rawlinson ms., described by dr. w. stokes, _tripartite life_, p. xxxvi. i have used the translation of prof. zimmer in his _keltische beiträge_, ii. (_zeits. f. deutsches altertum_, bd. xxxiii. - ). dr. joyce has a somewhat florid version in, his _old celtic romances_, from which i have borrowed a touch or two. i have neither extenuated nor added aught but the last sentence of the fairy maiden's last speech. part of the original is in metrical form, so that the whole is of the _cante-fable_ species which i believe to be the original form of the folk-tale (cf. _eng. fairy tales_, notes, p. , and _infra_, p. ). _parallels_.--prof. zimmer's paper contains three other accounts of the _terra repromissionis_ in the irish sagas, one of them being the similar adventure of cormac the nephew of connla, or condla ruad as he should be called. the fairy apple of gold occurs in cormac mac art's visit to the brug of manannan (nutt's _holy grail_, ). _remarks_.--conn the hundred-fighter had the head-kingship of ireland - a.d., according to the _annals of the four masters_, i. . on the day of his birth the five great roads from tara to all parts of ireland were completed: one of them from dublin is still used. connaught is said to have been named after him, but this is scarcely consonant with joyce's identification with ptolemy's _nagnatai_ (_irish local names_, i. ). but there can be little doubt of conn's existence as a powerful ruler in ireland in the second century. the historic existence of connla seems also to be authenticated by the reference to him as conly, the eldest son of conn, in the annals of clonmacnoise. as conn was succeeded by his third son, art enear, connla was either slain or disappeared during his father's lifetime. under these circumstances it is not unlikely that our legend grew up within the century after conn--_i.e._, during the latter half of the second century. as regards the present form of it, prof. zimmer (_l.c._ - ) places it in the seventh century. it has clearly been touched up by a christian hand who introduced the reference to the day of judgment and to the waning power of the druids. but nothing turns upon this interpolation, so that it is likely that even the present form of the legend is pre-christian-_i.e._ for ireland, pre-patrician, before the fifth century. the tale of connla is thus the earliest fairy tale of modern europe. besides this interest it contains an early account of one of the most characteristic celtic conceptions, that of the earthly paradise, the isle of youth, _tir-nan-og_. this has impressed itself on the european imagination; in the arthuriad it is represented by the vale of avalon, and as represented in the various celtic visions of the future life, it forms one of the main sources of dante's _divina commedia_. it is possible too, i think, that the homeric hesperides and the fortunate isles of the ancients had a celtic origin (as is well known, the early place-names of europe are predominantly celtic). i have found, i believe, a reference to the conception in one of the earliest passages in the classics dealing with the druids. lucan, in his _pharsalia_ (i. - ), addresses them in these high terms of reverence: et vos barbaricos ritus, moremque sinistrum, sacrorum, druidae, positis repetistis ab armis, solis nosse deos et coeli numera vobis aut solis nescire datum; nemora alta remotis incolitis lucis. vobis auctoribus umbrae, non tacitas erebi sedes, ditisque profundi, pallida regna petunt: _regit idem spiritus artus orbe alio_: longae, canitis si cognita, vitae mors media est. the passage certainly seems to me to imply a different conception from the ordinary classical views of the life after death, the dark and dismal plains of erebus peopled with ghosts; and the passage i have italicised would chime in well with the conception of a continuance of youth (_idem spiritus_) in tir-nan-og (_orbe alio_). one of the most pathetic, beautiful, and typical scenes in irish legend is the return of ossian from tir-nan-og, and his interview with st. patrick. the old faith and the new, the old order of things and that which replaced it, meet in two of the most characteristic products of the irish imagination (for the patrick of legend is as much a legendary figure as oisin himself). ossian had gone away to tir-nan-og with the fairy niamh under very much the same circumstances as condla ruad; time flies in the land of eternal youth, and when ossian returns, after a year as he thinks, more than three centuries had passed, and st. patrick had just succeeded in introducing the new faith. the contrast of past and present has never been more vividly or beautifully represented. ii. guleesh. _source_.--from dr. douglas hyde's _beside the fire_, - , where it is a translation from the same author's _leabhar sgeulaighteachta_. dr hyde got it from one shamus o'hart, a gamekeeper of frenchpark. one is curious to know how far the very beautiful landscapes in the story are due to dr. hyde, who confesses to have only taken notes. i have omitted a journey to rome, paralleled, as mr. nutt has pointed out, by the similar one of michael scott (_waifs and strays_, i. ), and not bearing on the main lines of the story. i have also dropped a part of guleesh's name: in the original he is "guleesh na guss dhu," guleesh of the black feet, because he never washed them; nothing turns on this in the present form of the story, but one cannot but suspect it was of importance in the original form. _parallels_.--dr. hyde refers to two short stories, "midnight ride" (to rome) and "stolen bride," in lady wilde's _ancient legends_. but the closest parallel is given by miss maclintock's donegal tale of "jamie freel and the young lady," reprinted in mr. yeats' _irish folk and fairy tales_, - . in the _hibernian tales_, "mann o' malaghan and the fairies," as reported by thackeray in the _irish sketch-book_, c. xvi., begins like "guleesh." iii. field of boliauns. _source_.--t. crofton croker's _fairy legends of the south of ireland_, ed. wright, pp. - . in the original the gnome is a cluricaune, but as a friend of mr. batten's has recently heard the tale told of a lepracaun, i have adopted the better known title. _remarks_.--_lepracaun_ is from the irish _leith bhrogan_, the one-shoemaker (_cf_. brogue), according to dr. hyde. he is generally seen (and to this day, too) working at a single shoe, _cf._ croker's story "little shoe," _l.c._ pp. - . according to a writer in the _revue celtique_, i. , the true etymology is _luchor pan_, "little man." dr. joyce also gives the same etymology in _irish names and places_, i. , where he mentions several places named after them. iv. horned women. _source_.--lady wilde's _ancient legends_, the first story. _parallels_.--a similar version was given by mr. d. fitzgerald in the _revue celtique_, iv. , but without the significant and impressive horns. he refers to _cornhill_ for february , and to campbell's "sauntraigh" no. xxii. _pop. tales_, ii. , in which a "woman of peace" (a fairy) borrows a woman's kettle and returns it with flesh in it, but at last the woman refuses, and is persecuted by the fairy. i fail to see much analogy. a much closer one is in campbell, ii. p. , where fairies are got rid of by shouting "dunveilg is on fire." the familiar "lady-bird, lady-bird, fly away home, your house is on fire and your children at home," will occur to english minds. another version in kennedy's _legendary fictions_, p. , "black stairs on fire." _remarks_.--slievenamon is a famous fairy palace in tipperary according to dr. joyce, _l.c._ i. . it was the hill on which finn stood when he gave himself as the prize to the irish maiden who should run up it quickest. grainne won him with dire consequences, as all the world knows or ought to know (kennedy, _legend fict._, , "how fion selected a wife"). v. conal yellowclaw. _source_.--campbell, _pop. tales of west highlands_, no. v. pp. - , "conall cra bhuidhe." i have softened the third episode, which is somewhat too ghastly in the original. i have translated "cra bhuide" yellowclaw on the strength of campbell's etymology, _l.c._ p. . _parallels_.--campbell's vi. and vii. are two variants showing how widespread the story is in gaelic scotland. it occurs in ireland where it has been printed in the chapbook, _hibernian tales_, as the "black thief and the knight of the glen," the black thief being conall, and the knight corresponding to the king of lochlan (it is given in mr. lang's _red fairy book_). here it attracted the notice of thackeray, who gives a good abstract of it in his _irish sketch-book_, ch. xvi. he thinks it "worthy of the arabian nights, as wild and odd as an eastern tale." "that fantastical way of bearing testimony to the previous tale by producing an old woman who says the tale is not only true, but who was the very old woman who lived in the giant's castle is almost" (why "almost," mr. thackeray?) "a stroke of genius." the incident of the giant's breath occurs in the story of koisha kayn, macinnes' _tales_, i. , as well as the polyphemus one, _ibid._ . one-eyed giants are frequent in celtic folk-tales (_e.g._ in _the pursuit of diarmaid_ and in the _mabinogi_ of owen). _remarks._--thackeray's reference to the "arabian nights" is especially apt, as the tale of conall is a framework story like _the nights_, the three stories told by conall being framed, as it were, in a fourth which is nominally the real story. this method employed by the indian story-tellers and from them adopted by boccaccio and thence into all european literatures (chaucer, queen margaret, &c.), is generally thought to be peculiar to the east, and to be ultimately derived from the jatakas or birth stories of the buddha who tells his adventures in former incarnations. here we find it in celtdom, and it occurs also in "the story-teller at fault" in this collection, and the story of _koisha kayn_ in macinnes' _argyllshire tales_, a variant of which, collected but not published by campbell, has no less than nineteen tales enclosed in a framework. the question is whether the method was adopted independently in ireland, or was due to foreign influences. confining ourselves to "conal yellowclaw," it seems not unlikely that the whole story is an importation. for the second episode is clearly the story of polyphemus from the odyssey which was known in ireland perhaps as early as the tenth century (see prof. k. meyer's edition of _merugud uilix maic leirtis_, pref. p. xii). it also crept into the voyages of sindbad in the _arabian nights_. and as told in the highlands it bears comparison even with the homeric version. as mr. nutt remarks (_celt. mag._ xii.) the address of the giant to the buck is as effective as that of polyphemus to his ram. the narrator, james wilson, was a blind man who would naturally feel the pathos of the address; "it comes from the heart of the narrator;" says campbell (_l.c._, ), "it is the ornament which his mind hangs on the frame of the story." vi. hudden and dudden. _source._--from oral tradition, by the late d. w. logie, taken down by mr. alfred nutt. _parallels._--lover has a tale, "little fairly," obviously derived from this folk-tale; and there is another very similar, "darby darly." another version of our tale is given under the title "donald and his neighbours," in the chapbook _hibernian tales_, whence it was reprinted by thackeray in his _irish sketch-book_, c. xvi. this has the incident of the "accidental matricide," on which see prof. r. köhler on gonzenbach _sicil. mährchen_, ii. . no less than four tales of campbell are of this type (_pop. tales_, ii. - ). m. cosquin, in his "contes populaires de lorraine," the storehouse of "storiology," has elaborate excursuses in this class of tales attached to his nos. x. and xx. mr. clouston discusses it also in his _pop. tales_, ii. - . both these writers are inclined to trace the chief incidents to india. it is to be observed that one of the earliest popular drolls in europe, _unibos_, a latin poem of the eleventh, and perhaps the tenth, century, has the main outlines of the story, the fraudulent sale of worthless objects and the escape from the sack trick. the same story occurs in straparola, the european earliest collection of folk-tales in the sixteenth century. on the other hand, the gold sticking to the scales is familiar to us in _ali baba_. (_cf._ cosquin, _l.c._, i. - , ). _remarks_.--it is indeed curious to find, as m. cosquin points out, a cunning fellow tied in a sack getting out by crying, "i won't marry the princess," in countries so far apart as ireland, sicily (gonzenbach, no. ), afghanistan (thorburn, _bannu_, p. ), and jamaica (_folk-lore record_, iii. ). it is indeed impossible to think these are disconnected, and for drolls of this kind a good case has been made out for the borrowing hypotheses by m. cosquin and mr. clouston. who borrowed from whom is another and more difficult question which has to be judged on its merits in each individual case. this is a type of celtic folk-tales which are european in spread, have analogies with the east, and can only be said to be celtic by adoption and by colouring. they form a distinct section of the tales told by the celts, and must be represented in any characteristic selection. other examples are xi., xv., xx., and perhaps xxii. vii. shepherd of myddvai. _source_.--preface to the edition of "the physicians of myddvai"; their prescription-book, from the red book of hergest, published by the welsh ms. society in . the legend is not given in the red book, but from oral tradition by mr. w. rees, p. xxi. as this is the first of the welsh tales in this book it may be as well to give the reader such guidance as i can afford him on the intricacies of welsh pronunciation, especially with regard to the mysterious _w_'s and _y_'s of welsh orthography. for _w_ substitute double _o_, as in "_fool_," and for _y_, the short _u_ in b_u_t, and as near approach to cymric speech will be reached as is possible for the outlander. it maybe added that double _d_ equals _th_, and double _l_ is something like _fl_, as shakespeare knew in calling his welsh soldier fluellen (llewelyn). thus "meddygon myddvai" would be _anglicè_ "methugon muthvai." _parallels._--other versions of the legend of the van pool are given in _cambro-briton_, ii. ; w. sikes, _british goblins_, p. . mr. e. sidney hartland has discussed these and others in a set of papers contributed to the first volume of _the archaeological review_ (now incorporated into _folk-lore_), the substance of which is now given in his _science of fairy tales_, - . (see also the references given in _revue celtique_, iv., and ). mr. hartland gives there an ecumenical collection of parallels to the several incidents that go to make up our story--( ) the bride-capture of the swan-maiden, ( ) the recognition of the bride, ( ) the taboo against causeless blows, ( ) doomed to be broken, and ( ) disappearance of the swan-maiden, with ( ) her return as guardian spirit to her descendants. in each case mr. hartland gives what he considers to be the most primitive form of the incident. with reference to our present tale, he comes to the conclusion, if i understand him aright, that the lake-maiden was once regarded as a local divinity. the physicians of myddvai were historic personages, renowned for their medical skill for some six centuries, till the race died out with john jones, _fl._ . to explain their skill and uncanny knowledge of herbs, the folk traced them to a supernatural ancestress, who taught them their craft in a place still called pant-y-meddygon ("doctors' dingle"). their medical knowledge did not require any such remarkable origin, as mr. hartland has shown in a paper "on welsh folk-medicine," contributed to _y cymmrodor_, vol. xii. on the other hand, the swan-maiden type of story is widespread through the old world. mr. morris' "land east of the moon and west of the sun," in _the earthly paradise_, is taken from the norse version. parallels are accumulated by the grimms, ii. ; köhler on gonzenbach, ii. ; or blade, ; stokes' _indian fairy tales_, , ; and messrs. jones and koopf, _magyar folk-tales_, - . it remains to be proved that one of these versions did not travel to wales, and become there localised. we shall see other instances of such localisation or specialisation of general legends. viii. the sprightly tailor. _source._--_notes and queries_ for december , ; to which it was communicated by "cuthbert bede," the author of _verdant green_, who collected it in cantyre. _parallels_.--miss dempster gives the same story in her sutherland collection, no. vii. (referred to by campbell in his gaelic list, at end of vol. iv.); mrs. john faed, i am informed by a friend, knows the gaelic version, as told by her nurse in her youth. chambers' "strange visitor," _pop. rhymes of scotland_, , of which i gave an anglicised version in my _english fairy tales_, no. xxxii., is clearly a variant. _remarks_.--the macdonald of saddell castle was a very great man indeed. once, when dining with the lord-lieutenant, an apology was made to him for placing him so far away from the head of the table. "where the macdonald sits," was the proud response, "there is the head of the table." ix. deirdre. _source_.--_celtic magazine_, xiii. pp. , _seq_. i have abridged somewhat, made the sons of fergus all faithful instead of two traitors, and omitted an incident in the house of the wild men called here "strangers." the original gaelic was given in the _transactions of the inverness gaelic society_ for , p. , _seq._, by mr. carmichael. i have inserted deirdre's "lament" from the _book of leinster_. _parallels_.--this is one of the three most sorrowful tales of erin, (the other two, _children of lir_ and _children of tureen_, are given in dr. joyce's _old celtic romances_), and is a specimen of the old heroic sagas of elopement, a list of which is given in the _book of leinster_. the "outcast child" is a frequent episode in folk and hero-tales: an instance occurs in my _english fairy tales_, no. xxxv., and prof. köhler gives many others in _archiv. f. slav. philologie_, i. . mr. nutt adds tenth century celtic parallels in _folk-lore_, vol. ii. the wooing of hero by heroine is a characteristic celtic touch. see "connla" here, and other examples given by mr. nutt in his notes to macinnes' _tales_. the trees growing from the lovers' graves occurs in the english ballad of _lord lovel_ and has been studied in _mélusine_. _remarks_.--the "story of deirdre" is a remarkable instance of the tenacity of oral tradition among the celts. it has been preserved in no less than five versions (or six, including macpherson's "darthula") ranging from the twelfth to the nineteenth century. the earliest is in the twelfth century, _book of leinster_, to be dated about (edited in facsimile under the auspices of the royal irish academy, i. , _seq._). then comes a fifteenth century version, edited and translated by dr. stokes in windisch's _irische texte_ ii., ii. , _seq._, "death of the sons of uisnech." keating in his _history of ireland_ gave another version in the seventeenth century. the dublin gaelic society published an eighteenth century version in their _transactions_ for . and lastly we have the version before us, collected only a few years ago, yet agreeing in all essential details with the version of the _book of leinster_. such a record is unique in the history of oral tradition, outside ireland, where, however, it is quite a customary experience in the study of the finn-saga. it is now recognised that macpherson had, or could have had, ample material for his _rechauffé_ of the finn or "fingal" saga. his "darthula" is a similar cobbling of our present story. i leave to celtic specialists the task of settling the exact relations of these various texts. i content myself with pointing out the fact that in these latter days of a seemingly prosaic century in these british isles there has been collected from the lips of the folk a heroic story like this of "deirdre," full of romantic incidents, told with tender feeling and considerable literary skill. no other country in europe, except perhaps russia, could provide a parallel to this living on of romance among the common folk. surely it is a bounden duty of those who are in the position to put on record any such utterances of the folk-imagination of the celts before it is too late. x. munachar and manachar. _source_.--i have combined the irish version given by dr. hyde in his _leabhar sgeul._, and translated by him for mr. yeats' _irish folk and fairy tales_, and the scotch version given in gaelic and english by campbell, no. viii. _parallels_.--two english versions are given in my _eng. fairy tales_, no. iv., "the old woman and her pig," and xxxiv., "the cat and the mouse," where see notes for other variants in these isles. m. cosquin, in his notes to no. xxxiv., of his _contes de lorraine_, t. ii. pp. - , has drawn attention to an astonishing number of parallels scattered through all europe and the east (_cf._, too, crane, _ital. pop. tales_, notes, - ). one of the earliest allusions to the jingle is in _don quixote_, pt. , c. xvi.: "y asi como suele decirse _el gato al rato, et rato á la cuerda, la cuerda al palo_, daba el arriero á sancho, sancho á la moza, la moza á él, el ventero á la moza." as i have pointed out, it is used to this day by bengali women at the end of each folk-tale they recite (l. b. day, _folk-tales of bengal_, pref.). _remarks_.--two ingenious suggestions have been made as to the origin of this curious jingle, both connecting it with religious ceremonies: ( ) something very similar occurs in chaldaic at the end of the jewish _hagada_, or domestic ritual for the passover night. it has, however, been shown that this does not occur in early mss. or editions, and was only added at the end to amuse the children after the service, and was therefore only a translation or adaptation of a current german form of the jingle; ( ) m. basset, in the _revue des traditions populaires_, , t. v. p. , has suggested that it is a survival of the old greek custom at the sacrifice of the bouphonia for the priest to contend that _he_ had not slain the sacred beast, the axe declares that the handle did it, the handle transfers the guilt further, and so on. this is ingenious, but fails to give any reasonable account of the diffusion of the jingle in countries which have had no historic connection with classical greece. xi. gold tree and silver tree. _source_.--_celtic magazine_, xiii. - , gaelic and english from mr. kenneth macleod. _parallels_.--mr. macleod heard another version in which "gold tree" (anonymous in this variant) is bewitched to kill her father's horse, dog, and cock. abroad it is the grimm's _schneewittchen_ (no. ), for the continental variants of which see köhler on gonzenbach, _sicil. mährchen_, nos. - , grimm's notes on , and crane, _ital. pop. tales_, . no other version is known in the british isles. _remarks_.--it is unlikely, i should say impossible, that this tale, with the incident of the dormant heroine, should have arisen independently in the highlands; it is most likely an importation from abroad. yet in it occurs a most "primitive" incident, the bigamous household of the hero; this is glossed over in mr. macleod's other variant. on the "survival" method of investigation this would possibly be used as evidence for polygamy in the highlands. yet if, as is probable, the story came from abroad, this trait may have come with it, and only implies polygamy in the original home of the tale. xii. king o'toole and his goose. _source_.--s. lover's _stories and legends of the irish peasantry_. _remarks_.--this is really a moral apologue on the benefits of keeping your word. yet it is told with such humour and vigour, that the moral glides insensibly into the heart. xiii. the wooing of olwen. _source_.--the _mabinogi_ of kulhwych and olwen from the translation of lady guest, abridged. _parallels_.--prof. rhys, _hibbert lectures_, p. , considers that our tale is paralleled by cuchulain's "wooing of emer," a translation of which by prof. k. meyer appeared in the _archaeological review_, vol. i. i fail to see much analogy. on the other hand in his _arthurian legend_, p. , he rightly compares the tasks set by yspythadon to those set to jason. they are indeed of the familiar type of the bride wager (on which see grimm-hunt, i. ). the incident of the three animals, old, older, and oldest, has a remarkable resemblance to the _tettira jataka_ (ed. fausböll, no. , transl. rhys davids, i. p. _seq._) in which the partridge, monkey, and elephant dispute as to their relative age, and the partridge turns out to have voided the seed of the banyan-tree under which they were sheltered, whereas the elephant only knew it when a mere bush, and the monkey had nibbled the topmost shoots. this apologue got to england at the end of the twelfth century as the sixty-ninth fable, "wolf, fox, and dove," of a rhymed prose collection of "fox fables" (_mishle shu'alim_), of an oxford jew, berachyah nakdan, known in the records as "benedict le puncteur" (see my _fables of aesop_, i. p. ). similar incidents occur in "jack and his snuff-box" in my _english fairy tales_, and in dr. hyde's "well of d'yerree-in-dowan." the skilled companions of kulhwych are common in european folk-tales (_cf._ cosquin, i. - ), and especially among the celts (see mr. nutt's note in macinnes' _tales_, - ), among whom they occur very early, but not so early as lynceus and the other skilled comrades of the argonauts. _remarks_.--the hunting of the boar trwyth can be traced back in welsh tradition at least as early as the ninth century. for it is referred to in the following passage of nennius' _historia britonum_ ed. stevenson, p: , "est aliud miraculum in regione quae dicitur buelt [builth, co. brecon] est ibi cumulus lapidum et unus lapis super-positus super congestum cum vestigia canis in eo. quando venatus est porcum troynt [_var. lec._ troit] impressit cabal, qui erat canis arthuri militis, vestigium in lapide et arthur postea congregavit congestum lapidum sub lapide in quo erat vestigium canis sui et vocatur carn cabal." curiously enough there is still a mountain called carn cabal in the district of builth, south of rhayader gwy in breconshire. still more curiously a friend of lady guest's found on this a cairn with a stone two feet long by one foot wide in which there was an indentation in. x in. x in. which could easily have been mistaken for a paw-print of a dog, as maybe seen from the engraving given of it (mabinogion, ed. , p. ). the stone and the legend are thus at least one thousand years old. "there stands the stone to tell if i lie." according to prof. rhys (_hibbert lect._ - ) the whole story is a mythological one, kulhwych's mother being the dawn, the clover blossoms that grow under olwen's feet being comparable to the roses that sprung up where aphrodite had trod, and yspyddadon being the incarnation of the sacred hawthorn. mabon, again (_i.e._ pp. , - ), is the apollo maponus discovered in latin inscriptions at ainstable in cumberland and elsewhere (hübner, _corp. insc. lat. brit._ nos. , , ). granting all this, there is nothing to show any mythological significance in the tale, though there may have been in the names of the _dramatis personae_. i observe from the proceedings of the recent eisteddfod that the bardic name of mr. w. abraham, m.p., is 'mabon.' it scarcely follows that mr. abraham is in receipt of divine honours nowadays. xiv. jack and his comrades. _source_.--kennedy's _legendary fictions of the irish celts_. _parallels_.--this is the fullest and most dramatic version i know of the grimm's "town musicians of bremen" (no. ). i have given an english (american) version in my _english fairy tales_, no. , in the notes to which would be found references to other versions known in the british isles (_e.g._, campbell, no. ) and abroad. _cf._ remarks on no. vi. xv. shee an gannon and gruagach gaire. _source._--curtin, _myths and folk-lore of ireland_, p. _seq._ i have shortened the earlier part of the tale, and introduced into the latter a few touches from campbell's story of "fionn's enchantment," in _revue celtique_, t. i., _seq._ _parallels_.--the early part is similar to the beginning of "the sea-maiden" (no. xvii., which see). the latter part is practically the same as the story of "fionn's enchantment," just referred to. it also occurs in macinnes' _tales_, no. iii., "the king of albainn" (see mr. nutt's notes, ). the head-crowned spikes are celtic, _cf._ mr. nutt's notes (macinnes' _tales_, ). _remarks_.--here again we meet the question whether the folk-tale precedes the hero-tale about finn or was derived from it, and again the probability seems that our story has the priority as a folk-tale, and was afterwards applied to the national hero, finn. this is confirmed by the fact that a thirteenth century french romance, _conte du graal_, has much the same incidents, and was probably derived from a similar folk-tale of the celts. indeed, mr. nutt is inclined to think that the original form of our story (which contains a mysterious healing vessel) is the germ out of which the legend of the holy grail was evolved (see his _studies in the holy grail_, p. _seq._). xvi. the story-teller at fault. _source_.--griffin's _tales from a jury-room_, combined with campbell, no. xvii. _c_, "the slim swarthy champion." _parallels_.--campbell gives another variant, _l.c._ i. . dr. hyde has an irish version of campbell's tale written down in , from which he gives the incident of the air-ladder (which i have had to euphemise in my version) in his _beside the fireside_, p. , and other passages in his preface. the most remarkable parallel to this incident, however, is afforded by the feats of indian jugglers reported briefly by marco polo, and illustrated with his usual wealth of learning by the late sir henry yule, in his edition, vol. i. p. _seq._ the accompanying illustration (reduced from yule) will tell its own tale: it is taken from the dutch account of the travels of an english sailor, e. melton, _zeldzaame reizen_, , p. . it tells the tale in five acts, all included in one sketch. another instance quoted by yule is still more parallel, so to speak. the twenty-third trick performed by some conjurors before the emperor jahangueir (_memoirs_, p. ) is thus described: "they produced a chain of cubits in length, and in my presence threw one end of it towards the sky, where it remained as if fastened to something in the air. a dog was then brought forward, and being placed at the lower end of the chain, immediately ran up, and, reaching the other end, immediately disappeared in the air. in the same manner a hog, a panther, a lion, and a tiger were successively sent up the chain." it has been suggested that the conjurors hypnotise the spectators, and make them believe they see these things. this is practically the suggestion of a wise mohammedan, who is quoted by yule as saying, "_wallah!_ 'tis my opinion there has been neither going up nor coming down; 'tis all hocus-pocus," hocus-pocus being presumably the mohammedan term for hypnotism. _remarks_.--dr. hyde (_l.c._ pref. xxix.) thinks our tale cannot be older than , because of a reference to one o'connor sligo which occurs in all its variants; it is, however, omitted in our somewhat abridged version. mr nutt (_ap._ campbell, _the fians_, introd. xix.) thinks that this does not prevent a still earlier version having existed. i should have thought that the existence of so distinctly eastern a trick in the tale, and the fact that it is a framework story (another eastern characteristic), would imply that it is a rather late importation, with local allusions superadded (_cf._ notes on "conal yellowclaw," no v.) the passages in verse from pp , , and the description of the beggarman, pp. , , are instances of a curious characteristic of gaelic folk-tales called "runs." collections of conventional epithets are used over and over again to describe the same incident, the beaching of a boat, sea-faring, travelling and the like, and are inserted in different tales. these "runs" are often similar in both the irish and the scotch form of the same tale or of the same incident. the volumes of _waifs and strays_ contain numerous examples of these "runs," which have been indexed in each volume. these "runs" are another confirmation of my view that the original form of the folk-tale was that of the _cante-fable_ (see note on "connla" and on "childe rowland" in _english fairy tales_). xvii. sea-maiden. _source_.--campbell, _pop. tales_, no. . i have omitted the births of the animal comrades and transposed the carlin to the middle of the tale. mr. batten has considerately idealised the sea-maiden in his frontispiece. when she restores the husband to the wife in one of the variants, she brings him out of her mouth! "so the sea-maiden put up his head (_who do you mean? out of her mouth to be sure. she had swallowed him_)." _parallels_.--the early part of the story occurs in no. xv., "shee an gannon," and the last part in no. xix., "fair, brown, and trembling" (both from curtin), campbell's no. . "the young king" is much like it; also macinnes' no. iv., "herding of cruachan" and no. viii., "lod the farmer's son." the third of mr. britten's irish folk-tales in the _folk-lore journal_ is a sea-maiden story. the story is obviously a favourite one among the celts. yet its main incidents occur with frequency in continental folk-tales. prof. köhler has collected a number in his notes on campbell's tales in _orient und occident_, bnd. ii. - . the trial of the sword occurs in the saga of sigurd, yet it is also frequent in celtic saga and folk-tales (see mr. nutt's note, macinnes' _tales_, , and add. curtin, ). the hideous carlin and her three giant sons is also a common form in celtic. the external soul of the sea-maiden carried about in an egg, in a trout, in a hoodie, in a hind, is a remarkable instance of a peculiarly savage conception which has been studied by major temple, _wide-awake stories_, - ; by mr. e. clodd, in the "philosophy of punchkin," in _folk-lore journal_, vol. ii., and by mr. frazer in his _golden bough_, vol. ii. _remarks_.--as both prof. rhys (_hibbert lect._, ) and mr. nutt (macinnes' _tales_, ) have pointed out, practically the same story (that of perseus and andromeda) is told of the ultonian hero, cuchulain, in the _wooing of emer_, a tale which occurs in the book of leinster, a ms. of the twelfth century, and was probably copied from one of the eighth. unfortunately it is not complete, and the sea-maiden incident is only to be found in a british museum ms. of about . in this cuchulain finds that the daughter of ruad is to be given as a tribute to the fomori, who, according to prof. rhys, _folk-lore_, ii. , have something of the night_mare_ about their etymology. cuchulain fights _three_ of them successively, has his wounds bound up by a strip of the maiden's garment, and then departs. thereafter many boasted of having slain the fomori, but the maiden believed them not till at last by a stratagem she recognises cuchulain. i may add to this that in mr. curtin's _myths_, , the threefold trial of the sword is told of cuchulain. this would seem to trace our story back to the seventh or eighth century and certainly to the thirteenth. if so, it is likely enough that it spread from ireland through europe with the irish missions (for the wide extent of which see map in mrs. bryant's _celtic ireland_). the very letters that have spread through all europe except russia, are to be traced to the script of these irish monks: why not certain folk-tales? there is a further question whether the story was originally told of cuchulain as a hero-tale and then became departicularised as a folk-tale, or was the process _vice versa_. certainly in the form in which it appears in the _tochmarc emer_ it is not complete, so that here, as elsewhere, we seem to have an instance of a folk-tale applied to a well-known heroic name, and becoming a hero-tale or saga. xviii. legend of knockmany. _source_.--w. carleton, _traits and stories of the irish peasantry_. _parallels_.--kennedy's "fion maccuil and the scotch giant," _legend. fict._, - . _remarks_.--though the venerable names of finn and cucullin (cuchulain) are attached to the heroes of this story, this is probably only to give an extrinsic interest to it. the two heroes could not have come together in any early form of their sagas, since cuchulain's reputed date is of the first, finn's of the third century a.d. (_cf._ however, macdougall's _tales_, notes, ). besides, the grotesque form of the legend is enough to remove it from the region of the hero-tale. on the other hand, there is a distinct reference to finn's wisdom-tooth, which presaged the future to him (on this see _revue celtique_, v. , joyce, _old celt. rom._, - , and macdougall, _l.c._ ). cucullin's power-finger is another instance of the life-index or external soul, on which see remarks on sea-maiden. mr. nutt informs me that parodies of the irish sagas occur as early as the sixteenth century, and the present tale may be regarded as a specimen. xix. fair, brown, and trembling. _source_.--curtin, _myths, &c., of ireland, seq._ _parallels_.--the latter half resembles the second part of the sea-maiden (no. xvii.), which see. the earlier portion is a cinderella tale (on which see the late mr. ralston's article in _nineteenth century_, nov. , and mr. lang's treatment in his perrault). miss roalfe cox is about to publish for the folk-lore society a whole volume of variants of the cinderella group of stories, which are remarkably well represented in these isles, nearly a dozen different versions being known in england, ireland, and scotland. xx. jack and his master. _source_.--kennedy, _fireside stories of ireland_, - , "shan an omadhan and his master." _parallels_.--it occurs also in campbell, no. xlv., "mac a rusgaich." it is a european droll, the wide occurrence of which--"the loss of temper bet" i should call it--is bibliographised by m. cosquin, _l.c._ ii. (_cf._ notes on no. vi.). xxi. beth gellert. _source_.--i have paraphrased the well-known poem of hon. w. r. spencer, "beth gêlert, or the grave of the greyhound," first printed privately as a broadsheet in when it was composed ("august , , dolymalynllyn" is the colophon). it was published in spencer's _poems_, , pp. - . these dates, it will be seen, are of importance. spencer states in a note: "the story of this ballad is traditionary in a village at the foot of snowdon where llewellyn the great had a house. the greyhound named gêlert was given him by his father-in-law, king john, in the year , and the place to this day is called beth-gêlert, or the grave of gêlert." as a matter of fact, no trace of the tradition in connection with bedd gellert can be found before spencer's time. it is not mentioned in leland's _itinerary_, ed. hearne, v. p. ("beth kellarth"), in pennant's _tour_ ( ), ii. , or in bingley's _tour in wales_ ( ). borrow in his _wild wales_, p. , gives the legend, but does not profess to derive it from local tradition. _parallels_.--the only parallel in celtdom is that noticed by croker in his third volume, the legend of partholan who killed his wife's greyhound from jealousy: this is found sculptured in stone at ap brune, co. limerick. as is well known, and has been elaborately discussed by mr. baring-gould (_curious myths of the middle ages_, p. _seq._), and mr. w. a. clouston (_popular tales and fictions_, ii. , _seq._), the story of the man who rashly slew the dog (ichneumon, weasel, &c.) that had saved his babe from death, is one of those which have spread from east to west. it is indeed, as mr. clouston points out, still current in india, the land of its birth. there is little doubt that it is originally buddhistic: the late prof. s. beal gave the earliest known version from the chinese translation of the _vinaya pitaka_ in the _academy_ of nov. , . the conception of an animal sacrificing itself for the sake of others is peculiarly buddhistic; the "hare in the moon" is an apotheosis of such a piece of self-sacrifice on the part of buddha (_sasa jataka_). there are two forms that have reached the west, the first being that of an animal saving men at the cost of its own life. i pointed out an early instance of this, quoted by a rabbi of the second century, in my _fables of aesop_, i. . this concludes with a strangely close parallel to gellert; "they raised a cairn over his grave, and the place is still called the dog's grave." the _culex_ attributed to virgil seems to be another variant of this. the second form of the legend is always told as a moral apologue against precipitate action, and originally occurred in _the fables of bidpai_ in its hundred and one forms, all founded on buddhistic originals (_cf._ benfey, _pantschatantra_, einleitung, § ). [footnote: it occurs in the same chapter as the story of la perrette, which has been traced, after benfey, by prof. m. müller in his "migration of fables" (_sel. essays_, i. - ): exactly the same history applies to gellert.] thence, according to benfey, it was inserted in the _book of sindibad_, another collection of oriental apologues framed on what may be called the mrs. potiphar formula. this came to europe with the crusades, and is known in its western versions as the _seven sages of rome_. the gellert story occurs in all the oriental and occidental versions; _e.g._, it is the first master's story in wynkyn de worde's (ed. g. l. gomme, for the villon society.) from the _seven sages_ it was taken into the particular branch of the _gesta romanorum_ current in england and known as the english _gesta_, where it occurs as c. xxxii., "story of folliculus." we have thus traced it to england whence it passed to wales, where i have discovered it as the second apologue of "the fables of cattwg the wise," in the iolo ms. published by the welsh ms. society, p. , "the man who killed his greyhound." (these fables, mr. nutt informs me, are a pseudonymous production probably of the sixteenth century.) this concludes the literary route of the legend of gellert from india to wales: buddhistic _vinaya pitaka--fables of bidpai_;--oriental _sindibad_;--occidental _seven sages of rome_;--"english" (latin), _gesta romanorum_;--welsh, _fables of cattwg_. _remarks_.--we have still to connect the legend with llewelyn and with bedd gelert. but first it may be desirable to point out why it is necessary to assume that the legend is a legend and not a fact. the saving of an infant's life by a dog, and the mistaken slaughter of the dog, are not such an improbable combination as to make it impossible that the same event occurred in many places. but what is impossible, in my opinion, is that such an event should have independently been used in different places as the typical instance of, and warning against, rash action. that the gellert legend, before it was localised, was used as a moral apologue in wales is shown by the fact that it occurs among the fables of cattwg, which are all of that character. it was also utilised as a proverb: "_yr wy'n edivaru cymmaint a'r gwr a laddodd ei vilgi_" ("i repent as much as the man who slew his greyhound"). the fable indeed, from this point of view, seems greatly to have attracted the welsh mind, perhaps as of especial value to a proverbially impetuous temperament. croker (_fairy legends of ireland_, vol. iii. p. ) points out several places where the legend seems to have been localised in place-names--two places, called "gwal y vilast" ("greyhound's couch"), in carmarthen and glamorganshire; "llech y asp" ("dog's stone"), in cardigan, and another place named in welsh "spring of the greyhound's stone." mr. baring-gould mentions that the legend is told of an ordinary tombstone, with a knight and a greyhound, in abergavenny church; while the fable of cattwg is told of a man in abergarwan. so widespread and well known was the legend that it was in richard iii's time adopted as the national crest. in the warwick roll, at the herald's office, after giving separate crests for england, scotland, and ireland, that for wales is given as figured in the margin, and blazoned "on a coronet in a cradle or, a greyhound argent for walys" (see j. r. planché, _twelve designs for the costume of shakespeare's richard iii._, , frontispiece). if this roll is authentic, the popularity of the legend is thrown back into the fifteenth century. it still remains to explain how and when this general legend of rash action was localised and specialised at bedd gelert: i believe i have discovered this. there certainly was a local legend about a dog named gelert at that place; e. jones, in the first edition of his _musical relicks of the welsh bards_, , p. , gives the following _englyn_ or epigram: claddwyd cylart celfydd (ymlyniad) ymlaneau efionydd parod giuio i'w gynydd parai'r dydd yr heliai hydd; which he englishes thus: the remains of famed cylart, so faithful and good, the bounds of the cantred conceal; whenever the doe or the stag he pursued his master was sure of a meal. no reference was made in the first edition to the gellert legend, but in the second edition of , p. , a note was added telling the legend, "there is a general tradition in north wales that a wolf had entered the house of prince llewellyn. soon after the prince returned home, and, going into the nursery, he met his dog _kill-hart_, all bloody and wagging his tail at him; prince llewellyn, on entering the room found the cradle where his child lay overturned, and the floor flowing with blood; imagining that the greyhound had killed the child, he immediately drew his sword and stabbed it; then, turning up the cradle, found under it the child alive, and the wolf dead. this so grieved the prince, that he erected a tomb over his faithful dog's grave; where afterwards the parish church was built and goes by that name--_bedd cilhart_, or the grave of kill-hart, in _carnarvonshire_. from this incident is elicited a very common welsh proverb [that given above which occurs also in 'the fables of cattwg;' it will be observed that it is quite indefinite.]" "prince llewellyn ab jorwerth married joan, [natural] daughter of king john, by _agatha_, daughter of robert ferrers, earl of derby; and the dog was a present to the prince from his father-in-law about the year ." it was clearly from this note that the hon. mr. spencer got his account; oral tradition does not indulge in dates _anno domini_. the application of the general legend of "the man who slew his greyhound" to the dog cylart, was due to the learning of e. jones, author of the _musical relicks_. i am convinced of this, for by a lucky chance i am enabled to give the real legend about cylart, which is thus given in carlisle's _topographical dictionary of wales_, s.v., "bedd celert," published in , the date of publication of mr. spencer's _poems_. "its name, according to tradition, implies _the grave of celert_, a greyhound which belonged to llywelyn, the last prince of wales: and a large rock is still pointed out as the monument of this celebrated dog, being on the spot where it was found dead, together with the stag which it had pursued from carnarvon," which is thirteen miles distant. the cairn was thus a monument of a "record" run of a greyhound: the _englyn_ quoted by jones is suitable enough for this, while quite inadequate to record the later legendary exploits of gêlert. jones found an _englyn_ devoted to _an_ exploit of a dog named cylart, and chose to interpret it in his second edition, , as _the_ exploit of a greyhound with which all the world (in wales) were acquainted. mr. spencer took the legend from jones (the reference to the date proves that), enshrined it in his somewhat _banal_ verses, which were lucky enough to be copied into several reading-books, and thus became known to all english-speaking folk. it remains only to explain why jones connected the legend with llewelyn. llewelyn had local connection with bedd gellert, which was the seat of an augustinian abbey, one of the oldest in wales. an inspeximus of edward i. given in dugdale, _monast. angl._, ed. pr. ii. a, quotes as the earliest charter of the abbey "cartam lewelin, magni." the name of the abbey was "beth kellarth"; the name is thus given by leland, _l.c._, and as late as an engraving at the british museum is entitled "beth kelert," while carlisle gives it as "beth celert." the place was thus named after the abbey, not after the cairn or rock. this is confirmed by the fact of which prof. rhys had informed me, that the collocation of letters _rt_ is un-welsh. under these circumstances it is not impossible, i think, that the earlier legend of the marvellous run of "cylart" from carnarvon was due to the etymologising fancy of some english-speaking welshman who interpreted the name as killhart, so that the simpler legend would be only a folk-etymology. but whether kellarth, kelert, cylart, gêlert or gellert ever existed and ran a hart from carnarvon to bedd gellert or no, there can be little doubt after the preceding that he was not the original hero of the fable of "the man that slew his greyhound," which came to wales from buddhistic india through channels which are perfectly traceable. it was edward jones who first raised him to that proud position, and william spencer who securely installed him there, probably for all time. the legend is now firmly established at bedd gellert. there is said to be an ancient air, "bedd gelert," "as sung by the ancient britons"; it is given in a pamphlet published at carnarvon in the "fifties," entitled _gellert's grave; or, llewellyn's rashness: a ballad, by the hon. w. r. spencer, to which is added that ancient welsh air, "bedd gelert," as sung by the ancient britons_. the air is from r. roberts' "collection of welsh airs," but what connection it has with the legend i have been unable to ascertain. this is probably another case of adapting one tradition to another. it is almost impossible to distinguish palaeozoic and cainozoic strata in oral tradition. according to murray's _guide to n. wales_, p. , the only authority for the cairn now shown is that of the landlord of the goat inn, "who felt compelled by the cravings of tourists to invent a grave." some old men at bedd gellert, prof. rhys informs me, are ready to testify that they saw the cairn laid. they might almost have been present at the birth of the legend, which, if my affiliation of it is correct, is not yet quite years old. xxii. story of ivan. _source_.--lluyd, _archaeologia britannia_, , the first comparative celtic grammar and the finest piece of work in comparative philology hitherto done in england, contains this tale as a specimen of cornish then still spoken in cornwall. i have used the english version contained in _blackwood's magazine_ as long ago as may . i have taken the third counsel from the irish version, as the original is not suited _virginibus puerisque_, though harmless enough in itself. _parallels_.--lover has a tale, _the three advices_. it occurs also in modern cornwall _ap._ hunt, _drolls of west of england_, , "the tinner of chyamor." borrow, _wild wales_, , has a reference which seems to imply that the story had crystallised into a welsh proverb. curiously enough, it forms the chief episode of the so-called "irish odyssey" ("_merugud uilix maiec leirtis_"--"wandering of ulysses m'laertes"). it was derived, in all probability, from the _gesta romanorum_, c. , where two of the three pieces of advice are "avoid a byeway," "beware of a house where the housewife is younger than her husband." it is likely enough that this chapter, like others of the _gesta_, came from the east, for it is found in some versions of "the forty viziers," and in the _turkish tales_ (see oesterley's parallels and _gesta_, ed. swan and hooper, note ). xxiii. andrew coffey. _source_.--from the late d. w. logie, written down by mr. alfred nutt. _parallels_.--dr. hyde's "teig o'kane and the corpse," and kennedy's "cauth morrisy," _legend. fict._, , are practically the same. _remarks_.--no collection of celtic folk-tales would be representative that did not contain some specimen of the gruesome. the most effective ghoul story in existence is lover's "brown man." xxiv. battle of birds. _source_.--campbell (_pop. tales, w. highlands_, no. ii.), with touches from the seventh variant and others, including the casket and key finish, from curtin's "son of the king of erin" (_myths, &c., seq._). i have also added a specimen of the humorous end pieces added by gaelic story-tellers; on these tags see an interesting note in macdougall's _tales_, note on p. . i have found some difficulty in dealing with campbell's excessive use of the second person singular, "if thou thouest him some two or three times, 'tis well," but beyond that it is wearisome. practically, i have reserved _thou_ for the speech of giants, who may be supposed to be somewhat old-fashioned. i fear, however, i have not been quite consistent, though the _you's_ addressed to the apple-pips are grammatically correct as applied to the pair of lovers. _parallels_.--besides the eight versions given or abstracted by campbell and mr. curtin's, there is carleton's "three tasks," dr. hyde's "son of branduf" (ms.); there is the first tale of macinnes (where see mr. nutt's elaborate notes, - ), two in the _celtic magazine_, vol. xii., "grey norris from warland" (_folk-lore journ._ i. ), and mr. lang's morayshire tale, "nicht nought nothing" (see _eng. fairy tales_, no. vii.), no less than sixteen variants found among the celts. it must have occurred early among them. mr. nutt found the feather-thatch incident in the _agallamh na senoraib_ ("discourse of elders"), which is at least as old as the fifteenth century. yet the story is to be found throughout the indo-european world, as is shown by prof. köhler's elaborate list of parallels attached to mr. lang's variant in _revue celtique_, iii. ; and mr. lang, in his _custom and myth_ ("a far travelled tale"), has given a number of parallels from savage sources. and strangest of all, the story is practically the same as the classical myth of jason and medea. _remarks_.--mr. nutt, in his discussion of the tale (macinnes, _tales_ ), makes the interesting suggestion that the obstacles to pursuit, the forest, the mountain, and the river, exactly represent the boundary of the old teutonic hades, so that the story was originally one of the descent to hell. altogether it seems likely that it is one of the oldest folk-tales in existence, and belonged to the story-store of the original aryans, whoever they were, was passed by them with their language on to the hellenes and perhaps to the indians, was developed in its modern form in scandinavia (where its best representative "the master maid" of asbjörnsen is still found), was passed by them to the celts and possibly was transmitted by these latter to other parts of europe, perhaps by early irish monks (see notes on "sea-maiden"). the spread in the buddhistic world, and thence to the south seas and madagascar, would be secondary from india. i hope to have another occasion for dealing with this most interesting of all folk-tales in the detail it deserves. xxv. brewery of eggshells. _source_.--from the _cambrian quarterly magazine_, , vol. ii. p. ; it is stated to be literally translated from the welsh. _parallels_.--another variant from glamorganshire is given in y cymmrodor, vi. . croker has the story under the title i have given the welsh one in his _fairy legends_, . mr. hartland, in his _science of fairy tales_, - , gives the european parallels. xxvi. lad with the goat skin. _source_.--kennedy, _legendary fictions_, pp. - . the adventures of "gilla na chreck an gour'." _parallels_.--"the lad with the skin coverings" is a popular celtic figure, _cf._ macdougall's third tale, macinnes' second, and a reference in campbell, iii. . according to mr. nutt (_holy grail_, ), he is the original of parzival. but the adventures in these tales are not the "cure by laughing" incident which forms the centre of our tale, and is indo-european in extent (_cf._ references in _english fairy tales_, notes to no. xxvii.). "the smith who made hell too hot for him is sisyphus," says mr. lang (introd. to grimm, p. xiii.); in ireland he is billy dawson (carleton, _three wishes_). in the finn-saga, conan harries hell, as readers of _waverley_ may remember "'claw for claw, and devil take the shortest nails,' as conan said to the devil" (_cf._ campbell, _the fians_, , and notes, ). red-haired men in ireland and elsewhere are always rogues (see mr. nutt's references, macinnes' _tales_, ; to which add the case in "lough neagh," yeats, _irish folk-tales_, p. ). celtic folklore welsh and manx by john rhys, m.a., d.litt. hon. ll.d. of the university of edinburgh professor of celtic principal of jesus college, oxford volume i oxford at the clarendon press mdcccci to all those who have in any way contributed to the production of this work it is respectfully dedicated in token of his gratitude by the author our modern idioms, with all their straining after the abstract, are but primitive man's mental tools adapted to the requirements of civilized life, and they often retain traces of the form and shape which the neolithic worker's chipping and polishing gave them. preface towards the close of the seventies i began to collect welsh folklore. i did so partly because others had set the example elsewhere, and partly in order to see whether wales could boast of any story-tellers of the kind that delight the readers of campbell's popular tales of the west highlands. i soon found what i was not wholly unprepared for, that as a rule i could not get a single story of any length from the mouths of any of my fellow countrymen, but a considerable number of bits of stories. in some instances these were so scrappy that it took me years to discover how to fit them into their proper context; but, speaking generally, i may say, that, as the materials, such as they were, accumulated, my initial difficulties disappeared. i was, however, always a little afraid of refreshing my memory with the legends of other lands lest i should read into those of my own, ideas possibly foreign to them. while one is busy collecting, it is safest probably not to be too much engaged in comparison: when the work of collecting is done that of comparing may begin. but after all i have not attempted to proceed very far in that direction, only just far enough to find elucidation here and there for the meaning of items of folklore brought under my notice. to have gone further would have involved me in excursions hopelessly beyond the limits of my undertaking, for comparative folklore has lately assumed such dimensions, that it seems best to leave it to those who make it their special study. it is a cause of genuine regret to me that i did not commence my inquiries earlier, when i had more opportunities of pursuing them, especially when i was a village schoolmaster in anglesey and could have done the folklore of that island thoroughly; but my education, such as it was, had been of a nature to discourage all interest in anything that savoured of heathen lore and superstition. nor is that all, for the schoolmasters of my early days took very little trouble to teach their pupils to keep their eyes open or take notice of what they heard around them; so i grew up without having acquired the habit of observing anything, except the sabbath. it is to be hoped that the younger generation of schoolmasters trained under more auspicious circumstances, when the baleful influence of robert lowe has given way to a more enlightened system of public instruction, will do better, and succeed in fostering in their pupils habits of observation. at all events there is plenty of work still left to be done by careful observers and skilful inquirers, as will be seen from the geographical list showing approximately the provenance of the more important contributions to the kymric folklore in this collection: the counties will be found to figure very unequally. thus the anglicizing districts have helped me very little, while the more welsh county of carnarvon easily takes the lead; but i am inclined to regard the anomalous features of that list as in a great measure due to accident. in other words, some neighbourhoods have been luckier than others in having produced or attracted men who paid attention to local folklore; and if other counties were to be worked equally with carnarvonshire, some of them would probably be found not much less rich in their yield. the anglicizing counties in particular are apt to be disregarded both from the welsh and the english points of view, in folklore just as in some other things; and in this connexion i cannot help mentioning the premature death of the rev. elias owen as a loss which welsh folklorists will not soon cease to regret. my information has been obtained partly viva voce, partly by letter. in the case of the stories written down for me in welsh, i may mention that in some instances the language is far from good; but it has not been thought expedient to alter it in any way, beyond introducing some consistency into the spelling. in the case of the longest specimen of the written stories, mr. j. c. hughes' curse of pantannas, it is worthy of notice in passing, that the rendering of it into english was followed by a version in blank verse by sir lewis morris, who published it in his songs of britain. with regard to the work generally, my original intention was to publish the materials, obtained in the way described, with such stories already in print as might be deemed necessary by way of setting for them; and to let any theories or deductions in which i might be disposed to indulge follow later. in this way the first six chapters and portions of some of the others appeared from time to time in the publications of the honourable society of cymmrodorion and in those of the folk-lore society. this would have allowed me to divide the present work into the two well marked sections of materials and deductions. but, when the earlier part came to be edited, i found that i had a good deal of fresh material at my disposal, so that the chapters in question had in some instances to be considerably lengthened and in some others modified in other ways. then as to the deductive half of the work, it may be mentioned that certain portions of the folklore, though ever apt to repeat themselves, were found when closely scrutinized to show serious lacunæ, which had to be filled in the course of the reasoning suggested by the materials in hand. thus the idea of the whole consisting of two distinctly defined sections had to be given up or else allowed to wait till i should find time to recast it. but i could no more look forward to any such time than to the eventual possibility of escaping minor inconsistencies by quietly stepping through the looking-glass and beginning my work with the index instead of resting content to make it in the old-fashioned way at the end. there was, however, a third course, which is only mentioned to be rejected, and that was to abstain from all further publication; but what reader of books has ever known any of his authors to adopt that! to crown these indiscretions i have to confess that even when most of what i may call the raw material had been brought together, i had no clear idea what i was going to do with it; but i had a hazy notion, that, as in the case of an inveterate talker whose stream of words is only made the more boisterous by obstruction, once i sat down to write i should find reasons and arguments flowing in. it may seem as though i had been secretly conjuring with vergil's words viresque adquirit eundo. nothing so deliberate: the world in which i live swarms with busybodies dying to organize everybody and everything, and my instinctive opposition to all that order of tyranny makes me inclined to cherish a somewhat wild sort of free will. still the cursory reader would be wrong to take for granted that there is no method in my madness: should he take the trouble to look for it, he would find that it has a certain unity of purpose, which has been worked out in the later chapters; but to spare him that trouble i venture to become my own expositor and to append the following summary:-- the materials crowded into the earlier chapters mark out the stories connected with the fairies, whether of the lakes or of the dry land, as the richest lode to be exploited in the mine of celtic folklore. that work is attempted in the later chapters; and the analysis of what may briefly be described as the fairy lore given in the earlier ones carries with it the means of forcing the conviction, that the complex group of ideas identified with the little people is of more origins than one; in other words, that it is drawn partly from history and fact, and partly from the world of imagination and myth. the latter element proves on examination to be inseparably connected with certain ancient beliefs in divinities and demons associated, for instance, with lakes, rivers, and floods. accordingly, this aspect of fairy lore has been dealt with in chapters vi and vii: the former is devoted largely to the materials themselves, while the latter brings the argument to a conclusion as to the intimate connexion of the fairies with the water-world. then comes the turn of the other kind of origin to be discussed, namely, that which postulates the historical existence of the fairies as a real race on which have been lavishly superinduced various impossible attributes. this opens up a considerable vista into the early ethnology of these islands, and it involves a variety of questions bearing on the fortunes here of other races. in the series which suggests itself the fairies come first as the oldest and lowest people: then comes that which i venture to call pictish, possessed of a higher civilization and of warlike instincts. next come the earlier celts of the goidelic branch, the traces, linguistic and other, of whose presence in wales have demanded repeated notice; and last of all come the other celts, the linguistic ancestors of the welsh and all the other speakers of brythonic. the development of these theses, as far as folklore supplies materials, occupies practically the remaining five chapters. among the subsidiary questions raised may be instanced those of magic and the origin of druidism; not to mention a neglected aspect of the arthurian legend, the intimate association of the arthur of welsh folklore and tradition with snowdon, and arthur's attitude towards the goidelic population in his time. lastly, i have the pleasant duty of thanking all those who have helped me, whether by word of mouth or by letter, whether by reference to already printed materials or by assistance in any other way: the names of many of them will be found recorded in their proper places. as a rule my inquiries met with prompt replies, and i am not aware that any difficulties were purposely thrown in my way. nevertheless i have had difficulties in abundance to encounter, such as the natural shyness of some of those whom i wished to examine on the subject of their recollections, and above all the unavoidable difficulty of cross-questioning those whose information reached me by post. for the precise value of any evidence bearing on celtic folklore is almost impossible to ascertain, unless it can be made the subject of cross-examination. this arises from the fact that we celts have a knack of thinking ourselves in complete accord with what we fancy to be in the inquirer's mind, so that we are quite capable of misleading him in perfect good faith. a most apposite instance, deserving of being placed on record, came under my notice many years ago. in the summer of i spent several months in paris, where i met the historian henri martin more than once. on being introduced to him he reminded me that he had visited south wales not long before, and that he had been delighted to find the peasantry there still believing in the transmigration of souls. i expressed my surprise, and remarked that he must be joking. nothing of the kind, he assured me, as he had questioned them himself: the fact admitted of no doubt. i expressed further surprise, but as i perceived that he was proud of the result of his friendly encounters with my countrymen i never ventured to return to the subject, though i always wondered what in the world it could mean. a few years ago, however, i happened to converse with one of the most charming and accomplished of welsh ladies, when she chanced to mention henri martin's advent: it turned out that he had visited dr. charles williams, then the principal of jesus college, and that dr. williams introduced him to his friends in south wales. so m. martin arrived among the hospitable friends of the lady talking to me, who had in fact to act as his interpreter: i never understood that he could talk much english or any welsh. now i have no doubt that m. martin, with his fixed ideas about the druids and their teaching, propounded palpably leading questions for the welsh people whom he wished to examine. his fascinating interpreter put them into terse welsh, and the whole thing was done. i could almost venture to write out the dialogue, which gave back to the great frenchman his own exact notions from the lips of simple peasants in that subtle non-aryan syntax, which no welsh barrister has ever been able to explain to the satisfaction of a bewildered english judge trying to administer justice among a people whom he cannot wholly comprehend. this will serve to illustrate one of the difficulties with which the collector of folklore in wales has to cope. i have done my best to reduce the possible extent of the error to which it might give rise; and it is only fair to say that those whom i plagued with my questionings bore the tedium of it with patience, and that to them my thanks are due in a special degree. neither they, however, nor i, could reasonably complain, if we found other folklorists examining other witnesses on points which had already occupied us; for in such matters one may say with confidence, that in the multitude of counsellors there is safety. john rhys. jesus college, oxford, christmas, . contents page geographical list of authorities xxv list of bibliographical references xxxi chapter i undine's kymric sisters i. the legend of llyn y fan fach ii. the legend of llyn y forwyn iii. some snowdon lake legends iv. the heir of ystrad v. llandegai and llanllechid vi. mapes' story of llyn syfadon chapter ii the fairies' revenge i. bedgelert and its environs ii. the pennant valley iii. glasynys' yarns iv. an apple story v. the conwy afanc vi. the berwyn and aran fawdwy vii. the hinterland of aberdovey viii. some more merioneth stories ix. the children of rhys dwfn x. southey and the green isles of the sea xi. the curse of pantannas xii. more fairy displeasure chapter iii fairy ways and words i. the folklore of nant conwy ii. scenes of the mabinogi of math iii. celynnog fawr and llanaelhaearn iv. the blind man's folklore v. the old saddler's recollections vi. traces of tom tit tot vii. march and his horse's ears viii. the story of the marchlyn mawr ix. the fairy ring of cae lleidr dyfrydog x. a cambrian kelpie xi. sundry traits of fairy character xii. ynys geinon and its fairy treasures xiii. the aged infant xiv. fairy speech chapter iv manx folklore the fenodyree or manx brownie the sleih beggey or little people the butches or witches and the hare charmers and their methods comparisons from the channel islands magic and ancient modes of thought the efficacy of fire to detect the witch burnt sacrifices laa boaldyn or may-day laa lhunys or the beginning of harvest laa houney or hollantide beginning the year sundry prognostications and the time for them chapter v the fenodyree and his friends lincolnshire parallels the brownie of blednoch and bwca'r trwyn prognostication parallels from lincolnshire and herefordshire the traffic in wind and the gallizenæ wells with rags and pins st. catherine's hen plucked at colby the qualtagh or the first-foot and the question of race sundry instances of things unlucky manx reserve and the belief in the enemy of souls the witch of endor's influence and the respectability of the charmer's vocation public penance enforced pretty recently chapter vi the folklore of the wells rag wells in wales the question of distinguishing between offerings and vehicles of disease mr. hartland's decision the author's view revised and illustrated t. e. morris' account of the pin well of llanfaglan other wishing and divining wells the sacred fish of llanberis and llangybi ffynnon grassi producing the glasfryn lake the morgan of that lake and his name ffynnon gywer producing bala lake bala and other towns doomed to submersion the legend of llyn llech owen the parallels of lough neagh and lough ree seithennin's realm overwhelmed by the sea seithennin's name and its congeners prof. dawkins on the lost lands of wales certain irish wells not visited with impunity the lough sheelin legend compared with that of seithennin the priesthood of the wells of st. elian and st. teilo chapter vii triumphs of the water-world the sea encroaching on the coast of glamorgan the kenfig tale of crime and vengeance the crymlyn story and its touch of fascination nennius' description of oper linn liguan compared the vengeance legend of bala lake legends about the llynclys pool the fate of tyno helig the belief in cities submerged intact the phantom city and the bells of aberdovey the ethics of the foregoing legends discussed the limits of the delay of punishment why the fairies delay their vengeance non-ethical legends of the eruption of water cutting the green sward a probable violation of ancient tabu avenged by water divinities the lake afanc's rôle in this connexion the pigmies of the water-world the conwy afanc and the highland water-horse the equine features of march and labraid lore mider and the mac Óc's well horses the gilla decair's horse and du march moro march ab meirchion associated with mona the welsh deluge triads names of the dee and other rivers in north wales the lydney god nudons, nuada, and llud the fairies associated in various ways with water the cyhiraeth and the welsh banshee ancestress rather than ancestor chapter viii welsh cave legends the question of classification the fairy cave of the arennig fawr the cave of mynyd y cnwc waring's version of iolo's legend of craig y dinas craigfryn hughes' monmouthshire tale the story of the cave occupied by owen lawgoch how london bridge came to figure in that story owen lawgoch in ogo'r dinas dinas emrys with the treasure hidden by merlin snowdonian treasure reserved for the goidel arthur's death on the side of snowdon the graves of arthur and rhita elis o'r nant's story of llanciau eryri's cave the top of snowdon named after rhita drystan's cairn the hairy man's cave returning heroes for comparison with arthur and owen lawgoch the baledwyr's owen to return as henry the ninth owen a historical man = froissart's yvain de gales froissart's account of him and the questions it raises owen ousting arthur as a cave-dweller arthur previously supplanting a divinity of the class of the sleeping cronus of demetrius arthur's original sojourn located in faery chapter ix place-name stories the triad of the swineherds of the isle of prydain the former importance of swine's flesh as food the triad clause about coll's straying sow coll's wanderings arranged to explain place-names the kulhwch account of arthur's hunt of twrch trwyth in ireland a parley with the boars the hunt resumed in pembrokeshire the boars reaching the loughor valley their separation one killed by the men of llydaw in ystrad yw ystrad yw defined and its name explained twrch trwyth escaping to cornwall after an encounter in the estuary of the severn the comb, razor, and shears of twrch trwyth the name twrch trwyth some of the names evidence of goidelic speech the story about gwydion and his swine compared place-name explanations blurred or effaced enumeration of arthur's losses in the hunt the men of llydaw's identity and their syfadon home further traces of goidelic names a twrch trwyth incident mentioned by nennius the place-name carn cabal discussed duplicate names with the goidelic form preferred in wales the same phenomenon in the mabinogion the relation between the families of llyr, dôn, and pwyll the elemental associations of llyr and lir matthew arnold's idea of medieval welsh story brân, the tricephal, and the letto-slavic triglaus summary remarks as to the goidels in wales chapter x difficulties of the folklorist the terrors of superstition and magic the folklorist's activity no fostering of superstition folklore a portion of history the difficulty of separating story and history arthur and the snowdon goidels as an illustration rhita gawr and the mad kings nynio and peibio malory's version and the name rhita, ritho, ryons snowdon stories about owen ymhacsen and cai goidelic topography in gwyned the goidels becoming compatriots or kymry the obscurity of certain superstitions a difficulty difficulties arising from their apparent absurdity illustrated by the march and labraid stories difficulties from careless record illustrated by howells' ychen bannog possible survival of traditions about the urus a brief review of the lake legends and the iron tabu the scrappiness of the welsh tom tit tot stories the story of the widow of kittlerumpit compared items to explain the names sìli ffrit and sìli go dwt bwca'r trwyn both brownie and bogie in one that bwca a fairy in service, like the pennant nurse the question of fairies concealing their names magic identifying the name with the person modryb mari regarding cheese-baking as disastrous to the flock her story about the reaper's little black soul gwenogvryn evans' lizard version diseases regarded as also material entities the difficulty of realizing primitive modes of thought chapter xi folklore philosophy the soul as a pigmy or a lizard, and the word enaid a different notion in the mabinogi of math the belief in the persistence of the body through changes shape-shifting and rebirth in gwion's transformations tuan mac cairill, amairgen, and taliessin d'arbois de jubainville's view of erigena's teaching the druid master of his own transformations death not a matter of course so much as of magic this incipient philosophy as gaulish druidism the gauls not all of one and the same beliefs the name and the man enw, 'name,' and the idea of breathing the exact nature of the association still obscure the celts not distinguishing between names and things a celt's name on him, not by him or with him the druid's method of name-giving non-aryan magic requiring metrical formulæ the professional man's curse producing blisters a natural phenomenon arguing a thin-skinned race cursing of no avail without the victim's name magic and kingship linked in the female line chapter xii race in folklore and myth glottology and comparative mythology the question of the feminine in welsh syntax the irish goddess danu and the welsh dôn tynghed or destiny in the kulhwch story traces of a welsh confarreatio in the same context Þokk in the balder story compared with tynghed questions of mythology all the harder owing to race mixture whether the picture of cúchulainn in a rage be aryan or not cúchulainn exempt from the ultonian couvade cúchulainn racially a celt in a society reckoning descent by birth cúchulainn as a rebirth of lug paralleled in lapland doubtful origin of certain legends about lug the historical element in fairy stories and lake legends the notion of the fairies being all women an illustration from central australia fairy counting by fives evidence of a non-celtic race the basque numerals as an illustration prof. sayce on irishmen and berbers dark-complexioned people and fairy changelings the blond fairies of the pennant district exceptional a summary of fairy life from previous chapters sir john wynne's instance of men taken for fairies some of the brythonic names for fairies dwarfs attached to the fortunes of their masters the question of fairy cannibalism the fairy corannians and the historical coritani st. guthlac at croyland in the fens the irish sid, side, and the welsh caer sidi the mound dwellings of pechts and irish fairies prof. j. morris jones explaining the non-aryan syntax of neo-celtic by means of egyptian and berber the picts probably the race that introduced it the first pre-celtic people here probably of the same race as the neolithic dwarfs of the continent the other pre-celtic race, the picts and the people of the mabinogion a word or two by way of epilogue additions and corrections index we are too hasty when we set down our ancestors in the gross for fools, for the monstrous inconsistencies (as they seem to us) involved in their creed of witchcraft. in the relations of this visible world we find them to have been as rational, and shrewd to detect an historic anomaly, as ourselves. but when once the invisible world was supposed to be opened, and the lawless agency of bad spirits assumed, what measures of probability, of decency, of fitness, or proportion--of that which distinguishes the likely from the palpable absurd--could they have to guide them in the rejection or admission of any particular testimony? that maidens pined away, wasting inwardly as their waxen images consumed before a fire--that corn was lodged, and cattle lamed--that whirlwinds uptore in diabolic revelry the oaks of the forest--or that spits and kettles only danced a fearful-innocent vagary about some rustic's kitchen when no wind was stirring--were all equally probable where no law of agency was understood.... there is no law to judge of the lawless, or canon by which a dream may be criticised. charles lamb's essays of elia. a geographical list of authorities and sources of the more important contributions to the welsh folklore anglesey. aberffraw: e. s. roberts (after hugh francis), , . llandyfrydog: e. s. roberts (after robert roberts), , . llyn yr wyth eidion: (no particulars), . mynyd y cnwc: a writer in the brython for , , . mynyd mechell: morris evans (from his grandmother), , . towyn trewern: john roberts, - . ? : lewis morris, in the gwyliedyd, - . brecknockshire. cwm tawe: rd. l. davies, , . ,, : rd. l. davies (after j. davies), - . llangorse: giraldus, in his itinerarium kambriæ, . ? : walter mapes, in his book de nugis, - . ? : the brython for , , . llyn cwm llwch neighbourhood: ivor james, , , . ? : ed. davies, in his mythology and rites, , . cardiganshire. atpar: john rhys (from joseph powell), , . bronnant: d. ll. davies, , . cadabowen: j. gwenogvryn evans, , . llanwenog: j. gwenogvryn evans, . llyn eidwen: j. e. rogers of abermeurig, . moedin: howells, in his cambrian superstitions, . ,, : d. silvan evans, in his ystên sioned, - . ponterwyd: john rhys, , , , , . ,, : mary lewis (modryb mari), , . swyd ffynnon: d. ll. davies, , , . tregaron and neighbourhood: john rhys (from john jones and others), - . troed yr aur } : benjamin williams (gwynionyd), - . and } : gwynionyd, in the brython for and , verwig? } - , - , , , - . ystrad meurig: isaac davies, . ,, ,, : a farmer, . ? : a writer in the brython for , . carmarthenshire. cenarth: b. davies, in the brython, , , . llandeilo: d. lleufer thomas, in y geninen for , . ,, : mr. stepney-gulston, in the arch. camb. for , . llandybie: john fisher, , . ,, : howells, in his cambrian superstitions, . ,, : john fisher and j. p. owen, . mydfai: wm. rees of tonn, in the physicians of mydvai, - . ,, : the bishop of st. asaph, , . ,, : john rhys, . ? : joseph joseph of brecon, . ? : wirt sikes, in his british goblins, , . mynyd y banwen: llywarch reynolds, , , - . ? : i. craigfryn hughes, . carnarvonshire. aber soch: margaret edwards, . ,, : a blacksmith in the neighbourhood, . ? : edward llwyd: see the brython for , , . ? : ms. in the peniarth collection, , . aberdaron: mrs. williams and another, . ? : evan williams of rhos hirwaen, . bedgelert: wm. jones, , , , - , , - . ,, : ,, in the brython for - , - , - . ,, : the brython for , , , . bethesda: david evan davies (dewi glan ffrydlas), - , . bettws y coed: edward llwyd: see the cambrian journal for , - . criccieth neighbourhood: edward llewelyn, - . ? : edward llwyd: see the camb. journal for , , . dinorwig: e. lloyd jones, - . dolbenmaen: w. evans jones, - . dolwydelan: see bedgelert. ,, : see gwybrnant. drws y coed: s. r. williams (from m. williams and another), - . ? : ,, , . edern: john williams (alaw lleyn), - . four crosses: lewis jones, - . glasfryn uchaf: john jones (myrdin fard), , . ,, ,, : mr. and mrs. williams-ellis, - . glynllifon: wm. thomas solomon, - . gwybrnant: ellis pierce (elis o'r nant), - . llanaelhaearn: r. hughes of uwchlaw'r ffynnon, , , - . llanberis: mrs. rhys and her relatives, - , . ,, : m. and o. rhys, . ,, : a correspondent in the liverpool mercury, , . ? : howell thomas (from g. b. gattie), - . ? : pennant, in his tours in wales, . llandegai: h. derfel hughes, - , . ,, : ,, ,, in his antiquities, , . ,, : e. owen, in the powysland club's collections, , . llandwrog: hugh evans and others, . llanfaglan: t. e. morris (from mrs. roberts), , . llangybi: john jones (myrdin fard), . ,, : mrs. williams-ellis, , . llaniestin: evan williams, , , . llanllechid: owen davies (eos llechid), - , - . nefyn: lowri hughes and another woman, , . ,, : john williams (alaw lleyn), . ,, : a writer in the brython for , . penmachno: gethin jones, - . rhyd du: mrs. rhys, . trefriw: morris hughes and j. d. maclaren, - . ,, : pierce williams, . tremadoc: jane williams, , . ,, : r. i. jones (from his mother and ellis owen), - . ,, : ellis owen (cited by wm. jones), . waen fawr: owen davies, . ? : glasynys, in cymru fu, - , - . ? : ,, in the brython for , , . ? : a london eistedfod ( ) competitor, , . ? : john jones (myrdin fard), , , - . ? : owen jones (quoted in the brython for ), , . yspytty ifan?: a liverpool eistedfod ( ) competitor, . denbighshire. bryneglwys: e. s. roberts (from mrs. davies), , . eglwyseg: e. s. roberts (after thomas morris), . ffynnon eilian: mrs. silvan evans, . ,, ,, : isaac foulkes, in his enwogion cymru, . ,, ,, : lewis, in his topographical dictionary, , . ,, ,, : p. roberts, in his camb. popular antiquities, . ,, ,, : a writer in y nofeld, . llangollen: hywel (wm. davies), . pentre voelas: elias owen, in his welsh folk-lore, . flintshire. nil. glamorganshire. bridgend: j. h. davies, d. brynmor-jones, j. rhys, , . crymlyn: cadrawd, in the south wales daily news, , . ? : wirt sikes, in his british goblins, , , . kenfig: iolo morganwg, in the iolo mss., , . ? : david davies, . llanfabon: i. craigfryn hughes, - . llanwynno: glanffrwd, in his plwyf llanwyno, . merthyr tydfil: llywarch reynolds (from his mother), . quakers' yard: i. craigfryn hughes, - . rhonda fechan: llewellyn williams, , . ,, ,, : j. probert evans, , . ,, ,, : ll. reynolds (from d. evans and others), - . rhonda valley: d. j. jones, . ? : dafyd morganwg, in his hanes morganwg, . ? : waring, in his recollections of edward williams, - . merionethshire. aberdovey: j. pughe, in the arch. camb. for , - , . ,, : mrs. prosser powell, . ? : m. b., in the monthly packet for , , . ardudwy: hywel (wm. davies), , . bala: david jones of trefriw: see cyfaill yr aelwyd, , . ,, : wm. davies and owen m. edwards, . ? : humphreys' llyfr gwybodaeth gyffredinol, - . ? : j. h. roberts, in edwards' cymru for , - . dolgelley: lucy griffith (from a dolgelley man), , . llandrillo: e. s. roberts (from a. evans and mrs. edwards), - . llanegryn: mr. williams and mr. rowlands, . ,, : a llanegryn man (after wm. pritchard), . ,, : another llanegryn man, , . llanuwchllyn: owen m. edwards, . ? : j. h. roberts, in edwards' cymru for , - , . ? : glasynys, in the brython for , . ? : ,, in the taliesin for - , , , , . monmouthshire. aberystruth: edm. jones, in his parish of aberystruth, , . llandeilo cressenny: elizabeth williams, , . llanover: wm. williams and other gardeners there, , . ,, : mrs. gardner of ty uchaf llanover, , . ,, : professor sayce, . risca?: i. craigfryn hughes (from hearsay in the district between llanfabon and caerleon), - , , - . montgomeryshire. llanidloes: elias owen, in his welsh folk-lore, . pembrokeshire. fishguard: e. perkins of penysgwarne, , . ,, : ferrar fenton, in the pembroke county guardian, . llandeilo llwydarth: the melchior family, . ,, ,, : benjamin gibby, , . nevern: j. thomas of bancau bryn berian, . trevine: 'ancient mariner,' in the pembroke county guardian, . ? : ferrar fenton, in the pembroke county guardian, . ? : ab nadol, in the brython for , . ? : southey, in his madoc, . radnorshire. nil. to all sorts and conditions of men the author would be glad to hear of unrecorded welsh stories, or bits of welsh stories not comprised in this volume. he would also be grateful for the names of more localities in which the stories here given, or variants of them, are still remembered. it will be his endeavour to place on record all such further information, except stories about spooks and ghosts of the ordinary type. list of bibliographical references ab gwilym: bardoniaeth dafyd ab gwilym, edited by cyndelw (liverpool, ), , , , , . adamnan: the life of st. columba, written by adamnan, edited by william reeves (dublin, ), . agrippa: h. cornelius agrippa de occulta philosophia (paris, ), . aneurin: the book of aneurin (see skene), , , . antiquary, the, a magazine devoted to the study of the past, published by elliot stock (london, -), . ,, : the scottish: see stevenson. archæologia cambrensis, the journal of the cambrian archæological association (london, -), , - , , , , , , , , , , , . athenæum, the, a journal of english and foreign literature, science, fine arts, music, and the drama (london, -), , . atkinson: the book of ballymote, a collection of pieces (prose and verse) in the irish language, compiled about the beginning of the fifteenth century, published by the royal irish academy, with introduction, analysis of contents, and index by robert atkinson (dublin, ), . ,, : the book of leinster, sometimes called the book of glendalough, a collection of pieces (prose and verse) in the irish language, compiled, in part, about the middle of the twelfth century, published by the royal irish academy, with introduction, analysis of contents, and index by robert atkinson (dublin, ), , , , , , , , , . aubrey: miscellanies collected by john aubrey (london, ) [the last chapter is on second-sighted persons in scotland], . bastian: zeitschrift für ethnologie, edited by a. bastian and others (berlin, -), . bathurst: roman antiquities at lydney park: see , . behrens: zeitschrift für französische sprache und litteratur, edited by d. behrens (oppeln and leipsic, -), . bell: early ballads, edited by robert bell (london, ), . bertrand: la religion des gaulois, les druides et le druidisme, by alexandre bertrand (paris, ), , , . bible: the holy bible, revised version (oxford, ), . ,, : the manx bible, printed for the british and foreign bible society (london, ), , , . boschet: la vie du père maunoir, by boschet (paris, ), . bourke: the bull 'ineffabilis' in four languages, translated and edited by the rev. ulick j. bourke (dublin, ), . boyd dawkins: professor boyd dawkins' address on the place of a university in the history of wales (bangor, ), , . bray: the borders of the tamar and the tavy, their natural history, manners, customs, superstitions, &c., in a series of letters to the late robert southey, by mrs. bray (new ed., london, ), . braz: la légende de la mort en basse-bretagne, croyances, traditions et usages des bretons armoricains, by a. le braz (paris, ), . british archæological association, the journal of the: see . british association for the advancement of science, report of the (john murray, london, -), , , , . brynmor-jones: the welsh people, by john rhys and david brynmor-jones (london, ), , , , , , , , , . brython, y: see silvan evans. cambrian: the cambrian biography: see owen. ,, : the cambrian journal, published under the auspices of the cambrian institute [the first volume appeared in in london, and eventually the publication was continued at tenby by r. mason, who went on with it till the year ], , , , , , . ,, : the cambrian newspaper, published at swansea, . ,, : the cambrian popular antiquities: see roberts. ,, : the cambrian quarterly magazine (london, - ), . ,, : the cambrian register, printed for e. and t. williams (london, - ), . campbell: popular tales of the west highlands, with a translation, by j. f. campbell (edinburgh, - ), , , . caradoc: the gwentian chronicle of caradoc of llancarvan, . ,, : the history of wales written originally in british by caradoc of lhancarvan, englished by dr. powell and augmented by w. wynne (london, ), , . carmarthen: the black book of carmarthen (see skene), . carnarvon: registrum vulgariter nuncupatum 'the record of carnarvon,' è codice msto descriptum (london, ), , , , - , . carrington: report of the royal commission on land in wales and monmouthshire, chairman, the earl of carrington (london, ), . chambers: popular rhymes of scotland, by robert chambers (edinburgh, , ), . charencey, h. de, in the bulletin de la société de linguistique de paris, . chaucer: the complete works of geoffrey chaucer, edited from numerous manuscripts by the rev. prof. skeat (oxford, ), . chrétien: erec und enide von christian von troyes, published by wendelin foerster (halle, ), , . cicero: oeuvres complètes de cicéron (the didot ed., paris, ), . clark: limbus patrum morganiæ et glamorganiæ, being the genealogies of the older families of the lordships of morgan and glamorgan, by george t. clark (london, ), . clodd: tom tit tot, an essay on savage philosophy in folklore, by edward clodd (london, ), , , , , , . cochrane: the journal of the royal society of antiquaries of ireland, robert cochrane, secretary (hodges, figgis & co., dublin), . cockayne: leechdoms, wortcunning and starcraft of early england, by the rev. oswald cockayne (rolls series, london, - ), . cormac: cormac's glossary, translated and annotated by john o'donovan, edited with notes and indices by whitley stokes (calcutta, ), , , , , . corneille: le cid, by p. corneille, edited by j. bué (london, ), . cosquin: contes populaires de lorraine, by emmanuel cosquin (paris, ), . cothi: the poetical works of lewis glyn cothi, a welsh bard who flourished in the reigns of henry vi, edward iv, richard iii, and henry vii, edited for the cymmrodorion society by the rev. john jones 'tegid,' and the rev. walter davies 'gwallter mechain' (oxford, ), , , , . coulanges: la cité antique, by n. d. fustel de coulanges (paris, ), , . courson: cartulaire de l'abbaye de redon en bretagne, published by m. aurélien de courson (paris, ), . craigfryn: y ferch o gefn ydfa, by isaac craigfryn hughes (cardiff, ), . cregeen: a dictionary of the manks language, by archibald cregeen (douglas, ), . cumming: the isle of man, its history, physical, ecclesiastical, civil, and legendary, by joseph george cumming (london, ), . curry: the battle of magh leana, together with the courtship of momera, with translation and notes, by eugene curry [later o'curry] (dublin, ), : see also o'curry. cyndelw: cymru fu, a selection of welsh histories, traditions, and tales, published by hughes & son (wrexham, ) [this was originally issued in parts, and it has never borne the editor's name; but it is understood to have been the late poet and antiquary, the rev. robert ellis 'cyndelw'], , , , , , , . dalyell: the darker superstitions of scotland illustrated from history and practice, by john graham dalyell (edinburgh, ), . davies: the mythology and rites of the british druids, by edward davies (london, ), . davies: antiquæ linguæ britannicæ et linguæ latinæ dictionarium duplex, by dr. john davies (london, ), . derfel hughes: hynafiaethau llandegai a llanllechid (antiquities of llandegai and llanllechid), by hugh derfel hughes (bethesda, ), , . dionysius: dionysii halicarnassensis antiquitatum romanorum quæ supersunt (the didot edition, paris, ), . domesday: facsimile of domesday book, the cheshire volume, including a part of flintshire and leicestershire (southampton, - ), . dovaston: [john f. m. dovaston's poetical works appear to have been published in , but i have not seen the book], - . doyle: adventures of sherlock holmes, by a. conan doyle (london, ), . drayton: the battaile of agincourt, by michaell drayton (london, ), . dugdale: monasticon anglicanum, a history of the abbeys and other monasteries in england and wales, by sir william dugdale (vol. v, london, ), , , . edwards: cymru, a monthly magazine edited by owen m. edwards (welsh national press, carnarvon), . elfed: cyfaill yr aelwyd a'r frythones, edited by elfed (the rev. h. elvet lewis) and cadrawd (mr. t. c. evans), and published by williams & son, llanelly, , , . elton: origins of english history, by charles elton (london, ), . elworthy: the evil eye, an account of this ancient and widespread superstition, by frederick thomas elworthy (london, ), . evans: the beauties of england and wales [published in london in - , and comprising two volumes (xvii and xviii) devoted to wales, the former of which (by the rev. j. evans; published in london in ) treats of north wales], . folk-lore: transactions of the folk-lore society (published by david nutt, strand, london), , , , , , , - , , , , . foulkes: geirlyfr bywgraffiadol o enwogion cymru, published and printed by isaac foulkes (liverpool, ), . fouqué: undine, eine erzählung von friedrich baron de la motte fouqué ( th ed., berlin, ), , , , , . frazer: the golden bough, a study in comparative religion, by dr. j. g. frazer (london, ), , . ,, : the origin of totemism (in the fortnightly review for april, ), , . froissart: oeuvres de froissart, chroniques, edited by kervyn de lettenhove (brussels, - ), . ,, : chroniques de j. froissart, published for the 'société de l'histoire de france,' by siméon luce (paris, -), - . ,, : lord berners' translation (in black letter), published in london in , and thomas johnes', in - , . gaidoz: revue celtique, 'fondée par m. henri gaidoz,' - [since then it has been edited by h. d'arbois de jubainville, and it is now published by bouillon in paris ( rue de richelieu)], , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . geoffrey: gottfried's von monmouth historia regum britanniæ und brut tysylio, published by san-marte (halle, ), , , , , , , , , , , . gilbert: leabhar na h-uidhri, a collection of pieces in prose and verse in the irish language, compiled and transcribed about a.d. by moelmuiri mac ceileachar, published by the royal irish academy, and printed from a lithograph of the original by o'longan & o'looney (preface signed by j. t. gilbert, dublin, ), , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . gillen: the native tribes of central australia, by baldwin spencer and f. j. gillen (london, ), , . giraldus: giraldi cambrensis itinerarium kambriæ et descriptio kambriæ, edited by james f. dimock (rolls series, london, ), , , - , , , , , , , . glanffrwd: plwyf llanwyno: yr hen amser, yr hen bobl, a'r hen droion, by glanffrwd [the rev. w. glanffrwd thomas] (pontyprid, ), . gottingen: göttingische gelehrte anzeigen, unter der aufsicht der königl. gesellschaft der wissenschaften (gottingen, ), . gregor: notes on the folk-lore of the north-east of scotland, by the rev. walter gregor, published for the folk-lore society (london, ), . griffin: the poetical and dramatic works of gerald griffin (dublin, ), , . gröber: grundriss der romanischen philologie, unter mitwirkung von fachgenossen, edited by gustav gröber (strassburg, ), . ,, : zeitschrift für romanische philologie, edited by gustav gröber (halle, -), . gruter: iani gruteri corpus inscriptionum (part ii of vol. i, amsterdam, ), . guest: the mabinogion, from the llyfr coch o hergest and other ancient welsh manuscripts, with an english translation and notes by lady charlotte guest (london, ), , , , , , , , , , , , , , , - , , . gwenogvryn: facsimile of the black book of carmarthen, reproduced by the autotype mechanical process, with a palæographical note by j. gwenogvryn evans (oxford, ), , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . ,, : report on manuscripts in the welsh language, published by the historical mss. commission (vol. i, london, - ), , , , . ,, : the text of the bruts from the red book of hergest, edited by john rhys and j. gwenogvryn evans (oxford, ), , , , , , . ,, : the text of the 'mabinogion' and other welsh tales from the red book of hergest, edited by john rhys and j. gwenogvryn evans (oxford, ), , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , - , - , - , , , , - , , , , , , , , - , , , , , - , , , , , , , , . ,, : the text of the book of llan dâv, reproduced from the gwysaney manuscript by j. g. evans, with the co-operation of john rhys (oxford, ) [this is also known as the liber landavensis], , , , , , , , . hancock: senchus mór, vol. i, prefaced by w. neilson hancock (dublin, ), . hardy: descriptive catalogue of materials relating to the history of great britain and ireland, by thos. duffus hardy (vol. i, london, ), . hartland: the legend of perseus, a study of tradition in story, custom, and belief, by edwin sidney hartland (london, - ), . hartland: the science of fairy tales, an inquiry into fairy mythology, by edwin sidney hartland (london, ), , , . henderson: fled bricrend, edited with translation, introduction, and notes, by george henderson (london, ), . henderson: notes on the folk-lore of the northern counties of england and the borders, by wm. henderson (london, ), , . herbord: herbordi vita ottonis ep. bambergensis, in vol. xiv of pertz' monumenta germaniæ historica scriptorum [= script. vol. xii], edited by g. h. pertz (hanover, - ), . hergest: the red book of hergest: see guest, gwenogvryn, skene. heywood: the dramatic works of thomas heywood (london, ), . higden: polychronicon ranulphi higden monachi cestrensis, together with the english translations of john trevisa and an unknown writer of the fifteenth century, edited by ch. babington (rolls series, london, - ), , . holder: alt-celtischer sprachschatz, by alfred holder (leipsic, -), , , . howells: cambrian superstitions, comprising ghosts, omens, witchcraft, and traditions, by w. howells (tipton, ), , , , , , , , , , , , - . hübner: das heiligtum des nodon: see . ,, : inscriptiones britanniæ latinæ, edited by Æmilius hübner and published by the berlin academy (berlin, ), . humphreys: golud yr oes, a welsh magazine published by h. humphreys (vol. i, carnarvon, ), . ,, : llyfr gwybodaeth gyffredinol, a collection of humphreys' penny series (carnarvon, no date), . iolo: iolo manuscripts, a selection of ancient welsh manuscripts in prose and verse from the collection made by edward williams (iolo morganwg), with english translations and notes by his son, taliesin williams ab iolo, and published for the welsh mss. society (llandovery, ), , , , . iolo goch: gweithiau iolo goch gyda nodiadau hanesydol a beirniadol, by charles ashton, published for the cymmrodorion society (oswestry, ), , . jacobs: celtic fairy tales, selected and edited by joseph jacobs (london, ), . jamieson: an etymological dictionary of the scottish language, by john jamieson (new ed., paisley, - ), . jamieson: popular ballads and songs, by robert jamieson (edinburgh, ), . jenkins: bed gelert, its facts, fairies, and folk-lore, by d. e. jenkins (portmadoc, ), , , , , . johnstone: antiquitates celto-normannicæ, containing the chronicle of man and the isles, abridged by camden, edited by james johnstone (copenhagen, ), . jones: see p. for edmund jones' account of the parish of aberystruth (trevecka, ), , . ,, : see p. as to his spirits in the county of monmouth (newport, ), , , . jones: the elucidarium and other tracts in welsh from llyvyr agkyr llandewivrevi, a.d. (jesus college ms. ), edited by j. morris jones and john rhys (oxford, ), , . jones: the myvyrian archaiology of wales, collected out of ancient manuscripts, by owen jones 'myvyr,' edward williams, and william owen (london, ; reprinted in one volume by thomas gee, denbigh, ), , , , , , . jones: a history of the county of brecknock, by the rev. theophilus jones (brecknock, , ), - . joyce: old celtic romances, translated from the gaelic by p. w. joyce (london, ), , , , , . jubainville: le cycle mythologique irlandais et la mythologie celtique, by h. d'arbois de jubainville (paris, ), , , . ,, : essai d'un catalogue de la littérature épique de l'irlande, by h. d'arbois de jubainville (paris, ), , , , . kaluza: libeaus desconus, edited by max kaluza (leipsic, ), . keating: forus feasa air Éirinn, keating's history of ireland, book i, part i, edited, with a literal translation, by p. w. joyce (dublin, ), . kelly: fockleyr manninagh as baarlagh, a manx-english dictionary by john kelly, edited by william gill, and printed for the manx society (douglas, ), , . kermode: yn lioar manninagh, the journal of the isle of man natural history and antiquarian society, edited by p. m. c. kermode (douglas, -), , , , , . kuhn: beiträge zur vergleichenden sprachforschung auf dem gebiete der arischen, celtischen und slawischen sprachen, edited by kuhn and others (berlin, - ), . ,, : zeitschrift für vergleichende sprachforschung auf dem gebiete der indogermanischen sprachen, edited by kuhn and others (berlin, -), . lampeter: the magazine of st. david's college, lampeter, . leem: canuti leemii de lapponibus finmarchiæ commentatio (copenhagen, ), , . leger: cyrille et méthode, Étude historique sur la conversion des slaves au christianisme, by louis leger (paris, ), . lewis: a topographical dictionary of wales, by samuel lewis ( rd ed., london, ), , , . leyden: the poetical works of john leyden (edinburgh, ), . lhuyd: commentarioli britannicæ descriptionis fragmentum, by humfrey lhuyd (cologne, ), . lindsay: the latin language, an historical account of latin sounds, stems, and flexions, by wallace martin lindsay (oxford, ), . loth: les mots latins dans les langues brittoniques, by j. loth (paris, ), . llais y wlad, a newspaper published at bangor, n. wales, . mabinogion: see guest and gwenogvryn. macbain: the celtic magazine, edited by alexander macbain (inverness, -), . malmesbury: de gestis pontificum anglorum libri quinque, edited by n. e. s. a. hamilton (rolls series, london, ), . malory: le morte darthur, by syr thomas malory, the original caxton edition reprinted and edited with an introduction and glossary by h. oskar sommer (nutt, london, ), , . ,, : sir thomas malory's morte darthur, with a preface by john rhys, published by j. m. dent & co. (london, ), , . mapes: gualteri mapes de nugis curialium distinctiones quinque, edited by thomas wright and printed for the camden society, [at the last moment a glance at the original bodley ms. forced me to deviate somewhat from wright's reading owing to its inaccuracy], - , . marquardt: das privatleben der römer, by j. marquardt (leipsic, ), . martin: a description of the western islands of scotland, by m. martin (london, ), , , . maspero: see . maximus: valerii maximi factorum dictorumque memorabilium libri novem ad tiberium cæsarem augustum (the didot ed., paris, ), . mela: pomponii melæ de chorographia libri tres, ed. gustavus parthey (berlin, ), , . meyer: festschrift whitley stokes, dedicated by kuno meyer and others (leipsic, ), . ,, : the vision of macconglinne, edited with a translation by kuno meyer (london, ), , . meyer: zeitschrift für celtische philologie, edited by kuno meyer and l. c. stern (halle, -), . meyer: romania, recueil trimestriel consacré à l'Étude des langues et des littératures romanes, edited by paul meyer and gaston paris (vol. xxviii. paris, ), , , . meyrick: the history and antiquities of the county of cardigan, by samuel rush meyrick (london, ), . milton: english poems, by john milton, . mind, a quarterly review of psychology and philosophy, edited by g. f. stout (london, -), . mommsen: heortologie, antiquarische untersuchungen über die städtischen feste der athener, by august mommsen (leipsic, ), . monthly packet, the, now edited by c. r. coleridge and arthur innes (london, -), , . moore: the folk-lore of the isle of man, by a. w. moore (london, ), . ,, : the surnames and place-names of the isle of man, by a. w. moore (london, ), , , . morgan: an antiquarian survey of east gower, glamorganshire, by w. ll. morgan (london, ), . morganwg: hanes morganwg, by dafyd morganwg [d. w. jones, f.g.s.] (aberdare, ) [an octavo volume issued to subscribers, and so scarce now that i had to borrow a copy], . morris: celtic remains, by lewis morris, edited by silvan evans and printed for the cambrian archæological association (london, ), , , , , . myrdin: prophwydoliaeth myrdin wyllt: see . nennius: nennius und gildas, edited by san-marte (berlin, ), , , , - , . new english dictionary, edited by dr. james h. murray and henry bradley (london and oxford, -), . nicholson: golspie, contributions to its folklore, collected and edited by edward w. b. nicholson (london, ), . nicholson: the poetical works of wm. nicholson ( rd ed., castle douglas, ), . notes and queries (bream's buildings, chancery lane, e.c.), . ,, : choice notes from 'notes and queries,' consisting of folklore (london, ), , , , , , , , , , , , . nutt: the voyage of bran son of febal to the land of the living, by kuno meyer and alfred nutt (london, , ), , , , , . ,, : studies on the legend of the holy grail, by alfred nutt (london, ), , , . o'curry: on the manners and customs of the ancient irish, a series of lectures delivered by the late eugene o'curry (london, ), , , , : see also curry. o'donovan: annals of the kingdom of ireland by the four masters, from the earliest period to the year , edited by john o'donovan ( nd ed., dublin, ), , - , , , . o'grady: silva gadelica, a collection of tales in irish, with extracts illustrating persons and places, edited from manuscripts and translated by dr. s. h. o'grady (london, ), , . o'reilly: an irish-english dictionary, by edward o'reilly, with a supplement by john o'donovan (dublin, ), . oliver: monumenta de insula manniæ, being vol. iv of the publications of the manx society, by j. r. oliver (douglas, ), , . owen: ancient laws and institutes of wales, edited by aneurin owen for the public records commission (london, ), . owen: welsh folk-lore, a collection of the folk-tales and legends of north wales, being the prize essay of the national eistedfod in , by the rev. elias owen (oswestry and wrexham, ), , , . owen: the poetical works of the rev. goronwy owen, with his life and correspondence, edited by the rev. robert jones (london, ), . owen: the description of pembrokeshire, by george owen of henllys, edited with notes and an appendix by henry owen (london, ), , , . owen: the cambrian biography, or historical notices of celebrated men among the ancient britons, by william owen (london, ), , . paris: merlin, roman en prose du xiiie siècle, edited by gaston paris and jacob ulrich (paris, ), . parthey: itinerarium antonini augusti et hierosolymitanum ex libris manu scriptis, edited by g. parthey and m. pinder (berlin, ), . pembroke county guardian, the, a newspaper owned and edited by h. w. williams and published at solva, , , . pennant: a tour in scotland, by thomas pennant (warrington, ), . ,, : a tour in scotland and a voyage to the hebrides, mdcclxxii, by thomas pennant (chester, ), . ,, : tours in wales, by thomas pennant, edited by j. rhys (carnarvon, ), , , . phillimore: annales cambriæ and old-welsh genealogies from harleian ms. , edited by egerton phillimore, in vol. ix of the cymmrodor, , , , , . phillips: the book of common prayer in manx gaelic, being translations made by bishop phillips in and by the manx clergy in ; edited by a. w. moore, assisted by john rhys, and printed for the manx society (douglas, , ), . plautus: t. macci plauti asinaria, from the text of goetz and schoell, by j. h. gray (cambridge, ), . plutarch: de defectu oraculorum (the didot ed., paris, ), , , , . powysland: collections, historical and archæological, relating to montgomeryshire and its borders, issued by the powysland club (london, -), . preller: griechische mythologie, von l. preller, vierte auflage von carl robert (berlin, ), . price: hanes cymru a chenedl y cymry o'r cynoesoed hyd at farwolaeth llewelyn ap gruffyd, by the rev. thomas price 'carnhuanawc' (crickhowel, ), . ptolemy: claudii ptolemæi geographia: e codicibus recognovit carolus müllerus (vol. i, paris, ), , , , , . pughe: the physicians of mydvai (medygon mydfai), translated by john pughe of aberdovey, and edited by the rev. john williams ab ithel (llandovery, ) [this volume has an introduction consisting of the legend of llyn y fan fach, contributed by mr. william rees of tonn, who collected it, in the year , from various sources named], , . pughe: a dictionary of the welsh language explained in english, by dr. wm. owen pughe ( nd ed., denbigh, ), , . rastell: a. c. mery talys, printed by john rastell, reprinted in hazlitt's shakespeare jest-books (london, ), . rees: an essay on the welsh saints or the primitive christians usually considered to have been the founders of churches in wales, by the rev. rice rees (london and llandovery, ), , , , . rees: lives of the cambro-british saints, by the rev. w. j. rees, published for the welsh mss. society (llandovery, ), . rennes: annales de bretagne publiées par la faculté des lettres de rennes (rennes, -), . revue archéologique (new series, vol. xxiii, paris, -), . rhys: celtic britain, by john rhys ( nd ed., london, ), . ,, : lectures on welsh philology, by john rhys ( nd ed., london, ), . ,, : hibbert lectures, , on the origin and growth of religion as illustrated by celtic heathendom, by john rhys (london, ), , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . rhys: studies in the arthurian legend, by john rhys (oxford, ), , , , , , , , - , , , , , , , . rhys: cambrobrytannicæ cymraecæve linguæ institutiones et rudimenta ... conscripta à joanne dauide rhæso, monensi lanuaethlæo cambrobrytanno, medico senensi (london, ), , . richard: the poetical works of the rev. edward richard (london, ), . richards: a welsh and english dictionary, by thomas richards (trefriw, ) . roberts: the cambrian popular antiquities, by peter roberts, (london, ), . rosellini: see . rymer: foedera, conventiones, literæ et cujuscunque generis acta publica inter reges angliæ et alios quosvis imperatores, reges, pontifices, principes, vel communitates, edited by thomas rymer (vol. viii, london, ), . sale: the koran, translated into english with explanatory notes and a preliminary discourse, by george sale (london, ), . sampson: otia merseiana, the publication of the arts faculty of university college, liverpool, edited by john sampson (london), , . san-marte: beiträge zur bretonischen und celtisch-germanischen heldensage, by san-marte (quedlinburg, ), . schwan: grammatik des altfranzösischen, by eduard schwan (leipsic, ), . scotland: proceedings of the society of antiquaries of scotland (edinburgh), . scott: the works of sir walter scott, , , . sébillot: traditions et superstitions de la haute-bretagne, by paul sébillot (paris, ), . shakespeare: the plays and poems of shakespeare, , , . sikes: british goblins, welsh folk-lore, fairy mythology, legends and traditions, by wirt sikes (london, ), , , , , , , , . silvan evans: dictionary of the welsh language (geiriadur cymraeg), by d. silvan evans (carmarthen, -), , , , , , . ,, ,, : y brython, a periodical in welsh for welsh antiquities and folklore, edited by the rev. d. s. evans, and published by robert isaac jones at tremadoc (in quarto for and , in octavo for - ), , , , , , , , - , - , , , , , , , , , . ,, ,, : ystên sioned, by d. silvan evans (aberystwyth, ), - . simrock: die edda, die ältere und jüngere, nebst den mythischen erzählungen der skalda, translated and explained by karl simrock (stuttgart, ), . sinclair: the statistical account of scotland, drawn up from the communications of the ministers of the different parishes, by sir john sinclair (edinburgh, ), . skene: chronicles of the picts, chronicles of the scots, and other memorials of scottish history, edited by wm. f. skene (edinburgh, ), . skene: the four ancient books of wales, by wm. f. skene (edinburgh, ) [vol. ii contains, besides notes and illustrations, the text of the black book of carmarthen, - ; the book of aneurin, - ; the book of taliessin, - ; and some of the poetry in the red book of hergest, - . these four texts are to be found translated in vol. i], , , , , , , , , , - . south wales daily news (duncan, cardiff), . southey: madoc, a poem by robert southey (london, ), - . speed: the theatre of the empire of great britaine, by john speed [not speede] (london, ), . steinmeyer: die althochdeutschen glossen, collected and elaborated by elias steinmeyer and eduard sievers (berlin, - ), . stengel: li romans de durmart le galois, altfranzösisches rittergedicht, published for the first time by edmund stengel (tübingen, ), . stephens: the gododin of aneurin gwawdryd, with an english translation and copious notes, by thomas stephens; edited by professor powel, and printed for the cymmrodorion society (london, ), , , . stevenson: the scottish antiquary or northern notes and queries, edited by j. h. stevenson (edinburgh, -), . stokes: cormac's glossary: see cormac. ,, : goidelica, old and early-middle-irish glosses, prose and verse, edited by whitley stokes ( nd ed., london, ), , . ,, : irische texte mit uebersetzungen und wörterbuch, edited by whitley stokes and e. windisch ( rd series, leipsic, ), . ,, : the tripartite life of patrick, edited, with translations and indexes, by whitley stokes (rolls series, london, ), . ,, : urkeltischer sprachschatz von whitley stokes, übersetzt, überarbeitet und herausgegeben von adalbert bezzenberger, forming the second part of the fourth edition of fick's vergleichendes wörterbuch der indogermanischen sprachen (gottingen, ), . strabo: strabonis geographica recognovit augustus meineke (leipsic, - ), . sturlæus: edda snorronis sturlæi (copenhagen, ), . tacitus: cornelii taciti de origine et situ germanorum liber, edited by alfred holder (freiburg i. b., and tübingen, ), . taliesin, a welsh periodical published at ruthin in - , - , . taliessin: the book of taliessin (see skene), , - . tegid: gwaith bardonol y diwedar barch. john jones 'tegid' [also called joan tegid], edited by the rev. henry roberts (llandovery, ), . triads: [the so-called historical triads, referred to in this volume, are to be found in the myvyrian archaiology (london, ), series i and ii in vol. ii, - , and (the later) series iii in the same vol., - . in the single-volume edition of the myvyrian (denbigh, ), they occupy continuously pp. - . series ii comes from the red book of hergest, and will be found also in the volume of the oxford mabinogion, pp. - ], , , , , - , , , , - , , , , - , , . tylor: primitive culture, researches into the development of mythology, philosophy, religion, language, art, and custom, by edward tylor ( nd ed., london, ), , , , , , . twyne: thomas twyne's breuiary of britayne, a translation of humfrey lhuyd's fragmentum (london, ), . ulfilas: ulfilas, text, grammar, and dictionary, elaborated and edited by f. l. stamm (paderborn, ), . vigfusson: an icelandic dictionary, enlarged and completed by gudbrand vigfusson (oxford, ), , . vising: see . waldron: a description of the isle of man, by george waldron, being vol. xi of the manx society's publications (douglas, ), . waring: recollections and anecdotes of edward williams, by elijah waring (london, ), . westermarck: the history of human marriage, by edward westermarck (london, ), . weyman: from the memoirs of a minister of france, by stanley weyman (london, ), . williams: the english works of eliezer williams, with a memoir of his life by his son, st. george armstrong williams (london, ), . williams: brut y tywysogion, or the chronicle of the princes, edited by john williams ab ithel (rolls series, london, ), , . williams: a biographical dictionary of eminent welshmen, by the rev. robert williams (llandovery, ), . ,, : y seint greal, edited with a translation and glossary by the rev. robert williams (london, ), , , . williams: the doom of colyn dolphyn, by taliesin williams (london, ), . ,, : traethawd ar gywreined glynn ned, by taliesin williams: see . williams: observations on the snowdon mountains, by william williams of llandegai (london, ), , , . windisch: irische texte mit wörterbuch, by ernst windisch (leipsic, ), , . ,, : kurzgefasste irische grammatik (leipsic, ), , , , , , , , , , . ,, : Über die irische sage noinden ulad, in the berichte der k. sächs. gesellschaft der wissenschaften (phil.-historische classe, dec. ), . woodall: bye-gones, a periodical reissue of notes, queries, and replies on subjects relating to wales and the borders, published in the columns of the border counties advertizer, by messrs. woodall, minshall & co. of the caxton press, oswestry, , . wood-martin: pagan ireland, by w. g. wood-martin (london, ), . worth: a history of devonshire, with sketches of its leading worthies, by r. n. worth (london, ), . wright: the english dialect dictionary, edited by professor joseph wright (london and oxford, -), . wynne: the history of the gwydir family, published by angharad llwyd in the year , and by askew roberts at oswestry in , , , . y cymmrodor, the magazine embodying the transactions of the cymmrodorion society of london (secretary, e. vincent evans, chancery lane, w.c.), , , , , , , , , , , . y drych, a newspaper published at utica in the united states of north america, . y gordofigion, an extinct welsh periodical: see p. . y gwyliedyd, a magazine of useful knowledge intended for the benefit of monoglot welshmen (bala, - ), . y nofelyd, a welsh periodical published by mr. aubrey, of llannerch y med, . young: burghead, by h. w. young (inverness, ), . celtic folklore welsh and manx gallias utique possedit, et quidem ad nostram memoriam. namque tiberii cæsaris principatus sustulit druidas eorum, et hoc genus vatum medicorumque. sed quid ego hæc commemorem in arte oceanum quoque transgressa, et ad naturæ inane pervecta? britannia hodieque eam attonite celebrat tantis cerimoniis, ut dedisse persis videri possit. adeo ista toto mundo consensere, quamquam discordi et sibi ignoto. nec satis æstimari potest, quantum romanis debeatur, qui sustulere monstra, in quibus hominem occidere religiosissimum erat, mandi vero etiam saluberrimum. pliny, historia naturalis, xxx. . pline fait remarquer que ces pratiques antipathiques au génie grec sont d'origine médique. nous les rencontrons en europe à l'état de survivances. l'universalité de ces superstitions prouve en effet qu'elles émanent d'une source unique qui n'est pas européenne. il est difficile de les considérer comme un produit de l'esprit aryen; il faut remonter plus haut pour en trouver l'origine. si, en gaule, en grande-bretagne, en irlande, tant de superstitions relevant de la magie existaient encore au temps de pline enracinées dans les esprits à tel point que le grand naturaliste pouvait dire, à propos de la bretagne, qu'il semblait que ce fût elle qui avait donné la magie à la perse, c'est qu'en gaule, en grande-bretagne, et en irlande le fond de la population était composé d'éléments étrangers à la race aryenne, comme les faits archéologiques le démontrent, ainsi que le reconnait notre éminent confrère et ami, m. d'arbois de jubainville lui-même. alexandre bertrand, la religion des gaulois, pp. , . une croyance universellement admise dans le monde lettré, en france et hors de france, fait des français les fils des gaulois qui ont pris rome en avant jésus-christ, et que césar a vaincus au milieu du premier siècle avant notre ère. on croit que nous sommes des gaulois, survivant à toutes les révolutions qui depuis tant de siècles ont bouleversé le monde. c'est une idée préconçue que, suivant moi, la science doit rejeter. seuls à peu près, les archéologues ont vu la vérité.... les pierres levées, les cercles de pierre, les petites cabanes construites en gros blocs de pierre pour servir de dernier asile aux défunts, étaient, croyait-on, des monuments celtiques.... on donnait à ces rustiques témoignages d'une civilisation primitive des noms bretons, ou néo-celtiques de france; on croyait naïvement, en reproduisant des mots de cette langue moderne, parler comme auraient fait, s'ils avaient pu revenir à la vie, ceux qui ont remué ces lourdes pierres, ceux qui les ont fixées debout sur le sol ou même élevées sur d'autres.... mais ceux qui ont dressé les pierres levées, les cercles de pierres; ceux qui ont construit les cabanes funéraires ne parlaient pas celtique et le breton diffère du celtique comme le français du latin. h. d'arbois de jubainville, les premiers habitants de l'europe, ii. xi-xiii. chapter i undine's kymric sisters undine, liebes bildchen du, seit ich zuerst aus alten kunden dein seltsam leuchten aufgefunden, wie sangst du oft mein herz in ruh! de la motte fouqué. the chief object of this and several of the following chapters is to place on record all the matter i can find on the subject of welsh lake legends: what i may have to say of them is merely by the way and sporadic, and i should feel well paid for my trouble if these contributions should stimulate others to communicate to the public bits of similar legends, which, possibly, still linger unrecorded among the mountains of wales. for it should be clearly understood that all such things bear on the history of the welsh, as the history of no people can be said to have been written so long as its superstitions and beliefs in past times have not been studied; and those who may think that the legends here recorded are childish and frivolous, may rest assured that they bear on questions which could not themselves be called either childish or frivolous. so, however silly a legend may be thought, let him who knows such a legend communicate it to somebody who will place it on record; he will then probably find that it has more meaning and interest than he had anticipated. i. i find it best to begin by reproducing a story which has already been placed on record: this appears desirable on account of its being the most complete of its kind, and the one with which shorter ones can most readily be compared. i allude to the legend of the lady of llyn y fan fach in carmarthenshire, which i take the liberty of copying from mr. rees of tonn's version in the introduction to the physicians of mydvai [ ], published by the welsh manuscript society, at llandovery, in . there he says that he wrote it down from the oral recitations, which i suppose were in welsh, of john evans, tiler, of mydfai, david williams, morfa, near mydfai, who was about ninety years old at the time, and elizabeth morgan, of henllys lodge, near llandovery, who was a native of the same village of mydfai; to this it may be added that he acknowledges obligations also to joseph joseph, esq., f.s.a., brecon, for collecting particulars from the old inhabitants of the parish of llandeusant. the legend, as given by mr. rees in english, runs as follows, and strongly reminds one in certain parts of the story of undine as given in the german of de la motte fouqué, with which it should be compared:-- 'when the eventful struggle made by the princes of south wales to preserve the independence of their country was drawing to its close in the twelfth century, there lived at blaensawde [ ] near llandeusant, carmarthenshire, a widowed woman, the relict of a farmer who had fallen in those disastrous troubles. 'the widow had an only son to bring up, but providence smiled upon her, and despite her forlorn condition, her live stock had so increased in course of time, that she could not well depasture them upon her farm, so she sent a portion of her cattle to graze on the adjoining black mountain, and their most favourite place was near the small lake called llyn y fan fach, on the north-western side of the carmarthenshire fans. 'the son grew up to manhood, and was generally sent by his mother to look after the cattle on the mountain. one day, in his peregrinations along the margin of the lake, to his great astonishment, he beheld, sitting on the unruffled surface of the water, a lady; one of the most beautiful creatures that mortal eyes ever beheld, her hair flowed gracefully in ringlets over her shoulders, the tresses of which she arranged with a comb, whilst the glassy surface of her watery couch served for the purpose of a mirror, reflecting back her own image. suddenly she beheld the young man standing on the brink of the lake, with his eyes riveted on her, and unconsciously offering to herself the provision of barley bread and cheese with which he had been provided when he left his home. 'bewildered by a feeling of love and admiration for the object before him, he continued to hold out his hand towards the lady, who imperceptibly glided near to him, but gently refused the offer of his provisions. he attempted to touch her, but she eluded his grasp, saying-- cras dy fara; hard baked is thy bread! nid hawd fy nala. 'tis not easy to catch me [ ]; and immediately dived under the water and disappeared, leaving the love-stricken youth to return home, a prey to disappointment and regret that he had been unable to make further acquaintance with one, in comparison with whom the whole of the fair maidens of llandeusant and mydfai [ ] whom he had ever seen were as nothing. on his return home the young man communicated to his mother the extraordinary vision he had beheld. she advised him to take some unbaked dough or "toes" the next time in his pocket, as there must have been some spell connected with the hard-baked bread, or "bara cras," which prevented his catching the lady. 'next morning, before the sun had gilded with its rays the peaks of the fans, the young man was at the lake, not for the purpose of looking after his mother's cattle, but seeking for the same enchanting vision he had witnessed the day before; but all in vain did he anxiously strain his eyeballs and glance over the surface of the lake, as only the ripples occasioned by a stiff breeze met his view, and a cloud hung heavily on the summit of the fan, which imparted an additional gloom to his already distracted mind. 'hours passed on, the wind was hushed, and the clouds which had enveloped the mountain had vanished into thin air before the powerful beams of the sun, when the youth was startled by seeing some of his mother's cattle on the precipitous side of the acclivity, nearly on the opposite side of the lake. his duty impelled him to attempt to rescue them from their perilous position, for which purpose he was hastening away, when, to his inexpressible delight, the object of his search again appeared to him as before, and seemed much more beautiful than when he first beheld her. his hand was again held out to her, full of unbaked bread, which he offered with an urgent proffer of his heart also, and vows of eternal attachment. all of which were refused by her, saying-- llaith dy fara! unbaked is thy bread! ti ni fynna'. i will not have thee [ ]. but the smiles that played upon her features as the lady vanished beneath the waters raised within the young man a hope that forbade him to despair by her refusal of him, and the recollection of which cheered him on his way home. his aged parent was made acquainted with his ill-success, and she suggested that his bread should next time be but slightly baked, as most likely to please the mysterious being of whom he had become enamoured. 'impelled by an irresistible feeling, the youth left his mother's house early next morning, and with rapid steps he passed over the mountain. he was soon near the margin of the lake, and with all the impatience of an ardent lover did he wait with a feverish anxiety for the reappearance of the mysterious lady. 'the sheep and goats browsed on the precipitous sides of the fan; the cattle strayed amongst the rocks and large stones, some of which were occasionally loosened from their beds and suddenly rolled down into the lake; rain and sunshine alike came and passed away; but all were unheeded by the youth, so wrapped up was he in looking for the appearance of the lady. 'the freshness of the early morning had disappeared before the sultry rays of the noon-day sun, which in its turn was fast verging towards the west as the evening was dying away and making room for the shades of night, and hope had wellnigh abated of beholding once more the lady of the lake. the young man cast a sad and last farewell look over the waters, and, to his astonishment, beheld several cows walking along its surface. the sight of these animals caused hope to revive that they would be followed by another object far more pleasing; nor was he disappointed, for the maiden reappeared, and to his enraptured sight, even lovelier than ever. she approached the land, and he rushed to meet her in the water. a smile encouraged him to seize her hand; neither did she refuse the moderately baked bread he offered her; and after some persuasion she consented to become his bride, on condition that they should only live together until she received from him three blows without a cause, tri ergyd diachos. three causeless blows. and if he ever should happen to strike her three such blows she would leave him for ever. to such conditions he readily consented, and would have consented to any other stipulation, had it been proposed, as he was only intent on then securing such a lovely creature for his wife. 'thus the lady of the lake engaged to become the young man's wife, and having loosed her hand for a moment she darted away and dived into the lake. his chagrin and grief were such that he determined to cast himself headlong into the deepest water, so as to end his life in the element that had contained in its unfathomed depths the only one for whom he cared to live on earth. as he was on the point of committing this rash act, there emerged out of the lake two most beautiful ladies, accompanied by a hoary-headed man of noble mien and extraordinary stature, but having otherwise all the force and strength of youth. this man addressed the almost bewildered youth in accents calculated to soothe his troubled mind, saying that as he proposed to marry one of his daughters, he consented to the union, provided the young man could distinguish which of the two ladies before him was the object of his affections. this was no easy task, as the maidens were such perfect counterparts of each other that it seemed quite impossible for him to choose his bride, and if perchance he fixed upon the wrong one all would be for ever lost. 'whilst the young man narrowly scanned the two ladies, he could not perceive the least difference betwixt the two, and was almost giving up the task in despair, when one of them thrust her foot a slight degree forward. the motion, simple as it was, did not escape the observation of the youth, and he discovered a trifling variation in the mode with which their sandals were tied. this at once put an end to the dilemma, for he, who had on previous occasions been so taken up with the general appearance of the lady of the lake, had also noticed the beauty of her feet and ankles, and on now recognizing the peculiarity of her shoe-tie he boldly took hold of her hand. '"thou hast chosen rightly," said her father; "be to her a kind and faithful husband, and i will give her, as a dowry, as many sheep, cattle, goats, and horses as she can count of each without heaving or drawing in her breath. but remember, that if you prove unkind to her at any time, and strike her three times without a cause, she shall return to me, and shall bring all her stock back with her." 'such was the verbal marriage settlement, to which the young man gladly assented, and his bride was desired to count the number of sheep she was to have. she immediately adopted the mode of counting by fives, thus:--one, two, three, four, five--one, two, three, four, five; as many times as possible in rapid succession, till her breath was exhausted. the same process of reckoning had to determine the number of goats, cattle, and horses respectively; and in an instant the full number of each came out of the lake when called upon by the father. 'the young couple were then married, by what ceremony was not stated, and afterwards went to reside at a farm called esgair llaethdy, somewhat more than a mile from the village of mydfai, where they lived in prosperity and happiness for several years, and became the parents of three sons, who were beautiful children. 'once upon a time there was a christening to take place in the neighbourhood, to which the parents were specially invited. when the day arrived the wife appeared very reluctant to attend the christening, alleging that the distance was too great for her to walk. her husband told her to fetch one of the horses which were grazing in an adjoining field. "i will," said she, "if you will bring me my gloves which i left in our house." he went to the house and returned with the gloves, and finding that she had not gone for the horse jocularly slapped her shoulder with one of them, saying, "go! go!" (dos, dos), when she reminded him of the understanding upon which she consented to marry him:--that he was not to strike her without a cause; and warned him to be more cautious for the future. 'on another occasion, when they were together at a wedding, in the midst of the mirth and hilarity of the assembled guests, who had gathered together from all the surrounding country, she burst into tears and sobbed most piteously. her husband touched her on her shoulder and inquired the cause of her weeping: she said, "now people are entering into trouble, and your troubles are likely to commence, as you have the second time stricken me without a cause." 'years passed on, and their children had grown up, and were particularly clever young men. in the midst of so many worldly blessings at home the husband almost forgot that there remained only one causeless blow to be given to destroy the whole of his prosperity. still he was watchful lest any trivial occurrence should take place which his wife must regard as a breach of their marriage contract. she told him, as her affection for him was unabated, to be careful that he would not, through some inadvertence, give the last and only blow, which, by an unalterable destiny, over which she had no control, would separate them for ever. 'it, however, so happened that one day they were together at a funeral, where, in the midst of the mourning and grief at the house of the deceased, she appeared in the highest and gayest spirits, and indulged in immoderate fits of laughter, which so shocked her husband that he touched her, saying, "hush! hush! don't laugh." she said that she laughed "because people when they die go out of trouble," and, rising up, she went out of the house, saying, "the last blow has been struck, our marriage contract is broken, and at an end! farewell!" then she started off towards esgair llaethdy, where she called her cattle and other stock together, each by name. the cattle she called thus:-- mu wlfrech, moelfrech, brindled cow, white speckled, mu olfrech, gwynfrech, spotted cow, bold freckled, pedair cae tonn-frech, the four field sward mottled, yr hen wynebwen, the old white-faced, a'r las geigen, and the grey geingen, gyda'r tarw gwyn with the white bull, o lys y brenin; from the court of the king; a'r llo du bach, and the little black calf syd ar y bach, tho' suspended on the hook, dere dithau, yn iach adre! come thou also, quite well home! they all immediately obeyed the summons of their mistress. the "little black calf," although it had been slaughtered, became alive again, and walked off with the rest of the stock at the command of the lady. this happened in the spring of the year, and there were four oxen ploughing in one of the fields; to these she cried:-- pedwar eidion glas the four grey oxen, syd ar y maes, that are on the field, denwch chwithan come you also yn iach adre! quite well home! away the whole of the live stock went with the lady across mydfai mountain, towards the lake from whence they came, a distance of above six miles, where they disappeared beneath its waters, leaving no trace behind except a well-marked furrow, which was made by the plough the oxen drew after them into the lake, and which remains to this day as a testimony to the truth of this story. 'what became of the affrighted ploughman--whether he was left on the field when the oxen set off, or whether he followed them to the lake, has not been handed down to tradition; neither has the fate of the disconsolate and half-ruined husband been kept in remembrance. but of the sons it is stated that they often wandered about the lake and its vicinity, hoping that their mother might be permitted to visit the face of the earth once more, as they had been apprised of her mysterious origin, her first appearance to their father, and the untoward circumstances which so unhappily deprived them of her maternal care. 'in one of their rambles, at a place near dôl howel, at the mountain gate, still called "llidiad y medygon," the physicians' gate, the mother appeared suddenly, and accosted her eldest son, whose name was rhiwallon, and told him that his mission on earth was to be a benefactor to mankind by relieving them from pain and misery, through healing all manner of their diseases; for which purpose she furnished him with a bag full of medical prescriptions and instructions for the preservation of health. that by strict attention thereto he and his family would become for many generations the most skilful physicians in the country. then, promising to meet him when her counsel was most needed, she vanished. but on several occasions she met her sons near the banks of the lake, and once she even accompanied them on their return home as far as a place still called "pant-y-medygon," the dingle of the physicians, where she pointed out to them the various plants and herbs which grew in the dingle, and revealed to them their medicinal qualities or virtues; and the knowledge she imparted to them, together with their unrivalled skill, soon caused them to attain such celebrity that none ever possessed before them. and in order that their knowledge should not be lost, they wisely committed the same to writing, for the benefit of mankind throughout all ages.' to the legend mr. rees added the following notes, which we reproduce also at full length:-- 'and so ends the story of the physicians of mydfai, which has been handed down from one generation to another, thus:-- yr hên wr llwyd o'r cornel, the grey old man in the corner gan ci dad a glywod chwedel [ ], of his father heard a story, a chan ci dad fe glywod yntau which from his father he had heard, ac ar ei ôl mi gofiais innau. and after them i have remembered. as stated in the introduction of the present work [i.e. the physicians of mydvai], rhiwallon and his sons became physicians to rhys gryg, lord of llandovery and dynefor castles, "who gave them rank, lands, and privileges at mydfai for their maintenance in the practice of their art and science, and the healing and benefit of those who should seek their help," thus affording to those who could not afford to pay, the best medical advice and treatment gratuitously. such a truly royal foundation could not fail to produce corresponding effects. so the fame of the physicians of mydfai was soon established over the whole country, and continued for centuries among their descendants. 'the celebrated welsh bard, dafyd ap gwilym, who flourished in the following century, and was buried at the abbey of tal-y-llychau [ ], in carmarthenshire, about the year , says in one of his poems, as quoted in dr. davies' dictionary-- medyg ni wnai mod y gwnaeth a physician he would not make mydfai, o chai dyn medfaeth. as mydfai made, if he had a mead fostered man. of the above lands bestowed upon the medygon, there are two farms in mydfai parish still called "llwyn ifan fedyg," the grove of evan the physician; and "llwyn meredyd fedyg," the grove of meredith the physician. esgair llaethdy, mentioned in the foregoing legend, was formerly in the possession of the above descendants, and so was ty newyd, near mydfai, which was purchased by mr. holford, of cilgwyn, from the rev. charles lloyd, vicar of llandefalle, breconshire, who married a daughter of one of the medygon, and had the living of llandefalle from a mr. vaughan, who presented him to the same out of gratitude, because mr. lloyd's wife's father had cured him of a disease in the eye. as mr. lloyd succeeded to the above living in , and died in , it is probable that the skilful oculist was john jones, who is mentioned in the following inscription on a tombstone at present fixed against the west end of mydfai church:-- here lieth the body of mr. david jones, of mothvey, surgeon, who was an honest, charitable, and skilful man. he died september th, anno dom , aged . john jones, surgeon, eldest son of the said david jones, departed this life the th of november, , in the th year of his age, and also lyes interred hereunder. these appear to have been the last of the physicians who practised at mydfai. the above john jones resided for some time at llandovery, and was a very eminent surgeon. one of his descendants, named john lewis, lived at cwmbran, mydfai, at which place his great-grandson, mr. john jones, now resides. 'dr. morgan owen, bishop of llandaff, who died at glasallt, parish of mydfai, in , was a descendant of the medygon, and an inheritor of much of their landed property in that parish, the bulk of which he bequeathed to his nephew, morgan owen, who died in , and was succeeded by his son henry owen; and at the decease of the last of whose descendants, robert lewis, esq., the estates became, through the will of one of the family, the property of the late d. a. s. davies, esq., m.p. for carmarthenshire. 'bishop owen bequeathed to another nephew, morgan ap rees, son of rees ap john, a descendant of the medygon, the farm of rhyblid, and some other property. morgan ap rees' son, samuel rice, resided at loughor, in gower, glamorganshire, and had a son, morgan rice, who was a merchant in london, and became lord of the manor of tooting graveney, and high sheriff in the year , and deputy lieutenant of the county of surrey, . he resided at hill house, which he built. at his death the whole of his property passed to his only child, john rice, esq., whose eldest son, the rev. john morgan rice, inherited the greater portion of his estates. the head of the family is now the rev. horatio morgan rice, rector of south hill with callington, cornwall, and j.p. for the county, who inherited, with other property, a small estate at loughor. the above morgan rice had landed property in llanmadock and llangenith, as well as loughor, in gower, but whether he had any connexion with howel the physician (ap rhys ap llywelyn ap philip the physician, and lineal descendant from einion ap rhiwallon), who resided at cilgwryd in gower, is not known. 'amongst other families who claim descent from the physicians were the bowens of cwmydw, mydfai; and jones of dollgarreg and penrhock, in the same parish; the latter of whom are represented by charles bishop, of dollgarreg, esq., clerk of the peace for carmarthenshire, and thomas bishop, of brecon, esq. 'rees williams of mydfai is recorded as one of the medygon. his great-grandson was the late rice williams, m.d., of aberystwyth, who died may , , aged , and appears to have been the last, although not the least eminent, of the physicians descended from the mysterious lady of llyn y fan [ ].' this brings the legend of the lady of the fan lake into connexion with a widely-spread family. there is another connexion between it and modern times, as will be seen from the following statement kindly made to me by the rev. a. g. edwards, warden of the welsh college at llandovery, since then appointed bishop of st. asaph: 'an old woman from mydfai, who is now, that is to say in january , about eighty years of age, tells me that she remembers "thousands and thousands of people visiting the lake of the little fan on the first sunday or monday in august, and when she was young she often heard old men declare that at that time a commotion took place in the lake, and that its waters boiled, which was taken to herald the approach of the lake lady and her oxen."' the custom of going up to the lake on the first sunday in august was a very well known one in years gone by, as i have learned from a good many people, and it is corroborated by mr. joseph joseph of brecon, who kindly writes as follows, in reply to some queries of mine: 'on the first sunday in the month of august, llyn y fan fach is supposed to be boiling (berwi). i have seen scores of people going up to see it (not boiling though) on that day. i do not remember that any of them expected to see the lady of the lake.' as to the boiling of the lake i have nothing to say, and i am not sure that there is anything in the following statement made as an explanation of the yearly visit to the lake by an old fisherwoman from llandovery: 'the best time for eels is in august, when the north-east wind blows on the lake, and makes huge waves in it. the eels can then be seen floating on the waves.' last summer i went myself to the village of mydfai, to see if i could pick up any variants of the legend, but i was hardly successful; for though several of the farmers i questioned could repeat bits of the legend, including the lake lady's call to her cattle as she went away, i got nothing new, except that one of them said that the youth, when he first saw the lake lady at a distance, thought she was a goose--he did not even rise to the conception of a swan--but that by degrees he approached her, and discovered that she was a lady in white, and that in due time they were married, and so on. my friend, the warden of llandovery college, seems, however, to have found a bit of a version which may have been still more unlike the one recorded by mr. rees of tonn: it was from an old man at mydfai last year, from whom he was, nevertheless, only able to extract the statement 'that the lake lady got somehow entangled in a farmer's "gambo," and that ever after his farm was very fertile.' a 'gambo,' i ought to explain, is a kind of a cart without sides, used in south wales: both the name and the thing seem to have come from england, though i cannot find such a word as gambo or gambeau in the ordinary dictionaries. among other legends about lake fairies, there are, in the third chapter of mr. sikes' british goblins, two versions of this story: the first of them differs but slightly from mr. rees', in that the farmer used to go near the lake to see some lambs he had bought at a fair, and that whenever he did so three beautiful damsels appeared to him from the lake. they always eluded his attempts to catch them: they ran away into the lake, saying, cras dy fara, &c. but one day a piece of moist bread came floating ashore, which he ate, and the next day he had a chat with the lake maidens. he proposed marriage to one of them, to which she consented, provided he could distinguish her from her sisters the day after. the story then, so far as i can make out from the brief version which mr. sikes gives of it, went on like that of mr. rees. the former gives another version, with much more interesting variations, which omit all reference, however, to the physicians of mydfai, and relate how a young farmer had heard of the lake maiden rowing up and down the lake in a golden boat with a golden scull. he went to the lake on new year's eve, saw her, was fascinated by her, and left in despair at her vanishing out of sight, although he cried out to her to stay and be his wife. she faintly replied, and went her way, after he had gazed at her long yellow hair and pale melancholy face. he continued to visit the lake, and grew thin and negligent of his person, owing to his longing. but a wise man, who lived on the mountain, advised him to tempt her with gifts of bread and cheese, which he undertook to do on midsummer eve, when he dropped into the lake a large cheese and a loaf of bread. this he did repeatedly, until at last his hopes were fulfilled on new year's eve. this time he had gone to the lake clad in his best suit, and at midnight dropped seven white loaves and his biggest and finest cheese into the lake. the lake lady by-and-by came in her skiff to where he was, and gracefully stepped ashore. the scene need not be further described: mr. sikes gives a picture of it, and the story then proceeds as in the other version. it is a pity that mr. rees did not preserve the welsh versions out of which he pieced together the english one; but as to mr. sikes, i cannot discover whence his has been derived, for he seems not to have been too anxious to leave anybody the means of testing his work, as one will find on verifying his references, when he gives any. see also the allusions to him in hartland's science of fairy tales, pp. , , , , . since writing the foregoing notes the following communication has reached me from a friend of my undergraduate days at jesus college, oxford, mr. llywarch reynolds of merthyr tydfil. only the first part of it concerns the legend of llyn y fan fach; but as the rest is equally racy i make no apology for publishing it in full without any editing, except the insertion of the meaning of two or three of the welsh words occurring in it:-- 'tell rhys that i have just heard a sequel to the medygon mydfai story, got from a rustic on mynyd y banwen, between glynnêd and glyntawë, on a ramble recently with david lewis the barrister and sidney hartland the folklorist. it was to the effect that after the disappearance of the forwn, "the damsel," into the lake, the disconsolate husband and his friends set to work to drain the lake in order to get at her, if possible. they made a great cutting into the bank, when suddenly a huge hairy monster of hideous aspect emerged from the water and stormed at them for disturbing him, and wound up with this threat:-- os na cha'i lonyd yn ym lle, if i get no quiet in my place, fi foda dre' 'byrhondu! i shall drown the town of brecon! it was evidently the last braich, "arm," of a triban morgannwg, but this was all my informant knew of it. from the allusion to tre' byrhondu, it struck me that there was here probably a tale of llyn safadon, which had migrated to llyn y fan; because of course there would have to be a considerable change in the "levels" before llyn y fan and the sawde could put brecon in any great jeopardy [ ]. 'we also got another tale about a cwmshurwr, "conjurer," who once lived in ystradgyrlais (as the rustic pronounced it). the wizard was a dyn llaw-harn, "a man with an iron hand"; and it being reported that there was a great treasure hidden in mynyd y drum, the wizard said he would secure it, if he could but get some plucky fellow to spend a night with him there. john gethin was a plucky fellow (dyn "ysprydol"), and he agreed to join the dyn llaw-harn in his diablerie. the wizard traced two rings on the sward touching each other "like a number "; he went into one, and gethin into the other, the wizard strictly charging him on no account to step out of the ring. the llaw-harn then proceeded to trafod 'i lyfrau, or "busy himself with his books"; and there soon appeared a monstrous bull, bellowing dreadfully; but the plucky gethin held his ground, and the bull vanished. next came a terrible object, a "fly-wheel of fire," which made straight for poor gethin and made him swerve out of the ring. thereupon the wheel assumed the form of the diawl, "devil," who began to haul gethin away. the llaw-harn seized hold of him and tried to get him back. the devil was getting the upper hand, when the llaw-harn begged the devil to let him keep gethin while the piece of candle he had with him lasted. the devil consented, and let go his hold of gethin, whereupon the cwmshurwr immediately blew out the candle, and the devil was discomfited. gethin preserved the piece of candle very carefully, stowing it away in a cool place; but still it wasted away although it was never lighted. gethin got such a fright that he took to his bed, and as the candle wasted away he did the same, and they both came to an end simultaneously. gethin vanished--and it was not his body that was put into the coffin, but a lump of clay which was put in to save appearances! it is said that the wizard's books are in an oaken chest at waungyrlais farm house to this day. 'we got these tales on a ramble to see "maen y gwediau," on the mountain near coelbren junction station on the neath and brecon railway (marked on the ordnance map), but we had to turn back owing to the fearful heat.' before dismissing mr. reynolds' letter i may mention a story in point which relates to a lake on the brecon side of the mountains. it is given at length by the rev. edward davies in his mythology and rites of the british druids (london, ), pp. - . according to this legend a door in the rock was to be found open once a year--on may-day, as it is supposed--and from that door one could make one's way to the garden of the fairies, which was an island in the middle of the lake. this paradise of exquisite bliss was invisible, however, to those who stood outside the lake: they could only see an indistinct mass in the centre of the water. once on a time a visitor tried to carry away some of the flowers given him by the fairies, but he was thereby acting against their law, and not only was he punished with the loss of his senses, but the door has never since been left open. it is also related that once an adventurous person attempted to drain the water away 'in order to discover its contents, when a terrific form arose from the midst of the lake, commanding him to desist, or otherwise he would drown the country.' this form is clearly of the same species as that which, according to mr. reynolds' story, threatened to drown the town of brecon. subsequent inquiries have elicited more information, and i am more especially indebted to my friend mr. ivor james, who, as registrar of the university of wales, has of late years been living at brecon. he writes to the following effect:--'the lake you want is llyn cwm llwch, and the legend is very well known locally, but there are variants. once on a time men and boys dug a gully through the dam in order to let the water out. a man in a red coat, sitting in an armchair, appeared on the surface of the water and threatened them in the terms which you quote from mr. reynolds. the red coat would seem to suggest that this form of the legend dates possibly from a time since our soldiers were first clothed in red. in another case, however, the spectre was that of an old woman; and i am told that a somewhat similar story is told in connexion with a well in the castle wall in the parish of llandew, to the north of this town--giraldus cambrensis' parish. a friend of mine is employing his spare time at present in an inquiry into the origin of the lakes of this district, and he tells me that llyn cwm llwch is of glacial origin, its dam being composed, as he thinks, of glacial débris through which the water always percolates into the valley below. but storm water flows over the dam, and in the course of ages has cut for itself a gully, now about ten feet deep at the deepest point, through the embankment. the story was possibly invented to explain that fact. there is no cave to be seen in the rock, and probably there never was one, as the formation is the old red sandstone; and the island was perhaps equally imaginary.' that is the substance of mr. james' letter, in which he, moreover, refers to j. d. rhys' account of the lake in his welsh introduction to his grammar, published in london in , under the title cambrobrytannicæ cymraecæve linguæ institutiones et rudimenta. there the grammarian, in giving some account of himself, mentions his frequent sojourns at the hospitable residence of a nobleman, named m. morgan merêdydh, near y bugeildy ynn nyphryn tabhîda o bhywn swydh bhaesybhed, that is, 'near the beguildy in the valley of the teme within the county of radnor.' then he continues to the following effect:--'but the latter part of this book was thought out under the bushes and green foliage in a bit of a place of my own called y clun hîr, at the top of cwm y llwch, below the spurs of the mountain of bannwchdeni, which some call bann arthur and others moel arthur. below that moel and in its lap there is a lake of pretty large size, unknown depth, and wondrous nature. for as the stories go, no bird has ever been seen to repair to it or towards it, or to swim on it: it is wholly avoided, and some say that no animals or beasts of any kind are wont to drink of its waters. the peasantry of that country, and especially the shepherds who are wont to frequent these moels and bans, relate many other wonders concerning it and the exceeding strange things beheld at times in connexion with this loch. this lake or loch is called llyn cwm y llwch [ ].' ii. before dismissing the story of llyn y fan fach i wish to append a similar one from the parish of ystrad dyfodwg in glamorganshire. the following is a translation of a version given in welsh in cyfaill yr aelwyd a'r frythones, edited by elfed and cadrawd, and published by messrs. williams and son, llanelly. the version in question is by cadrawd, and it is to the following effect--see the volume for , p. :-- 'llyn y forwyn, "the damsel's pool," is in the parish of ystrad tyfodwg: the inhabitants call it also llyn nelferch. it lies about halfway between the farm house of rhonda fechan, "little rhonda," and the vale of safrwch. the ancient tradition concerning it is somewhat as follows:-- 'once on a time a farmer lived at the rhonda fechan: he was unmarried, and as he was walking by the lake early one morning in spring he beheld a young woman of beautiful appearance walking on the other side of it. he approached her and spoke to her: she gave him to understand that her home was in the lake, and that she owned a number of milch cows, that lived with her at the bottom of the water. the farmer fancied her so much that he fell in love with her over head and ears: he asked her on the spot for her hand and heart; and he invited her to come and spend her life with him as his wife at the rhonda fechan. she declined at first, but as he was importunate she consented at last on the following conditions, namely, that she would bring her cattle with her out of the lake, and live with him until he and she had three disputes with one another: then, she said, she and the cattle would return into the lake. he agreed to the conditions, and the marriage took place. they lived very happily and comfortably for long years; but the end was that they fell out with one another, and, when they happened to have quarrelled for the third time, she was heard early in the morning driving the cattle towards the lake with these words:-- prw dre', prw dre', prw'r gwartheg i dre'; prw milfach a malfach, pedair llualfach, alfach ac ali, pedair ladi, wynebwen drwynog, tro i'r waun lidiog, trech llyn y waun odyn, tair pencethin, tair caseg du draw yn yr eithin [ ]. and into the lake they went out of sight, and there they live to this day. and some believed that they had heard the voice and cry of nelferch in the whisper of the breeze on the top of the mountain hard by--many a time after that--as an old story (wedal) will have it.' from this it will be seen that the fairy wife's name was supposed to have been nelferch, and that the piece of water is called after her. but i find that great uncertainty prevails as to the old name of the lake, as i learn from a communication in from mr. llewellyn williams, living at porth, only some five miles from the spot, that one of his informants assured him that the name in use among former generations was llyn alfach. mr. williams made inquiries at the rhonda fechan about the lake legend. he was told that the water had long since been known as llyn y forwyn, from a morwyn, or damsel, with a number of cattle having been drowned in it. the story of the man who mentioned the name as llyn alfach was similar: the maid belonged to the farm of penrhys, he said, and the young man to the rhonda fechan, and it was in consequence of their third dispute, he added, that she left him and went back to her previous service, and afterwards, while taking the cattle to the water, she sank accidentally or purposely into the lake, so that she was never found any more. here it will be seen how modern rationalism has been modifying the story into something quite uninteresting but without wholly getting rid of the original features, such as the three disputes between the husband and wife. lastly, it is worth mentioning that this water appears to form part of a bit of very remarkable scenery, and that its waves strike on one side against a steep rock believed to contain caves, supposed to have been formerly inhabited by men and women. at present the place, i learn, is in the possession of messrs. davis and sons, owners of the ferndale collieries, who keep a pleasure boat on the lake. i have appealed to them on the question of the name nelferch or alfach, in the hope that their books would help to decide as to the old form of it. replying on their behalf, mr. j. probert evans informs me that the company only got possession of the lake and the adjacent land in , and that 'llyn y vorwyn' is the name of the former in the oldest plan which they have. inquiries have also been made in the neighbourhood by my friend, mr. reynolds, who found the old tenants of the rhonda fechan farm gone, and the neighbouring farm house of dyffryn safrwch supplanted by colliers' cottages. but he calls my attention to the fact, that perhaps the old name was neither nelferch nor alfach, as elfarch, which would fit equally well, was once the name of a petty chieftain of the adjoining hundred of senghenyd, for which he refers me to clark's glamorgan genealogies, p. . but i have to thank him more especially for a longer version of the fairy wife's call to her cattle, as given in glanffrwd's plwyf llanwyno, 'the parish of llanwynno' (pontyprid, ), p. , as follows:-- prw me, prw me, prw 'ngwartheg i dre'; prw melen a ioco, tegwen a rhudo, rhud-frech a moel-frech, pedair lliain-frech; lliain-frech ag eli, a phedair wen-ladi, ladi a chornwen, a phedair wynebwen; nepwen a rhwynog, tali lieiniog; brech yn y glyn dal yn dyn; tair lygeityn, tair gyffredm, tair caseg du, draw yn yr eithin, deuwch i gyd i lys y brenin; bwla, bwla, saif yn flaena', saf yn ol y wraig o'r ty-fry, fyth nis godri ngwartheg i! the last lines--slightly mended--may be rendered: bull, bull! stand thou foremost. back! thou wife of the house up hill: never shalt thou milk my cows. this seems to suggest that the quarrel was about another woman, and that by the time when the fairy came to call her live stock into the lake she had been replaced by another woman who came from the ty-fry, or the house up hill [ ]. in that case this version comes closer than any other to the story of undine supplanted by bertalda as her knight's favourite. mr. probert evans having kindly given me the address of an aged farmer who formerly lived in the valley, my friend, mr. llywarch reynolds, was good enough to visit him. mr. reynolds shall report the result in his own words, dated january , , as follows:-- 'i was at pentyrch this morning, and went to see mr. david evans, formerly of cefn colston. 'the old man is a very fine specimen of the better class of welsh farmer; is in his eighty-third year; hale and hearty, intelligent, and in full possession of his faculties. he was born and bred in the rhonda fechan valley, and lived there until some forty years ago. he had often heard the lake story from an old aunt of his who lived at the maerdy farm (a short distance north of the lake), and who died a good many years ago, at a very advanced age. he calls the lake "llyn elferch," and the story, as known to him, has several points in common with the llyn y fan legend, which, however, he did not appear to know. he could not give me many details, but the following is the substance of the story as he knows it:--the young farmer, who lived with his mother at the neighbouring farm, one day saw the lady on the bank of the lake, combing her hair, which reached down to her feet. he fell in love at first sight, and tried to approach her; but she evaded him, and crying out, dali di dim o fi, crâs dy fara! (thou wilt not catch me, thou of the crimped bread), she sank into the water. he saw her on several subsequent occasions, and gave chase, but always with the same result, until at length he got his mother to make him some bread which was not baked (or not baked so hard); and this he offered to the lady. she then agreed to become his wife, subject to the condition that if he offended her, or disagreed with her three times (ar yr ammod, os byssa fa yn 'i chroesi hi dair gwaith) she would leave him and return into the lake with all her belongings. ' . the first disagreement (croes) was at the funeral of a neighbour, a man in years, at which the lady gave way to excessive weeping and lamentation. the husband expressed surprise and annoyance at this excessive grief for the death of a person not related to them, and asked the reason for it; and she replied that she grieved for the defunct on account of the eternal misery that was in store for him in the other world. ' . the second "croes" was at the death of an infant child of the lady herself, at which she laughed immoderately; and in reply to the husband's remonstrance, she said she did so for joy at her child's escape from this wicked world and its passage into a world of bliss. ' . the third "croes" mr. evans was unable to call to mind, but equally with the other two it showed that the lady was possessed of preternatural knowledge; and it resulted in her leaving her husband and returning into the lake, taking the cattle, &c., with her. the accepted explanation of the name of the lake was llyn el-ferch [ ] (= hela 'r ferch), "because of the young man chasing the damsel" (hela 'r ferch). 'the following is the cattle-call, as given to me by mr. evans' aged housekeeper, who migrated with the family from rhonda fechan to pentyrch: prw i, prw e [ ], prw 'ngwartheg sha [= tua] thre'; mil a môl a melyn gwtta; milfach a malfach; petar [= pedair] llearfach; llearfach ag aeli; petar a lafi; lafi a chornwan [= -wèn]; [...] 'nepwan [= -wèn], 'nepwan drwynog; drotwan [= droedwen] litiog; tair bryncethin; tair gyffretin; tair casag du draw yn yr ithin [= eithin], dewch i gyd i lys y brenin. 'mr. evans told me that dyffryn safrwch was considered to be a corruption of dyffryn safn yr hwch, "valley of the sow's mouth"; so that the explanation was not due to a minister with whom i foregathered on my tramp near the lake the other day, and from whom i heard it first.' the similarity between mr. evans' version of this legend and that of llyn y fan fach, tends to add emphasis to certain points which i had been inclined to treat as merely accidental. in the fan fach legend the young man's mother is a widow, and here he is represented living with his mother. here also something depends on the young man's bread, but it is abruptly introduced, suggesting that a part of the story has been forgotten. both stories, however, give one the impression that the bread of the fairies was regarded as always imperfectly baked. in both stories the young man's mother comes to his help with her advice. mr. evans' version ascribes supernatural knowledge to the fairy, though his version fails to support it; and her moralizings read considerably later than those which the fan legend ascribes to the fairy wife. some of these points may be brought under the reader's notice later, when he has been familiarized with more facts illustrative of the belief in fairies. iii. on returning from south wales to carnarvonshire in the summer of , i tried to discover similar legends connected with the lakes of north wales, beginning with geirionyd, the waters of which form a stream emptying itself into the conwy, near trefriw, a little below llanrwst. i only succeeded, however, in finding an old man of the name of pierce williams, about seventy years of age, who was very anxious to talk about 'bony's' wars, but not about lake ladies. i was obliged, in trying to make him understand what i wanted, to use the word morforwyn, that is to say in english, 'mermaid'; he then told me, that in his younger days he had heard people say that somebody had seen such beings in the trefriw river. but as my questions were leading ones, his evidence is not worth much; however, i feel pretty sure that one who knew the neighbourhood of geirionyd better would be able to find some fragments of interesting legends still existing in that wild district. i was more successful at llanberis, though what i found, at first, was not much; but it was genuine, and to the point. this is the substance of it:--an old woman, called siân [ ] dafyd, lived at helfa fawr, in the dingle called cwm brwynog, along the left side of which you ascend as you go to the top of snowdon, from the village of lower llanberis, or coed y dol, as it is there called. she was a curious old person, who made nice distinctions between the virtues of the respective waters of the district: thus, no other would do for her to cure her of the defaid gwylltion [ ], or cancerous warts, which she fancied that she had in her mouth, than that of the spring of tai bach, near the lake called llyn ffynnon y gwas, though she seldom found it out, when she was deceived by a servant who cherished a convenient opinion of his own, that a drop from a nearer spring would do just as well. old siân has been dead over thirty-five years, but i have it, on the testimony of two highly trustworthy brothers, who are of her family, and now between sixty and seventy years of age, that she used to relate to them how a shepherd, once on a time, saw a fairy maiden (un o'r tylwyth teg) on the surface of the tarn called llyn du'r ardu, and how, from bantering and joking, their acquaintance ripened into courtship, when the father and mother of the lake maiden appeared to give the union their sanction, and to arrange the marriage settlement. this was to the effect that the husband was never to strike his wife with iron, and that she was to bring her great wealth with her, consisting of stock of all kinds for his mountain farm. all duly took place, and they lived happily together until one day, when trying to catch a pony, the husband threw a bridle to his wife, and the iron in that struck her. it was then all over with him, as the wife hurried away with her property into the lake, so that nothing more was seen or heard of her. here i may as well explain that the llanberis side of the steep, near the top of snowdon, is called clogwyn du'r ardu, or the black cliff of the ardu, at the bottom of which lies the tarn alluded to as the black lake of the ardu, and near it stands a huge boulder, called maen du'r ardu, all of which names are curious, as involving the word du, black. ardu itself has much the same meaning, and refers to the whole precipitous side of the summit with its dark shadows, and there is a similar ardu near nanmor on the merionethshire side of bedgelert. one of the brothers, i ought to have said, doubts that the lake here mentioned was the one in old siân's tale; but he has forgotten which it was of the many in the neighbourhood. both, however, remembered another short story about fairies, which they had heard another old woman relate, namely, mari domos siôn, who died some thirty years ago: it was merely to the effect that a shepherd had once lost his way in the mist on the mountain on the land of caeau gwynion, towards cwellyn [ ] lake, and got into a ring where the tylwyth teg were dancing: it was only after a very hard struggle that he was able, at length, to get away from them. to this i may add the testimony of a lady, for whose veracity i can vouch, to the effect that, when she was a child in cwm brwynog, from thirty to forty years ago, she and her brothers and sisters used to be frequently warned by their mother not to go far away from the house when there happened to be thick mist on the ground, lest they should come across the tylwyth teg dancing, and be carried away to their abode beneath the lake. they were always, she says, supposed to live in the lakes; and the one here alluded to was llyn dwythwch, which is one of those famous for its torgochiaid or chars. the mother is still living; but she seems to have long since, like others, lost her belief in the fairies. after writing the above, i heard that a brother to the foregoing brothers, namely, mr. thomas davies, of mur mawr, llanberis, remembered a similar tale. mr. davies is now sixty-four, and the persons from whom he heard the tale were the same siân dafyd of helfa fawr, and mari domos siôn of tyn [ ] gadlas, llanberis: the two women were about seventy years of age when he as a child heard it from them. at my request, a friend of mine, mr. hugh d. jones, of tyn gadlas, also a member of this family, which is one of the oldest perhaps in the place, has taken down from mr. davies' mouth all he could remember, word for word, as follows:-- yn perthyn i ffarm bron y fedw yr oed dyn ifanc wedi cael ei fagu, nis gwydent faint cyn eu hamser hwy. arferai pan yn hogyn fynd i'r mynyd yn cwm drywenyd a mynyd y fedw ar ochr orllewinol y wydfa i fugeilio, a bydai yn taro ar hogan yn y mynyd; ac wrth fynychu gweld eu gilyd aethant yn ffrindiau mawr. arferent gyfarfod eu gilyd mewn lle neillduol yn cwm drywenyd, lle'r oed yr hogan a'r teulu yn byw, lle y bydai pob danteithion, chwareuydiaethau a chanu dihafal; ond ni fydai'r hogyn yn gwneyd i fyny a neb ohonynt ond yr hogan. diwed y ffrindiaeth fu carwriaeth, a phan soniod yr hogyn am idi briodi, ni wnai ond ar un amod, sef y bywiai hi hefo fo hyd nes y tarawai ef hi a haiarn. priodwyd hwy, a buont byw gyda'u gilyd am nifer o flynydoed, a bu idynt blant; ac ar dyd marchnad yn gaernarfon yr oed y gwr a'r wraig yn medwl mynd i'r farchnad ar gefn merlod, fel pob ffarmwr yr amser hwnnw. awd i'r mynyd i dal merlyn bob un. ar waelod mynyd y fedw mae llyn o ryw dri-ugain neu gan llath o hyd ac ugain neu deg llath ar hugain o led, ac y mae ar un ochr ido le têg, fford y bydai'r ceffylau yn rhedeg. daliod y gwr ferlyn a rhoes ef i'r wraig i'w dal heb ffrwyn, tra bydai ef yn dal merlyn arall. ar ol rhoi ffrwyn yn mhen ei ferlyn ei hun, taflod un arall i'r wraig i roi yn mhen ei merlyn hithau, ac wrth ei thaflu tarawod bit y ffrwyn hi yn ei llaw. gollyngod y wraig y merlyn, ac aeth ar ei phen i'r llyn, a dyna diwed y briodas. 'to the farm of bron y fedw there belonged a son, who grew up to be a young man, the women knew not how long before their time. he was in the habit of going up the mountain to cwm drywenyd [ ] and mynyd y fedw, on the west side of snowdon, to do the shepherding, and there he was wont to come across a lass on the mountain, so that as the result of frequently meeting one another, he and she became great friends. they usually met at a particular spot in cwm drywenyd, where the girl and her family lived, and where there were all kinds of nice things to eat, of amusements, and of incomparable music; but he did not make up to anybody there except the girl. the friendship ended in courtship; but when the boy mentioned that she should be married to him, she would only do so on one condition, namely, that she would live with him until he should strike her with iron. they were wedded, and they lived together for a number of years, and had children. once on a time it happened to be market day at carnarvon, whither the husband and wife thought of riding on ponies, like all the farmers of that time. so they went to the mountain to catch a pony each. at the bottom of mynyd y fedw there is a pool some sixty or one hundred yards long by twenty or thirty broad, and on one side of it there is a level space along which the horses used to run. the husband caught a pony, and gave it to the wife to hold fast without a bridle, while he should catch another. when he had bridled his own pony, he threw another bridle to his wife for her to secure hers; but as he threw it, the bit of the bridle struck her on one of her hands. the wife let go the pony, and went headlong into the pool, and that was the end of their wedded life.' the following is a later tale, which mr. thomas davies heard from his mother, who died in : she would be ninety years of age had she been still living:-- pan oed hi'n hogan yn yr hafod, llanberis, yr oed hogan at ei hoed hi'n cael ei magu yn cwmglas, llanberis, ac arferai dweyd, pan yn hogan a thra y bu byw, y bydai yn cael arian gan y tylwyth teg yn cwm cwmglas. yr oed yn dweyd y bydai ar foreuau niwliog, tywyll, yn mynd i le penodol yn cwm cwmglas gyda dsygiad o lefrith o'r fuches a thywel glan, ac yn ei rodi ar garreg; ac yn mynd yno drachefn, ac yn cael y llestr yn wag, gyda darn deuswllt neu hanner coron ac weithiau fwy wrth ei ochr. 'when she was a girl, living at yr hafod, llanberis, there was a girl of her age being brought up at cwmglas in the same parish. the latter was in the habit of saying, when she was a girl and so long as she lived, that she used to have money from the tylwyth teg, in the cwmglas hollow. her account was, that on dark, misty mornings she used to go to a particular spot in that hollow with a jugful of sweet milk from the milking place, and a clean towel, and then place them on a stone. she would return, and find the jug empty, with a piece of money placed by its side: that is, two shillings or half a crown, or at times even more.' a daughter of that woman lives now at a farm, mr. davies observes, called plas pennant, in the parish of llanfihangel yn mhennant, in carnarvonshire; and he adds, that it was a tale of a kind that was common enough when he was a boy; but many laughed at it, though the old people believed it to be a fact. to this i may as well append another tale, which was brought to the memory of an old man who happened to be present when mr. jones and mr. davies were busy with the foregoing. his name is john roberts, and his age is seventy-five: his present home is at capel sïon, in the neighbouring parish of llandeiniolen:-- yr oed ef pan yn hogyn yn gweini yn towyn trewern, yn agos i gaergybi, gyda hen wr o'r enw owen owens, oed yr adeg honno at ei oed ef yn bresennol. yr oedynt unwaith mewn hen adeilad ar y ffarm; a dywedod yr hen wr ei fod ef wedi cael llawer o arian yn y lle hwnnw pan yn hogyn, a buasai wedi cael ychwaneg oni bai ei dad. yr oed wedi cudio yr arian yn y ty, ond daeth ei fam o hyd idynt, a dywedod yr hanes wrth ei dad. ofnai ei fod yn fachgen drwg, mai eu lladrata yr oed. dywedai ei dad y gwnai ido dweyd yn mha le yr oed yn eu cael, neu y tynnai ei groen tros ei ben; ac aeth allan a thorod wialen bwrpasol at orchwyl o'r fath. yr oed y bachgen yn gwrando ar yr ymdidan rhwng ei dad a'i fam, ac yr oed yn benderfynol o gadw'r peth yn dirgelwch fel yr oed wedi ei rybudio gan y tylwyth teg. aeth i'r ty, a dechreuod y tad ei holi, ac yntau yn gwrthod ateb; ymbiliai a'i dad, a dywedai eu bod yn berffaith onest ido ef, ac y cai ef ychwaneg os cadwai'r peth yn dirgelwch; ond os dywedai, nad oed dim ychwaneg i'w gael. mod bynnag ni wrandawai y tad ar ei esgusion na'i resymau, a'r wialen a orfu; dywedod y bachgen mai gan y tylwyth teg yr oed yn eu cael, a hynny ar yr amod nad oed i dweyd wrth neb. mawr oed edifeirwch yr hen bobl am lad yr wyd oed yn dodwy. aeth y bachgen i'r hen adeilad lawer gwaith ar ol hyn, ond ni chafod byth ychwaneg o arian yno. 'when a lad, he was a servant at towyn trewern, near holyhead, to an old man about his own age at present. they were one day in an old building on the farm, and the old man told him that he had had much money in that place when he was a lad, and that he would have had more had it not been for his father. he had hidden the money at home, where his mother found it and told his father of the affair: she feared he was a bad boy, and that it was by theft he got it. his father said that he would make him say where he got it, or else that he would strip him of the skin of his back, at the same time that he went out and cut a rod fit for effecting a purpose of the kind. the boy heard all this talk between his father and his mother, and felt determined to keep the matter a secret, as he had been warned by the tylwyth teg. he went into the house, and his father began to question him, while he refused to answer. he supplicatingly protested that the money was honestly got, and that he should get more if he kept it a secret, but that, if he did not, there would be no more to be got. however, the father would give no ear to his excuses or his reasons, and the rod prevailed; so that the boy said that it was from the tylwyth teg he used to get it, and that on condition of his not telling anybody. greatly did the old folks regret having killed the goose that laid the eggs. the boy went many a time afterwards to the old building, but he never found any more money there.' iv. through the rev. daniel lewis, incumbent of bettws garmon, i was directed to mr. samuel rhys williams, of the post office of that place, who has kindly given me the result of his inquiries when writing on the subject of the antiquities of the neighbourhood for a competition at a literary meeting held there a few years ago. he tells me that he got the following short tale from a native of drws y coed, whose name is margaret williams. she has been living at bettws garmon for many years, and is now over eighty. he does not know whether the story is in print or not, but he is certain that margaret williams never saw it, even if it be. he further thinks he has heard it from another person, to wit a man over seventy-seven years of age, who has always lived at drws y coed, in the parish of bedgelert:-- y mae hanes am fab i amaethwr a breswyliai yn yr ystrad [ ], betws garmon [ ], pan yn dychwelyd adref o daith yn hwyr un noswaith, darfod ido weled cwmni o'r tylwyth teg ynghanol eu hafiaeth a'u glodest. syfrdanwyd y llanc yn y fan gan degwch anghymarol un o'r rhianod hyn, fel y beidiod neidio i ganol y cylch, a chymeryd ei eilun gydag ef. wedi idi fod yn trigo gydag ef yn ei gartref am ysbaid, cafod gandi adaw bod yn wraig ido ar amodau neillduol. un o'r amodau hyn ydoed, na bydai ido gyffwrd yndi ag un math o haiarn. bu yn wraig ido, a ganwyd idynt dau o blant. un diwrnod yr oed y gwr yn y maes yn ceisio dal y ceffyl; wrth ei weled yn ffaelu, aeth y wraig ato i'w gynorthwyo, a phan oed y march yn carlamu heibio gollyngod yntau y ffrwyn o'i law, er mwyn ceisio ei atal heibio; a phwy a darawod ond ei wraig, yr hon a diflannod yn y fan allan o'i olwg? 'the story goes, that the son of a farmer, who lived at the ystrad in bettws garmon, when returning home from a journey, late in the evening, beheld a company of fairies in the middle of their mirth and jollity. the youth was at once bewildered by the incomparable beauty of one of these ladies, so that he ventured to leap into the circle and take his idol away with him. after she had tarried awhile with him at his home, he prevailed on her, on special conditions, to become his wife. one of these conditions was that he should not touch her with iron of any description. she became his wife, and two children were born to them. one day the husband was in the field trying to catch the horse; seeing him unsuccessful, the wife went to him to help him, and, when the horse was galloping past him, he let go the bridle at him in order to prevent him from passing; but whom should he strike but his wife, who vanished out of his sight on the spot.' just as i was engaged in collecting these stories in , a correspondent sent me a copy of the ystrad tale as published by the late bard and antiquary, the rev. owen wyn jones, better known in wales by his bardic name of glasynys [ ], in the brython [ ] for , p. . i will not attempt to translate glasynys' poetic prose with all its compound adjectives, but it comes to this in a few words. one fine sunny morning, as the young heir of ystrad was busied with his sheep on the side of moel eilio, he met a very pretty girl, and when he got home he told the folks there of it. a few days afterwards he met her again, and this happened several times, when he mentioned it to his father, who advised him to seize her when he next met her. the next time he met her he proceeded to do so, but before he could take her away, a little fat old man came to them and begged him to give her back to him, to which the youth would not listen. the little man uttered terrible threats, but the heir of ystrad would not yield, so an agreement was made between them, that the latter was to have the girl to wife until he touched her skin with iron, and great was the joy both of the son and his parents in consequence. they lived together for many years; but once on a time, on the evening of the bettws fair, the wife's horse became restive, and somehow, as the husband was attending to the horse, the stirrup touched the skin of her bare leg, and that very night she was taken away from him. she had three or four children, and more than one of their descendants, as glasynys maintains, were known to him at the time he wrote in . glasynys regards this as the same tale which is given by williams of llandegai, to whom we shall refer later; and he says that he heard it scores of times when he was a lad. lastly, i happened to mention these legends last summer among others to the rev. owen davies, curate of llanberis, a man who is well versed in welsh literature, and thoroughly in sympathy with everything welsh. mr. davies told me that he knew a tale of the sort from his youth, as current in the parishes of llanllechid and llandegai, near bangor. not long afterwards he visited his mother at his native place, in llanllechid, in order to have his memory of it refreshed; and he also went to the waen fawr, on the other side of carnarvon, where he had the same legend told him with the different localities specified. the following is the waen fawr version, of which i give the welsh as i have had it from mr. davies, and as it was related, according to him, some forty years ago in the valley of nant y bettws, near carnarvon:-- ar brydnawngwaith hyfryd yn hefin, aeth llanc ieuanc gwrol-dewr ac anturiaethus, sef etifed a pherchennog yr ystrad, i lan afon gwyrfai, heb fod yn nepell o'i chychwyniad o lyn cawellyn, ac a ymgudiod yno mewn dyryslwyn, sef ger y fan y bydai poblach y cotiau cochion--y tylwyth teg--yn arfer dawnsio. yr ydoed yn noswaith hyfryd loergannog, heb un cwmwl i gau llygaid y lloer, ac anian yn distaw dawedog, odigerth murmuriad lledf y wyrfai, a swn yr awel ysgafndroed yn rhodio brigau deiliog y coed. ni bu yn ei ymgudfa ond dros ychydig amser, cyn cael difyrru o hono ei olygon a dawns y teulu dedwyd. wrth syllu ar gywreinrwyd y dawns, y chwim droadau cyflym, yr ymgyniweiriad ysgafn-droediog, tarawod ei lygaid ar las lodes ieuanc, dlysaf, hardaf, lunieidiaf a welod er ei febyd. yr oed ei chwim droadau a lledneisrwyd ei hagwedion wedi tanio ei serch tu ag ati i'r fath radau, fel ag yr oed yn barod i unrhyw anturiaeth er mwyn ei hennill yn gydymaith ido ei hun. o'i ymgudfa dywyll, yr oed yn gwylio pob ysgogiad er mwyn ei gyfleustra ei hun. mewn mynud, yn disymwth digon, rhwng pryder ac ofn, llamneidiod fel llew gwrol i ganol cylch y tylwyth teg, ac ymafaelod a dwylaw cariad yn y fun luniaid a daniod ei serch, a hynny, pan oed y tylwyth dedwyd yn nghanol nwyfiant eu dawns. cofleidiod hi yn dyner garedig yn ei fynwes wresog, ac aeth a hi i'w gartref--i'r ystrad. ond diflannod ei chyd-dawnsydion fel anadl gorphennaf, er ei chroch dolefau am gael ei rhydhau, a'i hymegnion diflino i dianc o afael yr hwn a'i hoffod. mewn anwylder mawr, ymdygod y llanc yn dyner odiaethol tu ag at y fun deg, ac yr oed yn orawydus i'w chadw yn ei olwg ac yn ei fediant. llwydod drwy ei dynerwch tu ag ati i gael gandi adaw dyfod yn forwyn ido yn yr ystrad. a morwyn ragorol oed hi. godrai deirgwaith y swm arferol o laeth odiar bob buwch, ac yr oed yr ymenyn heb bwys arno. ond er ei holl daerni, nis gallai mewn un mod gael gandi dyweud ei henw wrtho. gwnaeth lawer cais, ond yn gwbl ofer. yn damweiniol ryw dro, wrth yrru brithen a'r benwen i'r borfa, a hi yn noswaith loergan, efe a aeth i'r man lle yr arferai y tylwyth teg fyned drwy eu campau yng ngoleuni'r lloer wen. y tro hwn eto, efe a ymgudiod mewn dyryslwyn, a chlywod y tylwyth teg yn dywedyd y naill wrth y llall--'pan oedym ni yn y lle hwn y tro diwedaf, dygwyd ein chwaer penelope odiarnom gan un o'r marwolion.' ar hynny, dychwelod y llencyn adref, a'i fynwes yn llawn o falchder cariad, o herwyd ido gael gwybod enw ei hoff forwyn, yr hon a synnod yn aruthr, pan glywod ei meistr ieuanc yn ei galw wrth ei henw. ac am ei bod yn odiaethol dlos, a lluniaid, yn fywiog-weithgar, a medrus ar bob gwaith, a bod popeth yn llwydo dan ei llaw, cynygiod ei hun idi yn wr--y celai fod yn feistres yr ystrad, yn lle bod yn forwyn. ond ni chydsyniai hi a'i gais ar un cyfrif; ond bod braid yn bendrist oherwyd ido wybod ei henw. fod bynnag, gwedi maith amser, a thrwy ei daerineb diflino, cydsyniod, ond yn amodol. adawod dyfod yn wraig ido, ar yr amod canlynol, sef, 'pa bryd bynnag y tarawai ef hi â haiarn, yr elai ymaith odi wrtho, ac na dychwelai byth ato mwy.' sicrhawyd yr amod o'i du yntau gyda pharodrwyd cariad. buont yn cyd-fyw a'u gilyd yn hapus a chysurus lawer o flynydoed, a ganwyd idynt fab a merch, y rhai oedynt dlysaf a llunieidiaf yn yr holl froyd. ac yn rhinwed ei medrusrwyd a'i deheurwyd fel gwraig gall, rinwedol, aethant yn gyfoethog iawn--yn gyfoethocach na neb yn yr holl wlad. heblaw ei etifediaeth ei hun--yr ystrad, yr oed yn ffarmio holl ogled-barth nant y betws, ac odi yno i ben yr wydfa, ynghyd a holl gwm brwynog, yn mhlwyf llanberis. ond, ryw diwrnod, yn anffortunus digon aeth y dau i'r dol i dal y ceffyl, a chan fod y ceffylyn braid yn wyllt ac an-nof, yn rhedeg odi arnynt, taflod y gwr y ffrwyn mewn gwylltineb yn ei erbyn, er ei atal, ac ar bwy y disgynnod y ffrwyn, ond ar penelope, y wraig! diflannod penelope yn y fan, ac ni welod byth mo honi. ond ryw noswaith, a'r gwynt yn chwythu yn oer o'r gogled, daeth penelope at ffenestr ei ystafell wely, a dywedod wrtho am gymmeryd gofal o'r plant yn y geiriau hyn: rhag bod anwyd ar fy mab, yn rhod rhowch arno gób ei dad; rhag bod anwyd ar liw'r can, rhodwch arni bais ei mham. ac yna ciliod, ac ni chlywyd na siw na miw byth yn ei chylch. for the sake of an occasional reader who does not know welsh, i add a summary of it in english. one fine evening in the month of june a brave, adventurous youth, the heir of ystrad, went to the banks of the gwyrfai, not far from where it leaves cwellyn lake, and hid himself in the bushes near the spot where the folks of the red coats--the fairies--were wont to dance. the moon shone forth brightly without a cloud to intercept her light; all was quiet save where the gwyrfai gently murmured on her bed, and it was not long before the young man had the satisfaction of seeing the fair family dancing in full swing. as he gazed on the subtle course of the dance, his eyes rested on a damsel, the most shapely and beautiful he had seen from his boyhood. her agile movements and the charm of her looks inflamed him with love for her, to such a degree that he felt ready for any encounter in order to secure her to be his own. from his hiding place he watched every move for his opportunity; at last, with feelings of anxiety and dread, he leaped suddenly into the middle of the circle of the fairies. there, while their enjoyment of the dance was at its height, he seized her in his arms and carried her away to his home at ystrad. but, as she screamed for help to free her from the grasp of him who had fallen in love with her, the dancing party disappeared like one's breath in july. he treated her with the utmost kindness, and was ever anxious to keep her within his sight and in his possession. by dint of tenderness he succeeded so far as to get her to consent to be his servant at ystrad. and such a servant she turned out to be! why, she was wont to milk the cows thrice a day, and to have the usual quantity of milk each time, so that the butter was so plentiful that nobody thought of weighing it. as to her name, in spite of all his endeavours to ascertain it, she would never tell it him. accidentally, however, one moonlight night, when driving two of his cows to the spot where they should graze, he came to the place where the fairies were wont to enjoy their games in the light of the moon. this time also he hid himself in a thicket, when he overheard one fairy saying to another, 'when we were last here our sister penelope was stolen from us by a man.' as soon as he heard this off he went home, full of joy because he had discovered the name of the maid that was so dear to him. she, on the other hand, was greatly astonished to hear him call her by her own name. as she was so charmingly pretty, so industrious, so skilled in every work, and so attended by luck in everything she put her hand to, he offered to make her his wife instead of being his servant. at first she would in no wise consent, but she rather gave way to grief at his having found her name out. however, his importunity at length brought her to consent, but on the condition that he should not strike her with iron; if that should happen, she would quit him never to return. the agreement was made on his side with the readiness of love, and after this they lived in happiness and comfort together for many years, and there were born to them a son and a daughter, who were the handsomest children in the whole country. owing, also, to the skill and good qualities of the woman, as a shrewd and virtuous wife, they became very rich--richer, indeed, than anybody else in the country around; for, besides the husband's own inheritance of ystrad, he held all the northern part of nant y bettws, and all from there to the top of snowdon, together with cwm brwynog in the parish of llanberis. but one day, as bad luck would have it, they went out together to catch a horse in the field, and, as the animal was somewhat wild and untamed, they had no easy work before them. in his rashness the man threw a bridle at him as he was rushing past him, but alas! on whom should the bridle fall but on the wife! no sooner had this happened than she disappeared, and nothing more was ever seen of her. but one cold night, when there was a chilling wind blowing from the north, she came near the window of his bedroom, and told him in these words to take care of the children:-- lest my son should find it cold, place on him his father's coat: lest the fair one find it cold, place on her my petticoat. then she withdrew, and nothing more was heard of her. in reply to some queries of mine, mr. o. davies tells me that penelope was pronounced in three syllables, pénelôp--so he heard it from his grandfather: he goes on to say that the offspring of the lake lady is supposed to be represented by a family called pellings, which was once a highly respected name in those parts, and that there was a lady bulkeley who was of this descent, not to mention that several people of a lower rank, both in anglesey and arfon, claimed to be of the same origin. i am not very clear as to how the name got into this tale, nor have i been able to learn anything about the pellings; but, as the word appears to have been regarded as a corrupt derivative from penelope, that is, perhaps, all the connexion, so that it may be that it has really nothing whatever to do with the legend. this is a point, however, which the antiquaries of north wales ought to be able to clear up satisfactorily. in reply to queries of mine, mr. o. davies gave me the following particulars:--'i am now (june, ) over fifty-two years of age, and i can assure you that i have heard the legend forty years ago. i do not remember my father, as he died when i was young, but my grandfather was remarkable for his delight in tales and legends, and it was his favourite pastime during the winter nights, after getting his short black pipe ready, to relate stories about struggles with robbers, about bogies, and above all about the tylwyth teg; for they were his chief delight. he has been dead twenty-six years, and he had almost reached eighty years of age. his father before him, who was born about the year , was also famous for his stories, and my grandfather often mentioned him as his authority in the course of his narration of the tales. both he and the rest of the family used to look at corwrion, to be mentioned presently, as a sacred spot. when i was a lad and happened to be reluctant to leave off playing at dusk, my mother or grandfather had only to say that 'the pellings were coming,' in order to induce me to come into the house at once: indeed, this announcement had the same effect on persons of a much riper age than mine then was.' further, mr. davies kindly called my attention to a volume, entitled observations on the snowdon mountains, by mr. william williams, of llandegai, published in london in . in that work this tale is given somewhat less fully than by mr. davies' informant, but the author makes the following remarks with regard to it, pp. , :--'a race of people inhabiting the districts about the foot of snowdon, were formerly distinguished and known by the nickname of pellings, which is not yet extinct. there are several persons and even families who are reputed to be descended from these people.... these children [penelope's] and their descendants, they say, were called pellings, a word corrupted from their mother's name, penelope. the late thomas rowlands, esq., of caerau, in anglesey, the father of the late lady bulkeley, was a descendant of this lady, if it be true that the name pellings came from her; and there are still living several opulent and respectable people who are known to have sprung from the pellings. the best blood in my own veins is this fairy's.' lastly, it will be noticed that these last versions do not distinctly suggest that the lake lady ran into the lake, that is into cwellyn, but rather that she disappeared in the same way as the dancing party by simply becoming invisible like one's breath in july. the fairies are called in welsh, y tylwyth teg, or the fair family; but the people of arfon have been so familiarized with the particular one i have called the lake lady, that, according to one of my informants, they have invented the term y dylwythes deg, or even y dylwythen deg, to denote her; but it is unknown to the others, so that the extent of its use is not very considerable. this is, perhaps, the place to give another tale, according to which the man goes to the lake maiden's country, instead of her settling with him at his home. i owe it to the kindness of mr. william jones, of regent place, llangollen, a native of bedgelert. he heard it from an old man before he left bedgelert, but when he sent a friend to inquire some time afterwards, the old man was gone. according to mr. jones, the details of the tale are, for that reason, imperfect, as some of the incidents have faded from his memory; but such as he can still remember the tale, it is here given in his own words:-- ryw noson lawn lloer ac un o feibion llwyn on yn nant y betws yn myned i garu i glogwyn y gwin, efe a welod y tylwyth yn ymlodestu a dawnsio ei hochr hi ar weirglod wrth lan llyn cawellyn. efe a nesaod tuag atynt; ac o dipyn i beth fe'i llithiwyd gan bereiddra swynol eu canu a hoender a bywiogrwyd eu chwareu, nes myned o hono tu fewn i'r cylch; ac yn fuan fe daeth rhyw hud drosto, fel y collod adnabydiaeth o bobman; a chafod ei hun mewn gwlad hardaf a welod erioed, lle'r oed pawb yn treulio eu hamser mewn afiaeth a gorfoled. yr oed wedi bod yno am saith mlyned, ac eto nid oed dim ond megis breudwyd nos; ond daeth adgof i'w fedwl am ei neges, a hiraeth yndo am weled ei anwylyd. felly efe a ofynod ganiatad i dychwelyd adref, yr hyn a rodwyd ynghyd a llu o gymdeithion i'w arwain tua'i wlad; ac yn disymwth cafod ei hun fel yn deffro o freudwyd ar y dol, lle gwelod y tylwyth teg yn chwareu. trod ei wyneb tuag adref; ond wedi myned yno yr oed popeth wedi newid, ei rieni wedi meirw, ei frodyr yn ffaelu ei adnabod, a'i gariad wedi priodi un arall.--ar ol y fath gyfnewidiadau efe a dorod ei galon, ac a fu farw mewn llai nag wythnos ar ol ei dychweliad. 'one bright moonlight night, as one of the sons of the farmer who lived at llwyn on in nant y bettws was going to pay his addresses to a girl at clogwyn y gwin, he beheld the tylwyth teg enjoying themselves in full swing on a meadow close to cwellyn lake. he approached them, and little by little he was led on by the enchanting sweetness of their music and the liveliness of their playing until he had got within their circle. soon some kind of spell passed over him, so that he lost his knowledge of the place, and found himself in a country, the most beautiful he had ever seen, where everybody spent his time in mirth and rejoicing. he had been there seven years, and yet it seemed to him but a night's dream; but a faint recollection came to his mind of the business on which he had left home, and he felt a longing to see his beloved one. so he went and asked for permission to return home, which was granted him, together with a host of attendants to lead him to his country; and, suddenly, he found himself, as if waking from a dream, on the bank where he had seen the fair family amusing themselves. he turned towards home, but there he found everything changed: his parents were dead, his brothers could not recognize him, and his sweetheart was married to another man. in consequence of such changes he died broken-hearted in less than a week after coming back.' v. the rev. o. davies regarded the llanllechid legend as so very like the one he got about cwellyn lake and the waen fawr, that he has not written the former out at length, but merely pointed out the following differences: ( ) instead of cwellyn, the lake in the former is the pool of corwrion, in the parish of llandegai, near bangor. ( ) what the lake lady was struck with was not a bridle, but an iron fetter: the word used is llyfether, which probably means a long fetter connecting a fore-foot and a hind-foot of a horse together. in arfon, the word is applied also to a cord tying the two fore-feet together, but in cardiganshire this would be called a hual, the other word, there pronounced llowethir, being confined to the long fetter. in books, the word is written llywethair, llefethair and llyffethair or llyffethar, which is possibly the pronunciation in parts of north wales, especially arfon. this is an interesting word, as it is no other than the english term 'long fetter,' borrowed into welsh; as, in fact, it was also into irish early enough to call for an article on it in cormac's irish glossary, where langfiter is described as an english word for a fetter between the fore and the hind legs: in anglo-manx it is become lanketer. ( ) the field in which they were trying to catch the horse is, in the llanllechid version, specified as that called maes madog, at the foot of the llefn. ( ) when the fairy wife ran away, it was headlong into the pool of corwrion, calling after her all her milch cows, and they followed her with the utmost readiness. before going on to mention bits of information i have received from others about the llanllechid legend, i think it best here to finish with the items given me by mr. o. davies, whom i cannot too cordially thank for his readiness to answer my questions. among other things, he expresses himself to the following effect:-- 'it is to this day a tradition--and i have heard it a hundred times--that the dairy of corwrion excelled all other dairies in those parts, that the milk was better and more plentiful, and that the cheese and butter were better there than in all the country round, the reason assigned being that the cattle on the farm of corwrion had mixed with the breed belonging to the fairy, who had run away after being struck with the iron fetter. however that may be, i remember perfectly well the high terms of praise in which the cows of corwrion used to be spoken of as being remarkable for their milk and the profit they yielded; and, when i was a boy, i used to hear people talk of tarw penwyn corwrion, or "the white-headed bull of corwrion," as derived from the breed of cattle which had formed the fairy maiden's dowry.' my next informant is mr. hugh derfel hughes, of pendinas, llandegai [ ], who has been kind enough to give me the version, of which i here give the substance in english, premising that mr. hughes says that he has lived about thirty-four years within a mile of the pool and farm house called corwrion, and that he has refreshed his memory of the legend by questioning separately no less than three old people, who had been bred and born at or near that spot. he is a native of merioneth, but has lived at llandegai for the last thirty-seven years, his age now being sixty-six. i may add that mr. hughes is a local antiquary of great industry and zeal; and that he published a book on the antiquities of the district, under the title of hynafiaethau llandegai a llanllechid, that is 'the antiquities of llandegai and llanllechid' (bethesda, ); but it is out of print, and i have had some trouble to procure a copy:-- 'in old times, when the fairies showed themselves much oftener to men than they do now, they made their home in the bottomless pool of corwrion, in upper arllechwed, in that wild portion of gwyned called arfon. on fine mornings in the month of june these diminutive and nimble folk might be seen in a regular line vigorously engaged in mowing hay, with their cattle in herds busily grazing in the fields near corwrion. this was a sight which often met the eyes of the people on the sides of the hills around, even on sundays; but when they hurried down to them they found the fields empty, with the sham workmen and their cows gone, all gone. at other times they might be heard hammering away like miners, shovelling rubbish aside, or emptying their carts of stones. at times they took to singing all the night long, greatly to the delight of the people about, who dearly loved to hear them; and, besides singing so charmingly, they sometimes formed into companies for dancing, and their movements were marvellously graceful and attractive. but it was not safe to go too near the lake late at night, for once a brave girl, who was troubled with toothache, got up at midnight and went to the brink of the water in search of the root of a plant that grows there full of the power to kill all pain in the teeth. but, as she was plucking up a bit of it, there burst on her ear, from the depths of the lake, such a shriek as drove her back into the house breathless with fear and trembling; but whether this was not the doing of a stray fairy, who had been frightened out of her wits at being suddenly overtaken by a damsel in her nightdress, or the ordinary fairy way of curing the toothache, tradition does not tell. for sometimes, at any rate, the fairies busied themselves in doing good to the men and women who were their neighbours, as when they tried to teach them to keep all promises and covenants to which they pledged themselves. a certain man and his wife, to whom they wished to teach this good habit, have never been forgotten. the husband had been behaving as he ought, until one day, as he held the plough, with the wife guiding his team, he broke his covenant towards her by treating her harshly and unkindly. no sooner had he done so, than he was snatched through the air and plunged in the lake. when the wife went to the brink of the water to ask for him back, the reply she had was, that he was there, and that there he should be. 'the fairies when engaged in dancing allowed themselves to be gazed at, a sight which was wont greatly to attract the young men of the neighbourhood, and once on a time the son and heir of the owner of corwrion fell deeply in love with one of the graceful maidens who danced in the fairy ring, for she was wondrously beautiful and pretty beyond compare. his passion for her ere long resulted in courtship, and soon in their being married, which took place on the express understanding, that firstly the husband was not to know her name, though he might give her any name he chose; and, secondly, that he might now and then beat her with a rod, if she chanced to misbehave towards him; but he was not to strike her with iron on pain of her leaving him at once. this covenant was kept for some years, so that they lived happily together and had four children, of whom the two youngest were a boy and a girl. but one day as they went to one of the fields of bryn twrw in the direction of pennard gron, to catch a pony, the fairy wife, being so much nimbler than her husband, ran before him and had her hand in the pony's mane in no time. she called out to her husband to throw her a halter, but instead of that he threw towards her a bridle with an iron bit, which, as bad luck would have it, struck her. the wife at once flew through the air, and plunged headlong into corwrion pool. the husband returned sighing and weeping towards bryn twrw, "noise hill," and when he had reached it, the twrw, "noise," there was greater than had ever been heard before, namely that of weeping after "belenë"; and it was then, after he had struck her with iron, that he first learnt what his wife's name was. belenë never came back to her husband, but the feelings of a mother once brought her to the window of his bedroom, where she gave him the following order:-- os byd anwyd ar fy mab, if my son should feel it cold, rho'wch am dano gob ei dad; let him wear his father's coat; os anwydog a fyd can [ ], if the fair one feel the cold, rho'wch am dani bais ei mam. let her wear my petticoat. 'as years and years rolled on a grandson of belenë's fell in love with a beautiful damsel who lived at a neighbouring farm house called tai teulwriaid, and against the will of his father and mother they married, but they had nothing to stock their land with. so one morning what was their astonishment, when they got up, to see grazing quietly in the field six black cows and a white-headed bull, which had come up out of the lake as stock for them from old grannie belenë? they served them well with milk and butter for many a long year, but on the day the last of the family died, the six black cows and the white-headed bull disappeared into the lake, never more to be seen.' mr. hughes referred to no less than three other versions, as follows:--( ) according to one account, the husband was ploughing, with the wife leading the team, when by chance he came across her and the accident happened. the wife then flew away like a wood-hen (iar goed) into the lake. ( ) another says that they were in a stable trying to bridle one of the horses, when the misfortune took place through inadvertence. ( ) a third specifies the field in front of the house at corwrion as the place where the final accident took place, when they were busied with the cows and horses. to these i would add the following traditions, which mr. hughes further gives. sometimes the inhabitants, who seem to have been on the whole on good terms with the fairies, used to heat water and leave it in a vessel on the hearth overnight for the fairies to wash their children in it. this they considered such a kindness that they always left behind them on the hearth a handful of their money. some pieces are said to have been sometimes found in the fields near corwrion, and that they consisted of coins which were smaller than our halfpennies, but bigger than farthings, and had a harp on one side. but the tradition is not very definite on these points. here also i may as well refer to a similar tale which i got last year at llanberis from a man who is a native of the llanllechid side of the mountain, though he now lives at llanberis. he is about fifty-five years of age, and remembers hearing in his youth a tale connected with a house called hafoty'r famaeth, in a very lonely situation on llanllechid mountain, and now represented only by some old ruined walls. it was to the effect that one night, when the man who lived there was away from home, his wife, who had a youngish baby, washed him on the hearth, left the water there, and went to bed with her little one: she woke up in the night to find that the tylwyth teg were in possession of the hearth, and busily engaged in washing their children. that is all i got of this tale of a well-known type. to return to mr. hughes' communications, i would select from them some remarks on the topography of the teeming home of the fairies. he estimated the lake or pool of corwrion to be about yards long, and adds that it is nearly round; but he thinks it was formerly considerably larger, as a cutting was made some eighty or a hundred years ago to lead water from it to penrhyn castle; but even then its size would not approach that ascribed to it by popular belief, according to which it was no less than three miles long. in fact it was believed that there was once a town of corwrion which was swallowed up by the lake, a sort of idea which one meets with in many parts of wales, and some of the natives are said to be able to discern the houses under the water. this must have been near the end which is not bottomless, the latter being indicated by a spot which is said never to freeze even in hard winters. old men remember it the resort of herons, cormorants, and the water-hen (hobi wen). near the banks there grew, besides the water-lily, various kinds of rushes and sedges, which were formerly much used for making mats and other useful articles. it was also once famous for eels of a large size, but it is not supposed to have contained fish until lord penrhyn placed some there in recent years. it teemed, however, with leeches of three different kinds so recently that an old man still living describes to mr. hughes his simple way of catching them when he was a boy, namely, by walking bare-legged in the water: in a few minutes he landed with nine or ten leeches sticking to his legs, some of which fetched a shilling each from the medical men of those days. corwrion is now a farm house occupied by mr. william griffiths, a grandson of the late bard gutyn peris. when mr. hughes called to make inquiries about the legend, he found there the foundations of several old buildings, and several pieces of old querns about the place. he thinks that there belonged to corwrion in former times, a mill and a fuller's house, which he seems to infer from the names of two neighbouring houses called 'y felin hen,' the old mill, and 'pandy tre garth,' the fulling mill of tregarth, respectively. he also alludes to a gefail or smithy there, in which one rhys ab robert used to work, not to mention that a great quantity of ashes, such as come from a smithy, are found at the end of the lake furthest from the farm house. the spot on which corwrion stands is part of the ground between the ogwen and another stream which bears the name of 'afon cegin arthur,' or the river of arthur's kitchen, and most of the houses and fields about have names which have suggested various notions to the people there: such are the farms called 'coed howel,' whence the belief in the neighbourhood that howel da, king of wales, lived here. about him mr. hughes has a great deal to say: among other things, that he had boats on corwrion lake, and that he was wont to present the citizens of bangor yearly with fat geese reared on the waters of the same. i am referred by another man to a lecture delivered in the neighbourhood on these and similar things by the late bard and antiquary the rev. robert ellis (cyndelw), but i have never come across a copy. a field near corwrion is called 'cae stabal,' or the field of the stable, which contains the remains of a row of stables, as it is supposed, and of a number of mangers where howel's horses were once fed. in a neighbouring wood, called 'parc y gelli' or 'hopiar y gelli,' my informant goes on to say, there are to be seen the foundations of seventeen or eighteen old hut-circles, and near them some think they see the site of an old church. about a mile to the south-east of corwrion is pendinas, which mr. hughes describes as an old triangular welsh fortress, on the bank of the ogwen; and within two stone's-throws or so of corwrion on the south side of it, and a little to the west of bryn twrw mentioned in the legend, is situated penard gron, a caer or fort, which he describes as being, before it was razed in his time, forty-two yards long by thirty-two wide, and defended by a sort of rampart of earth and stone several yards wide at the base. it used to be the resort of the country people for dancing, cock-fighting [ ], and other amusements on sundays. near it was a cairn, which, when it was dug into, was found to cover a kistvaen, a pot, and a quern: a variety of tales attaching to it are told concerning ghosts, caves, and hidden treasures. altogether mr. hughes is strongly of opinion that corwrion and its immediate surroundings represent a spot which at one time had great importance; and i see no reason wholly to doubt the correctness of that conclusion, but it would be interesting to know whether penrhyn used, as mr. hughes suggests, to be called penrhyn corwrion; there ought, perhaps, to be no great difficulty in ascertaining this, as some of the penrhyn estate appears to have been the subject of litigation in times gone by. before leaving mr. hughes' notes, i must here give his too brief account of another thing connected with corwrion, though, perhaps, not with the legends here in question. i allude to what he calls the lantern ghost (ysbryd y lantar):--'there used to be formerly,' he says, 'and there is still at corwrion, a good-sized sour apple-tree, which during the winter half of the year used to be lit up by fire. it began slowly and grew greater until the whole seemed to be in a blaze. he was told by an old woman that she formerly knew old people who declared they had seen it. in the same way the trees in hopiar y gelli appeared, according to them, to be also lit up with fire.' this reminds me of mr. fitzgerald's account of the irish bile-tineadh in the revue celtique, iv. . after communicating to me the notes of which the foregoing are abstracts, mr. hughes kindly got me a version of the legend from mr. david thomas, of pont y wern, in the same neighbourhood, but as it contains nothing which i have not already given from mr. hughes' own, i pass it by. mr. thomas, however, has heard that the number of the houses making up the town of corwrion some six or seven centuries ago was about seventy-five; but they were exactly seventy-three according to my next informant, mr. david evan davies, of treflys, bethesda, better known by his bardic name of dewi glan ffrydlas. both these gentlemen have also heard the tradition that there was a church at corwrion, where there used to be every sunday a single service, after which the people went to a spot not far off to amuse themselves, and at night to watch the fairies dancing, or to mix with them while they danced in a ring around a glow-worm. according to dewi glan ffrydlas, the spot was the pen y bonc, already mentioned, which means, among other things, that they chose a rising ground. this is referred to in a modern rhyme, which runs thus:-- a'r tylwyth teg yn dawnsio'n sionc o gylch magïen pen y bonc. with the fairies nimbly dancing round the glow-worm on the rising ground. dewi glan ffrydlas has kindly gone to the trouble of giving me a brief, but complete, version of the legend as he has heard it. it will be noticed that the discovering of the fairy's name is an idle incident in this version: it is brought in too late, and no use is made of it when introduced. this is the substance of his story in english:--'at one of the dances at pen y bonc, the heir of corwrion's eyes fell on one of the damsels of the fair family, and he was filled with love for her. courtship and marriage in due time ensued, but he had to agree to two conditions, namely, that he was neither to know her name nor to strike her with iron. by-and-by they had children, and when the husband happened to go, during his wife's confinement, to a merry-making at pen y bonc, the fairies talked together concerning his wife, and in expressing their feelings of sympathy for her, they inadvertently betrayed the mystery of her name by mentioning it within his hearing. years rolled on, when the husband and wife went out together one day to catch a colt of theirs that had not been broken in, their object being to go to conway fair. now, as she was swifter of foot than her husband, she got hold of the colt by the mane, and called out to him to throw her a halter, but instead of throwing her the one she asked for, he threw another with iron in it, which struck her. off she went into the lake. a grandson of this fairy many years afterwards married one of the girls of corwrion. they had a large piece of land, but no means of stocking it, so that they felt rather distressed in their minds. but lo and behold! one day a white-headed bull came out of the lake, bringing with him six black cows to their land. there never were the like of those cows for milk, and great was the prosperity of their owners, as well as the envy it kindled in their neighbours' breasts. but when they both grew old and died, the bull and the cows went back into the lake.' now i add the other sayings about the tylwyth teg, which dewi glan ffrydlas has kindly collected for me, beginning with a blurred story about changelings:-- 'once on a time, in the fourteenth century, the wife of a man at corwrion had twins, and she complained one day to a witch, who lived close by, at tydyn y barcud, 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," said the mother. "i wonder if somebody has exchanged children with you," said the witch. "i do not 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 know what i should do," said the mother. "well," 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 find 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 one to the other; 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 went back home again and did as she had been directed. when she reached home this time, she found to her astonishment that her own children had been brought back.' next comes a story about a midwife who lived at corwrion. 'one of the fairies called to ask her to come and attend on his wife. off she went with him, and she was astonished to be taken into a splendid palace. there she continued to go night and morning to dress the baby for some time, until one day the husband asked her to rub her eyes with a certain ointment he offered her. she did so, and found herself sitting on a tuft of rushes, and not in a palace. there was no baby: all had disappeared. some time afterwards she happened to go to the town, and whom should she there see busily buying various wares, but the fairy on whose wife she had been attending. she addressed him with the question, "how are you to-day?" instead of answering her, he asked, "how do you see me?" "with my eyes," was the prompt reply. "which eye?" he asked. "this one," said the woman, pointing to it; and instantly he disappeared, never more to be seen by her.' this tale, as will be seen on comparison later, is incomplete, and probably incorrect. here is another from mr. d. e. davies:--'one day guto, the farmer of corwrion, complained to his wife that he lacked men to mow his hay, when she replied, "why fret about it? look yonder! there you have a field full of them at it, and stripped to their shirt-sleeves (yn llewys eu crysau)." when he went to the spot the sham workmen of the fairy family had disappeared. this same guto--or somebody else--happened another time to be ploughing, when he heard some person he could not see, calling out to him, "i have got the bins (that is the vice) of my plough broken." "bring it to me," said the driver of guto's team, "that i may mend it." when they finished the furrow, they found the broken vice, with a barrel of beer placed near it. one of the men sat down and mended the vice. then they made another furrow, and when they returned to the spot they found there a two-eared dish filled to the brim with bara a chwrw, or "bread and beer." the word vice, i may observe, is an english term, which is applied in carnarvonshire to a certain part of the plough: it is otherwise called bins, but neither does this seem to be a welsh word, nor have i heard either used in south wales. at times one of the fairies was in the habit, as i was told by more than one of my informants, of coming out of llyn corwrion with her spinning-wheel (troell bach) on fine summer days and betaking herself to spinning. while at that work she might be heard constantly singing or humming, in a sort of round tune, the words sìli ffrit. so that sìli ffrit leisa bèla may now be heard from the mouths of the children in that neighbourhood. but i have not been successful in finding out what liza bella's 'silly frit' exactly means, though i am, on the whole, convinced that the words are other than of welsh origin. the last of them, ffrit, is usually applied in cardiganshire to anything worthless or insignificant, and the derivative, ffrityn, means one who has no go or perseverance in him: the feminine is ffriten. in carnarvonshire my wife has heard ffrityn and ffritan applied to a small man and a small woman respectively. mr. hughes says that in merioneth and parts of powys sìli ffrit is a term applied to a small woman or a female dwarf who happens to be proud, vain, and fond of the attentions of the other sex (benyw fach neu goraches falch a hunanol a fydai hoff o garu); but he thinks he has heard it made use of with regard to the gipsies, and possibly also to the tylwyth teg. the rev. o. davies thinks the words sìli ffrit leisa bèla to be very modern, and that they refer to a young woman who lived at a place in the neighbourhood, called bryn bèla or brymbèla, 'bella's hill,' the point being that this bella was ahead, in her time, of all the girls in those parts in matters of taste and fashion. this however does not seem to go far enough back, and it is possible still that in bèla, that is, in english spelling, bella, we have merely a shortening of some such a name as isabella or arabella, which were once much more popular in the principality than they are now: in fact, i do not feel sure that leisa bèla is not bodily a corruption of isabella. as to sìli ffrit, one might at first have been inclined to render it by small fry, especially in the sense of the french 'de la friture' as applied to young men and boys, and to connect it with the welsh sil and silod, which mean small fish; but the pronunciation of silli or sìli being nearly that of the english word silly, it appears, on the whole, to belong to the host of english words to be found in colloquial welsh, though they seldom find their way into books. students of english ought to be able to tell us whether frit had the meaning here suggested in any part of england, and how lately; also, whether there was such a phrase as 'silly frit' in use. after penning this, i received the following interesting communication from mr. william jones, of llangollen:--the term sìli ffrit was formerly in use at bedgelert, and what was thereby meant was a child of the tylwyth teg. it is still used for any creature that is smaller than ordinary. 'pooh, a silly frit like that!' (pw, rhyw sìli ffrit fel yna!). 'mrs. so-and-so has a fine child.' 'ha, do you call a silly frit like that a fine child?' (mae gan hon a hon blentyn braf. ho, a ydych chwi'n galw rhyw sìli ffrit fel hwnna'n braf?) to return to leisa bèla and belenë, it may be that the same person was meant by both these names, but i am in no hurry to identify them, as none of my correspondents knows the latter of them except mr. hughes, who gives it on the authority of the bard gutyn peris, and nothing further so far as i can understand, whereas bèla will come before us in another story, as it is the same name, i presume, which glasynys has spelled bella in cymru fu. so i wrote in : since then i have ascertained from professor joseph wright, who is busily engaged on his great english dialect dictionary, that frit [ ] is the same word, in the dialects of cheshire, shropshire, and pembrokeshire, as fright in literary english; and that the corresponding verb to frighten is in them fritten, while a frittenin (= the book english frightening) means a ghost or apparition. so sìli ffrit is simply the english silly frit, and means probably a silly sprite or silly ghost, and sìli ffrit leisa bèla would mean the silly ghost of a woman called liza bella. but the silly frit found spinning near corwrion pool will come under notice again, for that fairy belongs to the rumpelstiltzchen group of tales, and the fragment of a story about her will be seen to have treated silly frit as her proper name, which she had not intended to reach the ears of the person of whom she was trying to get the better. these tales are brought into connexion with the present day in more ways than one, for besides the various accounts of the bwganod or bogies of corwrion frightening people when out late at night, mr. d. e. davies knows a man, who is still living, and who well remembers the time when the sound of working used to be heard in the pool, and the voices of children crying somewhere in its depths, but that when people rushed there to see what the matter was, all was found profoundly quiet and still. moreover, there is a family or two, now numerously represented in the parishes of llandegai and llanllechid, who used to be taunted with being the offspring of fairy ancestors. one of these families was nicknamed 'simychiaid' or 'smychiaid'; and my informant, who is not yet quite forty, says that he heard his mother repeat scores of times that the old people used to say, that the smychiaid, who were very numerous in the neighbourhood, were descended from fairies, and that they came from llyn corwrion. at all this the smychiaid were wont to grow mightily angry. another tradition, he says, about them was that they were a wandering family that arrived in the district from the direction of conway, and that the father's name was a simwch, or rather that was his nickname, based on the proper name simwnt, which appears to have once been the prevalent name in llandegai. the historical order of these words would in that case have been simwnt, simwch, simychiaid, smychiaid. now simwnt seems to be merely the welsh form given to some such english name as simond, just as edmund or edmond becomes in north wales emwnt. the objection to the nickname seems to lie in the fact, which one of my correspondents points out to me, that simwch is understood to mean a monkey, a point on which i should like to have further information. pughe gives simach, it is true, as having the meaning of the latin simia. a branch of the same family is said to be called 'y cowperiaid' or the coopers, from an ancestor who was either by name or by trade a cooper. mr. hughes' account of the smychiaid was, that they are the descendants of one simonds, who came to be a bailiff at bodysgallan, near deganwy, and moved from there to coetmor in the neighbourhood of corwrion. simonds was obnoxious to the bards, he goes on to say, and they described the smychiaid as having arrived in the parish at the bottom of a cawell, 'a creel or basket carried on the back,' when chance would have it that the cawell cord snapped just in that neighbourhood, at a place called pont y llan. that accident is described, according to mr. hughes, in the following doggerel, the origin of which i do not know-- e dorai 'r arwest, ede wan, brwnt y lle, ar bont y llan. the cord would snap, feeble yarn, at that nasty spot, pont y llan. curiously enough, the same cawell story used to be said of a widely spread family in north cardiganshire, whose surname was pronounced massn and written mason or mazon: as my mother was of this family, i have often heard it. the cawell, if i remember rightly, was said, in this instance, to have come from scotland, to which were traced three men who settled in north cardiganshire. one had no descendants, but the other two, mason and peel--i think his name was peel, but i am only sure that it was not welsh--had so many, that the masons, at any rate, are exceedingly numerous there; but a great many of them, owing to some extent, probably, to the cawell story, have been silly enough to change their name into that of jones, some of them in my time. the three men came there probably for refuge in the course of troubles in scotland, as a frazer and a francis did to anglesey. at any rate, i have never heard it suggested that they were of aquatic origin, but, taking the cawell into consideration, and the popular account of the smychiaid, i should be inclined to think that the cawell originally referred to some such a supposed descent. i only hope that somebody will help us with another and a longer cawell tale, which will make up for the brevity of these allusions. we may, however, assume, i think, that there was a tendency at one time in gwyned, if not in other parts of the principality, to believe, or pretend to believe, that the descendants of an englishman or scotsman, who settled among the old inhabitants, were of fairy origin, and that their history was somehow uncanny, which was all, of course, duly resented. this helps, to some extent, to explain how names of doubtful origin have got into these tales, such as smychiaid, cowperiaid, pellings, penelope, leisa bèla or isabella, and the like. this association of the lake legends with intruders from without is what has, perhaps, in a great measure served to rescue such legends from utter oblivion. as to a church at corwrion, the tradition does not seem to be an old one, and it appears founded on one of the popular etymologies of the word corwrion, which treats the first syllable as cor in the sense of a choir; but the word has other meanings, including among them that of an ox-stall or enclosure for cattle. taking this as coming near the true explanation, it at once suggests itself, that creuwyryon in the mabinogi of math ab mathonwy is the same place, for creu or crau also meant an enclosure for animals, including swine. in irish the word is cró, an enclosure, a hut or hovel. the passage in the mabinogi [ ] relates to gwydion returning with the swine he had got by dint of magic and deceit from pryderi, prince of dyfed, and runs thus in lady charlotte guest's translation: 'so they journeyed on to the highest town of arllechwed, and there they made a sty (creu) for the swine, and therefore was the name of creuwyryon given to that town.' as to wyryon or wyrion, which we find made into wrion in corwrion according to the modern habit, it would seem to be no other word than the usual plural of wyr, a grandson, formerly also any descendant in the direct line. if so, the name of an ancestor must have originally followed, just as one of the places called bettws was once betws wyrion idon, 'the bettws of idon's descendants'; but it is possible that wyrion in creu- or cor-wyrion was itself a man's name, though i have never met with it. it is right to add that the name appears in the record of carnarvon (pp. , , ) as creweryon, which carries us back to the first half of the fourteenth century. there it occurs as the name of a township containing eight gavels, and the particulars about it might, in the hand of one familiar with the tenures of that time, perhaps give us valuable information as to what may have been its status at a still earlier date. vi. here, for the sake of comparison with the northwalian stories in which the fairy wife runs away from her husband in consequence of his having unintentionally touched or hit her with the iron in the bridle, the fetter, or the stirrup, as on pp. , , , , , . i wish to cite the oldest recorded version, namely from walter mapes' curious miscellany of anecdotes and legends entitled de nugis curialium distinctiones quinque. mapes flourished in the latter part of the twelfth century, and in distinctio ii. of thomas wright's edition, published in the year , one reads the following story, which serves the purpose there of giving the origin of a certain trinio, of whom mapes had more to say:-- aliud non miraculum sed portentum nobis walenses referunt. wastinum wastiniauc secus stagnum brekeinauc [read brecheinauc], quod in circuitu duo miliaria tenet, mansisse aiunt et vidisse per tres claras a luna noctes choreas fæminarum in campo avenæ suæ, et secutum eum eas fuisse donec in aqua stagni submergerentur, unam tamen quarta vice retinuisse. narrabat etiam ille raptor illius quod eas noctibus singulis post submersionem earum murmurantes audisset sub aqua et dicentes, 'si hoc fecisset, unam de nobis cepisset,' et se ab ipsis edoctum quomodo hanc adepta [read -us] sit, quæ et consensit et nupsit ei, et prima verba sua hæc ad virum suum, 'libens tibi serviam, et tota obedientiæ devotione usque in diem illum prosilire volens ad clamores ultra lenem [read leueni] me freno tuo percusseris.' est autem leueni aqua vicina stagno. quod et factum est; post plurimæ prolis susceptionem ab eo freno percussa est, et in reditu suo inventam eam fugientem cum prole, insecutus est, et vix unum ex filiis suis arripuit, nomine triunem uagelauc. 'the welsh relate to us another thing, not so much a miracle as a portent, as follows. they say that gwestin of gwestiniog dwelt beside brecknock mere, which has a circumference of two miles, and that on three moonlight nights he saw in his field of oats women dancing, and that he followed them until they sank in the water of the mere; but the fourth time they say that he seized hold of one of them. her captor further used to relate that on each of these nights he had heard the women, after plunging into the mere, murmuring beneath the water and saying, "if he had done so and so, he would have caught one of us," and that he had been instructed by their own words, as to the manner in which he caught her. she both yielded and became his wife, and her first words to her husband were these: "willingly will i serve thee, and with whole-hearted obedience, until that day when, desirous of sallying forth in the direction of the cries beyond the llyfni, thou shalt strike me with thy bridle"--the llyfni is a burn near the mere. and this came to pass: after presenting him with a numerous offspring she was struck by him with the bridle, and on his returning home, he found her running away with her offspring, and he pursued her, but it was with difficulty that he got hold even of one of his sons, and he was named trinio (?) faglog.' the story, as it proceeds, mentions trinio engaged in battle with the men of a prince who seems to have been no other than brychan of brycheiniog, supposed to have died about the middle of the fifth century. the battle was disastrous to trinio and his friends, and trinio was never seen afterwards; so walter mapes reports the fact that people believed him to have been rescued by his mother, and that he was with her living still in the lake. giraldus calls it lacus ille de brecheniauc magnus et famosus, quem et clamosum dicunt, 'that great and famous lake of brecknock which they also call clamosus,' suggested by the welsh llyn llefni, so called from the river llefni, misinterpreted as if derived from llef 'a cry.' with this lake he connects the legend, that at the bidding of the rightful prince of wales, the birds frequenting it would at once warble and sing. this he asserts to have been proved in the case of gruffud, son of rhys, though the normans were at the time masters of his person and of his territory [ ]. after dwelling on the varying colours of the lake he adds the following statement:--ad hæc etiam totus ædificiis consertus, culturis egregiis, hortis ornatus et pomeriis, ab accolis quandoque conspicitur, 'now and then also it is seen by the neighbouring inhabitants to be covered with buildings, and adorned with excellent farming, gardens, and orchards.' it is remarkable as one of the few lakes in wales where the remains of a crannog have been discovered, and while mapes gives it as only two miles round, it is now said to be about five; so it has sometimes [ ] been regarded as a stockaded island rather than as an instance of pile dwellings. in the brython for , pp. - , is to be found what purports to be a copy of a version of the legend of llyn syfadon, as contained in a manuscript of hugh thomas' in the british museum. it is to the effect that the people of the neighbourhood have a story that all the land now covered by the lake belonged to a princess, who had an admirer to whom she would not be married unless he procured plenty of gold: she did not care how. so he one day murdered and robbed a man who had money, and the princess then accepted the murderer's suit, but she felt uneasy on account of the reports as to the murdered man's ghost haunting the place where his body had been buried. so she made her admirer go at night to interview the ghost and lay it. whilst he waited near the grave he heard a voice inquiring whether the innocent man was not to be avenged, and another replying that it would not be avenged till the ninth generation. the princess and her lover felt safe enough and were married: they multiplied and became numerous, while their town grew to be as it were another sodom; and the original pair lived on so astonishingly long that they saw their descendants of the ninth generation. they exulted in their prosperity, and one day held a great feast to celebrate it; and when their descendants were banqueting with them, and the gaiety and mirth were at their zenith, ancestors and descendants were one and all drowned in a mighty cataclysm which produced the present lake. lastly may be briefly mentioned the belief still lingering in the neighbourhood, to the effect that there is a town beneath the waters of the lake, and that in rough weather the bells from the church tower of that town may be heard ringing, while in calm weather the spire of the church may be distinctly seen. my informant, writing in , added the remark: 'this story seems hardly creditable to us, but many of the old people believe it.' i ought to have mentioned that the fifteenth-century poet lewis glyn cothi connects with syfadon [ ] lake an afanc legend; but this will be easier to understand in the light of the more complete one from the banks of the river conwy. so the reader will find glyn cothi's words given in the next chapter. chapter ii the fairies' revenge in th'olde dayes of the king arthour, of which that britons speken greet honour, al was this land fulfild of fayerye. the elf-queen, with hir joly companye, daunced ful ofte in many a grene mede; this was the olde opinion, as i rede. i speke of manye hundred yeres ago. chaucer. i. the best living authority i have found on the folklore of bedgelert, drws y coed, and the surrounding district, is mr. william jones, of llangollen. he has written a good deal on the subject in the brython, and in essays intended for competition at various literary meetings in wales. i had the loan from him of one such essay, and i have referred to the brython; and i have also had from mr. jones a number of letters, most of which contain some additional information. in harmony, moreover, with my usual practice, i have asked mr. jones to give me a little of his own history. this he has been kind enough to do; and, as i have so far followed no particular order in these jottings, i shall now give the reader the substance of his letters in english, as i am anxious that no item should be lost or left inaccessible to english students of folklore. what is unintelligible to me may not be so to those who have made a serious study of the subject. mr. jones' words are in substance to the following effect:-- 'i was bred and born in the parish of bedgelert, one of the most rustic neighbourhoods and least subject to change in the whole country. some of the old welsh customs remained within my memory, in spite of the adverse influence of the calvinistic reformation, as it is termed, and i have myself witnessed several knitting nights and nuptial feasts (neithiorau), which, be it noticed, are not to be confounded with weddings, as they were feasts which followed the weddings, at the interval of a week. at these gatherings song and story formed an element of prime importance in the entertainment at a time when the reformation alluded to had already blown the blast of extinction on the merry nights (noswyliau llawen) and saints' fêtes [ ] (gwyliau mabsant) before the days of my youth, though many of my aged acquaintances remembered them well, and retained a vivid recollection of scores of the amusing tales which used to be related for the best at the last mentioned long-night meetings. i have heard not a few of them reproduced by men of that generation. as an example of the old-fashioned habits of the people of bedgelert in my early days, i may mention the way in which wives and children used to be named. the custom was that the wife never took her husband's family name, but retained the one she had as a spinster. thus my grandmother on my mother's side was called ellen hughes, daughter to hugh williams, of gwastad annas. the name of her husband, my grandfather, was william prichard [= w. ab rhisiart, or richard's son], son to richard william, of the efail newyd. the name of their eldest son, my uncle (brother to my mother), was hugh hughes, and the second son's name was richard william. the mother had the privilege of naming her first-born after her own family in case it was a boy; but if it happened to be a girl, she took her name from the father's family, for which reason my mother's maiden name was catharine williams. this remained her name to the day of her death: and the old people at bedgelert persisted in calling me, so long as i was at home, william prichard, after my grandfather, as i was my mother's eldest child. 'most of the tales i have collected,' says mr. jones, 'relate to the parishes of bedgelert and dolwydelen. my kindred have lived for generations in those two parishes, and they are very numerous: in fact, it used to be said that the people of dolwydelen and bedgelert were all cousins. they were mostly small farmers, and jealous of all strangers, so that they married almost without exception from the one parish into the other. this intermixture helped to carry the tales of the one parish to the other, and to perpetuate them on the hearths of their homes from generation to generation, until they were swept away by another influence in this century. many of my ancestors seem to have been very fond of stories, poetry, and singing, and i have been told that some of them were very skilled in these things. so also, in the case of my parents, the memory of the past had a great charm for them on both sides; and when the relatives from dolwydelen and bedgelert met in either parish, there used to be no end to the recounting of pedigrees and the repeating of tales for the best. by listening to them, i had been filled with desire to become an adept in pedigrees and legends. my parents used to let me go every evening to the house of my grandfather, william ab rhisiart, the clerk, to listen to tales, and to hear edifying books read. my grandfather was a reader "without his rival," and "he used to beat the parson hollow." many people used to meet at pen y bont in the evenings to converse together, and the stories of some of them were now and then exceedingly eloquent. of course, i listened with eager ears and open mouth, in order, if i heard anything new, to be able to repeat it to my mother. she, unwilling to let herself be beaten, would probably relate another like it, which she had heard from her mother, her grandmother, or her old aunt of gwastad annas, who was a fairly good verse-wright of the homely kind. then my father, if he did not happen to be busy with his music-book, would also give us a tale which he had heard from his grandmother or grandfather, the old john jones, of tyn llan dolwydelen, or somebody else would do so. that is one source from which i got my knowledge of folklore; but this ceased when we moved from bedgelert to carnarvon in the year . my grandfather died in , aged seventy-eight. 'besides those,' mr. jones goes on to say, 'who used to come to my grandfather's house and to his workshop to relate stories, the blacksmith's shop used to be, especially on a rainy day, a capital place for a story, and many a time did i lurk there instead of going to school, in order to hear old william dafyd, the sawyer, who, peace be to his ashes! drank many a hornful from the big quart without ever breaking down, and old ifan owen, the fisherman, tearing away for the best at their yarns, sometimes a tissue of lies and sometimes truth. the former was funny, and a great wag, up to all kinds of tricks. he made everybody laugh, whereas the latter would preserve the gravity of a saint, however lying might be the tale which he related. ifan owen's best stories were about the water spirit, or, as he called it, llamhigyn y dwr, "the water leaper." he had not himself seen the llamhigyn, but his father had seen it "hundreds of times." many an evening it had prevented him from catching a single fish in llyn gwynan, and, when the fisherman got on this theme, his eloquence was apt to become highly polysyllabic in its adjectives. once in particular, when he had been angling for hours towards the close of the day, without catching anything, he found that something took the fly clean off the hook each time he cast it. after moving from one spot to another on the lake, he fished opposite the benlan wen, when something gave his line a frightful pull, "and, by the gallows, i gave another pull," the fisherman used to say, "with all the force of my arm: out it came, and up it went off the hook, whilst i turned round to see, as it dashed so against the cliff of benlan that it blazed like a lightning." he used to add, "if that was not the llamhigyn, it must have been the very devil himself." that cliff must be two hundred yards at least from the shore. as to his father, he had seen the water spirit many times, and he had also been fishing in the llyn glâs or ffynnon lâs, once upon a time, when he hooked a wonderful and fearful monster: it was not like a fish, but rather resembled a toad, except that it had a tail and wings instead of legs. he pulled it easily enough towards the shore, but, as its head was coming out of the water, it gave a terrible shriek that was enough to split the fisherman's bones to the marrow, and, had there not been a friend standing by, he would have fallen headlong into the lake, and been possibly dragged like a sheep into the depth; for there is a tradition that if a sheep got into the llyn glâs, it could not be got out again, as something would at once drag it to the bottom. this used to be the belief of the shepherds of cwm dyli, within my memory, and they acted on it in never letting their dogs go after the sheep in the neighbourhood of this lake. these two funny fellows, william dafyd and ifan owen, died long ago, without leaving any of their descendants blessed with as much as the faintest gossamer thread of the story-teller's mantle. the former, if he had been still living, would now be no less than years of age, and the latter about .' mr. jones proceeds to say that he had stories from sources besides those mentioned, namely, from lowri robart, wife of rhisiart edwart, the 'old guide'; from his old aunt of gwastad annas; from william wmffra, husband to his grandmother's sister; from his grandmother, who was a native of dolwydelen, but had been brought up at pwllgwernog, in nanmor; from her sister; and from gruffud prisiart, of nanmor, afterwards of glan colwyn, who gave him the legend of owen lawgoch of which i shall have something to say later, and the story of the bogie of pen pwll coch, which i do not know. 'but the chief story-teller of his time at bedgelert,' mr. jones goes on to say, 'was twm ifan siams (pronounced siams or shams), brother, i believe, to dafyd siôn siams, of the penrhyn, who was a bard and pedigree man. twm lived at nanmor, but i know not what his vocation was; his relatives, however, were small farmers, carpenters, and masons. it is not improbable that he was also an artisan, as he was conversant with numbers, magnitude, and letters, and left behind him a volume forming a pedigree book known at nanmor as the barcud mawr, or "great kite," as gruffud prisiart told me. the latter had been reading it many a time in order to know the origin of somebody or other. all i can remember of this character is that he was very old--over --and that he went from house to house in his old age to relate tales and recount pedigrees: great was the welcome he had from everybody everywhere. i remember, also, that he was small of stature, nimble, witty, exceedingly amusing, and always ready with his say on every subject. he was in the habit of calling on my grandfather in his rambles, and very cordial was the reception which my parents always gave him on account of his tales and his knowledge of pedigrees. the story of the afanc, as given in my collection, is from his mouth. you will observe how little difference there is between his version [ ] and that known to edward llwyd in the year . i had related this story to a friend of mine at portmadoc, who was grandson or great-grandson to dafyd siôn siams, of penrhyn, in , when he called my attention to the same story in the cambrian journal from the correspondence of edward llwyd. i was surprised at the similarity between the two versions, and i went to bedgelert to gruffud rhisiart, who was related to twm siôn siams. i read the story to him, and i found that he had heard it related by his uncle just as it was by me, and as given in the cambrian journal. twm ifan siams had funny stories about the tricks of gwrach y rhibyn, the bodach [ ] glas, and the bwbach llwyd, which he localized in nanmor and llanfrothen; he had, also, a very eloquent tale about the courtship between a sailor from moel y gest, near portmadoc, and a mermaid, of which i retain a fairly good recollection. i believe twm died in the year - , aged about ninety-five.' so far, i have merely translated mr. jones' account of himself and his authorities as given me in the letter i have already referred to, dated in june of last year, . i would now add the substance of his general remarks about the fairies, as he had heard them described, and as he expressed himself in his essay for the competition on folklore at the carnarvon eistedfod of :--the traditions, he says, respecting the tylwyth teg vary according to the situation of the districts with which they are connected, and many more such traditions continue to be remembered among the inhabitants of the mountains than by those of the more level country. in some places the tylwyth teg are described as a small folk of a thieving nature, living in summer among the fern bushes in the mountains, and in winter in the heather and gorse. these were wont to frequent the fairs and to steal money from the farmers' pockets, where they placed in its stead their own fairy money, which looked like the coin of the realm, but when it was paid for anything bought it would vanish in the pockets of the seller. in other districts the fairies were described as a little bigger and stronger folk; but these latter were also of a thieving disposition. they would lurk around people's houses, looking for an opportunity to steal butter and cheese from the dairies, and they skulked about the cow-yards, in order to milk the cows and the goats, which they did so thoroughly that many a morning there was not a drop of milk to be had. the principal mischief, however, which those used to do, was to carry away unbaptized infants, and place in their stead their own wretched and peevish offspring. they were said to live in hidden caves in the mountains, and he had heard one old man asserting his firm belief that it was beneath moel eilio, also called moel eilian, a mountain lying between llanberis and cwellyn, the tylwyth teg of nant y bettws lived, whom he had seen many a time when he was a lad; and, if any one came across the mouth of their cave, he thought that he would find there a wonderful amount of wealth, 'for they were thieves without their like.' there is still another species of tylwyth teg, very unlike the foregoing ones in their nature and habits. not only was this last kind far more beautiful and comely than the others, but they were honest and good towards mortals. their whole nature was replete with joy and fun, nor were they ever beheld hardly, except engaged in some merry-making or other. they might be seen on bright moonlight nights at it, singing and carolling playfully on the fair meadows and the green slopes, at other times dancing lightly on the tops of the rushes in the valleys. they were also wont to be seen hunting in full force on the backs of their grey horses; for this kind were rich, and kept horses and servants. though it used to be said that they were spiritual and immortal beings, still they ate and drank like human beings: they married and had children. they were also remarkable for their cleanliness, and they were wont to reward neat maid-servants and hospitable wives. so housewives used to exhort their maids to clean their houses thoroughly every night before going to bed, saying that if the tylwyth teg happened to enter, they would be sure to leave money for them somewhere; but they were to tell no one in case they found any, lest the tylwyth should be offended and come no more. the mistresses also used to order a tinful of water to be placed at the foot of the stairs, a clean cloth on the table, with bread and its accompaniments (bara ac enllyn) placed on it, so that, if the tylwyth came in to eat, the maids should have their recompense on the hob as well as unstinted praise for keeping the house clean, or, as mr. jones has it in a couplet from goronwy owen's cywyd y cynghorfynt-- cael eu rhent ar y pentan, a llwyr glod o bai llawr glân. finding the fairies' pay on the hob, with full credit for a clean floor. thus, whether the fairies came or not to pay a visit to them during their sleep, the house would be clean by the morning, and the table ready set for breakfast. it appears that the places most frequently resorted to by this species were rushy combes surrounded by smooth hills with round tops, also the banks of rivers and the borders of lakes; but they were seldom seen at any time near rocks or cliffs. so more tales about them are found in districts of the former description than anywhere else, and among them may be mentioned penmachno, dolwydelan, the sides of moel siabod, llandegái mountain, and from there to llanberis, to nantlle lakes, to moel tryfan [ ] and nant y bettws, the upper portion of the parish of bedgelert from drws y coed to the pennant, and the district beginning from there and including the level part of eifion, on towards celynnog fawr. i have very little doubt that there are many traditions about them in the neighbourhood of the eifl and in lleyn; i know but little, however, about these last. this kind of fairies was said to live underground, and the way to their country lay under hollow banks that overhung the deepest parts of the lakes, or the deepest pools in the rivers, so that mortals could not follow them further than the water, should they try to go after them. they used to come out in broad daylight, two or three together, and now and then a shepherd, so the saying went, used to talk and chat with them. sometimes, moreover, he fell over head and ears in love with their damsels, but they did not readily allow a mortal to touch them. the time they were to be seen in their greatest glee was at night when the moon was full, when they celebrated a merry night (noswaith lawen). at midnight to the minute, they might be seen rising out of the ground in every combe and valley; then, joining hands, they would form into circles, and begin to sing and dance with might and main until the cock crew, when they would vanish. many used to go to look at them on those nights, but it was dangerous to go too near them, lest they should lure the spectator into their circle; for if that happened, they would throw a charm over him, which would make him invisible to his companions, and he would be detained by the fairies as long as he lived. at times some people went too near to them, and got snatched in; and at other times a love-inspired youth, fascinated by the charms of one of their damsels, rushed in foolhardily to try to seize one of them, and became instantly surrounded and concealed from sight. if he could be got out before the cock crew he would be no worse; but once the fairies disappeared without his having been released, he would never more be seen in the land of the living. the way to get the captured man out was to take a long stick of mountain ash (pren criafol), which two or more strong men had to hold with one of its ends in the middle of the circle, so that when the man came round in his turn in the dance he might take hold of it, for he is there bodily though not visible, so that he cannot go past without coming across the stick. then the others pull him out, for the fairies, no more than any other spirit, dare touch the mountain ash. we now proceed to give some of mr. jones' legends. the first is one which he published in the fourth volume of the brython, p. , whence the following free translation is made of it:-- 'in the north-west corner of the parish of bedgelert there is a place which used to be called by the old inhabitants the land of the fairies, and it reaches from cwm hafod ruffyd along the slope of the mountain of drws y coed as far as llyn y dywarchen. the old people of former times used to find much pleasure and amusement in this district in listening every moonlight night to the charming music of the fair family, and in looking at their dancing and their mirthful sports. once on a time, a long while ago, there lived at upper drws y coed a youth, who was joyous and active, brave and determined of heart. this young man amused himself every night by looking on and listening to them. one night they had come to a field near the house, near the shore of llyn y dywarchen, to pass a merry night. he went, as usual, to look at them, when his glances at once fell on one of the ladies, who possessed such beauty as he had never seen in a human being. her appearance was like that of alabaster; her voice was as agreeable as the nightingale's, and as unruffled as the zephyr in a flower-garden at the noon of a long summer's day; and her gait was pretty and aristocratic; her feet moved in the dance as lightly on the grass as the rays of the sun had a few hours before on the lake hard by. he fell in love with her over head and ears, and in the strength of that passion--for what is stronger than love!--he rushed, when the bustle was at its height, into the midst of the fair crowd, and snatched the graceful damsel in his arms, and ran instantly with her to the house. when the fair family saw the violence used by a mortal, they broke up the dance and ran after her towards the house; but, when they arrived, the door had been bolted with iron, wherefore they could not get near her or touch her in any way; and the damsel had been placed securely in a chamber. the youth, having her now under his roof, as is the saying, endeavoured, with all his talent, to win her affection and to induce her to wed. but at first she would on no account hear of it; on seeing his persistence, however, and on finding that he would not let her go to return to her people, she consented to be his servant if he could find out her name; but she would not be married to him. as he thought that was not impossible, he half agreed to the condition; but, after bothering his head with all the names known in that neighbourhood, he found himself no nearer his point, though he was not willing to give up the search hurriedly. one night, as he was going home from carnarvon market, he saw a number of the fair folks in a turbary not far from his path. they seemed to him to be engaged in an important deliberation, and it struck him that they were planning how to recover their abducted sister. he thought, moreover, that if he could secretly get within hearing, he might possibly find her name out. on looking carefully around, he saw that a ditch ran through the turbary and passed near the spot where they stood. so he made his way round to the ditch, and crept, on all fours, along it until he was within hearing of the family. after listening a little, he found that their deliberation was as to the fate of the lady he had carried away, and he heard one of them crying, piteously, "o penelop, o penelop, my sister, why didst thou run away with a mortal!" "penelop," said the young man to himself, "that must be the name of my beloved: that is enough." at once he began to creep back quietly, and he returned home safely without having been seen by the fairies. when he got into the house, he called out to the girl, saying, "penelop, my beloved one, come here!" and she came forward and asked, in astonishment, "o mortal, who has betrayed my name to thee?" then, lifting up her tiny folded hands, she exclaimed, "alas, my fate, my fate!" but she grew contented with her fate, and took to her work in earnest. everything in the house and on the farm prospered under her charge. there was no better or cleanlier housewife in the neighbourhood around, or one that was more provident than she. the young man, however, was not satisfied that she should be a servant to him, and, after he had long and persistently sought it, she consented to be married, on the one condition, that, if ever he should touch her with iron, she would be free to leave him and return to her family. he agreed to that condition, since he believed that such a thing would never happen at his hands. so they were married, and lived several years happily and comfortably together. two children were born to them, a boy and a girl, the picture of their mother and the idols of their father. but one morning, when the husband wanted to go to the fair at carnarvon, he went out to catch a filly that was grazing in the field by the house; but for the life of him he could not catch her, and he called to his wife to come to assist him. she came without delay, and they managed to drive the filly to a secure corner, as they thought; but, as the man approached to catch her, she rushed past him. in his excitement, he threw the bridle after her; but, who should be running in the direction of it, but his wife! the iron bit struck her on the cheek, and she vanished out of sight on the spot. her husband never saw her any more; but one cold frosty night, a long time after this event, he was awakened from his sleep by somebody rubbing the glass of his window, and, after he had given a response, he recognized the gentle and tender voice of his wife saying to him:-- lest my son should find it cold, place on him his father's coat; lest the fair one find it cold, place on her my petticoat. it is said that the descendants of this family still continue in these neighbourhoods, and that they are easy to be recognized by their light and fair complexion. a similar story is related of the son of the farmer of braich y dinas, in llanfihangel y pennant, and it used to be said that most of the inhabitants of that neighbourhood were formerly of a light complexion. i have often heard old people saying, that it was only necessary, within their memory, to point out in the fair at penmorfa any one as being of the breed of the tylwyth, to cause plenty of fighting that day at least.' the reader may compare with this tale the following, for which i have to thank mr. samuel rhys williams, whose words i give, followed by a translation:-- yr oed gwr ieuanc o gymydogaeth drws y coed yn dychwelyd adref o bedgelert ar noswaith loergan lleuad; pan ar gyfer llyn y gader gwelai nifer o'r bonedigesau a elwir y tylwyth teg yn myned trwy eu chwareuon nosawl. swynwyd y llanc yn y fan gan brydferthwch y rhianod hyn, ac yn neillduol un o honynt. collod y llywodraeth arno ei hunan i'r fath radau fel y penderfynod neidio i'r cylch a dwyn yn ysbail ido yr hon oed wedi myned a'i galon mor llwyr. cyflawnod ei fwriad a dygod y fonediges gydag ef adref. bu yn wraig ido, a ganwyd plant idynt. yn damweiniol, tra yn cyflawni rhyw orchwyl, digwydod ido ei tharo a haiarn ac ar amrantiad diflannod ei anwylyd o'i olwg ac nis gwelod hi mwyach, ond darfod idi dyfod at ffenestr ei ystafell wely un noswaith ar ol hyn a'i annog i fod yn dirion wrth y plant a'i bod hi yn aros gerllaw y ty yn llyny dywarchen. y mae y tradodiad hefyd yn ein hysbysu darfod i'r gwr hwn symud i fyw o drws y coed i ystrad betws garmon. 'a young man, from the neighbourhood of drws y coed, was returning home one bright moonlight night, from bedgelert; when he came opposite the lake called llyn y gader, he saw a number of the ladies known as the tylwyth teg going through their nightly frolics. the youth was charmed at once by the beauty of these ladies, and especially by one of them. he so far lost his control over himself, that he resolved to leap into the circle and carry away as his spoil the one who had so completely robbed him of his heart. he accomplished his intention, and carried the lady home with him. she became his wife, and children were born to them. accidentally, while at some work or other, it happened to him to strike her with iron, and, in the twinkling of an eye, his beloved one disappeared from his sight. he saw her no more, except that she came to his bedroom window one night afterwards, and told him to be tender to the children, and that she was staying, near the house, in the lake called llyn y dywarchen. the tradition also informs us that this man moved from drws y coed to live at ystrad near bettws garmon.' the name llyn y dywarchen, i may add, means the lake of the sod or turf: it is the one with the floating island, described thus by giraldus, ii. (p. ):--alter enim insulam habet erraticam, vi ventorum impellentium ad oppositas plerumque lacus partes errabundam. hic armenta pascentia nonnunquam pastores ad longinquas subito partes translata mirantur. 'for one of the two lakes holds a wandering island, which strays mostly with the force of the winds impelling it to the opposite parts of the lake. sometimes cattle grazing on it are, to the surprise of the shepherds, suddenly carried across to the more distant parts.' sheep are known to get on the floating islet, and it is still believed to float them away from the shore. mr. s. rhys williams, it will be noticed, has given the substance of the legend rather than the story itself. i now proceed to translate the same tale as given in welsh in cymru fu (pp. - of the edition published by messrs. hughes and son, wrexham), in a very different dress--it is from glasynys' pen, and, as might be expected, decked out with all the literary adornments in which he delighted. the language he used was his own, but there is no reason to think that he invented any of the incidents:--'the farmer of drws y coed's son was one misty day engaged as a shepherd on the side of the mountain, a little below cwm marchnad, and, as he crossed a rushy flat, he saw a wonderfully handsome little woman standing under a clump of rushes. her yellow and curly hair hung down in ringed locks, and her eyes were as blue as the clear sky, while her forehead was as white as the wavy face of a snowdrift that has nestled on the side of snowdon only a single night. her two plump cheeks were each like a red rose, and her pretty-lipped mouth might make an angel eager to kiss her. the youth approached her, filled with love for her, and, with delicacy and affection, asked her if he might converse with her. she smiled kindly, and reaching out her hand, said to him, "idol of my hopes, thou hast come at last!" they began to associate secretly, and to meet one another daily here and there on the moors around the banks of llyn y gader; at last, their love had waxed so strong that the young man could not be at peace either day or night, as he was always thinking of bella or humming to himself a verse of poetry about her charms. the yellow-haired youth was now and then lost for a long while, and nobody could divine his history. his acquaintances believed that he had been fascinated: at last the secret was found out. there were about llyn y dywarchen shady and concealing copses: it was there he was wont to go, and the she-elf would always be there awaiting him, and it was therefore that the place where they used to meet got to be called llwyn y forwyn, the maiden's grove. after fondly loving for a long time, it was resolved to wed; but it was needful to get the leave of the damsel's father. one moonlight night it was agreed to meet in the wood, and the appointment was duly kept by the young man, but there was no sign of the subterranean folks coming, until the moon disappeared behind the garn. then the two arrived, and the old man at once proceeded to say to the suitor: "thou shalt have my daughter on the condition that thou do not strike her with iron. if thou ever touch her with iron, she will no longer be thine, but shall return to her own." the man consented readily, and great was his joy. they were betrothed, and seldom was a handsomer pair seen at the altar. it was rumoured that a vast sum of money as dowry had arrived with the pretty lady at drws y coed on the evening of her nuptials. soon after, the mountain shepherd of cwm marchnad passed for a very rich and influential man. in the course of time they had children, and no happier people ever lived together than their parents. everything went on regularly and prosperously for a number of years: they became exceedingly wealthy, but the sweet is not to be had without the bitter. one day they both went out on horseback, and they happened to go near llyn y gader, when the wife's horse got into a bog and sank to his belly. after the husband had got bella off his back, he succeeded with much trouble in getting the horse out, and then he let him go. then he lifted her on the back of his own, but, unfortunately, in trying quickly to place her foot in the stirrup, the iron part of the same slipped, and struck her--or, rather, it touched her at the knee-joint. before they had made good half their way home, several of the diminutive tylwyth began to appear to them, and the sound of sweet singing was heard on the side of the hill. before the husband reached drws y coed his wife had left him, and it is supposed that she fled to llwyn y forwyn, and thence to the world below to faery. she left her dear little ones to the care of her beloved, and no more came near them. some say, however, that she sometimes contrived to see her beloved one in the following manner. as the law of her country did not permit her to frequent the earth with an earthly being, she and her mother invented a way of avoiding the one thing and of securing the other. a great piece of sod was set to float on the surface of the lake, and on that she used to be for long hours, freely conversing in tenderness with her consort on shore; by means of that plan they managed to live together until he breathed his last. their descendants owned drws y coed for many generations, and they intermarried and mixed with the people of the district. moreover, many a fierce fight took place in later times at the gwyl-fabsant at dolbenmaen or at penmorfa, because the men of eifionyd had a habit of annoying the people of pennant by calling them bellisians.' in a note, glasynys remarks that this tale is located in many districts without much variation, except in the names of the places; this, however, could not apply to the latter part, which suits llyn y dywarchen alone. with this account of the fairy wife frequenting a lake island to converse with her husband on shore, compare the irish story of the children of lir, who, though transformed into swans, were allowed to retain their power of reasoning and speaking, so that they used to converse from the surface of the water with their friends on the dry land: see joyce's old celtic romances, pp. x, - . now i return to another tale which was sent me by mr. william jones: unless i am mistaken it has not hitherto been published; so i give the welsh together with a free translation of it:-- yr oed ystori am fab braich y dinas a adrodai y diwedar hybarch elis owen o gefn y meusyd yn lled debyg i chwedl mab yr ystrad gan glasynys, sef ido hudo un o ferched y tylwyth teg i lawr o foel hebog, a'i chipio i mewn i'r ty drwy orthrech; ac wedi hynny efe a'i perswadiod i ymbriodi ag ef ar yr un telerau ag y gwnaeth mab yr ystrad. ond clywais hen fonediges o'r enw mrs. roberts, un o ferched yr isallt, oed lawer hyn na mr. owen, yn ei hadrod yn wahanol. yr oed yr hen wreigan hon yn credu yn nilysrwyd y chwedl, oblegid yr oed hi 'yn cofio rhai o'r teulu, waeth be' deudo neb.' dirwynnai ei hedau yn debyg i hyn:--yn yr amser gynt--ond o ran hynny pan oed hi yn ferch ifanc--yr oed llawer iawn o dylwyth teg yn trigo mewn rhyw ogofau yn y foel o gwm ystradllyn hyd i flaen y pennant. yr oed y tylwyth hwn yn llawer iawn hardach na dim a welid mewn un rhan arall o'r wlad. yr oedynt o ran maint yn fwy o lawer na'r rhai cyffredin, yn lan eu pryd tu hwnt i bawb, eu gwallt yn oleu fel llin, eu llygaid yn loyw leision. yr oedynt yn ymdangos mewn rhyw le neu gilyd yn chwareu, canu ac ymdifyru bob nos deg a goleu; a bydai swn eu canu yn denu y llanciau a'r merched ifainc i fyned i'w gweled; ac os bydent yn digwyd bod o bryd goleu hwy a ymgomient a hwynt, ond ni adawent i un person o liw tywyll dod yn agos atynt, eithr cilient ymaith o fford y cyfryw un. yrwan yr oed mab braich y dinas yn llanc hard, heini, bywiog ac o bryd glan, goleu a serchiadol. yr oed hwn yn hoff iawn o edrych ar y tylwyth, a bydai yn cael ymgom a rhai o honynt yn aml, ond yn bennaf ag un o'r merched oed yn rhagori arnynt oll mewn glendid a synwyr; ac o fynych gyfarfod syrthiod y dau mewn cariad a'u gilyd, eithr ni fynai hi ymbriodi ag ef, ond adawod fyned i'w wasanaeth, a chydunod i'w gyfarfod yn mhant--nid wyf yn cofio yr enw i gyd--drannoeth, oblegid nid oed wiw idi geisio myned gydag ef yn ngwyd y lleill. felly drannoeth aeth i fynu i'r foel, a chyfarfydod y rhian ef yn ol ei hadewid, ag aeth gydag ef adref, ac ymgymerod a'r swyd o laethwraig, a buan y dechreuod popeth lwydo o dan ei llaw: yr oed yr ymenyn a'r caws yn cynhydu beunyd. hir a thaer y bu'r llanc yn ceisio gandi briodi. a hi a adawod, os medrai ef gael allan ei henw. ni wydai mrs. roberts drwy ba ystryw y llwydod i gael hwnnw, ond hynny a fu, a daeth ef i'r ty un noswaith a galwod ar 'sibi,' a phan glywod hi ei henw, hi a aeth i lewygfa; ond pan daeth ati ei hun, hi a ymfodlonod i briodi ar yr amod nad oed ef i gyffwrd a hi a haiarn ac nad oed bollt haiarn i fod ar y drws na chlo ychwaith, a hynny a fu: priodwyd hwynt, a buont fyw yn gysurus am lawer o flynydoed, a ganwyd idynt amryw blant. y diwed a fu fel hyn: yr oed ef wedi myned un diwrnod i dori baich o frwyn at doi, a tharawod y cryman yn y baich i fyned adref; fel yr oed yn nesu at y gadlas, rhedod sibi i'w gyfarfod, a thaflod ynteu y baich brwyn yn direidus tu ag ati, a rhag ido dyfod ar ei thraws ceisiod ei atal a'i llaw, yr hon a gyffyrdod a'r cryman; a hi a diflannod o'r golwg yn y fan yn nghysgod y baich brwyn: ni welwyd ac ni chlywyd dim odiwrthi mwyach. 'there was a story respecting the son of the farmer of braich y dinas, which used to be told by the late respected mr. ellis owen, of cefn y meusyd, somewhat in the same way as that about the ystrad youth, as told by glasynys; that is to say, the young man enticed one of the damsels of the fair family to come down from moel hebog, and then he carried her by force into the house, and afterwards persuaded her to become his wife on the same conditions as the heir of ystrad did. but i have heard an old lady called mrs. roberts, who had been brought up at isallt, and who was older than mr. owen, relating it differently. this old woman believed in the truth of the story, as "she remembered some of the family, whatever anybody may say." she used to spin her yarn somewhat as follows:--in old times--but, for the matter of that, when she was a young woman--there were a great many of the fair family living in certain caves in the foel from cwm strállyn [ ] down to the upper part of pennant. this tylwyth was much handsomer than any seen in any other part of the country. in point of stature they were much bigger than the ordinary ones, fair of complexion beyond everybody, with hair that was as light as flax, and eyes that were of a clear blue colour. they showed themselves in one spot or another, engaged in playing, singing, and jollity every light night. the sound of their singing used to draw the lads and the young women to look at them; and, should they be of clear complexion, the fairies would chat with them; but they would let no person of a dark hue come near them: they moved away from such a one. now the young man of braich y dinas was a handsome, vigorous, and lively stripling of fair, clear, and attractive complexion. he was very fond of looking at the fair family, and had a chat with some of them often, but chiefly with one of the damsels, who surpassed all the rest in beauty and good sense. the result of frequently meeting was that they fell in love with one another, but she would not marry him. she promised, however, to go to service to him, and agreed to meet him at pant y--i have forgotten the rest of the name--the day after, as it would not do for her to go with him while the others happened to be looking on. so he went up the next day to the foel, and the damsel met him according to her promise, and went with him home, where she took to the duties of a dairymaid. soon everything began to prosper under her hand; the butter and the cheese were daily growing in quantity. long and importunately did the youth try to get her to marry him. she promised to do so provided he could find out her name. mrs. roberts did not know by what manoeuvre he succeeded in discovering it, but it was done, and he came into the house one night and called to "sibi," and when she heard her name she fainted away. when, however, she recovered her consciousness, she consented to marry on the condition that he was not to touch her with iron, and that there was not to be a bolt of iron on the door, or a lock either. it was agreed, and they were married; they lived together comfortably many years, and had children born to them. the end came thus: he had gone one day to cut a bundle of rushes for thatching, and planted the reaping-hook in the bundle to go home. as he drew towards the haggard, sibi ran out to meet him, and he wantonly threw the bundle of rushes towards her, when she, to prevent its hitting her, tried to stop it with her hand, which touched the reaping-hook. she vanished on the spot out of sight behind the bundle of rushes, and nothing more was seen or heard of her.' mr. ellis owen, alluded to above, was a highly respected gentleman, well known in north wales for his literary and antiquarian tastes. he was born in at cefn y meusyd near tremadoc, where he continued to live till the day of his death, which was january , . his literary remains, preceded by a short biography, were published in by mr. robert isaac jones of tremadoc; but it contains no fairy tales so far as i have been able to find. a tale which partially reminds one of that given by dewi glan ffrydlas respecting the corwrion midwife, referred to at p. above, was published by mr. w. jones in the fourth volume of the brython, p. : freely rendered into english, it runs thus:-- 'once on a time, when a midwife from nanhwynan had newly got to the hafodyd brithion to pursue her calling, a gentleman came to the door on a fine grey steed and bade her come with him at once. such was the authority with which he spoke, that the poor midwife durst not refuse to go, however much it was her duty to stay where she was. so she mounted behind him, and off they went, like the flight of a swallow, through cwmllan, over the bwlch, down nant yr aran, and over the gader to cwm hafod ruffyd, before the poor woman had time even to say oh! when they reached there, she saw before her a magnificent mansion, splendidly lit up with such lamps as she had never seen before. they entered the court, and a crowd of servants in expensive liveries came to meet them, and she was at once led through the great hall into a bed-chamber, the like of which she had never seen. there the mistress of the house, to whom she had been fetched, was awaiting her. the midwife got through her duties successfully, and stayed there until the lady had completely recovered, nor had she spent any part of her life so merrily, for there nought but festivity went on day and night: dancing, singing, and endless rejoicing reigned there. but merry as it was, she found that she must go, and the nobleman gave her a large purse, with the order not to open it until she had got into her own house. then he bade one of his servants escort her the same way that she had come. when she reached home she opened the purse, and, to her great joy, it was full of money: she lived happily on those earnings to the end of her life.' with this ending of the story one should contrast dewi glan ffrydlas' tale to which i have already alluded; and i may here refer to mr. sikes' british goblins, pp. - , for a tale differing from both dewi's and jones', in that the fairies are there made to appear as devils to the nurse, who had accidentally used a certain ointment which she was not to place near her own eyes. instead of being rewarded for her services she was only too glad to be deposited anyhow near her home. 'but,' as the story goes on to relate, 'very many years afterwards, being at a fair, she saw a man stealing something from a stall, and, with one corner of her eye, beheld her old master pushing the man's elbow. unthinkingly she said, "how are you, master? how are the children?" he said, "how did you see me?" she answered, "with the corner of my left eye." from that moment she was blind of her left eye, and lived many years with only her right.' such is the end of this tale given by mr. sikes. 'but the fair family did not,' mr. william jones goes on to say, 'always give mortals the means of good living: sometimes they made no little fun of them. once on a time the drws y coed man was going home from bedgelert fair, rather merry than sad, along the old road over the gader, when he saw, on coming near the top of the gader, a fine, handsome house near the road, in which there was a rare merrymaking. he knew perfectly well that there was no such a building anywhere on his way, and it made him think that he had lost his way and gone astray; so he resolved to turn into the house to ask for lodgings, which were given him. at once, when he entered, he took it to be a nuptial feast (neithior) by reason of the jollity, the singing, and the dancing. the house was full of young men, young women, and children, all merry, and exerting themselves to the utmost. the company began to disappear one by one, and he asked if he might go to bed, whereupon he was led to a splendid chamber, where there was a bed of the softest down with snow-white clothes on it. he stripped at once, went into it, and slept quietly enough till the morning. the first thing to come to his mind when he lay half asleep, half awake, was the jollity of the night before, and the fact of his sleeping in a splendid chamber in the strange house. he opened his eyes to survey his bedroom, but it was too wide: he was sleeping on the bare swamp, with a clump of rushes as his pillow, and the blue sky as his coverlet.' mr. jones mentions that, within his memory, there were still people in his neighbourhood who believed that the fairies stole unbaptized children and placed their own in their stead: he gives the following story about the farmer's wife of dyffryn mymbyr, near capel curig, and her infant:-- yr oed y wraig hon wedi rhodi genedigaeth i blentyn iach a heinif yn nechreu y cynheuaf ryw haf blin a thymhestlog: ac o herwyd fod y tydyn getyn o fford odiwrth lan na chapel, a'r hin mor hynod o lawiog, esgeuluswyd bedydio y plentyn yn yr amser arferol, sef cyn ei fod yn wyth niwrnod oed. ryw diwrnod teg yn nghanol y cynheuaf blin aeth y wraig allan i'r maes gyda'r rhelyw o'r teulu i geisio achub y cynheuaf, a gadawod y baban yn cysgu yn ei gryd o dan ofal ei nain, yr hon oed hen a methiantus, ac yn analluog i fyned lawer o gwmpas. syrthiod yr hen wreigan i gysgu, a thra yr oed hi felly, daeth y tylwyth i fewn, a chymerasant y baban o'r cryd, a dodasant un arall yn ei le. yn mhen ennyd dechreuod hwn erain a chwyno nes deffro y nain, ac aeth at y cryd, lle y gwelod gleiriach hen eidil crebachlyd yn ymstwyrian yn flin. 'o'r wchw!' ebai hi, 'y mae yr hen dylwyth wedi bod yma;' ac yn dioed chwythod yn y corn i alw y fam, yr hon a daeth yno yn diatreg; a phan glywod y crio yn y cryd, rhedod ato, a chodod y bychan i fynu heb sylwi arno, a hi a'i cofleidiod, a'i suod ac a'i swcrod at ei bronnau, ond nid oed dim yn tycio, parhau i nadu yn didor yr oed nes bron a hollti ei chalon; ac ni wydai pa beth i wneud i'w distewi. o'r diwed hi a edrychod arno, a gwelod nad oed yn debyg i'w mhebyn hi, ac aeth yn loes i'w chalon: edrychod arno drachefn, ond po fwyaf yr edrychai arno, hyllaf yn y byd oed hi yn ei weled; anfonod am ei gwr o'r cae, a gyrrod ef i ymholi am wr cyfarwyd yn rhywle er mwyn cael ei gynghor; ac ar ol hir holi dywedod rhywun wrtho fod person trawsfynyd yn gyfarwyd yn nghyfrinion yr ysprydion; ac efe a aeth ato, ac archod hwnnw ido gymeryd rhaw a'i gorchudio a halen, a thori llun croes yn yr halen; yna ei chymeryd i'r ystafell lle yr oed mab y tylwyth, ac ar ol agor y ffenestr, ei rhodi ar y tan hyd nes y llosgai yr halen; a hwy a wnaethant felly, a phan aeth yr halen yn eiriasboeth fe aeth yr erthyl croes ymaith yn anweledig idynt hwy, ac ar drothwy y drws hwy a gawsant y baban arall yn iach a dianaf. 'this woman had given birth to a healthy and vigorous child at the beginning of the harvest, one wretched and inclement summer. as the homestead was a considerable distance from church or chapel, and the weather so very rainy, it was neglected to baptize the child at the usual [ ] time, that is to say, before it was eight days old. one fine day, in the middle of this wretched harvest, the mother went to the field with the rest of the family to try to save the harvest, and left her baby sleeping in its cradle in its grandmother's charge, who was so aged and decrepit as to be unable to go much about. the old woman fell asleep, and, while she was in that state, the tylwyth teg came in and took away the baby, placing another in its stead. very shortly the latter began to whine and groan, so that the grandmother awoke: she went to the cradle, where she saw a slender, wizened old man moving restlessly and peevishly about. "alas! alas!" said she, "the old tylwyth have been here"; and she at once blew in the horn to call the mother home, who came without delay. as she heard the crying in the cradle, she ran towards it, and lifted the little one without looking at him; she hugged him, put him to her breast, and sang lullaby to him, but nothing was of any avail, as he continued, without stopping, to scream enough to break her heart; and she knew not what to do to calm him. at last she looked at him: she saw that he was not like her dear little boy, and her heart was pierced with agony. she looked at him again, and the more she examined him the uglier he seemed to her. she sent for her husband home from the field, and told him to search for a skilled man somewhere or other; and, after a long search, he was told by somebody that the parson of trawsfynyd was skilled in the secrets of the spirits; so he went to him. the latter bade him take a shovel and cover it with salt, and make the figure of the cross in the salt; then to take it to the chamber where the fairy child was, and, after taking care to open the window, to place the shovel on the fire until the salt was burnt. this was done, and when the salt had got white hot, the peevish abortion went away, seen of no one, and they found the other baby whole and unscathed at the doorstep.' fire was also made use of in scotland in order to detect a changeling and force him to quit: see the british association's report, , p. , where mr. gomme refers to mr. gregor's folk-lore of the north-east of scotland, pp. - . in answer to a question of mine with regard to gossamer, which is called in north wales edafed gwawn, 'gwawn yarn,' mr. jones told me in a letter, dated april, , that it used to be called rhaffau'r tylwyth teg, that is to say, the ropes of the fair family, which were associated with the diminutive, mischievous, and wanton kind of fairies who dwelt in marshy and rushy places, or among the fern and the heather. it used to be said that, if a man should lie down and fall asleep in any such a spot, the fairies would come and bind him with their ropes so that he could not move, and that they would then cover him with a sheet made of their ropes, which would make him invisible. this was illustrated by him by the following tale he had heard from his mother:-- clywais fy mam yn adrod chwedl am fab y ffrid, yr hwn wrth dychwelyd adref o ffair bedgelert yn rhywle odeutu pen cae'r gors a welod beth afrifed o'r tylwyth bach yn neidio a phrancio ar bennau y grug. efe a eistedod i lawr i edrych arnynt, a daeth hun drosto; ymollyngod i lawr a chysgod yn drwm. a phan oed felly, ymosodod yr holl lu arno a rhwymasant ef mor dyn fel na allasai symud; yna hwy a'i cudiasant ef a'r tuded gwawn fel na allai neb ei weled os digwydai ido lefain am help. yr oed ei deulu yn ei disgwyl adref yn gynnar y nos honno, ac wrth ei weled yn oedi yn hwyr, aethant yn anesmwyth am dano ac aethpwyd i'w gyfarfod, eithr ni welent dim odiwrtho, ac aed gan belled a'r pentref, lle en hyspyswyd ei fod wedi myned tuag adref yn gynnar gyda gwr hafod ruffyd. felly aed tua'r hafod i edrych a oed yno; ond dywedod gwr yr hafod eu bod wedi ymwahanu ar bont glan y gors, pawb tua'i fan ei hun. yna chwiliwyd yn fanwl bob ochr i'r fford odiyno i'r ffrid heb weled dim odiwrtho. buwyd yn chwilio yr holl ardal drwy y dyd drannoeth ond yn ofer. fod bynnag odeutu yr un amser nos drannoeth daeth y tylwyth ac a'i rhydhasant, ac yn fuan efe a deffrôd wedi cysgu o hono drwy y nos a'r dyd blaenorol. ar ol ido deffro ni wydai amcan daear yn mha le yr oed, a chrwydro y bu hyd ochrau y gader a'r gors fawr hyd nes y canod y ceiliog, pryd yr adnabu yn mha le yr oed, sef o fewn llai na chwarter milltir i'w gartref. 'i have heard my mother relating a tale about the son of the farmer of the ffrid, who, while on his way home from bedgelert fair, saw, somewhere near pen cae'r gors, an endless number of the diminutive family leaping and capering on the heather tops. he sat him down to look at them, and sleep came over him; he let himself down on the ground, and slept heavily. when he was so, the whole host attacked him, and they bound him so tightly that he could not have stirred; then they covered him with the gossamer sheet, so that nobody could see him in case he called for help. his people expected him home early that evening, and, as they found him delaying till late, they got uneasy about him. they went to meet him, but no trace of him was seen, and they went as far as the village, where they were informed that he had started home in good time with the farmer of hafod ruffyd. so they went to the hafod to see if he was there; but the farmer told them that they had parted on glan y gors bridge to go to their respective homes. a minute search was then made on both sides of the road from there to the ffrid, but without finding any trace of him. they kept searching the whole neighbourhood during the whole of the next day, but in vain. however, about the same time the following night the tylwyth came and liberated him, and he shortly woke up, after sleeping through the previous night and day. when he woke he had no idea where on earth he was; so he wandered about on the slopes of the gader and near the gors fawr until the cock crew, when he found where he was, namely, less than a quarter of a mile from his home.' the late mr. owen, of cefn meusyd, has already been alluded to. i have not been able to get at much of the folklore with which he was familiar, but, in reply to some questions of mine, mr. robert isaac jones of tremadoc, his biographer, and the publisher of the brython, so long as it existed, has kindly ransacked his memory. he writes to me in welsh to the following effect:-- 'i will tell you what i heard from mr. owen and my mother when i was a lad, about fifty-seven years ago. the former used to say that the people of pennant in eifionyd had a nickname, to wit, that of belsiaid y pennant, "the bellisians of the pennant"; that, when he was a boy, if anybody called out belsiaid y pennant at the penmorfa fair, every man jack of them would come out, and fighting always ensued. the antiquary used to explain it thus. some two or three hundred years ago, sir robert of the nant, one of sir richard bulkeley's ancestors, had a son and heir who was extravagant and wild. he married a gipsy, and they had children born to them; but, as the family regarded this marriage as a disgrace to their ancient stem, it is said that the father, the next time the vagabonds came round, gave a large sum of money to the father of the girl for taking her away with him. this having been done, the rumour was spread abroad that it was one of the fairies the youth had married, and that she had gone with him to catch a pony, when he threw the bridle at the beast to prevent it passing, and the iron of the bridle touched the wife; then that she at once disappeared, as the fairies always do so when touched with iron. however, the two children were put out to nurse, and the one of them, who was a girl, was brought up at plas y pennant, and her name was pelisha [ ]; her descendants remain to this day in the nant, and are called bellis, who are believed there, to this day, to be derived from the tylwyth teg. nothing offends them more than to be reminded of this.' mr. r. i. jones goes on to relate another tale as follows:-- dywedir fod lle a elwir yr hafod rugog mewn cwm anial yn y mynyd lle y bydai y tylwyth teg yn arferol a mynychu; ac y bydent yn trwblio'r hen wraig am fenthyg rhywbeth neu gilyd. dywedod hithau, 'cewch os caniatewch dau beth cyntaf--i'r peth cyntaf y cyffyrdaf ag ef wrth y drws dorri, a'r peth cyntaf y rhof fy llaw arno yn y ty estyn hanner llath.' yr oed carreg afael, fel ei gelwir, yn y mur wrth y drws ar ei fford, ac yr oed gandi defnyd syrcyn gwlanen yn rhy fyr o hanner llath. ond yn anffodus wrth dod a'i chawellad mawn i'r ty bu agos idi a syrthio: rhoes ei llaw ar ben ei chlun i ymarbed a thorod honno, a chan faint y boen cyffyrdod yny ty a'i thrwyn yr hwn a estynnod hanner llath. 'it is said that there was a place called hafod rugog in a wild hollow among the mountains, where the fair family were in the habit of resorting, and that they used to trouble the old woman of hafod for the loan of one thing and another. so she said, one day, "you shall have the loan if you will grant me two first things--that the first thing i touch at the door break, and that the first thing i put my hand on in the house be lengthened half a yard." there was a grip stone (carreg afael), as it is called, in the wall near the door, which was in her way, and she had in the house a piece of flannel for a jerkin which was half a yard too short. but, unfortunately, as she came, with her kreel full of turf on her back, to the house, she nearly fell down: she put her hand, in order to save herself, to her knee-joint, which then broke; and, owing to the pain, when she had got into the house, she touched her nose with her hand, when her nose grew half a yard longer.' mr. jones went on to notice how the old folks used to believe that the fairies were wont to appear in the marshes near cwellyn lake, not far from rhyd-du, to sing and dance, and that it was considered dangerous to approach them on those occasions lest one should be fascinated. as to the above-mentioned flannel and stone a folklorist asks me, why the old woman did not definitely mention them and say exactly what she wanted. the question is worth asking: i cannot answer it, but i mention it in the hope that somebody else will. ii. early in the year [ ] i had a small group of stories communicated to me by the rev. w. evans jones, rector of dolbenmaen, who tells me that the neighbourhood of the garn abounds in fairy tales. the scene of one of these is located near the source of afon fach blaen y cae, a tributary of the dwyfach. 'there a shepherd while looking after his flock came across a ring of rushes which he accidentally kicked, as the little people were coming out to dance. they detained him, and he married one of their number. he was told that he would live happily with them as long as he would not touch any instrument of iron. for years nothing happened to mar the peace and happiness of the family. one day, however, he unknowingly touched iron, with the consequence that both the wife and the children disappeared.' this differs remarkably from stories such as have been already mentioned at pp. , ; but until it is countenanced by stories from other sources, i can only treat it as a blurred version of a story of the more usual type, such as the next one which mr. evans jones has sent me as follows:-- 'a son of the farmer of blaen pennant married a fairy and they lived together happily for years, until one day he took a bridle to catch a horse, which proved to be rather an obstreperous animal, and in trying to prevent the horse passing, he threw the bridle at him, which, however, missed the animal and hit the wife so that the bit touched her, and she at once disappeared. the tradition goes, that their descendants are to this day living in the pennant valley; and if there is any unpleasantness between them and their neighbours they are taunted with being of the tylwyth teg family.' these are, i presume, the people nicknamed belsiaid, to which reference has already been made. the next story is about an old woman from garn dolbenmaen who was crossing y graig goch, 'the red rock,' 'when suddenly she came across a fairy sitting down with a very large number of gold coins by her. the old woman ventured to remark how wealthy she was: the fairy replied, wele dacw, "lo there!" and immediately disappeared.' this looks as if it ought to be a part of a longer story which mr. evans jones has not heard. the last bit of folklore which he has communicated is equally short, but of a rarer description: 'a fairy was in the habit of attending a certain family in the pennant valley every evening to put the children to bed; and as the fairy was poorly clad, the mistress of the house gave her a gown, which was found in the morning torn into shreds.' the displeasure of the fairy at being offered the gown is paralleled by that of the fenodyree or the manx brownie, described in chapter iv. as for the kind of service here ascribed to the pennant fairy, i know nothing exactly parallel. iii. the next four stories are to be found in cymru fu at pp. - , whence i have taken the liberty of translating them into english. they were contributed by glasynys, whose name has already occurred so often in connexion with these welsh legends, that the reader ought to know more about him; but i have been disappointed in my attempt to get a short account of his life to insert here. all i can say is, that i made his acquaintance in in anglesey: at that time he had a curacy near holyhead, and he was in the prime of life. he impressed me as an enthusiast for welsh antiquities: he was born and bred, i believe, in the neighbourhood of snowdon, and his death took place about ten years ago. it would be a convenience to the student of welsh folklore to have a brief biography of glasynys, but as yet nothing of the kind seems to have been written. ( ) 'when the people of the gors goch one evening had just gone to bed, they heard a great row and disturbance around the house. one could not comprehend at all what it was that made a noise at that time of night. both the husband and the wife had waked up, quite unable to make out what it might be. the children also woke, but no one could utter a word: their tongues had all stuck to the roof of their mouths. the husband, however, at last managed to move, and to ask, "who is there? what do you want?" then he was answered from without by a small silvery voice, "it is room we want to dress our children." the door was opened: a dozen small beings came in, and began to search for an earthen pitcher with water; there they remained for some hours, washing and titivating themselves. as the day was breaking, they went away, leaving behind them a fine present for the kindness they had received. often afterwards did the gors goch folks have the company of this family. but once there happened to be there a fine plump and pretty baby in his cradle. the fair family came, and, as the baby had not been baptized, they took the liberty of changing him for one of their own. they left behind in his stead an abominable creature that would do nothing but cry and scream every day of the week. the mother was nearly breaking her heart on account of the misfortune, and greatly afraid of telling anybody about it. but everybody got to see that there was something wrong at the gors goch, which was proved before long by the mother dying of longing for her child. the other children died broken-hearted after their mother, and the husband was left alone with the little elf without any one to comfort them. but shortly after, one began to resort again to the hearth of the gors goch to dress children, and the gift, which had formerly been silver money, became henceforth pure gold. in the course of a few years the elf became the heir of a large farm in north wales, and that is why the old people used to say, "shoe the elf with gold and he will grow" (fe daw gwidon yn fawr ond ei bedoli ag aur). that is the legend of the gors goch.' ( ) 'once when william ellis, of the gilwern, was fishing on the bank of cwm silin lake on a dark misty day, he had seen no living christian from the time when he left nantlle. but as he was in a happy mood, throwing his line, he beheld over against him in a clump of rushes a large crowd of people, or things in the shape of people about a foot in stature: they were engaged in leaping and dancing. he looked on for hours, and he never heard, as he said, such music in his life before. but william went too near them, when they threw a kind of dust into his eyes, and, while he was wiping it away, the little family took the opportunity of betaking themselves somewhere out of his sight, so that he neither saw nor heard anything more of them.' ( ) 'there is a similar story respecting a place called llyn y ffynhonnau. there was no end of jollity there, of dancing, harping, and fiddling, with the servant man of gelli ffrydau and his two dogs in the midst of the crowd, leaping and capering as nimbly as anybody else. at it they were for three days and three nights, without stopping; and had it not been for a skilled man, who lived not far off, and came to know how things were going on, the poor fellow would, without doubt, have danced himself to death. but he was rescued that time.' ( ) the fourth story is one, of which he says, that he heard it from his mother; but he has elaborated it in his usual fashion, and the proper names are undoubtedly his own:--'once on a time, a shepherd boy had gone up the mountain. that day, like many a day before and after, was exceedingly misty. now, though he was well acquainted with the place, he lost his way, and walked backwards and forwards for many a long hour. at last he got into a low rushy spot, where he saw before him many circular rings. he at once recalled the place, and began to fear the worst. he had heard, many hundreds of times, of the bitter experiences, in those rings, of many a shepherd who had happened to chance on the dancing place or the circles of the fair family. he hastened away as fast as ever he could, lest he should be ruined like the rest; but, though he exerted himself to the point of perspiring and losing his breath, there he was, and there he continued to be, a long time. at last he was met by an old fat little man, with merry blue eyes, who asked him what he was doing. he answered that he was trying to find his way home. "oh," said he, "come after me, and do not utter a word until i bid thee." this he did, following him on and on until they came to an oval stone; and the old fat little man lifted it, after tapping the middle of it three times with his walking-stick. there was there a narrow path with stairs visible here and there; and a sort of whitish light, inclining to grey and blue, was to be seen radiating from the stones. "follow me fearlessly," said the fat man; "no harm will be done thee." so on the poor youth went, as reluctantly as a dog to be hanged. but presently a fine, wooded, fertile country spread itself out before them, with well arranged mansions dotting it all over, while every kind of apparent magnificence met the eye and seemed to smile in the landscape; the bright waters of the rivers meandered in twisted streams, and the hills were covered with the luxuriant verdure of their grassy growth, and the mountains with a glossy fleece of smooth pasture. by the time they had reached the stout gentleman's mansion, the young man's senses had been bewildered by the sweet cadence of the music which the birds poured forth from the groves: then there was gold dazzling his eyes, and silver flashing on his sight. he saw there all kinds of musical instruments and all sorts of things for playing; but he could discern no inhabitant in the whole place; and, when he sat down to eat, the dishes on the table came to their places of themselves, and disappeared when one had done with them. this puzzled him beyond measure; moreover, he heard people talking together around him, but for the life of him he could see no one but his old friend. at length the fat man said to him: "thou canst now talk as much as it may please thee;" but, when he attempted to move his tongue, it would no more stir than if it had been a lump of ice, which greatly frightened him. at this point, a fine old lady, with health and benevolence beaming in her face, came to them and slightly smiled at the shepherd: the mother was followed by her three daughters, who were remarkably beautiful. they gazed with somewhat playful looks at him, and at length began to talk to him; but his tongue would not wag. then one of the girls came to him, and, playing with his yellow and curly locks, gave him a smart kiss on his ruddy lips. this loosened the string that bound his tongue, and he began to talk freely and eloquently. there he was, under the charm of that kiss, in the bliss of happiness; and there he remained a year and a day without knowing that he had passed more than a day among them; for he had got into a country where there was no reckoning of time. but by-and-by he began to feel somewhat of a longing to visit his old home, and asked the stout man if he might go. "stay a little yet," said he, "and thou shalt go for awhile." that passed: he stayed on, but olwen, for that was the name of the damsel that had kissed him, was very unwilling that he should depart. she looked sad every time he talked of going away; nor was he himself without feeling a sort of a cold thrill passing through him at the thought of leaving her. on condition, however, of returning, he obtained leave to go, provided with plenty of gold and silver, of trinkets and gems. when he reached home, nobody knew who he was: it had been the belief that he had been killed by another shepherd, who found it necessary to betake himself hastily far away to america, lest he should be hanged without delay. but here is einion lâs at home, and everybody wonders especially to see that the shepherd had got to look like a wealthy man: his manners, his dress, his language, and the treasure he had with him, all conspired to give him the air of a gentleman. he went back one thursday night, the first of the moon of that month, as suddenly as he had left the first time, and nobody knew whither. there was great joy in the country below when einion returned thither, and nobody was more rejoiced at it than olwen his beloved. the two were right impatient to get married; but it was necessary to do that quietly, for the family below hated nothing more than fuss and noise; so, in a sort of a half-secret fashion, they were wedded. einion was very desirous to go once more among his own people, accompanied, to be sure, by his wife. after he had been long entreating the old man for leave, they set out on two white ponies, that were, in fact, more like snow than anything else in point of colour. so he arrived with his consort in his old home, and it was the opinion of all that einion's wife was the handsomest person they had anywhere seen. whilst at home, a son was born to them, to whom they gave the name of taliessin. einion was now in the enjoyment of high repute, and his wife received due respect. their wealth was immense, and soon they acquired a large estate; but it was not long till people began to inquire after the pedigree of einion's wife: the country was of opinion that it was not the right thing to be without a pedigree. einion was questioned about it, but without giving any satisfactory answer, and one came to the conclusion that she was one of the fair family (tylwyth teg). "certainly," replied einion, "there can be no doubt that she comes from a very fair family; for she has two sisters who are as fair as she, and, if you saw them together, you would admit that name to be a most fitting one." this, then, is the reason why the remarkable family in the land of enchantment and glamour (hud a lledrith) is called the fair family.' the two next tales of glasynys' appear in cymru fu, at pp. - ; the first of them is to be compared with one already related (pp. , ), while the other is unlike anything that i can now recall:-- ( ) 'cwmllan was the principal resort of the fair family, and the shepherds of hafod llan used to see them daily in the ages of faith gone by. once, on a misty afternoon, one of them had been searching for sheep towards nant y bettws. when he had crossed bwlch cwmllan, and was hastening laboriously down, he saw an endless number of little folks singing and dancing in a lively and light-footed fashion, while the handsomest girls he had ever seen anywhere were at it preparing a banquet. he went to them and had a share of their dainties, and it seemed to him that he had never in his life tasted anything approaching their dishes. when the twilight came, they spread their tents, and the man never before saw such beauty and ingenuity. they gave him a soft bed of yielding down, with sheets of the finest linen, and he went to rest as proud as if he had been a prince. but, alas! next morning, after all the jollity and sham splendour, the poor man, when he opened his eyes, found that his bed was but a bush of bulrushes, and his pillow a clump of moss. nevertheless, he found silver money in his shoes, and afterwards he continued for a long time to find, every week, a piece of coined money between two stones near the spot where he had slept. one day, however, he told a friend of his the secret respecting the money, and he never found any more.' ( ) 'another of these shepherds was one day urging his dog at the sheep in cwmllan, when he heard a kind of low noise in the cleft of a rock. he turned to look, when he found there some kind of a creature weeping plenteously. he approached, and drew out a wee lass; very shortly afterwards two middle-aged men came to him to thank him for his kindness, and, when about to part, one of them gave him a walking-stick, as a souvenir of his good deed. the year after this, every sheep in his possession had two ewe-lambs; and so his sheep continued to breed for some years. but he had stayed one evening in the village until it was rather late, and there hardly ever was a more tempestuous night than that: the wind howled, and the clouds shed their contents in sheets of rain, while the darkness was such that next to nothing could be seen. as he was crossing the river that comes down from cwmllan, where its flood was sweeping all before it in a terrible current, he somehow let go the walking-stick from his hand; and when one went next morning up the cwm, it was found that nearly all the sheep had been swept away by the flood, and that the farmer's wealth had gone almost as it came--with the walking-stick.' the shorter versions given by glasynys are probably more nearly given as he heard them, than the longer ones, which may be suspected of having been a good deal spun out by him; but there is probably very little in any of them of his own invention, though the question whence he got his materials in each instance may be difficult to answer. in one this is quite clear, though he does not state it, namely the story of the sojourn of elfod the shepherd in fairyland, as given in cymru fu, p. : it is no other than a second or third-hand reproduction of that recorded by giraldus concerning a certain eliodorus, a twelfth-century cleric in the diocese of st. david's [ ]. but the longest tale published by glasynys is the one about a mermaid: see cymru fu, pp. - . where he got this from i have not been able to find out, but it has probably been pieced together from various sources. i feel sure that some of the materials at least were welsh, besides the characters known to welsh mythology as nefyd naf neifion, gwyn ab nud, gwydion ab dôn, dylan, and ceridwen, who have been recklessly introduced into it. he locates it, apparently, somewhere on the coast of carnarvonshire, the chief scene being called ogof deio or david's cave, which so far as i know is not an actual name, but one suggested by 'david jones' locker' as sailors' slang for the sea. in hopes that somebody will communicate to me any bits of this tale that happen to be still current on the welsh coast, i give an abstract of it here:-- 'once upon a time, a poor fisherman made the acquaintance of a mermaid in a cave on the sea-coast; at first she screeched wildly, but, when she got a little calmer, she told him to go off out of the way of her brother, and to return betimes the day after. in getting away, he was tossed into the sea, and tossed out on the land with a rope, which had got wound about his waist; and on pulling at this he got ashore a coffer full of treasure, which he spent the night in carrying home. he was somewhat late in revisiting the cave the next day, and saw no mermaid come there to meet him according to her promise. but the following night he was roused out of his sleep by a visit from her at his home, when she told him to come in time next day. on his way thither, he learnt from some fishermen that they had been labouring in vain during the night, as a great big mermaid had opened their nets in order to pick the best fish, while she let the rest escape. when he reached the cave he found the mermaid there combing her hair: she surprised him by telling him that she had come to live among the inhabitants of the land, though she was, according to her own account, a king's daughter. she was no longer stark naked, but dressed like a lady: in one hand she held a diadem of pure gold, and in the other a cap of wonderful workmanship, the former of which she placed on her head, while she handed the latter to ifan morgan, with the order that he should keep it. then she related to him how she had noticed him when he was a ruddy boy, out fishing in his father's white boat, and heard him sing a song which made her love him, and how she had tried to repeat this song at her father's court, where everybody wanted to get it. many a time, she said, she had been anxiously listening if she might hear it again, but all in vain. so she had obtained permission from her family to come with her treasures and see if he would not teach it her; but she soon saw that she would not succeed without appearing in the form in which she now was. after saying that her name was nefyn, daughter of nefyd naf neifion, and niece to gwyn son of nud, and gwydion son of dôn, she calmed his feelings on the subject of the humble cottage in which he lived. presently he asked her to be his wife, and she consented on the condition that he should always keep the cap she had given him out of her sight and teach her the song. they were married and lived happily together, and had children born them five times, a son and a daughter each time; they frequently went to the cave, and no one knew what treasures they had there; but once on a time they went out in a boat pleasuring, as was their wont, with six or seven of the children accompanying them, and when they were far from the land a great storm arose; besides the usual accompaniments of a storm at sea, most unearthly screeches and noises were heard, which frightened the children and made their mother look uncomfortable; but presently she bent her head over the side of the boat, and whispered something they did not catch: to their surprise the sea was instantly calm. they got home comfortably, but the elder children were puzzled greatly by their mother's influence over the sea, and it was not long after this till they so teased some ill-natured old women, that the latter told them all about the uncanny origin of their mother. the eldest boy was vexed at this, and remembered how his mother had spoken to somebody near the boat at sea, and that he was never allowed to go with his parents to ogof deio. he recalled, also, his mother's account of the strange countries she had seen. once there came also to ifan morgan's home, which was now a mansion, a visitor whom the children were not even allowed to see; and one night, when the young moon had sunk behind the western horizon, ifan and his wife went quietly out of the house, telling a servant that they would not return for three weeks or a month: this was overheard by the eldest son. so he followed them very quietly until he saw them on the strand, where he beheld his mother casting a sort of leather mantle round herself and his father, and both of them threw themselves into the hollow of a billow that came to fetch them. the son went home, broke his heart, and died in nine days at finding out that his mother was a mermaid; and, on seeing her brother dead, his twin sister went and threw herself into the sea; but, instead of being drowned, she was taken up on his steed by a fine looking knight, who then galloped away over the waves as if they had been dry and level land. the servants were in doubt what to do, now that nefyd morgan was dead and eilonwy had thrown herself into the sea; but tegid, the second son, who feared nothing, said that nefyd's body should be taken to the strand, as somebody was likely to come to fetch it for burial among his mother's family. at midnight a knight arrived, who said the funeral was to be at three that morning, and told them that their brother would come back to them, as gwydion ab dôn was going to give him a heart that no weight could break, that eilonwy was soon to be wedded to one of the finest and bravest of the knights of gwerdonau llion, and that their parents were with gwyn ab nud in the gwaelodion. the body was accordingly taken to the beach, and, as soon as the wave touched it, out of his coffin leaped nefyd like a porpoise. he was seen then to walk away arm in arm with gwydion ab dôn to a ship that was in waiting, and most enchanting music was heard by those on shore; but soon the ship sailed away, hardly touching the tops of the billows. after a year and a day had elapsed ifan morgan, the father, came home, looking much better and more gentlemanly than he had ever done before; he had never spoken of nefyn, his wife, until tegid one day asked him what about his mother; she had gone, he said, in search of eilonwy, who had run away from her husband in gwerdonau llion, with glanfryd ab gloywfraint. she would be back soon, he thought, and describe to them all the wonders they had seen. ifan morgan went to bed that night, and was found dead in it in the morning; it was thought that his death had been caused by a black knight, who had been seen haunting the place at midnight for some time, and always disappearing, when pursued, into a well that bubbled forth in a dark recess near at hand. the day of ifan morgan's funeral, nefyn, his wife, returned, and bewailed him with many tears; she was never more seen on the dry land. tegid had now the charge of the family, and he conducted himself in all things as behoved a man and a gentleman of high principles and great generosity. he was very wealthy, but often grieved by the thought of his father's murder. one day, when he and two of his brothers were out in a boat fishing in the neighbouring bay, they were driven by the wind to the most wonderful spot they had ever seen. the sea there was as smooth as glass, and as bright as the clearest light, while beneath it, and not far from them, they saw a most splendid country with fertile fields and dales covered with pastures, with flowery hedges, groves clad in their green foliage, and forests gently waving their leafy luxuriance, with rivers lazily contemplating their own tortuous courses, and with mansions here and there of the most beautiful and ingenious description; and presently they saw that the inhabitants amused themselves with all kinds of merriment and frolicking, and that here and there they had music and engaged themselves in the most energetic dancing; in fact, the rippling waves seemed to have absorbed their fill of the music, so that the faint echo of it, as gently given forth by the waves, never ceased to charm their ears until they reached the shore. that night the three brothers had the same dream, namely that the black knight who had throttled their father was in hiding in a cave on the coast: so they made for the cave in the morning, but the black knight fled from them and galloped off on the waves as if he had been riding for amusement over a meadow. that day their sisters, on returning home from school, had to cross a piece of sea, when a tempest arose and sunk the vessel, drowning all on board, and the brothers ascribed this to the black knight. about this time there was great consternation among the fishermen on account of a sea-serpent that twined itself about the rocks near the caves, and nothing would do but that tegid and his brothers should go forth to kill it; but when one day they came near the spot frequented by it, they heard a deep voice saying to them, "do not kill your sister," so they wondered greatly and suddenly went home. but that night tegid returned there alone, and called his sister by her name, and after waiting a long while she crept towards him in the shape of a sea-serpent, and said that she must remain some time in that form on account of her having run away with one who was not her husband; she went on to say that she had seen their sisters walking with their mother, and their father would soon be in the cave. but all of a sudden there came the black knight, who unsheathed a sword that looked like a flame of fire, and began to cut the sea-serpent into a thousand bits, which united, however, as fast as he cut it, and became as whole as before. the end was that the monster twisted itself in a coil round his throat and bit him terribly in his breast. at this point a white knight comes and runs him through with his spear, so that he fell instantly, while the white knight went off hurriedly with the sea-serpent in a coil round his neck. tegid ran away for his life, but not before a monster more terrible than anything he had ever seen had begun to attack him. it haunted him in all kinds of ways: sometimes it would be like a sea, but tegid was able to swim: sometimes it would be a mountain of ice, but tegid was able to climb it: and sometimes it was like a furnace of intense fire, but the heat had no effect on him. but it appeared mostly as a combination of the beast of prey and the venomous reptile. suddenly, however, a young man appeared, taking hold of tegid's arm and encouraging him, when the monster fled away screeching, and a host of knights in splendid array and on proudly prancing horses came to him: among them he found his brothers, and he went with them to his mother's country. he was especially welcome there, and he found all happy and present save his father only, whom he thought of fetching from the world above, having in fact got leave to do so from his grandfather. his mother and his brothers went with him to search for his father's body, and with him came gwydion ab dôn and gwyn ab nud, but he would not be wakened. so tegid, who loved his father greatly, asked leave to remain on his father's grave, where he remains to this day. his mother is wont to come there to soothe him, and his brothers send him gifts, while he sends his gifts to nefyd naf neifion, his grandfather; it is also said that his twin-sister, ceridwen, has long since come to live near him, to make the glad gladder and the pretty prettier, and to maintain her dignity and honour in peace and tranquillity.' the latter part of this tale, the mention of ceridwen, invoked by the bards as the genius presiding over their profession, and of tegid remaining on his father's grave, is evidently a reference to llyn tegid, or bala lake, and to the legend of taliessin in the so-called hanes or history of taliessin, published at the end of the third volume of lady charlotte guest's mabinogion. so the story has undoubtedly been pieced together, but not all invented, as is proved by the reference to the curious cap which the husband was to keep out of the sight of his mermaid wife. in irish legends this cap has particular importance attached to it, of which glasynys cannot have been aware, for he knew of no use to make of it. the teaching of the song to the wife is not mentioned after the marriage; and the introduction of it at all is remarkable: at any rate i have never noticed anything parallel to it in other tales. the incident of the tempest, when the mermaid spoke to somebody by the side of the boat, reminds one of undine during the trip on the danube. it is, perhaps, useless to go into details till one has ascertained how much of the story has been based on genuine welsh folklore. but, while i am on this point, i venture to append here an irish tale, which will serve to explain the meaning of the mermaid's cap, as necessary to her comfort in the water world. i am indebted for it to the kindness of dr. norman moore, of st. bartholomew's hospital, who tells me, in a letter dated march , , that he and the miss raynells of killynon heard it from an old woman named mrs. dolan, who lived on the property of the late mr. cooke of cookesborough, in westmeath. the following was her tale:--'there was a man named mahon had a farm on the edge of loch owel. he noticed that his corn was trampled, and he sat up all night to watch it. he saw horses, colts and fillies rather, come up out of the lake and trample it. he chased them, and they fled into the lake. the next night he saw them again, and among them a beautiful girl with a cap of salmon skin on her head, and it shone in the moonlight; and he caught her and embraced her, and carried her off to his house and married her, and she was a very good housewife, as all those lake people are, and kept his house beautifully; and one day in the harvest, when the men were in the fields, she went into the house, and there she looked on the hurdle for some lard to make colcannon [ ] for the men, and she saw her old cap of fish skin, and she put it on her head and ran straight down into the lake and was never seen any more, and mahon he was terribly grieved, and he died soon after of a decline. she had had three children, and i often saw them in the mullingar market. they were farmers, too, on loch owel.' iv. let me now return to the fresh-water fairies of snowdon and give a reference to pennant's tours in wales: in the edition published at carnarvon in we are told, ii. , how mr. pennant learned 'that, in fairy days, those diminutive gentry kept their revels' on the margins of the snowdon lake, called llyn coch. there is no legend now extant, so far as i can ascertain, about the llyn coch fairies. so i proceed to append a legend differing considerably from all the foregoing: i owe it to the kindness of my friend mr. howell thomas, of the local government board. it was written out by mr. g. b. gattie, and i take the liberty of prefixing to it his letter to mr. thomas, dated walham grove, london, s.w., april , . the letter runs as follows:-- 'i had quite forgotten the enclosed, which i had jotted down during my recent illness, and ought to have sent you long ago. of course, the wording is very rough, as no care has been taken on that point. it is interesting, as being another version of a very pretty old legend which my mother used to repeat. she was descended from a very old north welsh family; indeed, i believe my esteemed grandfather went so far as to trace his descent from the great patriot, owen glendower himself! my mother delighted not only in the ancient folklore legends and fairy tales of the principality, with which she was perfectly familiar, but especially in the lovely national melodies, all of which she knew by heart; and, being highly accomplished, would never tire of playing or singing them. you will see the legend is, in the main, much as related by professor rhys, though differing somewhat in the singular terms of the marriage contract. the scene of the legend, as related by my late mother, was, of course, a lake, the welsh name of which i have, unfortunately, forgotten, but it was somewhere, i think, near llanberis, and the hero a stalwart young farmer.' the legend itself reads as follows:-- 'one hot day, the farmer, riding by the lake, took his horse into the water to drink, and, whilst looking straight down over his horse's ears into the smooth surface, he became aware of a most lovely face, just beneath the tide, looking up archly at him. quite bewildered, he earnestly beckoned, and by degrees the head and shoulders which belonged to the face emerged from the water. overcome with emotion, and nearly maddened by the blaze of beauty so suddenly put before him, he leaped from his horse and rushed wildly into the lake to try to clasp the lovely vision to his heart. as this was a clear case of "love at first sight," the poor young man was not, of course, answerable for his actions. but the vision had vanished beneath the waves, to instantly reappear, however, a yard or two off, with the most provoking of smiles, and holding out her beautiful white hands towards her admirer, but slipping off into deep water the moment he approached. 'for many days the young farmer frequented the lake, but without again seeing the beautiful naiad, until one day he sat down by the margin hoping that she would appear, and yet dreading her appearance, for this latter to him simply meant loss of all peace. yet he rushed on his fate, like the love-sick shepherd in the old italian romance, who watched the sleeping beauty, yet dreaded her awakening:--io perderò la pace, quando si sveglierà! 'the young man had brought the remains of his frugal dinner with him, and was quietly munching, by way of dessert, an apple of rare and delicious quality, from a tree which grew upon a neighbouring estate. suddenly the lady appeared in all her rare beauty almost close to him, and begged him to "throw" her one of his apples. this was altogether too much, and he replied by holding out the tempting morsel, exhibiting its beautiful red and green sides, saying that, if she really wanted it, she must fetch it herself. upon this she came up quite close, and, as she took the apple from his left hand, he dexterously seized tight hold of her with his right, and held her fast. she, however, nothing daunted, bawled lustily, at the top of her voice, for help, and made such an outrageous noise, that at length a most respectable looking old gentleman appeared suddenly out of the midst of the lake. he had a superb white beard, and was simply and classically attired merely in a single wreath of beautiful water-lilies wound round his loins, which was possibly his summer costume, the weather being hot. he politely requested to know what was the matter, and what the young farmer wanted with his daughter. the case was thereupon explained, but not without the usual amount of nervous trepidation which usually happens to love-sick swains when called into the awful presence of "papa" to "explain their intentions!" 'after a long parley the lady, at length, agreed to become the young man's wife on two conditions, which he was to solemnly promise to keep. these conditions were that he was never to strike her with steel or clay (earth), conditions to which the young man very readily assented. as these were primitive days, when people were happy and honest, there were no lawyers to encumber the holy estate with lengthy settlements, and to fill their own pockets with heavy fees; matters were therefore soon settled, and the lady married to the young farmer on the spot by the very respectable old lake deity, her papa. 'the story goes on to say that the union was followed by two sons and two daughters. the eldest son became a great physician, and all his descendants after him were celebrated for their great proficiency in the noble healing art. the second son was a mighty craftsman in all works appertaining to the manufacture and use of iron and metals. indeed it has been hinted that, his little corracle of bull's hide having become old and unsafe, he conceived the brilliant idea of making one of thin iron. this he actually accomplished, and, to the intense amazement of the wondering populace, he constantly used it for fishing, or other purposes, on the lake, where he paddled about in perfect security. this important fact ought to be more generally known, as it gives him a fair claim to the introduction of iron ship-building, pace the shades of beaufort and brunel. 'of the two daughters, one is said to have invented the small ten-stringed harp, and the other the spinning-wheel. thus were introduced the arts of medicine, manufactures, music, and woollen work. 'as the old ballad says, applying the quotation to the father and mother:-- they lived for more than forty year right long and happilie! 'one day it happened that the wife expressed a great wish for some of those same delicious apples of which she was so fond, and of which their neighbour often sent them a supply. off went the farmer, like a good husband that he was, and brought back, not only some apples, but a beautiful young sapling, seven or eight feet high, bearing the same apple, as a present from their friend. this they at once proceeded to set, he digging and she holding; but the hole not being quite deep enough he again set to work, with increased energy, with his spade, and stooping very low threw out the last shovelful over his shoulder--alas! without looking--full into the breast of his wife. she dropped the sapling and solemnly warned him that one of the two conditions of their marriage contract had been broken. accident was pleaded, but in vain; there was the unfortunate fact--he had struck her with clay! looking upon the sapling as the cause of this great trouble he determined to return it forthwith to his kind neighbour. taking a bridle in his hand he proceeded to the field to catch his horse, his wife kindly helping him. they both ran up, one on each side, and, as the unruly steed showed no signs of stopping, the husband attempted to throw the bridle over his head. not having visited mexico in his travels, and thereby learned the use of the lasso, he missed his horse's head and--misfortune of misfortunes--struck his wife in the face with the iron bit, thus breaking the second condition. he had struck her with steel. she no sooner received the blow than--like esau--she "cried with a great and exceeding bitter cry," and bidding her husband a last farewell, fled down the hill with lightning speed, dashed into the lake, and disappeared beneath the smooth and glassy waters! thus, it may be said that, if an apple--indirectly--occasioned the beginning of her married life, so an apple brought about its sad termination.' such is mr. gattie's tale, and to him probably is to be traced its literary trimming; but even when it is stripped of that accessory, it leaves us with difficulties of somewhat the same order as those attaching to some of the stories which have passed through the hands of glasynys. however, the substance of it seems to be genuine, and to prove that there has been a northwalian tradition which traced the medical art to a lake lady like the egeria of the physicians of mydfai. v. allusion has already been made to the afanc story, and it is convenient to give it before proceeding any further. the cambrian journal for , pp. - , gives it in a letter of edward llwyd's dated , and contributed to that periodical by the late canon robert williams, of rhyd y croesau, who copied it from the original letter in his possession [ ], and here follows a translation into english of the part of it which concerns llyn yr afanc [ ], a pool on the river conwy, above bettws y coed and opposite capel garmon:-- 'i suppose it very probable that you have heard speak of llyn yr afanc, "the afanc's pool," and that i therefore need not trouble to inform you where it stands. i think, also, that you know, if one may trust what the country people say, that it was a girl that enticed the afanc to come out of his abode, namely the pool, so as to be bound with iron chains, whilst he slumbered with his head on her knees, and with the grip of one hand on her breast. when he woke from his nap and perceived what had been done to him, he got up suddenly and hurried to his old refuge, taking with him in his claw the breast of his sweetheart. it was then seen that it was well the chain was long enough to be fastened to oxen that pulled him out of the pool. thereupon a considerable dispute arose among some of the people, each asserting that he had taken a great weight on himself and pulled far harder than anybody else. "no," said another, "it was i," &c. and whilst they were wrangling in this way, the report goes that the afanc answered them, and silenced their discontent by saying-- oni bae y dai ag a dyn ni dactha'r afanc byth o'r llyn. had it not been for the oxen pulling, the afanc had never left the pool. 'you must understand that some take the afanc to be a corporeal demon; but i am sufficiently satisfied that there is an animal of the same name, which is called in english a bever, seeing that the term ceillie'r afanc signifies bever stones. i know not what kind of oxen those in question were, but it is related that they were twins; nor do i know why they were called ychain mannog or ychain bannog. but peradventure they were called ychain bannog in reference to their having had many a fattening, or fattening on fattening (having been for many a year fattened). yet the word bannog is not a good, suitable word to signify fattened, as bannog is nought else than what has been made exceeding thick by beating [or fulling], as one says of a thick blanket made of coarse yarn (y gwrthban tew-bannog), the thick bannog [ ] blanket. whilst i was dawdling behind talking about this, the oxen had proceeded very far, and i did not find their footmarks as they came through portions of the parish of dolyd-elan (luedog) until i reached a pass called ever since bwlch rhiw'r ychen, "the pass of the slope of the oxen," between the upper parts of dolydelan and the upper part of nanhwynen. in coming over this pass one of the oxen dropped one of its eyes on an open spot, which for that reason is called gwaun lygad ych, "the moor of the ox's eye." the place where the eye fell has become a pool, which is by this time known as pwll llygad ych, "the pool of the ox's eye," which is at no time dry, though no water rises in it or flows into it except when rain falls; nor is there any flowing out of it during dry weather. it is always of the same depth; that is, it reaches about one's knee-joint, according to those who have paid attention to that for a considerable number of years. there is a harp melody, which not all musicians know: it is known as the ychain mannog air, and it has a piteous effect on the ear, being as plaintive as were the groanings of these ychain under the weight of the afanc, especially when one of the pair lost an eye. they pulled him up to llyn cwm ffynnon las, "the lake of the dingle of the green well," to which he was consigned, for the reason, peradventure, that some believed that there were in that lake uncanny things already in store. in fact, it was but fitting that he should be permitted to go to his kind. but whether there were uncanny things in it before or not, many think that there is nothing good in it now, as you will understand from what follows. there is much talk of llyn cwm ffynnon las besides the fact that it is always free from ice, except in one corner where the peat water of clear pools comes into it, and that it has also a variety of dismal hues. the cause of this is, as i suppose, to be sought in the various hues of the rocks surrounding it; and the fact that a whirlwind makes its water mixed, which is enough to give any lake a disagreeable colour. nothing swims on it without danger, and i am not sure that it would be very safe for a bird to fly across it or not. throw a rag into its water and it will go to the bottom, and i have with my own ears heard a man saying that he saw a goat taking to this lake in order to avoid being caught, and that as soon as the animal went into the water, it turned round and round, as if it had been a top, until it was drowned.... some mention that, as some great man was hunting in the snowdon district (eryri), a stag, to avoid the hounds when they were pressing on him, and as is the habit of stags to defend themselves, made his escape into this lake: the hunters had hardly time to turn round before they saw the stag's antlers (mwnglws) coming to the surface, but nothing more have they ever seen.... a young woman has been seen to come out of this lake to wash clothes, and when she had done she folded the clothes, and taking them under her arm went back into the lake. one man, whose brother is still alive and well, beheld in a canoe, on this same lake still, an angler with a red cap on his head; but the man died within a few days, having not been in his right mind during that time. most people regard this as the real truth, and, as for myself, i cannot refuse to believe that such a vision might not cause a man to become so bewildered as to force on a disease ending with his death....' the name llyn cwm ffynnon las would have led one to suppose that the pool meant is the one given in the ordnance maps as llyn y cwm ffynnon, and situated in the mountains between pen y gwryd and the upper valley of llanberis; but from the writer on the parish of bedgelert in the brython for , pp. - , it appears that this is not so, and that the tarn meant was in the upper reach of cwm dyli, and was known as llyn y ffynnon las, 'lake of the green well,' about which he has a good deal to say in the same strain as that of llwyd in the letter already cited. among other things he remarks that it is a very deep tarn, and that its bottom has been ascertained to be lower than the surface of llyn llydaw, which lies feet lower. and as to the afanc, he remarks that the inhabitants of nant conwy and the lower portions of the parish of dolwydelan, having frequent troubles and losses inflicted on them by a huge monster in the river conwy, near bettws y coed, tried to kill it but in vain, as no harpoon, no arrow or spear made any impression whatsoever on the brute's hide; so it was resolved to drag it away as in the llwyd story. i learn from mr. pierce (elis o'r nant), of dolwydelan, that the lake is variously known as llyn (cwm) ffynnon las, and llyn glas or glaslyn: this last is the form which i find in the maps. it is to be noticed that the nant conwy people, by dragging the afanc there, got him beyond their own watershed, so that he could no more cause floods in the conwy. here, as promised at p. , i append lewis glyn cothi's words as to the afanc in llyn syfadon. the bard is dilating in the poem, where they occur, on his affection for his friend llywelyn ab gwilym ab thomas vaughan, of bryn hafod in the vale of towy, and averring that it would be as hard to induce him to quit his friend's hospitable home, as it was to get the afanc away from the lake of syfadon, as follows:-- yr avanc er ei ovyn wyv yn llech ar vin y llyn; o dòn llyn syfadon vo ni thynwyd ban aeth yno: ni'm tyn mèn nag ychain gwaith, odiyma hedyw ymaith. [ ] the afanc am i, who, sought for, bides in hiding on the edge of the lake; out of the waters of syfadon mere was he not drawn, once he got there. so with me: nor wain nor oxen wont to toil me to-day will draw from here forth. from this passage it would seem that the syfadon story contemplated the afanc being taken away from the lake in a cart or waggon drawn by oxen; but whether driven by hu, or by whom, one is not told. however, the story must have represented the undertaking as a failure, and the afanc as remaining in his lake: had it been otherwise it would be hard to see the point of the comparison. vi. the parish of llanfachreth and its traditions have been the subject of some contributions to the first volume of the taliesin published at ruthin in - , pp. - , by a writer who calls himself cofiadur. it was glasynys, i believe, for the style seems to be his: he pretends to copy from an old manuscript of hugh bifan's--both the manuscript and its owner were fictions of glasynys' as i am told. these jottings contain two or three items about the fairies which seem to be genuine:-- 'the bottom of llyn cynnwch, on the nannau estate, is level with the hearth-stone of the house of dôl y clochyd. its depth was found out owing to the sweetheart of one of siwsi's girls having lost his way to her from nannau, where he was a servant. the poor man had fallen into the lake, and gone down and down, when he found it becoming clearer the lower he got, until at last he alighted on a level spot where everybody and everything looked much as he had observed on the dry land. when he had reached the bottom of the lake, a short fat old gentleman came to him and asked his business, when he told him how it happened that he had come. he met with great welcome, and he stayed there a month without knowing that he had been there three days, and when he was going to leave, he was led out to his beloved by the inhabitants of the lake bottom. he asserted that the whole way was level except in one place, where they descended about a fathom into the ground; but, he added, it was necessary to ascend about as much to reach the hearth-stone of dôl y clochyd. the most wonderful thing, however, was that the stone lifted itself as he came up from the subterranean road towards it. it was thus the sweetheart arrived there one evening, when the girl was by the fire weeping for him. siwsi had been out some days before, and she knew all about it though she said nothing to anybody. this, then, was the way in which the depth of llyn cynnwch came to be known.' then he has a few sentences about an old house called ceimarch:--'ceimarch was an old mansion of considerable repute, and in old times it was considered next to nannau in point of importance in the whole district. there was a deep ditch round it, which was always kept full of water, with the view of keeping off vagabonds and thieves, as well as other lawless folks, that they might not take the inmates by surprise. but, in distant ages, this place was very noted for the frequent visits paid it by the fair family. they used to come to the ditch to wash themselves, and to cross the water in boats made of the bark of the rowan-tree [ ], or else birch, and they came into the house to pay their rent for trampling the ground around the place. they always placed a piece of money under a pitcher, and the result was that the family living there became remarkably rich. but somehow, after the lapse of many years, the owner of the place offended them, by showing disrespect for their diminutive family: soon the world began to go against him, and it was not long before he got low in life. everything turned against him, and in times past everybody believed that he incurred all this because he had earned the displeasure of the fair family.' in the brython for the year , p. , in the course of an essay on the history of the lordship of mawdwy in merioneth, considered the best in a competition at an eistedfod held at dinas mawdwy, august , , glasynys gives the following bit about the fairies of that neighbourhood:--'the side of aran fawdwy is a great place for the fair family: they are ever at it playing their games on the hillsides about this spot. it is said that they are numberless likewise about bwlch y groes. once a boy crossed over near the approach of night, one summer eve, from the gadfa to mawdwy, and on his return he saw near aber rhiwlech a swarm of the little family dancing away full pelt. the boy began to run, with two of the maidens in pursuit of him, entreating him to stay; but robin, for that was his name, kept running, and the two elves failed altogether to catch him, otherwise he would have been taken a prisoner of love. there are plenty of their dancing-rings to be seen on the hillsides between aber rhiwlech and bwlch y groes.' here i would introduce two other merionethshire tales, which i have received from mr. e. s. roberts, master of the llandysilio school, near llangollen. he has learnt them from one abel evans, who lives at present in the parish of llandysilio: he is a native of the parish of llandrillo on the slopes of the berwyn, and of a glen in the same, known as cwm pennant, so called from its being drained by the pennant on its way to join the dee. now cwm pennant was the resort of fairies, or of a certain family of them, and the occurrence, related in the following tale, must have taken place no less than seventy years ago: it was well known to the late mrs. ellen edwards of llandrillo:-- ryw diwrnod aeth dau gyfaill i hela dwfrgwn ar hyd lannau afon pennant, a thra yn cyfeirio eu camrau tuagat yr afon gwelsant ryw greadur bychan lliwgoch yn rhedeg yn gyflym iawn ar draws un o'r dolyd yn nghyfeiriad yr afon. ymaeth a nhw ar ei ol. gwelsant ei fod wedi myned oditan wraid coeden yn ochr yr afon i ymgudio. yr oed y dau dyn yn medwl mae dwfrgi ydoed, ond ar yr un pryd yn methu a deall paham yr ymdanghosai i'w llygaid yn lliwgoch. yr oedynt yn dymuno ei dal yn fyw, ac ymaith yr aeth un o honynt i ffarmdy gerllaw i ofyn am sach, yr hon a gafwyd, er mwyn rhoi y creadur yndi. yr oed yno dau dwll o tan wraid y pren, a thra daliai un y sach yn agored ar un twll yr oed y llall yn hwthio ffon i'r twll arall, ac yn y man aeth y creadur i'r sach. yr oed y dau dyn yn medwl eu bod wedi dal dwfrgi, yr hyn a ystyrient yn orchest nid bychan. cychwynasant gartref yn llawen ond cyn eu myned hyd lled cae, llefarod lletywr y sach mewn ton drist gan dywedyd--'y mae fy mam yn galw am danaf, o, mae fy mam yn galw am danaf,' yr hyn a rodod fraw mawr i'r dau heliwr, ac yn y man taflasant y sach i lawr, a mawr oed eu rhyfedod a'u dychryn pan welsant dyn bach mewn gwisg goch yn rhedeg o'r sach tuagat yr afon. fe a diflannod o'i golwg yn mysg y drysni ar fin yr afon. yr oed y dau wedi eu brawychu yn dirfawr ac yn teimlo mae doethach oed myned gartref yn hytrach nag ymyrraeth yn mhellach a'r tylwyth teg. 'one day, two friends went to hunt otters on the banks of the pennant, and when they were directing their steps towards the river, they beheld some small creature of a red colour running fast across the meadows in the direction of the river. off they ran after it, and saw that it went beneath the roots of a tree on the brink of the river to hide itself. the two men thought it was an otter, but, at the same time, they could not understand why it seemed to them to be of a red colour. they wished to take it alive, and off one of them went to a farm house that was not far away to ask for a sack, which he got, to put the creature into it. now there were two holes under the roots of the tree, and while one held the sack with its mouth open over one of them, the other pushed his stick into the other hole, and presently the creature went into the sack. the two men thought they had caught an otter, which they looked upon as no small feat. they set out for home, but before they had proceeded the width of one field, the inmate of the sack spoke to them in a sad voice, and said, "my mother is calling for me; oh, my mother is calling for me!" this gave the two hunters a great fright, so that they at once threw down the sack; and great was their surprise to see a little man in a red dress running out of the sack towards the river. he disappeared from their sight in the bushes by the river. the two men were greatly terrified, and felt that it was more prudent to go home than meddle any further with the fair family.' so far as i know, this story stands alone in welsh folklore; but it has an exact parallel in lancashire [ ]. the other story, which i now reproduce, was obtained by mr. roberts from the same abel evans. he learnt it from mrs. ellen edwards, and it refers to a point in her lifetime, which abel evans fixes at ninety years ago. mr. roberts has not succeeded in recovering the name of the cottager of whom it speaks; but he lived on the side of the berwyn, above cwm pennant, where till lately a cottage used to stand, near which the fairies had one of their resorts:-- yr oed perchen y bwthyn wedi amaethu rhyw ran fychan o'r mynyd ger llaw y ty er mwyn plannu pytatws yndo. felly y gwnaeth. mewn coeden yn agos i'r fan canfydod nyth bran. fe fedyliod mae doeth fuasai ido dryllio y nyth cyn amlhau o'r brain. fe a esgynnod y goeden ac a drylliod y nyth, ac wedi disgyn i lawr canfydod gylch glas (fairy ring) odiamgylch y pren, ac ar y cylch fe welod hanner coron er ei fawr lawenyd. wrth fyned heibio yr un fan y boreu canlynol fe gafod hanner coron yn yr un man ag y cafod y dyd o'r blaen. hynna fu am amryw dydiau. un diwrnod dywedod wrth gyfaill am ei hap da a dangosod y fan a'r lle y cawsai yr hanner coron bob boreu. wel y boreu canlynol nid oed yno na hanner coron na dim arall ido, oherwyd yr oed wedi torri rheolau y tylwythion trwy wneud eu haelioni yn hysbys. y mae y tylwythion o'r farn na dylai y llaw aswy wybod yr hyn a wna y llaw dehau. 'the occupier of the cottage had tilled a small portion of the mountain side near his home in order to plant potatoes, which he did. he observed that there was a rook's nest on a tree which was not far from this spot, and it struck him that it would be prudent to break the nest before the rooks multiplied. so he climbed the tree and broke the nest, and, after coming down, he noticed a green circle (a fairy ring) round the tree, and on this circle he espied, to his great joy, half a crown. as he went by the same spot the following morning, he found another half a crown in the same place as before. so it happened for several days; but one day he told a friend of his good luck, and showed him the spot where he found half a crown every morning. now the next morning there was for him neither half a crown nor anything else, because he had broken the rule of the fair folks by making their liberality known, they being of opinion that the left hand should not know what the right hand does.' so runs this short tale, which the old lady, mrs. edwards, and the people of the neighbourhood explained as an instance of the gratitude of the fairies to a man who had rendered them a service, which in this case was supposed to have consisted in ridding them of the rooks, that disturbed their merry-makings in the green ring beneath the branches of the tree. vii. it would be unpardonable to pass away from merioneth without alluding to the stray cow of llyn barfog. the story appears in welsh in the brython for , pp. - , but the contributor, who closely imitates glasynys' style, says that he got his materials from a paper by the late mr. pughe of aberdovey, by which he seems to have meant an article contributed by the latter to the archæologia cambrensis, and published in the volume for , pp. - . mr. pughe dwells in that article a good deal on the scenery of the corner of merioneth in the rear of aberdovey; but the chief thing in his paper is the legend connected with llyn barfog, which he renders into english as the bearded lake [ ]. it is described as a mountain lake in a secluded spot in the upland country behind aberdovey; but i shall let mr. pughe speak for himself:-- 'the lovers of cambrian lore are aware that the triads in their record of the deluge affirm that it was occasioned by a mystic afanc y llyn, crocodile [ ] of the lake, breaking the banks of llyn llion, the lake of waters; and the recurrence of that catastrophe was prevented only by hu gadarn, the bold man of power, dragging away the afanc by aid of his ychain banawg, or large horned oxen. many a lakelet in our land has put forward its claim to the location of llyn llion; amongst the rest, this lake. be that as it may, king arthur and his war-horse have the credit amongst the mountaineers here of ridding them of the monster, in place of hu the mighty, in proof of which is shown an impression on a neighbouring rock bearing a resemblance to those made by the shoe or hoof of a horse, as having been left there by his charger when our british hercules was engaged in this redoubtable act of prowess, and this impression has been given the name of carn march arthur, the hoof of arthur's horse, which it retains to this day. it is believed to be very perilous to let the waters out of the lake, and recently an aged inhabitant of the district informed the writer that she recollected this being done during a period of long drought, in order to procure motive power for llyn pair mill, and that long-continued heavy rains followed. no wonder our bold but superstitious progenitors, awe-struck by the solitude of the spot--the dark sepial tint of its waters, unrelieved by the flitting apparition of a single fish, and seldom visited by the tenants of the air--should have established it as a canon in their creed of terror that the lake formed one of the many communications between this outward world of ours and the inner or lower one of annwn--the unknown world [ ]--the dominion of gwyn ap nud, the mythic king of the fabled realm, peopled by those children of mystery, plant annwn; and the belief is still current amongst the inhabitants of our mountains in the occasional visitations of the gwraged annwn, or dames of elfin land, to this upper world of ours. a shrewd old hill farmer (thomas abergraes by name), well skilled in the folk-lore of the district, informed me that, in years gone by, though when, exactly, he was too young to remember, those dames were wont to make their appearance, arrayed in green, in the neighbourhood of llyn barfog, chiefly at eventide, accompanied by their kine and hounds, and that on quiet summer nights in particular, these ban-hounds were often to be heard in full cry pursuing their prey--the souls of doomed men dying without baptism and penance--along the upland township of cefnrhosucha. many a farmer had a sight of their comely milk-white kine; many a swain had his soul turned to romance and poesy by a sudden vision of themselves in the guise of damsels arrayed in green, and radiant in beauty and grace; and many a sportsman had his path crossed by their white hounds of supernatural fleetness and comeliness, the cwn annwn; but never had any one been favoured with more than a passing view of either, till an old farmer residing at dyssyrnant, in the adjoining valley of dyffryn gwyn, became at last the lucky captor of one of their milk-white kine. the acquaintance which the gwartheg y llyn, the kine of the lake, had formed with the farmer's cattle, like the loves of the angels for the daughters of men, became the means of capture; and the farmer was thereby enabled to add the mystic cow to his own herd, an event in all cases believed to be most conducive to the worldly prosperity of him who should make so fortunate an acquisition. never was there such a cow, never such calves, never such milk and butter, or cheese, and the fame of the fuwch gyfeiliorn, the stray cow, was soon spread abroad through that central part of wales known as the district of rhwng y dwy afon, from the banks of the mawdach to those of the dofwy [ ]--from aberdiswnwy [ ] to abercorris. the farmer, from a small beginning, rapidly became, like job, a man of substance, possessed of thriving herds of cattle--a very patriarch among the mountains. but, alas! wanting job's restraining grace, his wealth made him proud, his pride made him forget his obligation to the elfin cow, and fearing she might soon become too old to be profitable, he fattened her for the butcher, and then even she did not fail to distinguish herself, for a more monstrously fat beast was never seen. at last the day of slaughter came--an eventful day in the annals of a mountain farm--the killing of a fat cow, and such a monster of obesity! no wonder all the neighbours were gathered together to see the sight. the old farmer looked upon the preparations in self-pleased importance--the butcher felt he was about no common feat of his craft, and, baring his arms, he struck the blow--not now fatal, for before even a hair had been injured, his arm was paralysed--the knife dropped from his hand, and the whole company was electrified by a piercing cry that awakened echo in a dozen hills, and made the welkin ring again; and lo and behold! the whole assemblage saw a female figure clad in green, with uplifted arms, standing on one of the craigs overhanging llyn barfog, and heard her calling with a voice loud as thunder:-- dere di velen einion, cyrn cyveiliorn--braith y llyn, a'r voel dodin, codwch, dewch adre. come yellow anvil, stray horns, speckled one of the lake, and of the hornless dodin, arise, come home [ ]. and no sooner were these words of power uttered than the original lake cow and all her progeny, to the third and fourth generations, were in full flight towards the heights of llyn barfog, as if pursued by the evil one. self-interest quickly roused the farmer, who followed in pursuit, till breathless and panting he gained an eminence overlooking the lake, but with no better success than to behold the green attired dame leisurely descending mid-lake, accompanied by the fugitive cows and their calves formed in a circle around her, they tossing their tails, she waving her hands in scorn as much as to say, "you may catch us, my friend, if you can," as they disappeared beneath the dark waters of the lake, leaving only the yellow water-lily to mark the spot where they vanished, and to perpetuate the memory of this strange event. meanwhile the farmer looked with rueful countenance upon the spot where the elfin herd disappeared, and had ample leisure to deplore the effects of his greediness, as with them also departed the prosperity which had hitherto attended him, and he became impoverished to a degree below his original circumstances; and, in his altered circumstances, few felt pity for one who in the noontide flow of prosperity had shown himself so far forgetful of favours received, as to purpose slaying his benefactor.' mr. pughe did a very good thing in saving this legend from oblivion, but it would be very interesting to know how much of it is still current among the inhabitants of the retired district around llyn barfog, and how the story would look when stripped of the florid language in which mr. pughe thought proper to clothe it. lastly, let me add a reference to the iolo manuscripts, pp. , , where a short story is given concerning a certain milkwhite sweet-milk cow (y fuwch laethwen lefrith) whose milk was so abundant and possessed of such virtues as almost to rival the holy grail. like the holy grail also this cow wandered everywhere spreading plenty, until she chanced to come to the vale of towy, where the foolish inhabitants wished to kill and eat her: the result was that she vanished in their hands and has never since been heard of. viii. here i wish to add some further stories connected with merionethshire which have come under my notice lately. i give them chiefly on the authority of mr. owen m. edwards of lincoln college, who is a native of llanuwchllyn, and still spends a considerable part of his time there; and partly on that of hywel's essay on the folklore of the county, which was awarded the prize at the national eistedfod of [ ]. a story current at llanuwchllyn, concerning a midwife who attends on a fairy mother, resembles the others of the same group: for one of them see p. above. in the former, however, one misses the ointment, and finds instead of it that the midwife was not to touch her eyes with the water with which she washed the fairy baby. but as might be expected one of her eyes happened to itch, and she touched it with her fingers straight from the water. it appears that thenceforth she was able to see the fairies with that eye; at any rate she is represented some time afterwards recognizing the father of the fairy baby at a fair at bala, and inquiring of him kindly about his family. the fairy asked with which eye she saw him, and when he had ascertained this, he at once blinded it, so that she never could see with it afterwards. hywel also has it that the tylwyth teg formerly used to frequent the markets at bala, and that they used to swell the noise in the market-place without anybody being able to see them: this was a sign that prices were going to rise. the shepherds of ardudwy are familiar, according to hywel, with a variant of the story in which a man married a fairy on condition that he did not touch her with iron. they lived on the moelfre and dwelt happily together for years, until one fine summer day, when the husband was engaged in shearing his sheep, he put the gwelle, 'shears,' in his wife's hand: she then instantly disappeared. the earlier portions of this story are unknown to me, but they are not hard to guess. concerning llyn irdyn, between the western slopes of the llawllech, hywel has a story the like of which i am not acquainted with: walking near that lake you shun the shore and keep to the grass in order to avoid the fairies, for if you take hold of the grass no fairy can touch you, or dare under any circumstances injure a blade of grass. lastly, hywel speaks of several caves containing treasure, as for instance a telyn aur, or golden harp, hidden away in a cave beneath castell carn dochan in the parish of llanuwchllyn. lewis morris, in his celtic remains, p. , calls it castell corndochen, and describes it as seated on the top of a steep rock at the bottom of a deep valley: it appears to have consisted of a wall surrounding three turrets, and the mortar seems composed of cockle-shells: see also the archæologia cambrensis for , p. . hywel speaks also of a cave beneath castell dinas brân, near llangollen, as containing much treasure, which will only be disclosed to a boy followed by a white dog with llygaid arian, 'silver eyes,' explained to mean light eyes: every such dog is said to see the wind. so runs this story, but it requires more exegesis than i can supply. one may compare it at a distance with myrdin's arrangement that the treasure buried by him at dinas emrys should only be found by a youth with yellow hair and blue eyes, and with the belief that the cave treasures of the snowdon district belong to the gwydyl or goidels, and that goidels will eventually find them: see chapter viii. the next three stories are from mr. owen edwards' cymru for , pp. - , where he has published them from a collection made for a literary competition or local eistedfod by his friend j. h. roberts, who died in early manhood. the first is a blurred version of the story of the lake lady and her dowry of cattle, but enough of the story remains to show that, had we got it in its original form, it would be found to differ somewhat on several points from all the other versions extant. i summarize the welsh as follows:--in ages gone by, as the shepherd of hafod y garreg was looking after his sheep on the shores of the arennig lake, he came across a young calf, plump, sleek, and strong, in the rushes. he could not guess whence the beast could have come, as no cattle were allowed to approach the lake at that time of the year. he took it home, however, and it was reared until it was a bull, remarkable for his fine appearance. in time his offspring were the only cattle on the farm, and never before had there been such beasts at hafod y garreg. they were the wonder and admiration of the whole country. but one summer afternoon in june, the shepherd saw a little fat old man playing on a pipe, and then he heard him call the cows by their names-- mulican, molican, malen, mair, dowch adre'r awrhon ar fy ngair. mulican, molican, malen and mair, come now home at my word. he then beheld the whole herd running to the little man and going into the lake. nothing more was heard of them, and it was everybody's opinion that they were the tylwyth teg's cattle. the next is a quasi fairy tale, the outcome of which recalls the adventure of the farmer of drws y coed on his return from bedgelert fair, p. above. it is told of a young harpist who was making his way across country from his home at yspyty ifan to the neighbourhood of bala, that while crossing the mountain he happened in the mist to lose his road and fall into the gors fawr, 'the big bog.' there he wallowed for hours, quite unable to extricate himself in spite of all his efforts. but when he was going to give up in despair, he beheld close to him, reaching him her hand, a little woman who was wondrous fair beyond all his conception of beauty, and with her help he got out of the gors. the damsel gave him a jolly sweet kiss that flashed electricity through his whole nature: he was at once over head and ears in love. she led him to the hut of her father and mother: there he had every welcome, and he spent the night singing and dancing with olwen, for that was her name. now, though the harpist was a mere stripling, he thought of wedding at once--he was never before in such a heaven of delight. but next morning he was waked, not by a kiss from olwen, but by the plas drain shepherd's dog licking his lips: he found himself sleeping against the wall of a sheepfold (corlan), with his harp in a clump of rushes at his feet, without any trace to be found of the family with whom he had spent such a happy night. the next story recalls glasynys' einion las, as given at pp. - above: its peculiarity is the part played by the well introduced. the scene was a turbary near the river called afon mynach, so named from cwm tir mynach, behind the hills immediately north of bala:--ages ago, as a number of people were cutting turf in a place which was then moorland, and which is now enclosed ground forming part of a farm called nant hir, one of them happened to wash his face in a well belonging to the fairies. at dinner-time in the middle of the day they sat down in a circle, while the youth who had washed his face went to fetch the food, but suddenly both he and the box of food were lost. they knew not what to do, they suspected that it was the doing of the fairies; but the wise man (gwr hyspys) came to the neighbourhood and told them, that, if they would only go to the spot on the night of full moon in june, they would behold him dancing with the fairies. they did as they were told, and found the moor covered with thousands of little agile creatures who sang and danced with all their might, and they saw the missing man among them. they rushed at him, and with a great deal of trouble they got him out. but oftentimes was einion missed again, until at the time of full moon in another june he returned home with a wondrously fair wife, whose history or pedigree no one knew. everybody believed her to be one of the tylwyth teg. ix. there is a kind of fairy tale of which i think i have hitherto not given the reader a specimen: a good instance is given in the third volume of the brython, at p. , by a contributor who calls himself idnerth ab gwgan, who, i learn from the rev. chancellor silvan evans, the editor, was no other than the rev. benjamin williams, best known to welsh antiquaries by his bardic name of gwynionyd. the preface to the tale is also interesting, so i am tempted to render the whole into english, as follows:-- 'the fair family were wonderful creatures in the imaginary world: they encamped, they walked, and they capered a great deal in former ages in our country, according to what we learn from some of our old people. it may be supposed that they were very little folks like the children of rhys dwfn; for the old people used to imagine that they were wont to visit their hearths in great numbers in ages gone by. the girls at the farm houses used to make the hearths clean after supper, and to place a cauldron full of water near the fire; and so they thought that the fair family came there to play at night, bringing sweethearts for the young women, and leaving pieces of money on the hob for them in the morning. sometimes they might be seen as splendid hosts exercising themselves on our hills. they were very fond of the mountains of dyfed; travellers between lampeter and cardigan used to see them on the hill of llanwenog, but by the time they had reached there the fairies would be far away on the hills of llandyssul, and when one had reached the place where one expected to see the family together in tidy array, they would be seen very busily engaged on the tops of crug y balog; when one went there they would be on blaen pant ar fi, moving on and on to bryn bwa, and, finally, to some place or other in the lower part of dyfed. like the soldiers of our earthly world, they were possessed of terribly fascinating music; and in the autumnal season they had their rings, still named from them, in which they sang and danced. the young man of llech y derwyd [ ] was his father's only son, as well as heir to the farm; so he was very dear to his father and his mother, indeed he was the light of their eyes. now, the head servant and the son were bosom friends: they were like brothers together, or rather twin brothers. as the son and the servant were such friends, the farmer's wife used to get exactly the same kind of clothes prepared for the servant as for her son. the two fell in love with two handsome young women of very good reputation in the neighbourhood. the two couples were soon joined in honest wedlock, and great was the merry-making on the occasion. the servant had a suitable place to live in on the farm of llech y derwyd; but about half a year after the son's marriage, he and his friend went out for sport, when the servant withdrew to a wild and retired corner to look for game. he returned presently for his friend, but when he got there he could not see him anywhere: he kept looking around for some time for him, shouting and whistling, but there was no sign of his friend. by-and-by, he went home to llech y derwyd expecting to see him, but no one knew anything about him. great was the sorrow of his family through the night; and next day the anxiety was still greater. they went to see the place where his friend had seen him last: it was hard to tell whether his mother or his wife wept the more bitterly; but the father was a little better, though he also looked as if he were half mad with grief. the spot was examined, and, to their surprise, they saw a fairy ring close by, and the servant recollected that he had heard the sound of very fascinating music somewhere or other about the time in question. it was at once agreed that the man had been unfortunate enough to have got into the ring of the tylwyth, and to have been carried away by them, nobody knew whither. weeks and months passed away, and a son was born to the heir of llech y derwyd, but the young father was not there to see his child, which the old people thought very hard. however, the little one grew up the very picture of his father, and great was his influence over his grandfather and grandmother; in fact he was everything to them. he grew up to be a man, and he married a good-looking girl in that neighbourhood; but her family did not enjoy the reputation of being kind-hearted people. the old folks died, and their daughter-in-law also. one windy afternoon in the month of october, the family of llech y derwyd beheld a tall thin old man, with his beard and hair white as snow, coming towards the house, and they thought he was a jew. the servant maids stared at him, and their mistress laughed at the "old jew," at the same time that she lifted the children up one after another to see him. he came to the door and entered boldly enough, asking about his parents. the mistress answered him in an unusually surly and contemptuous tone, wondering why the "drunken old jew had come there," because it was thought he had been drinking, and that he would otherwise not have spoken so. the old man cast wondering and anxious looks around on everything in the house, feeling as he did greatly surprised; but it was the little children about the floor that drew his attention most: his looks were full of disappointment and sorrow. he related the whole of his account, saying that he had been out the day before and that he was now returning. the mistress of the house told him that she had heard a tale about her husband's father, that he had been lost years before her birth while out sporting, whilst her father maintained that it was not true, but that he had been killed. she became angry, and quite lost her temper at seeing "the old jew" not going away. the old man was roused, saying that he was the owner of the house, and that he must have his rights. he then went out to see his possessions, and presently went to the house of the servant, where, to his surprise, things had greatly changed; after conversing with an aged man, who sat by the fire, the one began to scrutinize the other more and more. the aged man by the fire told him what had been the fate of his old friend, the heir of llech y derwyd. they talked deliberately of the events of their youth, but it all seemed like a dream; in short, the old man in the corner concluded that his visitor was his old friend, the heir of llech y derwyd, returning from the land of the tylwyth teg after spending half a hundred years there. the other old man, with the snow-white beard, believed in his history, and much did they talk together and question one another for many hours. the old man by the fire said that the master of llech y derwyd was away from home that day, and he induced his aged visitor to eat some food, but, to the horror of all, the eater fell down dead on the spot [ ]. there is no record that an inquest was held over him, but the tale relates that the cause of it was, that he ate food after having been so long in the world of the fair family. his old friend insisted on seeing him buried by the side of his ancestors; but the rudeness of the mistress of llech y derwyd to her father-in-law brought a curse on the family that clung to it to distant generations, and until the place had been sold nine times.' a tale like this is to be found related of idwal of nantclwyd, in cymru fu, p. . i said 'a tale like this,' but, on reconsidering the matter, i should think it is the very same tale passed through the hands of glasynys or some one of his imitators. another of this kind will be found in the brython, ii. , and several similar ones also in wirt sikes' book, pp. - , either given at length, or merely referred to. there is one kind of variant which deserves special notice, as making the music to which the sojourner in faery listens for scores of years to be that of a bird singing on a tree. a story of the sort is located by howells, in his cambrian superstitions, pp. - , at pant shon shencin, near pencader, in cardiganshire. this latter kind of story leads easily up to another development, namely, to substituting for the bird's warble the song and felicity of heaven, and for the simple shepherd a pious monk. in this form it is located at a place called llwyn y nef, or 'heaven's grove,' near celynnog fawr, in carnarvonshire. it is given by glasynys in cymru fu, pp. - , where it was copied from the brython, iii. , in which he had previously published it. several versions of it in rhyme came down from the eighteenth century, and silvan evans has brought together twenty-six stanzas in point in st. david's college magazine for , pp. - , where he has put into a few paragraphs all that is known about the song of the hen wr o'r coed, or the old man of the wood, in his usually clear and lucid style. a tale from the other end of the tract of country once occupied by a sprinkling, perhaps, of celts among a population of picts, makes the man, and not the fairies, supply the music. i owe it to the kindness of the rev. andrew clark, fellow of lincoln college, oxford, who heard it from the late sexton of the parish of dollar, in the county of clackmannan. the sexton died some twelve years ago, aged seventy: he had learnt the tale from his father. the following are mr. clark's words:-- 'glendevon is a parish and village in the ochils in county perth, about five miles from dollar as you come up glen queich and down by gloomhill. glen queich is a narrowish glen between two grassy hills--at the top of the glen is a round hill of no great height, but very neat shape, the grass of which is always short and trim, and the ferns on the shoulder of a very marked green. this, as you come up the glen, seems entirely to block the way. it is called the "maiden castle." only when you come quite close do you see the path winding round the foot of it. a little further on is a fine spring bordered with flat stones, in the middle of a neat, turfy spot, called the "maiden's well." this road, till the new toll-road was made on the other side of the hills, was the thoroughfare between dollar and glendevon.' the following is the legend, as told by the 'bethrel':--'a piper, carrying his pipes, was coming from glendevon to dollar in the grey of the evening. he crossed the garchel (a little stream running into the queich burn), and looked at the "maiden castle," and saw only the grey hillside and heard only the wind soughing through the bent. he had got beyond it when he heard a burst of lively music: he turned round, and instead of the dark knoll saw a great castle, with lights blazing from the windows, and heard the noise of dancing issuing from the open door. he went back incautiously, and a procession issuing forth at that moment, he was caught and taken into a great hall ablaze with lights, and people dancing on the floor. he had to pipe to them for a day or two, but he got anxious, because he knew his people would be wondering why he did not come back in the morning as he had promised. the fairies seemed to sympathize with his anxiety, and promised to let him go if he played a favourite tune of his, which they seemed fond of, to their satisfaction. he played his very best, the dance went fast and furious, and at its close he was greeted with loud applause. on his release he found himself alone, in the grey of the evening, beside the dark hillock, and no sound was heard save the purr of the burn and the soughing of the wind through the bent. instead of completing his journey to dollar, he walked hastily back to glendevon to relieve his folk's anxiety. he entered his father's house and found no kent face there. on his protesting that he had gone only a day or two before, and waxing loud in his bewildered talk, a grey old man was roused from a doze behind the fire; and told how he had heard when a boy from his father that a piper had gone away to dollar on a quiet evening, and had never been heard or seen since, nor any trace of him found. he had been in the "castle" for a hundred years.' the term plant rhys dwfn has already been brought before the reader: it means 'the children of rhys dwfn,' and rhys dwfn means literally rhys the deep, but the adjective in welsh connotes depth of character in the sense of shrewdness or cunning. nay, even the english deep is often borrowed for use in the same sense, as when one colloquially says un dîp iawn yw e, 'he is a very calculating or cunning fellow.' the following account of rhys and his progeny is given by gwynionyd in the first volume of the brython, p. , which deserves being cited at length:--'there is a tale current in dyfed, that there is, or rather that there has been, a country between cemmes, the northern hundred of pembrokeshire, and aberdaron in lleyn. the chief patriarch of the inhabitants was rhys dwfn, and his descendants used to be called after him the children of rhys dwfn. they were, it is said, a handsome race enough, but remarkably small in size. it is stated that certain herbs of a strange nature grew in their land, so that they were able to keep their country from being seen by even the most sharp sighted of invaders. there is no account that these remarkable herbs grew in any other part of the world excepting on a small spot, about a square yard in area, in a certain part of cemmes. if it chanced that a man stood alone on it, he beheld the whole of the territory of plant rhys dwfn; but the moment he moved he would lose sight of it altogether, and it would have been utterly vain for him to look for his footprints. in another story, as will be seen presently, the requisite platform was a turf from st. david's churchyard. the rhysians had not much land--they lived in towns. so they were wont in former times to come to market to cardigan, and to raise the prices of things terribly. they were seen of no one coming or going, but only seen there in the market. when prices happened to be high, and the corn all sold, however much there might have been there in the morning, the poor used to say to one another on the way home, "oh! they were there to-day," meaning plant rhys dwfn. so they were dear friends in the estimation of siôn phil hywel, the farmer; but not so high in the opinion of dafyd, the labourer. it is said, however, that they were very honest and resolute men. a certain gruffyd ab einon was wont to sell them more corn than anybody else, and so he was a great friend of theirs. he was honoured by them beyond all his contemporaries by being led on a visit to their home. as they were great traders like the phoenicians of old, they had treasures from all countries under the sun. gruffyd, after feasting his eyes to satiety on their wonders, was led back by them loaded with presents. but before taking leave of them, he asked them how they succeeded in keeping themselves safe from invaders, as one of their number might become unfaithful, and go beyond the virtue of the herbs that formed their safety. "oh!" replied the little old man of shrewd looks, "just as ireland has been blessed with a soil on which venomous reptiles cannot live, so with our land: no traitor can live here. look at the sand on the sea-shore: perfect unity prevails there, and so among us. rhys, the father of our race, bade us, even to the most distant descendant, honour our parents and ancestors; love our own wives without looking at those of our neighbours; and do our best for our children and grandchildren. and he said that if we did so, no one of us would ever prove unfaithful to another, or become what you call a traitor. the latter is a wholly imaginary character among us; strange pictures are drawn of him with his feet like those of an ass, with a nest of snakes in his bosom, with a head like the devil's, with hands somewhat like a man's, while one of them holds a large knife, and the family lies dead around the figure. good-bye!" when gruffyd looked about him he lost sight of the country of plant rhys, and found himself near his home. he became very wealthy after this, and continued to be a great friend of plant rhys as long as he lived. after gruffyd's death they came to market again, but such was the greed of the farmers, like gruffyd before them, for riches, and so unreasonable were the prices they asked for their corn, that the rhysians took offence and came no more to cardigan to market. the old people used to think that they now went to fishguard market, as very strange people were wont to be seen there.' on the other hand, some fishguard people were lately of opinion that it was at haverfordwest the fairies did their marketing: i refer to a letter of mr. ferrar fenton's, in the pembroke county guardian of october , , in which he mentions a conversation he had with a fishguard woman as to the existence of fairies: 'there are fairies,' she asserted, 'for they came to ha'rfordwest market to buy things, so there must be.' with this should be compared pp. - of wirt sikes' british goblins, where mention is made of sailors on the coast of pembrokeshire and carmarthenshire, 'who still talk of the green meadows of enchantment lying in the irish channel to the west of pembrokeshire,' and of men who had landed on them, or seen them suddenly vanishing. the author then proceeds to abstract from howells' cambrian superstitions, p. , the following paragraph:--'the fairies inhabiting these islands are said to have regularly attended the markets at milford haven and laugharne. they made their purchases without speaking, laid down their money and departed, always leaving the exact sum required, which they seemed to know without asking the price of anything. sometimes they were invisible; but they were often seen by sharp-eyed persons. there was always one special butcher at milford haven upon whom the fairies bestowed their patronage instead of distributing their favours indiscriminately. the milford haven folk could see the green fairy islands distinctly, lying out a short distance from land; and the general belief was that they were densely peopled with fairies. it was also said that the latter went to and fro between the islands and the shore, through a subterranean gallery under the bottom of the sea.' another tale given in the brython, ii. , by a writer who gives his name as b. davies [ ], will serve to show, short though it be, that the term plant rhys dwfn was not confined to those honestly dealing fairies, but was used in a sense wholly synonymous with that of tylwyth teg, as understood in other parts of wales. the story runs as follows, and should be compared with the dyffryn mymbyr one given above, pp. - :--'one calm hot day, when the sun of heaven was brilliantly shining, and the hay in the dales was being busily made by lads and lasses, and by grown-up people of both sexes, a woman in the neighbourhood of emlyn placed her one-year-old infant in the gader, or chair, as the cradle is called in these parts, and out she went to the field for a while, intending to return, when her neighbour, an old woman overtaken by the decrepitude of eighty summers, should call to her that her darling was crying. it was not long before she heard the old woman calling to her; she ran hurriedly, and as soon as she set foot on the kitchen floor she took her little one in her arms as usual, saying to him, "o my little one! thy mother's delight art thou! i would not take the world for thee, &c." but to her surprise he had a very old look about him, and the more the tender-hearted mother gazed at his face, the stranger it seemed to her, so that at last she placed him in the cradle and told her trouble and sorrow to her relatives and acquaintances. and after this one and the other had given his opinion, it was agreed at last that it was one of rhys dwfn's children that was in the cradle, and not her dearly loved baby. in this distress there was nothing to do but to fetch a sorcerer, as fast as the fastest horse could gallop. he said, when he saw the child, that he had seen his like before, and that it would be a hard job to get rid of him, though not such a very hard job this time. the shovel was made red hot in the fire by one of the cefnarth [ ] boys, and held before the child's face; and in an instant the short little old man took to his heels, and neither he nor his like was seen afterwards from aber cuch to aber bargoed at any rate. the mother, it is said, found her darling unscathed the next moment. i remember also hearing that the strange child was as old as the grandfather of the one that had been lost.' as i see no reason to make any profound distinction between lake maidens and sea maidens, i now give gwynionyd's account of the mermaid who was found by a fisherman from llandydoch or st. dogmael's [ ], near cardigan: see the brython, i. :-- 'one fine afternoon in september, in the beginning of the last century, a fisherman, whose name was pergrin [ ], went to a recess in the rock near pen cemmes, where he found a sea maiden doing her hair, and he took the water lady prisoner to his boat.... we know not what language is used by sea maidens ... but this one, this time at any rate, talked, it is said, very good welsh; for when she was in despair in pergrin's custody, weeping copiously, and with her tresses all dishevelled, she called out: 'pergrin, if thou wilt let me go, i will give thee three shouts in the time of thy greatest need.' so, in wonder and fear, he let her go to walk the streets of the deep, and visit her sweethearts there. days and weeks passed without pergrin seeing her after this; but one hot afternoon, when the sea was pretty calm, and the fishermen had no thought of danger, behold his old acquaintance showing her head and locks, and shouting out in a loud voice: 'pergrin! pergrin! pergrin! take up thy nets, take up thy nets, take up thy nets!' pergrin and his companion instantly obeyed the message, and drew their nets in with great haste. in they went, past the bar, and by the time they had reached the pwll cam the most terrible storm had overspread the sea, while he and his companion were safe on land. twice nine others had gone out with them, but they were all drowned without having the chance of obeying the warning of the water lady.' perhaps it is not quite irrelevant to mention here the armorial bearings which drayton ascribes to the neighbouring county of cardigan in the following couplet in his battaile of agincourt (london, ), p. :-- as cardigan the next to them that went, came with a mermayd sitting on a rock. a writer in the brython, iv. , states that the people of nefyn in lleyn claim the story of the fisher and the mermaid as belonging to them, which proves that a similar legend has been current there: add to this the fact mentioned in the brython, iii. , that a red mermaid with yellow hair, on a white field, figures in the coat of arms of the family resident at glasfryn in the parish of llangybi, in eifionyd or the southern portion of carnarvonshire; and we have already suggested that glasynys' story (pp. - ) was made up, to a certain extent, of materials found on the coasts of carnarvonshire. a small batch of stories about south wales mermaids is given by a writer who calls himself ab nadol [ ], in the brython, iv. , as follows:-- 'a few rockmen are said to have been working, about eighty years ago, in a quarry near porth y rhaw, when the day was calm and clear, with nature, as it were, feasting, the flowers shedding sweet scent around, and the hot sunshine beaming into the jagged rocks. though an occasional wave rose to strike the romantic cliffs, the sea was like a placid lake, with its light coverlet of blue attractive enough to entice one of the ladies of rhys dwfn forth from the town seen by daniel huws off trefin as he was journeying between fishguard and st. david's in the year , to make her way to the top of a stone and to sit on it to disentangle her flowing silvery hair. whilst she was cleaning herself, the rockmen went down, and when they got near her they perceived that, from her waist upwards, she was like the lasses of wales, but that, from her waist downwards, she had the body of a fish. and, when they began to talk to her, they found she spoke welsh, though she only uttered the following few words to them: "reaping in pembrokeshire and weeding in carmarthenshire." off she then went to walk in the depth of the sea towards her home. another tale is repeated about a mermaid, said to have been caught by men below the land of llanwnda, near the spot, if not on the spot, where the french made their landing afterwards, and three miles to the west of fishguard. it then goes on to say that they carried her to their home, and kept her in a secure place for some time; before long, she begged to be allowed to return to the brine land, and gave the people of the house three bits of advice; but i only remember one of them,' he writes, 'and this is it: "skim the surface of the pottage before adding sweet milk to it: it will be whiter and sweeter, and less of it will do." i was told that this family follow the three advices to this day.' a somewhat similar advice to that about the pottage is said to have been given by a mermaid, under similar circumstances, to a manxman. after putting the foregoing bits together, i was favoured by mr. benjamin williams with notes on the tales and on the persons from whom he heard them: they form the contents of two or three letters, mostly answers to queries of mine, and the following is the substance of them:--mr. williams is a native of the valley of troed yr aur [ ], in the cardiganshire parish of that name. he spent a part of his youth at verwig, in the angle between the northern bank of the teifi and cardigan bay. he heard of rhys dwfn's children first from a distant relative of his father's, a catherine thomas, who came to visit her daughter, who lived not far from his father's house: that would now be from forty-eight to fifty years ago. he was very young at the time, and of rhys dwfn's progeny he formed a wonderful idea, which was partly due also to the talk of one james davies or siàms mocyn, who was very well up in folklore, and was one of his father's next-door neighbours. he was an old man, and nephew to the musician, david jenkin morgan. the only spot near mr. williams' home, that used to be frequented by the fairies, was cefn y ceirw, 'the stag's ridge,' a large farm, so called from having been kept as a park for their deer by the lewises of aber nant bychan. he adds that the late mr. philipps, of aberglasney, was very fond of talking of things in his native neighbourhood, and of mentioning the fairies at cefn y ceirw. it was after moving to verwig that mr. williams began to put the tales he heard on paper: then he came in contact with three brothers, whose names were john, owen, and thomas evans. they were well-to-do and respectable bachelors, living together on the large farm of hafod ruffyd. thomas was a man of very strong common sense, and worth consulting on any subject: he was a good arithmetician, and a constant reader of the baptist periodical, seren gomer, from its first appearance. he thoroughly understood the bardic metres, and had a fair knowledge of music. he was well versed in scripture, and filled the office of deacon at the baptist chapel. his death took place in the year . now, the eldest of the three brothers, the one named john, or siôn, was then about seventy-five years of age, and he thoroughly believed in the tales about the fairies, as will be seen from the following short dialogue:-- siôn: williams bach, ma'n rhaid i bod nhw'i gâl: yr w i'n cofio yn amser bone fod marchnad aberteifi yn llawn o lafir yn y bore--digon yno am fis--ond cin pen hanner awr yr ôd y cwbwl wedi darfod. nid ôd possib i gweld nhwi: mâ gida nhwi faint a fynnon nhwi o arian. williams: siwt na fyse dynion yn i gweld nhwi ynte, siôn? siôn: o mâ gida nhwi dynion fel ninne yn pryni drostyn nhwi; ag y mâ nhwi fel yr hen siówmin yna yn gelli gneid pob tric. john: 'my dear williams, it must be that they exist: i remember cardigan market, in the time of bonaparte, full of corn in the morning--enough for a month--but in less than half an hour it was all gone. it was impossible to see them: they have as much money as they like.' williams: 'how is it, then, that men did not see them, john?' john: 'oh, they have men like us to do the buying for them; and they can, like those old showmen, do every kind of trick.' at this kind of display of simplicity on the part of his brother, thomas used to smile and say: 'my brother john believes such things as those;' for he had no belief in them himself. still it is from his mouth that mr. williams published the tales in the brython, which have been reproduced here, that of 'pergrin and the mermaid,' and all about the 'heir of llech y derwyd,' not to mention the ethical element in the account of rhys dwfn's country and its people, the product probably of his mind. thomas evans, or as he was really called, tommos ifan, was given rather to grappling with the question of the origin of such beliefs; so one day he called mr. williams out, and led him to a spot about four hundred yards from bol y fron, where the latter then lived: he pointed to the setting sun, and asked mr. williams what he thought of the glorious sunset before them. 'it is all produced,' he then observed, 'by the reflection of the sun's rays on the mist: one might think,' he went on to say, 'that there was there a paradise of a country full of fields, forests, and everything that is desirable.' and before they had moved away the grand scene had disappeared, when thomas suggested that the idea of the existence of the country of rhys dwfn's children arose from the contemplation of that phenomenon. one may say that thomas evans was probably far ahead of the welsh historians who try to extract history from the story of cantre'r gwaelod, 'the bottom hundred,' beneath the waves of cardigan bay; but what was seen was probably an instance of the mirage to be mentioned presently. lastly, besides mr. williams' contributions to the brython, and a small volume of poetry, entitled briallen glan ceri, some tales of his were published by llallawg in bygones some years ago, and he had the prize at the cardigan eistedfod of for the best collection in welsh of the folklore of dyfed: his recollection was that it contained in all thirty-six tales of all kinds; but since the manuscript, as the property of the committee of that eistedfod, was sold, he could not now consult it: in fact he is not certain as to who the owner of it may now be, though he has an idea that it is either the rev. rees williams, vicar of whitchurch, near solva, pembrokeshire, or r. d. jenkins, esq., of cilbronnau, cardiganshire. whoever the owner may be, he would probably be only too glad to have it published, and i mention this merely to call attention to it. the eistedfod is to be commended for encouraging local research, and sometimes even for burying the results in obscurity, but not always. x. before leaving dyfed i wish to revert to the extract from mr. sikes, p. above. he had been helped partly by the article on gavran, in the cambrian biography, by william owen, better known since as william owen pughe and dr. pughe, and partly by a note of southey's on the following words in his madoc (london, ), i. iii:-- where are the sons of gavran? where his tribe, the faithful? following their beloved chief, they the green islands of the ocean sought; nor human tongue hath told, nor human ear, since from the silver shores they went their way, hath heard their fortunes. the gavran story, i may premise, is based on one of the welsh triads--i. , ii. , iii. --and southey cites the article in the cambrian biography; but he goes on to give the following statements without indicating on what sources he was drawing--the reader has, however, been made acquainted already with the virtue of a blade of grass, by the brief mention of llyn irdyn above, p. :-- 'of these islands, or green spots of the floods, there are some singular superstitions. they are the abode of the tylwyth teg, or the fair family, the souls of the virtuous druids, who, not having been christians, cannot enter the christian heaven, but enjoy this heaven of their own. they however discover a love of mischief, neither becoming happy spirits, nor consistent with their original character; for they love to visit the earth, and, seizing a man, inquire whether he will travel above wind, mid wind, or below wind; above wind is a giddy and terrible passage, below wind is through bush and brake, the middle is a safe course. but the spell of security is, to catch hold of the grass, for these beings have not power to destroy a blade of grass. in their better moods they come over and carry the welsh in their boats. he who visits these islands imagines on his return that he has been absent only a few hours, when, in truth, whole centuries have passed away. if you take a turf from st. david's churchyard, and stand upon it on the sea shore, you behold these islands. a man once, who thus obtained sight of them, immediately put to sea to find them; but they disappeared, and his search was in vain. he returned, looked at them again from the enchanted turf, again set sail, and failed again. the third time he took the turf into his vessel, and stood upon it till he reached them.' a correspondent signing himself 'the antient mariner,' and writing, in the pembroke county guardian, from newport, pembrokeshire, oct. , , cites southey's notes, and adds to them the statement, that some fifty years ago there was a tradition amongst the inhabitants of trevine (trefin) in his county, that these islands could be seen from llan non, or eglwys non, in that neighbourhood. to return to madoc, southey adds to the note already quoted a reference to the inhabitants of arran more, on the coast of galway, to the effect that they think that they can on a clear day see hy-breasail, the enchanted island supposed to be the paradise of the pagan irish: compare the phantom city seen in the same sea from the coast of clare. then he asks a question suggestive of the explanation, that all this is due to 'that very extraordinary phenomenon, known in sicily by the name of morgaine le fay's works.' in connexion with this question of mirage i venture to quote again from the pembroke county guardian. mr. ferrar fenton, already mentioned, writes in the issue of nov. , , giving a report which he had received one summer morning from captain john evans, since deceased. it is to the effect 'that once when trending up the channel, and passing grasholm island, in what he had always known as deep water, he was surprised to see to windward of him a large tract of land covered with a beautiful green meadow. it was not, however, above water, but just a few feet below, say two or three, so that the grass waved and swam about as the ripple flowed over it, in a most delightful way to the eye, so that as watched it made one feel quite drowsy. you know, he continued, i have heard old people say there is a floating island off there, that sometimes rises to the surface, or nearly, and then sinks down again fathoms deep, so that no one sees it for years, and when nobody expects it comes up again for a while. how it may be, i do not know, but that is what they say.' lastly, mr. e. perkins, of penysgwarne, near fishguard, wrote on nov. , , as follows, of a changing view to be had from the top of the garn, which means the garn fawr, one of the most interesting prehistoric sites in the county, and one i have had the pleasure of visiting more than once in the company of henry owen and edward laws, the historians of pembrokeshire:-- 'may not the fairy islands referred to by professor rhys have originated from mirages? during the glorious weather we enjoyed last summer, i went up one particularly fine evening to the top of the garn behind penysgwarne to view the sunset. it would have been worth a thousand miles' travel to go to see such a scene as i saw that evening. it was about half an hour before sunset--the bay was calm and smooth as the finest mirror. the rays of the sun made a golden path across the sea, and a picture indescribable. as the sun neared the horizon the rays broadened until the sheen resembled a gigantic golden plate prepared to hold the brighter sun. no sooner had the sun set than i saw a striking mirage. to the right i saw a stretch of country similar to a landscape in this country. a farmhouse and out-buildings were seen, i will not say quite as distinct as i can see the upper part of st. david's parish from this garn, but much more detailed. we could see fences, roads, and gateways leading to the farmyard, but in the haze it looked more like a panoramic view than a veritable landscape. similar mirages may possibly have caused our old tadau to think these were the abode of the fairies.' to return to mr. sikes, the rest of his account of the pembrokeshire fairies and their green islands, of their milford butcher, and of the subterranean gallery leading into their home, comes, as already indicated, for the most part from howells. but it does not appear on what authority southey himself made departed druids of the fairies. one would be glad to be reassured on this last point, as such a hypothesis would fit in well enough with what we are told of the sacrosanct character of the inhabitants of the isles on the coast of britain in ancient times. take, for instance, the brief account given by plutarch of one of the isles explored by a certain demetrius in the service of the emperor of rome: see chapter viii. xi. mr. craigfryn hughes, the author of a welsh novelette [ ] with its scene laid in glamorgan, having induced me to take a copy, i read it and found it full of local colouring. then i ventured to sound the author on the question of fairy tales, and the reader will be able to judge how hearty the response has been. before reproducing the tale which mr. hughes has sent me, i will briefly put into english his account of himself and his authorities. mr. hughes lives at the quakers' yard in the neighbourhood of pontyprid, in glamorganshire. his father was not a believer [ ] in tales about fairies or the like, and he learned all he knows of the traditions about them in his father's absence, from his grandmother and other old people. the old lady's name was rachel hughes. she was born at pandy pont y cymmer, near pontypool, or pont ap hywel as mr. hughes analyses the name, in the year , and she had a vivid recollection of edmund jones of the tranch, of whom more anon, coming from time to time to preach to the independents there. she came, however, to live in the parish of llanfabon, near the quakers' yard, when she was only twelve years of age; and there she continued to live to the day of her death, which took place in , so that she was about ninety-one years of age at the time. mr. hughes adds that he remembers many of the old inhabitants besides his grandmother, who were perfectly familiar with the story he has put on record; but only two of them were alive when he wrote to me in , and these were both over ninety years old, with their minds overtaken by the childishness of age; but it was only a short time since the death of another, who was, as he says, a walking library of tales about corpse candles, ghosts, and bendith y mamau [ ], or 'the mothers' blessing,' as the fairies are usually called in glamorgan. mr. hughes' father tried to prevent his children being taught any tales about ghosts, corpse candles, or fairies; but the grandmother found opportunities of telling them plenty, and mr. hughes vividly describes the effect on his mind when he was a boy, how frightened he used to feel, how he pulled the clothes over his head in bed, and how he half suffocated himself thereby under the effects of the fear with which the tales used to fill him. then, as to the locality, he makes the following remarks:--'there are few people who have not heard something or other about the old graveyard of the quakers, which was made by lydia phil, a lady who lived at a neighbouring farm house, called cefn y fforest. this old graveyard lies in the eastern corner of the parish of merthyr tydfil, on land called pantannas, as to the meaning of which there is much controversy. some will have it that it is properly pant yr aros, or the hollow of the staying, because travellers were sometimes stopped there overnight by the swelling of the neighbouring river; others treat it as pant yr hanes, the hollow of the legend, in allusion to the following story. but before the graveyard was made, the spot was called rhyd y grug, or the ford of the heather, which grows thereabouts in abundance. in front of the old graveyard towards the south the rivers taff and bargoed, which some would make into byrgoed or short-wood, meet with each other, and thence rush in one over terrible cliffs of rock, in the recesses of which lie huge cerwyni or cauldron-like pools, called respectively the gerwyn fach, the gerwyn fawr, and the gerwyn ganol, where many a drowning has taken place. as one walks up over tarren y crynwyr, "the quakers' rift," until pantannas is reached, and proceeds northwards for about a mile and a half, one arrives at a farm house called pen craig daf [ ], "the top of the taff rock." the path between the two houses leads through fertile fields, in which may be seen, if one has eyes to observe, small rings which are greener than the rest of the ground. they are, in fact, green even as compared with the greenness around them--these are the rings in which bendith y mamau used to meet to sing and dance all night. if a man happened to get inside one of these circles when the fairies were there, he could not be got out in a hurry, as they would charm him and lead him into some of their caves, where they would keep him for ages, unawares to him, listening to their music. the rings vary greatly in size, but in point of form they are all round or oval. i have heard my grandmother,' says mr. hughes, 'reciting and singing several of the songs which the fairies sang in these rings. one of them began thus:-- canu, canu, drwy y nos, dawnsio, dawnsio, ar waen y rhos y' ngoleuni'r lleuad dlos: hapus ydym ni! pawb ohonom syd yn llon heb un gofid dan ei fron: canu, dawnsio, ar y ton [ ]-- dedwyd ydym ni! singing, singing, through the night, dancing, dancing with our might, where the moon the moor doth light, happy ever we! one and all of merry mien, without sorrow are we seen, singing, dancing on the green, gladsome ever we! here follows, in mr. hughes' own welsh, a remarkable story of revenge exacted by the fairies:-- yn un o'r canrifoed a aethant heibio, preswyliai amaethwr yn nhydyn pantannas, a'r amser hwnnw yr oed bendith y mamau yn ymwelwyr aml ag amryw gaeau perthynol ido ef, a theimlai yntau gryn gasineb yn ei fynwes at yr 'atras fwstrog, leisiog, a chynllwynig,' fel y galwai hwynt, a mynych yr hiraethai am allu dyfod o hyd i ryw lwybr er cael eu gwared odiyno. o'r diwed hysbyswyd ef gan hen reibwraig, fod y fford i gael eu gwared yn digon hawd, ac ond ido ef rodi godro un hwyr a boreu idi hi, yr hysbysai y fford ido gyrraed yr hyn a fawr dymunai. bodlonod i'w thelerau a derbyniod yntau y cyfarwydyd, yr hyn ydoed fel y canlyn:--ei fod i aredig yr holl gaeau i ba rai yr oed eu hoff ymgyrchfan, ac ond idynt hwy unwaith golli y ton glas, y digient, ac na deuent byth mwy i'w boeni drwy eu hymweliadau a'r lle. dilynod yr amaethwr ei chyfarwydyd i'r llythyren, a choronwyd ei waith a llwydiant. nid oed yr un o honynt i'w weled odeutu y caeau yn awr; ac yn lle sain eu caniadau soniarus, a glywid bob amser yn dyrchu o waen y rhos, nid oed dim ond y distawrwyd trylwyraf yn teyrnasu o gylch eu hen a'u hoff ymgyrchfan. hauod yr amaethwr wenith, &c., yn y caeau, ac yr oed y gwanwyn gwyrdlas wedi gwthio y gauaf odiar ei sed, ac ymdangosai y maesyd yn arderchog yn eu llifrai gwyrdleision a gwanwynol. ond un prydnawn, ar ol i'r haul ymgilio i yst felloed y gorllewin, tra yr oed amaethwr pantannas yn dychwelyd tua ei gartref cyfarfydwyd ag ef gan fod bychan ar ffurf dyn, yn gwisgo hugan goch; a phan daeth gyferbyn ag ef dadweiniod ei gled bychan, gan gyfeirio ei flaen at yr amaethwr, a dywedyd, dial a daw, y mae gerllaw. ceisiod yr amaethwr chwerthin, ond yr oed rhywbeth yn edrychiad sarrug a llym y gwr bychan ag a barod ido deimlo yn hynod o annymunol. ychydig o nosweithiau yn diwedarach, pan oed y teulu ar ymneillduo i'w gorphwysleoed, dychrynwyd hwy yn fawr iawn gan drwst, fel pe bydai y ty yn syrthio i lawr bendramwnwgl, ac yn union ar ol i'r twrf beidio, clywent y geiriau bygythiol a ganlyn--a dim yn rhagor--yn cael eu parablu yn uchel, daw dial. pan oed yr yd wedi cael ei fedi ac yn barod i gael ei gywain i'r ysgubor, yn sydyn ryw noswaith llosgwyd ef fel nad oed yr un dywysen na gwelltyn i'w gael yn un man o'r caeau, ac nis gallasai neb fod wedi gosod yr yd ar dan ond bendith y mamau. fel ag y mae yn naturiol i ni fedwl teimlod yr amaethwr yn fawr oherwyd y tro, ac edifarhaod yn ei galon darfod ido erioed wrando a gwneuthur yn ol cyfarwydyd yr hen reibwraig, ac felly dwyn arno digofaint a chasineb bendith y mamau. drannoeth i'r noswaith y llosgwyd yr yd fel yr oed yn arolygu y difrod achoswyd gan y tan, wele'r gwr bychan ag ydoed wedi ei gyfarfod ychydig o diwrnodau yn flaenorol yn ei gyfarfod eilwaith a chyda threm herfeidiol pwyntiod ei gledyf ato gan dywedyd, nid yw ond dechreu. trod gwyneb yr amaethwr cyn wynned a'r marmor, a safod gan alw y gwr bychan yn ol, ond bu y còr yn hynod o wydn ac anewyllysgar i droi ato, ond ar ol hir erfyn arno trod yn ei ol gan ofyn yn sarrug beth yr oed yr amaethwr yn ei geisio, yr hwn a hysbysod ido ei fod yn berffaith fodlon i adael y caeau lle yr oed eu hoff ymgyrchfan i dyfu yn don eilwaith, a rhodi caniatad idynt i dyfod idynt pryd y dewisent, ond yn unig idynt beidio dial eu llid yn mhellach arno ef. 'na,' oed yr atebiad penderfynol, 'y mae gair y brenin wedi ei roi y byd ido ymdial arnat hyd eithaf ei allu ac nid oes dim un gallu ar wyneb y greadigaeth a bair ido gael ei dynnu yn ol.' dechreuod yr amaethwr wylo ar hyn, ond yn mhen ychydig hysbysod y gwr bychan y bydai ido ef siarad a'i bennaeth ar y mater, ac y cawsai efe wybod y canlyniad ond ido dyfod i'w gyfarfod ef yn y fan honno amser machludiad haul drennyd. adawod yr amaethwr dyfod i'w gyfarfod, a phan daeth yr amser apwyntiedig o amgylch ido i gyfarfod a'r bychan cafod ef yno yn ei aros, ac hysbysod ido fod y pennaeth wedi ystyried ei gais yn difrifol, ond gan fod ei air bob amser yn anghyfnewidiol y buasai y dialed bygythiedig yn rhwym o gymeryd lle ar y teulu, ond ar gyfrif ei edifeirwch ef na chawsai digwyd yn ei amser ef nac eido ei blant. llonydod hynny gryn lawer ar fedwl terfysglyd yr amaethwr, a dechreuod bendith y mamau dalu eu hymweliadau a'r lle eilwaith a mynych y clywid sain eu cerdoriaeth felusber yn codi o'r caeau amgylchynol yn ystod y nos. pasiod canrif heibio heb i'r dialed bygythiedig gael ei gyflawni, ac er fod teulu pantannas yn cael eu hadgofio yn awr ac eilwaith, y buasai yn sicr o digwyd hwyr neu hwyrach, eto wrth hir glywed y waed, daw dial, ymgynefinasant a hi nes eu bod yn barod i gredu na fuasai dim yn dyfod o'r bygythiad byth. yr oed etifed pantannas yn caru a merch i dirfediannyd cymydogaethol a breswyliai mewn tydyn o'r enw pen craig daf. yr oed priodas y par dedwyd i gymeryd lle yn mhen ychydig wythnosau ac ymdangosai rhieni y cwpl ieuanc yn hynod o fodlon i'r ymuniad teuluol ag oed ar gymeryd lle. yr oed yn amser y nadolig--a thalod y darpar wraig ieuanc ymweliad a theulu ei darpar wr, ac yr oed yno wled o wyd rostiedig yn baratoedig gogyfer a'r achlysur. eistedai y cwmni odeutu y tan i adrod rhyw chwedlau difyrrus er mwyn pasio yr amser, pryd y cawsant eu dychrynu yn fawr gan lais treidgar yn dyrchafu megis o wely yr afon yn gwaedi daeth amser ymdïal. aethant oll allan i wrando a glywent y lleferyd eilwaith, ond nid oed dim i'w glywed ond brochus drwst y dwfr wrth raiadru dros glogwyni aruthrol y cerwyni. ond ni chawsant aros i wrando yn hir iawn cyn idynt glywed yr un lleferyd eilwaith yn dyrchafu i fyny yn uwch na swn y dwfr pan yn bwrlymu dros ysgwydau y graig, ac yn gwaedi, daeth yr amser. nis gallent dyfalu beth yr oed yn ei arwydo, a chymaint ydoed eu braw a'u syndod fel nad allent lefaru yr un gair a'u gilyd. yn mhen ennyd dychwelasant i'r ty a chyn idynt eisted credent yn dios fod yr adeilad yn cael ei ysgwyd id ei sylfeini gan ryw dwrf y tu allan. pan yr oed yr oll wedi cael eu parlysio gan fraw, wele fenyw fechan yn gwneuthur ei hymdangosiad ar y bwrd o'u blaen, yr hwn oed yn sefyll yn agos i'r ffenestr. 'beth yr wyt yn ei geisio yma, y peth bychan hagr?' holai un o'r gwydfodolion. 'nid oes gennyf unrhyw neges a thi, y gwr hir dafod,' oed atebiad y fenyw fechan. 'ond yr wyf wedi cael fy anfon yma i adrod rhyw bethau ag syd ar digwyd i'r teulu hwn, a theulu arall o'r gymydogaeth ag a dichon fod o dydordeb idynt, ond gan i mi derbyn y fath sarhad odiar law y gwr du ag syd yn eisted yn y cornel, ni fyd i mi godi y llen ag oed yn cudio y dyfodol allan o'u golwg.' 'atolwg os oes yn dy fediant ryw wybodaeth parth dyfodol rhai o honom ag a fydai yn dydorol i ni gael ei glywed, dwg hi allan,' ebai un arall o'r gwydfodolion. 'na wnaf, ond yn unig hysbysu, fod calon gwyryf fel llong ar y traeth yn methu cyrraed y porthlad oherwyd digalondid y pilot.' a chyda ei bod yn llefaru y gair diwedaf diflannod o'u gwyd, na wydai neb i ba le na pha fod! drwy ystod ci hymweliad hi, peidiod y waed a godasai o'r afon, ond yn fuan ar ol idi diflannu, dechreuod eilwaith a chyhoedi daeth amser dial, ac ni pheidiod am hir amser. yr oed y cynulliad wedi cael eu mediannu a gormod o fraw i fedru llefaru yr un gair, ac yr oed llen o brudder yn daenedig dros wyneb pob un o honynt. daeth amser idynt i ymwahanu, ac aeth rhyderch y mab i hebrwng gwerfyl ei gariadferch tua phen craig daf, o ba siwrnai ni dychwelod byth. cyn ymadael a'i fun dywedir idynt dyngu bythol ffydlondeb i'w gilyd, pe heb weled y naill y llall byth ond hynny, ac nad oed dim a allai beri idynt anghofio eu gilyd. mae yn debygol i'r llanc rhyderch pan yn dychwelyd gartref gael ei hun odifewn i un o gylchoed bendith y mamau, ac yna idynt ei hud-denu i mewn i un o'u hogofau yn nharren y cigfrain, ac yno y bu. y mae yn llawn bryd i ni droi ein gwynebau yn ol tua phantannas a phen craig daf. yr oed rhieni y bachgen anffodus yn mron gwallgofi. nid oed gandynt yr un drychfedwl i ba le i fyned i chwilio am dano, ac er chwilio yn mhob man a phob lle methwyd yn glir a dyfod o hyd ido, na chael gair o'i hanes. ychydig i fyny yn y cwm mewn ogof dandaearol trigfannai hen feudwy oedrannus, yr hwn hefyd a ystyrrid yn dewin, o'r enw gweiryd. aethant yn mhen ychydig wythnosau i ofyn ido ef, a fedrai rodi idynt ryw wybodaeth parthed i'w mab colledig--ond i ychydig bwrpas. ni wnaeth yr hyn a adrodod hwnnw wrthynt ond dyfnhau y clwyf a rhoi golwg fwy anobeithiol fyth ar yr amgylchiad. ar ol idynt ei hysbysu ynghylch ymdangosiad y fenyw fechan ynghyd a'r llais wylofus a glywsent yn dyrchafu o'r afon y nos yr aeth ar goll, hysbysod efe idynt mai y farn fygythiedig ar y teulu gan fendith y mamau oed wedi godiwedid y llanc, ac nad oed o un diben idynt fedwl cael ei weled byth mwyach! ond feallai y gwnelai ei ymdangosiad yn mhen oesau, ond dim yn eu hamser hwy. pasiai yr amser heibio, a chwydod yr wythnosau i fisoed, a'r misoed i flynydoed, a chasglwyd tad a mam rhyderch at eu tadau. yr oed y lle o hyd yn parhau yr un, ond y preswylwyr yn newid yn barhaus, ac yr oed yr adgofion am ei golledigaeth yn darfod yn gyflym, ond er hynny yr oed un yn disgwyl ei dychweliad yn ol yn barhaus, ac yn gobeithio megis yn erbyn gobaith am gael ei weled eilwaith. bob boreu gyda bod dorau y wawr yn ymagor dros gaerog fynydoed y dwyrain gwelid hi bob tywyd yn rhedeg i ben bryn bychan, a chyda llygaid yn orlawn o dagrau hiraethlon syllai i bob cyfeiriad i edrych a ganfydai ryw argoel fod ei hanwylyd yn dychwelyd; ond i dim pwrpas. canol dyd gwelid hi eilwaith yn yr un man, a phan ymgollai yr haul fel pelen eiriasgoch o dân dros y terfyngylch, yr oed hi yno. edrychai nes yn agos bod yn dall, ac wylai ei henaid allan o dyd i dyd ar ol anwyldyn ei chalon. o'r diwed aeth y rhai syd yn edrych drwy y ffenestri i omed eu gwasanaeth idi, ac yr oed y pren almon yn coroni ei phen a'i flagur gwyryfol, ond parhai hi i edrych, ond nid oed neb yn dod. yn llawn o dydiau ac yn aedfed i'r bed rhodwyd terfyn ar ei holl obeithion a'i disgwyliadau gan angeu, a chludwyd ei gwedillion marwol i fynwent hen gapel y fan. pasiai blynydoed heibio fel mwg, ac oesau fel cysgodion y boreu, ac nid oed neb yn fyw ag oed yn cofio rhyderch, ond adrodid ei golliad disymwyth yn aml. dylasem fynegu na welwyd yr un o fendith y mamau odeutu y gymydogaeth wedi ei golliad, a pheidiod sain eu cerdoriaeth o'r nos honno allan. yr oed rhyderch wedi cael ei hud-denu i fyned gyda bendith y mamau--ac aethant ag ef i ffwrd i'w hogof. ar ol ido aros yno dros ychydig o diwrnodau fel y tybiai, gofynnod am ganiatad i dychwelyd, yr hyn a rwyd ganiatawyd ido gan y brenin. daeth allan o'r ogof, ac yr oed yn ganol dyd braf, a'r haul yn llewyrchu odiar fynwes ffurfafen digwmwl. cerdod yn mlaen o darren y cigfrain hyd nes ido dyfod i olwg capel y fan, ond gymaint oed ei syndod pan y gwelod nad oed yr un capel yno! pa le yr oed wedi bod, a pha faint o amser? gyda theimladau cymysgedig cyfeiriod ei gamrau tua phen craig daf, cartref-le ei anwylyd, ond nid oed hi yno, ac nid oed yn adwaen yr un dyn ag oed yno chwaith. ni fedrai gael gair o hanes ei gariad a chymerod y rhai a breswylient yno mai gwallgofdyn ydoed. prysurod eilwaith tua phantannas, ac yr oed ei syndod yn fwy fyth yno! nid oed yn adwaen yr un o honynt, ac ni wydent hwythau dim am dano yntau. o'r diwed daeth gwr y ty i fewn, ac yr oed hwnnw yn cofio clywed ei dad cu yn adrod am lanc ag oed wedi myned yn disymwyth i goll er ys peth cannoed o flynydoed yn ol, ond na wydai neb i ba le. rywfod neu gilyd tarawod gwr y ty ei ffon yn erbyn rhyderch, pa un a diflannod mewn cawod o lwch, ac ni chlywyd air o son beth daeth o hono mwyach. 'in one of the centuries gone by, there lived a husbandman on the farm of pantannas; and at that time the fairies used to pay frequent visits to several of the fields which belonged to him. he cherished in his bosom a considerable hatred for the "noisy, boisterous, and pernicious tribe," as he called them, and often did he long to be able to discover some way to rid the place of them. at last he was told by an old witch that the way to get rid of them was easy enough, and that she would tell him how to attain what he so greatly wished, if he gave her one evening's milking [ ] on his farm, and one morning's. he agreed to her conditions, and from her he received advice, which was to the effect that he was to plough all the fields where they had their favourite resorts, and that, if they found the green sward gone, they would take offence, and never return to trouble him with their visits to the spot. 'the husbandman followed the advice to the letter, and his work was crowned with success. not a single one of them was now to be seen about the fields, and, instead of the sound of their sweet music, which used to be always heard rising from the coarse meadow land, the most complete silence now reigned over their favourite resort. 'he sowed his land with wheat and other grain; the verdant spring had now thrust winter off its throne, and the fields appeared splendid in their vernal and green livery. 'but one evening, when the sun had retired to the chambers of the west, and when the farmer of pantannas was returning home, he was met by a diminutive being in the shape of a man, with a red coat on. when he had come right up to him, he unsheathed his little sword, and, directing the point towards the farmer, he said:-- vengeance cometh, fast it approacheth. 'the farmer tried to laugh, but there was something in the surly and stern looks of the little fellow which made him feel exceedingly uncomfortable. 'a few nights afterwards, as the family were retiring to rest, they were very greatly frightened by a noise, as though the house was falling to pieces; and, immediately after the noise, they heard a voice uttering loudly the threatening words--and nothing more:-- vengeance cometh. 'when, however, the corn was reaped and ready to be carried to the barn, it was, all of a sudden, burnt up one night, so that neither an ear nor a straw of it could be found anywhere in the fields; and now nobody could have set the corn on fire but the fairies. 'as one may naturally suppose, the farmer felt very much on account of this event, and he regretted in his heart having done according to the witch's direction, and having thereby brought upon him the anger and hatred of the fairies. 'the day after the night of the burning of the corn, as he was surveying the destruction caused by the fire, behold the little fellow, who had met him a few days before, met him again, and, with a challenging glance, he pointed his sword towards him, saying:-- it but beginneth. the farmer's face turned as white as marble, and he stood calling the little fellow to come back; but the dwarf proved very unyielding and reluctant to turn to him; but, after long entreaty, he turned back, asking the farmer, in a surly tone, what he wanted, when he was told by the latter that he was quite willing to allow the fields, in which their favourite resorts had been, to grow again into a green sward, and to let them frequent them as often as they wished, provided they would no further wreak their anger on him. '"no," was the determined reply, "the word of the king has been given, that he will avenge himself on thee to the utmost of his power; and there is no power on the face of creation that will cause it to be withdrawn." 'the farmer began to weep at this, and, after a while, the little fellow said that he would speak to his lord on the matter, and that he would let him know the result, if he would come there to meet him at the hour of sunset on the third day after. 'the farmer promised to meet him; and, when the time appointed for meeting the little man came, he found him awaiting him, and he was told by him that his lord had seriously considered his request, but that, as the king's word was ever immutable, the threatened vengeance was to take effect on the family. on account, however, of his repentance, it would not be allowed to happen in his time or that of his children. 'that calmed the disturbed mind of the farmer a good deal. the fairies began again to pay frequent visits to the place, and their melodious singing was again heard at night in the fields around. 'a century passed by without seeing the threatened vengeance carried into effect; and, though the pantannas family were reminded now and again that it was certain sooner or later to come, nevertheless, by long hearing the voice that said-- vengeance cometh, they became so accustomed to it, that they were ready to believe that nothing would ever come of the threat. 'the heir of pantannas was paying his addresses to the daughter of a neighbouring landowner who lived at the farm house called pen craig daf, and the wedding of the happy pair was to take place in a few weeks, and the parents on both sides appeared exceedingly content with the union that was about to take place between the two families. 'it was christmas time, and the intended wife paid a visit to the family of her would-be husband. there they had a feast of roast goose prepared for the occasion. 'the company sat round the fire to relate amusing tales to pass the time, when they were greatly frightened by a piercing voice, rising, as it were, from the bed of the river [ ], and shrieking:-- the time for revenge is come. 'they all went out to listen if they could hear the voice a second time, but nothing was to be heard save the angry noise of the water as it cascaded over the dread cliffs of the kerwyni; they had not long, however, to wait till they heard again the same voice rising above the noise of the waters, as they boiled over the shoulders of the rock, and crying:-- the time is come. 'they could not guess what it meant, and so great was their fright and astonishment, that no one could utter a word to another. shortly they returned to the house, when they believed that beyond doubt the building was being shaken to its foundations by some noise outside. when all were thus paralysed by fear, behold a little woman made her appearance on the table, which stood near the window. '"what dost thou, ugly little thing, want here?" asked one of those present. '"i have nothing to do with thee, o man of the meddling tongue," said the little woman, "but i have been sent here to recount some things that are about to happen to this family and another family in the neighbourhood, things that might be of interest to them; but, as i have received such an insult from the black fellow that sits in the corner, the veil that hides them from their sight shall not be lifted by me." '"pray," said another of those present, "if thou hast in thy possession any knowledge with regard to the future of any one of us that would interest us to hear, bring it forth." '"no, i will but merely tell you that a certain maiden's heart is like a ship on the coast, unable to reach the harbour because the pilot has lost heart." 'as soon as she had cried out the last word, she vanished, no one knew whither or how. 'during her visit, the cry rising from the river had stopped, but soon afterwards it began again to proclaim:-- the time of vengeance is come; nor did it cease for a long while. the company had been possessed by too much terror for one to be able to address another, and a sheet of gloom had, as it were, been spread over the face of each. the time for parting came, and rhyderch the heir went to escort gwerfyl, his lady-love, home towards pen craig daf, a journey from which he never returned. 'before bidding one another "good-bye," they are said to have sworn to each other eternal fidelity, even though they should never see one another from that moment forth, and that nothing should make the one forget the other. 'it is thought probable that the young man rhyderch, on his way back towards home, got into one of the rings of the fairies, that they allured him into one of their caves in the ravens' rift, and that there he remained. 'it is high time for us now to turn back towards pantannas and pen craig daf. the parents of the unlucky youth were almost beside themselves: they had no idea where to go to look for him, and, though they searched every spot in the place, they failed completely to find him or any clue to his history. 'a little higher up the country, there dwelt, in a cave underground, an aged hermit called gweiryd, who was regarded also as a sorcerer. they went a few weeks afterwards to ask him whether he could give them any information about their lost son; but it was of little avail. what that man told them did but deepen the wound and give the event a still more hopeless aspect. when they had told him of the appearance of the little woman, and the doleful cry heard rising from the river on the night when their son was lost, he informed them that it was the judgement threatened to the family by the fairies that had overtaken the youth, and that it was useless for them to think of ever seeing him again: possibly he might make his appearance after generations had gone by, but not in their lifetime. 'time rolled on, weeks grew into months, and months into years, until rhyderch's father and mother were gathered to their ancestors. the place continued the same, but the inhabitants constantly changed, so that the memory of rhyderch's disappearance was fast dying away. nevertheless there was one who expected his return all the while, and hoped, as it were against hope, to see him once more. every morn, as the gates of the dawn opened beyond the castellated heights of the east, she might be seen, in all weathers, hastening to the top of a small hill, and, with eyes full of the tears of longing, gazing in every direction to see if she could behold any sign of her beloved's return; but in vain. at noon, she might be seen on the same spot again; she was also there at the hour when the sun was wont to hide himself, like a red-hot ball of fire, below the horizon. she gazed until she was nearly blind, and she wept forth her soul from day to day for the darling of her heart. at last they that looked out at the windows began to refuse their service, and the almond tree commenced to crown her head with its virgin bloom. she continued to gaze, but he came not. full of days, and ripe for the grave, death put an end to all her hopes and all her expectations. her mortal remains were buried in the graveyard of the old chapel of the fan [ ]. 'years passed away like smoke, and generations like the shadows of the morning, and there was no longer anybody alive who remembered rhyderch, but the tale of his sudden missing was frequently in people's mouths. and we ought to have said that after the event no one of the fairies was seen about the neighbourhood, and the sound of their music ceased from that night. 'rhyderch had been allured by them, and they took him away into their cave. when he had stayed there only a few days, as he thought, he asked for permission to return, which was readily granted him by the king. he issued from the cave when it was a fine noon, with the sun beaming from the bosom of a cloudless firmament. he walked on from the ravens' rift until he came near the site of the fan chapel; but what was his astonishment to find no chapel there! where, he wondered, had he been, and how long away? so with mixed feelings he directed his steps towards pen craig daf, the home of his beloved one, but she was not there nor any one whom he knew either. he could get no word of the history of his sweetheart, and those who dwelt in the place took him for a madman. 'he hastened then to pantannas, where his astonishment was still greater. he knew nobody there, and nobody knew anything about him. at last the man of the house came in, and he remembered hearing his grandfather relating how a youth had suddenly disappeared, nobody knew whither, some hundreds of years previously. somehow or other the man of the house chanced to knock his walking-stick against rhyderch, when the latter vanished in a shower of dust. nothing more was ever heard of him.' before leaving glamorgan, i may add that mr. sikes associates fairy ladies with crymlyn lake, between briton ferry and swansea; but, as frequently happens with him, he does not deign to tell us whence he got the legend. 'it is also believed,' he says at p. , 'that a large town lies swallowed up there, and that the gwraged annwn have turned the submerged walls to use as the superstructure of their fairy palaces. some claim to have seen the towers of beautiful castles lifting their battlements beneath the surface of the dark waters, and fairy bells are at times heard ringing from those towers.' so much by the way: we shall return to crymlyn in chapter vii. xii. the other day, as i was going to gwent, i chanced to be in the golden valley in herefordshire, where the names in the churchyards seem largely to imply a welsh population, though the welsh language has not been heard there for ages. among others i noticed joneses and williamses in abundance at abbey dore, evanses and bevans, morgans, prossers and prices, not to mention sayces--that is to say, welshmen of english extraction or education--a name which may also be met with in little england in pembrokeshire, and probably on other english-welsh borders. happening to have to wait for a train at the abbey dore station, i got into conversation with the tenants of a cottage hard by, and introduced the subject of the fairies. the old man knew nothing about them, but his wife, elizabeth williams, had been a servant girl at a place called pen pôch, which she pronounced with the welsh guttural ch: she said that it is near llandeilo cressenny in monmouthshire. it was about forty years ago when she served at pen pôch, and her mistress' name was evans, who was then about fifty years of age. now mrs. evans was in the habit of impressing on her servant girls' minds, that, unless they made the house tidy before going to bed, and put everything in its place overnight, the little people--the fairies, she thinks she called them--would leave them no rest in bed at night, but would come and 'pinch them like.' if they put everything in its place, and left the house 'tidy like,' it would be all right, and 'nobody would do anything to them like.' that is all i could get from her without prompting her, which i did at length by suggesting to her that the fairies might leave the tidy servants presents, a shilling 'on the hearth or the hob like.' yes, she thought there was something of that sort, and her way of answering me suggested that this was not the first time she had heard of the shilling. she had never been lucky enough to have had one herself, nor did she know of anybody else that 'had got it like.' during a brief but very pleasant sojourn at llanover in may, , i made some inquiries about the fairies, and obtained the following account from william williams, who now, in his seventieth year, works in lady llanover's garden:--'i know of a family living a little way from here at ----, or as they would now call it in english ----, whose ancestors, four generations ago, used to be kind to bendith y mamau, and always welcomed their visits by leaving at night a basinful of bread and milk for them near the fire. it always used to be eaten up before the family got up in the morning. but one night a naughty servant man gave them instead of milk a bowlful of urine [ ]. they, on finding it out, threw it about the house and went away disgusted. but the servant watched in the house the following night. they found him out, and told him that he had made fools of them, and that in punishment for his crime there would always be a fool, i.e. an idiot, in his family. as a matter of fact, there was one among his children afterwards, and there is one in the family now. they have always been in a bad way ever since, and they never prosper. the name of the man who originally offended the fairies was ----; and the name of the present fool among his descendants is ----.' for evident reasons it is not desirable to publish the names. williams spoke also of a sister to his mother, who acted as servant to his parents. there were, he said, ten stepping stones between his father's house and the well, and on every one of these stones his aunt used to find a penny every morning, until she made it known to others, when, of course, the pennies ceased coming. he did not know why the fairies gave money to her, unless it was because she was a most tidy servant. another llanover gardener remembered that the fairies used to change children, and that a certain woman called nani fach in that neighbourhood was one of their offspring; and he had been told that there were fairy rings in certain fields not far away in llanover parish. a third gardener, who is sixty-eight years of age, and is likewise in lady llanover's employ, had heard it said that servant girls about his home were wont to sweep the floor clean at night, and to throw crumbs of bread about on it before going to bed. lastly, mrs. gardner of ty uchaf llanover, who is ninety years of age, remembers having a field close to capel newyd near blaen afon, in llanover uchaf, pointed out to her as containing fairy rings; and she recollects hearing, when she was a child, that a man had got into one of them. he remained away from home, as they always did, she said, a whole year and a day; but she has forgotten how he was recovered. then she went on to say that her father had often got up in the night to see that his horses were not taken out and ridden about the fields by bendith y mamau; for they were wont to ride people's horses late at night round the four corners of the fields, and thereby they often broke the horses' wind. this, she gave me to understand, was believed in the parish of llanover and that part of the country generally. so here we have an instance probably of confounding fairies with witches. i have not the means at my command of going at length into the folklore of gwent, so i will merely mention where the reader may find a good deal about it. i have already introduced the name of the credulous old christian, edmund jones of the tranch: he published at trefecca in the year a small volume entitled, a geographical, historical, and religious account of the parish of aberystruth in the county of monmouth, to which are added memoirs of several persons of note who lived in the said parish. in , by which time he seems to have left this world for another, where he expected to understand all about the fairies and their mysterious life, a small volume of his was published at newport, bearing the title, a relation of apparitions of spirits in the county of monmouth and the principality of wales, with other notable relations from england, together with observations about them, and instructions from them, designed to confute and to prevent the infidelity of denying the being and apparition of spirits, which tends to irreligion and atheism. by the late rev. edmund jones, of the tranch. naturally those volumes have been laid under contribution by mr. sikes, though the tales about apparitions in them are frequently of a ghastly nature, and sometimes loathsome: on the whole, they remind me more than anything else i have ever read of certain breton tales which breathe fire and brimstone: all such begin to be now out of fashion in protestant countries. i shall at present only quote a passage of quite a different nature from the earlier volume, p. --it is an interesting one, and it runs thus:--'it was the general opinion in times past, when these things were very frequent, that the fairies knew whatever was spoken in the air without the houses, not so much what was spoken in the houses. i suppose they chiefly knew what was spoken in the air at night. it was also said that they rather appeared to an uneven number of persons, to one, three, five, &c.; and oftener to men than to women. thomas william edmund, of havodavel, an honest pious man, who often saw them, declared that they appeared with one bigger than the rest going before them in the company.' with the notion that the fairies heard everything uttered out of doors may be compared the faculty attributed to the great magician king, math ab mathonwy, of hearing any whisper whatsoever that met the wind: see the oxford mabinogion, p. , and guest's mabinogion, iii. ; see also respectively pp. , , and pp. , , as to the same faculty belonging to the fairy people of the corannians, and the strange precautions taken against them by the brothers llûd and llevelys. chapter iii fairy ways and words heavens defend me from that welsh fairy! shakespeare. in the previous chapters, the fairy lore of the principality was hastily skimmed without any method; and i fear that, now i have to reproduce some of the things which i gleaned somewhat later, there will be, if possible, still less method. the general reader, in case he chances on these pages, will doubtless feel that, as soon as he has read a few of the tales, the rest seem to be familiar to him, and exceedingly tiresome. it may be, however, presumed that all men anxious to arrive at an idea as to the origin among us of the belief in fairies, will agree that we should have as large and exhaustive a collection as possible of facts on which to work. if we can supply the data without stint, the student of anthropology may be trusted in time to discover their value for his inductions, and their place in the history of the human race. i. in the course of the summer of [ ] i was a good deal in wales, especially carnarvonshire, and i made notes of a great many scraps of legends about the fairies, and other bits of folklore. i will now string some of them together as i found them. i began at trefriw [ ], in nant conwy, where i came across an old man, born and bred there, called morris hughes. he appears to be about seventy years of age: he formerly worked as a slater, but now he lives at llanrwst, and tries to earn a livelihood by angling. he told me that fairies came a long while ago to cowlyd farm, near cowlyd lake, with a baby to dress, and asked to be admitted into the house, saying that they would pay well for it. their request was granted, and they used to leave money behind them. one day the servant girl accidentally found they had also left some stuff they were in the habit of using in washing their children. she examined it, and, one of her eyes happening to itch, she rubbed it with the finger that had touched the stuff; so when she went to llanrwst fair she saw the same fairy folks there stealing cakes from a standing, and asked them why they did that. they inquired with what eye she saw them: she put her hand to the eye, and one of the fairies quickly rubbed it, so that she never saw any more of them. they were also very fond of bringing their children to be dressed in the houses between trefriw and llanrwst; and on the flat land bordering on the conwy they used to dance, frolic, and sing every moonlight night. evan thomas of sgubor gerrig used to have money from them. he has been dead, morris hughes said, over sixty years: he had on his land a sort of cowhouse where the fairies had shelter, and hence the pay. morris, when a boy, used to be warned by his parents to take care lest he should be stolen by the fairies. he knew thomas williams of bryn syllty, or, as he was commonly called, twm bryn syllty, who was a changeling. he was a sharp, small man, afraid of nothing. he met his death some years ago by drowning near eglwys fach, when he was about sixty-three years of age. there are relatives of his about llanrwst still: that is, relatives of his mother, if indeed she was his mother (os oed hi'n fam ido fo, ynté). lastly, morris had a tale about a mermaid cast ashore by a storm near conway. she entreated the fishermen who found her to help her back into her native element; and on their refusing to comply she prayed them to place her tail at least in the water. a very crude rhyme describes her dying of exposure to the cold, thus:-- y forforwyn ar y traeth, crio gwaedu'n arw wnaeth, ofn y deuai drycin drannoeth: yr hin yn oer a rhewi wnaeth. the stranded mermaid on the beach did sorely cry and sorely screech, afraid to bide the morrow's breeze: the cold it came, and she did freeze. but before expiring, the mermaid cursed the people of conway to be always poor, and conway has ever since, so goes the tale, laboured under the curse; so that when a stranger happens to bring a sovereign there, the conway folk, if silver is required, have to send across the water to llansanffraid for change. my next informant was john duncan maclaren, who was born in , and lives at trefriw. his father was a scotsman, but maclaren is in all other respects a welshman. he also knew the sgubor gerrig people, and that evan thomas and lowri his wife had exceeding great trouble to prevent their son roger from being carried away by the fairies. for the fairy maids were always trying to allure him away, and he was constantly finding fairy money. the fairy dance, and the playing and singing that accompanied it, used to take place in a field in front of his father's house; but lowri would never let her son go out after the sun had gone to his battlements (ar ol i'r haul fyn'd i lawr i gaera). the most dangerous nights were those when the moon shone brightly, and pretty wreaths of mist adorned the meadows by the river. maclaren had heard of a man, whom he called siôn catrin of tyn twll, finding a penny every day at the pistyll or water-spout near the house, when he went there to fetch water. the flat land between trefriw and llanrwst had on it a great many fairy rings, and some of them are, according to maclaren, still to be seen. there the fairies used to dance, and when a young man got into one of the rings the fairy damsels took him away; but he could be got out unharmed at the end of a year and a day, when he would be found dancing with them in the same ring: he must then be dexterously touched by some one of his friends with a piece of iron and dragged out at once. this is the way in which a young man whom my notes connect with a place called bryn glas was recovered. he had gone out with a friend, who lost him, and he wandered into a fairy ring. he had new shoes on at the time, and his friends brought him out at the end of the interval of a year and a day; but he could not be made to understand that he had been away more than five minutes, until he was asked to look at his new shoes, which were by that time in pieces. maclaren had also something to say concerning the history and habitat of the fairies. those of nant conwy dress in green; and his mother, who died about sixty-two years ago, aged forty-seven, had told him that they lived seven years on the earth, seven years in the air, and seven years underground. he also had a mermaid tale, like that of pergrin from dyfed, p. . a fisherman from llandrillo yn rhos, between colwyn and llandudno, had caught a mermaid in his net. she asked to be set free, promising that she would, in case he complied, do him a kindness. he consented, and one fine day, a long while afterwards, she suddenly peeped out of the water near him, and shouted: siôn ifan, cwyd dy rwyda' a thyn tua'r lan, 'john evans, take up thy nets and make for the shore.' he obeyed, and almost immediately there was a terrible storm, in which many fishermen lost their lives. the river conwy is the chief haunt of the mysterious afanc, already mentioned, p. , and maclaren stated that its name used to be employed within his memory to frighten girls and children: so much was it still dreaded. perhaps i ought to have stated that maclaren is very fond of music, and that he told me of a gentleman at conway who had taken down in writing a supposed fairy tune. i have made inquiries of the latter's son, mr. hennessy hughes of conway; but his father's papers seem to have been lost, so that he cannot find the tune in question, though he has heard of it. whilst on this question of music let me quote from the llwyd letter in the cambrian journal for , pp. - , on which i have already drawn, pp. - , above. the passage in point is to the following effect:-- 'i will leave these tales aside whilst i go as far as the ogo du, "the black cave," which is in the immediate vicinity of crigcieth [ ], and into which the musicians entered so far that they lost their way back. one of them was heard to play on his pipe, and another on his horn, about two miles from where they went in; and the place where the piper was heard is called braich y bib, and where the man with the horn was heard is called braich y cornor. i do not believe that even a single man doubts but that this is all true, and i know not how the airs called ffarwel dic y pibyd, "dick the piper's farewell," and ffarwel dwm bach, "little tom's farewell," had those names, unless it was from the musicians above mentioned. nor do i know that ned puw may not have been the third, and that the air called ffarwel ned puw, "ned pugh's farewell," may not have been the last he played before going into the cave. i cannot warrant this to be true, as i have only heard it said by one man, and he merely held it as a supposition, which had been suggested by this air of ffarwel dic y pibyd.' a story, however, mentioned by cyndelw in the brython for , p. , makes ned pugh enter the cave of tal y clegyr, which the writer in his article identifies with ness cliff, near shrewsbury. in that cave, which was regarded as a wonderful one, he says the musician disappeared, while the air he was playing, ffarwel ned puw, "ned pugh's farewell," was retained in memory of him. some account of the departure of ned pugh and of the interminable cave into which he entered, will be found given in a rambling fashion in the cambrian quarterly magazine (london, ), vol. i, pp. - , where the minstrel's welsh name is given as iolo ap huw. there we are told that he was last seen in the twilight of a misty halloween, and the notes of the tune he was last heard to play are duly given. one of the surmises as to iolo's ultimate fate is also recorded, namely, that in the other world he has exchanged his fiddle for a bugle, and become huntsman-in-chief to gwyn ab nûd, so that every halloween he may be found cheering cwn annwn, 'the hounds of the other world,' over cader idris [ ]. the same summer i fell in with mr. morris evans, of cerrig mân, near amlwch. he is a mining agent on the gwydir estate in the vale of conwy, but he is a native of the neighbourhood of parys mountain, in anglesey, where he acquired his knowledge of mining. he had heard fairy tales from his grandmother, grace jones, of llwyn ysgaw near mynyd mechell, between amlwch and holyhead. she died, nearly ninety years of age, over twenty years ago. she used to relate how she and others of her own age were wont in their youth to go out on bright moonlight nights to a spot near llyn y bwch. they seldom had to wait there long before they would hear exquisite music and behold a grand palace standing on the ground. the diminutive folks of fairyland would then come forth to dance and frolic. the next morning the palace would be found gone, but the grandmother used to pick up fairy money on the spot, and this went on regularly so long as she did not tell others of her luck. my informant, who is himself a man somewhat over fifty-two, tells me that at a place not far from llyn y bwch there were plenty of fairy rings to be seen in the grass; and it is in them the fairies were supposed to dance [ ]. from llanrwst i went up to see the bard and antiquary, mr. gethin jones. his house was prettily situated on the hillside on the left of the road as you approach the village of penmachno. i was sorry to find that his memory had been considerably impaired by a paralytic stroke from which he had suffered not long before. however, from his room he pointed out to me a spot on the other side of the machno, called y werdon, which means 'the green land,' or more literally, 'the greenery,' so to say. it was well known for its green, grassy fairy rings, formerly frequented by the tylwyth teg; and he said he could distinguish some of the rings even then from where he stood. the werdon is on the bennar, and the bennar is the high ground between penmachno and dolwydelan. the spot in question is on the part nearest to the conwy falls. this name, y werdon, is liable to be confounded with iwerdon, 'ireland,' which is commonly treated as if it began with the definite article, so that it is made into y werdon and werdon. the fairy werdon, in the radical form gwerdon, not only recalls to my mind the green isles called gwerdonau llïon, but also the saying, common in north wales, that a person in great anxiety 'sees y werdon.' thus, for instance, a man who fails to return to his family at the hour expected, and believes his people to be in great anxiety about him, expresses himself by saying that they will have 'seen the werdon on my account' (mi fydan' wedi gwel'd y werdon am dana'i). is that ireland, or is it the land of the fairies, the other world, in fact? if the latter, it might simply mean they will have died of anxiety; but i confess i have not so far been able to decide. i am not aware that the term occurs in any other form of expression than the one i have given; if it had, and if the werdon were spoken of in some other way, that might possibly clear up the difficulty. if it refers to ireland, it must imply that sighting ireland is equivalent to going astray at sea, meaning in this sort of instance, getting out of one's senses; but the welsh are not very much given to nautical expressions. it reminds me somewhat of gerald griffin's allusion to the phantom city, and the penalty paid by those who catch a glimpse of its turrets as the dividing waves expose them for a moment to view on the western coast of ireland:-- soon close the white waters to screen it, and the bodement, they say, of the wonderful sight, is death to the eyes that have seen it. the fairy glen above bettws y coed is called in welsh ffos 'nodyn, 'the sink of the abyss'; but mr. gethin jones told me that it was also called glyn y tylwyth teg, which is very probable, as some such a designation is required to account for the english name, 'the fairy glen.' people on the capel garmon side used to see the tylwyth playing there, and descending into the ffos or glen gently and lightly without occasioning themselves the least harm. the fairy glen was, doubtless, supposed to contain an entrance to the world below. this reminds one of the name of the pretty hollow running inland from the railway station at bangor. why should it be called nant uffern, or 'the hollow of hell'? can it be that there was a supposed entrance to the fairy world somewhere there? in any case, i am quite certain that welsh place-names involve allusions to the fairies much oftener than has been hitherto supposed; and i should be inclined to cite, as a further example, moel eilio [ ] or moel eilian, from the personal name eilian, to be mentioned presently. moel eilian is a mountain under which the fairies were supposed to have great stores of treasure. but to return to mr. gethin jones, i had almost forgotten that i have another instance of his in point. he showed me a passage in a paper which he wrote in welsh some time ago on the antiquities of yspyty ifan. he says that where the serw joins the conwy there is a cave, to which tradition asserts that a harpist was once allured by the tylwyth teg. he was, of course, not seen afterwards, but the echo of the music made by him and them on their harps is still to be heard a little lower down, under the field called to this day gweirglod y telynorion, 'the harpers' meadow': compare the extract from edward llwyd's correspondence at p. above. mr. gethin jones also spoke to me of the lake called llyn pencraig, which was drained in hopes of finding lead underneath it, an expectation not altogether doomed to disappointment, and he informed me that its old name was llyn llifon; so the moor around it was called gwaen llifon. it appears to have been a large lake, but only in wet weather, and to have no deep bed. the names connected with the spot are now nant gwaen llifon and the gwaith (or mine) of gwaen llifon: they are, i understand, within the township of trefriw. the name llyn llifon is of great interest when taken in connexion with the triadic account of the cataclysm called the bursting of llyn llifon. mr. gethin jones, however, believed himself that llyn llïon was no other than bala lake, through which the dee makes her way. ii. one day in august of the same year, i arrived at dinas station, and walked down to llandwrog in order to see dinas dinlle, and to ascertain what traditions still existed there respecting caer arianrhod, llew llawgyffes, dylan eilton, and other names that figure in the mabinogi of math ab mathonwy. i called first on the schoolmaster, and he kindly took me to the clerk, hugh evans, a native of the neighbourhood of llangefni, in anglesey. he had often heard people talk of some women having once on a time come from tregar anthreg to cae'r 'loda', a place near the shore, to fetch food or water, and that when they looked back they beheld the town overflowed by the sea: the walls can still be seen at low water. gwennan was the name of one of the women, and she was buried at the place now called bed gwennan, or gwennan's grave. he had also heard the fairy tales of waen fawr and nant y bettws, narrated by the antiquary, owen williams of the former place. for instance, he had related to him the tale of the man who slept on a clump of rushes, and thought he was all the while in a magnificent mansion; see p. , above. now i should explain that tregar anthreg is to be seen at low water from dinas dinlle as a rock not far from the shore. the caranthreg which it implies is one of the modern forms to which caer arianrhod has been reduced; and to this has been prefixed a synonym of caer, namely, tref, reduced to tre', just as carmarthen is frequently called tre' gaerfyrdin. cae'r 'loda' is explained as cae'r aelodau', 'the field of the limbs'; but i am sorry to say that i forgot to note the story explanatory of the name. it is given, i think, to a farm, and so is bed gwennan likewise the name of a farm house. the tenant of the latter, william roberts, was at home when i visited the spot. he told me the same story, but with a variation: three sisters had come from tregan anrheg to fetch provisions, when their city was overflowed. gwen fled to the spot now called bed gwennan, elan to tydyn elan, or elan's holding, and maelan to rhos maelan, or maelan's moor; all three are names of places in the immediate neighbourhood. from dinas dinlle i was directed across lord newborough's grounds at glynllifon to pen y groes station; but on my way i had an opportunity of questioning several of the men employed at glynllifon. one of these was called william thomas solomon, an intelligent middle-aged man, who works in the garden there. he said that the three women who escaped from the submerged city were sisters, and that he had learned in his infancy to call them gwennan bi dôn, elan bi dôn, and maelan bi dôn. lastly, the name of the city, according to him, was tregan anthrod. i had the following forms of the name that day:--tregar anrheg, tregar anthreg, tregan anrheg, tregan anthreg, and tregan anthrod. all these are attempts to reproduce what might be written tre'-gaer-arianrhod. the modification of nrh into nthr is very common in north wales, and tregar anrheg seems to have been fashioned on the supposition that the name had something to do with anrheg, 'a gift.' tregan anthrod is undoubtedly the caer arianrhod, or 'fortress of arianrhod,' in the mabinogi, and it is duly marked as such in a map of speede's at the spot where it should be. now the arianrhod of the mabinogi of math could hardly be called a lady of rude virtue, and it is the idea in the neighbourhood that the place was inundated on account of the wickedness of the inhabitants. so it would appear that gwennan, elan, and maelan, arianrhod's sisters, were the just ones allowed to escape. arianrhod was probably drowned as the principal sinner in possession; but i did not find, as i expected, that the crime which called for such an expiation was in this instance that of playing cards on sunday. in fact, this part of the legend does not seem to have been duly elaborated as yet. i must now come back to solomon's bi dôn, which puzzles me not a little. arianrhod was daughter of dôn, and so several other characters in the same mabinogi were children of dôn. but what is bi dôn? i have noticed that all the welsh antiquaries who take don out of books invariably call that personage dòn or donn with a short o, which is wrong, and this has saved me from being deceived once or twice: so i take it that bi dôn is, as solomon asserted, a local expression of which he did not know the meaning. i can only add, in default of a better explanation, that bi dôn recalled to my mind what i had shortly before heard on my trip from aberdaron to bardsey island. my wife and i, together with two friends, engaged, after much eloquent haggling, a boat at the former place, but one of the men who were to row us insinuated a boy of his, aged four, into the boat, an addition which did not exactly add to the pleasures of that somewhat perilous trip amidst incomprehensible currents. but the aberdaron boatmen always called that child bi donn, which i took to have been a sort of imitation of an infantile pronunciation of 'baby john,' for his name was john, which welsh infants as a rule first pronounce donn: i can well remember the time when i did. this, applied to gwennan bi dôn, would imply that solomon heard it as a piece of nursery lore when he was a child, and that it meant simply--gwennan, baby or child of dôn. lastly, the only trace of dylan i could find was in the name of a small promontory, called variously by the glynllifon men pwynt maen tylen, which was solomon's pronunciation, and pwynt maen dulan. it is also known, as i was given to understand, as pwynt y wig: i believe i have seen it given in maps as maen dylan point. solomon told me the following fairy tale, and he was afterwards kind enough to have it written out for me. i give it in his own words, as it is peculiar in some respects:-- mi'r oed gwr a gwraig yn byw yn y garth dorwen [ ] ryw gyfnod maith yn ol, ag aethant i gaer'narfon i gyflogi morwyn ar dyd ffair g'langaeaf, ag yr oed yn arferiad gan feibion a merched y pryd hynny i'r rhai oed yn sefyll allan am lefyd aros yn top y maes presennol wrth boncan las oed yn y fan y lle saif y post-office presennol; aeth yr hen wr a'r hen wraig at y fan yma a gwelent eneth lan a gwallt melyn yn sefyll 'chydig o'r neilldu i bawb arall; aeth yr hen wraig ati a gofynnod i'r eneth oed arni eisiau lle. atebod fod, ag felly cyflogwyd yr eneth yn dioed a daeth i'w lle i'r amser penodedig. mi fydai yn arferiad yr adeg hynny o nydu ar ol swper yn hirnos y gauaf, ag fe fydai y forwyn yn myn'd i'r weirglod i nydu wrth oleu y lloer; ag fe fydai tylwyth teg yn dwad ati hi i'r weirglod i ganu a dawnsio. a ryw bryd yn y gwanwyn pan esdynnod y dyd diangod eilian gyd a'r tylwythion teg i ffwrd, ag ni welwyd 'mo'ni mwyach. mae y cae y gwelwyd hi diwethaf yn cael ei alw hyd y dyd hedyw yn gae eilian a'r weirglod yn weirglod y forwyn. mi'r oed hen wraig y garth dorwen yn arfer rhoi gwraged yn eu gwlâu, a bydai pawb yn cyrchu am dani o bob cyfeiriad; a rhyw bryd dyma wr bonedig ar ei geffyl at y drws ar noswaith loergan lleuad, a hithau yn glawio 'chydig ag yn niwl braid, i 'nol yr hen wreigan at ei wraig; ag felly aeth yn sgil y gwr dïarth ar gefn y march i ros y cowrt. ar ganol y rhos pryd hynny 'r oed poncan lled uchel yn debyg i hen amdiffynfa a llawer o gerrig mawrion ar ei phen a charned fawr o gerrig yn yr ochor ogledol idi, ag mae hi i'w gwel'd hyd y dyd hedyw dan yr enw bryn y pibion. pan gyrhaedasan' y lle aethan' i ogo' fawr ag aethan' i 'stafell lle'r oed y wraig yn ei gwely, a'r lle crandia' a welod yr hen wraig yrioed. ag fe roth y wraig yn ei gwely ag aeth at y tan i drin y babi; ag ar ol idi orphen dyna y gwr yn dod a photel i'r hen wraig i hiro llygaid y babi ag erfyn arni beidio a'i gyffwr' a'i llygaid ei hun. ond ryw fod ar ol rhoi y botel heibio fe daeth cosfa ar lygaid yr hen wraig a rhwbiod ei llygaid â'r un bys ag oed wedi bod yn rhwbio llygaid y baban a gwelod hefo 'r llygad hwnnw y wraig yn gorfed ar docyn o frwyn a rhedyn crinion mewn ogo' fawr o gerrig mawr o bob tu idi a 'chydig bach o dan mewn rhiw gornel, a gwelod mai eilian oed hi, ei hen forwyn, ag hefo'r llygad arall yn gwel'd y lle crandia' a welod yrioed. ag yn mhen ychydig ar ol hynny aeth i'r farchnad i gaer'narfon a gwelod y gwr a gofynnod ido--'pa sud mae eilian?' 'o y mae hi yn bur da,' medai wrth yr hen wraig: 'a pha lygad yr ydych yn fy ngwel'd?' 'hefo hwn,' medai hithau. cymerod babwyren ag a'i tynod allan ar unwaith. 'an old man and his wife lived at the garth dorwen in some period a long while ago. they went to carnarvon to hire a servant maid at the allhallows' [ ] fair; and it was the custom then for young men and women who stood out for places to station themselves at the top of the present maes, by a little green eminence which was where the present post-office stands. the old man and his wife went to that spot, and saw there a lass with yellow hair, standing a little apart from all the others; the old woman went to her and asked her if she wanted a place. she replied that she did, and so she hired herself at once and came to her place at the time fixed. in those times it was customary during the long winter nights that spinning should be done after supper. now the maid servant would go to the meadow to spin by the light of the moon, and the tylwyth teg used to come to her to sing and dance. but some time in the spring, when the days had grown longer, eilian escaped with the tylwyth teg, so that she was seen no more. the field where she was last seen is to this day called eilian's field, and the meadow is known as the maid's meadow. the old woman of garth dorwen was in the habit of putting women to bed, and she was in great request far and wide. some time after eilian's escape there came a gentleman on horseback to the door one night when the moon was full, while there was a slight rain and just a little mist, to fetch the old woman to his wife. so she rode off behind the stranger on his horse, and came to rhos y cowrt. now there was at that time, in the centre of the rhos, somewhat of a rising ground that looked like an old fortification, with many big stones on the top, and a large cairn of stones on the northern side: it is to be seen there to this day, and it goes by the name of bryn y pibion, but i have never visited the spot. when they reached the spot, they entered a large cave, and they went into a room where the wife lay in her bed; it was the finest place the old woman had seen in her life. when she had successfully brought the wife to bed, she went near the fire to dress the baby; and when she had done, the husband came to the old woman with a bottle of ointment [ ] that she might anoint the baby's eyes; but he entreated her not to touch her own eyes with it. somehow after putting the bottle by, one of the old woman's eyes happened to itch, and she rubbed it with the same finger that she had used to rub the baby's eyes. then she saw with that eye how the wife lay on a bundle of rushes and withered ferns in a large cave, with big stones all round her, and with a little fire in one corner; and she saw also that the lady was only eilian, her former servant girl, whilst, with the other eye, she beheld the finest place she had ever seen. not long afterwards the old midwife went to carnarvon to market, when she saw the husband, and said to him, "how is eilian?" "she is pretty well," said he to the old woman, "but with what eye do you see me?" "with this one," was the reply; and he took a bulrush and put her eye out at once.' that is exactly the tale, my informant tells me, as he heard it from his mother, who heard it from an old woman who lived at garth dorwen when his mother was a girl, about eighty-four years ago, as he guessed it to have been; but in his written version he has omitted one thing which he told me at glynllifon, namely, that, when the servant girl went out to the fairies to spin, an enormous amount of spinning used to be done. i mention this as it reminds me of the tales of other nations, where the girl who cannot spin straw into gold is assisted by a fairy, on certain conditions which are afterwards found very inconvenient. it may be guessed that in the case of eilian the conditions involved her becoming a fairy's wife, and that she kept to them. lastly, i should like the archæologists of carnarvonshire to direct their attention to bryn y pibion; for they might be expected to come across the remains there of a barrow or of a fort. iii. the same summer i happened to meet the rev. robert hughes, of uwchlaw'r ffynnon, near llanaelhaearn, a village on which tre'r ceiri, or the town of the keiri, looks down in its primitive grimness from the top of one of the three heights of the eifl, or rivals as english people call them. the district is remarkable for the longevity of its inhabitants, and mr. hughes counted fifteen farmers in his immediate neighbourhood whose average age was eighty-three; and four years previously the average age of eighteen of them was no less than eighty-five. he himself was, when i met him, seventy-one years of age, and he considered that he represented the traditions of more than a century and a half, as he was a boy of twelve when one of his grandfathers died at the age of ninety-two: the age reached by one of his grandmothers was all but equal, while his father died only a few years ago, after nearly reaching his ninety-fifth birthday. story-telling was kept alive in the parish of llanaelhaearn by the institution known there as the pilnos, or peeling night, when the neighbours met in one another's houses to spend the long winter evenings dressing hemp and carding wool, though i guess that a pilnos was originally the night when people met to peel rushes for rushlights. when they left these merry meetings they were ready, as mr. hughes says, to see anything. in fact, he gives an instance of some people coming from a pilnos across the mountain from nant gwrtheyrn to llithfaen, and finding the fairies singing and dancing with all their might: they were drawn in among them and found themselves left alone in the morning on the heather. indeed, mr. hughes has seen the fairies himself: it was on the pwllheli road, as he was returning in the grey of the morning from the house of his fiancée when he was twenty-seven. the fairies he saw came along riding on wee horses: his recollection is that he now and then mastered his eyes and found the road quite clear, but the next moment the vision would return, and he thought he saw the diminutive cavalcade as plainly as possible. similarly, a man of the name of solomon evans, when, thirty years ago, making his way home late at night through glynllifon park, found himself followed by quite a crowd of little creatures, which he described as being of the size of guinea pigs and covered with red and white spots. he was an ignorant man, who knew no better than to believe to the day of his death, some eight or nine years ago, that they were demons. this is probably a blurred version of a story concerning cwn annwn, 'hell hounds,' such as the following, published by mr. o. m. edwards in his cymru for , p. , from mr. j. h. roberts' essay mentioned above at p. :--'ages ago as a man who had been engaged on business, not the most creditable in the world, was returning in the depth of night across cefn creini, and thinking in a downcast frame of mind over what he had been doing, he heard in the distance a low and fear-inspiring bark; then another bark, and another, and then half a dozen and more. ere long he became aware that he was being pursued by dogs, and that they were cwn annwn. he beheld them coming: he tried to flee, but he felt quite powerless and could not escape. nearer and nearer they came, and he saw the shepherd with them: his face was black and he had horns on his head. they had come round him and stood in a semicircle ready to rush upon him, when he had a remarkable deliverance: he remembered that he had in his pocket a small cross, which he showed them. they fled in the greatest terror in all directions, and this accounts for the proverb, mwy na'r cythraul at y groes (any more than the devil to the cross).' that is mr. roberts' story; but several allusions have already been made to cwn annwn. it would be right probably to identify them in the first instance with the pack with which arawn, king of annwn, is found hunting by pwyll, king of dyfed, when the latter happens to meet him in glyn cuch in his own realm. then in a poem in the black book of carmarthen we find gwyn ab nûd with a pack led by dormarth, a hound with a red snout which he kept close to the ground when engaged in the chase; similarly in the story of iolo ab huw the dogs are treated as belonging to gwyn. but on the whole the later idea has more usually been, that the devil is the huntsman, that his dogs give chase in the air, that their quarry consists of the souls of the departed, and that their bark forebodes a death, since they watch for the souls of men about to die. this, however, might be objected to as pagan; so i have heard the finishing touch given to it in the neighbourhood of ystrad meurig, by one who, like mr. pughe, explained that it is the souls only of notoriously wicked men and well-known evil livers. with this limitation the pack [ ] seems in no immediate danger of being regarded as poaching. to return to llanaelhaearn, it is right to say that good spirits too, who attend on good calvinists, are there believed in. morris hughes, of cwm corryn, was the first calvinistic methodist at llanaelhaearn; he was great-grandfather to robert hughes' wife; and he used to be followed by two pretty little yellow birds. he would call to them, 'wryd, wryd!' and they would come and feed out of his hand, and when he was dying they came and flapped their wings against his window. this was testified to by john thomas, of moelfre bach, who was present at the time. thomas died some twenty-five years ago, at the age of eighty-seven. i have heard this story from other people, but i do not know what to make of it, though i may add that the little birds are believed to have been angels. in mr. rees' welsh saints, pp. - , gwryd is given as the name of a friar who lived about the end of the twelfth century, and has been commemorated on november ; and the author adds a note referring to the cambrian register for , vol. iii. p. , where it is said that gwryd relieved the bard einion ab gwalchmai of some oppression, probably mental, which had afflicted him for seven years. is one to suppose that gwryd sent two angels in the form of little birds to protect the first llanaelhaearn methodist? the call 'wryd, wryd,' would seem to indicate that the name was not originally gwryd, but wryd, to be identified possibly with the pictish name uoret in an inscription at st. vigean's, near arbroath, and to be distinguished from the welsh word gwryd, 'valour,' and from the welsh name gwriad, representing what in its gaulish form was viriatus. we possibly have the name wryd in hafod wryd, a place in the machno valley above bettws y coed; otherwise one would have expected hafod y gwryd, making colloquially, hafod gwryd. mr. hughes told me a variety of things about nant gwrtheyrn, one of the spots where the vortigern story is localized. the nant is a sort of a cul de sac hollow opening to the sea at the foot of the eifl. there is a rock there called y farches, and the angle of the sea next to the old castle, which seems to be merely a mound, is called y llynclyn, or 'the whirlpool'; and this is perhaps an important item in the localizing of vortigern's city there. i was informed by mr. hughes that the grave of olfyn is in this nant, with a razed church close by: both are otherwise quite unknown to me. coming away from this weird spot to the neighbourhood of celynnog, one finds that the pennard of the mabinogi of math is now called pennarth, and has on it a well-known cromlech. of course, i did not leave mr. hughes without asking him about caer arianrhod, and i found that he called it tre' gaer anrheg: he described it as a stony patch in the sea, and it can, he says, be reached on foot when the ebb is at its lowest in spring and autumn. the story he had heard about it when he was a boy at school with david thomas, better known by his bardic name of dafyd du eryri, was the following:-- 'tregaer anrheg was inhabited by a family of robbers, and among other things they killed and robbed a man at glyn iwrch, near the further wall of glynnllifon park: this completed the measure of their lawlessness. there was one woman, however, living with them at tregaer anrheg, who was not related to them, and as she went out one evening with her pitcher to fetch water, she heard a voice crying out, dos i ben y bryn i wel'd rhyfedod, that is, go up the hill to see a wonder. she obeyed, and as soon as she got to the top of the hill, whereby was meant dinas dinlle, she beheld tregaer anrheg sinking in the sea.' as i have wandered away from the fairies i may add the following curious bit of legend which mr. hughes gave me:--'when st. beuno lived at celynnog, he used to go regularly to preach at llandwyn on the opposite side of the water, which he always crossed on foot. but one sunday he accidentally dropped his book of sermons into the water, and when he had failed to recover it a gylfin-hir, or curlew, came by, picked it up, and placed it on a stone out of the reach of the tide. the saint prayed for the protection and favour of the creator for the gylfin-hir: it was granted, and so nobody ever knows where that bird makes its nest.' iv. one day in august of the same summer i went to have another look at the old inscribed stone at gesail gyfarch [ ], near tremadoc, and, instead of returning the same way, i walked across to criccieth station; but on my way i was directed to call at a farm house called llwyn y mafon uchaf, where i was to see mr. edward llewelyn, a bachelor then seventy-six years of age. he is a native of the neighbourhood, and has always lived in it; moreover, he has now been for some time blind. he had heard a good many fairy tales. among others he mentioned john roberts, a slater from the garn, that is carn dolbenmaen, as having one day, when there was a little mist and a drizzling rain, heard a crowd of fairies talking together in great confusion, near a sheepfold on llwytmor mountain; but he was too much afraid to look at them. he also told me of a man at ystum cegid, a farm not far off, having married a fairy wife on condition that he was not to touch her with any kind of iron on pain of her leaving him for ever. then came the usual accident in catching a horse in order to go to a fair at carnarvon, and the immediate disappearance of the wife. at this point mr. llewelyn's sister interposed to the effect that the wife did once return and address her husband in the rhyme, os byd anwyd ar fy mab, &c.: see pp. , above. then mr. llewelyn enumerated several people who are of this family, among others a girl, who is, according to him, exactly like the fairies. this made me ask what the fairies are like, and he answered that they are small unprepossessing creatures, with yellow skin and black hair. some of the men, however, whom he traced to a fairy origin are by no means of this description. the term there for men of fairy descent is belsiaid, and they live mostly in the neighbouring parish of pennant, where it would never do for me to go and collect fairy tales, as i am told; and mr. llewelyn remembers the fighting that used to take place at the fairs at penmorfa if the term belsiaid once began to be heard. mr. llewelyn was also acquainted with the tale of the midwife that went to a fairy family, and how the thieving husband had deprived her of the use of one eye. he also spoke of the fairies changing children, and how one of these changelings, supposed to be a baby, expressed himself to the effect that he had seen the acorn before the oak, and the egg before the chick, but never anybody who brewed ale in an egg-shell: see p. above. as to modes of getting rid of the changelings, a friend of mr. llewelyn's mentioned the story that one was once dropped into the glaslyn river, near bedgelert. the sort of children the fairies liked were those that were unlike their own; that is, bairns whose hair was white, or inclined to yellow, and whose skin was fair. he had a great deal to say of a certain elis bach of nant gwrtheyrn, who used to be considered a changeling. with the exception of this changing of children the fairies seemed to have been on fairly good terms with the inhabitants, and to have been in the habit of borrowing from farm houses a padell and gradell for baking. the gradell is a sort of round flat iron, on which the dough is put, and the padell is the patella or pan put over it: they are still commonly used for baking in north wales. well, the fairies used to borrow these two articles, and by way of payment to leave money on the hob at night. all over lleyn the tylwyth are represented as borrowing padell a gradell. they seem to have never been very strong in household furniture, especially articles made of iron. mr. llewelyn had heard that the reason why people do not see fairies nowadays is that they have been exorcised (wedi eu hoffrymu) for hundreds of years to come. about the same time i was advised to try the memory of miss jane williams, who lives at the graig, tremadoc: she was then, as i was told, seventy-five, very quick-witted, but by no means communicative to idlers. the most important information she had for me was to the effect that the tylwyth teg had been exorcised away (wedi 'ffrymu) and would not be back in our day. when she was about twelve she served at the gelli between tremadoc and pont aberglaslyn. her master's name was siôn ifan, and his wife was a native of the neighbourhood of carnarvon; she had many tales to tell them about the tylwyth, how they changed children, how they allured men to the fairy rings, and how their dupes returned after a time in a wretched state, with hardly any flesh on their bones. she heard her relate the tale of a man who married a fairy, and how she left him; but before going away from her husband and children she asked the latter by name which they would like to have, a dirty cow-yard (buches fudur) or a clean cow-yard (buches lân). some gave the right answer, a dirty cow-yard, but some said a clean cow-yard: the lot of the latter was poverty, for they were to have no stock of cattle. the same question is asked in a story recorded by the late rev. elias owen, in his welsh folk-lore, p. [ ]: his instance belongs to the neighbourhood of pentrevoelas, in denbighshire. v. when i was staying at pwllheli the same summer, i went out to the neighbouring village of four crosses, and found a native of the place, who had heard a great many curious things from his mother. his name was lewis jones: he was at the time over eighty, and he had formerly been a saddler. among other things, his mother often told him that her grandmother had frequently been with the fairies, when the latter was a child. she lived at plâs du, and once she happened to be up near carn bentyrch when she saw them. she found them resembling little children, and playing in a brook that she had to cross. she was so delighted with them, and stayed so long with them, that a search was made for her, when she was found in the company of the fairies. another time, they met her as she was going on an errand across a large bog on a misty day, when there was a sort of a drizzle, which one might call either dew or rain, as it was not decidedly either, but something between the two, such as the welsh would call gwlithlaw, 'dew-rain.' she loitered in their company until a search was made for her again. lewis jones related to me the story of the midwife--he pronounced it in welsh 'midwaith'--who attended on a fairy. as in the other versions, she lost the sight of one eye in consequence of her discovering the gentleman fairy thieving; but the fair at which this happened was held in this instance at nefyn. he related also how a farmer at pennant had wedded a fairy called bella. this tale proceeded like the other versions, and did not even omit the fighting at penmorfa: see pp. , , . he had likewise the tale about the two youths who had gone out to fetch some cattle, and came, while returning about dusk, across a party of fairies dancing. the one was drawn into the circle, and the other was suspected at length of having murdered him, until, at the suggestion of a wizard, he went to the same place at the end of a year and a day: then he found him dancing, and managed to get him out. he had been reduced to a mere skeleton, but he inquired at once if the cattle he was driving were far ahead. jones had heard of a child changed by the fairies when its mother had placed it in some hay while she worked at the harvest. she discovered he was not her own by brewing in an egg-shell, as usual. then she refused to take any notice of him, and she soon found her own baby returned; but the latter looked much the worse for its sojourn in the land of the tylwyth teg. my informant described to me elis bach of nant gwrtheyrn, already mentioned, p. , who died somewhat more than forty years ago. his father was a farmer there, and his children, both boys and girls, were like ordinary folks, excepting elis, who was deformed, his legs being so short that his body seemed only a few inches from the ground when he walked. his voice was also small and squeaky. however, he was very sharp, and could find his way among the rocks pretty well when he went in quest of his father's sheep and goats, of which there used to be plenty there formerly. everybody believed elis to have been a changeling, and one saying of his is still remembered in that part of the country. when strangers visited nant gwrtheyrn, a thing which did not frequently happen, and when his parents asked them to their table, and pressed them to eat, he would squeak out drily, buta 'nynna buta'r cwbwl, that is to say, 'eating that means eating all we have.' he told me further that the servant girls used formerly to take care to bring a supply of water indoors at the approach of night, that the fairies might find plenty in which to bathe their children, for fear that they might use the milk instead, if water was wanting. moreover, when they had been baking, they took care to leave the fairies both padell and gradell, that they might do their baking in the night. the latter used to pay for this kindness by leaving behind them a cake of fairy bread and sometimes money on the hob. i have, however, not been able to learn anything about the quality or taste of this fairy food. he had also a great deal to say about the making of bonfires about the beginning of winter. a bonfire was always kindled on the farm called cromlech on the eve of the winter calends or nos galan gaeaf, as it is termed in welsh; and the like were to be seen in abundance towards llithfaen, carnguwch, and llanaelhaearn, as well as on the merioneth side of the bay. besides fuel, each person present used to throw into the fire a small stone, with a mark whereby he should know it again. if he succeeded in finding the stone on the morrow, the year would be a lucky one for him, but the contrary if he failed to recover it. those who assisted at the making of the bonfire watched until the flames were out, and then somebody would raise the usual cry, when each ran away for his life, lest he should be found last. this cry, which is a sort of equivalent, well known over carnarvonshire, of the english saying, 'the devil take the hindmost,' was in the welsh of that county-- yr hwch du gwta [ ] a gipio'r ola'; that is to say, 'may the black sow without a tail seize the hindmost.' the cutty black sow is often alluded to nowadays to frighten children in arfon, and it is clearly the same creature that is described in some parts of north wales as follows:-- hwch du gwta a cutty black sow ar bob camfa on every stile, yn nydu a chardio spinning and carding bob nos g'langaea'. every allhallows' eve. in cardiganshire this is reduced to the words:-- nos galan gaea', on allhallows' eve bwbach ar bob camfa. a bogie on every stile. welsh people speak of only three calends--calan-mai, or the first of may; calan-gaeaf, the calends of winter, or allhallows; and y calan, or the calends par excellence, that is to say, the first day of january, which last is probably not celtic but roman. the other two most certainly are, and it is one of their peculiarities that all uncanny spirits and bogies are at liberty the night preceding each of them. the hwch du gwta is at large on allhallows' eve, and the scottish gaels have the name 'samhanach' for any allhallows' demon, formed from the word samhain, allhallows. the eve of the first of may may be supposed to have been the same, as may be gathered from the story of rhiannon's baby and of teyrnon's colt, both of which were stolen by undescribed demons that night--i allude to the mabinogi of pwyll, prince of dyfed. vi. at nefyn, in lleyn [ ], i had some stories about the tylwyth teg from lowri hughes, the widow of john hughes, who lives in a cottage at pen isa'r dref, and is over seventy-four years of age. an aunt of hers, who knew a great many tales, had died about six years before my visit, at the advanced age of ninety-six. she used to relate to lowri how the tylwyth were in the habit of visiting singrug, a house now in ruins on the land of pen isa'r dref, and how they had a habit of borrowing a padell and gradell for baking: they paid for the loan of them by giving their owners a loaf. her grandmother, who died not long ago at a very advanced age, remembered a time when she was milking in a corner of the land of carn bodüan, and how a little dog came to her and received a blow from her that sent it rolling away. presently, she added, the dog reappeared with a lame man playing on a fiddle; but she gave them no milk. if she had done so, there was no knowing, she said, how much money she might have got. but, as it was, such singing and dancing were indulged in by the tylwyth around the lame fiddler that she ran away as fast as her feet could carry her. lowri's husband had also seen the tylwyth at the break of day, near madrun mill, where they seem to have been holding a sort of conversazione; but presently one of them observed that he had heard the voice of the hen's husband, and off they went instantly then. the fairies were in the habit also of dancing and singing on the headland across which lie the old earthworks called dinllaen. when they had played and enjoyed themselves enough, they used to lift a certain bit of sod and descend to their own land. my informant had also heard the midwife story, and she was aware that the fairies changed people's children; in fact, she mentioned to me a farm house not far off where there was a daughter of this origin then, not to mention that she knew all about elis bach. another woman whom i met near porth dinllaen said, that the dinllaen fairies were only seen when the weather was a little misty. at nefyn, mr. john williams (alaw lleyn) got from his mother the tale of the midwife. it stated that the latter lost the sight of her right eye at nefyn fair, owing to the fairy she there recognized, pricking her eye with a green rush. during my visit to aberdaron, my wife and i went to the top of mynyd anelog, and on the way up we passed a cottage, where a very illiterate woman told us that the tylwyth teg formerly frequented the mountain when there was mist on it; that they changed people's children if they were left alone on the ground; and that the way to get the right child back was to leave the fairy urchin without being touched or fed. she also said that, after baking, people left the gradell for the fairies to do their baking: they would then leave a cake behind them as pay. as for the fairies just now, they have been exorcised (wedi'ffrymu) for some length of time. mrs. williams, of pwll defaid, told me that the rock opposite, called clip y gylfinir, on bodwydog mountain, a part of mynyd y rhiw, was the resort of the tylwyth teg, and that they revelled there when it was covered with mist; she added that a neighbouring farm, called bodermud isa', was well known at one time as a place where the fairies came to do their baking. but the most remarkable tale i had in the neighbourhood of aberdaron was from evan williams, a smith who lives at yr ard las, on rhos hirwaen. if i remember rightly, he is a native of llaniestin, and what he told me relates to a farmer's wife who lived at the nant, in that parish. now this old lady was frequently visited by a fairy who used to borrow padell a gradell from her. these she used to get, and she returned them with a loaf borne on her head in acknowledgement. but one day she came to ask for the loan of her troell bach, or wheel for spinning flax. when handing her this, the farmer's wife wished to know her name, as she came so often, but she refused to tell her. however, she was watched at her spinning, and overheard singing to the whir of the wheel:-- bychan a wyda' hi little did she know mai sìli go dwt that silly go dwt yw f'enw i. is my name. this explains to some extent the sìli ffrit sung by a corwrion fairy when she came out of the lake to spin: see p. above. at first i had in vain tried to make out the meaning of that bit of legend; but since then i have also found the llaniestin rhyme a little varied at llanberis: it was picked up there, i do not exactly know how, by my little girls this summer. the words as they have them run thus:-- bychan a wyda' hi mai trwtyn-tratyn yw f'enw i. here, instead of sìli go dwt or sìli ffrit, the name is trwtyn-tratyn, and these doggerels at once remind one of the tale of rumpelstiltzchen; but it is clear that we have as yet only the merest fragments of the whole, though i have been thus far unable to get any more. so one cannot quite say how far it resembled the tale of rumpelstiltzchen: there is certainly one difference, which is at once patent, namely, that while the german rumpelstiltzchen was a male fairy, our welsh sìli ffrit or sìli go dwt is of the other sex. probably, in the llaniestin tale, the borrowing for baking had nothing to do with the spinning, for all fairies in lleyn borrow a padell and a gradell, while they do not usually appear to spin. then may we suppose that the spinning was in this instance done for the farmer's wife on conditions which she was able to evade by discovering the fairy helper's name? at any rate one expects a story representing the farmer's wife laid under obligation by the fairy, and not the reverse. i shall have an opportunity of returning to this kind of tale in chapter x. the smith told me another short tale, about a farmer who lived not long ago at deunant, close to aberdaron. the latter used, as is the wont of country people, to go out a few steps in front of his house every night to ---- before going to bed; but once on a time, while he was standing there, a stranger stood by him and spoke to him, saying that he had no idea how he and his family were annoyed by him. the farmer asked how that could be, to which the stranger replied that his house was just below where they stood, and if he would only stand on his foot he would see that what he said was true. the farmer complying, put his foot on the other's foot, and then he could clearly see that all the slops from his house went down the chimney of the other's house, which stood far below in a street he had never seen before. the fairy then advised him to have his door in the other side of his house, and that if he did so his cattle would never suffer from the clwy' byr [ ]. the result was that the farmer obeyed, and had his door walled up and another made in the other side of the house: ever after he was a most prosperous man, and nobody was so successful as he in rearing stock in all that part of the country. to place the whole thing beyond the possibility of doubt, evan williams assured me that he had often seen the farmer's house with the front door in the back. i mention this strange story in order to compare it, in the matter of standing on the fairy's foot, with that of standing with one's foot just inside a fairy ring. compare also standing on a particular sod in dyfed in order to behold the delectable realm of rhys dwfn's children: see p. above. vii. soon afterwards i went to the neighbourhood of aber soch and llanengan, where i was lucky enough to find professor owen of st. david's college, lampeter, since appointed bishop of st. david's, on a visit to his native place. he took me round to those of the inhabitants who were thought most likely to have tales to tell; but i found nothing about the fairies except the usual story of their borrowing padell a gradell, and of their changing children. however, one version i heard of the process of recovering the stolen child differs from all others known to me: it was given us by margaret edwards, of pentre bach, whose age was then eighty-seven. it was to the effect that the mother, who had been given a fairy infant, was to place it on the floor, and that all those present in the house should throw a piece of iron at it. this she thought was done with the view of convincing the tylwyth teg of the intention to kill the changeling, and in order to induce them to bring the right child back. the plan was, we are told, always successful, and it illustrates, to my thinking, the supposed efficacy of iron against the fairies. on the way to aber soch i passed by an old-fashioned house which has all the appearance of having once been a place of considerable importance; and on being told that its name is castellmarch, i began thinking of march ab meirchion mentioned in the triads. he, i had long been convinced, ought to be the welsh reflex of labhraidh lorc, or the irish king with horse's ears; and the corresponding greek character of midas with ass's ears is so well known that i need not dwell on it. so i undertook to question various people in the neighbourhood about the meaning of the name of castellmarch. most of them analysed it into castell y march, the 'castle of the steed,' and explained that the knight of the shire or some other respectable obscurity kept his horses there. this treatment of the word is not very decidedly countenanced by the pronunciation, which makes the name into one word strongly accented on the middle syllable. it was further related to me how castellmarch was once upon a time inhabited by a very wicked and cruel man, one of whose servants, after being very unkindly treated by him, ran away and went on board a man-of-war. some time afterwards the man-of-war happened to be in cardigan bay, and the runaway servant persuaded the captain of the vessel to come and anchor in the tudwal roads. furthermore he induced him to shell his old master's mansion; and the story is regarded as proved by the old bullets now and then found at castellmarch. it has since been suggested to me that the bullets are evidence of an attack on the place during the civil war, which is not improbable. but having got so far as to find that there was a wicked, cruel man associated with castellmarch, i thought i should at once hear the item of tradition which i was fishing for; but not so: it was not to be wormed out in a hurry. however, after tiring a very old blacksmith, whose memory was far gone, with my questions, and after he had in his turn tired me with answers of the kind i have already described, i ventured to put it to him at last whether he had never heard some very silly tale about the lord of castellmarch, to the effect that he was not quite like other men. he at once admitted that he had heard it said that he had horse's ears, but that he would never have thought of repeating such nonsense to me. this is not a bad instance of the difficulty which one has in eliciting this sort of tradition from the people. it is true that, as far as regards castellmarch, nothing, as it happens, would have been lost if i had failed at aber soch, for i got the same information later at sarn fyllteyrn; not to mention that after coming back to my books, and once more turning over the leaves of the brython, i was delighted to find the tale there. it occurs at p. of the volume for . it is given with several other interesting bits of antiquity, and at the end the editor has put 'edward llwyd, '; so i suppose the whole comes from letters emanating from the great lhwyd, for so, or rather lhuyd, he preferred to write his name. it is to the following effect:-- one of arthur's warriors, whose name was march (or parch) amheirchion [ ], was lord of castellmarch in lleyn. this man had horse's ears (resembling midas), and lest anybody should know it, he used to kill every man he sought to shave his beard, for fear lest he should not be able to keep the secret; and on the spot where he was wont to bury the bodies there grew reeds, one of which somebody cut to make a pipe. the pipe would give no other sound than 'march amheirchion has horse's ears.' when the warrior heard this, he would probably have killed the innocent man on that account, if he had not himself failed to make the pipe produce any other sound. but after hearing where the reed had grown, he made no further effort to conceal either the murders or his ears. this story of edward llwyd's clearly goes back to a time when some kind of a pipe was the favourite musical instrument in north wales, and not the harp. viii. some time ago i was favoured with a short but interesting tale by mr. evan lloyd jones, of dinorwig, near llanberis. mr. lloyd jones, i may here mention, published not long ago, in llais y wlad (bangor, north wales), and in the drych (utica, united states of north america), a series of articles entitled llen y werin yn sir gaernarfon, or the folklore of carnarvonshire. i happened to see it at a friend's house, and i found at once that the writer was passionately fond of antiquities, and in the habit of making use of the frequent opportunities he has in the dinorwig quarries for gathering information as to what used to be believed by the people of arfon and anglesey. the tale about to be given relates to a lake called marchlyn mawr, or the great horse-lake, for there are two lakes called marchlyn: they lie near one another, between the fronllwyd, in the parish of llandegai, and the elidyr, in the parishes of llandeiniolen and llanberis. mr. lloyd jones shall tell his tale in his own words:-- amgylchynir y marchlyn mawr gan greigiau erchyll yr olwg arnynt; a dywed tradodiad darfod i un o feibion y rhiwen [ ] unwaith tra yn cynorthwyo dafad oed wedi syrthio i'r creigiau i dod odiyno, darganfod ogof anferth: aeth i fewn idi a gwelod ei bod yn llawn o drysorau ac arfau gwerthfawr; ond gan ei bod yn dechreu tywyllu, a dringo i fynu yn orchwyl anhawd hyd yn nod yn ngoleu'r dyd, aeth adref y noswaith honno, a boreu drannoeth ar lasiad y dyd cychwynnod eilwaith i'r ogof, ac heb lawer o drafferth daeth o hyd idi: aeth i fewn, a dechreuod edrych o'i amgylch ar y trysorau oed yno:--ar ganol yr ogof yr oed bwrd enfawr o aur pur, ac ar y bwrd goron o aur a pherlau: deallod yn y fan mai coron a thrysorau arthur oedynt--nesaod at y bwrd, a phan oed yn estyn ei law i gymeryd gafael yn y goron dychrynwyd ef gan drwst erchyll, trwst megys mil o daranau yn ymrwygo uwch ei ben ac aeth yr holl le can dywylled a'r afagdu. ceisiod ymbalfalu odiyno gynted ag y gallai; pan lwydod i gyrraed i ganol y creigiau taflod ei olwg ar y llyn, yr hwn oed wedi ei gynhyrfu drwydo a'i donnau brigwynion yn cael eu lluchio trwy daned ysgythrog y creigiau hyd y man yr oed efe yn sefyll arno; ond tra yr oed yn parhau i syllu ar ganol y llyn gwelai gwrwgl a thair o'r benywod prydferthaf y disgynod llygad unrhyw dyn arnynt erioed yndo yn cael ei rwyfo yn brysur tuag at enau yr ogof. ond och! yr oed golwg ofnadwy yr hwn oed yn rhwyfo yn digon i beri iasau o fraw trwy y dyn cryfaf. gallod y llanc rywfod dianc adref ond ni fu iechyd yn ei gyfansodiad ar ol hynny, a bydai hyd yn nod crybwyll enw y marchlyn yn ei glywedigaeth yn digon i'w yrru yn wallgof. 'the marchlyn mawr is surrounded by rocks terrible to look at, and tradition relates how one of the sons of the farmer of rhiwen, once on a time, when helping a sheep that had fallen among the rocks to get away, discovered a tremendous cave there; he entered, and saw that it was full of treasures and arms of great value; but, as it was beginning to grow dark, and as clambering back was a difficult matter even in the light of day, he went home that evening, and next morning with the grey dawn he set out again for the cave, when he found it without much trouble. he entered, and began to look about him at the treasures that were there. in the centre of the cave stood a huge table of pure gold, and on the table lay a crown of gold and pearls. he understood at once that they were the crown and treasures of arthur. he approached the table, and as he stretched forth his hand to take hold of the crown he was frightened by an awful noise, the noise, as it were, of a thousand thunders bursting over his head, and the whole place became as dark as tartarus. he tried to grope and feel his way out as fast as he could. when he had succeeded in reaching to the middle of the rocks, he cast his eye on the lake, which had been stirred all through, while its white-crested waves dashed through the jagged teeth of the rocks up to the spot on which he stood. but as he continued looking at the middle of the lake he beheld a coracle containing three women, the fairest that the eye of man ever fell on. they were being quickly rowed to the mouth of the cave; but the dread aspect of him who rowed was enough to send thrills of horror through the strongest of men. the youth was able somehow to escape home, but no health remained in his constitution after that, and even the mere mention of the marchlyn in his hearing used to be enough to make him insane.' mr. lloyd jones appends to the tale a note to the following effect:--there is a small eminence on the shore of the marchlyn mawr, in the parish of llandegai, called bryn cwrwgl, or the 'hill of the coracle'; and ogof y marchlyn, or the 'marchlyn cave,' is a name familiar enough to everybody in these neighbourhoods. there were some--unless he ought to say that there still are some--who believed that there was abundance of treasure in the cave. several young men from the quarries, both of the cae and of dinorwig, have been in the midst of the marchlyn rocks, searching for the cave, and they succeeded in making their way into a cave. they came away, however, without the treasures. one old man, robert edwards (iorwerth sardis), used to tell him that he and several others had brought ropes from the quarry to go into the cave, but that they found no treasure. so far, i have given the substance of mr. jones' words, to which i would add the following statement, which i have from a native of dinorwig:--about seventy years ago, when the gentry were robbing the poor of these districts of their houses and of the lands which the latter had enclosed out of the commons, an old woman called siân william of the garned was obliged to flee from her house with her baby--the latter was known later in life as the rev. robert ellis, of ysgoldy--in her arms. it was in one of the marchlyn caves that she found refuge for a day and night. another kind of tale connected with the marchlyn mawr is recorded in the powys-land club's collections, hist. and arch., vol. xv. p. , by the rev. elias owen, to the effect that 'a man who was fishing in the lake found himself enveloped in the clouds that had descended from the hills to the water. a sudden gust of wind cleared a road through the mist that hung over the lake, and revealed to his sight a man busily engaged in thatching a stack. the man, or rather the fairy, stood on a ladder. the stack and ladder rested on the surface of the lake.' ix. mr. e. s. roberts, of llandysilio school, near llangollen (p. ), has sent me more bits of legends about the fairies. he heard the following from mr. thomas parry, of tan y coed farm, who had heard it from his father, the late evan parry, and the latter from thomas morris, of eglwyseg, who related it to him more than once:--thomas morris happened to be returning home from llangollen very late on one saturday night in the middle of the summer, and by the time he reached near home the day had dawned, when he saw a number of the tylwyth teg with a dog walking about hither and thither on the declivity of the eglwyseg rocks, which hung threateningly overhead. when he had looked at them for some minutes, he directed his steps towards them; but as they saw him approaching they hid themselves, as he thought, behind a large stone. on reaching the spot, he found under the stone a hole by which they had made their way into their subterranean home. so ends the tale as related to mr. roberts. it is remarkable as representing the fairies looking rather like poachers; but there are not wanting others which speak of their possessing horses and greyhounds, as all gentlemen were supposed to. one of mr. roberts' tales is in point: he had it from mr. hugh francis [ ], of holyhead house, ruthin, and the latter heard it from robert roberts, of amlwch, who has now been dead about thirty years:--about years ago there lived in the parish of llandyfrydog, near llannerch y med, in anglesey, a man named ifan gruffyd, whose cow happened to disappear one day. ifan gruffyd was greatly distressed, and he and his daughter walked up and down the whole neighbourhood in search of her. as they were coming back in the evening from their unsuccessful quest, they crossed the field called after the dyfrydog thief, cae lleidr dyfrydog, where they saw a great number of little men on ponies quickly galloping in a ring. they both drew nigh to look on; but ifan gruffyd's daughter, in her eagerness to behold the little knights more closely, got unawares within the circle in which their ponies galloped, and did not return to her father. the latter now forgot all about the loss of the cow, and spent some hours in searching for his daughter; but at last he had to go home without her, in the deepest sadness. a few days afterwards he went to mynadwyn to consult john roberts, who was a magician of no mean reputation. that 'wise man' told ifan gruffyd to be no longer sad, since he could get his daughter back at the very hour of the night of the anniversary of the time when he lost her. he would, in fact, then see her riding round in the company of the tylwyth teg whom he had seen on that memorable night. the father was to go there accompanied by four stalwart men, who were to aid him in the rescue of his daughter. he was to tie a strong rope round his waist, and by means of this his friends were to pull him out of the circle when he entered to seize his daughter. he went to the spot, and in due time he beheld his daughter riding round in great state. in he rushed and snatched her, and, thanks to his friends, he got her out of the fairy ring before the little men had time to think of it. the first thing ifan's daughter asked him was, if he had found the cow, for she had not the slightest reckoning of the time she had spent with the fairies. whilst i am about it, i may as well go through mr. roberts' contributions. the next is also a tale related to him by mr. hugh francis, and, like the last, it comes from anglesey. mr. francis' great-grandfather was called robert francis, and he had a mill at aberffraw about years ago; and the substance of the following tale was often repeated in the hearing of mr. roberts' informant by his father and his grandfather:--in winter robert francis used to remain very late at work drying corn in his kiln. as it was needful to keep a steady fire going, he used to go backwards and forwards from the house, looking after it not unfrequently until it was two o'clock in the morning. once on a time he happened to leave a cauldron full of water on the floor of the kiln, and great was his astonishment on returning to find two little people washing themselves in the water. he abstained from entering to disturb them, and went back to the house to tell his wife of it. 'oh,' said she, 'they are fairies.' he presently went back to the kiln and found that they were gone. he fancied they were man and wife. however, they had left the place very clean, and to crown all, he found a sum of money left by them to pay him, as he supposed, for the water and the use of the kiln. the ensuing night many more fairies came to the kiln, for the visitors of the previous night had brought their children with them; and the miller found them busy bathing them and looking very comfortable in the warm room where they were. the pay that night was also more considerable than the night before, as the visitors were more numerous. after this the miller never failed to leave a vessel full of water in the kiln every night, and the fairies availed themselves of it for years, until, in fact, they took offence at the miller telling the neighbours of the presents of money which had been left him in the kiln. thenceforth no fairies were known to frequent the kiln belonging to the aberffraw mill. the last tale communicated to me by mr. roberts is the following, which he elicited from margaret davies, his housekeeper, by reading to her some of the fairy legends published in the cymmrodor a short while ago--probably the corwrion series, one of which bears great resemblance to hers. mrs. davies, who is sixty-one years of age, says that when her parents, edward and ann williams, lived at rhoslydan, near bryneglwys, in yale, some seventy-five years ago, the servant man happened one day in the spring to be ploughing in a field near the house. as he was turning his team back at one end of the field, he heard some one calling out from the other end, y mae eisieu hoelen yn y pìl, or 'the peel wants a nail'; for pìl is the english peel, a name given to a sort of shovel provided with a long handle for placing loaves in an oven, and for getting them out again. when at length the ploughman had reached the end of the field whence he guessed the call to have proceeded, he there saw a small peel, together with a hammer and a nail, under the hedge. he saw that the peel required a nail to keep it together, and as everything necessary for mending it were there ready to hand, he did as it had been suggested. then he followed at the plough-tail until he came round again to the same place, and there he this time saw a cake placed for him on the spot where he had previously found the peel and the other things, which had now disappeared. when the servant related this to his master, he told him at once that it was one of the tylwyth teg of that locality that had called out to him. with this should be compared the story of the man who mended a fairy's plough vice: see p. above. x. early this year i had occasion to visit the well-known hengwrt library at peniarth, and during my stay there mr. wynne very kindly took me to see such of the llanegryn people as were most likely to have somewhat to say about the fairies. many of the inhabitants had heard of them, but they had no long tales about them. one man, however, told me of a william pritchard, of pentre bach, near llwyngwryl, who died at sixty, over eighty years ago, and of a rhys williams, the clerk of llangelynin, how they were going home late at night from a cock-fight at llanegryn, and how they came across the fairies singing and dancing on a plot of ground known as gwastad meirionyd, 'the plain of merioneth,' on the way from llwyngwryl to llanegryn. it consists, i am told by mr. robert roberts of llanegryn, of no more than some twenty square yards, outside which one has a good view of cardigan bay and the heights of merioneth and carnarvonshire, while from the gwastad itself neither sea nor mountain is visible. on this spot, then, the belated cockfighters were surrounded by the fairies. they swore at the fairies and took to their heels, but they were pursued as far as clawd du. also i was told that elen egryn, the authoress, some sixty years ago, of some poetry called telyn egryn, had also seen fairies in her youth, when she used to go up the hills to look after her father's sheep. this happened near a little brook, from which she could see the sea when the sun was in the act of sinking in it; then many fairies would come out dancing and singing, and also crossing and re-crossing the little brook. it was on the side of rhiwfelen, and she thought the little folks came out of the brook somewhere. she had been scolded for talking about the fairies, but she firmly believed in them to the end of her life. this was told me by mr. w. williams, the tailor, who is about sixty years of age; and also by mr. rowlands, the ex-bailiff of peniarth, who is about seventy-five. i was moreover much interested to discover at llanegryn a scrap of kelpie story, which runs as follows, concerning llyn gwernen, situated close to the old road between dolgelley and llanegryn:-- as a man from the village of llanegryn was returning in the dusk of the evening across the mountain from dolgelley, he heard, when hard by llyn gwernen, a voice crying out from the water:-- daeth yr awr ond ni daeth y dyn! the hour is come but the man is not! as the villager went on his way a little distance, what should meet him but a man of insane appearance, and with nothing on but his shirt. as he saw the man making full pelt for the waters of the lake, he rushed at him to prevent him from proceeding any further. but as to the sequel there is some doubt: one version makes the villager conduct the man back about a mile from the lake to a farm house called dyffrydan, which was on the former's way home. others seem to think that the man in his shirt rushed irresistibly into the lake, and this i have no doubt comes nearer the end of the story in its original form. lately i have heard a part of a similar story about llyn cynnwch, which has already been mentioned, p. , above. my informant is miss lucy griffith, of glynmalden, near dolgelley, a lady deeply interested in welsh folklore and welsh antiquities generally. she obtained her information from a dolgelley ostler, formerly engaged at the ship hotel, to the effect that on gwyl galan, 'the eve of new year's day,' a person is seen walking backwards and forwards on the strand of cynnwch lake, crying out:-- mae'r awr wedi dyfod a'r dyn heb dyfod! the hour is come while the man is not! the ostler stated also that lights are to be seen on cader idris on the eve of new year's day, whatever that statement may mean. the two lake stories seem to suggest that the lake spirit was entitled to a victim once a year, whether the sacrifice was regarded as the result of accident or design. by way of comparison, one may mention the notion, not yet extinct, that certain rivers in various parts of the kingdom regularly claim so many victims: for some instances at random see an article by mr. j. m. mackinlay, on traces of river worship in scottish folklore, a paper published in the proceedings of the society of antiquaries of scotland, - , pp. - . take for example the following rhyme:-- blood-thirsty dee each year needs three; but bonny don she needs none. or this:-- tweed said to till 'what gars ye rin sae still?' till said to tweed 'though ye rin wi' speed an' i rin slaw, yet whar ye droon ae man i droon twa.' xi. in the neighbourhood of ystrad meurig, between the teifi and the ystwyth basins, almost everybody can relate tales about the fairies, but not much that is out of the ordinary run of such stories elsewhere. among others, isaac davies, the smith living at ystrad meurig, had heard a great deal about fairies, and he said that there were rings belonging to them in certain fields at tan y graig and at llanafan. where the rings were, there the fairies danced until the ground became red and bare of grass. the fairies were, according to him, all women, and they dressed like foreigners, in short cotton dresses reaching only to the knee-joint. this description is somewhat peculiar, as the idea prevalent in the country around is, that the fairy ladies had very long trains, and that they were very elegantly dressed; so that it is a common saying there, that girls who dress in a better or more showy fashion than ordinary look like tylwyth teg, and the smith confessed he had often heard that said. similarly howells, pp. , - , finds the dresses of the fairies dancing on the freni, in the north-east of pembrokeshire, represented as indescribably elegant and varying in colour; and those who, in the month of may, used to frequent the prehistoric encampment of moedin [ ] or moydin--from which a whole cantred takes its name in central cardiganshire--as fond of appearing in green; while blue petticoats are said, he says, to have prevailed in the fairy dances in north wales [ ]. another showed me a spot on the other side of the teifi, where the tylwyth teg had a favourite spot for dancing; and at the neighbouring village of swyd ffynnon, another meadow was pointed out as their resort on the farm of dôl bydyë. according to one account i had there, the fairies dressed themselves in very long clothes, and when they danced they took hold of one another's enormous trains. besides the usual tales concerning men enticed into the ring and retained in faery for a year and a day, and concerning the fairies' dread of pren cerdingen or mountain ash, i had the midwife tale in two or three forms, differing more or less from the versions current in north wales. for the most complete of them i am indebted to one of the young men studying at the grammar school, mr. d. lledrodian davies. it used to be related by an old woman who died some thirty years ago at the advanced age of about . she was pàli, mother of old rachel evans, who died seven or eight years ago, when she was about eighty. the latter was a curious character, who sometimes sang maswed, or rhymes of doubtful propriety, and used to take the children of the village to see fairy rings. she also used to see the tylwyth, and had many tales to tell of them. but her mother, pàli, had actually been called to attend at the confinement of one of them. the beginning of the tale is not very explicit; but, anyhow, pàli one evening found herself face to face with the fairy lady she was to attend upon. she appeared to be the wife of one of the princes of the country. she was held in great esteem, and lived in a very grand palace. everything there had been arranged in the most beautiful and charming fashion. the wife was in her bed with nothing about her but white, and she fared sumptuously. in due time, when the baby had been born, the midwife had all the care connected with dressing it and serving its mother. pàli could see or hear nobody in the whole place but the mother and the baby. she had no idea who attended on them, or who prepared all the things they required, for it was all done noiselessly and secretly. the mother was a charming person, of an excellent temper and easy to manage. morning and evening, as she finished washing the baby, pàli had a certain ointment given her to rub the baby with. she was charged not to touch it but with her hand, and especially not to put any near her eyes. this was carried out for some time, but one day, as she was dressing the baby, her eyes happened to itch, and she rubbed them with her hand. then at once she saw a great many wonders she had not before perceived; and the whole place assumed a new aspect to her. she said nothing, and in the course of the day she saw a great deal more. among other things, she observed small men and small women going in and out, following a variety of occupations. but their movements were as light as the morning breeze. to move about was no trouble to them, and they brought things into the room with the greatest quickness. they prepared dainty food for the confined lady with the utmost order and skill, and the air of kindness and affection with which they served her was truly remarkable. in the evening, as she was dressing the baby, the midwife said to the lady, 'you have had a great many visitors to-day.' to this she replied, 'how do you know that? have you been putting the ointment to your eyes?' thereupon she jumped out of bed, and blew into her eyes, saying, 'now you will see no more.' she never afterwards could see the fairies, however much she tried, nor was the ointment entrusted to her after that day. according, however, to another version which i heard, she was told, on being found out, not to apply the ointment to her eyes any more. she promised she would not; but the narrator thought she broke that promise, as she continued to see the fairies as long as she lived. mr. d. ll. davies has also a version like the north wales ones. he obtained it from a woman of seventy-eight at bronnant, near aberystwyth, who had heard it from one of her ancestors. according to her, the midwife went to the fair called ffair rhos, which was held between ystrad meurig and pont rhyd fendigaid [ ]. there she saw a great many of the tylwyth very busily engaged, and among others the lady she had been attending upon. that being so, she walked up to her and saluted her. the fairy lady angrily asked how she saw her, and spat in her face, which had the result of putting an end for ever to her power of seeing her or anybody of her race. the same aged woman at bronnant has communicated to mr. d. ll. davies another tale which differs from all those of the same kind that i happen to know of. on a certain day in spring the farmer living at ---- (mr. davies does not remember the name of the farm) lost his calves; and the servant man and the servant girl went out to look for them, but as they were both crossing a marshy flat, the man suddenly missed the girl. he looked for her, and as he could not see her he concluded that she was playing a trick on him. however, after much shouting and searching about the place, he began to think that she must have found her way home, so he turned back and asked if the girl had come in, when he found to his surprise that nobody had seen her come back. the news of her being lost caused great excitement in the country around, since many suspected that he had for some reason put an end to her life: some accounted for it in this way, and some in another. but as nothing could be found out about her, the servant man was taken into custody on the charge of having murdered her. he protested with all his heart, and no evidence could be produced that he had killed the girl. now, as some had an idea that she had gone to the fairies, it was resolved to send to 'the wise man' (y dyn hysbys). this was done, and he found out that the missing girl was with the fairies: the trial was delayed, and he gave the servant man directions of the usual kind as to how to get her out. she was watched at the end of the period of twelve months and a day coming round in the dance in the fairy ring at the place where she was lost, and she was successfully drawn out of the ring; but the servant man had to be there in the same clothes as he had on when she left him. as soon as she was released and saw the servant she asked about the calves. on the way home she told her master, the servant man, and the others, that she would stay with them until her master should strike her with iron, but they went their way home in great joy at having found her. one day, however, when her master was about to start from home, and whilst he was getting the horse and cart ready, he asked the girl to assist him, which she did willingly; but as he was bridling the horse, the bit touched the girl and she disappeared instantly, and was never seen from that day forth. i cannot explain this story, unless we regard it as made up of pieces of two different stories which had originally nothing to do with one another; consistency, however, is not to be expected in such matters. mr. d. ll. davies has kindly given me two more tales like the first part of the one i have last summarized, also one in which the missing person, a little boy sent by his mother to fetch some barm for her, comes home of himself after being away a year or more playing with the tylwyth teg, whom he found to be very nice, pleasant people; they had been exceedingly kind to him, and they even allowed him to take the bottle with the barm home at the last. this was somewhere between swyd ffynnon and carmarthen. mr. d. ll. davies finds, what i have not found anywhere else, that it was a common idea among the old people in cardiganshire, that once you came across one of the fairies you could not easily be rid of him; since the fairies were little beings of a very devoted nature. once a man had become friendly with one of them, the latter would be present with him almost everywhere he went, until it became a burden to him. however, popular belief did not adopt this item of faith without another to neutralize it if necessary: so if one was determined to get rid of the fairy companion, one had in the last resort only to throw a piece of rusty iron at him to be quit of him for ever. nothing was a greater insult to the fairies. but though they were not difficult to make friends of, they never forgave those who offended them: forgiveness was not an element in their nature. the general account my informant gives of the outward appearance of the fairies as he finds them in the popular belief, is that they were a small handsome race, and that their women dressed gorgeously in white, while the men were content with garments of a dark grey colour, usually including knee-breeches. as might be expected, the descriptions differ very much in different neighbourhoods, and even in different tales from the same neighbourhood: this will surprise no one. it was in the night they came out, generally near water, to sing and dance, and also to steal whatever took their fancy; for thieving was always natural to them; but no one ever complained of it, as it was supposed to bring good luck. xii. mr. richard l. davies, teacher of the board school at ystalyfera, in the tawë valley, has been kind enough to write out for me a budget of ideas about the cwm tawë fairies, as retailed to him by a native who took great delight in the traditions of his neighbourhood, john davies (shôn o'r bont), who was a storekeeper at ystalyfera. he died an old man about three years ago. i give his stories as transmitted to me by mr. davies, but the reader will find them a little hazy now and then, as when the fairies are made into ordinary conjurer's devils:-- rhywbeth rhyfed yw yr hen gastell yna (gan olygu craig ynys geinon): yr wyf yn cofio yr amser pan y bydai yn dychryn gan bobl fyned yn agos ato--yn enwedig y nos: yr oed yn dra pheryglus rhag i dyn gael ei gymeryd at bendith eu mamau. fe dywedir fod wmred o'r rheiny yna, er na wn i pa le y maent yn cadw. 'r oed yr hen bobl yn arferol o dweyd fod pwll yn rhywle bron canol y castell, tua llathen o led, ac yn bump neu chwech llath o dyfnder, a charreg tua thair tynnell o bwysau ar ei wyneb e', a bod fford dan y daear gandynt o'r pwll hynny bob cam i ogof tan yr ogof, bron blaen y cwm (yn agos i balas adelina patti, sef castell craig y nos), mai yno y maent yn treulio eu hamser yn y dyd, ac yn dyfod lawr yma i chwareu eu pranciau yn y nos. mae gandynt, mede nhw, ysgol aur, o un neu dwy ar hugain o ffyn; ar hyd honno y maent yn tramwy i fyny ac i lawr. mae gandynt air bach, a dim ond i'r blaenaf ar yr ysgol dywedyd y gair hynny, mae y garreg yn codi o honi ei hunan; a gair arall, ond i'r olaf wrth fyned i lawr ei dywedyd, mae yn cauad ar eu hol. dywedir i was un o'r ffermyd cyfagos wrth chwilio am wningod yn y graig, dygwyd dyweyd y gair pan ar bwys y garreg, idi agor, ac ido yntau fyned i lawr yr ysgol, ond am na wydai y gair i gauad ar ei ol, fe adnabu y tylwyth wrth y draught yn diffod y canwyllau fod rhywbeth o le, daethant am ei draws, cymerasant ef atynt, a bu gyda hwynt yn byw ac yn bod am saith mlyned; ymhen y saith mlyned fe diangod a llon'd ei het o guineas gando. yr oed efe erbyn hyn wedi dysgu y dau air, ac yn gwybod llawer am eu cwtches nhw. fe dywedod hwn y cwbl wrth ffarmwr o'r gymdogaeth, fe aeth hwnnw drachefn i lawr, ac yr oed rhai yn dyweyd ido dyfod a thri llon'd cawnen halen o guineas, hanner guineas, a darnau saith-a-chwech, odiyno yr un diwrnod. ond fe aeth yn rhy drachwantus, ac fel llawer un trachwantus o'i flaen, bu ei bechod yn angeu ido. canys fe aeth i lawr y bedwared waith yngwyll y nos, ond fe daeth y tylwyth am ei ben, ac ni welwyd byth o hono. dywedir fod ei bedwar cwarter e' yn hongian mewn ystafell o dan y castell, ond pwy fu yno i'w gwel'd nhw, wn i dim. mae yn wir ei wala i'r ffarmwr crybwylledig fyned ar goll, ac na chlybuwyd byth am dano, ac mor wir a hynny i'w dylwyth dyfod yn abl iawn, bron ar unwaith yr amser hynny. a chi wydoch gystal a finnau, eu bod nhw yn dywedyd fod ffyrd tandaearol gandynt i ogofau ystrad fellte, yn agos i benderyn. a dyna y garn goch ar y drum (onllwyn yn awr) maent yn dweyd fod canoed o dynelli o aur yn stôr gandynt yno; a chi glywsoch am y stori am un o'r gethings yn myned yno i glodio yn y garn, ac ido gael ei drawsffurfio gan y tylwyth i olwyn o dân, ac ido fethu cael llonyd gandynt, hyd nes ido eu danfon i wneyd rhaff o sand! fe fu gynt hen fenyw yn byw mewn ty bychan gerllaw i ynys geinon, ac yr oed hi yn gallu rheibo, mede nhw, ac yr oed sôn ei bod yn treulio saith diwrnod, saith awr, a saith mynyd gyda y tylwyth teg bob blwydyn yn ogof y castell. yr oed y gred yn lled gyffredinol ei bod hi yn cael hyn a hyn o aur am bob plentyn a allai hi ladrata idynt hwy, a dodi un o'i hen grithod hwy yn ei le: 'doed hwnnw byth yn cynydu. y fford y bydai hi yn gwneyd oed myned i'r ty dan yr esgus o ofyn cardod, a hen glogyn llwyd-du mawr ar ei chefn, ac o dan hwn, un o blant bendith y mamau; a bob amser os bydai plentyn bach gwraig y ty yn y cawell, hi gymerai y swyd o siglo y cawell, a dim ond i'r fam droi ei chefn am fynyd neu dwy, hi daflai y lledrith i'r cawell, ai ymaith a'r plentyn yn gyntaf byth y gallai hi. fe fu plentyn gan dyn o'r gym'dogaeth yn lingran am flynydau heb gynydu dim, a barn pawb oed mai wedi cael ei newid gan yr hen wraig yr oed; fe aeth tad y plentyn i fygwth y gwr hysbys arni: fe daeth yr hen wraig yno am saith niwrnod i esgus bado y bachgen bach mewn dwfr oer, a'r seithfed bore cyn ei bod yn oleu, hi a gas genad i fyned ag ef dan rhyw bistyll, mede hi, ond medai'r cym'dogion, myned ag ef i newid a wnaeth. ond, beth bynag, fe wellod y plentyn fel cyw yr wyd o hynny i maes. ond gorfu i fam e' wneyd cystal a llw wrth yr hen wraig, y gwnai ei dwco mewn dwfr oer bob bore dros gwarter blwydyn, ac yn mhen y chwarter hynny 'doed dim brafach plentyn yn y cwm. 'that is a wonderful thing, that old castle there, he would say, pointing to the ynys geinon rock. i remember a time when people would be terrified to go near it, especially at night. there was considerable danger that one might be taken to bendith eu mamau. it is said that there are a great many of them there, though i know not where they abide. the old folks used to say that there was a pit somewhere about the middle of the castle, about a yard wide and some five or six yards deep, with a stone about three tons in weight over the mouth of it, and that they had a passage underground from that pit all the way to the cave of tan yr ogof, near the top of the cwm, that is, near adelina patti's residence at craig y nos castle: there, it was said, they spent their time during the day, while they came down here to play their tricks at night. they have, they say, a gold ladder of one or two and twenty rungs, and it is along that they pass up and down. they have a little word; and it suffices if the foremost on the ladder merely utters that word, for the stone to rise of itself; while there is another word, which it suffices the hindmost in going down to utter so that the stone shuts behind him. it is said that a servant from one of the neighbouring farms, when looking for rabbits in the rock, happened to say the word as he stood near the stone, that it opened for him, and that he went down the ladder; but that because he was ignorant of the word to make it shut behind him, the fairies discovered by the draught putting out their candles that there was something wrong. so they found him out and took him with them. he remained living with them for seven years, but at the end of the seven years he escaped with his hat full of guineas. he had by this time learnt the two words, and got to know a good deal about the hiding places of their treasures. he told everything to a farmer in the neighbourhood, so the latter likewise went down, and some used to say that he brought thence thrice the fill of a salt-chest of guineas, half-guineas, and seven-and-sixpenny pieces in one day. but he got too greedy, and like many a greedy one before him his crime proved his death; for he went down the fourth time in the dusk of the evening, when the fairies came upon him, and he was never seen any more. it is said that his four quarters hang in a room under the castle; but who has been there to see them i know not. it is true enough that the above-mentioned farmer got lost, and that nothing was heard respecting him; and it is equally true that his family became very well to do almost at once at that time. you know as well as i do that they say, that the fairies have underground passages to the caves of ystradfellte, near penderyn. there is the garn goch also on the drum (now called onllwyn); they say there are hundreds of tons of gold accumulated by them there, and you have heard the story about one of the gethings going thither to dig in the garn, and how he [sic] was transformed by the fairies into a wheel of fire, and that he could get no quiet from them until he sent them to manufacture a rope of sand!'--a more intelligible version of this story has been given at pp. - above. 'there was formerly an old woman living in a small house near ynys geinon; and she had the power of bewitching, people used to say: there was a rumour that she spent seven days, seven hours, and seven minutes with the fairies every year in the cave at the castle. it was a pretty general belief that she got such and such a quantity of gold for every child she could steal for them, and that she put one of those old urchins of theirs in its place: the latter never grew at all. the way she used to do it was to enter people's houses with the excuse of asking for alms, having a large dark-grey old cloak on her back, and the cloak concealed one of the children of bendith eu mamau. whenever she found the little child of the good woman of the house in its cradle, she would take upon herself to rock the cradle, so that if the mother only turned her back for a minute or two, she would throw the sham child into the cradle and hurry away as fast as she could with the baby. a man in the neighbourhood had a child lingering for years without growing at all, and it was the opinion of all that it had been changed by the old woman. the father at length threatened to call in the aid of "the wise man," when the old woman came there for seven days, pretending that it was in order to bathe the little boy in cold water; and on the seventh day she got permission to take him, before it was light, under a certain spout of water: so she said, but the neighbours said it was to change him. however that was, the boy from that time forth got on as fast as a gosling. but the mother had all but to take an oath to the old woman, that she would duck him in cold water every morning for three months, and by the end of that time there was no finer infant in the cwm.' mr. davies has given me some account also of the annual pilgrimage to the fan mountains to see the lake lady: these are his words on the subject--they recall pp. - above:-- 'it has been the yearly custom (for generations, as far as i can find) for young as well as many people further advanced in years to make a general excursion in carts, gambos, and all kinds of vehicles, to llyn y fan, in order to see the water nymph (who appeared on one day only, viz. the first sunday in august). this nymph was said to have the lower part of her body resembling that of a dolphin, while the upper part was that of a beautiful lady: this anomalous form appeared on the first sunday in august (if the lake should be without a ripple) and combed her tresses on the reflecting surface of the lake. the yearly peregrination to the abode of the fan deity is still kept up in this valley--cwmtawë; but not to the extent that it used to formerly.' xiii. mr. craigfryn hughes has sent me another tale about the fairies: it has to do with the parish of llanfabon, near the eastern border of glamorganshire. many traditions cluster round the church of llanfabon, beginning with its supposed building by saint mabon, but which of the mabons of welsh legend he was, is not very certain. not very far is a place called pant y dawns, or the dance hollow, in allusion to the visits paid to the spot by bendith y mamau, as the fairies are there called. in the same neighbourhood stand also the ruins of castell y nos, or the castle of the night [ ], which tradition represents as uninhabitable because it had been built of stones from llanfabon church, and on account of the ghosts that used to haunt it. however, one small portion of it was usually tenanted formerly by a 'wise man' or by a witch. in fact, the whole country round llanfabon church teemed with fairies, ghosts, and all kinds of uncanny creatures:-- mewn amaethdy ag syd yn aros yn y plwyf a elwir y berth gron, trigiannai gwedw ieuanc a'i phlentyn bychan. yr oed wedi colli ei gwr, a'i hunig gysur yn ei hamdifadrwyd a'i hunigrwyd oed gruff, ei mab. yr oed ef yr amser hwn odeutu tair blwyd oed, ac yn blentyn braf ar ei oedran. yr oed y plwyf, ar y pryd, yn orlawn o 'fendith y mamau'; ac, ar amser llawn lloer, bydent yn cadw dynion yn effro a'u cerdoriaeth hyd doriad gwawr. rhai hynod ar gyfrif eu hagrwch oed 'bendith' llanfabon, ac yr un mor hynod ar gyfrif eu castiau. lladrata plant o'r cawellau yn absenoldeb eu mamau, a denu dynion trwy eu swyno a cherdoriaeth i ryw gors afiach a diffaith, a ymdangosai yn gryn difyrrwch idynt. nid rhyfed fod y mamau beunyd ar eu gwyliadwriaeth rhag ofn colli eu plant. yr oed y wedw o dan sylw yn hynod ofalus am ei mab, gymaint nes tynnu rhai o'r cymydogion i dywedyd wrthi ei bod yn rhy orofalus, ac y bydai i ryw anlwc ordiwes ei mab. ond ni thalai unrhyw sylw i'w dywediadau. ymdangosai fod ei holl hyfrydwch a'i chysur ynghyd a'i gobeithion yn cydgyfarfod yn ei mab. mod bynnag, un diwrnod, clywod ryw lais cwynfannus yn codi o gymydogaeth y beudy; a rhag bod rhywbeth wedi digwyd i un o'r gwartheg rhedod yn orwyllt tuag yno, gan adael y drws heb ei gau, a'i mab bychan yn y ty. ond pwy a fedr desgrifio ei gofid ar ei gwaith yn dyfod i'r ty wrth weled eisiau ei mab? chwiliod bob man am dano, ond yn aflwydiannus. odeutu machlud haul, wele lencyn bychan yn gwneuthur ei ymdangosiad o'i blaen, ac yn dywedyd, yn groyw, 'mam!' edrychod y fam yn fanwl arno, a dywedod o'r diwed, 'nid fy mhlentyn i wyt ti!' 'ië, yn sicr,' atebai y bychan. nid ymdangosai y fam yn fodlon, na'i bod yn credu mai ei phlentyn hi ydoed. yr oed rhywbeth yn sisial yn barhaus wrthi mai nid ei mab hi ydoed. ond beth bynnag, bu gyda hi am flwydyn gyfan, ac nid ymdangosai ei fod yn cynydu dim, tra yr oed gruff, ei mab hi, yn blentyn cynydfawr iawn. yr oed gwr bychan yn myned yn fwy hagr bob dyd hefyd. o'r diwed penderfynod fyned at y 'dyn hysbys,' er cael rhyw wybodaeth a goleuni ar y mater. yr oed yn digwyd bod ar y pryd yn trigfannu yn nghastell y nos, wr ag oed yn hynod ar gyfrif ei ymwybydiaeth drwyadl o 'gyfrinion y fall.' ar ol idi osod ei hachos ger ei fron, ac yntau ei holi, sylwod, 'crimbil ydyw, ac y mae dy blentyn di gyd a'r hen fendith yn rhywle; ond i ti dilyn fy nghyfarwydiadau i yn ffydlon a manwl, fe adferir dy blentyn i ti yn fuan. yn awr, odeutu canol dyd y foru, tor wy yn y canol, a thafl un hanner ymaith odiwrthyt, a chadw y llall yn dy law, a dechreu gymysg ei gynwysiad yn ol a blaen. cofia fod y gwr bychan gerllaw yn gwneuthur sylw o'r hyn ag a fydi yn ei wneuthur. ond cofia di a pheidio galw ei sylw--rhaid ennill ei sylw at y weithred heb ei alw: ac odid fawr na ofynna i ti beth fydi yn ei wneuthur. a dywed wrtho mai cymysg pastai'r fedel yr wyt. a rho wybod i mi beth fyd ei ateb.' dychwelod y wraig, a thrannoeth dilynod gyfarwydyd y 'dyn cynnil' i'r llythyren. yr oed y gwr bychan yn sefyll yn ei hymyl, ac yn sylwi arni yn fanwl. ym mhen ychydig, gofynnod, 'mam, beth 'i ch'i 'neuthur?' 'cymysg pastai'r fedel, machgen i.' 'o felly. mi glywais gan fy nhad, fe glywod hwnnw gan ei dad, a hwnnw gan ei dad yntau, fod mesen cyn derwen, a derwen mewn dâr [ ]; ond ni chlywais i na gweled neb yn un man yn cymysg pastai'r fedel mewn masgal wy iar.' sylwod y wraig ei fod yn edrych yn hynod o sarug arni pan yn siarad, ac yr oed hynny yn ychwanegu at ei hagrwch, nes ei wneuthur yn wrthun i'r pen. y prydnawn hwnnw aeth y wraig at y 'dyn cynnil' er ei hysbysu o'r hyn a lefarwyd gan y còr. 'o,' ebai hwnnw, 'un o'r hen frid ydyw!' 'yn awr, byd y llawn lloer nesaf ym mhen pedwar diwrnod; mae yn rhaid i ti fyned i ben y pedair heol syd yn cydgyfarfod wrth ben rhyd y gloch; am deudeg o'r gloch y nos y byd y lleuad yn llawn. cofia gudio dy hun mewn man ag y cei lawn olwg ar bennau y croesffyrd, ac os gweli rywbeth a bair i ti gynhyrfu, cofia fod yn llonyd, ac ymatal rhag rhodi ffrwyn i'th deimladau, neu fe distrywir y cynllun, ac ni chei dy fab yn ol byth.' nis gwydai y fam anffodus beth oed i'w deall wrth ystori ryfed y 'dyn cynnil.' yr oed mewn cymaint o dywyllwch ag erioed. o'r diwed daeth yr amser i ben; ac ar yr awr apwyntiedig yr oed yn ymgudio yn ofalus tu cefn i lwyn mawr yn ymyl, o ba le y caffai olwg ar bob peth o gylch. bu am hir amser yno yn gwylio heb dim i'w glywed na'i weled--dim ond distawrwyd dwfn a phrudglwyfus yr hanner nos yn teyrnasu. o'r diwed clywai sain cerdoriaeth yn dynesu ati o hirbell. nês, nês yr oed y sain felusber yn dyfod o hyd; a gwrandawai hithai gyda dydordeb arni. cyn hir yr oed yn ei hymyl, a deallod mai gorymdaith o 'fendith y mamau' oedynt yn myned i rywle. yr oedynt yn gannoed mewn rhif. tua chanol yr orymdaith canfydod olygfa ag a drywanod ei chalon, ac a berod i'w gwaed sefyll yn ei rhedwelïau. yn cerded rhwng pedwar o'r 'bendith' yr oed ei phlentyn bychan anwyl ei hun. bu bron a llwyr anghofio ei hun, a llamu tuag ato er ei gipio ymaith odiarnynt trwy drais os gallai. ond pan ar neidio allan o'i hymgudfan i'r diben hwnnw medyliod am gynghor y 'dyn cynnil,' sef y bydai i unrhyw gynhyrfiad o'i heido distrywio y cwbl, ac na bydai idi gael ei phlentyn yn ol byth. ar ol i'r orymdaith dirwyn i'r pen, ac i sain eu cerdoriaeth distewi yn y pellder, daeth allan o'i hymgudfan, gan gyfeirio ei chamrau tua 'i chartref. os oed yn hiraethol o'r blaen ar ol ei mab, yr oed yn llawer mwy erbyn hyn; a'i hadgasrwyd at y còr bychan oed yn hawlio ei fod yn fab idi wedi cynydu yn fawr iawn, waith yr oed yn sicr yn awr yn ei medwl mai un o'r hen frid ydoed. nis gwydai pa fod i'w odef am fynud yn hwy yn yr un ty a hi, chwaithach godef ido alw 'mam' arni hi. ond beth bynnag, cafod digon o ras ataliol i ymdwyn yn wedaid at y gwr bychan hagr oed gyda hi yn y ty. drannoeth aeth ar ei hunion at y 'dyn cynnil' i adrod yr hyn yr oed wedi bod yn llygad dyst o hono y noson gynt, ac i ofyn am gyfarwydyd pellach. yr oedd y 'gwr cynnil' yn ei disgwyl, ac ar ei gwaith yn dyfod i'r ty adnabydod wrthi ei bod wedi gweled rhywbeth oed wedi ei chyffroi. adrodod wrtho yr hyn ag oed wedi ei ganfod ar ben y croesffyrd; ac wedi ido glywed hynny, agorod lyfr mawr ag oed gando, ac wedi hir syllu arno hysbysod hi 'fod yn angenrheidiol idi cyn cael ei phlentyn yn ol gael iâr du heb un plufyn gwyn nac o un lliw arall arni, a'i llad; ac ar ol ei lladd, ei gosod o flaen tan coed, pluf a chwbl, er ei phobi. mor gynted ag y buasai yn ei gosod o flaen y tan, idi gau pob twll a mynedfa yn yr adeilad ond un, a pheidio a dal sylw manwl ar ol y 'crimbil,' hyd nes bydai y iâr yn digon, a'r pluf i syrthio ymaith oddiarni bob un, ac yna i edrych ym mha le yr oed ef. er mor rhyfed oed cyfarwydyd y 'gwr,' penderfynod ei gynnyg; a thrannoeth aeth i chwilio ym mhlith y ieir oed yno am un o'r desgrifiad angenrheidiol; ond er ei siomedigaeth method a chael yr un. aeth o'r naill ffermdy i'r llall i chwilio, ond ymdangosai ffawd fel yn gwgu arni--waith method a chael yr un. pan ym mron digaloni gan ei haflwydiant daeth ar draws un mewn amaethdy yng nghwr y plwyf a phrynod hi yn dioedi. ar ol dychwelyd adref gosodod y tan mewn trefn, a lladod yr iâr, gan ei gosod o flaen y tan disglaer a losgai ar yr alch. pan yn edrych arni yn pobi, anghofiod y 'crimbil' yn hollol, ac yr oed wedi syrthio i rywfath o brudlewyg, pryd y synnwyd hi gan sain cerdoriaeth y tu allan i'r ty, yn debyg i'r hyn a glywod ychydig nosweithiau cyn hynny ar ben y croesffyrd. yr oed y pluf erbyn hyn wedi syrthio ymaith odiar y iâr, ac erbyn edrych yr oed y 'crimbil' wedi diflannu. edrychai y fam yn wyllt o'i deutu, ac er ei llawenyd clywai lais ei mab colledig yn galw arni y tu allan. rhedod i'w gyfarfod, gan ei gofleidio yn wresog; a phan ofynod ym mha le yr oed wedi bod cyhyd, nid oed gando gyfrif yn y byd i'w rodi ond mai yn gwrando ar ganu hyfryd yr oed wedi bod. yr oed yn deneu a threuliedig iawn ei wed pan adferwyd ef. dyna ystori 'y plentyn colledig.' 'at a farm house still remaining in the parish of llanfabon, which is called the berth gron, there lived once upon a time a young widow and her infant child. after losing her husband her only comfort in her bereavement and solitary state was young griff, her son. he was about three years old and a fine child for his age. the parish was then crammed full of bendith y mamau, and when the moon was bright and full they were wont to keep people awake with their music till the break of day. the fairies of llanfabon were remarkable on account of their ugliness, and they were equally remarkable on account of the tricks they played. stealing children from their cradles during the absence of their mothers, and luring men by means of their music into some pestilential and desolate bog, were things that seemed to afford them considerable amusement. it was no wonder then that mothers used to be daily on the watch lest they should lose their children. the widow alluded to was remarkably careful about her son, so much so, that it made some of the neighbours say that she was too anxious about him and that some misfortune would overtake her child. but she paid no attention to their words, as all her joy, her comfort, and her hopes appeared to meet together in her child. however, one day she heard a moaning voice ascending from near the cow-house, and lest anything had happened to the cattle, she ran there in a fright, leaving the door of the house open and her little son in the cradle. who can describe her grief on her coming in and seeing that her son was missing? she searched everywhere for him, but it was in vain. about sunset, behold a little lad made his appearance before her and said to her quite distinctly, "mother." she looked minutely at him, and said at last, "thou art not my child." "i am truly," said the little one. but the mother did not seem satisfied about it, nor did she believe it was her child. something whispered to her constantly, as it were, that it was not her son. however, he remained with her a whole year, but he did not seem to grow at all, whereas griff, her son, was a very growing child. besides, the little fellow was getting uglier every day. at last she resolved to go to the "wise man," in order to have information and light on the matter. there happened then to be living at castell y nos, "castle of the night," a man who was remarkable for his thorough acquaintance with the secrets of the evil one. when she had laid her business before him and he had examined her, he addressed the following remark to her: "it is a crimbil [ ], and thy own child is with those old bendith somewhere or other: if thou wilt follow my directions faithfully and minutely thy child will be restored to thee soon. now, about noon to-morrow cut an egg through the middle; throw the one half away from thee, but keep the other in thy hand, and proceed to mix it backwards and forwards. see that the little fellow be present paying attention to what thou art doing, but take care not to call his attention to it--his attention must be drawn to it without calling to him--and very probably he will ask what thou wouldst be doing. thou art to say that it is mixing a pasty for the reapers that thou art. let me know what he will then say." the woman returned, and on the next day she followed the cunning man's [ ] advice to the letter: the little fellow stood by her and watched her minutely; presently he asked, "mother, what are you doing?" "mixing a pasty for the reapers, my boy." "oh, that is it. i heard from my father--he had heard it from his father and that one from his father--that an acorn was before the oak, and that the oak was in the earth; but i have neither heard nor seen anybody mixing the pasty for the reapers in an egg-shell." the woman observed that he looked very cross as he spoke, and that it so added to his ugliness that it made him highly repulsive. 'that afternoon the woman went to the cunning man in order to inform him of what the dwarf had said. "oh," said he, "he is of that old breed; now the next full moon will be in four days--thou must go where the four roads meet above rhyd y gloch [ ], at twelve o'clock the night the moon is full. take care to hide thyself at a spot where thou canst see the ends of the cross-roads; and shouldst thou see anything that would excite thee take care to be still and to restrain thyself from giving way to thy feelings, otherwise the scheme will be frustrated and thou wilt never have thy son back." the unfortunate mother knew not what to make of the strange story of the cunning man; she was in the dark as much as ever. at last the time came, and by the appointed hour she had concealed herself carefully behind a large bush close by, whence she could see everything around. she remained there a long time watching; but nothing was to be seen or heard, while the profound and melancholy silence of midnight dominated over all. at last she began to hear the sound of music approaching from afar; nearer and nearer the sweet sound continued to come, and she listened to it with rapt attention. ere long it was close at hand, and she perceived that it was a procession of bendith y mamau going somewhere or other. they were hundreds in point of number, and about the middle of the procession she beheld a sight that pierced her heart and made the blood stop in her veins--walking between four of the bendith she saw her own dear little child. she nearly forgot herself altogether, and was on the point of springing into the midst of them violently to snatch him from them if she could; but when she was on the point of leaping out of her hiding place for that purpose, she thought of the warning of the cunning man, that any disturbance on her part would frustrate all, so that she would never get her child back. when the procession had wound itself past, and the sound of the music had died away in the distance, she issued from her concealment and directed her steps homewards. full of longing as she was for her son before, she was much more so now; and her disgust at the little dwarf who claimed to be her son had very considerably grown, for she was now certain in her mind that he was one of the old breed. she knew not how to endure him for a moment longer under the same roof with her, much less his addressing her as "mother." however, she had enough restraining grace to behave becomingly towards the ugly little fellow that was with her in the house. on the morrow she went without delay to the "wise man" to relate what she had witnessed the previous night, and to seek further advice. the cunning man expected her, and as she entered he perceived by her looks that she had seen something that had disturbed her. she told him what she had beheld at the cross-roads, and when he had heard it he opened a big book which he had; then, after he had long pored over it, he told her, that before she could get her child back, it was necessary for her to find a black hen without a single white feather, or one of any other colour than black: this she was to place to bake before a wood [ ] fire with its feathers and all intact. moreover, as soon as she placed it before the fire, she was to close every hole and passage in the walls except one, and not to look very intently after the crimbil until the hen was done enough and the feathers had fallen off it every one: then she might look where he was. 'strange as the advice of the wise man sounded, she resolved to try it; so she went the next day to search among the hens for one of the requisite description; but to her disappointment she failed to find one. she then walked from one farm house to another in her search; but fortune appeared to scowl at her, as she seemed to fail in her object. when, however, she was nearly disheartened, she came across the kind of hen she wanted at a farm at the end of the parish. she bought it, and after returning home she arranged the fire and killed the hen, which she placed in front of the bright fire burning on the hearth. whilst watching the hen baking she altogether forgot the crimbil; and she fell into a sort of swoon, when she was astonished by the sound of music outside the house, similar to the music she had heard a few nights before at the cross-roads. the feathers had by this time fallen off the hen, and when she came to look for the crimbil he had disappeared. the mother cast wild looks about the house, and to her joy she heard the voice of her lost son calling to her from outside. she ran to meet him, and embraced him fervently. but when she asked him where he had been so long, he had no account in the world to give but that he had been listening to pleasant music. he was very thin and worn in appearance when he was restored. such is the story of the lost child.' let me remark as to the urchin's exclamation concerning the cooking done in the egg-shell, that mr. hughes, as the result of further inquiry, has given me what he considers a more correct version; but it is no less inconsequent, as will be seen:-- mi glywais gan fy nhad ac yntau gan ei dad, a hwnnw gan ei dad yntau, fod mesen cyn derwen a'i phlannu mwn dár: ni chlywais yn unman am gymysg y bastai yn masgal wy iâr. i heard from my father and he from his father, and that one from his father, that the acorn exists before the oak and the planting of it in the ground: never anywhere have i heard of mixing the pasty in the shell of a hen's egg. in dewi glan ffrydlas' story from the ogwen valley, in carnarvonshire, p. above, it is not the cooking of a pasty but the brewing of beer in an egg-shell. however what is most remarkable is that the egg-shell is similarly used in stories from other lands. mr. hartland cites one from mecklenburg and another from scandinavia. he also mentions stories in which the imp measures his own age by the number of forests which he has seen growing successively on the same soil, the formula being of the following kind: 'i have seen the forest of ardennes burnt seven times,' 'seven times have i seen the wood fall in lessö forest,' or 'i am so old, i was already in the world before the kamschtschen wood (in lithuania) was planted, wherein great trees grew, and that is now laid waste again [ ].' from these and the like instances it is clear that the welsh versions here in question are partially blurred, as the fairy child's words should have been to the effect that he was old enough to remember the oak when it was yet but an acorn; and an instance of this explicit kind is given by howells--it comes from llandrygarn in anglesey--see p. , where his words run thus: 'i can remember yon oak an acorn, but i never saw in my life people brewing in an egg-shell before.' i may add that i have been recently fortunate enough to obtain from mr. llywarch reynolds another kind of estimate of the fairy urchin's age. he writes that his mother remembers a very old merthyr woman who used to tell the story of the egg-shell cookery, but in words differing from all the other versions known to him, thus:-- wy'n hén y dyd hedy, ag yn byw cyn 'y ngeni: eriôd ni welas i ferwi bwyd i'r fedal mwn cwcwll [ ] wy iâr. i call myself old this day, and living before my birth: never have i seen food boiled for the reapers in an egg-shell. as to the urchin's statement that he was old and had lived before, it is part of a creed of which we may have something to say in a later chapter. at this point let it suffice to call attention to the same idea in the book of taliessin, poem ix:-- hynaf uyd dyn pan anher a ieu ieu pop amser. a man is wont to be oldest when born, and younger and younger all the time. xiv. before closing this chapter, i wish to touch on the question of the language of the fairies, though fairy tales hardly ever raise it, as they usually assume the fairies to speak the same language as the mortals around them. there is, however, one well-known exception, namely, the story of eliodorus, already mentioned, p. , as recorded by giraldus cambrensis, who relates how eliodorus, preferring at the age of twelve to play the truant to undergoing a frequent beating by his teacher, fasted two days in hiding in the hollow of a river bank, and how he was then accosted by two little men who induced him to follow them to a land of sports and other delights. there he remained long enough to be able, years later, to give his diocesan, the second menevian bishop named david [ ], a comprehensive account of the people and realm of faery. after eliodorus had for some time visited and revisited that land of twilight, his mother desired him to bring her some of the gold of the fairies. so one day he tried to bring away the gold ball with which the fairy king's son used to play; but he was not only unsuccessful, but subjected to indignities also, and prevented from evermore finding his way back to fairyland. so he had to go again to school and to the studies which he so detested; but in the course of time he learned enough to become a priest; and when, stricken in years, he used to be entreated by bishop david to relate this part of his early history, he never could be got to unfold his tale without shedding tears. among other things which he said of the fairies' mode of living, he stated that they ate neither flesh nor fish, but lived for the most part on various kinds of milk food cooked after the fashion of stirabout, flavoured as it were with saffron [ ]. but one of the most curious portions of eliodorus' yarn was that relating to the language of the fairies; for he pretended to have learnt it and to have found it to resemble his own britannica lingua, 'brythoneg, or welsh.' in the words instanced giraldus perceived a similarity to greek [ ], which he accounted for by means of the fabulous origin of the welsh from the trojans and the supposed sojourn made in greece by those erring trojans on their way to britain. giraldus displays quite a pretty interest in comparative philology, and talks glibly of the lingua britannica; but one never feels certain that he knew very much more about it than the author of the germania, the first to refer to it under that name. tacitus, however, had the excuse that he lived at a distance and some eleven centuries before the advent of gerald the welshman. giraldus' words prove, on close examination, to be of no help to us on the question of language; but on the other hand i have but recently begun looking out for stories bearing on it. it is my impression that such are not plentiful; but i proceed to subjoin an abstract of a phantom funeral tale in point from ystên sioned (aberystwyth, ), pp. - . ystên sioned, i ought to explain, consists of a number of stories collected and edited in welsh by the rev. chancellor silvan evans, though he has not attached his name to it:--the harvest of was one of the wettest ever known in wales, and a man and his wife who lived on a small farm in one of the largest parishes in the hundred of moedin (see p. above) in the demetian part of cardiganshire went out in the evening of a day which had been comparatively dry to make some reaped corn into sheaves, as it had long been down. it was a beautiful night, with the harvest moon shining brightly, and the field in which they worked had the parish road passing along one of its sides, without a hedge or a ditch to separate it from the corn. when they had been busily at work binding sheaves for half an hour or more, they happened to hear the hum of voices, as if of a crowd of people coming along the road leading into the field. they stopped a moment, and looking in the direction whence the sounds came, they saw in the light of the moon a number of people coming into sight and advancing in their direction. they bent then again to their work without thinking much about what they had seen and heard; for they fancied it was some belated people making for the village, which was about a mile off. but the hum and confused sounds went on increasing, and when the two binders looked up again, they beheld a large crowd of people almost opposite and not far from them. as they continued looking on they beheld quite clearly a coffin on a bier carried on the shoulders of men, who were relieved by others in turns, as usual in funeral processions in the country. 'here is a funeral,' said the binders to one another, forgetting for the moment that it was not usual for funerals to be seen at night. they continued looking on till the crowd was right opposite them, and some of them did not keep to the road, but walked over the corn alongside of the bulk of the procession. the two binders heard the talk and whispering, the noise and hum as if of so many real men and women passing by, but they did not understand a word that was said: not a syllable could they comprehend, not a face could they recognize. they kept looking at the procession till it went out of sight on the way leading towards the parish church. they saw no more of them, and now they began to feel uneasy and went home leaving the corn alone as it was; but further on the funeral was met by a tailor at a point in the road where it was narrow and bounded by a fence (clawd) on either side. the procession filled the road from hedge to hedge, and the tailor tried to force his way through it, but such was the pressure of the throng that he was obliged to get out of their way by crossing the hedge. he also failed to understand a word of the talk which he heard. in about three weeks after this sham funeral [ ], there came a real one down that way from the upper end of the parish. such, in brief, is the story so charmingly told by silvan evans, which he got from the mouths of the farmer and his wife, whom he considered highly honest and truthful persons, as well as comparatively free from superstition. the last time they talked to him about the incident they were very advanced in years, and both died within a few weeks of one another early in the year . their remains, he adds, lie in the churchyard towards which they had seen the toeli slowly making its way. for toeli is the phonetic spelling in ystên sioned of the word which is teulu in north cardiganshire and in north wales, for old welsh toulu. the word now means 'family,' though literally it should mean 'house-army' or 'house-troops,' and it is practically a synonym for tylwyth, 'family or household,' literally 'house-tribe.' now the toeli or toulu is such an important institution in demetian cardiganshire and some parts of dyfed proper, that the word has been confined to the phantom, and for the word family in its ordinary significations one has there to have recourse to the non-dialect form teulu [ ]. in north cardiganshire and north wales the toeli is called simply a cladedigaeth, 'burial,' or anglad, 'funeral'; in the latter also cynhebrwng is a funeral. i may add that when i was a child in the neighbourhood of ponterwyd, on the upper course of the rheidol, hardly a year used to pass without somebody or other meeting a phantom funeral. sometimes one got entangled in the procession, and ran the risk of being carried off one's feet by the throng. there is, however, one serious difference between our phantom funerals and the demetian toeli, namely, that we recognize our neighbours' ghosts as making up the processions, and we have no trouble in understanding their talk. at this point a question of some difficulty presents itself as to the toeli, namely, what family does it mean?--is it the family and friends of the departed on his way to the grave, or does it mean the family in the sense of tylwyth teg, 'fair family,' as applied to the fairies? i am inclined to the latter view, but i prefer thinking that the distinction itself does not penetrate very deeply, seeing that a certain species of the tylwyth teg, or fairies, may, in point of origin, be regarded as deceased friends and ancestors of the tylwyth, in the ordinary sense of the word. in fact all this kind of rehearsal of events seems to have been once looked at as friendly to the men and women whom it concerned. this will be seen, for instance, in the demetian account of the canwyll gorff, or corpse candle, as granted through the intercession of st. david to the people of his special care, as a means of warning each to get ready in time for his death; that is to say, to prevent death finding him unprepared. it is hard to guess why it was assumed that the canwyll gorff was unknown in other parts of wales. one or two instances in point occur in owen's welsh folklore, pp. - ; and i have myself heard of them being seen in anglesey, while they were quite well known to members of mrs. rhys' mother's family, who lived in the parish of waen fawr, in the neighbourhood of carnarvon. nor does it appear that phantom funerals were at all confined to south wales. proof to the contrary is supplied to some extent in owen's folklore, p. ; but there is no doubt that in recent times the belief in them, as well as in the canwyll gorff, has been more general and more vivid in south wales than in north wales, especially gwyned. i have not been fortunate enough to come across anything systematic or comprehensive on the origin and meaning of ghostly rehearsals like the welsh phantom funeral or coffin making. but the subject is an interesting one which deserves the attention of our leading folklore philosophers, as does also the cognate one of second sight, by which it is widely overlapped. quite recently--at the end of in fact--i received three brief stories, for which i am indebted to the further kindness of alaw lleyn (p. ), who lives at bynhadlog near edern in lleyn, and two out of the three touch on the question of language. but as the three belong to one and the same district, i give the substance of all in english as follows:-- ( ) there were at a small harbour belonging to nefyn some houses in which several families formerly lived; the houses are there still, but nobody lives in them now. there was one family there to which a little girl belonged: they used to lose her for hours every day; so her mother was very angry with her for being so much away. 'i must know,' said she, 'where you go for your play.' the girl answered that it was to pin y wig, 'the wig point,' which meant a place to the west of the nefyn headland: it was there, she said, she played with many children. 'whose children?' asked the mother. 'i don't know,' she replied; 'they are very nice children, much nicer than i am.' 'i must know whose children they are,' was the reply; and one day the mother went with her little girl to see the children: it was a distance of about a quarter of a mile to pin y wig, and after climbing the slope and walking a little along the top they came in sight of the pin. it is from this pin that the people of pen yr allt got water, and it is from there they get it still. now after coming near the pin the little girl raised her hands with joy at the sight of the children. 'o mother,' said she, 'their father is with them to-day: he is not with them always, it is only sometimes that he is.' the mother asked the child where she saw them. 'there they are, mother, running down to the pin, with their father sitting down.' 'i see nobody, my child,' was the reply, and great fear came upon the mother: she took hold of the child's hand in terror, and it came to her mind at once that they were the tylwyth teg. never afterwards was the little girl allowed to go to pin y wig: the mother had heard that the tylwyth teg exchanged people's children. such is the first story, and it is only remarkable, perhaps, for its allusion to the father of the fairy children. ( ) there used to be at edern an old woman who occupied a small farm called glan y gors: the same family lives there still. one day this old woman had gone to a fair at criccieth, whence she returned through pwllheli. as she was getting above gors geirch, which was then a turbary and a pretty considerable bog, a noise reached her ears: she stopped and heard the sound of much talking. by-and-by she beheld a great crowd of men and women coming to meet her. she became afraid and stepped across the fence to let them go by. there she remained a while listening to their chatter, and when she thought that they had gone far enough she returned to the road and began to resume her way home. but before she had gone many steps she heard the same sort of noise again, and saw again the same sort of crowd coming; so she recrossed the fence in great fear, saying to herself, 'here i shall be all night!' she remained there till they also had gone, and she wondered what they could be, and whether they were people who had been to visit plas madrun--afterwards, on inquiry, she found that no such people had been there that day. now the old woman was near enough to the passers-by to hear them talking (clebran) and chattering (bregliach), but not a word could she understand of what they uttered: it was not welsh and she did not think that it was english--it is, however, not supposed that she knew english. she related further that the last crowd shouted all together to the other crowd in advance of them wi, and that the latter replied wi wei or something like that. this account alaw lleyn has got, he says, from a great-granddaughter of the old woman, and she heard it all from her father, bard llechog, who always had faith in the fairies, and believed that they will come again to be seen of men and women. for he thought that they had their periods, a belief which i have come across elsewhere, and more especially in carnarvonshire [ ]. now what are we to make of such a story? i recollect reading somewhere of a phantom wedding in scotland, but in wales we seem to have nothing more closely resembling this than a phantom funeral. nevertheless what the old woman of glan y gors thought she saw looks by no means unlike a welsh wedding marching on foot, especially when, as i have seen done, one party tried--seemingly in good earnest--to escape the other and to take the bride away from it. moreover, that the figures making up the two crowds in her story are to be regarded as fairies is rendered probable by the next story, which describes the phantoms therein expressly as little men and little women. ( ) the small farm of perth y celyn in edern used to be held by an old man named griffith griffiths. in his best days he stood six foot, and he has left behind him a double reputation for bodily strength and great piety. my informant can well remember him walking to chapel with the aid of his two sticks. the story goes that one day, when he was in his prime, he set out from perth y celyn at two in the morning to walk to carnarvon to pay his rent: there was no talk in those days of a carriage for anybody. after passing through nefyn and pistyll, he came in due time to bwlch trwyn swncwl [ ]: he writes this name also bwlch drws wncwl, with the suggestion that it ought to be bwlch drws encil, and that the place must have been of importance in the wars of the ancient kymry. the high-road, he goes on to say, runs through the bwlch, and as griffith was entering this gap what should he hear but a great deal of talking. he stopped and listened, when to his surprise he saw coming towards him, devoid of all fear, a crowd of little men and little women. they talked aloud, but he could not understand a single word they said: he thought that it was neither welsh nor english. they passed by him on the road, but he moved aside to the ditch lest they should knock against him; but no feeling of fear came upon him. the old man believed them to have been the tylwyth teg. in the story of the moedin funeral the language of the toeli was not intelligible to the farmer and his wife, or to the tailor, and here in two stories from lleyn we have it clearly stated that it was neither welsh nor, probably, english. since the fairies are always represented as old-fashioned in their ways, it is quite possible that they were once regarded as talking a more ancient language of the country. which was it? an early version of these legends might perhaps have supplied the answer, and told us that it was gwydelig or goidelic, if not an earlier idiom, to wit that of the aborigines before they learnt goidelic from the celts of the first wave of aryan invasion, whether it was in the region of the eifl or in the demetian half of keredigion. as to the former it is worthy of note that when griffith had reached bwlch trwyn swncwl he was in the outskirts of the eifl mountains, on one of whose heights, not very far off, is the extensive prehistoric fortress of tre'r ceiri, or the town of the keiri, a vocable which may be provisionally rendered by 'giants.' in any case it dissociates that stronghold from the brythonic people of wales. we shall find, however, that a goidel, or pict, buried in a cairn on snowdon, is known as rhita gawr, 'rhita the giant'; and it is possible that in the keiri of tre'r ceiri we have no other race than that of mixed goidels and picts whom the encroaching brythons found in possession of the west of our island. nay, one may say that this is rendered probable by the use made of the word ceiri in medieval welsh: thus in some poetry composed by a certain dafyd offeiriad, and copied by thomas williams of trefriw, we have a line alluding to britain in the words:-- coron ynys y ceûri [ ]. the crown of the giants' island. here ynys y ceûri inevitably recalls the fact that britain is called ynys y kedyrn, or island of the mighty, in the mabinogion, and also, in effect, in the story of kulhwch and olwen. but such stories as these, which enabled geoffrey to say, i. , when he introduced his banal brood of trojans, that up to that time britain had only been inhabited by a few giants, are the legends, as will be pointed out later, of the brythonicized goidels of wales. so one may infer that their ancestors had given this country the name of the island of the mighty, unless it should prove more accurate to suppose them to have somehow derived the term from the aborigines. this last surmise is countenanced by the fact that in the kulhwch story, the british isles as a group are called islands of the mighty. the words are teir ynys y kedyrn ae their rac ynys; that is, the three islands of the mighty and their three outpost islands. that is not all, for in the same story the designation is varied thus: teir ynys prydein ae their rac ynys [ ], or prydain's three islands and prydain's three outpost islands; and the substantial antiquity of the designation 'the islands of prydain,' is proved by its virtual identity with that used by ancient greek authors like ptolemy, who calls both britain and ireland a nêsos pretanikê, where pretanic and prydain are closely related words. now our prydain had in medieval welsh the two forms prydein and prydyn. but some time or other there set in a tendency to desynonymize them, so as to make ynys prydein, 'the picts' island,' mean great britain, and prydyn mean the pictland of the north. but just as cymry meant the plural welshmen and the singular wales, so prydyn meant picts [ ] and the country of the picts. now the plural prydyn has its etymological goidelic equivalent in the vocable cruithni, which is well known to have meant the picts or the descendants of the picti of roman historians. further, this last name cannot be severed from that of the pictones [ ] in gaul, and it is usually supposed to have referred to their habit of tattooing themselves. at all events this agrees with the apparent meaning of the names prydyn and cruithni, from pryd and cruth, the words in welsh and irish respectively for form or shape, the designation being supposed to refer to the forms or pictures of various animals punctured on the skins of the picts. so much as to the practical identity of the terms prydyn, cruithni, and the greeks' pretanic; but how could cedyrn and prydein correspond in the terms ynys y kedyrn and ynys prydein? this one is enabled to understand by means of ceûri or ceiri as a middle term. now cadarn means strong or valiant, and makes the plural cedyrn; but there is another welsh word cadr [ ] which has also the meaning of valiant or powerful, and may have yielded some such a medieval form as ceidyr in the plural. now this cadr is proved by its cognates [ ] not to have always had the meaning of valiant or strong: its original signification was more nearly 'fine, beautiful, or beautified.' thus what seems to have happened is, that cadarn, 'strong, powerful, mighty,' influenced the meaning of cadr, 'beautiful,' and eventually usurped its place in the name of the island, which from being ynys y ceidyr became ynys y cedyrn. but the former meant the 'island of the fine or beautiful men,' which was closely enough the meaning also of the words prydain, cruithni, and picts, as names of a people who delighted to beautify their persons by tattooing their skins and making themselves distingué in that savage fashion. that is not all, for on examination it turns out that the word ceiri, which has been treated up to this point as meaning giants, is but a double, so to say, of the word cadr in the plural, both as to etymology and original meaning of beautiful. it is a word in constant use in carnarvonshire, where it is ironically applied to pretentious men fond of showing themselves off, especially in the matter of clothes. 'd ydi nhw 'n geiri! 'aren't they swells!' dyna i ch'i gawr! 'there's a fine fellow for you!' and so also with the feminine cawres. of course the cawr of standard welsh is familiar enough in the sense of giant to carnarvonshire people, so the meaning can be best ascertained in the case of the plural ceiri, which they hardly ever meet with in print; and, so far as i have been able to ascertain, by ceiri they mean--in an ironical sense it is true--fine fellows, with reference not to great stature or strength but to their get-up. thus one arrives at the true interpretation of the name tre'r ceiri as the town of the prydyn or cruithni; that is to say, the town of the picts or the aborigines, who showed themselves off decorated with pictures. so far also from ynys y ceiri being an echo of ynys y cedyrn, it turns out to be really the more original of the two. such names, when they are closely examined, are apt to prove old beyond all hastily formed expectation. chapter iv manx folklore be it remembrid that one manaman mack clere, a paynim, was the first inhabitour of the ysle of man, who by his necromancy kept the same, that when he was assaylid or invaded he wold rayse such mystes by land and sea that no man might well fynde owte the ysland, and he would make one of his men seeme to be in nombre a hundred.--the landsdowne mss. the following paper exhausts no part of the subject: it simply embodies the substance of my notes of conversations which i have had with manx men and manx women, whose names, together with such other particulars as i could get, are in my possession. i have mostly avoided reading up the subject in printed books; but those who wish to see it exhaustively treated may be directed to mr. arthur w. moore's book on the folklore of the isle of man, to which may now be added mr. c. roeder's contributions to the folklore of the isle of man in the lioar manninagh for , pp. - . for the student of folklore the isle of man is very fairly stocked with inhabitants of the imaginary order. she has her fairies and her giants, her mermen and brownies, her kelpies and water-bulls. the water-bull or tarroo ushtey, as he is called in manx, is a creature about which i have not been able to learn much, but he is described as a sort of bull disporting himself about the pools and swamps. for instance, i was told at the village of andreas, in the flat country forming the northern end of the island, and known as the ayre, that there used to be a tarroo ushtey between andreas and the sea to the west: it was before the ground had been drained as it is now. and an octogenarian captain at peel related to me how he had once when a boy heard a tarroo ushtey: the bellowings of the brute made the ground tremble, but otherwise the captain was unable to give me any very intelligible description. this bull is by no means of the same breed as the bull that comes out of the lakes of wales to mix with the farmers' cattle, for there the result used to be great fertility among the stock, and an overflow of milk and dairy produce, but in the isle of man the tarroo ushtey only begets monsters and strangely formed beasts. the kelpie, or, rather, what i take to be a kelpie, was called by my informants a glashtyn; and kelly, in his manx dictionary, describes the object meant as 'a goblin, an imaginary animal which rises out of the water.' one or two of my informants confused the glashtyn with the manx brownie. on the other hand, one of them was very definite in his belief that it had nothing human about it, but was a sort of grey colt, frequenting the banks of lakes at night, and never seen except at night. mermen and mermaids disport themselves on the coasts of man, but i have to confess that i have made no careful inquiry into what is related about them; and my information about the giants of the island is equally scanty. to confess the truth, i do not recollect hearing of more than one giant, but that was a giant: i have seen the marks of his huge hands impressed on the top of two massive monoliths. they stand in a field at balla keeill pherick, on the way down from the sloc to colby. i was told there were originally five of these stones standing in a circle, all of them marked in the same way by the same giant as he hurled them down there from where he stood, miles away on the top of the mountain called cronk yn irree laa. here i may mention that the manx word for a giant is foawr, in which a vowel-flanked m has been spirited away, as shown by the modern irish spelling, fomhor. this, in the plural in old irish, appears as the name of the fomori, so well known in irish legend, which, however, does not always represent them as giants, but rather as monsters. i have been in the habit of explaining the word as meaning submarini; but no more are they invariably connected with the sea. so another etymology recommends itself, namely, one which comes from dr. whitley stokes, and makes the mor in fomori to be of the same origin as the mare in the english nightmare, french cauchemar, german mahr, 'an elf,' and cognate words. i may mention that with the fomori of mythic origin have doubtless been confounded and identified certain invaders of ireland, especially the dumnonians from the country between galloway and the mouth of the clyde, some of whom may be inferred to have coasted the north of ireland and landed in the west, for example in erris, the north-west of mayo, called after them irrus (or erris) domnann. the manx brownie is called the fenodyree, and he is described as a hairy and apparently clumsy fellow, who would, for instance, thrash a whole barnful of corn in a single night for the people to whom he felt well disposed; and once on a time he undertook to bring down for the farmer his wethers from snaefell. when the fenodyree had safely put them in an outhouse, he said that he had some trouble with the little ram, as it had run three times round snaefell that morning. the farmer did not quite understand him, but on going to look at the sheep, he found, to his infinite surprise, that the little ram was no other than a hare, which, poor creature, was dying of fright and fatigue. i need scarcely point out the similarity between this and the story of peredur, who, as a boy, drove home two hinds with his mother's goats from the forest: he owned to having had some trouble with the goats that had so long run wild as to have lost their horns, a circumstance which had greatly impressed him [ ]. to return to the fenodyree, i am not sure that there were more than one in man--i have never heard him spoken of in the plural; but two localities at least are assigned to him, namely, a farm called ballachrink, in colby, in the south, and a farm called lanjaghan, in the parish of conchan, near douglas. much the same stories, however, appear to be current about him in the two places, and one of the most curious of them is that which relates how he left. the farmer so valued the services of the fenodyree, that one day he took it into his head to provide clothing for him. the fenodyree examined each article carefully, and expressed his idea of it, and specified the kind of disease it was calculated to produce. in a word, he found that the clothes would make head and foot sick, and he departed in disgust, saying to the farmer, 'though this place is thine, the great glen of rushen is not.' glen rushen is one of the most retired glens in the island, and it drains down through glen meay to the coast, some miles to the south of peel. it is to glen rushen, then, that the fenodyree is supposed to be gone; but on visiting that valley in [ ] in quest of manx-speaking peasants, i could find nobody there who knew anything of him. i suspect that the spread of the english language even there has forced him to leave the island altogether. lastly, with regard to the term fenodyree, i may mention that it is the word used in the manx bible of for satyr in isaiah xxxiv. [ ], where we read in the english bible as follows: 'the wild beasts of the desert shall also meet with the wild beasts of the island, and the satyr shall cry to his fellow.' in the vulgate the latter clause reads: et pilosus clamabit alter ad alterum. the term fenodyree has been explained by cregeen in his manx dictionary to mean one who has hair for stockings or hose. that answers to the description of the hairy satyr, and seems fairly well to satisfy the phonetics of the case, the words from which he derives the compound being fynney [ ], 'hair,' and oashyr, 'a stocking'; but as oashyr seems to come from the old norse hosur, the plural of hosa, 'hose or stocking,' the term fenodyree cannot date before the coming of the norsemen; and i am inclined to think the idea more teutonic than celtic. at any rate i need not point out to the english reader the counterparts of this hairy satyr in the hobgoblin 'lob lie by the fire,' and milton's 'lubber fiend,' whom he describes as one that basks at the fire his hairy strength, and crop-full out of doors he flings, ere the first cock his matin rings. lastly, i may mention that mr. roeder has a great deal to say about the fenodyree under the name of glashtyn; for it is difficult to draw any hard and fast line between the glashtyn and the fenodyree, or even the water-bull, so much alike do they seem to have been regarded. mr. roeder's items of folklore concerning the glashtyns (see the lioar manninagh, iii. ) show that there were male and female glashtyns, and that the former were believed to have been too fond of the women at ballachrink, until one evening some of the men, dressed as women, arranged to receive some youthful glashtyns. whether the fenodyree is of norse origin or not, the glashtyn is decidedly celtic, as will be further shown in chapter vii. here it will suffice to mention one or two related words which are recorded in highland gaelic, namely, glaistig, 'a she-goblin which assumes the form of a goat,' and glaisrig, 'a female fairy or a goblin, half human, half beast.' the fairies claim our attention next, and as the only other fairies tolerably well known to me are those of wales, i can only compare or contrast the manx fairies with the welsh ones. they are called in manx, sleih beggey, or little people, and ferrishyn, from the english word fairies, as it would seem. like the welsh fairies, they kidnap babies; and i have heard it related how a woman in dalby had a struggle with the fairies over her baby, which they were trying to drag out of the bed from her. like welsh fairies, also, they take possession of the hearth after the farmer and his family are gone to bed. a man in dalby used to find them making a big fire in his kitchen: he would hear the crackling and burning of the fire when nobody else could have been there except the fairies and their friends. i said 'friends,' for they sometimes take a man with them, and allow him to eat with them at the expense of others. thus, some men from the northern-most parish, kirk bride, went once on a time to port erin, in the south, to buy a supply of fish for the winter, and with them went a kirk michael man who had the reputation of being a persona grata to the fairies. now one of the port erin men asked a man from the north who the michael man might be: he was curious to know his name, as he had seen him once before, and on that occasion the michael man was with the fairies at his house--the port erin man's house--helping himself to bread and cheese in company with the rest. as the fairies were regaling themselves in this instance on ordinary bread and cheese at a living manxman's expense, the story may perhaps be regarded as not inconsistent with one mentioned by cumming [ ] to the following effect:--a man attracted one night as he was crossing the mountains, by fairy music, entered a fairy hall where a banquet was going on. he noticed among them several faces which he seemed to know, but no act of mutual recognition took place till he had some drink offered him, when one of those whom he seemed to know warned him not to taste of the drink if he had any wish to make his way home again. if he partook of it he would become like one of them. so he found an opportunity for spilling it on the ground and securing the cup; whereupon the hall and all its inmates instantaneously vanished. on this i may remark that it appears to have been a widely spread belief, that no one who had partaken of the food for spirits would be allowed to return to his former life, and some instances will be found mentioned by professor tylor in his primitive culture, ii. - . like the welsh fairies, the manx ones take men away with them and detain them for years. thus a kirk andreas man was absent from his people for four years, which he spent with the fairies. he could not tell how he returned, but it seemed as if, having been unconscious, he woke up at last in this world. the other world, however, in which he was for the four years was not far away, as he could see what his brothers and the rest of the family were doing every day, although they could not see him. to prove this, he mentioned to them how they were occupied on such and such a day, and, among other things, how they took their corn on a particular day to ramsey. he reminded them also of their having heard a sudden sharp crack as they were passing by a thorn bush he named, and how they were so startled that one of them would have run back home. he asked them if they remembered that, and they said they did, only too well. he then explained to them the meaning of the noise, namely, that one of the fairies with whom he had been galloping the whole time was about to let fly an arrow at his brothers, but that as he was going to do this, he (the missing brother) raised a plate and intercepted the arrow: that was the sharp noise they had heard. such was the account he had to give of his sojourn in faery. this representation of the world of the fairies, as contained within the ordinary world of mortals, is very remarkable; but it is not a new idea, as we seem to detect it in the irish story of the abduction of conla rúad [ ]: the fairy who comes to fetch him tells him that the folk of tethra, whom she represents, behold him every day as he takes part in the assemblies of his country and sits among his friends. the commoner way of putting it is simply to represent the fairies as invisible to mortals at will; and one kind of welsh story relates how the mortal midwife accidentally touches her eyes, while dressing a fairy baby, with an ointment which makes the fairy world visible to her: see pp. , , above. like welsh fairies, the manx ones had, as the reader will have seen, horses to ride; they had also dogs, just as the welsh ones had. this i learn from another story, to the effect that a fisherman, taking a fresh fish home, was pursued by a pack of fairy dogs, so that it was only with great trouble he reached his own door. then he picked up a stone and threw it at the dogs, which at once disappeared; but he did not escape, as he was shot by the fairies, and so hurt that he lay ill for fully six months from that day. he would have been left alone by the fairies, i was told, if he had only taken care to put a pinch of salt in the fish's mouth before setting out, for the manx fairies cannot stand salt or baptism. so children that have been baptized are, as in wales, less liable to be kidnapped by these elves than those that have not. i scarcely need add that a twig of cuirn [ ] or rowan is also as effective against fairies in man as it is in wales. manx fairies seem to have been musical, like their kinsmen elsewhere; for i have heard of an orrisdale man crossing the neighbouring mountains at night and hearing fairy music, which took his fancy so much that he listened, and tried to remember it. he had, however, to return, it is said, three times to the place before he could carry it away complete in his mind, which he succeeded in doing at last just as the day was breaking and the musicians disappearing. this air, i am told, is now known by the name of the bollan bane, or white wort. as to certain welsh airs similarly supposed to have been derived from the fairies, see pages - above. so far i have pointed out next to nothing but similarities between manx fairies and welsh ones, and i find very little indicative of a difference. first, with regard to salt, i am unable to say anything in this direction, as i do not happen to know how welsh fairies regard salt: it is not improbable that they eschew salt as well as baptism, especially as the church of rome has long associated salt with baptism. there is, however, one point, at least, of difference between the fairies of man and of wales: the latter are, so far as i can call to mind, never supposed to discharge arrows at men or women, or to handle a bow [ ] at all, whereas manx fairies are always ready to shoot. may we, therefore, provisionally regard this trait of the manx fairies as derived from a teutonic source? at any rate english and scotch elves were supposed to shoot, and i am indebted to the kindness of my colleague, professor napier, for calling my attention to the leechdoms of early england [ ] for cases in point. now that most of the imaginary inhabitants of man and its coasts have been rapidly passed in review before the reader, i may say something of others whom i regard as semi-imaginary--real human beings to whom impossible attributes are ascribed: i mean chiefly the witches, or, as they are sometimes called in manx english, butches [ ]. that term i take to be a variant of the english word witch, produced under the influence of the verb bewitch, which was reduced in manx english to a form butch, especially if one bear in mind the cumbrian and scottish pronunciation of these words, as wutch and bewutch. now witches shift their form, and i have heard of one old witch changing herself into a pigeon; but that i am bound to regard as exceptional, the regular form into which manx witches pass at their pleasure being that of the hare, and such a swift and thick skinned hare that no greyhound, except a black one without a single white hair, can catch it, and no shot, except a silver coin, penetrate its body. both these peculiarities are also well known in wales. i notice a difference, however, between wales and man with regard to the hare witches: in wales only the women can become hares, and this property runs, so far as i know, in certain families. i have known many such, and my own nurse belonged to one of them, so that my mother was reckoned to be rather reckless in entrusting me to y gota, or 'the cutty one,' as she might run away at any moment, leaving her charge to take care of itself. but i have never heard of any man or boy of any such family turning himself into a hare, whereas in the isle of man the hare witches may belong, if i may say so, to either sex. i am not sure, however, that a man who turns himself into a hare would be called a wizard or witch; and i recollect hearing in the neighbourhood of ramsey of a man nicknamed the gaaue mwaagh, that is to say, 'the hare smith,' the reason being that this particular smith now and then assumed the form of a hare. i am not quite sure that gaaue mwaagh is the name of a class, though i rather infer that it is. if so, it must be regarded as a survival of the magic skill associated with smiths in ancient ireland, as evidenced, for instance, in st. patrick's hymn in the eleventh or twelfth century manuscript at trinity college, dublin, known as the liber hymnorum, in which we have a prayer-- fri brichta ban ocus goband ocus druad. against the spells of women, of smiths and magicians [ ]. the persons who had the power of turning themselves into hares were believed to be abroad and very active, together with the whole demon world, on the eve of may-day of the old style. and a middle-aged man from the parish of andreas related to me how he came three or four times across a woman reputed to be a witch, carrying on her evil practices at the junction of cross-roads, or the meeting of three boundaries. this happened once very early on old may morning, and afterwards he met her several times as he was returning home from visiting his sweetheart. he warned the witch that if he found her again he would kick her: that is what he tells me. well, after a while he did surprise her again at work at four cross-roads, somewhere near lezayre. she had a circle, he said, as large as that made by horses in threshing, swept clean around her. he kicked her and took away her besom, which he hid till the middle of the day. then he made the farm boys fetch some dry gorse, and he put the witch's besom on the top of it. thereupon fire was set to the gorse, and, wonderful to relate, the besom, as it burned, crackled and made reports like guns going off. in fact, the noise could be heard at andreas church--that is to say, miles away. the besom had on it 'seventeen sorts of knots,' he stated, and the woman herself ought to have been burned: in fact, he added that she did not long survive her besom. the man who related this to me is hale and strong, living now in the parish of michael, and not in that of andreas, where he was born. there is a tradition at st. john's, which is overlooked by the mountain called slieau whallian, that witches used at one time to be punished by being set to roll down the steep side of the mountain in spiked barrels; but, short of putting them to death, there were various ways of rendering the machinations of witches innocuous, or of undoing the mischief done by them; for the charmers supply various means of meeting them triumphantly, and in case an animal is the victim, the burning of it always proves an effective means of bringing the offender to book: i shall have occasion to return to this under another heading. there is a belief that if you can draw blood, however little, from a witch, or one who has the evil eye, he loses his power of harming you; and i have been told that formerly this belief was sometimes acted upon. thus, on leaving church, for instance, the man who fancied himself in danger from another would sidle up to him or walk by his side, and inflict on him a slight scratch, or some other trivial wound, which elicited blood; but this must have been a course always attended with more or less danger. the persons able to undo the witches' work, and remove the malignant influence of the evil eye, are known in manx english as charmers, and something must now be said of them. they have various ways of proceeding to their work. a lady of about thirty-five, living at peel, related to me how, when she was a child suffering from a swelling in the neck, she had it charmed away by an old woman. this charmer brought with her no less than nine pieces of iron, consisting of bits of old pokers, old nails, and other odds and ends of the same metal, making in all nine pieces. after invoking the father, the son, and the holy ghost, she began to rub the girl's neck with the old irons; nor was she satisfied with that, for she rubbed the doors, the walls, and the furniture likewise, with the metal. the result, i was assured, was highly satisfactory, as she has never been troubled with a swelling in the throat since that day. sometimes a passage from the bible is made use of in charming, as, for instance, in the case of bleeding. one of the verses then pronounced is ezekiel xvi. , which runs thus:--'and when i passed by thee, and saw thee polluted in thine own blood, i said unto thee when thou wast in thy blood, live; yea, i said unto thee when thou wast in thy blood, live.' this was told me by a laxey man, who is over seventy years of age. the methods of charming away warts are various. a woman from the neighbourhood of st. john's explained to me how a charmer told her to get rid of the warts on her hands. she was to take a string and make a knot on it for every wart she had, and then tie the string round her hand, or fingers--i forget which; and i think my informant, on her part, forgot to tell me a vital part of the formula, namely, that the string was to be destroyed. but however that may be, she assured me that the warts disappeared, and have never returned since. a lady at andreas has a still simpler method of getting rid of warts. she rubs a snail on the warts, and then places the snail on one of the points of a blackthorn, and, in fact, leaves the snail to die, transfixed by the thorn; and as the snail dies the warts disappear. she has done this in the case of her niece with complete success, so far as the wart was concerned; but she had forgotten to notice whether the snail had also succumbed. the lady who in this case applied the remedy cannot be in any sense called a charmer, however much one may insist on calling what she did a charm. in fact, the term charmer tends to be associated with a particular class of charm involving the use of herbs. thus there used to be at one time a famous charmer living near kirk michael, to whom the fishermen were in the habit of resorting, and my informant told me that he had been deputed more than once by his fellow fishermen to go to him in consequence of their lack of success in the fishing. the charmer gave him a packet of herbs, cut small, with directions that they should be boiled, and the water mixed with some spirits--rum, i think--and partly drunk in the boat by the captain and the crew, and partly sprinkled over the boat and everything in it. the charmer clearly defined his position in the matter to my informant. 'i cannot,' he said, 'put the fish in your nets for you; but if there is any mischief in the way of your luck, i can remove that for you.' the fishermen themselves had, however, more exaggerated notions of the charmer's functions, for once on a time my informant spent on drink for his boon companions the money which he was to give the charmer, and then he collected herbs himself--it did not much matter what herbs--and took them to his captain, who, with the crew, went through the proper ritual, and made a most successful haul that night. in fact, the only source of discontent was the charmer's not having distributed the fish over two nights, instead of endangering their nets by an excessive haul all in one night. they regarded him as able to do almost anything he liked in the matter. a lady at andreas gave me an account of a celebrated charmer who lived between there and the coast. he worked on her husband's farm, but used to be frequently called away to be consulted. he usually cut up wormwood for the people who came to him, and if there was none to be had, he did not scruple to rob the garden of any small sprouts it contained of cabbage or the like. he would chop them small, and give directions about boiling them and drinking the water. he usually charged any one leaving him to speak to nobody on the way, lest he break the charm, and this mysteriousness was evidently an important element in his profession. but he was, nevertheless, a thriftless fellow, and when he went to peel, and sent the crier round to announce his arrival, and received a good deal of money from the fishermen, he seldom so conducted himself as to bring much of his earnings home. he died miserably some seven or eight years ago at ramsey, and left a widow in great poverty. as to the present day, the daughter of a charmer now dead is married to a man living in a village on the southern side of the island, and she appears to have inherited her father's reputation for charming, as the fishermen from all parts are said to flock to her for luck. incidentally, i have heard in the south more than once of her being consulted in cases of sudden and dangerous illness, even after the best medical advice has been obtained: in fact, she seems to have a considerable practice. in answer to my question, how the charmer who died at ramsey used to give the sailors luck in the fishing, my informant at andreas could not say, except that he gave them herbs as already described, and she thought also that he sold them wisps to place under their pillows. i gather that the charms were chiefly directed to the removal of supposed impediments to success in the fishing, rather than to any act of a more positive nature. so far as i have been able to ascertain, charming is hereditary, and they say that it descends from father to daughter, and then from daughter to son, and so on--a remarkable kind of descent, on which i should be glad to learn the opinion of anthropologists. one of the best manx scholars in the island related to me how some fishermen once insisted on his doing the charmer for them because of his being of such and such a family, and how he made fools of them. it is my impression that the charming families are comparatively few in number, and this looks as if they descended from the family physicians or druids of one or two chieftains in ancient times. it is very likely a question which could be cleared up by a local man familiar with the island and all that tradition has to say on the subject of manx pedigrees. in the case of animals ailing, the herbs were also resorted to; and, if the beasts happened to be milch cows, the herbs had to be boiled in some of their milk. this was supposed to produce wonderful results, described as follows by a man living at a place on the way from castletown up south barrule:--a farmer in his parish had a cow that milked blood, as he described it, and this in consequence of a witch's ill-will. he went to the charmer, who gave him some herbs, which he was to boil in the ailing cow's milk, and the charmer charged him, whatever he did, not to quit the concoction while it was on the fire, in spite of any noises he might hear. the farmer went home and proceeded that night to boil the herbs as directed, but he suddenly heard a violent tapping at the door, a terrible lowing of the cattle in the cow-house, and stones coming down the 'chumley': the end of it was that he suddenly fled and sprang into bed to take shelter behind his wife. he went to the charmer again, and related to him what had happened: he was told that he must have more courage the next time, unless he wished his cow to die. he promised to do his best, and this time he stood his ground in spite of the noises and the creaking of the windows--until, in fact, a back window burst into pieces and bodily let a witch in, who craved his pardon, and promised nevermore to molest him or his. this all happened at the farm in question in the time of the present farmer's grandfather. the boiling of the charmer's herbs in milk always produces a great commotion and lowing among the cattle, and it invariably cures the ailing ones: this is firmly believed by respectable farmers whom i could name, in the north of the island in particular, and i am alluding to men whom one might consider fairly educated members of their class. in the last mentioned instance not only is the requisite cure effected, but the witch who caused the mischief is brought on the spot. i have recently heard of a parallel to this in a belief which appears to be still prevalent in the channel islands, more especially guernsey. the following incidents have been communicated to me by an ardent folklorist, who has friends in the islands:-- an old woman in torteval became ill, and her two sons were told that if they tried one of the charms of divination, such as boiling certain weeds in a pot, the first person to come to the house would prove to be the one who had cast a spell over their mother. accordingly they made their bouillederie, and who should come to the door but a poor, unoffending breton onion seller, and as he was going away he was waylaid by the two sons, who beat him within an inch of his life. they were prosecuted and sentenced to terms of imprisonment; but the charming did not come out in the evidence, though it was generally known to have been the reason for the assault. this account was given my informant in , and the incident appears to have happened not very long before. another is related thus:--a certain family suffered from a plague of lice, which they regarded as the consequence of a spell. they accordingly made their boiling of herbs and looked for the first comer. he turned out to be a neighbour of theirs who wished to buy some turnip seeds. the family abused him roundly. he went away, but he was watched and caught by two of the sons of the house, who beat him cruelly. they, on being prosecuted, had to pay him £ damages. this took place in the summer of , in the narrator's own parish, in guernsey. i have also another case of recent date, to the effect that a young woman, whose churning was so unsuccessful that the butter would not come, boiled herbs in the prescribed way. she awaited the first comer, and, being engaged, her intended husband was not unnaturally the first to arrive. she abused him so unsparingly that he broke off the engagement. these instances go far enough to raise the question why the boiling of herbs should be supposed to bring the culprit immediately on the spot, but they hardly go any further, namely, to help us to answer it. magic takes us back to a very primitive and loose manner of thinking; so the marvellously easy way in which it identifies any tie of association, however flimsy, with the insoluble bond of relationship which educated men and women regard as connecting cause and effect, renders even simpler means than i have described quite equal to the undoing of the evils resulting from the activity of the evil eye. thus, let us suppose that a person endowed with the evil eye has just passed by the farmer's herd of cattle, and a calf has suddenly been seized with a serious illness, the farmer hurries after the man of the evil eye to get the dust from under his feet. if he objects, the farmer may, as has sometimes been actually done, throw him down by force, take off his shoes, and scrape off the dust adhering to their soles, and carry it back to throw over the calf. even that is not always necessary, as it appears to be quite enough if he takes up dust where he of the evil eye has just trod the ground. there are innumerable cases on folk-record of both means proving entirely efficacious, and they remind one of a story related in the itinerarium kambriæ, i. , by giraldus, as to the archbishop when he was preaching in the neighbourhood of haverfordwest. a certain woman had lost her sight, but had so much faith in that holy man that she sent her son to try and procure the least bit of the fringe of his clothing. the youth, unable to make his way through the crowd that surrounded the preacher, waited till it dispersed, and then took home to his mother the sod on which he had stood and on which his feet had left their mark. that earth was applied by her to her face and eyes, with the result that she at once recovered her sight. a similar question of psychology presents itself in a practice intended as a preservative against the evil eye rather than as a cure. i allude to what i have heard about two maiden ladies living in a manx village which i know very well: they are natives of a neighbouring parish, and i am assured that whenever a stranger enters their house they proceed, as soon as he goes away, to strew a little dust or sand over the spot where he stood. that is understood to prevent any malignant influence resulting from his visit. this tacit identifying of a man with his footprints may be detected in a more precarious and pleasing form in a quaint conceit familiar to me in the lyrics of rustic life in wales, when, for example, a coy maiden leaves her lovesick swain hotly avowing his perfect readiness to cusanu ol ei thraed, that is, to do on his knees all the stages of her path across the meadow, kissing the ground wherever it has been honoured with the tread of her dainty foot. let me take another case, in which the cord of association is not so inconceivably slender, namely, when two or more persons standing in a close relation to one another are mistakenly treated a little too much as if mutually independent, the objection is heard that it matters not whether it is a or b, that it is, in fact, all the same, as they belong to the same concern. in welsh this is sometimes expressed by saying, yr un yw huw'r glyn a'i glocs, that is, 'hugh of the glen and his clogs are all one.' then, when you speak in english of a man 'standing in another's shoes,' i am by no means certain, that you are not employing an expression which meant something more to those who first used it than it does to us. our modern idioms, with all their straining after the abstract, are but primitive man's mental tools adapted to the requirements of civilized life, and they often retain traces of the form and shape which the neolithic worker's chipping and polishing gave them. it is difficult to arrange these scraps under any clearly classified headings, and now that i have led the reader into the midst of matters magical, perhaps i may just as well go on to the mention of a few more: i alluded to the boiling of the herbs according to the charmer's orders, with the result, among other things, of bringing the witch to the spot. this is, however, not the only instance of the importance and strange efficacy of fire. for when a beast dies on a farm, of course it dies, according to the old-fashioned view of things as i understand it, from the influence of the evil eye or the interposition of a witch. so if you want to know to whom you are indebted for the loss of the beast, you have simply to burn its carcase in the open air and watch who comes first to the spot or who first passes by: that is the criminal to be charged with the death of the animal, and he cannot help coming there--such is the effect of the fire. a michael woman, who is now about thirty, related to me how she watched while the carcase of a bewitched colt was burning, how she saw the witch coming, and how she remembers her shrivelled face, with nose and chin in close proximity. according to another native of michael, a well informed middle-aged man, the animal in question was oftenest a calf, and it was wont to be burnt whole, skin and all. the object, according to him, is invariably to bring the bewitcher on the spot, and he always comes; but i am not clear what happens to him when he appears. my informant added, however, that it was believed that, unless the bewitcher got possession of the heart of the burning beast, he lost all his power of bewitching. he related, also, how his father and three other men were once out fishing on the west coast of the island, when one of the three suddenly expressed his wish to land. as they were fishing successfully some two or three miles from the shore, they would not hear of it. he, however, insisted that they must put him ashore at once, which made his comrades highly indignant; but they soon had to give way, as they found that he was determined to leap overboard unless they complied. when he got on shore they watched him hurrying away towards where a beast was burning in the corner of a field. manx stories merge this burning in a very perplexing fashion with what may be termed a sacrifice for luck. the following scraps of information will make it clear what i mean:--a respectable farmer from andreas told me that he was driving with his wife to the neighbouring parish of jurby some years ago, and that on the way they beheld the carcase of a cow or an ox burning in a field, with a woman engaged in stirring the fire. on reaching the village to which they were going, they found that the burning beast belonged to a farmer whom they knew. they were further told it was no wonder that the said farmer had one of his cattle burnt, as several of them had recently died. whether this was a case of sacrifice or not i cannot say. but let me give another instance: a man whom i have already mentioned, saw at a farm nearer the centre of the island a live calf being burnt. the owner bears an english name, but his family has long been settled in man. the farmer's explanation to my informant was that the calf was burnt to secure luck for the rest of the herd, some of which were threatening to die. my informant thought there was absolutely nothing the matter with them, except that they had too little food. be that as it may, the one calf was sacrificed as a burnt offering to secure luck for the rest of the cattle. let me here also quote mr. moore's note in his manx surnames, p. , on the place-name cabbal yn oural losht, or the 'chapel of the burnt sacrifice.' 'this name,' he says, 'records a circumstance which took place in the nineteenth century, but which, it is to be hoped, was never customary in the isle of man. a farmer, who had lost a number of his sheep and cattle by murrain, burned a calf as a propitiatory offering to the deity on this spot, where a chapel was afterwards built. hence the name.' particulars, i may say, of time, place, and person, could be easily added to mr. moore's statement, excepting, perhaps, as to the deity in question: on that point i have never been informed, but mr. moore was probably right in the use of the capital d, as the sacrificer was, according to all accounts, a devout christian. i have to thank sir frederick pollock for calling my attention to a parallel this side of the sea: he refers me to worth's history of devonshire (london, ), p. , where one reads the following singular passage:--'living animals have been burnt alive in sacrifice within memory to avert the loss of other stock. the burial of three puppies "brandise-wise" in a field is supposed to rid it of weeds.' the second statement is very curious, and the first seems to mean that preventive sacrifices have been performed in devonshire within the memory of men living in the author's time. one more manx instance: an octogenarian woman, born in the parish of bride, and now living at kirk andreas, saw, when she was a 'lump of a girl' of ten or fifteen years of age, a live sheep being burnt in a field in the parish of andreas, on may-day, whereby she meant the first of may reckoned according to the old style. she asserts [ ] very decidedly that it was son oural, 'for a sacrifice,' as she put it, and 'for an object to the public': those were her words when she expressed herself in english. further, she made the statement that it was a custom to burn a sheep on old may-day for a sacrifice. i was fully alive to the interest of this evidence, and cross-examined her so far as her age allows of it, and i find that she adheres to her statement with all firmness, but i distinguish two or three points in her evidence: . i have no doubt that she saw, as she was passing by a certain field on the borders of andreas parish, a live sheep being burnt on old may-day. . but her statement that it was son oural, or as a sacrifice, was probably only an inference drawn by her, possibly years afterwards, on hearing things of the kind discussed. . lastly, i am convinced that she did hear the may-day sacrifice discussed, both in manx and in english: her words, 'for an object to the public,' are her imperfect recollection of a phrase used in her hearing by somebody more ambitious of employing english abstract terms than she is; and the formal nature of her statement in manx, that it was customary on may-day to burn as a sacrifice one head of sheep (laa boaldyn va cliaghtey dy lostey son oural un baagh keyrragh), produces the same impression on my mind, that she is only repeating somebody else's words. i mention this more especially as i have failed to find anybody else in andreas or bride, or indeed in the whole island, who will now confess to having ever heard of the sheep sacrifice on old may-day. the time assigned to the sheep sacrifice, namely may-day, leads me to make some remarks on the importance of that day among the celts. the day meant is, as i have already said, old may-day, in manx shenn laa boaldyn, the belltaine of cormac's glossary, scotch gaelic bealtuinn. this was a day when systematic efforts were made to protect man and beast against elves and witches; for it was then that people carried crosses of rowan in their hats and placed may flowers over the tops of their doors and elsewhere as preservatives against all malignant influences. with the same object in view crosses of rowan were likewise fastened to the tails of the cattle, small crosses which had to be made without the help of a knife: i exhibited a tiny specimen at one of the meetings of the folk-lore society. early on may morning one went out to gather the dew as a thing of great virtue, as in other countries. at kirk michael one woman, who had been out on this errand years ago, told me that she washed her face with the dew in order to secure luck, a good complexion, and safety against witches. the break of this day is also the signal for setting the ling or the gorse on fire, which is done in order to burn out the witches wont to take the form of the hare; and guns, i am told, were freely used to shoot any game met with on that morning. with the proper charge some of the witches were now and then hit and wounded, whereupon they resumed the human form and remained cripples for the rest of their lives. fire, however, appears to have been the chief agency relied on to clear away the witches and other malignant beings; and i have heard of this use of fire having been carried so far that a practice was sometimes observed--as, for example, in lezayre--of burning gorse, however little, in the hedge of each field on a farm in order to drive away the witches and secure luck. the man who told me this, on being asked whether he had ever heard of cattle being driven through fire or between two fires on may-day, replied that it was not known to him as a manx custom, but that it was an irish one. a cattle-dealer whom he named used on may-day to drive his cattle through fire so as to singe them a little, as he believed that would preserve them from harm. he was an irishman, who came to the island for many years, and whose children are settled in the island now. on my asking him if he knew whence the dealer came, he answered, 'from the mountains over there,' pointing to the mourne mountains looming faintly in the mists on the western horizon. the irish custom known to my manx informant is interesting both as throwing light on the manx custom, and as being the continuation of a very ancient rite mentioned by cormac. that writer, or somebody in his name, says that belltaine, may-day, was so called from the 'lucky fire,' or the 'two fires,' which the druids of erin used to make on that day with great incantations; and cattle, he adds, used to be brought to those fires, or to be driven between them, as a safeguard against the diseases of the year. cormac [ ] says nothing, it will be noticed, as to one of the cattle or the sheep being sacrificed for the sake of prosperity to the rest. however, scottish [ ] may-day customs point to a sacrifice having been once usual, and that possibly of human beings, and not of sheep as in the isle of man. i have elsewhere [ ] tried to equate these celtic may-day practices with the thargelia [ ] of the athenians of antiquity. the thargelia were characterized by peculiar rites, and among other things then done, two adult persons were led about, as it were scapegoats, and at the end they were sacrificed and burnt, so that their ashes might be dispersed. here we seem to be on the track of a very ancient aryan practice, although the celtic season does not quite coincide with the greek one. several items of importance for comparison here will be found passed under careful review in a most suggestive paper by mr. lawrence gomme, 'on the method of determining the value of folklore as ethnological data,' in the fourth report of the ethnographical survey committee [ ]. it is probably in some ancient may-day custom that we are to look for the key to a remarkable place-name occurring several times in the island: i allude to that of cronk yn irree laa, which probably means the hill of the rise of day. this is the name of one of the mountains in the south of the island, but it is also borne by one of the knolls near the eastern end of the range of low hills ending abruptly on the coast between ramsey and bride parish, and quite a small knoll bears the name, near the church of jurby [ ]. i have heard of a fourth instance, which, as i learn from mr. philip kermode, editor of the lioar manninagh, is on clay head, near laxey. it has been attempted to explain it as meaning the hill of the watch by day, in reference to the old institution of watch and ward on conspicuous places in the island; but that explanation is inadmissible as doing violence to the phonetics of the words in question [ ]. i am rather inclined to think that the name everywhere refers to an eminence to which the surrounding inhabitants resorted for a religious purpose on a particular day in the year. i should suggest that it was to do homage to the rising sun on may morning, but this conjecture is offered only to await a better explanation. the next great day in the pagan calendar of the celts is called in manx laa lhunys, in irish lugnassad, the assembly or fair, which was associated with the name of the god lug. this should correspond to lammas, but, reckoned as it is according to the old style, it falls on the twelfth of august, which used to be a great day for business fairs in the isle of man as in wales. but for holiday making the twelfth only suited when it happened to be a sunday: when that was not the case, the first sunday after the twelfth was fixed upon. it is known, accordingly, as the first sunday of harvest, and it used to be celebrated by crowds of people visiting the tops of the mountains. the kind of interference to which i have alluded with regard to an ancient holiday, is one of the regular results of the transition from roman catholicism to a protestant system with only one fixed holiday, namely, sunday. the same shifting has partly happened in wales, where lammas is gwyl awst, or the festival of augustus, since the birthday of augustus, auspiciously for him and the celebrity of his day, fell in with the great day of the god lug in the celtic world. now the day for going up the fan fach mountain in carmarthenshire was lammas, but under a protestant church it became the first sunday in august; and even modified in that way it could not long survive under a vigorous sabbatarian régime either in wales or man. as to the latter in particular, i have heard it related by persons who were present, how the crowds on the top of south barrule on the first sunday of harvest were denounced as pagans by a preacher called william gick, some seventy years ago; and how another man called paric beg, or little patrick, preaching to the crowds on snaefell in milder terms, used to wind up the service with a collection, which appears to have proved a speedier method of reducing the dimensions of these meetings on the mountain tops. be that as it may, they seem to have dwindled since then to comparative insignificance. if you ask the reason for this custom now, for it is not yet quite extinct, you are told, first, that it is merely to gather ling berries; but now and then a quasi-religious reason is given, namely, that it is the day on which jephthah's daughter went forth to bewail her virginity 'upon the mountains': somehow some manx people make believe that they are doing likewise. that is not all, for people who have never themselves thought of going up the mountains on the first sunday of harvest or any other, will be found devoutly reading at home about jephthah's daughter on that day. i was told this first in the south by a clergyman's wife, who, finding a woman in the parish reading the chapter in question on that day, asked the reason for her fixing on that particular portion of the bible. she then had the manx view of the matter fully explained to her, and she has since found more information about it, and so have i. it is needless for me to say that i do not quite understand how jephthah's daughter came to be introduced: perhaps it is vain to look for any deeper reason than that the mention, of the mountains may have served as a sort of catch-word, and that as the manx people began to cease from visiting the tops of the mountains annually, it struck the women as the next best thing for them to read at home of one who did 'go up and down upon the mountains': they are great readers of the bible generally. in any case we have here a very curious instance of a practice, originally pagan, modifying itself profoundly to secure a new lease of life. between may-day and november eve, there was a day of considerable importance in the island; but the fixing on it was probably due to influence other than celtic: i mean midsummer eve, or st. john's. however, some practices connected with it would seem to have been of celtic origin, such as 'the bearing of rushes to certain places called warrefield and mame on midsummer even.' warrefield was made in manx into barrule, but mame, 'the jugum, or ridge,' has not been identified. the barrule here in question was south barrule, and it is to the top of that mountain the green rushes were carried, according to manx tradition, as the only rent or tax which the inhabitants paid, namely, to manannán mac lir (called in welsh manawydan ab llyr), whom the same tradition treats as father and founder, as king and chief wizard of the isle of man, the same manannán who is quaintly referred to in the illiterate passage at the head of this chapter [ ]. as already stated, the payment of the annual rent of rushes is associated with midsummer eve; but it did not prevent the top of south barrule from being visited likewise later in the year. perhaps it may also be worth while mentioning, with regard to most of the mountains climbed on the first sunday of harvest, that they seem to have near the summit of each a well of some celebrity, which appears to be the goal of the visitors' peregrinations. this is the case with south barrule, the spring near the top of which cannot, it is said, be found when sought a second time; also with snaefell and with maughold head, which boasts one of the most famous springs in the island. when i visited it last summer in company with mr. kermode, we found it to contain a considerable number of pins, some of which were bent, and many buttons. some of the pins were not of a kind usually carried by men, and most of the buttons decidedly belonged to the dress of the other sex. several people who had resorted many years ago to st. maughold's well, told me that the water is good for sore eyes, and that after using it on the spot, or filling a bottle with it to take home, one was wont to drop a pin or bead or button into the well. but it had its full virtue only when visited the first sunday of harvest, and that only during the hour when the books were open at church, which, shifted back to roman catholic times, means doubtless the hour when the priest was engaged in saying mass. compare the passage in the mabinogi of math, where it is said that the spear required for the slaying of llew llawgyffes had to be a whole year in the making: the work was to be pursued only so long as one was engaged at the sacrifice on sunday (ar yr aberth duw sul): see the oxford mabinogion, p. . to return to man, the restriction, as might be expected, is not peculiar to st. maughold's well: i have heard of it in connexion with other wells, such as chibbyr lansh in lezayre parish, and with a well on slieau maggyl, in which some kirk michael people have a great belief. but even sea water was believed to have considerable virtues if you washed in it while the books were open at church, as i was told by a woman who had many years ago repeatedly taken her own sister to divers wells and to the sea during the service on sunday, in order to have her eyes cured of a chronic weakness. the remaining great day in the celtic year is called sauin or laa houney: in irish, samhain, genitive samhna. the manx call it in english hollantide, a word derived from the english all hallowen tide, 'the season of all saints [ ].' this day is also reckoned in man according to the old style, so that it is our twelfth of november. that is the day when the tenure of land terminates, and when servant men go to their places. in other words, it is the beginning of a new year; and kelly, in his manx-english dictionary, has, under the word blein, 'year,' the following note:--'vallancey says the celts began their year with january; yet in the isle of man the first of november is called new year's day by the mummers, who, on the eve, begin their petition in these words: to-night is new year's night, hog-unnaa [ ], &c.' it is a pity that kelly, whilst he was on this subject, did not give the rhyme in manx, and all the more so, as the mummers of the present day, if he is right, must have changed their words into noght oie houney, that is to say, to-night is sauin night or halloween. so i had despaired of finding anybody who could corroborate kelly in his statement, when i happened last summer to find a man at kirk michael who was quite familiar with this way of treating the year. i asked him if he could explain kelly's absurd statement--i put my question designedly in that form. he said he could, but that there was nothing absurd in it. he then told me how he had heard some old people talk of it: he is himself now about sixty-seven. he had been a farm servant from the age of sixteen till he was twenty-six to the same man, near regaby, in the parish of andreas, and he remembers his master and a near neighbour of his discussing the term new year's day as applied to the first of november, and explaining to the younger men that it had always been so in old times. in fact, it seemed to him natural enough, as all tenure of land ends at that time, and as all servant men begin their service then. i cross-examined him, without succeeding in any way in shaking his evidence. i should have been glad a few years ago to have come across this piece of information, or even kelly's note, when i was discussing the celtic year and trying to prove [ ] that it began at the beginning of winter, with may-day as the beginning of its second half. one of the characteristics of the beginning of the celtic year with the commencement of winter was the belief that indications can be obtained on the eve of that day regarding the events of the year; but with the calendar year gaining ground it would be natural to expect that the calends of january would have some of the associations of the calends of winter transferred to them, and vice versa. in fact, this can, as it were, be watched now going on in the isle of man. first, i may mention that the manx mummers used to go about singing, in manx, a sort of hogmanay song [ ], reminding one of that usual in yorkshire and other parts of great britain, and now known to be of romance origin [ ]. the time for it in this country was new year's eve, according to the ordinary calendar, but in the isle of man it has always been hollantide eve, according to the old style, and this is the night when boys now go about continuing the custom of the old mummers. there is no hesitation in this case between hollantide eve and new year's eve. but with the prognostications for the year it is different, and the following practices have been usual. i may, however, premise that as a rule i have abstained from inquiring too closely whether they still go on, but here and there i have had the information volunteered that they do. . i may mention first a salt prognostication, which was described to me by a farmer in the north, whose wife practises it once a year regularly. she carefully fills a thimble with salt in the evening and upsets it in a neat little heap on a plate: she does that for every member of the family, and every guest, too, if there happen to be any. the plate is then left undisturbed till the morning, when she examines the heaps of salt to see if any of them have fallen; for whoever is found represented by a fallen heap will die during the year. she does not herself, i am assured, believe in it, but she likes to continue a custom which she has learned from her mother. . next may be mentioned the ashes being carefully swept to the open hearth, and nicely flattened down by the women just before going to bed. in the morning they look for footmarks on the hearth, and if they find such footmarks directed towards the door, it means, in the course of the year, a death in the family, and if the reverse, they expect an addition to it by marriage [ ]. . then there is an elaborate process of eavesdropping recommended to young women curious to know their future husbands' names: a girl would go with her mouth full of water and her hands full of salt to the door of the nearest neighbour's house, or rather to that of the nearest neighbour but one--i have been carefully corrected more than once on that point. there she would listen, and the first name she caught would prove to be that of her future husband. once a girl did so, as i was told by a blind fisherman in the south, and heard two brothers quarrelling inside the house at whose door she was listening. presently the young men's mother exclaimed that the devil would not let tom leave john alone. at the mention of that triad the girl burst into the house, laughing and spilling the mouthful of water most incontinently. the end of it was that before the year was out she married tom, the second person mentioned: the first either did not count or proved an unassailable bachelor. . there is also a ritual for enabling a girl to obtain other information respecting her future husband: vessels placed about the room have various things put into them, such as clean water, earth, meal, a piece of a net, or any other article thought appropriate. the candidate for matrimony, with her eyes bandaged, feels her way about the house until she puts her hand in one of the aforesaid vessels. if what she lays her hand on is the clean water, her husband will be a handsome man [ ]; if it is the earth, he will be a farmer; if the meal, a miller; if the net, a fisherman; and so on into as many of the walks of life as may be thought worthy of consideration. . lastly, recourse may be had to a ritual of the same nature as that observed by the druid of ancient erin, when, burdened with a heavy meal of the flesh of a red pig, he laid him down for the night in order to await a prophetic dream as to the manner of man the nobles of erin assembled at tara were to elect to be their king. the incident is given in the story of cúchulainn's sick-bed; and the reader, doubtless, knows the passage about brian and the taghairm in the fourth canto of scott's lady of the lake. but the manx girl has only to eat a salt herring, bones and all, without drinking or uttering a word, and to retire backwards to bed. when she sleeps and dreams, she will behold her future husband approaching to give her drink. probably none of the practices which i have enumerated, or similar ones mentioned to me, are in any sense peculiar to the isle of man; but what interests me in them is the divided opinion as to the proper night for them in the year. i am sorry to say that i have very little information as to the blindman's-buff ritual (no. ); what information i have, to wit, the evidence of two persons in the south, fixes it on hollantide eve. but as to the others (nos. , , , ), they are observed by some on that night, and by others on new year's eve, sometimes according to the old style [ ] and sometimes the new. further, those who are wont to practise the salt heap ritual, for instance, on hollantide eve, would be very indignant to hear that anybody should think new year's eve the proper night, and vice versa. so by bringing women bred and born in different parishes to compare notes on this point, i have witnessed arguing hardly less earnest than that which characterized the ancient controversy between british and italian ecclesiastics as to the proper time for keeping easter. i have not been able to map the island according to the practices prevalent at hollantide and the beginning of january, but local folklorists could probably do it without much difficulty. my impression, however, is that january is gradually acquiring the upper hand. in wales this must have been decidedly helped by the influence of roman rule and roman ideas; but even there the adjuncts of the winter calends have never been wholly transferred to the calends of january. witness, for instance, the women who used to congregate in the parish church to discover who of the parishioners would die during the year [ ]. that custom, in the neighbourhoods reported to have practised it, continued to attach itself to the last, so far as i know, to the beginning of november. in the isle of man the fact of the ancient celtic year having so firmly held its own, seems to point to the probability that the year of the pagan norsemen pretty nearly coincided with that of the celts [ ]. for there are reasons to think, as i have endeavoured elsewhere to show, that the norse yule was originally at the end of summer or the commencement of winter, in other words, the days afterwards known as the feast of the winter nights. this was the favourite date in iceland for listening to soothsayers prophesying with regard to the winter then beginning. the late dr. vigfusson had much to say on this subject, and how the local sibyl, resuming her elevated seat at the opening of each successive winter, gave the author of the volospá his plan of that remarkable poem, which has been described by the same authority as the highest spiritual effort of the heathen muse of the north. chapter v the fenodyree and his friends emoi de hai sai megalai eutychiai ouk areskousi, to theion epistamenô hôs esti phthoneron..--herodotus. the last chapter is hardly such as to call for a recapitulation of its principal contents, and i venture to submit instead of any such repetition an abstract of some very pertinent notes on it by miss m. g. w. peacock, who compares with the folklore of the isle of man the old beliefs which survive in lincolnshire among the descendants of norse ancestors [ ]. she was attracted by the striking affinity which she noticed between them, and she is doubtless right in regarding that affinity as due in no small degree to the scandinavian element present in the population alike of man and the east of england. she is, however, not lavish of theory, but gives us interesting items of information from an intimate acquaintance with the folklore of the district of which she undertakes to speak, somewhat in the following order:-- . whether the water-bull still inhabits the streams of lincolnshire she regards as doubtful, but the deep pools formed, she says, by the action of the down-flowing water at the bends of the country becks are still known as bull-holes. . as to the glashtyn, or water-horse, she remarks that the tatter-foal, tatter-colt, or shag-foal, as he is variously called, is still to be heard of, although his visits take place less often than before the fens and carrs were drained and the open fields and commons enclosed. she describes the tatter-foal as a goblin of the shape and appearance of a small horse or yearling foal in his rough, unkempt coat. he beguiles lonely travellers with his numberless tricks, one of which is to lure them to a stream, swamp, or water-hole. when he has succeeded he vanishes with a long outburst of mockery, half neigh, half human laughter. . the fenodyree, one is told, has in lincolnshire a cousin, but he is diminutive; and, like the yorkshire hob or robin round-cap, and the danish niss, he is used to befriend the house in which he dwells. the story of his driving the farmer's sheep home is the same practically as in the isle of man, even to the point of bringing in with them the little grey sheep, as he called the fine hare that had given him more trouble than all the rest of the flock: see pp. - above. . the story of this manikin's clothing differs considerably from that of the fenodyree. the farmer gives him in gratitude for his services a linen shirt every new year's eve; and this went on for years, until at last the farmer thought a hemp shirt was good enough to give him. when the clock struck twelve at midnight the manikin raised an angry wail, saying:-- harden, harden, harden hemp! i will neither grind nor stamp! had you given me linen gear, i would have served you many a year! he was no more seen or heard: he vanished for ever. the cornish counterpart of this brownie reasons in the opposite way; for when, in gratitude for his help in threshing, a new suit of clothes is given him, he hurries away, crying [ ]:-- pisky new coat, and pisky new hood, pisky now will do no more good. here, also, one should compare william nicholson's account of the brownie of blednoch [ ], in galloway, who wore next to no clothing:-- roun' his hairy form there was naething seen, but a philabeg o' the rushes green. so he was driven away for ever by a newly married wife wishing him to wear an old pair of her husband's breeches:-- but a new-made wife, fu' o' rippish freaks, fond o' a' things feat for the first five weeks, laid a mouldy pair o' her ain man's breeks by the brose o' aiken-drum. let the learned decide, when they convene, what spell was him and the breeks between: for frae that day forth he was nae mair seen, and sair missed was aiken-drum! the only account which i have been able to find of a welsh counterpart will be found in bwca'r trwyn, in chapter x: he differs in some important respects from the fenodyree and the brownie. . a twig of the rowan tree, or wicken, as it is called, was effective against all evil things, including witches. it is useful in many ways to guard the welfare of the household, and to preserve both the live stock and the crops, while placed on the churn it prevents any malign influence from retarding the coming of the butter. i may remark that celts and teutons seem to have been generally pretty well agreed as to the virtues of the rowan tree. bits of iron also are lucky against witches. . fairies are rare, but witches and wizards abound, and some of them have been supposed to change themselves into dogs to worry sheep and cattle, or into toads to poison the swine's troughs. but they do not seem to change themselves into hares, as in man and other celtic lands. . witchcraft, says miss peacock, is often hereditary, passing most frequently from mother to daughter; but when a witch has no daughter her power may appear in a son, and then revert to the female line. this appears far more natural than the manx belief in its passing from father to daughter and from daughter to son. but another kind of succession is mentioned in the welsh triads, i. , ii. , iii. , which speak of math ab mathonwy teaching his magic to gwydion, who as his sister's son was to succeed him in his kingdom; and of a certain rhudlwm dwarf teaching his magic to coll, son of collfrewi, his nephew. both instances seem to point to a state of society which did not reckon paternity but only birth. . only three years previous to miss peacock's writing an old man died, she says, who had seen blood drawn from a witch because she had, as was supposed, laid a spell on a team of horses: as soon as she was struck so as to bleed the horses and their load were free to go on their way again. possibly no equally late instance could be specified in the isle of man: see p. above. . traces of animal sacrifice may still be found in lincolnshire, for the heart of a small beast, or of a bird, is necessary, miss peacock says, for the efficient performance of several counter-charms, especially in torturing a witch by the reversal of her spells, and warding off evil from houses or other buildings. apparently miss peacock has not heard of so considerable a victim as a sheep or a calf being sacrificed, as in the isle of man, but the objects of the sacrifices may be said to be the same. . several pin and rag wells are said to exist in lincolnshire, their waters being supposed to possess healing virtues, especially as regards eye ailments. . love-spells and prognostications are mentioned, some of them as belonging to allhallows, as they do partly in the isle of man: she mentions the making of dumb cake, and the eating of the salt herring, followed by dreams of the future husband bringing the thirsting lass drink in a jug, the quality of which indicates the bearer's position in life. but other lincolnshire practices of the kind seem to oscillate between allhallows and st. mark's eve, while gravitating decidedly towards the latter date. here it is preferable to give miss peacock's own words:--'professor rhys' mention of the footmark in the ashes reminds me of a love-spell current in the wapentake of manley in north lincolnshire. properly speaking, it should be put in practice on st. mark's e'en, that eerie spring-tide festival when those who are skilled may watch the church porch and learn who will die in the ensuing twelvemonth; but there is little doubt that the charm is also used at hallow e'en, and at other suitable seasons of the year. the spell consists in riddling ashes on the hearthstone, or beans on the floor of the barn, with proper ceremonies and at the proper time, with the result that the girl who works her incantation correctly finds the footprint of the man she is to marry clearly marked on the sifted mass the following morning. it is to be supposed that the spirit of the lover is responsible for the mark, as, according to another folk-belief, any girl who watches her supper on st. mark's e'en will see the spirit of the man she will wed come into the room at midnight to partake of the food provided. the room must be one with the door and windows in different walls, and both must be open. the spirit comes in by the door (and goes out by the window?). each girl who undertakes to keep watch must have a separate supper and a separate candle, and all talking is to end before the clock goes twelve, for there must not be any speaking before the spirits. from these superstitions, and from the generally received idea that the spirits of all the parishioners are to be observed entering the church on st. mark's e'en, it may be inferred that the manx footprint is made by the wraith of the person doomed to death.' compare pp. - above. what miss peacock alludes to as watching the church porch was formerly well known in wales [ ], and may be illustrated from a district so far east as the golden valley, in herefordshire, by the following story told me in by mrs. powell of dorstone, on the strength of what she had learnt from her mother-in-law, the late mrs. powell, who was a native of that parish:-- 'on allhallows eve at midnight, those who are bold enough to look through the church windows will see the building lighted with an unearthly light, and the pulpit occupied by his satanic majesty clothed in a monk's habit. dreadful anathemas are the burden of his preaching, and the names of those who in the coming year are to render up their souls may be heard by those who have courage to listen. a notorious evil liver, jack of france, once by chance passed the church at this awful moment: looking in he saw the lights and heard the voice, and his own name in the horrid list; and, according to some versions of the story, he went home to die of fright. others say that he repented and died in good repute, and so cheated the evil one of his prey.' i have no list of places in wales and its marches which have this sort of superstition associated with them, but it is my impression that they are mostly referred to allhallows, as at dorstone, and that where that is not the case they have been shifted to the beginning of the year as at present reckoned; for in celtic lands, at least, they seem to have belonged to what was reckoned the beginning of the year. the old celtic year undoubtedly began at allhallows, and the day next in importance after the calends of winter (in welsh calangáeaf) was, among the celts, the beginning of the summer half of the year, or the calends of may (in welsh calánmai), which st. mark's eve approaches too nearly for us to regard it as accidental. with this modified agreement between the lincolnshire date and the celtic one contrast the irreconcilable english date of st. john's eve; and see tylor's primitive culture, i. , where one reads as follows of 'the well-known superstition,' 'that fasting watchers on st. john's eve may see the apparitions of those doomed to die during the year come with the clergyman to the church door and knock; these apparitions are spirits who come forth from their bodies, for the minister has been noticed to be much troubled in his sleep while his phantom was thus engaged, and when one of a party of watchers fell into a sound sleep and could not be roused, the others saw his apparition knock at the church door.' with an unerring instinct for the intelligent colligation of facts, miss peacock finds the nearest approach to the yearly review of the moritures, if i may briefly so call them, in the wraith's footprint in the ashes. perhaps a more systematic examination of manx folklore may result in the discovery of a more exact parallel. for want of knowing where else to put it, i may mention here in reference to the dead, a passage which has been copied for me by my friend mr. gwenogvryn evans, from manuscript in the peniarth collection. i understand it to be of the earlier part of the sixteenth century, and p. has the following passage:-- yn yr ynys honn [manaw] y kair gweled liw dyd bobyl a vvessynt veirw / rrai gwedi tori penav / eraill gwedi torri i haelode / ac os dieithred a dissyfynt i gweled hwynt / sengi ar draed gwyr or tir ac velly hwynt a gaent weled yr hyn a welssynt hwyntav. 'in this island [man] one beholds in the light of day people who have died, some with their heads cut off and others with their limbs cut off. and if strangers desire to see them, they have to stand on the feet of the natives of the land, and in that way they would see what the latter had seen.' a similar instance of the virtue of standing on the feet of another person has been mentioned in reference to the farmer of deunant, at p. above; the foot, however, on which he had to stand in order to get a glimpse of the fairy world, was a fairy's own foot. lastly, the passage in the peniarth manuscript has something more to say of the isle of man, as follows:-- mawr oed arfer o swynion a chyvaredion gynt yn yr ynys honn / kanys gwraged a vydynt yno yn gwnevthvr gwynt i longwyr gwedir gav mewn tri chwlm o edav aphan vai eissie gwynt arnynt dattod kwlm or edav anaynt. 'great was the practice formerly of spells and sorceries in this island; for there used to be there women making wind for sailors, which wind they confined within three knots made on a thread. and when they had need of wind they would undo a knot of the thread.' this was written in the sixteenth century, and based probably on higden's polychronicon, book i, chap. xliv. (= i. - ), but the same practice of wind making goes on to this day, one of the principal practitioners being the woman to whom reference was made at p. . she is said to tie the breezes in so many knots which she makes on the purchasing sailor's pocket-handkerchief. this reminds one of the sibyl of warinsey, or the island of guernsey, who is represented by an ancient norse poet as 'fashioning false prophecies.' see vigfusson and powell's corpus poeticum boreale, i. ; also mela's first-century account of the virgins of the island of sena, which runs to the following effect:--'sena, in the britannic sea, opposite the coast of the osismi, is famous for its oracle of a gaulish god, whose priestesses, living in the holiness of perpetual virginity, are said to be nine in number. they call them gallizenæ, and they believe them to be endowed with extraordinary gifts to rouse the sea and the wind by their incantations, to turn themselves into whatsoever animal form they may choose, to cure diseases which among others are incurable, to know what is to come and to foretell it. they are, however, devoted to the service of voyagers only who have set out on no other errand than to consult them [ ].' it is probable that the sacrosanct [ ] inhabitants of the small islands on the coasts of gaul and britain had wellnigh a monopoly of the traffic in wind [ ]. in the last chapter i made allusion to several wells of greater or less celebrity in the isle of man; but i find that i have a few remarks to add. mr. arthur moore, in his book on manx surnames and place-names, p. , mentions a chibber unjin, which means the well of the ash-tree, and he states that there grew near it 'formerly a sacred ash-tree, where votive offerings were hung.' the ash-tree calls to his mind scandinavian legends respecting the ash, but in any case one may suppose the ash was not the usual tree to expect by a well in the isle of man, otherwise this one would scarcely have been distinguished as the ash-tree well. the tree to expect by a sacred well is doubtless some kind of thorn, as in the case of chibber undin in the parish of malew. the name means foundation well, so called in reference probably to the foundations of an ancient cell, or keeill as it is called in manx, which lie close by, and are found to measure twenty-one feet long by twelve feet broad. the following is mr. moore's account of the well in his book already cited, p. :--'the water of this well is supposed to have curative properties. the patients who came to it, took a mouthful of water, retaining it in their mouths till they had twice walked round the well. they then took a piece of cloth from a garment which they had worn, wetted it with the water from the well, and hung it on the hawthorn tree which grew there. when the cloth had rotted away, the cure was supposed to be effected.' i visited the spot a few years ago in the company of the rev. e. b. savage of st. thomas' parsonage, douglas, and we found the well nearly dried up in consequence of the drainage of the field around it; but the remains of the old cell were there, and the thorn bush had strips of cloth or calico tied to its branches. we cut off one, which is now in the pitt-rivers museum at oxford. the account mr. savage had of the ritual observed at the well differed a little from that given by mr. moore, especially in the fact that it made the patient who had been walking round the well with water from the well in his mouth, empty that water finally into a rag from his clothing: the rag was then tied to a branch of the thorn. it does not appear that the kind of tree mattered much; nay, a tree is not, it seems to me, essential. at any rate, st. maughold's well has no tree growing near it now; but it is right to say, that when mr. kermode and i visited it, we could find no rags left near the spot, nor indeed could we expect to find any, as there was nothing to which they might be tied on that windy headland. the absence of the tree does not, however, prove that the same sort of ritual was not formerly observed at st. maughold's well as at chibber undin; and here i must mention another well which i have visited in the island more than once. it is on the side of bradda hill, a little above the village of bradda, and in the direction of fleshwick: i was attracted to it by the fact that it had, as i had been told by mr. savage, formerly an old cell or keeill near it, and the name of the saint to which it belonged may probably be gathered from the name of the well, which, in the manx of the south of the island, is chibbyrt valtane, pronounced approximately chuvurt voltáne or oldáne. the personal name would be written in modern manx in its radical form as boltane, and if it occurred in the genitive in ogam inscriptions i should expect to find it written boltagni or baltagni [ ]. it is, however, unknown to me, though to be placed possibly by the side of the name of the saint after whom the parish of santon is called in the south-east of the island. this is pronounced in manx approximately [ ] santane or sandane, and would have yielded an early inscriptional nominative sanctanvs, which, in fact, occurs on an old stone near llandudno on the welsh coast: see some notes of mine in point in the archæologia cambrensis, , pp. - . to return to the well, it would seem to have been associated with an old cell, but it has no tree growing by. mr. savage and i were told, nevertheless, that a boy who had searched the well a short time previously had got some coins out of it, quite recent ones, consisting of halfpennies or pennies, so far as i remember. on my observing to one of the neighbours that i saw no rags there, i was assured that there had been some; and, on my further saying that i saw no tree there to which they could be tied, i was told that they used to be attached to the brambles, which grew there in great abundance. thus it appears that, in the isle of man at any rate, a tree to bear the rags was not an essential adjunct of a holy well. before leaving these well superstitions the reader may wish to know how they were understood in ireland not long ago: so i venture to quote a passage from a letter by the late mr. w. c. borlase on rag offerings and primitive pilgrimages in ireland, as follows:-- 'among the mss. of the late mr. windele, of cork, ... i find a passage which cannot fail to interest students of folk-lore. it relates to the custom of affixing shreds of rag to the hawthorn tree, which almost invariably stands by the brink of the typical irish "holy well," and it gives us the meaning of the custom as understood, some half-century since, by the inhabitants of certain localities in the province of munster. the idea is, says the writer, that the putting up these rags is a putting away of the evils impending or incurred by sin, an act accompanied by the following ritual words: air impide an tiarna mo chuid teinis do fhagaint air an ait so; i. e. by the intercession of the lord i leave my portion of illness on this place. these words, he adds, should be uttered by whoever performs the round, and they are, no doubt, of extreme antiquity. mr. windele doubtless took down the words as he heard them locally pronounced, though, to be correct, for tiarna should be read tigerna; for teinis, tinneas; and for fhagaint, fhagaim [ ].' from the less known saints boltane and santane i wish to pass to the mention of a more famous one, namely, st. catherine, and this because of a fair called after her, and held on the sixth day of december at the village of colby in the south of the island. when i heard of this fair in , it was in temporary abeyance on account of a lawsuit respecting the plot of ground on which the fair is wont to be held; but i was told that it usually begins with a procession, in which a live hen is carried about: this is called st. catherine's hen. the next day the hen is carried about dead and plucked, and a rhyme pronounced at a certain point in the proceedings contemplates the burial of the hen, but whether that ever takes place i know not. it runs thus:-- kiark catrina marroo: gows yn kione as goyms ny cassyn, as ver mayd ee fo'n thalloo. catherine's hen is dead: the head take thou and i the feet, we shall put her under the ground. a man who is found to be not wholly sober after the fair is locally said to have plucked a feather from the hen (t'eh er goaill fedjag ass y chiark); so it would seem that there must be such a scramble to get at the hen, and to take part in the plucking, that it requires a certain amount of drink to allay the thirst of the over zealous devotees of st. catherine. but why should this ceremony be associated with st. catherine? and what were the origin and meaning of it? these are questions on which i should be glad to have light shed. manx has a word quaail (irish comhdháil), meaning a 'meeting,' and from it we have a derivative quaaltagh or qualtagh, meaning, according to kelly's dictionary, 'the first person or creature one meets going from home,' whereby the author can have only meant the first met by one who is going from home. kelly goes on to add that 'this person is of great consequence to the superstitious, particularly to women the first time they go out after lying-in.' cregeen, in his dictionary, defines the qualtagh as 'the first person met on new year's day, or on going on some new work, &c.' before proceeding to give the substance of my notes on the qualtagh of the present day i may as well finish with cregeen, for he adds the following information:--'a company of young lads or men generally went in old times on what they termed the qualtagh, at christmas or new year's day, to the houses of their more wealthy neighbours; some one of the company repeating in an audible voice the following rhyme:-- ollick ghennal erriu as bleïn feer vie, seihll as slaynt da'n slane lught thie; bea as gennallys en bio ry-cheilley, shee as graih eddyr mrane as deiney; cooid as cowryn, stock as stoyr, palchey phuddase, as skaddan dy-liooar, arran as caashey, eeym as roayrt; baase, myr lugh, ayns uhllin ny soalt; cadley sauchey tra vees shiu ny lhie, as feeackle y jargan, nagh bee dy mie.' it may be loosely translated as follows:-- a merry christmas, a happy new year, long life and health to all the household here. food and mirth to you dwelling together, peace and love to all, men and women; wealth and distinction, stock and store, potatoes enough, and herrings galore; bread and cheese, butter and gravy; die like a mouse in a barn or haggard; in safety sleep while you lie to rest, and by the flea's tooth be not distressed. at present new year's day is the time when the qualtagh is of general interest, and in this case he is, outside the members of one's own household, practically the first person one sees on the morning of that day, whether that person meets one out of doors or comes to one's house. the following is what i have learnt by inquiry as to the qualtagh: all are agreed that he must not be a woman or girl, and that he must not be spaagagh or splay footed, while a woman from the parish of marown told me that he must not have red hair. the prevalent belief, however, is that he should be a dark haired man or boy, and it is of no consequence how rough his appearance may be, provided he be black haired. however, i was told by one man in rushen that the qualtagh or 'first-foot' need not be a black haired person: he must be a man or boy. but this less restricted view is not the one held in the central and northern parts of the island, so far as i could ascertain. an english lady living in the neighbourhood of castletown told me that her son, whom i know to be, like his mother, a blond, not being aware what consequences might be associated with his visit, called at a house in castletown on the morning of new year's day, and he chanced to be the qualtagh. the mistress of the house was horrified, and expressed to the english lady her anticipation of misfortunes; and as it happened that one of the children of the house died in the course of the year, the english lady has been reminded of it since. naturally the association of these events are not pleasant to her; but, so far as i can remember, they date only some eight or nine years ago [ ]. by way of bringing wales into comparison with man, i may mention that, when i was a very small boy, i used to be sent very early on new year's morning to call on an old uncle of mine, because, as i was told, i should be certain to receive a calennig or a calends' gift from him, but on no account would my sister be allowed to go, as he would only see a boy on such an occasion as that. i do not recollect anything being said as to the colour of one's hair or the shape of one's foot; but that sort of negative evidence is of very little value, as the qualtagh was fast passing out of consideration. the preference here given to a boy over a girl looks like one of the widely spread superstitions which rule against the fair sex; but, as to the colour of the hair, i should be predisposed to think that it possibly rests on racial antipathy, long ago forgotten; for it might perhaps be regarded as going back to a time when the dark haired race reckoned the aryan of fair complexion as his natural enemy, the very sight of whom brought with it thoughts calculated to make him unhappy and despondent. if this idea proved to be approximately correct, one might suggest that the racial distinction in question referred to the struggles between the inhabitants of man and their scandinavian conquerors; but to my thinking it is just as likely that it goes much further back. lastly, what is one to say with regard to the spaagagh or splay footed person, now more usually defined as flat footed or having no instep? i have heard it said in the south of the island that it is unlucky to meet a spaagagh in the morning at any time of the year, and not on new year's day alone; but this does not help us in the attempt to find the genesis of this belief. if it were said that it was unlucky to meet a deformed person, it would look somewhat more natural; but why fix on the flat footed especially? for my part i have not been trained to distinguish flat footed people, so i do not recollect noticing any in the isle of man; but, granting there may be a small proportion of such people in the island, does it not seem strange that they should have their importance so magnified as this superstition would seem to imply? i must confess that i cannot understand it, unless we have here also some supposed racial characteristic, let us say greatly exaggerated. to explain myself i should put it that the non-aryan aborigines were a small people of great agility and nimbleness, and that their aryan conquerors moved more slowly and deliberately, whence the former, of springier movements, might come to nickname the latter the flat footed. it is even conceivable that there was some amount of foundation for it in fact. if i might speak from my own experience, i might mention a difficulty i have often had with shoes of english make, namely, that i have always found them, unless made to measure, apt to have their instep too low for me. it has never occurred to me to buy ready-made shoes in france or germany, but i know a lady as welsh as i am, who has often bought shoes in france, and her experience is, that it is much easier for her to get shoes there to fit her than in england, and for the very reason which i have already suggested, namely, that the instep in english shoes is lower than in french ones. again, i may mention that one day last term [ ], having to address a meeting of welsh undergraduates on folklore, i ventured to introduce this question. they agreed with me that english shoes did not, as a rule, fit welsh feet, and this because they are made too low in the instep: i ought to have said that they all agreed except one undergraduate, who held his peace. he is a tall man, powerful in the football field, but of no dark complexion, and i have never dared to look in the direction of his feet since, lest he should catch me carrying my comparisons to cruel extremes. perhaps the flatness of the feet of the one race is not emphasized so much as the height of the instep in those of the other. at any rate i find this way of looking at the question somewhat countenanced by a journalist who refers his readers to wm. henderson's notes on the folklore of the northern counties, p. . the passage relates more particularly to northumberland, and runs as follows:--'in some districts, however, special weight is attached to the "first-foot" being that of a person with a high-arched instep, a foot that "water runs under." a flat-footed person would bring great ill-luck for the coming year.' these instances do not warrant the induction that celts are higher in the instep than teutons, and that they have inherited that characteristic from the non-aryan element in their ancestry. perhaps the explanation is, at least in part, that the dwellers in hilly regions tend to be more springy and to have higher insteps than the inhabitants of flatter lands. the statement of dr. karl blind on this point does not help one to a decision when he speaks as follows in folk-lore for , p. :--'as to the instep, i can speak from personal experience. almost every german finds that an english shoemaker makes his boots not high enough in the instep. the northern germans (i am from the south) have perhaps slightly flatter feet than the southern germans.' the first part of the comparison is somewhat of a surprise to me, but not so the other part, that the southern germans inhabiting a hillier country, and belonging to a different race, may well be higher in the instep than the more northern speakers of the german language. but on the whole the more one examines the qualtagh, the less clearly one sees how he can be the representative of a particular race. more data possibly would enable one to arrive at greater probability. there is one other question which i should like to ask before leaving the qualtagh, namely, as to the relation of the custom of new year's gifts to the belief in the qualtagh. i have heard it related in the isle of man that women have been known to keep indoors on new year's day until the qualtagh comes, which sometimes means their being prisoners for the greater part of the day, in order to avoid the risk of first meeting one who is not of the right sex and complexion. on the other hand, when the qualtagh is of the right description, considerable fuss is made of him; to say the least, he has to accept food and drink, possibly more permanent gifts. thus a tall, black haired native of kirk michael described to me how he chanced on new year's day, years ago, to turn into a lonely cottage in order to light his pipe, and how he found he was the qualtagh: he had to sit down to have food, and when he went away it was with a present and the blessings of the family. now new year's day is the time for gifts in wales, as shown by the name for them, calennig, which is derived from calan, the welsh form of the latin calendæ, new year's day being in welsh y calan, 'the calends.' the same is the day for gifts in scotland and in ireland, except in so far as christmas boxes have been making inroads from england: i need not add that the jour de l'an is the day for gifts also in france. my question then is this: is there any essential connexion of origin between the institution of new year's day gifts and the belief in the first-foot? now that it has been indicated what sort of a qualtagh it is unlucky to have, i may as well proceed to mention the other things which i have heard treated as unlucky in the island. some of them scarcely require to be noticed, as there is nothing specially manx about them, such as the belief that it is unlucky to have the first glimpse of the new moon through glass. that is a superstition which is, i believe, widely spread, and, among other countries, it is quite familiar in wales, where it is also unlucky to see the moon for the first time through a hedge or over a house. what this means i cannot guess, unless it be that it was once considered one's duty to watch the first appearance of the new moon from the highest point in the landscape of the district in which one dwelt. such a point would in that case become the chief centre of a moon worship now lost in oblivion. it is believed in man, as it used to be in wales and ireland, that it is unlucky to disturb antiquities, especially old burial places and old churches. this superstition is unfortunately passing away in all three countries, but you still hear of it, especially in the isle of man, mostly after mischief has been done. thus a good manx scholar told me how a relative of his in the ronnag, a small valley near south barrule, had carted away the earth from an old burial ground on his farm and used it as manure for his fields, and how his beasts died afterwards. the narrator said he did not know whether there was any truth in it, but everybody believed that it was the reason why the cattle died; and so did the farmer himself at last: so he desisted from completing his disturbance of the old site. it is possibly for a similar reason that a house in ruins is seldom pulled down, or the materials used for other buildings. where that has been done misfortunes have ensued; at any rate, i have heard it said so more than once. i ought to have stated that the non-disturbance of antiquities in the island is quite consistent with their being now and then shamefully neglected as elsewhere. this is now met by an excellent statute recently enacted by the house of keys for the preservation of the public monuments of the island. of the other and more purely manx superstitions i may mention one which obtains among the peel fishermen of the present day: no boat is willing to be third in the order of sailing out from peel harbour to the fisheries. so it sometimes happens that after two boats have departed, the others remain watching each other for days, each hoping that somebody else may be reckless enough to break through the invisible barrier of 'bad luck.' i have often asked for an explanation of this superstition, but the only intelligible answer i have had was that it has been observed that the third boat has done badly several years in succession; but i am unable to ascertain how far that represents the fact. another of the unlucky things is to have a white stone in the boat, even in the ballast, and for that i never could get any explanation at all; but there is no doubt as to the fact of this superstition, and i may illustrate it from the case of a clergyman's son on the west side, who took it into his head to go out with some fishermen several days in succession. they chanced to be unsuccessful each time, and they gave their jonah the nickname of clagh vane, or 'white stone.' now what can be the origin of this tabu? it seems to me that if the manx had once a habit of adorning the graves of the departed with white stones, that circumstance would be a reasonable explanation of the superstition in question. further, it is quite possible they did, and here manx archæologists could probably help as to the matter of fact. in the absence, however, of information to the point from man, i take the liberty of citing some relating to scotland. it comes from mr. gomme's presidential address to the folk-lore society: see folk-lore for , pp. - :-- 'near inverary, it is the custom among the fisher-folk, and has been so within the memory of the oldest, to place little white stones or pebbles on the graves of their friends. no reason is now given for the practice, beyond that most potent and delightful of all reasons in the minds of folk-lore students, namely, that it has always been done. now there is nothing between this modern practice sanctioned by traditional observance and the practice of the stone-age people in the same neighbourhood and in others, as made known to us by their grave-relics. thus, in a cairn at achnacrie opened by dr. angus smith, on entering the innermost chamber "the first thing that struck the eye was a row of quartz pebbles larger than a walnut; these were arranged on the ledge of the lower granite block of the east side." near crinan, at duncraigaig and at rudie, the same characteristic was observed, and canon greenwell, who examined the cairns, says the pebbles "must have been placed there with some intention, and probably possessed a symbolic meaning."' see also burghead, by mr. h. w. young (inverness, ), p. , where we read that at burghead the 'smooth white pebbles, sometimes five or seven of them, but never more,' have been usually arranged as crosses on the graves which he has found under the fallen ramparts. can this be a christian superstition with the white stones of the apocalypse as its foundation? here i may mention a fact which i do not know where else to put, namely, that a fisherman on his way in the morning to the fishing, and chancing to pass by the cottage of another fisherman who is not on friendly terms with him, will pluck a straw from the thatch of the latter's dwelling. thereby he is supposed to rob him of his luck in the fishing for that day. one would expect to learn that the straw from the thatch served as the subject of an incantation directed against the owner of the thatch. i have never heard anything suggested to that effect; but i conclude that the plucking of the straw is only a partial survival of what was once a complete ritual for bewitching one's neighbour, unless getting possession of the straw was supposed to carry with it possession of everything belonging to the other man, including his luck in fishing for that day. owing to my ignorance as to the superstitions of other fishermen than those of the isle of man, i will not attempt to classify the remaining instances to be mentioned, such as the unluckiness of mentioning a horse or a mouse on board a fishing-boat: i seem, however, to have heard of similar tabus among scottish fishermen; and, according to dr. blind, shetland fishermen will not mention a church or a clergyman when out at sea, but use quite other names for both when on board a ship (folk-lore for , p. ). novices in the manx fisheries have to learn not to point to anything with one finger: they have to point with the whole hand or not at all. this looks as if it belonged to a code of rules as to the use of the hand, such as prevail among the neapolitans and other peoples whose chief article of faith is the belief in malign influences: see mr. elworthy's volume on the evil eye. whether the manx are alone in thinking it unlucky to lend salt from one boat to another when they are engaged in the fishing, i know not: such lending would probably be inconvenient, but why it should be unlucky, as they believe it to be, does not appear. the first of may is a day on which it is unlucky to lend anything, and especially to give anyone fire [ ]. this looks as if it pointed back to some druidic custom of lighting all fires at that time from a sacred hearth, but, so far as is known, this only took place at the beginning of the other half-year, namely, sauin or allhallows, which is sometimes rendered into manx as laa 'll mooar ny saintsh, 'the day of the great feast of the saints.' lastly, i may mention that it is unlucky to say that you are very well: at any rate, i infer that it is regarded so, as you will never get a manxman to say that he is feer vie, 'very well.' he usually admits that he is 'middling'; and if by any chance he risks a stronger adjective, he hastens to qualify it by adding 'now,' or 'just now,' with an emphasis indicative of his anxiety not to say too much. his habits of speech point back to a time when the manx mind was dominated by the fear of awaking malignant influences in the spirit world around him. this has had the effect of giving the manx peasant's character a tinge of reserve and suspicion, which makes it difficult to gain his confidence: his acquaintance has, therefore, to be cultivated for some time before you can say that you know the workings of his heart. the pagan belief in a nemesis has doubtless passed away, but not without materially affecting the manx idea of a personal devil. ever since the first allusion made in my hearing by manxmen to the devil, i have been more and more deeply impressed that for them the devil is a much more formidable being than englishmen or welshmen picture him. he is a graver and, if i may say so, a more respectable being, allowing no liberties to be taken with his name, so you had better not call him a devil, the evil one, or like names, for his proper designation is noid ny hanmey, 'the enemy of the soul,' and in ordinary anglo-manx conversation he is commonly called 'the enemy of souls.' i well remember getting one day into a conversation with an old soldier in the south of the island. he was, as i soon discovered, labouring under a sort of theological monomania, and his chief question was concerning the welsh word for 'the enemy of souls.' i felt at once that i had to be careful, and that the reputation of my countrymen depended on how i answered. as i had no name anything like the one he used for the devil, i explained to him that the welsh, though not a great nation, were great students of theology, and that they had by no means neglected the great branch of it known as satanology. in fact that study, as i went on to say, had left its impress on the welsh language: on sunday the ministers of all denominations, the deacons and elders, and all self-respecting congregations spoke of the devil trisyllabically as diafol, while on the other days of the week everybody called him more briefly and forcibly diawl, except bards concocting an awdl for an eistedfod, where the devil must always be called diafl, and excepting also sailors, farm servants, post-boys and colliers, together with country gentlemen learning welsh to address their wouldn't-be constituents--for all these the regulation form was jawl, with an english j. thus one could, i pointed out to him, fix the social standing of a welshman by the way he named 'the enemy of souls,' as well as appreciate the superiority of welsh over greek, seeing that welsh, when it borrowed diabolos from greek, quadrupled it, while greek remained sterile. he was so profoundly impressed that i never was able to bring his attention back to the small fry, spiritually speaking, of the isle of man, to wit, the fairies and the fenodyree, or even the witches and the charmers, except that he had some reserve of faith in witches, since the witch of endor was in the bible and had ascribed to her a 'terr'ble' great power of raising spirits: that, he thought, must be true. i pointed out to him that a fenodyree (see p. ) was also mentioned in his bible: this display of ready knowledge on my part made a deep impression on his mind. the manx are, as a rule, a sober people, and highly religious; as regards their tenets, they are mostly members of the church of england or wesleyan methodists, or else both, which is by no means unusual. religious phrases are not rare in their ordinary conversation; in fact, they struck me as being of more frequent occurrence than in wales, even the wales of my boyhood; and here and there this fondness for religious phraseology has left its traces on the native vocabulary. take, for example, the word for 'anybody, a person, or human being,' which cregeen writes py'agh or p'agh: he rightly regards it as the colloquial pronunciation of peccagh, 'a sinner.' so, when one knocks at a manx door and calls out, vel p'agh sthie? he literally asks, 'is there any sinner indoors?' the question has, however, been explained to me, with unconscious irony, as properly meaning, 'is there any christian indoors?' and care is now taken in reading to pronounce the middle consonants of the word peccagh, 'sinner,' so as to distinguish it from the word for a christian 'anybody': but the identity of origin is unmistakable. lastly, the fact that a curse is a species of prayer, to wit, a prayer for evil to follow, is well exemplified in manx by the same words, gwee [ ], plural gwecaghyn, meaning both kinds of prayer. thus i found myself stumbling several times, in reading through the psalms in manx, from not bearing in mind the sinister meaning of these words; for example in psalm xiv. , where we have ta 'n beeal oc lane dy ghweeaghyn as dy herriuid, which i mechanically construed to mean 'their mouth is full of praying and bitterness,' instead of 'cursing and bitterness'; and so in other cases, such as ps. x. , and cix. . it occurred to me on various occasions to make inquiries as to the attitude of religious manxmen towards witchcraft and the charmer's vocation. nobody, so far as i know, accuses them of favouring witchcraft in any way whatsoever; but as to the reality of witches and witchcraft they are not likely to have any doubts so long as they dwell on the biblical account of the witch of endor, as i have already mentioned in the case of the old crimean soldier. then as to charmers i have heard it distinctly stated that the most religious men are they who have most confidence in charmers and their charms; and a lay preacher whom i know has been mentioned to me as now and then doing a little charming in cases of danger or pressing need. on the whole, i think the charge against religious people of consulting charmers is somewhat exaggerated; but i believe that recourse to the charmer is more usual and more openly had than, for example, in wales, where those who consult a dyn hyspys or 'wise man' have to do it secretly, and at the risk of being expelled by their co-religionists from the seiet or 'society.' there is somewhat in the atmosphere of man to remind one rather of the wales of a past generation--wales as it was at the time when the rev. edmund jones could write a relation of apparitions of spirits in the county of monmouth and the principality of wales, as a book 'designed to confute and to prevent the infidelity of denying the being and apparition of spirits, which tends to irreligion and atheism': see pp. , above. the manx peasantry are perhaps the most independent and prosperous in the british isles; but their position geographically and politically has been favourable to the continuance of ideas not quite up to the level of the latest papers on darwinism and evolution read at our church congresses in this country. this may be thought to be here wide of the mark; but, after giving, in the previous chapter, specimens of rather ancient superstitions as recently known in the island, it is but right that one should form an idea of the surroundings in which they have lingered into modern times. perhaps nothing will better serve to bring this home to the reader's mind than the fact, for which there is proof, that old people still living remember men and women clad in white sheets doing penance publicly in the churches of man. the following is the evidence which i was able to find, and i may state that i first heard in of the public penance from mr. joughin, who was an aged man and a native of kirk bride. he related how a girl named mary dick gave an impertinent answer to the clergyman when he was catechizing her class, and how she had to do penance for it at church. she took her revenge on the parson by singing, while attending in a white sheet, louder than everybody else in the congregation. this, unless i am mistaken, mr. joughin gave me to understand he had heard from his father. i mentioned the story to a clergyman, who was decidedly of opinion that no one alive now could remember anything about public penance. not long after, however, i got into conversation with a shoemaker at kirk michael, named dan kelly, who was nearly completing his eighty-first year. he was a native of ballaugh, and stated that he remembered many successive occupants of the episcopal see. a long time ago the official called the sumner had, out of spite he said, appointed him to serve as one of the four of the chapter jury. it was, he thought, when he was about twenty-five. during his term of office he saw four persons, of whom two were married men and two unmarried women, doing penance in the parish church of ballaugh for having illegitimate children. they stood in the alley of the church, and the sumner had to throw white sheets over them; on the fourth sunday of their penance they stood inside the chancel rails, but not to take the communion. the parson, whose name was stowell or stowall, made them thoroughly ashamed of themselves on the fourth sunday, as one of the men afterwards admitted. kelly mentioned the names of the women and of one of the men, and he indicated to me some of their descendants as well known in the neighbourhood. i cross-examined him all the more severely, as i had heard the other view of the remoteness of the date. but nothing could shake kelly, who added that soon after the date of the above mentioned cases the civil functionary, known as the vicar-general, put an end to the chapter jury and to public penance: according to his reckoning the penance he spoke of must have taken place about . another old man, named kewley, living now near kirk michael, but formerly in the parish of lezayre, had a similar story. he thinks that he was born in the sixth year of the century, and when he was between eighteen and twenty he saw a man doing public penance, in lezayre church, i presume, but i have no decided note on that point. however that may be, he remembered that the penitent, when he had done his penance, had the audacity to throw the white sheet over the sumner, who, the penitent remarked, might now wear it himself, as he had had enough of it. kewley would bring the date only down to about . lastly, i was in the island again in , and spent the first part of the month of april at peel, where i had conversations with a retired captain who was then about seventy-eight. he is a native of the parish of dalby, but he was only 'a lump of a boy' when the last couple of immorals were forced to do penance in white sheets at church. he gave me the guilty man's name, and the name of his home in the parish, and both the captain and his daughter assured me that the man had only been dead six or seven years; that is, the penitent seems to have lived till about the year . i may here mention that the parish of dalby is the subject of many tales, which go to show that its people were more old-fashioned in their ways than those of the rest of the island. it appears to have been the last, also, to be reached by a cart road; and i was amused by a native's description of the men at methodist meetings in dalby pulling the tappag, or forelock, at the name of jesus, while the women ducked a curtsy in a dangerously abrupt fashion. he and his wife appeared to be quite used to it: the husband was an octogenarian named quirc, who was born on the coast near the low-lying peninsula called the niarbyl, that is to say 'the tail.' to return to the public penance, it seems to us in this country to belong, so to say, to ancient history, and it transports us to a state of things which we find it hard to realize. the lapse of years has brought about profounder changes in our greater isle of britain than in the smaller isle of man, while we ourselves, helpless to escape the pervading influence of those profounder changes, become living instances of the comprehensive truth of the german poet's words, omnia mutantur, nos et mutamur in illis. chapter vi the folklore of the wells ... iuvat integros accedere fontes.--lucretius. it is only recently [ ] that i heard for the first time of welsh instances of the habit of tying rags and bits of clothing to the branches of a tree growing near a holy well. since then i have obtained several items of information in point: the first is a communication received in june, , from mr. j. h. davies, of lincoln college, oxford--since then of lincoln's inn--relating to a glamorganshire holy well, situated near the pathway leading from coychurch to bridgend. it is the custom there, he states, for people suffering from any malady to dip a rag in the water, and to bathe the affected part of the body, the rag being then placed on a tree close to the well. when mr. davies passed that way, some three years previously, there were, he adds, hundreds of such shreds on the tree, some of which distinctly presented the appearance of having been very recently placed there. the well is called ffynnon cae moch, 'swine-field well,' which can hardly have been its old name; and a later communication from mr. davies summarizes a conversation which he had about the well, on december , , with mr. j. t. howell, of pencoed, near bridgend. his notes run thus:--'ffynnon cae moch, between coychurch and bridgend, is one mile from coychurch, one and a quarter from bridgend, near tremains. it is within twelve or fifteen yards of the high-road, just where the pathway begins. people suffering from rheumatism go there. they bathe the part affected with water, and afterwards tie a piece of rag to the tree which overhangs the well. the rag is not put in the water at all, but is only put on the tree for luck. it is a stunted, but very old tree, and is simply covered with rags.' a little less than a year later, i had an opportunity of visiting this well in the company of mr. brynmor-jones; and i find in my notes that it is not situated so near the road as mr. howell would seem to have stated to mr. davies. we found the well, which is a powerful spring, surrounded by a circular wall. it is overshadowed by a dying thorn tree, and a little further back stands another thorn which is not so decayed: it was on this latter thorn we found the rags. i took off a twig with two rags, while mr. brynmor-jones counted over a dozen other rags on the tree; and we noticed that some of them had only recently been suspended there: among them were portions undoubtedly of a woman's clothing. at one of the hotels at bridgend, i found an illiterate servant who was acquainted with the well, and i cross-examined him on the subject of it. he stated that a man with a wound, which he explained to mean a cut, would go and stand in the well within the wall, and there he would untie the rag that had been used to tie up the wound and would wash the wound with it: then he would tie up the wound with a fresh rag and hang the old one on the tree. the more respectable people whom i questioned talked more vaguely, and only of tying a rag to the tree, except one who mentioned a pin being thrown into the well or a rag being tied to the tree. my next informant is mr. d. j. jones, a native of the rhonda valley, in the same county of glamorgan. he was an undergraduate of jesus college, oxford, when i consulted him in . his information was to the effect that he knows of three interesting wells in the county. the first is situated within two miles of his home, and is known as ffynnon pen rhys, or the well of pen rhys. the custom there is that the person who wishes his health to be benefited should wash in the water of the well, and throw a pin into it afterwards. he next mentions a well at llancarvan, some five or six miles from cowbridge, where the custom prevails of tying rags to the branches of a tree growing close at hand. lastly, he calls my attention to a passage in hanes morganwg, 'the history of glamorgan,' written by mr. d. w. jones, known in welsh literature as dafyd morganwg. in that work, p. , the author speaks of ffynnon marcros, 'the well of marcros,' to the following effect:--'it is the custom for those who are healed in it to tie a shred of linen or cotton to the branches of a tree that stands close by; and there the shreds are, almost as numerous as the leaves.' marcros is, i may say, near nash point, and looks on the map as if it were about eight miles distant from bridgend. let me here make it clear that so far we have had to do with four different wells [ ], three of which are severally distinguished by the presence of a tree adorned with rags by those who seek health in those waters; but they are all three, as the reader will have doubtless noticed, in the same district, namely, the part of glamorganshire near the main line of the great western railway. there is no reason, however, to think that the custom of tying rags to a well tree was peculiar to that part of the principality. one day, in looking through some old notes of mine, i came across an entry bearing the date of august , , when i was spending a few days with my friend, chancellor silvan evans, at llanwrin rectory, near machynlleth. mrs. evans was then alive and well, and took a keen interest in welsh antiquities and folklore. among other things, she related to me how she had, some twenty years before, visited a well in the parish of llandrillo yn rhos, namely ffynnon eilian, or elian's well, between abergele and llandudno, when her attention was directed to some bushes near the well, which had once been covered with bits of rags left by those who frequented the well. this was told mrs. evans by an old woman of seventy, who, on being questioned by mrs. evans concerning the history of the well, informed her that the rags used to be tied to the bushes by means of wool. she was explicit on the point, that wool had to be used for the purpose, and that even woollen yarn would not do: it had to be wool in its natural state. the old woman remembered this to have been the rule ever since she was a child. mrs. evans noticed corks, with pins stuck in them, floating in the well, and her informant remembered many more in years gone by; for elian's well was once in great repute as a ffynnon reibio, or a well to which people resorted for the kindly purpose of bewitching those whom they hated. i infer, however, from what mrs. evans was told of the rags, that elian's well was visited, not only by the malicious, but also by the sick and suffering. my note is not clear on the point whether there were any rags on the bushes by the well when mrs. evans visited the spot, or whether she was only told of them by the caretaker. even in the latter case it seems evident that this habit of tying rags to trees or bushes near sacred wells has only ceased in that part of denbighshire within this century. it is very possible that it continued in north wales more recently than this instance would lead one to suppose; indeed, i should not be in the least surprised to learn that it is still practised in out of the way places in gwyned, just as it is in glamorgan: we want more information. i cannot say for certain whether it was customary in any of the cases to which i have called attention to tie rags to the well tree as well as to throw pins or other small objects into the well; but i cannot help adhering to the view, that the distinction was probably an ancient one between two orders of things. in other words, i am inclined to believe that the rag was regarded as the vehicle of the disease of which the ailing visitor to the well wished to be rid, and that the bead, button, or coin deposited by him in the well, or in a receptacle near the well, formed alone the offering. in opposition to this view mr. gomme has expressed himself as follows in folk-lore, , p. :--'there is some evidence against that, from the fact that in the case of some wells, especially in scotland at one time, the whole garment was put down as an offering. gradually these offerings of clothes became less and less till they came down to rags. also in other parts, the geographical distribution of rag-offerings coincides with the existence of monoliths and dolmens.' as to the monoliths and dolmens, i am too little conversant with the facts to risk any opinion as to the value of the coincidence; but as to the suggestion that the rag originally meant the whole garment, that will suit my hypothesis admirably. in other words, the whole garment was, as i take it, the vehicle of the disease: the whole was accursed, and not merely a part. but mr. gomme had previously touched on the question in his presidential address (folk-lore for , p. ); and i must at once admit that he succeeded then in proving that a certain amount of confusion occurs between things which i should regard as belonging originally to distinct categories: witness the inimitable irish instance which he quotes:--'to st. columbkill--i offer up this button, a bit o' the waistband o' my own breeches, an' a taste o' my wife's petticoat, in remimbrance of us havin' made this holy station; an' may they rise up in glory to prove it for us in the last day.' here not only the button is treated as an offering, but also the bits of clothing; but the confusion of ideas i should explain as being, at least in part, one of the natural results of substituting a portion of a garment for the entire garment; for thereby a button or a pin becomes a part of the dress, and capable of being interpreted in two senses. after all, however, the ordinary practices have not, as i look at them, resulted in effacing the distinction altogether: the rag is not left in the well; nor is the bead, button, or pin attached to a branch of the tree. so, in the main, it seemed to me easier to explain the facts, taken altogether, on the supposition that originally the rag was regarded as the vehicle of the disease, and the bead, button, or coin as the offering. my object in calling attention to this point was to have it discussed, and i am happy to say that i have not been disappointed; for, since my remarks were published [ ], a paper entitled pin-wells and rag-bushes was read before the british association by mr. hartland, in , and published in folk-lore for the same year, pp. - . in that paper the whole question is gone into with searching logic, and mr. hartland finds the required explanation in one of the dogmas of magic. for 'if an article of my clothing,' he says, 'in a witch's hands may cause me to suffer, the same article in contact with a beneficent power may relieve my pain, restore me to health, or promote my general prosperity. a pin that has pricked my wart ... has by its contact, by the wound it has inflicted, acquired a peculiar bond with the wart; the rag that has rubbed the wart has by that friction acquired a similar bond; so that whatever is done to the pin or the rag, whatever influences the pin or the rag may undergo, the same influences are by that very act brought to bear, upon the wart. if, instead of using a rag, or making a pilgrimage to a sacred well, i rub my warts with raw meat and then bury the meat, the wart will decay and disappear with the decay and dissolution of the meat.... in like manner my shirt or stocking, or a rag to represent it, placed upon a sacred bush, or thrust into a sacred well--my name written upon the walls of a temple--a stone or a pellet from my hand cast upon a sacred image or a sacred cairn--is thenceforth in continual contact with divinity; and the effluence of divinity, reaching and involving it, will reach and involve me.' mr. hartland concludes from a large number of instances, that as a rule 'where the pin or button is dropped into the well, the patient does not trouble about the rag, and vice versa.' this wider argument as to the effluence of the divinity of a particular spot of special holiness seems to me conclusive. it applies also, needless to say, to a large category of cases besides those in question between mr. gomme and the present writer. so now i would revise my position thus:--i continue to regard the rag much as before, but treat the article thrown into the well as the more special means of establishing a beneficial relation with the well divinity: whether it could also be viewed as an offering would depend on the value attached to it. some of the following notes may serve as illustrations, especially those relating to the wool and the pin:--ffynnon gwynwy, or the well of gwynwy, near llangelynin, on the river conwy, appears to be partly in point; for it formerly used to be well stocked with crooked pins, which nobody would touch lest he might get from them the warts supposed to attach to them, whence it would appear that a pin might be regarded as the vehicle of the disease. there was a well of some repute at cae garw, in the parish of pistyll, near the foot of carnguwch, in lleyn, or west carnarvonshire. the water possessed virtues to cure one of rheumatism and warts; but, in order to be rid of the latter, it was requisite to throw a pin into the well for each individual wart. for these two items of information, and several more to be mentioned presently, i have to thank mr. john jones, better known in wales by his bardic name of myrdin fard, and as an enthusiastic collector of welsh antiquities, whether in the form of manuscript or of unwritten folklore. on the second day of the year i paid him a visit at chwilog, on the carnarvon and avon wen railway, and asked him many questions: these he not only answered with the utmost willingness, but he also showed me the unpublished materials which he had collected. i come next to a competition on the folklore of north wales at the london eistedfod in , in which, as one of the adjudicators, i observed that several of the competitors mentioned the prevalent belief, that every well with healing properties must have its outlet towards the south (i'r dê). according to one of them, if you wished to get rid of warts, you should, on your way to the well, look for wool which the sheep had lost. when you had found enough wool you should prick each wart with a pin, and then rub the wart well with the wool. the next thing was to bend the pin and throw it into the well. then you should place the wool on the first whitethorn you could find, and as the wind scattered the wool, the warts would disappear. there was a well of the kind, the writer went on to say, near his home; and he, with three or four other boys, went from school one day to the well to charm their warts away. for he had twenty-three on one of his hands; so that he always tried to hide it, as it was the belief that if one counted the warts they would double their number. he forgets what became of the other boys' warts, but his own disappeared soon afterwards; and his grandfather used to maintain that it was owing to the virtue of the well. such were the words of this writer, whose name is unknown to me; but i guess him to have been a native of carnarvonshire, or else of one of the neighbouring districts of denbighshire or merionethshire. to return to myrdin fard, he mentioned ffynnon cefn lleithfan, or the well of the lleithfan ridge, on the eastern slope of mynyd y rhiw, in the parish of bryncroes, in the west of lleyn. in the case of this well it is necessary, when going to it and coming from it, to be careful not to utter a word to anybody, or to turn to look back. what one has to do at the well is to bathe the warts with a rag or clout which has grease on it. when that is done, the clout with the grease has to be carefully concealed beneath the stone at the mouth of the well. this brings to my mind the fact that i noticed more than once, years ago, rags underneath stones in the water flowing from wells in wales, and sometimes thrust into holes in the walls of wells, but i had no notion how they came there. on the subject of pin-wells i had in , from mr. t. e. morris, of portmadoc, barrister-at-law, some account of ffynnon faglan, or baglan's well, in the parish of llanfaglan, near carnarvon. the well is situated in an open field to the right of the road leading towards the church, and close to it. the church and churchyard form an enclosure in the middle of the same field, and the former has in its wall the old stone reading fili lovernii anatemori. my friend derived information from mrs. roberts, of cefn y coed, near carnarvon, as follows:--'the old people who would be likely to know anything about ffynnon faglan have all died. the two oldest inhabitants, who have always lived in this parish of llanfaglan, remember the well being used for healing purposes. one told me his mother used to take him to it, when he was a child, for sore eyes, bathe them with the water, and then drop in a pin. the other man, when he was young, bathed in it for rheumatism; and until quite lately people used to fetch away the water for medicinal purposes. the latter, who lives near the well, at tan y graig, said that he remembered it being cleaned out about fifty years ago, when two basinfuls of pins were taken out, but no coin of any kind. the pins were all bent, and i conclude the intention was to exorcise the evil spirit supposed to afflict the person who dropped them in, or, as the welsh say, dadwitsio. no doubt some ominous words were also used. the well is at present nearly dry, the field where it lies having been drained some years ago, and the water in consequence withdrawn from it. it was much used for the cure of warts. the wart was washed, then pricked with a pin, which, after being bent, was thrown into the well. there is a very large and well-known well of the kind at c'lynnog, ffynnon beuno, "st. beuno's well," which was considered to have miraculous healing powers; and even yet, i believe, some people have faith in it. ffynnon faglan is, in its construction, an imitation, on a smaller scale, of st. beuno's well at c'lynnog.' in the cliffs at the west end of lleyn is a wishing-well called ffynnon fair, or st. mary's well, to the left of the site of eglwys fair, and facing ynys enlli, or bardsey. here, to obtain your wish, you have to descend the steps to the well and walk up again to the top with your mouth full of the water; and then you have to go round the ruins of the church once or more times with the water still in your mouth. viewing the position of the well from the sea, i should be disposed to think that the realization of one's wish at that price could not be regarded as altogether cheap. myrdin fard also told me that there used to be a well near criccieth church. it was known as ffynnon y saint, or the saints' well, and it was the custom to throw keys or pins into it on the morning of easter sunday, in order to propitiate st. catherine, who was the patron of the well. i should be glad to know what this exactly meant. lastly, a few of the wells in that part of gwyned may be grouped together and described as oracular. one of these, the big well in the parish of llanbedrog in lleyn, as i learn from myrdin fard, required the devotee to kneel by it and avow his faith in it. when this had been duly done, he might proceed in this wise: to ascertain, for instance, the name of the thief who had stolen from him, he had to throw a bit of bread into the well and name the person whom he suspected. at the name of the thief the bread would sink; so the inquirer went on naming all the persons he could think of until the bit of bread sank, when the thief was identified. how far is one to suppose that we have here traces of the influences of the water ordeal common in the middle ages? another well of the same kind was ffynnon saethon, in llanfihangel bachellaeth parish, also in lleyn. here it was customary, as he had it in writing, for lovers to throw pins (pinnau) into the well; but these pins appear to have been the points of the blackthorn. at any rate, they cannot well have been of any kind of metal, as we are told that, if they sank in the water, one concluded that one's lover was not sincere in his or her love. next may be mentioned a well, bearing the remarkable name of ffynnon gwyned, or the well of gwyned, which is situated near mynyd mawr, in the parish of abererch: it used to be consulted in the following manner:--when it was desired to discover whether an ailing person would recover, a garment of his would be thrown into the well, and according to the side on which it sank it was known whether he would live or die. ffynnon gybi, or st. cybi's well, in the parish of llangybi, was the scene of a somewhat similar practice; for there, girls who wished to know their lovers' intentions would spread their pocket-handkerchiefs on the water of the well, and, if the water pushed the handkerchiefs to the south--in welsh i'r dê--they knew that everything was right--in welsh o dê--and that their lovers were honest and honourable in their intentions; but, if the water shifted the handkerchiefs northwards, they concluded the contrary. a reference to this is made by a modern welsh poet, as follows:-- ambell dyn, gwaeldyn, a gyrch i bant gorís moel bentyrch, mewn gobaith mai hen gybi glodfawr syd yn llwydaw'r lli. some folks, worthless [ ] folks, visit a hollow below moel bentyrch, in hopes that ancient kybi of noble fame blesses the flood. the spot is not far from where myrdin fard lives; and he mentioned, that adjoining the well is a building which was probably intended for the person in charge of the well: it has been tenanted within his memory. not only for this but also for several of the foregoing items of information am i indebted to myrdin; and now i come to mrs. williams-ellis, of glasfryn uchaf, who tells me that one day not long ago, she met at llangybi a native who had not visited the place since his boyhood: he had been away as an engineer in south wales nearly all his life, but had returned to see an aged relative. so the reminiscences of the place filled his mind, and, among other things, he said that he remembered very well what concern there was one day in the village at a mischievous person having taken a very large eel out of the well. many of the old people, he said, felt that much of the virtue of the well was probably taken away with the eel. to see it coiling about their limbs when they went into the water was a good sign: so he gave one to understand. as a sort of parallel i may mention that i have seen the fish living in ffynnon beris, not far from the parish church of llanberis. it is jealously guarded by the inhabitants, and when it was once or twice taken out by a mischievous stranger he was forced to put it back again. however, i never could get the history of this sacred fish, but i found that it was regarded as very old [ ]. i may add that it appears the well called ffynnon fair, 'mary's well,' at llandwyn, in anglesey, used formerly to have inhabiting it a sacred fish, whose movements indicated the fortunes of the love-sick men and maidens who visited there the shrine of st. dwynwen [ ]. possibly inquiry would result in showing that such sacred fish have been far more common once in the principality than they are now. the next class of wells to claim our attention consists of what i may call fairy wells, of which few are mentioned in connexion with wales; but the legends about them are of absorbing interest. one of them is in myrdin fard's neighbourhood, and i questioned him a good deal on the subject: it is called ffynnon grassi, or grace's well, and it occupies, according to him, a few square feet--he has measured it himself--of the south-east corner of the lake of glasfryn uchaf, in the parish of llangybi. it appears that it was walled in, and that the stone forming its eastern side has several holes in it, which were intended to let water enter the well and not issue from it. it had a door or cover on its surface; and it was necessary to keep the door always shut, except when water was being drawn. through somebody's negligence, however, it was once on a time left open: the consequence was that the water of the well flowed out and formed the glasfryn lake, which is so considerable as to be navigable for small boats. grassi is supposed in the locality to have been the name of the owner of the well, or at any rate of a lady who had something to do with it. grassi, or grace, however, can only be a name which a modern version of the legend has introduced. it probably stands for an older name given to the person in charge of the well; to the one, in fact, who neglected to shut the door; but though the name must be comparatively modern, the story, as a whole, does not appear to be at all modern, but very decidedly the contrary. so i wrote in ; but years after my conversation with myrdin fard, my attention was called to the fact that the glasfryn family, of which the rev. j. c. williams-ellis is the head, have in their coat of arms a mermaid, who is represented in the usual way, holding a comb in her right hand and a mirror in her left. i had from the first expected to find some kind of undine or liban story associated with the well and the lake, though i had abstained from trying the risky effects of leading questions; but when i heard of the heraldic mermaid i wrote to mr. williams-ellis to ask whether he knew her history. his words, though not encouraging as regards the mermaid, soon convinced me that i had not been wholly wrong in supposing that more folklore attached to the well and lake than i had been able to discover. since then mrs. williams-ellis has taken the trouble of collecting on the spot all the items of tradition which she could find: she communicated them to me in the month of march, , and the following is an abstract of them, preceded by a brief description of the ground:-- the well itself is at the foot of a very green field-bank at the head of the lake, but not on the same level with it, as the lake has had its waters lowered half a century or more ago by the outlet having been cut deeper. adjoining the field containing the well is a larger field, which also slopes down to the lake and extends in another direction to the grounds belonging to the house. this larger field is called cae'r ladi, 'the lady's field,' and it is remarkable for having in its centre an ancient standing stone, which, as seen from the windows of the house, presents the appearance of a female figure hurrying along, with the wind slightly swelling out her veil and the skirt of her dress. mr. williams-ellis remembers how when he was a boy the stone was partially white-washed, and how an old bonnet adorned the top of this would-be statue, and he thinks that an old shawl used to be thrown over the shoulders. now as to grassi, she is mostly regarded as a ghostly person somehow connected with the lake and the house of glasfryn. one story is to the effect, that on a certain evening she forgot to close the well, and that when the gushing waters had formed the lake, poor grassi, overcome with remorse, wandered up and down the high ground of cae'r ladi, moaning and weeping. there, in fact, she is still at times to be heard lamenting her fate, especially at two o'clock in the early morning. some people say that she is also to be seen about the lake, which is now the haunt of some half a dozen swans. but on the whole her visits appear to have been most frequent and troublesome at the house itself. several persons still living are mentioned, who believe that they have seen her there, and two of them, mrs. jones of talafon, and old sydney griffith of tydyn bach, agree in the main in their description of what they saw, namely, a tall lady with well marked features and large bright eyes: she was dressed in white silk and a white velvet bonnet. the woman, sydney griffith, thought that she had seen the lady walking several times about the house and in cae'r ladi. this comes, in both instances, from a young lady born and bred in the immediate neighbourhood, and studying now at the university college of north wales; but mrs. williams-ellis has had similar accounts from other sources, and she mentions tenants of glasfryn who found it difficult to keep servants there, because they felt that the place was haunted. in fact one of the tenants himself felt so unsafe that he used to take his gun and his dog with him to his bedroom at night; not to mention that when the williams-ellises lived themselves, as they do still, in the house, their visitors have been known to declare that they heard the strange plaintive cry out of doors at two o'clock in the morning. traces also of a very different story are reported by mrs. williams-ellis, to the effect that when the water broke forth to form the lake, the fairies seized grassi and changed her into a swan, and that she continued in that form to live on the lake sixscore years, and that when at length she died, she loudly lamented her lot: that cry is still to be heard at night. this story is in process apparently of being rationalized; at any rate the young lady student, to whom i have referred, remembers perfectly that her grandfather used to explain to her and the other children at home that grassi was changed into a swan as a punishment for haunting glasfryn, but that nevertheless the old lady still visited the place, especially when there happened to be strangers in the house. at the end of september last mrs. rhys and i had the pleasure of spending a few days at glasfryn, in the hope of hearing the plaintive wail, and of seeing the lady in white silk revisiting her familiar haunts. but alas! our sleep was never once disturbed, nor was our peace once troubled by suspicions of anything uncanny. this, however, is negative, and characterized by the usual weakness of all such evidence. it is now time to turn to another order of facts: in the first place may be mentioned that the young lady student's grandmother used to call the well ffynnon grâs siôn gruffud, as she had always heard that grâs was the daughter of a certain siôn gruffyd, 'john griffith,' who lived near the well; and mrs. williams-ellis finds that grâs was buried, at a very advanced age, on december , , at the parish church of llangybi, where the register describes her as grace jones, alias grace jones griffith. she had lived till the end at glasfryn, but from documents in the possession of the glasfryn family it is known that in hugh lloyd of trallwyn purchased the house and estate of glasfryn from a son of grace's, named john ab cadwaladr, and that hugh lloyd of trallwyn's son, the rev. william lloyd, sold them to archdeacon ellis, from whom they have descended to the rev. j. c. williams-ellis. in the light of these facts there is no reason to connect the old lady's name very closely with the well or the lake. she was once the dominant figure at glasfryn, that is all; and when she died she was as usual supposed to haunt the house and its immediate surroundings; and if we might venture to suppose that glasfryn was sold by her son against her will, though subject to conditions which enabled her to remain in possession of the place to the day of her death, we should have a further explanation, perhaps, of her supposed moaning and lamentation. in the background, however, of the story, one detects the possibility of another female figure, for it may be that the standing stone in cae'r ladi represents a woman buried there centuries before grace ruled at glasfryn, and that traditions about the earlier lady have survived to be inextricably mixed with those concerning the later one. lastly, those traditions may have also associated the subject of them with the well and the lake; but i wish to attach no importance to this conjecture, as we have in reserve a third figure of larger possibilities than either grace or the stone woman. it needs no better introduction than mrs. williams-ellis' own words: 'our younger boys have a crew of three little welsh boys who live near the lake, to join them in their boat sailing about the pool and in camping on the island, &c. they asked me once who morgan was, whom the little boys were always saying they were to be careful against. an old man living at tal llyn, "lake's end," a farm close by, says that as a boy he was always told that "naughty boys would be carried off by morgan into the lake." others tell me that morgan is always held to be ready to take off troublesome children, and somehow morgan is thought of as a bad one.' now as morgan carries children off into the pool, he would seem to issue from the pool, and to have his home in it. further, he plays the same part as the fairies against whom a snowdonian mother used to warn her children: they were on no account to wander away from the house when there was a mist, lest the fairies should carry them to their home beneath llyn dwythwch. in other words, morgan may be said to act in the same way as the mermaid, who takes a sailor down to her submarine home; and it explains to my mind a discussion which i once heard of the name morgan by a party of men and women making hay one fine summer's day in the neighbourhood of ponterwyd, in north cardiganshire. i was a child, but i remember vividly how they teased one of their number whose 'style' was morgan. they hinted at dreadful things associated with the name; but it was all so vague that i could not gather that his great unknown namesake was a thief, a murderer, or any kind of ordinary criminal. the impression left on my mind was rather the notion of something weird, uncanny, or non-human; and the fact that the welsh version of the book of common prayer calls the pelagians morganiaid, 'morgans,' does not offer an adequate explanation. but i now see clearly that it is to be sought in the indistinct echo of such folklore as that which makes morgan a terror to children in the neighbourhood of the glasfryn lake. the name, however, presents points of difficulty which require some notice: the welsh translators of article ix in the prayer book were probably wrong in making pelagians into morganiaid, as the welsh for pelagius seems to have been rather morien [ ], which in its oldest recorded form was morgen, and meant sea-born, or offspring of the sea. in a still earlier form it must have been morigenos, with a feminine morigena, but when the endings came to be dropped both vocables would become morgen, later morien. i do not remember coming across a feminine morgen in welsh, but the presumption is that it did exist. for, among other things, i may mention that we have it in irish as muirgen, one of the names of the lake lady liban, who, when the waters of the neglected well rushed forth to form lough neagh, lived beneath that lake until she desired to be changed into a salmon. the same conclusion may be drawn from the name morgain or morgan, given in the french romances to one or more water ladies; for those names are easiest to explain as the brythonic morgen borrowed from a welsh or breton source, unless one found it possible to trace it direct to the goidels of wales. no sooner, however, had the confusion taken place between morgen and the name which is so common in wales as exclusively a man's name, than the aquatic figure must also become male. that is why the glasfryn morgan is now a male, and not a female like the other characters whose rôle he plays. but while the name was in welsh successively morgen and morien, the man's name was morcant, morgant, or morgan [ ], so that, phonologically speaking, no confusion could be regarded as possible between the two series. here, therefore, one detects the influence, doubtless, of the french romances which spoke of a lake lady morgain, morgan, or morgue. the character varied: morgain le fay was a designing and wicked person; but morgan was also the name of a well disposed lady of the same fairy kind, who took arthur away to be healed at her home in the isle of avallon. we seem to be on the track of the same confusing influence of the name, when it occurs in the story of geraint and enid; for there the chief physician of arthur's court is called morgan tut or morgant tut, and the word tut has been shown by m. loth to have meant the same sort of non-human being whom an eleventh-century life of st. maudez mentions as quidam dæmon quem britones tuthe appellant. thus the name morgan tut is meant as the welsh equivalent of the french morgain le fay or morgan la fée [ ]; but so long as the compiler of the story of geraint and enid employed in his welsh the form morgan, he had practically no choice but to treat the person called morgan as a man, whether that was or was not the sex in the original texts on which he was drawing. of course he could have avoided the difficulty in case he was aware of it, if he had found some available formula in use like mary-morgant, said to be a common name for a fairy on the island of ouessant, off the coast of brittany. summarizing the foregoing notes, we seem to be right in drawing the following conclusions:--( ) the well was left in the charge of a woman who forgot to shut it, and when she saw the water bursting forth, she bewailed her negligence, as in the case of her counterpart in the legend of cantre'r gwaelod. ( ) the original name of the glasfryn 'morgan' was morgen, later morien. ( ) the person changed into a swan on the occasion of the glasfryn well erupting was not grassi, but most probably morgen. and ( ) the character was originally feminine, like that of the mermaid or the fairies, whose rôle the glasfryn morgan plays; and more especially may one compare the irish muirgen, the morgen more usually called líban. for it is to be noticed that when the neglected well burst forth she, muirgen or líban, was not drowned like the others involved in the calamity, but lived in her chamber at the bottom of the lake formed by the overflowing well, until she was changed into a salmon. in that form she lived on some three centuries, until in fact she was caught in the net of a fisherman, and obtained the boon of a christian burial. however, the change into a swan is also known on irish ground: take for instance the story of the children of lir, who were converted into swans by their stepmother, and lived in that form on loch dairbhreach, in westmeath, for three hundred years, and twice as long on the open sea, until their destiny closed with the advent of st. patrick and the first ringing of a christian bell in erin [ ]. the next legend was kindly communicated to me by mr. wm. davies already mentioned at p. above: he found it in cyfaill yr aelwyd [ ], "the friend of the hearth," where it is stated that it belonged to david jones' storehouse of curiosities, a collection which does not seem to have ever assumed the form of a printed book. david jones, of trefriw, in the conwy valley, was a publisher and poet who wrote between and . this is his story: 'in i had a conversation with a man concerning tegid lake. he had heard from old people that near the middle of it there was a well opposite llangower, and the well was called ffynnon gywer, "cower's well," and at that time the town was round about the well. it was obligatory to place a lid on the well every night. (it seems that in those days somebody was aware that unless this was done it would prove the destruction of the town.) but one night it was forgotten, and by the morning, behold the town had subsided and the lake became three miles long and one mile wide. they say, moreover, that on clear days some people see the chimneys of the houses. it is since then that the town was built at the lower end of the lake. it is called y bala [ ], and the man told me that he had talked with an old bala man who had, when he was a youth, had two days' mowing of hay [ ] between the road and the lake; but by this time the lake had spread over that land and the road also, which necessitated the purchase of land further away for the road; and some say that the town will yet sink as far as the place called llanfor--others call it llanfawd, "drown-church," or llanfawr, "great-church," in penllyn.... further, when the weather is stormy water appears oozing through every floor within bala, and at other times anybody can get water enough for the use of his house, provided he dig a little into the floor of it.' in reference to the idea that the town is to sink, together with the neighbouring village of llanfor, the writer quotes in a note the couplet known still to everybody in the neighbourhood as follows:-- y bala aeth, a'r bala aiff, a llanfor aiff yn llyn. bala old the lake has had, and bala new the lake will have, and llanfor too. this probably implies that old bala is beneath the lake, and that the present bala is to meet the like fate at some time to come. this kind of prophecy is not very uncommon: thus there has been one current as to the montgomeryshire town of pool, called, in welsh, trallwng or trallwm, and in english, welshpool, to distinguish it from the english town of pool. as to welshpool, a very deep water called llyn du, lying between the town and the castell coch or powys castle, and right in the domain of the castle, is suddenly to spread itself, and one fine market day to engulf the whole place [ ]. further, when i was a boy in north cardiganshire, the following couplet was quite familiar to me, and supposed to have been one of merlin's prophecies:-- caer fyrdin, cei oer fore; daear a'th lwnc, dw'r i'th le. carmarthen, a cold morn awaits thee; earth gapes, and water in thy place will be. in regard to the earlier half of the line, concerning bala gone, the story of ffynnon gywer might be said to explain it, but there is another which is later and far better known. it is of the same kind as the stories related in welsh concerning llynclys and syfadon; but i reserve it with these and others of the same sort for chapter vii. for the next legend belonging here i have to thank the rev. j. fisher, a native of the parish of llandybïe, who, in spite of his name, is a genuine welshman, and--what is more--a welsh scholar. the following are his words:--'llyn llech owen (the last word is locally sounded w-en, like oo-en in english, as is also the personal name owen) is on mynyd mawr, in the ecclesiastical parish of gors lâs, and the civil parish of llanarthney, carmarthenshire. it is a small lake, forming the source of the gwendraeth fawr. i have heard the tradition about its origin told by several persons, and by all, until quite recently, pretty much in the same form. in i took it down from my grandfather, rees thomas (b. , d. ), of cil coll llandebïe--a very intelligent man, with a good fund of old-world welsh lore--who had lived all his life in the neighbouring parishes of llandeilo fawr and llandybïe. 'the following is the version of the story (translated) as i had it from him:--there was once a man of the name of owen living on mynyd mawr, and he had a well, "ffynnon." over this well he kept a large flag ("fflagen neu lech fawr": "fflagen" is the word in common use now in these parts for a large flat stone), which he was always careful to replace over its mouth after he had satisfied himself or his beast with water. it happened, however, that one day he went on horseback to the well to water his horse, and forgot to put the flag back in its place. he rode off leisurely in the direction of his home; but, after he had gone some distance, he casually looked back, and, to his great astonishment, he saw that the well had burst out and was overflowing the whole place. he suddenly bethought him that he should ride back and encompass the overflow of the water as fast as he could; and it was the horse's track in galloping round the water that put a stop to its further overflow. it is fully believed that, had he not galloped round the flood in the way he did, the well would have been sure to inundate the whole district and drown all. hence the lake was called the lake of owen's flag, "llyn llech owen." 'i have always felt interested in this story, as it resembled that about the formation of lough neagh, &c.; and, happening to meet the rev. d. harwood hughes, b.a., the vicar of gors lâs (st. lleian's), last august ( ), i asked him to tell me the legend as he had heard it in his parish. he said that he had been told it, but in a form different from mine, where the "owen" was said to have been owen glyndwr. this is the substance of the legend as he had heard it:--owen glyndwr, when once passing through these parts, arrived here of an evening. he came across a well, and, having watered his horse, placed a stone over it in order to find it again next morning. he then went to lodge for the night at dyllgoed farm, close by. in the morning, before proceeding on his journey, he took his horse to the well to give him water, but found to his surprise that the well had become a lake.' mr. fisher goes on to mention the later history of the lake: how, some eighty years ago, its banks were the resort on sunday afternoons of the young people of the neighbourhood, and how a baptist preacher put an end to their amusements and various kinds of games by preaching at them. however, the lake-side appears to be still a favourite spot for picnics and sunday-school gatherings. mr. fisher was quite right in appending to his own version that of his friend; but, from the point of view of folklore, i must confess that i can make nothing of the latter: it differs from the older one as much as chalk does from cheese. it would be naturally gratifying to the pride of local topography to be able to connect with the pool the name of owen glyndwr; but it is worthy of note that this highly respectable attempt to rationalize the legend wholly fails, as it does not explain why there is now a lake where there was once but a well. in other words, the euhemerized story is itself evidence corroborative of mr. fisher's older version, which is furthermore kept in countenance by howells' account, p. , where we are told who the owen in question was, namely, owen lawgoch, a personage dear, as we shall see later, to the welsh legend of the district. he and his men had their abode in a cave on the northern side of mynyd mawr, and while there owen used, we are informed, to water his steed at a fine spring covered with a large stone, which it required the strength of a giant to lift. but one day he forgot to replace it, and when he next sought the well he found the lake. he returned to his cave and told his men what had happened. thereupon both he and they fell into a sleep, which is to last till it is broken by the sound of a trumpet and the clang of arms on rhiw goch: then they are to sally forth to conquer. now the story as told by howells and fisher provokes comparison, as the latter suggests, with the irish legend of the formation of lough ree and of lough neagh in the story of the death of eochaid mcmaireda [ ]. in both of these legends also there is a horse, a kind of water-horse, who forms the well which eventually overflows and becomes lough ree, and so with the still larger body of water known as lough neagh. in the latter case the fairy well was placed in the charge of a woman; but she one day left the cover of the well open, and the catastrophe took place--the water issued forth and overflowed the country. one of eochaid's daughters, named líban, however, was not drowned, but only changed into a salmon as already mentioned at p. above. in my arthurian legend, p. , i have attempted to show that the name líban may have its welsh equivalent in that of llïon, occurring in the name of llyn llïon, or llïon's lake, the bursting of which is described in the latest series of triads, iii. , , as causing a sort of deluge. i am not certain as to the nature of the relationship between those names, but it seems evident that the stories have a common substratum, though it is to be noticed that no well, fairy or otherwise, figures in the llyn llïon legend, which makes the presence of the monster called the afanc the cause of the waters bursting forth. so hu the mighty, with his team of famous oxen, is made to drag the afanc out of the lake. there is, however, another welsh legend concerning a great overflow in which a well does figure: i allude to that of cantre'r gwaelod, or the bottom hundred, a fine spacious country supposed to be submerged in cardigan bay. modern euhemerism treats it as defended by embankments and sluices, which, we are told, were in the charge of the prince of the country, named seithennin, who, being one day in his cups, forgot to shut the sluices, and thus brought about the inundation, which was the end of his fertile realm. this, however, is not the old legend: that speaks of a well, and lays the blame on a woman--a pretty sure sign of antiquity, as the reader may judge from other old stories which will readily occur to him. the welsh legend to which i allude is embodied in a short poem in the black book of carmarthen [ ]: it consists of eight triplets, to which is added a triplet from the englynion of the graves. the following is the original with a tentative translation:-- seithenhin sawde allan. ac edrychuirde varanres mor. maes guitnev rytoes. boed emendiceid y morvin aehellygaut guydi cvin. finaun wenestir [ ] mor terruin. boed emendiceid y vachteith. ae . golligaut guydi gueith. finaun wenestir mor diffeith. diaspad mererid y ar vann caer. hid ar duu y dodir. gnaud guydi traha trangc hir. diaspad mererid . y ar van kaer hetiv. hid ar duu y dadoluch. gnaud guydi traha attreguch. diaspad mererid am gorchuit heno. ac nimhaut gorlluit. gnaud guydi traha tramguit. diaspad mererid y ar gwinev kadir kedaul duv ae gorev. gnaud guydi gormot eissev. diaspad mererid . am kymhell heno y urth uyistauell. gnaud guydi traha trangc pell. bet seithenhin synhuir vann rug kaer kenedir a glan. mor maurhidic a kinran. seithennin, stand thou forth and see the vanguard of the main: gwydno's plain has it covered. accursed be the maiden who let it loose after supping, well cup-bearer of the mighty main. accursed be the damsel who let it loose after battle, well minister of the high sea. mererid's cry from a city's height, even to god is it directed: after pride comes a long pause. mererid's cry from a city's height to-day, even to god her expiation: after pride comes reflection. mererid's cry o'ercomes me to-night, nor can i readily prosper: after pride comes a fall. mererid's cry over strong wines, bounteous god has wrought it: after excess comes privation. mererid's cry drives me to-night from my chamber away: after insolence comes long death. weak-witted seithennin's grave is it between kenedyr's fort and the shore, with majestic mor's and kynran's. the names in these lines present great difficulties: first comes that of mererid, which is no other word than margarita, 'a pearl,' borrowed; but what does it here mean? margarita, besides meaning a pearl, was used in welsh, e.g. under the form marereda [ ], as the proper name written in english margaret. that is probably how it is to be taken here, namely, as the name given to the negligent guardian of the fairy well. it cannot very well be, however, the name belonging to the original form of the legend; and we have the somewhat parallel case of ffynnon grassi, or grace's well; but what old celtic name that of mererid has replaced in the story, i cannot say. in the next place, nobody has been able to identify caer kenedyr, and i have nothing to say as to mor maurhidic, except that a person of that name is mentioned in another of the englynion of the graves. it runs thus in the black book, fol. a:-- bet mor maurhidic diessic unben. post kinhen kinteic. mab peredur penwetic. the grave of mor the grand, ... prince, pillar of the ... conflict, son of peredur of penwedig. the last name in the final triplet of the poem which i have attempted to translate is kinran, which is otherwise unknown as a welsh name; but i am inclined to identify it with that of one of the three who escaped the catastrophe in the irish legend. the name there is curnán, which was borne by the idiot of the family, who, like many later idiots, was at the same time a prophet. for he is represented as always prophesying that the waters were going to burst forth, and as advising his friends to prepare boats. so he may be set, after a fashion, over against our seithenhin synhuir vann, 's. of the feeble mind.' but one might perhaps ask why i do not point out an equivalent in irish for the welsh seithennin, as his name is now pronounced. the fact is that no such equivalent occurs in the irish story in question, nor exactly, so far as i know, in any other. that is what i wrote when penning these notes; but it has occurred to me since then, that there is an irish name, an important irish name, which looks as if related to seithenhin, and that is setanta beg, 'the little setantian,' the first name of the irish hero cúchulainn. the nt, i may point out, makes one suspect that setanta is a name of brythonic origin in irish; and i have been in the habit of associating it with that of the people of the setantii [ ], placed by ptolemy on the coast of what is now lancashire. whether any legend has ever been current about a country submerged on the coast of lancashire i cannot say, but the soundings would make such a legend quite comprehensible. i remember, however, reading somewhere as to the plain of muirthemhne, of which cúchulainn, our setanta beg, had special charge, that it was so called because it had once been submarine and become since the converse, so to say, of seithennin's country. the latter is beneath cardigan bay, while the other fringed the opposite side of the sea, consisting as it did of the level portion of county louth. on the whole, i am not altogether indisposed to believe that we have here traces of an ancient legend of a wider scope than is represented by the black book triplets, which i have essayed to translate. i think that i am right in recognizing that legend in the mabinogi of branwen, daughter of llyr. there we read that, when brân and his men crossed from wales to ireland, the intervening sea consisted merely of two navigable rivers, called lli and archan. the story-teller adds words to the effect, that it is only since then the sea has multiplied its realms [ ] between ireland and ynys y kedyrn, or the isle of the keiri, a name which has already been discussed: see pp. - . these are not all the questions which such stories suggest; for seithennin is represented in later welsh literature as the son of one seithyn, associated with dyfed; and the name seithyn leads off to the coast of brittany. for i learn from a paper by the late m. le men, in the revue archéologique for (xxiii. ), that the Île de sein is called in breton enez-sun, in which sun is a dialectic shortening of sizun, which is also met with as seidhun. that being so, one would seem to be right in regarding sizun as nearly related to our seithyn. that is not all--the tradition reminds one of the welsh legend: m. le men refers to the vie du p. maunoir by boschet (paris, ) p. , and adds that, in his own time, the road ending on the pointe du raz opposite the Île de sein passed 'pour être l'ancien chemin qui conduisait à la ville d'is (kaer-a-is, la ville de la partie basse).' it is my own experience, that nobody can go about much in brittany without hearing over and over again about the submerged city of is. there is no doubt that we have in these names distant echoes of an inundation story, once widely current in both britains and perhaps also in ireland. with regard to wales we have an indication to that effect in the fact, that gwydno, to whom the inundated region is treated as having belonged, is associated not only with cardigan bay, but also with the coast of north wales, especially the part of it situated between bangor and llandudno [ ]. adjoining it is supposed to lie submerged a once fertile district called tyno helig, a legend about which will come under notice later. this brings the inundation story nearer to the coast where ptolemy in the second century located the harbour of the setantii, about the mouth of the river ribble, and in their name we seem to have some sort of a historical basis for that of the drunken seithennin [ ]. i cannot close these remarks better than by appending what professor boyd dawkins has recently said with regard to the sea between britain and ireland:-- 'it may be interesting to remark further that during the time of the iberian dominion in wales, the geography of the seaboard was different to what it is now. a forest, containing the remains of their domestic oxen that had run wild, and of the indigenous wild animals such as the bear and the red deer, united anglesey with the mainland, and occupied the shallows of cardigan bay, known in legend as "the lost lands of wales." it extended southwards from the present sea margin across the estuary of the severn, to somerset, devon, and cornwall. it passed northwards across the irish sea off the coast of cheshire and lancashire, and occupied morecambe bay with a dense growth of oak, scotch fir, alder, birch, and hazel. it ranged seawards beyond the ten-fathom line, and is to be found on most shores beneath the sand-banks and mud-banks, as for example at rhyl and cardiff. in cardigan bay it excited the wonder of giraldus de barri [ ].' to return to fairy wells, i have to confess that i cannot decide what may be precisely the meaning of the notion of a well with a woman set carefully to see that the door or cover of the well is kept shut. it will occur, however, to everybody to compare the well which undine wished to have kept shut, on account of its affording a ready access from her subterranean country to the residence of her refractory knight in his castle above ground. and in the case of the glasfryn lake, the walling and cover that were to keep the spring from overflowing were, according to the story, not water-tight, seeing that there were holes made in one of the stones. this suggests the idea that the cover was to prevent the passage of some such full-grown fairies as those with which legend seems to have once peopled all the pools and tarns of wales. but, in the next place, is the maiden in charge of the well to be regarded as priestess of the well? the idea of a priesthood in connexion with wells in wales is not wholly unknown. i wish, however, before discussing these instances, to call attention to one or two irish ones which point in another direction. foremost may be mentioned the source of the river boyne, which is now called trinity well, situated in the barony of carbury, in county kildare. the following is the rennes dindsenchas concerning it, as translated by dr. stokes, in the revue celtique, xv. - :--'bóand, wife of nechtán son of labraid, went to the secret well which was in the green of síd nechtáin. whoever went to it would not come from it without his two eyes bursting, unless it were nechtán himself and his three cup-bearers, whose names were flesc and lám and luam. once upon a time bóand went through pride to test the well's power, and declared that it had no secret force which could shatter her form, and thrice she walked withershins round the well. (whereupon) three waves from the well break over her and deprive her of a thigh [? wounded her thigh] and one of her hands and one of her eyes. then she, fleeing her shame, turns seaward, with the water behind her as far as boyne-mouth, (where she was drowned).' this is to explain why the river is called bóand, 'boyne.' a version to the same effect in the book of leinster, fol. a, makes the general statement that no one who gazed right into the well could avoid the instant ruin of his two eyes or otherwise escape with impunity. a similar story is related to show how the shannon, in irish sinann, sinand, or sinend, is called after a woman of that name. it occurs in the same rennes manuscript, and the following is stokes' translation in the revue celtique, xv. :--'sinend, daughter of lodan lucharglan son of ler out of tir tairngire (land of promise, fairyland), went to connla's well, which is under sea, to behold it. that is a well at which are the hazels and inspirations (?) of wisdom, that is, the hazels of the science of poetry, and in the same hour their fruit and their blossom and their foliage break forth, and these fall on the well in the same shower, which raises on the water a royal surge of purple. then the salmon chew the fruit, and the juice of the nuts is apparent on their purple bellies. and seven streams of wisdom spring forth and turn there again. now sinend went to seek the inspiration, for she wanted nothing save only wisdom. she went with the stream till she reached linn mna feile, "the pool of the modest woman," that is bri ele--and she went ahead on her journey; but the well left its place, and she followed it [ ] to the banks of the river tarr-cáin, "fair-back." after this it overwhelmed her, so that her back (tarr) went upwards, and when she had come to the land on this side (of the shannon) she tasted death. whence sinann and linn mna feile and tarr-cain.' in these stories the reader will have noticed that the foremost punishment on any intruder who looked into the forbidden well was the instant ruin of his two eyes. one naturally asks why the eyes are made the special objects of the punishment, and i am inclined to think the meaning to have originally been that the well or spring was regarded as the eye of the divinity of the water. should this prove well founded it looks natural that the eyes, which transgressed by gazing into the eye of the divinity, should be the first objects of that divinity's vengeance. this is suggested to me by the fact that the regular welsh word for the source of a river is llygad, old welsh licat, 'eye,' as for instance in the case of licat amir mentioned by nennius, § ; of llygad llychwr, 'the source of the loughor river' in the hills behind carreg cennen castle; and of the weird lake in which the rheidol [ ] rises near the top of plinlimmon: it is called llyn llygad y rheidol, 'the lake of the rheidol's eye.' by the way, the rheidol is not wholly without its folklore, for i used to be told in my childhood, that she and the wye and the severn sallied forth simultaneously from plinlimmon one fine morning to run a race to the sea. the result was, one was told, that the rheidol won great honour by reaching the sea three weeks before her bigger sisters. somebody has alluded to the legend in the following lines:-- tair afon gynt a rifwyd ar dwyfron pumlumon lwyd, hafren a gwy'n hyfryd ei gwed, a'r rheidol fawr ei hanrhyded. three rivers of yore were seen on grey plinlimmon's breast, severn, and wye of pleasant mien, and rheidol rich in great renown. to return to the irish legends, i may mention that eugene o'curry has a good deal to say of the mysterious nuts and 'the salmon of knowledge,' the partaking of which was synonymous with the acquisition of knowledge and wisdom: see his manners and customs of the ancient irish, ii. - . he gives it as his opinion that connla's well was situated somewhere in lower ormond; but the locality of this helicon, with the seven streams of wisdom circulating out of it and back again into it, is more intelligible when regarded as a matter of fairy geography. a portion of the note appended to the foregoing legend by stokes is in point here: he traces the earliest mention of the nine hazels of wisdom, growing at the heads of the chief rivers of ireland, to the dialogue of the two sages in the book of leinster, fol. b, whence he cites the poet néde mac adnai saying whence he had come, as follows:--a caillib .i. a nói collaib na segsa ... a caillib didiu assa mbenaiter clessa na súad tanacsa, 'from hazels, to wit, from the nine hazels of the segais ... from hazels out of which are obtained the feats of the sages, i have come.' the relevancy of this passage will be seen when i add, that segais was one of the names of the mound in which the boyne rises; so it may be safely inferred that bóand's transgression was of the same nature as that of sinand, to wit, that of intruding on sacred ground in quest of wisdom and inspiration which was not permitted their sex: certain sources of knowledge, certain quellen, were reserved for men alone. before i have done with the irish instances i must append one in the form it was told me in the summer of : i was in meath and went to see the remarkable chambered cairns on the hill known as sliabh na caillighe, 'the hag's mountain,' near oldcastle and lough crew. i had as my guide a young shepherd whom i picked up on the way. he knew all about the hag after whom the hill was called except her name: she was, he said, a giantess, and so she brought there, in three apronfuls, the stones forming the three principal cairns. as to the cairn on the hill point known as belrath, that is called the chair cairn from a big stone placed there by the hag to serve as her seat when she wished to have a quiet look on the country round. but usually she was to be seen riding on a wonderful pony she had: that creature was so nimble and strong that it used to take the hag at a leap from one hill-top to another. however, the end of it all was that the hag rode so hard that the pony fell down, and that both horse and rider were killed. the hag appears to have been cailleach bhéara, or caillech bérre, 'the old woman of beare,' that is, bearhaven, in county cork [ ]. now the view from the hag's mountain is very extensive, and i asked the shepherd to point out some places in the distance. among other things we could see lough ramor, which he called the virginia water, and more to the west he identified lough sheelin, about which he had the following legend to tell:--a long, long time ago there was no lake there, but only a well with a flagstone kept over it, and everybody would put the flag back after taking water out of the well. but one day a woman who fetched water from it forgot to replace the stone, and the water burst forth in pursuit of the luckless woman, who fled as hard as she could before the angry flood. she continued until she had run about seven miles--the estimated length of the lake at the present day. now at this point a man, who was busily mowing hay in the field through which she was running, saw what was happening and mowed the woman down with his scythe, whereupon the water advanced no further. such was the shepherd's yarn, which partly agrees with the boyne and shannon stories in that the woman was pursued by the water, which only stopped where she died. on the other hand, it resembles the llyn llech owen legend and that of lough neagh in placing to the woman's charge only the neglect to cover the well. it looks as if we had in these stories a confusion of two different institutions, one being a well of wisdom which no woman durst visit without fatal vengeance overtaking her, and the other a fairy well which was attended to by a woman who was to keep it covered, and who may, perhaps, be regarded as priestess of the spring. if we try to interpret the cantre'r gwaelod story from these two points of view we have to note the following matters:--though it is not said that the moruin, or damsel, had a lid or cover on the well, the word golligaut or helligaut, 'did let run,' implies some such an idea as that of a lid or door; for opening the sluices, in the sense of the later version, seems to me out of the question. in two of the englynion she is cursed for the action implied, and if she was the well minister or well servant, as i take finaun wenestir to mean, we might perhaps regard her as the priestess of that spring. on the other hand, the prevailing note in the other englynion is the traha, 'presumption, arrogance, insolence, pride,' which forms the burden of four out of five of them. this would seem to point to an attitude on the part of the damsel resembling that of bóand or sinand when prying into the secrets of wells which were tabu to them. the seventh englyn alludes to wines, and its burden is gormod, 'too much, excess, extravagance,' whereby the poet seems to lend countenance to some such a later story as that of seithennin's intemperance. lastly, the question of priest or priestess of a sacred well has been alluded to once or twice, and it may be perhaps illustrated on welsh ground by the history of ffynnon eilian, or st. elian's well, which has been mentioned in another context, p. above. of that well we read as follows, s. v. llandrillo, in the third edition of lewis' topographical dictionary of wales:--'fynnon elian, ... even in the present age, is frequently visited by the superstitious, for the purpose of invoking curses upon the heads of those who have grievously offended them, and also of supplicating prosperity to themselves; but the numbers are evidently decreasing. the ceremony is performed by the applicant standing upon a certain spot near the well, whilst the owner of it reads a few passages of the sacred scriptures, and then, taking a small quantity of water, gives it to the former to drink, and throws the residue over his head, which is repeated three times, the party continuing to mutter imprecations in whatever terms his vengeance may dictate.' rice rees, in his essay on the welsh saints (london, ), p. , speaks of st. elian as follows: 'miraculous cures were lately supposed to be performed at his shrine at llanelian, anglesey; and near to the church of llanelian, denbighshire, is a well called ffynnon elian, which is thought by the peasantry of the neighbourhood to be endued with miraculous powers even at present.' foulkes, s. v. elian, in his enwogion cymru, published in liverpool in , expresses the opinion that the visits of the superstitious to the well had ceased for some time. the last person supposed to have had charge of the well was a certain john evans, but some of the most amusing stories of the shrewdness of the caretaker refer to a woman who had charge of the well before evans' time. a series of articles on ffynnon eilian appeared in in a welsh periodical called y nofelyd, printed by mr. aubrey at llanerch y med, in anglesey. the articles in question were afterwards published, i am told, as a shilling book, which i have not seen, and they dealt with the superstition, with the history of john evans, and with his confessions and conversion. i have searched in vain for any account in welsh of the ritual followed at the well. when mrs. silvan evans visited the place, the person in charge of the well was a woman, and peter roberts, in his cambrian popular antiquities, published in london in , alludes to her or a predecessor of hers in the following terms, p. :--'near the well resided some worthless and infamous wretch, who officiated as priestess.' he furthermore gives one to understand that she kept a book in which she registered the name of each evil wisher for a trifling sum of money. when this had been done, a pin was dropped into the well in the name of the victim. this proceeding looks adequate from the magical point of view, though less complicated than the ritual indicated by lewis. this latter writer calls the person who took charge of the well the owner; and i have always understood that, whether owner or not, he or she used to receive gifts, not only for placing in the well the names of men who were to be cursed, but also from those men for taking their names out again, so as to relieve them from the malediction. in fact, the trade in curses seems to have been a very thriving one: its influence was powerful and widespread. here there is, i think, very little doubt that the owner or guardian of the well was, so to say, the representative of an ancient priesthood of the well. that priesthood dated its origin probably many centuries before a christian church was built near the well, and coming down to later times we have unfortunately no sufficient data to show how the right to such priesthood was acquired, whether by inheritance or otherwise; but we know that a woman might have charge of st. elian's well. let me cite another instance, which i unexpectedly discovered some years ago in the course of a ramble in quest of early inscriptions. among other places which i visited was llandeilo llwydarth, near maen clochog, in the northern part of pembrokeshire. this is one of the many churches bearing the name of st. teilo in south wales: the building is in ruins, but the churchyard is still used, and contains two of the most ancient post-roman inscriptions in the principality. if you ask now for 'llandeilo' in this district, you will be understood to be inquiring after the farm house of that name, close to the old church; and i learnt from the landlady that her family had been there for many generations, though they have not very long been the proprietors of the land. she also told me of st. teilo's well, a little above the house: she added that it was considered to have the property of curing the whooping-cough. i asked if there was any rite or ceremony necessary to be performed in order to derive benefit from the water. certainly, i was told: the water must be lifted out of the well and given to the patient to drink by some member of the family. to be more accurate, i ought to say that this must be done by somebody born in the house. her eldest son, however, had told me previously, when i was busy with the inscriptions, that the water must be given to the patient by the heir, not by anybody else. then came my question how the water was lifted, or out of what the patient had to drink, to which i was answered that it was out of the skull. 'what skull?' said i. 'st. teilo's skull,' was the answer. 'where do you get the saint's skull?' i asked. 'here it is,' was the answer, and i was given it to handle and examine. i know next to nothing about skulls; but it struck me that it was the upper portion of a thick, strong skull, and it called to my mind the story of the three churches which contended for the saint's corpse. that story will be found in the book of llan dâv, pp. - , and according to it the contest became so keen that it had to be settled by prayer and fasting. so, in the morning, lo and behold! there were three corpses of st. teilo--not simply one--and so like were they in features and stature that nobody could tell which were the corpses made to order and which the old one. i should have guessed that the skull which i saw belonged to the former description, as not having been much thinned by the owner's use of it; but this i am forbidden to do by the fact that, according to the legend, this particular llandeilo was not one of the three contending churches which bore away in triumph a dead teilo each. the reader, perhaps, would like to take another view, namely, that the story has been edited in such a way as to reduce a larger number of teilos to three, in order to gratify the welsh weakness for triads. since my visit to the neighbourhood i have been favoured with an account of the well as it is now current there. my informant is mr. benjamin gibby of llangolman mill, who writes mentioning, among other things, that the people around call the well ffynnon yr ychen, or the oxen's well, and that the family owning and occupying the farm house of llandeilo have been there for centuries. their name, which is melchior (pronounced melshor), is by no means a common one in the principality, so far as i know; but, whatever may be its history in wales, the bearers of it are excellent kymry. mr. gibby informs me that the current story solves the difficulty as to the saint's skull as follows:--the saint had a favourite maid servant from the pembrokeshire llandeilo: she was a beautiful woman, and had the privilege of attending on the saint when he was on his death-bed. as his end was approaching he gave his maid a strict and solemn command that in a year's time from the day of his burial at llandeilo fawr, in carmarthenshire, she was to take his skull to the other llandeilo, and to leave it there to be a blessing to coming generations of men, who, when ailing, would have their health restored by drinking water out of it. so the belief prevailed that to drink out of the skull some of the water of teilo's well ensured health, especially against the whooping-cough. the faith of some of those who used to visit the well was so great in its efficacy, that they were wont to leave it, he says, with their constitutions wonderfully improved; and he mentions a story related to him by an old neighbour, stifyn ifan, who has been dead for some years, to the effect that a carriage, drawn by four horses, came once, more than half a century ago, to llandeilo. it was full of invalids coming from pen clawd, in gower, glamorganshire, to try the water of the well. they returned, however, no better than they came; for though they had drunk of the well, they had neglected to do so out of the skull. this was afterwards pointed out to them by somebody, and they resolved to make the long journey to the well again. this time they did the right thing, we are told, and departed in excellent health. such are the contents of mr. gibby's welsh letter; and i would now only point out that we have here an instance of a well which was probably sacred before the time of st. teilo: in fact, one would possibly be right in supposing that the sanctity of the well and its immediate surroundings was one of the causes why the site was chosen by a christian missionary. but consider for a moment what has happened: the well paganism has annexed the saint, and established a belief ascribing to him the skull used in the well ritual. the landlady and her family, it is true, neither believe in the efficacy of the well, nor take gifts from those who visit the well; but they continue, out of kindness, as they put it, to hand the skull full of water to any one who perseveres in believing in it. in other words, the faith in the well continues in a measure intact, while the walls of the church have long fallen into utter decay. such is the great persistence of some primitive beliefs; and in this particular instance we have a succession which seems to point unmistakably to an ancient priesthood of a sacred spring. notes [ ] as to the spelling of welsh names, it may be pointed out for the benefit of english readers that welsh f has the sound of english v, while the sound of english f is written ff (and ph) in welsh, and however strange it may seem to them that the written f should be sounded v, it is borrowed from an old english alphabet which did so likewise more or less systematically. th in such english words as thin and breath is written th, but the soft sound as in this and breathe is usually printed in welsh dd and written in modern welsh manuscript sometimes like a small greek delta: this will be found represented by d in the welsh extracts edited by me in this volume.--j. r. [ ] 'blaensawde, or the upper end of the river sawde, is situate about three-quarters of a mile south-east from the village of llandeusant. it gives its name to one of the hamlets of that parish. the sawde has its source in llyn y fan fach, which is nearly two miles distant from blaensawde house.' [ ] the rendering might be more correctly given thus: 'o thou of the crimped bread, it is not easy to catch me.'--j. r. [ ] 'mydfai parish was, in former times, celebrated for its fair maidens, but whether they were descendants of the lady of the lake or otherwise cannot be determined. an old pennill records the fact of their beauty thus:-- mae eira gwyn ar ben y bryn, a'r glasgoed yn y ferdre, mae bedw mân ynghoed cwm-brân, a merched glân yn mydfe. which may be translated, there is white snow on the mountain's brow, and greenwood at the verdre, young birch so good in cwm-brân wood, and lovely girls in mydfe.' [ ] similarly this should be rendered: 'o thou of the moist bread, i will not have thee.'--j. r. [ ] in the best demetian welsh this word would be hwedel, and in the gwentian of glamorgan it is gwedel, mutated wedel, as may be heard in the neighbourhood of bridgend.--j. r. [ ] this is not generally accepted, as some welsh antiquarians find reasons to believe that dafyd ap gwilym was buried at strata florida.--j. r. [ ] this is not quite correct, as i believe that dr. c. rice williams, who lives at aberystwyth, is one of the medygon. that means the year , when this chapter was written, excepting the portions concerning which the reader is apprised of a later date.--j. r. [ ] later it will be seen that the triban in the above form was meant for neither of the two lakes, though it would seem to have adapted itself to several. in the case of the fan fach lake the town meant must have been carmarthen, and the couplet probably ran thus: os na cha'i lonyd yn ym lle, fi foda dre' garfyrdin. [ ] llwch is the goidelic word loch borrowed, and llyn cwm y llwch literally means the lake of the loch dingle. [ ] i make no attempt to translate these lines, but i find that mr. llewellyn williams has found a still more obscure version of them, as follows:-- prw med, prw med, prw'r gwartheg i dre', prw milfach a malfach, pedair llualfach, llualfach ac acli, pedair lafi, lafi a chromwen, pedair nepwen, nepwen drwynog, brech yn llyn a gwaun dodyn, tair bryncethin, tair cyffredin, tair caseg du, draw yn yr eithin; dewch i gyd i lys y brenin. [ ] the ty-fry is a house said to be some years old, and situated about two miles from rhonda fechan: more exactly it is about one-fourth of a mile from the station of ystrad rhonda, and stands at the foot of mynyd yr eglwys on the treorky side. it is now surrounded by the cottages of colliers, one of whom occupies it. for this information i have to thank mr. probert evans. [ ] it is to be borne in mind that the sound of h is uncertain in glamorgan pronunciation, whether the language used is welsh or english. the pronunciation indicated, however, by mr. evans comes near enough to the authentic form written elfarch. [ ] in the snowdon district of gwyned the call is drwi, drwi, drw-i bach, while in north cardiganshire it is trwi, trwi, trw-e fach, also pronounced sometimes with a surd r, produced by making the breath cause both lips to vibrate--tr'wi, tr'wi, which can hardly be distinguished from pr'wi, pr'wi. for the more forcibly the lips are vibrated the more difficult it becomes to start by closing them to pronounce p: so the tendency with r' is to make the preceding consonant into some kind of a t. [ ] this is the welsh form of the borrowed name jane, and its pronunciation in north cardiganshire is siân, with si pronounced approximately like the ti of such french words as nation and the like; but of late years i find the si made into english sh under the influence, probably, to some extent of the english taught at school. this happens in north wales, even in districts where there are still plenty of people who cannot approach the english words fish and shilling nearer than fiss and silling. siôn and siân represent an old importation of english john and jane, but they are now considered old-fashioned and superseded by john and jane, which i learned to pronounce dsiòn and dsiên, except that siôn survives as a family name, written shone, in the neighbourhood of wrexham. [ ] this term dafad (or dafaden), 'a sheep,' also used for 'a wart,' and dafad (or dafaden) wyllt, literally 'a wild sheep,' for cancer or epithelioma, raises a question which i am quite unable to answer: why should a wart have been likened to a sheep? [ ] the name is probably a shortening of cawellyn, and that perhaps of cawell-lyn, 'creel or basket lake.' its old name is said to have been llyn tardenni. [ ] tyn is a shortening of tydyn, which is not quite forgotten in the case of tyn gadlas or tyn siarlas (for tydyn siarlys), 'charles' tenement,' in the immediate neighbourhood. similarly the anglesey farm of tyn yr onnen used at one time to be tydyn yr onnen in the books of jesus college, oxford, to which it belongs. [ ] that is the pronunciation which i have learnt at llanberis, but there is another, which i have also heard, namely derwenyd. [ ] ystrad is the welsh corresponding to scotch strath, and it is nearly related to the english word strand. it means the flat land near a river. [ ] betws (or bettws) garmon seems to mean germanus's bede-hus or house of prayer, but garmon can hardly have come down in welsh from the time of the famous saint in the fifth century, as it would then have probably yielded gerfon and not garmon: it looks as if it had come through the goidelic of this country. [ ] one of the rare merits of our welsh bards is their habit of assuming permanent noms de plume, by means of which they prevent a number of excellent native names from falling into utter oblivion in the general chaos of anglo-hebrew ones, such as jones, davies, and williams, which cover the principality. welsh place-names have similarly been threatened by hebrew names of chapels, such as bethesda, rehoboth, and jerusalem, but in this direction the jewish mania has only here and there effected permanent mischief. [ ] the brython was a valuable welsh periodical published by mr. robert isaac jones, at tremadoc, in the years - , and edited by the rev. chancellor silvan evans, who was then the curate of llangïan in lleyn: in fact he was curate for fourteen years! his excellent work in editing the brython earned for him his diocesan's displeasure, but it is easier to imagine than to describe how hard it was for him to resign the honorarium of £ derived from the brython when his stipend as a clergyman was only £ , at the same time that he had dependent on him a wife and six children. however much some people affect to laugh at the revival of the national spirit in wales, we have, i think, got so far as to make it, for some time to come, impossible for a welsh clergyman to be snubbed on account of his literary tastes or his delight in the archæology of his country. [ ] this parish is called after a saint named tegái or tygái, like tyfaelog and tysilio, and though the accent rests on the final syllable nothing could prevent the grammarian huw tegai and his friends from making it into tégai in huw's name. [ ] for can they now usually put ann, and mr. hughes remembers hearing it so many years ago. [ ] i remember seeing a similar mound at llanfyrnach, in pembrokeshire; and the last use made of the hollow on the top of this also is supposed to have been for cock-fights. [ ] my attention has also been called to freit, frete, freet, fret, 'news, inquiry, augury,' corresponding to anglo-saxon freht, 'divination.' but the disparity of meaning seems to stand in the way of our ffrit being referred to this origin. [ ] the oxford mabinogion, p. ; guest, iii. . [ ] see the itinerarium kambriæ, i. (pp. - ), and celtic britain, p. . [ ] as for example in the archæologia cambrensis for , pp. - ; see also , pp. - . [ ] howells has also an account of llyn savadhan, as he writes it: see his cambrian superstitions, pp. - , where he quaintly says that the story of the wickedness of the ancient lord of syfadon is assigned as the reason why 'the superstitious little river lewenny will not mix its water with that of the lake.' lewenny is a reckless improvement of mapes' leueni (printed lenem); and giraldus' clamosum implies an old spelling llefni, pronounced the same as the later spelling llyfni, which is now made into llynfi or llynvi: the river so called flows through the lake and into the wye at glasbury. as to safadan or syfadon, it is probably of goidelic origin, and to be identified with such an irish name as the feminine samthann: see dec. in the martyrologies. to keep within our data, we are at liberty to suppose that this was the name of the wicked princess in the story, and that she was the ancestress of a clan once powerful on and around the lake, which lies within a goidelic area indicated by its ogam inscriptions. [ ] these were held, so far as i can gather from the descriptions usually given of them, exactly as i have seen a kermess or kirchmesse celebrated at heidelberg, or rather the village over the neckar opposite that town. it was in , but i forget what saint it was with whose name the kermess was supposed to be connected: the chief features of it were dancing and beer drinking. it was by no means unusual for a welsh gwyl fabsant to bring together to a rural neighbourhood far more people than could readily be accommodated; and in carnarvonshire a hurriedly improvised bed is to this day called gwely g'l'absant, as it were 'a bed (for the time) of a saint's festival.' rightly or wrongly the belief lingers that these merry gatherings were characterized by no little immorality, which made the better class of people set their faces against them. [ ] since the editing of this volume was begun i have heard that it is intended to publish the welsh collection which mr. jones has made: so i shall only give a translation of the edward llwyd version of the afanc story: see section v. of this chapter. [ ] this word is not in welsh dictionaries, but it is scotch and manx gaelic, and is possibly a remnant of the goidelic once spoken in gwyned. [ ] our charlatans never leave off trying to make this into tryfaen so as to extract maen, 'stone,' from it. they do not trouble themselves to find out whether it ever was tryfaen or not: in fact they rather like altering everything as much as they can. [ ] ystrádllyn, with the accent on the penult, is commonly pronounced strállyn, and means 'the strand of the lake,' and the hollow is named after it cwm strállyn, and the lake in it llyn cwm strállyn, which literally means 'the lake of the combe of the strand of the lake'--all seemingly for the luxury of forgetting the original name of the lake, which i have never been able to ascertain. [ ] so mr. jones puts it: i have never heard of any other part of the principality where the children are usually baptized before they are eight days old. [ ] i cannot account for this spelling, but the ll in bellis is english ll, not the welsh ll, which represents a sound very different from that of l. [ ] where not stated otherwise, as in this instance, the reader is to regard this chapter as written in the latter part of the year . [ ] see giraldus' itinerarium kambriæ, i. (pp. - ); some discussion of the whole story will be found in chapter iii of this volume. [ ] dr. moore explains this to be cabbages and potatoes, pounded and mixed with butter or lard. [ ] it would be interesting to know what has become of this letter and others of llwyd's once in the possession of the canon, for it is not to be supposed that the latter ever took the trouble to make an accurate copy of them any more than he did of any other mss. [ ] there is also a sarn yr afanc, 'the afanc's stepping stones,' on the ogwen river in nant ffrancon: see pennant's tours in wales, iii. . [ ] the oxen should accordingly have been called ychain pannog; but the explanation is not to be taken seriously. these oxen will come under the reader's notice again, to wit in chapter x. [ ] the lines are copied exactly as given at p. (i. vi. - ) of the poetical works of lewis glyn cothi, edited for the cymmrodorion by gwallter mechain and tegid, and printed at oxford in the year . [ ] this, i should say, must be a mistake, as it contradicts all the folklore which makes the rowan an object of dread to the fairies. [ ] see choice notes from 'notes and queries' (london, ), p. . [ ] it is more likely that it is a shortening of llyn y barfog, meaning the lake of the bearded one, lacus barbati as it were, the bearded one being somebody like the hairy monster of another lake mentioned at p. above, or him of the white beard pictured at p. . [ ] so far from afanc meaning a crocodile, an afanc is represented in the story of peredur as a creature that would cast at every comer a poisoned spear from behind a pillar standing at the mouth of the cave inhabited by it; see the oxford mabinogion, p. . the corresponding irish word is abhac, which according to o'reilly means 'a dwarf, pigmy, manikin; a sprite.' [ ] i should not like to vouch for the accuracy of mr. pughe's rendering of this and the other welsh names which he has introduced: that involves difficult questions. [ ] the writer meant the river known as dyfi or dovey; but he would seem to have had a water etymology on the brain. [ ] this involves the name of the river called disynni, and diswnwy embodies a popular etymology which is not worth discussing. [ ] it would, i think, be a little nearer the mark as follows:-- come thou, einion's yellow one, stray-horns, the particoloured lake cow, and the hornless dodin: arise, come home. but one would like to know whether dodin ought not rather to be written dodyn, to rhyme with llyn. [ ] hywel's real name is william davies, tal y bont, cardiganshire. as adjudicator i became acquainted with several stories which mr. davies has since given me permission to use, and i have to thank him for clues to several others. [ ] or llech y deri, as mr. williams tells me in a letter, where he adds that he does not know the place, but that he took it to be in the hundred of cemmes, in north-west pembrokeshire. i take llech y derwyd to be fictitious; but i have not succeeded in finding any place called by the other name either. [ ] perhaps the more usual thing is for the man returning from faery to fall into dust on the spot: see later in this chapter the curse of pantannas, which ends with an instance in point, and compare howells, pp. , . [ ] b. davies, that is, benjamin davies, who gives this tale, was, as i learn from gwynionyd, a native of cenarth. he was a schoolmaster for about twelve years, and died in october, , at merthyr, near carmarthen: he describes him as a good and intelligent man. [ ] this is ordinarily written cenarth, the name of a parish on the teifi, where the three counties of cardigan, pembroke, and carmarthen meet. [ ] the name llan dydoch occurs in the bruts, a.d. and , and is the one still in use in welsh; but the english st. dogmael's shows that it is derived from that of dogfael's name when the mutation consonant f or v was still written m. in welsh the name of the saint has been worn down to dogwel, as in st. dogwell's near fishguard, and llandogwel in llanrhudlad parish in anglesey: see reece's welsh saints, p. . it points back to an early brythonic form doco-maglos, with doco of the same origin as latin dux, ducis, 'a leader,' and maglo-s = irish mal, 'a lord or prince.' dogfael's name assumes in llan dydoch a goidelic form, for dog-fael would have to become in irish doch-mhal, which, cut down to doch with the honorific prefix to, has yielded ty-doch; but i am not clear why it is not ty-doch. another instance of a goidelic form of a name having the local preference in wales to this day offers itself in cyfelach and llan gyfelach in glamorganshire. the welsh was formerly cimeliauc (reece, p. ). here may also be mentioned st. cyngar, otherwise called docwinnus (reece, p. ), but the name occurs in the liber landavensis in the genitive both as docunn-i and docguinni, the former of which seems easily explained as goidelic for an early form of cyngar, namely cuno-caros, from which would be formed to-chun or do-chun. this is what seems to underlie the latin docunnus, while docguinni is possibly a goidelic modification of the written docunni, unless some such a name as doco-vindo-s has been confounded with docunnus. in one instance the book of llan dâv has instead of abbas docunni or docguinni, the shorter designation, abbas dochou (p. ), which one must not unhesitatingly treat as dochon, seeing that dochou would be in later book welsh dochau, and in the dialect of the district docha; and that this occurs in the name of the church of llandough near cardiff, and llandough near cowbridge. the connexion of a certain saint dochdwy with these churches does not appear at all satisfactorily established, but more light is required to help one to understand these and similar church names. [ ] this name which may have come from little england below wales, was once not uncommon in south cardiganshire, as mr. williams informs me, but it is now mostly changed as a surname into davies and jones! compare the similar fortunes of the name mason mentioned above, p. . [ ] i have not succeeded in discovering who the writer was, who used this name. [ ] this name as it is now written should mean 'the gold's foot,' but in the demetian dialect aur is pronounced oer, and i learn from the rector, the rev. rhys jones lloyd, that the name has sometimes been written tref deyrn, which i regard as some etymologist's futile attempt to explain it. more importance is to be attached to the name on the communion cup, dating , and reading, as mr. lloyd kindly informs me, poculum eclyseye de tre-droyre. beneath droyre some personal name possibly lies concealed. [ ] y ferch o gefn ydfa ('the maid of cefn ydfa'), by isaac craigfryn hughes, published by messrs. daniel owen, howell & co., cardiff, . [ ] in a letter dated february , , he states, however, that as regards folklore the death of his father at the age of seventy-six, in the year , had been a great loss to him; for he adds that he was perfectly familiar with the traditions of the neighbourhood and had associated with older men. among the latter he had been used to talk with an old man whose father remembered cromwell passing on his way to destroy the iron works of pant y gwaith, where the cavaliers had had a cannon cast, which was afterwards used in the engagement at st. fagan's. [ ] this term is sometimes represented as being bendith eu mamau, 'their mother's blessing,' as if each fairy were such a delightful offspring as to constitute himself or herself a blessing to his or her mother; but i have not found satisfactory evidence to the currency of bendith eu mamau, or, as it would be pronounced in glamorgan, béndith i máma. on the whole, therefore, perhaps one may regard the name as pointing back to the celtic goddesses known in gaul in roman times as the mothers. [ ] on pen craig daf mr. hughes gives the following note:--it was the residence of dafyd morgan or 'counsellor morgan,' who, he says, was executed on kennington common for taking the side of the pretender. he had retreated to pen y graig, where his abode was, in order to conceal himself; but he was discovered and carried away at night. here follows a verse from an old ballad about him:-- dafyd morgan ffel a ffol, taffy morgan, sly and daft, fe aeth yn ol ei hyder: he did his bent go after: fe neidod naid at rebel haid he leaped a leap to a rebel swarm, pan drod o blaid pretender. to arm for a pretender. [ ] a tòn is any green field that is used for grazing and not meant to be mown, land which has, as it were, its skin of grassy turf unbroken for years by the plough. [ ] on this mr. hughes has a note to the effect that the whole of one milking used to be given in glamorgan to workmen for assistance at the harvest or other work, and that it was not unfrequently enough for the making of two cheeses. [ ] since this was first printed i have learnt from mr. hughes that the first cry issued from the black cauldron in the taff (o'r gerwyn du ar daf), which i take to be a pool in that river. [ ] the fan is the highest mountain in the parish of merthyr tydfil, mr. hughes tells me: he adds that there was on its side once a chapel with a burial ground. its history seems to be lost, but human bones have, as he states, been frequently found there. [ ] the above, i am sorry to say, is not the only instance of this nasty trick associating itself with gwent, as will be seen from the story of bwca'r trwyn in chapter x. [ ] this chapter, except where a later date is suggested, may be regarded as written in the summer of . [ ] trefriw means the town of the slope or hillside, and stands for tref y riw, not tref y rhiw, which would have yielded treffriw, for there is a tendency in gwyned to make the mutation after the definite article conform to the general rule, and to say y law, 'the hand,' and y raw, 'the spade,' instead of what would be in books y llaw and y rhaw from yr llaw and yr rhaw. [ ] why the writer spells the name criccieth in this way i cannot tell, except that he was more or less under the influence of the more intelligible spelling crugcaith, as where lewis glyn cothi. i. xxiv, sang rhys ab sion â'r hysbys iaith, gwr yw acw o grugcaith. this spelling postulates the interpretation crug-caith, earlier crug y ceith, 'the mound or barrow of the captives,' in reference to some forgotten interment; but when the accent receded to the first syllable the second was slurred almost out of recognition, so that crug-ceith, or cruc-ceith, became crúceth, whence crúcieth and cricieth. the bruts have crugyeith the only time it occurs, and the record of carnarvon (several times) krukyth. [ ] out of excessive fondness for our arthur english people translate this name into arthur's seat instead of idris' seat; but idris was also somebody: he was a giant with a liking for the study of the stars. but let that be: i wish to say a word concerning his name: idris may be explained as meaning 'war-champion,' or the like; and, phonologically speaking, it comes from iud-rys, which was made successively into id-rys, idris. the syllable iud meant battle or fight, and it undergoes a variety of forms in welsh names. thus before n, r, l, and w, it becomes id, as in idnerth, idloes, and idwal, while iud-hael yields ithel, whence ab ithel, anglicized bethel. at the end, however, it is yd or ud, as in gruffud or gruffyd, from old welsh grippiud, and maredud or meredyd for an older marget-iud. by itself it is possibly the word which the poets write ud, and understand to mean lord; but if these forms are related, it must have originally meant rather a fighter, soldier, or champion. [ ] there is a special similarity between this and an anglesey story given by howells, p. : it consists in the sequence of seeing the fairies dance and finding money left by them. why was the money left? [ ] it was so called by the poet d. ab gwilym, cxcii. , when he sang: i odi ac i luchio to bring snow and drifting flakes odiar lechwed moel eilio. from off moel eilio's slope. [ ] this is commonly pronounced 'y gath dorwen,' but the people of the neighbourhood wish to explain away a farm name which could, strangely enough, only mean 'the white-bellied cat'; but y garth dorwen, 'the white-bellied garth or hill,' is not a very likely name either. [ ] the hiring time in wales is the beginning of winter and of summer; or, as one would say in welsh, at the calends of winter and the calends of may respectively. in north cardiganshire the great hiring fair was held at the former date when i was a boy, and so, as i learn from my wife, it was in carnarvonshire. [ ] in a cornish story mentioned in choice notes, p. , we have, instead of ointment, simply soap. see also mrs. bray's banks of the tamar, pp. - , where she alludes to h. cornelius agrippa's statement how such ointment used to be made--the reference must, i think, be to his book de occulta philosophia libri iii (paris, ), i. (pp. - ). [ ] see the mabinogion, pp. - ; evans' facsimile of the black book of carmarthen, fol. b- a; rhys' arthurian legend, pp. - ; edmund jones' spirits in the county of monmouth, pp. , , ; and in this volume, pp. , , above. i may mention that the cornish also have had their cwn annwn, though the name is a different one, to wit in the phrase, 'the devil and his dandy-dogs': see choice notes, pp. - . [ ] as it stands now this would be unmutated césel gýfarch, 'cyfarch's nook,' but there never was such a name. there was, however, elgýfarch or aelgýfarch and rhygýfarch, and in such a combination as césel elgýfarch there would be every temptation to drop one unaccented el. [ ] owing to some oversight he has 'a clean or a dirty cow' instead of cow-yard or cow-house, as i understand it. [ ] cwta makes cota in the feminine in north cardiganshire; the word is nevertheless only the english cutty borrowed. du, 'black,' has corresponding to it in irish, dubh. so the welsh word seems to have passed through the stages dyv, dyw, before yw was contracted into û, which was formerly pronounced like french û, as proved by the grammar already mentioned (p. ) of j. d. rhys, published in london in ; see p. , to which my attention has been called by prof. j. morris jones. in old or pre-norman welsh m did duty for m and v, so one detects dyv as dim in a woman's name penardim, 'she of the very black head'; there was also a penarwen, 'she of the very blonde head.' the look of penardim having baffled the redactor of the branwen, he left the spelling unchanged: see the (oxford) mabinogion, p. . the same sort of change which produced du has produced cnu, 'a fleece,' as compared with cneifio, 'to fleece'; lluarth, 'a kitchen garden,' as compared with its irish equivalent lubhghort. compare also rhiwabon, locally pronounced rhuabon, and rhiwallon, occurring sometimes as rhuallon. but the most notable rôle of this phonetic process is exemplified by the verbal nouns ending in u, such as caru, 'to love,' credu, 'to believe,' tyngu, 'to swear,' in which the u corresponds to an m termination in old irish, as in sechem, 'to follow,' cretem, 'belief,' sessam or sessom, 'to stand.' [ ] in medieval welsh poetry this name was still a dissyllable; but now it is pronounced llyn, in conformity with the habit of the gwyndodeg, which makes into porfyd what is written porfeyd, 'pastures,' and pronounced porféid in north cardiganshire. so in the lleyn name sarn fyllteyrn the second vocable represents maelteyrn, in the record of carnarvon (p. ) mayltern: it is now sounded mylltyrn with the second y short and accented. lleyn is a plural of the people (genitive llaën in porth dinllaën), used as a singular of their country, like cymru = cymry, and prydyn. the singular is llain, 'a spear,' in the book of aneurin: see skene, ii. , , . [ ] it is also called dolur byr, or the 'short disease'; i believe i have been told that it is the disease known to 'the vet.' as anthrax. [ ] here the writer seems to have been puzzled by the mh of amheirchion, and to have argued back to a radical form parch; but he was on the wrong tack--amheirchion comes from ap-meirchion, where the p helped to make the m a surd, which, with the syllabic accent on the succeeding vowel, became fixed as mh, while the p disappeared by assimilation. we have, later on, a similar instance in owen y mhaxen for owen amhacsen = o. ap macsen. another instance will be found at the opening of the mabinogi of branwen, to wit, in the word prynhawngweith, 'once on an afternoon,' from prynhawn, 'afternoon,' for which our dictionaries substitute prydnawn, with the accent on the ultima, though d. ab gwilym used pyrnhawn, as in poem xl. . but the ordinary pronunciation continues to be prynháwn or pyrnháwn, sometimes reduced in gwyned to pnawn. let me add an instance which has reached me since writing the above: in the archæologia cambrensis for , pp. - , we have the pedigree of the ameridiths from the visitation of devonshire in : in the course of it one finds that iuan ap merydeth has a son thomas amerideth, who, knowing probably no welsh, took to writing his patronymic more nearly as it was pronounced. the line is brought down to ames amerideth, who was created baronet in . amerideth of course = ap meredyd, and the present member of the family who writes to the archæologia cambrensis spells his patronymic more correctly, ameridith; but if it had survived in wales it might have been amheredyd. for an older instance than any of these see the book of taliessin, poem xlix (= skene, ii. ), where one reads of beli amhanogan, 'b. ab mynogan.' [ ] this is pronounced rhiwan, though probably made up of rhiw-wen, for it is the tendency of the gwyndodeg to convert e and ai of the unaccented ultima into a, and so with e in glamorgan; see such instances as cornwan and casag, p. above. it is possibly a tendency inherited from goidelic, as irish is found to proceed in the same way. [ ] i may mention that some of the francises of anglesey are supposed to be descendants of frazers, who changed their name on finding refuge in the island in the time of the troubles which brought there the ancestor of the frazer who, from time to time, claims to be the rightful head of the lovat family. [ ] according to old welsh orthography this would be written moudin, and in the book welsh of the present day it would have to become meudin. restored, however, to the level of gallo-roman names, it would be mogodunum or magodunum. the place is known as castell moedin, and includes within it the end of a hill about halfway between llannarth and lampeter. [ ] for other mentions of the colours of fairy dress see pp. , above, where red prevails, and contrast the lake lady of llyn barfog clad in green, p. . [ ] this name means the bridge of the blessed ford, but how the ford came to be so called i know not. the word bendigaid, 'blessed,' comes from the latin verb benedico, 'i bless,' and should, but for the objection to nd in book welsh, be bendigaid, which, in fact, it is approximately in the northern part of the county, where it is colloquially sounded pont rhyd fyndiged, fydiged, or even fdiged, also pont rhyd mdiged, which represents the result of the unmutated form bdiged coming directly after the d of rhyd. somewhat the same is the case with the name of the herb dail y fendigaid, literally 'the leaves of the blessed' (in the feminine singular without any further indication of the noun to be supplied). this name means, i find, 'hypericum androsæmum, tutsan,' and in north cardiganshire we call it dail y fyndiged or fdiged, but in carnarvonshire the adjective is made to qualify dail, so that it sounds dail bydigad or bdigad, 'blessed leaves.' [ ] i am far from certain what y nos, 'the night,' may mean in such names as this and craig y nos, 'the rock of the night' (p. above), to which perhaps might be added such an instance as blaen nos, 'the point of (the?) night,' in the neighbourhood of llandovery, in carmarthenshire. can the allusion be merely to thickly overshadowed spots where the darkness of night might be said to lurk in defiance of the light of day? i have never visited the places in point, and leading questions addressed to local authorities are too apt to elicit misleading answers: the poetic faculty is dangerously rampant in the principality. [ ] dâr is a glamorgan pronunciation, metri gratiâ of what is written daear, 'earth': compare d'ar-fochyn in glamorgan for a badger, literally 'an earth pig.' the dwarf's answer was probably in some sort of verse, with dâr and iâr to rhyme. [ ] applied in glamorgan to a child that looks poorly and does not grow. [ ] in cardiganshire a conjurer is called dyn hysbys, where hysbys (or, in older orthography, hyspys) means 'informed': it is the man who is informed on matters which are dark to others; but the word is also used of facts--y mae 'r peth yn hysbys, 'the thing is known or manifest.' the word is divisible into hy-spys, which would be in irish, had it existed in the language, so-scese for an early su-squestia-s, the related irish words being ad-chiu, 'i see,' pass. preterite ad-chess, 'was seen,' and the like, in which ci and ces have been equated by zimmer with the sanskrit verb caksh, 'to see,' from a root quas. the adjective cynnil applied to the dyn hyspys in glamorgan means now, as a rule, 'economical' or 'thrifty,' but in this instance it would seem to have signified 'shrewd,' 'cunning,' or 'clever,' though it would probably come nearer the original meaning of the word to render it by 'smart,' for it is in irish conduail, which is found applied to ingenious work, such as the ornamentation on the hilt of a sword. another term for a wizard or conjurer is gwr cyfarwyd, with which the reader is already familiar. here cyfarwyd forms a link with the kyvarwyd of the mabinogion, where it usually means a professional man, especially one skilled in story and history; and what constituted his knowledge was called kyvarwydyt, which included, among other things, acquaintance with boundaries and pedigrees, but it meant most frequently perhaps story; see the (oxford) mabinogion, pp. , , , . all these terms should, strictly speaking, have gwr--gwr hyspys, gwr cynnil, and gwr cyfarwyd--but for the fact that modern welsh tends to restrict gwr to signify 'a husband' or 'a married man,' while dyn, which only signifies a mortal, is made to mean man, and provided with a feminine dynes, 'woman,' unknown to good welsh literature. thus the spoken language is in this matter nearly on a level with english and french, which have quite lost the word for vir and anêr. [ ] rhyd y gloch means 'the ford of the bell,' in allusion, as the story goes, to a silver bell that used in former ages to be at llanwonno church. the people of llanfabon took a liking to it, and one night a band of them stole it; but as they were carrying it across the taff the moon happened to make her appearance suddenly, and they, in their fright, taking it to be sunrise, dropped the bell in the bed of the river, so that nothing has ever been heard of it since. but for ages afterwards, and even at the present day indeed, nothing could rouse the natives of llanfabon to greater fury than to hear the moon spoken of as haul llanfabon, 'the sun of llanfabon.' [ ] it was peat fires that were usual in those days even in glamorgan. [ ] see hartland's science of fairy tales, pp. - . [ ] in no other version has mr. reynolds heard cwcwll wy iâr, but either plisgyn or cibyn wy iâr, to which i may add masgal from mr. craigfryn hughes' versions. the word cwcwll usually means a cowl, but perhaps it is best here to treat cwcwll as a distinct word derived somehow from conchylium or the french coquille, 'a shell.' [ ] the whole passage will be found in the itinerarium kambriæ, i. (pp. - ), and giraldus fixes the story a little before his time somewhere in the district around swansea and neath. with this agrees closely enough the fact that a second david, dafyd ab geralld or david fitzgerald, appears to have been consecrated bishop of st. david's in , and to have died in . [ ] the words in the original are: nec carne vescebantur, nec pisce; lacteis plerumque cibariis utentes, et in pultis modum quasi croco confectis. [ ] perhaps it is this also that suggested the name eliodorus, as it were hêliodôros; for the original name was probably the medieval welsh one of elidyr = irish ailithir, ailither, 'a pilgrim': compare the pembrokeshire name pergrin and the like. it is curious that elidyr did not occur to glasynys and prevent him from substituting elfod, which is quite another name, and more correctly written elfod for the earlier el-fodw, found not only as elbodu but also elbodug-o, elbodg, elbot and elfod: see p. above. [ ] for one or two more instances from wales see howells, pp. - . brittany also is a great country for death portents: see a. le braz, légende de la mort en basse-bretagne (paris, ), also sébillot's traditions et superstitions de la haute-bretagne (paris, ), i. pp. - . for scotland see the ghost lights of the west highlands by dr. r. c. maclagan in folk-lore for , pp. - , and for the cognate subject of second sight see dalyell's darker superstitions of scotland, pp. - . [ ] another word for the toeli is given by silvan evans as used in certain parts of south wales, namely, tolaeth or dolath, as to which he mentions the opinion that it is a corruption of tylwyth, a view corroborated by howells using, p. , the plural tyloethod; but it could not be easily explained except as a corruption through the medium of english. elias owen, p. , uses the word in reference to the hammering and rapping noise attending the joinering of a phantom coffin for a man about to die, a sort of rehearsal well known throughout the principality to every one who has ears spiritually tuned. unfortunately i have not yet succeeded in locating the use of the word tolaeth, except that i have been assured by a carmarthen man that it is current in welsh there as toleth, and by a native of pumsant that it is in use from abergwili up to llanbumsant. [ ] see, for instance, pp. , , . [ ] mrs. williams-ellis of glasfryn writes to me that the place is now called bwlch trwyn swncwl, that it is a gap on the highest part of the road crossing from llanaelhaearn to pistyll, and that it is quite a little mountain pass between bleak heather-covered hillsides, in fact a very lonely spot in the outskirts of the eifl, and with carnguwch blocking the horizon in the direction of cardigan bay. [ ] for this i am indebted to mr. gwenogvryn evans' report on mss. in the welsh language, i. k. the words were written by williams about the beginning of the seventeenth century, and his û does not mean w. he was, however, probably thinking of cawr, cewri, and such instances as tawaf, 'taceo,' and tau, 'tacet.' at all events there is no trace of u in the local pronunciation of the name tre'r ceiri. i have heard it also as tre' ceiri without the definite article; but had this been ancient one would expect it softened into tre' geiri. [ ] see the oxford mabinogion, pp. , , and - , - , , also , where a triad explains that the outposts were anglesey, man, and lundy. but the other triads, i. = iii. , make them orkney, man, and wight, for which we have the older authority of nennius. § . the designation tair ynys brydain, 'the three isles of prydain,' was known to the fourteenth-century poet, iolo goch: see his works edited by ashton, p. . [ ] for prydyn in the plural see skene's four ancient books of wales, ii. , also , where pryden is the form used. in modern welsh the two senses of cymry are distinguished in writing as cymry and cymru, but the difference is merely one of spelling and not very ancient. [ ] so geoffrey (i. - ) brings his trojans on their way to britain into aquitania, where they fight with the pictavienses, whose king he calls goffarius pictus. [ ] cadarn and cadr postulate respectively some such early forms as catrno-s and cadro-s, which according to analogy should become cadarn and cadr. welsh, however, is not fond of dr; so here begins a bifurcation: ( ) retaining the d unchanged cadro-s yields cadr, or ( ) dr is made into dr, and other changes set in resulting in the ceir of ceiri, as in welsh aneirif, 'numberless,' from eirif, 'number,' of the same origin as irish áram from *ad-rim = *ad-rima, and welsh eiliw, 'species, colour,' for ad-liw, in both of which i follows d combinations; but that is not essential, as shown by cader, cadair, for old welsh cateir, 'a chair,' from latin cat[h]edra. the word that serves as our singular, namely cawr, is far harder to explain; but on the whole i am inclined to regard it as of a different origin, to wit, the goidelic word caur, 'a giant or hero,' borrowed. the plural cewri or cawri is formed from the singular cawr, which means a giant, though, associated in the plural with ceiri, it has sometimes to follow suit with that vocable in connoting dress. [ ] the most important of these are the old breton kazr, now kaer, 'beautiful or pretty,' and old cornish caer of the same meaning; elsewhere we have, as in greek, the doric kekadmai and kekadmenos, to be found used in reference to excelling or distinguishing one's self; also kosmos, 'good order, ornament,' while in sanskrit there is the theme çad, 'to excel or surpass.' the old meaning of 'beautiful,' 'decorated,' or 'loudly dressed,' is not yet lost in the case of ceiri. [ ] for the text see the oxford mabinogion, pp. - , and for comparisons of the incident see nutt's holy grail, p. et seq.; and rhys' arthurian legend, pp. - . a more exact parallel, however, is to be mentioned in the next chapter. [ ] this chapter was written mostly in . [ ] the spelling there used is phynnodderee, to the perversity of which cregeen calls attention in his dictionary. in any case the pronunciation is always approximately fun-ó-dur-i or fun-ód-ri, with the accent on the second syllable. [ ] i am inclined to think that the first part of the word fenodyree is not fynney, the manx word for 'hair,' but the scandinavian word which survives in the swedish fjun, 'down.' thus fjun-hosur (for the fjun-hosa suggested by analogy) would explain the word fenodyree, except its final ee, which is obscure. compare also the magic breeks called finn-brækr, as to which see vigfusson's icelandic dict. s. v. finnar. [ ] cumming's isle of man (london, ), p. , where he refers his readers to waldron's description of the isle of man: see pp. , . [ ] see windisch's irische grammatik, p. . [ ] the manx word for the rowan tree, incorrectly called a mountain ash, is cuirn, which is in mod. irish caorthann, genitive caorthainn, scotch gaelic caorunn; but in welsh books it is cerdin, singular cerdinen, and in the spoken language mostly cerdin, cerding, singular cerdinen, cerdingen. this variation seems to indicate that these words have possibly been borrowed by the welsh from a goidelic source; but the berry is known in wales by the native name of criafol, from which the wood is frequently called, especially in north wales, coed criafol, singular coeden griafol or pren criafol. the sacredness of the rowan is the key to the proper names mac-cáirthinn and der-cháirthinn, with which the student of irish hagiology is familiar. they mean the son and the daughter of the rowan respectively, and the former occurs as maqui cairatini on an ogam inscribed stone recently discovered in meath, not very far from the boyne. [ ] i am sorry to say that it never occurred to me to ask whether the shooting was done with such modern things as guns. but mr. arthur moore assures me that it is always understood to be bows and arrows, not guns. [ ] edited by oswald cockayne for the master of the rolls (london, - ): see more especially vol. ii. pp. - , - , ; vol. iii. pp. - . [ ] mr. moore is not familiar with this term, but i heard it at surby, in the south; and i find buidseach and buidseachd given as highland gaelic words for a witch and witchcraft respectively. [ ] see stokes' goidelica, p. . [ ] this chapter was written in , except the portions of it which refer to later dates indicated. [ ] see the stokes-o'donovan edition of cormac (calcutta, ), pp. , . [ ] sir john sinclair's statistical account of scotland, xi. ; pennant's tour in scotland in ( rd edition, warrington, ), i. , , ; thomas stephens' gododin, pp. - ; and dr. murray in the new english dictionary, s. v. beltane. [ ] in my hibbert lectures on celtic heathendom, pp. - . [ ] as to the thargelia and delia, see preller's griechische mythologie, i. - , and a. mommsen's heortologie, pp. - . [ ] see section h of the report of the liverpool meeting of the british association in , pp. - . [ ] it is my impression that it is crowned with a small tumulus, and that it forms the highest ground in jurby, which was once an island by itself. the one between ramsey and bride is also probably the highest point of the range. but these are questions which i should like to see further examined, say by mr. arthur moore or mr. kermode. [ ] cronk yn irree laa, despite the gender, is the name as pronounced by all manxmen who have not been misled by antiquarians. to convey the other meaning, referring to the day watch, the name would have to be cronk ny harrey laa; in fact, a part of the howe in the south of the island is called cronk ny harrey, 'the hill of the watch.' mr. moore tells me that the jurby cronk was one of the eminences for 'watch and ward'; but he is now of opinion that the high mountain of cronk yn irree laa in the south was not. as to the duty of the inhabitants to keep 'watch and ward' over the island, see the passage concerning it extracted from the manx statutes (vol. i. p. ) by mr. moore in his manx surnames, pp. - ; also my preface to the same work, pp. v-viii. [ ] quoted from oliver's monumenta de insula manniæ, vol. i. (manx society, vol. iv) p. : see also cumming's isle of man, p. . [ ] see the new english dictionary, s. v. 'allhallows.' [ ] this comes near the pronunciation usual in roxburghshire and the south of scotland generally, which is, as dr. murray informs me, hunganay without the m occurring in the other forms to be mentioned presently. but so far as i have been able to find, the manx pronunciation is now hob dy naa, which i have heard in the north, while hob ju naa is the prevalent form in the south. [ ] see my hibbert lectures, pp. - ; and as to hiring fairs in wales see pp. - above. [ ] see robert bell's early ballads (london, ), pp. - , where the following is given as sung at richmond in yorkshire:-- to-night it is the new-year's night, to-morrow is the day, and we are come for our right, and for our ray, as we used to do in old king henry's day. sing, fellows, sing, hagman-heigh. if you go to the bacon-flick, cut me a good bit; cut, cut and low, beware of your maw; cut, cut and round, beware of your thumb, that me and my merry men may have some. sing, fellows, sing, hagman-heigh. if you go to the black-ark bring me x mark; ten mark, ten pound, throw it down upon the ground, that me and my merry men may have some. sing, fellows, sing, hagman-heigh. [ ] the subject is worked out in nicholson's golspie, pp. - , also in the new english dictionary, where mention is made of a derivation involving calendæ, which reminds me of the welsh call for a new-year's gift--calennig! or c'lennig! in arfon 'y ngh'lennig i! 'my calends gift if you please!' [ ] on being asked, after reading this paper to the folk-lore society, who was supposed to make the footmarks in the ashes, i had to confess that i had been careless enough never to have asked the question. i have referred it to mr. moore, who informs me that nobody, as i expected, will venture on any explanation by whom the footmarks are made. [ ] this seems to imply the application of the same adjective, some time or other, to clean water and a handsome man, just as we speak in north cardiganshire of dwr glân, 'clean water,' and bachgen glân, 'a handsome boy.' [ ] in phillips' book of common prayer this is called lá nolick y biggy, 'little nativity day,' and lá ghian blieny, 'the day of the year's end,' meaning, of course, the former end of the year, not the latter: see pp. , , . [ ] see my hibbert lectures, pp. - , and the brython, ii. , : an instance in point occurs in the next chapter. [ ] this has been touched upon in my hibbert lectures, p. ; but to the reasons there briefly mentioned should be added a reference to the position allotted to intercalary months in the norse calendar, namely, at the end of the summer half, that is, as i think, at the end of the ancient norse year. [ ] my paper was read before the folk-lore society in april or may, , and miss peacock's notes appeared in the journal of the society in the following december: see pp. - . [ ] see choice notes, p. . [ ] see the third edition of wm. nicholson's poetical works (castle-douglas, ), pp. , . [ ] see p. above and the references there given; also howells' cambrian superstitions, p. . [ ] pomponius mela de chorographia, edited by parthey, iii, chap. (p. ); see also my hibbert lectures, pp. - , where, however, the identification of the name sena with that of sein should be cancelled. sein seems to be derived from the breton seidhun, otherwise modified into sizun and sun: see chap. vi below. [ ] see my hibbert lectures, pp. - ; also my arthurian legend, pp. - , where a passage in point is cited at length from plutarch de defectu oraculorum, xviii. (= the didot edition of plutarch's works, iii. ); the substance of it will be found given likewise in chap. viii below. [ ] for an allusion to the traffic in winds in wales see howells, p. , where he speaks as follows:--'in pembrokeshire there was a person commonly known as the cunning man of pentregethen, who sold winds to the sailors, after the manner of the lapland witches, and who was reverenced in the neighbourhood in which he dwelt, much more than the divines.' [ ] this may turn out to be all wrong; for i learn from the rev. john quine, vicar of malew, in man, that there is a farm called balthane or bolthane south of ballasalla, and that in the computus (of ) of the abbey tenants it is called biulthan. this last, if originally a man's name, would seem to point back to some such a compound as beo-ultán. in his manx names, p. , mr. moore suggests the possibility of explaining the name as bwoailtyn, 'folds or pens'; but the accentuation places that out of the question. see also the lioar manninagh, iii. , where mr. c. roeder, referring to the same computus passage, gives the name as builthan in the boundary inter cross jvar builthan. this would be read by mr. quine as inter cross ivar et biulthan, 'between cross-ivar and bolthane.' for the text of the boundary see johnstone's edition of the chronicon manniæ (copenhagen, ), p. , and oliver's monumenta de insula manniæ, vol. i. p. ; see also mr. quine's paper on the boundary of abbey lands in the lioar manninagh, iii. - . [ ] i say 'approximately,' as, more strictly speaking, the ordinary pronunciation is sndaen, almost as one syllable, and from this arises a variant, which is sometimes written stondane, while the latest english development, regardless of the accentuation of the anglo-manx form, which is santon, pronounced sántn, makes the parish into a st. ann's! for the evidence that it was the parish of a st. sanctán see moore's names, p. . [ ] the athenæum for april , , p. . i may here remark that mr. borlase's note on do fhagaint is, it seems to me, unnecessary: let do fhagaint stand, and translate, not 'i leave' but 'to leave.' the letter should be consulted for curious matter concerning croagh patrick, its pagan stations, cup-markings, &c. [ ] since this paper was read to the folk-lore society a good deal of information of one kind or another has appeared in its journal concerning the first-foot: see more especially folk-lore for , pp. - , and for , pp. - . [ ] this was written at the beginning of the year . [ ] with this compare what mr. gomme has to say of a new year's day custom observed in lanarkshire: see p. of the ethnographic report referred to at p. above, and compare henderson, p. . [ ] old-fashioned grammarians and dictionary makers are always delighted to handle mrs. partington's broom: so kelly thinks he has done a fine thing by printing guee, 'prayer,' and gwee, 'cursing.' [ ] this was written at the end of , and read to a joint meeting of the cymmrodorion and folk-lore societies on january , . [ ] some account of them was given by me in folk-lore for , p. ; but somehow or other my contribution was printed unrevised, with results more peculiar than edifying. [ ] in folk-lore for , pp. - . [ ] in the neighbourhood i find that the word gwaeldyn in this verse is sometimes explained to mean not a worthless but an ailing person, on the strength of the fact that the adjective gwael is colloquially used both for vile and for ailing. [ ] since writing the above remarks the following paragraph, purporting to be copied from the liverpool mercury for november , , appeared in the archæologia cambrensis for , p. :--'two new fishes have just been put in the "sacred well," ffynnon y sant, at tyn y ffynnon, in the village of nant peris, llanberis. invalids in large numbers came, during the last century and the first half of the present century, to this well to drink of its "miraculous waters"; and the oak box, where the contributions of those who visited the spot were kept, is still in its place at the side of the well. there have always been two "sacred fishes" in this well; and there is a tradition in the village to the effect that if one of the tyn y ffynnon fishes came out of its hiding-place when an invalid took some of the water for drinking or for bathing purposes, cure was certain; but if the fishes remained in their den, the water would do those who took it no good. two fishes only are to be put in the well at a time, and they generally live in its waters for about half a century. if one dies before the other, it would be of no use to put in a new fish, for the old fish would not associate with it, and it would die. the experiment has been tried. the last of the two fishes put in the well about fifty years ago died last august. it had been blind for some time previous to its death. when taken out of the water it measured seventeen inches, and was buried in the garden adjoining the well. it is stated in a document of the year that the parish clerk was to receive the money put in the box of the well by visitors. this money, together with the amount of s. d., was his annual stipend.' tyn y ffynnon means 'the tenement of the well,' tyn being a shortened form of tydyn, 'a tenement,'as mentioned at p. above; but the mapsters make it into ty'n = ty yn, 'a house in,' so that the present instance, ty'n y ffynnon, could only mean 'the house in the well,' which, needless to say, it is not. but one would like to know whether the house and land were once held rent-free on condition that the tenant took care of the sacred fish. [ ] see ashton's iolo goch, p. , and lewis' top. dict. [ ] see my hibbert lectures, p. , and the iolo mss., pp. - , - . [ ] a curious note bearing on this name occurs in the jesus college ms. (cymmrodor, viii. p. ) in reference to the name morgannwg, 'glamorgan':--o enw morgant vchot y gelwir morgannwc. ereill a dyweit. mae o en&wwelsh; mochteyrn predein. 'it is from the name of the above morgan that morgannwg is called. others say that it is from the name of the mochdeyrn of pictland.' the mochteyrn must have been a pictish king or mórmáer called morgan. the name occurs in the charters from the book of deer in stokes' goidelica. pp. , , as morcunt, morcunn, and morgunn undeclined, also with morgainn for genitive; and so in skene's chronicles of the picts and scots, pp. , , where it is printed morgaind; see also stokes' tigernach, in the revue celtique, xvii. . compare geoffrey's story, ii. , which introduces a northern marganus to account for the name margan, now margam, in morgannwg. [ ] m. loth's remarks in point will be found in the revue celtique, xiii. - , where he compares with tut the breton teuz, 'lutin, génie malfaisant ou bienfaisant'; and for the successive guesses on the subject of the name morgan tut one should also consult zimmer's remarks in foerster's introduction to his erec, pp. xxvii-xxxi, and my arthurian legend, p. , to which i should add a reference to the book of ballymote, fo. a, where we have o na bantuathaib, which o'curry has rendered 'on the part of their witches' in his manners and customs of the ancient irish, iii. - . compare dá bhantuathaigh, 'two female sorcerers,' in joyce's keating's history of ireland, pp. - . [ ] for all about the children of lir, and about liban and lough neagh, see joyce's old celtic romances, pp. - , - . [ ] on my appealing to cadrawd, one of the later editors, he has found me the exact reference, to wit, volume ix of the cyfaill (published in ), p. ; and he has since contributed a translation of the story to the columns of the south wales daily news for february , , where he has also given an account of crymlyn, which is to be mentioned later. [ ] judging from the three best-known instances, y bala meant the outlet of a lake: i allude to this bala at the outlet of llyn tegid; pont y bala, 'the bridge of the bala,' across the water flowing from the upper into the lower lake at llanberis; and bala deulyn, 'the bala of two lakes,' at nantlle. two places called bryn y bala are mentioned s. v. bala in morris' celtic remains, one near aberystwyth, at a spot which i have never seen, and the other near the lower end of the lower lake of llanberis, as to which it has been suggested to me that it is an error for bryn y bela. it is needless to say that bala has nothing to do with the anglo-irish bally, of such names as ballymurphy or ballynahunt: this vocable is in english bailey, and in south wales beili, 'a farm yard or enclosure,' all three probably from the late latin balium or ballium, 'locus palis munitus et circumseptus.' our etymologists never stop short with bally: they go as far as balaklava and, probably, ballarat, to claim cognates for our bala. [ ] cadrawd here gives the welsh as ' bladur ... dyd o wair,' and observes that the lacuna consists of an illegible word of three letters. if that word was either sef, 'that is,' or neu, 'or,' the sense would be as given above. in north cardiganshire we speak of a day's mowing as gwaith gwr, 'a man's work for a day,' and sometimes of a gwaith gwr bach, 'a man's work for a short day.' [ ] see by-gones for may , . the full name of welshpool in welsh is trallwng llywelyn, so called after a llywelyn descended from cuneda, and supposed to have established a religious house there; for there are other trallwngs, and at first sight it would seem as if trallwng had something to do with a lake or piece of water. but there is a trallwng, for instance, near brecon, where there is no lake to give it the name; and my attention has been called to thos. richards' welsh-english dictionary, where a trallwng is said to be 'such a soft place on the road (or elsewhere) as travellers may be apt to sink into, a dirty pool.' so the word seems to be partly of the same derivation as go-llwng, 'to let go, to give way.' the form of the word in use now is trallwm, not trallwng or trallwn. [ ] see the book of the dun cow, fo. a- b and joyce's old celtic romances, pp. - ; but the story may now be consulted in o'grady's silva gadelica, i. - , translated in ii. - . on turning over the leaves of this great collection of irish lore, i chanced, i. , ii. , on an allusion to a well which, when uncovered, was about to drown the whole locality but for a miracle performed by st. patrick to arrest the flow of its waters. a similar story of a well bursting and forming lough reagh, in county galway, will be found told in verse in the book of leinster; fo. b: see also fo. a, and the editor's notes, pp. , . [ ] see evans' autotype edition of the black book of carmarthen, fos. b, a, also a: the punctuation is that of the ms. in the seventh triplet kedaul is written keadaul, which seems to mean kadaul corrected into kedaul; but the a is not deleted, so other readings are possible. [ ] in the iolo mss., p. , finaun wenestir is made into ffynon-wenestr and said to be one of the ornamental epithets of the sea; but i am convinced that it should be rather treated as ffynnon fenestr with wenestir or fenestr mutated from menestr, which meant a servant, attendant, cup-bearer: for one or two instances see pughe's dictionary. the word is probably, as suggested by m. loth in his mots latins, p. . the old french menestre, 'cup-bearer,' borrowed. compare the mention of nechtán's men having access to the secret well in sid nechtáin, p. below, and note that they were his three menestres or cup-bearers. [ ] see the cymmrodor, viii. (no. xxix), where a marereda is mentioned as a daughter of madog son of meredyd brother to rhys gryg. [ ] there is another reading which would make them into segantii, and render it irrelevant--to say the least of it--to mention them here. [ ] see the mabinogion, p. : the passage has been mistranslated in lady charlotte guest's mabinogion, iii. . [ ] see my arthurian legend, pp. - . [ ] i do not profess to see my way through the difficulties which the probable etymological connexion between the names setantii, setanta, seithyn, and seithennin implies. but parts of the following string of guesses may be found to hold good:--seithyn is probably more correct than seithin, as it rhymes with cristin = cristyn (in cristynogaeth: see silvan evans' geiriadur, s. v., and skene's four ancient books, ii. ); and it might be assumed to be from the same stem as seizun; but, supposing it to represent an earlier seithynt, it would equate phonologically with setanta, better setinte, of which the genitive setinti actually occurs, as a river name, in the book of the dun cow, fo. b: see my hibbert lectures, p. , and see also the revue celtique, xi. . it would mean some such an early form setntio-s, and seithenhin, another derivative from the same stem, setntino-s. but the retention of n before t in setinte proves it not to be unconnected with seithyn, but borrowed from some brythonic dialect when the latter was pronounced seithntio-s. if this be anywhere nearly right one has to assume that the manuscripts of ptolemy giving the genitive plural as setantiôn or segantiôn should have read sektantiôn, unless one should rather conjecture segtantiôn with cht represented by gt as in ogams in pembrokeshire: witness ogtene and maqui quegte. this conjecture as to the original reading would suggest that the name was derived from the seventh numeral sechtn, just as that of the galloway people of the novantæ seems to be from the ninth numeral. ptolemy's next entry to the harbour of the setantii is the estuary of the belisama, supposed to be the mersey; and next comes the estuary of the seteia or segeia, supposed to be the dee. now the country of the setantii, when they had a country, may have reached from their harbour near the mouth of the ribble to the seteia or the dee without the name seteia or segeia having anything to do with their own, except that it may have influenced the latter in the manuscripts of ptolemy's text. then we possibly have a representative of seteia or segeia in the saidi or seidi, sometimes appended to seithyn's name. in that case seithyn saidi, in the late triad iii. , would mean seithyn of seteia, or the dee. a mab saidi occurs in the kulhwch story (mabinogion, p. ), also cas, son of saidi (ib. ); and in rhonabwy's dream kadyrieith, son of saidi (ib. ); but the latter vocable is seidi in triad ii. (ib. ). it is to be borne in mind that ptolemy does not represent the setantii as a people in his time: he only mentions a harbour called after the setantii. so it looks as if they then belonged to the past--that in fact they were, as i should put it, a goidelic people who had been conquered and partly expelled by brythonic tribes, to wit, by the brigantes, and also by the cornavii in case the setantii had once extended southwards to the dee. this naturally leads one to think that some of them escaped to places on the coast, such as dyfed, and that some made for the opposite coast of ireland, and that, by the time when the cúchulainn stories came to be edited as we have them, the people in question were known to the redactors of those stories only by the brythonic form of their name, which underlies that of setanta beg, or the little setantian. those of them who found a home on the coast of cardigan bay may have brought with them a version of the inundation story with seithennin, son of seithyn, as the principal figure in it. so in due time he had to be attached to some royal family, and in the iolo mss., pp. - , he is made to descend from a certain plaws hen, king of dyfed, while the saints named as his descendants seem to have belonged chiefly to gwyned and powys. [ ] see the professor's address on the place of a university in the history of wales, delivered at bangor at the opening ceremony of the session of - (bangor, ), p. . the reference to giraldus is to his itin. kambriæ, i. (p. ), and the expugnatio hibernica, i. (p. ). [ ] instead of 'she followed it' one would have expected 'it followed her'; but the style is very loose and rough. [ ] as a 'cardy' i have here two grievances, one against my northwalian fellow countrymen, that they insist on writing rheidiol out of sheer weakness for the semivowel i; and the other against the compilers of school books on geography, who give the lake away to the wye or the severn. i am told that this does not matter, as our geographers are notoriously accurate about natal and other distant lands; so i ought to rest satisfied. [ ] professor meyer has given a number of extracts concerning her in his notes to his edition of the vision of mac conglinne (london, ), pp. - , - , and recently he has published the song of the old woman of beare in the otia merseiana (london, ), pp. - , from the trinity college codex, h. , , where we are told, among other things, that her name was digdi, and that she belonged to corcaguiny. the name béara, or bérre, would seem to suggest identification with that of bera, daughter of eibhear, king of spain, and wife of eoghan taidhleach, in the late story of the courtship of moméra, edited by o'curry in his battle of magh leana (dublin, ); but the other name digdi would seem to stand in the way. however none of the literature in point has yet been discovered in any really old manuscript, and it may be that the place-name berre, in caillech bérri, has usurped the place of the personal name béra, whose antiquity in some such a form as béra or méra is proved by its honorific form mo-mera: see o'curry's volume, p. , and his introduction, p. xx. _say this_ _three times, with your eyes shut_ [illustration: gaelic] _and you will see_ _what you will see_ [illustration: the sea maiden] celtic folk and fairy tales selected and edited by joseph jacobs editor of "folk-lore" illustrated by john d. batten g. p. putnam's sons new york and london * * * * * to alfred nutt * * * * * preface last year, in giving the young ones a volume of english fairy tales, my difficulty was one of collection. this time, in offering them specimens of the rich folk-fancy of the celts of these islands, my trouble has rather been one of selection. ireland began to collect her folk-tales almost as early as any country in europe, and croker has found a whole school of successors in carleton, griffin, kennedy, curtin, and douglas hyde. scotland had the great name of campbell, and has still efficient followers in macdougall, macinnes, carmichael, macleod, and campbell of tiree. gallant little wales has no name to rank alongside these; in this department the cymru have shown less vigour than the gaedhel. perhaps the eisteddfod, by offering prizes for the collection of welsh folk-tales, may remove this inferiority. meanwhile wales must be content to be somewhat scantily represented among the fairy tales of the celts, while the extinct cornish tongue has only contributed one tale. in making my selection i have chiefly tried to make the stories characteristic. it would have been easy, especially from kennedy, to have made up a volume entirely filled with "grimm's goblins" _á la celtique_. but one can have too much even of that very good thing, and i have therefore avoided as far as possible the more familiar "formulæ" of folk-tale literature. to do this i had to withdraw from the english-speaking pale both in scotland and ireland, and i laid down the rule to include only tales that have been taken down from celtic peasants ignorant of english. having laid down the rule, i immediately proceeded to break it. the success of a fairy book, i am convinced, depends on the due admixture of the comic and the romantic: grimm and asbjörnsen knew the secret, and they alone. but the celtic peasant who speaks gaelic takes the pleasure of telling tales somewhat sadly: so far as he has been printed and translated, i found him, to my surprise, conspicuously lacking in humour. for the comic relief of this volume i have therefore had to turn mainly to the irish peasant of the pale; and what richer source could i draw from? for the more romantic tales i have depended on the gaelic, and, as i know about as much of gaelic as an irish nationalist m.p., i have had to depend on translators. but i have felt myself more at liberty than the translators themselves, who have generally been over-literal, in changing, excising, or modifying the original. i have even gone further. in order that the tales should be characteristically celtic, i have paid more particular attention to tales that are to be found on both sides of the north channel. in re-telling them i have had no scruple in interpolating now and then a scotch incident into an irish variant of the same story, or _vice versâ_. where the translators appealed to english folk-lorists and scholars, i am trying to attract english children. they translated; i endeavoured to transfer. in short, i have tried to put myself into the position of an _ollamh_ or _sheenachie_ familiar with both forms of gaelic, and anxious to put his stories in the best way to attract english children. i trust i shall be forgiven by celtic scholars for the changes i have had to make to effect this end. the stories collected in this volume are longer and more detailed than the english ones i brought together last christmas. the romantic ones are certainly more romantic, and the comic ones perhaps more comic, though there may be room for a difference of opinion on this latter point. this superiority of the celtic folk-tales is due as much to the conditions under which they have been collected, as to any innate superiority of the folk-imagination. the folk-tale in england is in the last stages of exhaustion. the celtic folk-tales have been collected while the practice of story-telling is still in full vigour, though there is every sign that its term of life is already numbered. the more the reason why they should be collected and put on record while there is yet time. on the whole, the industry of the collectors of celtic folk-lore is to be commended, as may be seen from the survey of it i have prefixed to the notes and references at the end of the volume. among these, i would call attention to the study of the legend of beth gellert, the origin of which, i believe, i have settled. while i have endeavoured to render the language of the tales simple and free from bookish artifice, i have not felt at liberty to re-tell the tales in the english way. i have not scrupled to retain a celtic turn of speech, and here and there a celtic word, which i have _not_ explained within brackets--a practice to be abhorred of all good men. a few words unknown to the reader only add effectiveness and local colour to a narrative, as mr. kipling well knows. one characteristic of the celtic folk-tale i have endeavoured to represent in my selection, because it is nearly unique at the present day in europe. nowhere else is there so large and consistent a body of oral tradition about the national and mythical heroes as amongst the gaels. only the _byline_, or hero-songs of russia, equal in extent the amount of knowledge about the heroes of the past that still exists among the gaelic-speaking peasantry of scotland and ireland. and the irish tales and ballads have this peculiarity, that some of them have been extant, and can be traced for well nigh a thousand years. i have selected as a specimen of this class the story of deirdre, collected among the scotch peasantry a few years ago, into which i have been able to insert a passage taken from an irish vellum of the twelfth century. i could have more than filled this volume with similar oral traditions about finn (the fingal of macpherson's "ossian"). but the story of finn, as told by the gaelic peasantry of to-day, deserves a volume by itself, while the adventures of the ultonian hero, cuchulain, could easily fill another. i have endeavoured to include in this volume the best and most typical stories told by the chief masters of the celtic folk-tale, campbell, kennedy, hyde, and curtin, and to these i have added the best tales scattered elsewhere. by this means i hope i have put together a volume, containing both the best, and the best known folk-tales of the celts. i have only been enabled to do this by the courtesy of those who owned the copyright of these stories. lady wilde has kindly granted me the use of her effective version of "the horned women"; and i have specially to thank messrs. macmillan for right to use kennedy's _legendary fictions_, and messrs. sampson low & co., for the use of mr. curtin's tales. in making my selection, and in all doubtful points of treatment, i have had resource to the wide knowledge of my friend mr. alfred nutt in all branches of celtic folk-lore. if this volume does anything to represent to english children the vision and colour, the magic and charm, of the celtic folk-imagination, this is due in large measure to the care with which mr. nutt has watched its inception and progress. with him by my side i could venture into regions where the non-celt wanders at his own risk. lastly, i have again to rejoice in the co-operation of my friend, mr. j. d. batten, in giving form to the creations of the folk-fancy. he has endeavoured in his illustrations to retain as much as possible of celtic ornamentation; for all details of celtic archæology he has authority. yet both he and i have striven to give celtic things as they appear to, and attract, the english mind, rather than attempt the hopeless task of representing them as they are to celts. the fate of the celt in the british empire bids fair to resemble that of the greeks among the romans. "they went forth to battle, but they always fell," yet the captive celt has enslaved his captor in the realm of imagination. the present volume attempts to begin the pleasant captivity from the earliest years. if it could succeed in giving a common fund of imaginative wealth to the celtic and the saxon children of these isles, it might do more for a true union of hearts than all your politics. joseph jacobs. * * * * * contents page i. connla and the fairy maiden ii. guleesh iii. the field of boliauns iv. the horned women v. conall yellowclaw vi. hudden and dudden and donald o'neary vii. the shepherd of myddvai viii. the sprightly tailor ix. the story of deirdre x. munachar and manachar xi. gold-tree and silver-tree xii. king o'toole and his goose xiii. the wooing of olwen xiv. jack and his comrades xv. the shee an gannon and the gruagach gaire xvi. the story-teller at fault xvii. the sea-maiden xviii. a legend of knockmany xix. fair, brown, and trembling xx. jack and his master xxi. beth gellert xxii. the tale of ivan xxiii. andrew coffey xxiv. the battle of the birds xxv. brewery of eggshells xxvi. the lad with the goat-skin notes and references * * * * * full-page illustrations page the sea-maiden _frontispiece_ connla and the fairy maiden conal yellowclaw deirdre the eagle of errio abwy "trembling" at the church door thatching with birds' feathers caution to readers (full-page illustrations, initials, and cuts, from blocks supplied by messrs. j. c. drummond & co.) * * * * * celtic fairy tales connla and the fairy maiden connla of the fiery hair was son of conn of the hundred fights. one day as he stood by the side of his father on the height of usna, he saw a maiden clad in strange attire towards him coming. "whence comest thou, maiden?" said connla. "i come from the plains of the ever living," she said, "there where is neither death nor sin. there we keep holiday alway, nor need we help from any in our joy. and in all our pleasure we have no strife. and because we have our homes in the round green hills, men call us the hill folk." the king and all with him wondered much to hear a voice when they saw no one. for save connla alone, none saw the fairy maiden. "to whom art thou talking, my son?" said conn the king. then the maiden answered, "connla speaks to a young, fair maid, whom neither death nor old age awaits. i love connla, and now i call him away to the plain of pleasure, moy mell, where boadag is king for aye, nor has there been sorrow or complaint in that land since he held the kingship. oh, come with me, connla of the fiery hair, ruddy as the dawn, with thy tawny skin. a fairy crown awaits thee to grace thy comely face and royal form. come, and never shall thy comeliness fade, nor thy youth, till the last awful day of judgment." the king in fear at what the maiden said, which he heard though he could not see her, called aloud to his druid, coran by name. "o coran of the many spells," he said, "and of the cunning magic, i call upon thy aid. a task is upon me too great for all my skill and wit, greater than any laid upon me since i seized the kingship. a maiden unseen has met us, and by her power would take from me my dear, my comely son. if thou help not, he will be taken from thy king by woman's wiles and witchery." then coran the druid stood forth and chanted his spells towards the spot where the maiden's voice had been heard. and none heard her voice again, nor could connla see her longer. only as she vanished before the druid's mighty spell, she threw an apple to connla. for a whole month from that day connla would take nothing, either to eat or to drink, save only from that apple. but as he ate it grew again and always kept whole. and all the while there grew within him a mighty yearning and longing after the maiden he had seen. but when the last day of the month of waiting came, connla stood by the side of the king his father on the plain of arcomin, and again he saw the maiden come towards him, and again she spoke to him. "'tis a glorious place, forsooth, that connla holds among shortlived mortals awaiting the day of death. but now the folk of life, the ever-living ones, beg and bid thee come to moy mell, the plain of pleasure, for they have learnt to know thee, seeing thee in thy home among thy dear ones." when conn the king heard the maiden's voice he called to his men aloud and said: "summon swift my druid coran, for i see she has again this day the power of speech." then the maiden said: "o mighty conn, fighter of a hundred fights, the druid's power is little loved; it has little honour in the mighty land, peopled with so many of the upright. when the law comes, it will do away with the druid's magic spells that issue from the lips of the false black demon." then conn the king observed that since the coming of the maiden connla his son spoke to none that spake to him. so conn of the hundred fights said to him, "is it to thy mind what the woman says, my son?" "'tis hard upon me," said connla; "i love my own folk above all things; but yet a longing seizes me for the maiden." when the maiden heard this, she answered and said: "the ocean is not so strong as the waves of thy longing. come with me in my curragh, the gleaming, straight-gliding crystal canoe. soon can we reach boadag's realm. i see the bright sun sink, yet far as it is, we can reach it before dark. there is, too, another land worthy of thy journey, a land joyous to all that seek it. only wives and maidens dwell there. if thou wilt, we can seek it and live there alone together in joy." when the maiden ceased to speak, connla of the fiery hair rushed away from his kinsmen and sprang into the curragh, the gleaming, straight-gliding crystal canoe. and then they all, king and court, saw it glide away over the bright sea towards the setting sun, away and away, till eye could see it no longer. so connla and the fairy maiden went forth on the sea, and were no more seen, nor did any know whither they came. [illustration: connla and the fairy maiden] guleesh there was once a boy in the county mayo; guleesh was his name. there was the finest rath a little way off from the gable of the house, and he was often in the habit of seating himself on the fine grass bank that was running round it. one night he stood, half leaning against the gable of the house, and looking up into the sky, and watching the beautiful white moon over his head. after he had been standing that way for a couple of hours, he said to himself: "my bitter grief that i am not gone away out of this place altogether. i'd sooner be any place in the world than here. och, it's well for you, white moon," says he, "that's turning round, turning round, as you please yourself, and no man can put you back. i wish i was the same as you." hardly was the word out of his mouth when he heard a great noise coming like the sound of many people running together, and talking, and laughing, and making sport, and the sound went by him like a whirl of wind, and he was listening to it going into the rath. "musha, by my soul," says he, "but ye're merry enough, and i'll follow ye." what was in it but the fairy host, though he did not know at first that it was they who were in it, but he followed them into the rath. it's there he heard the _fulparnee_, and the _folpornee_, the _rap-lay-hoota_, and the _roolya-boolya_, that they had there, and every man of them crying out as loud as he could: "my horse, and bridle, and saddle! my horse, and bridle, and saddle!" "by my hand," said guleesh, "my boy, that's not bad. i'll imitate ye," and he cried out as well as they: "my horse, and bridle, and saddle! my horse, and bridle, and saddle!" and on the moment there was a fine horse with a bridle of gold, and a saddle of silver, standing before him. he leaped up on it, and the moment he was on its back he saw clearly that the rath was full of horses, and of little people going riding on them. said a man of them to him: "are you coming with us to-night, guleesh?" "i am surely," said guleesh. "if you are, come along," said the little man, and out they went all together, riding like the wind, faster than the fastest horse ever you saw a-hunting, and faster than the fox and the hounds at his tail. the cold winter's wind that was before them, they overtook her, and the cold winter's wind that was behind them, she did not overtake them. and stop nor stay of that full race, did they make none, until they came to the brink of the sea. then every one of them said: "hie over cap! hie over cap!" and that moment they were up in the air, and before guleesh had time to remember where he was they were down on dry land again, and were going like the wind. at last they stood still, and a man of them said to guleesh: "guleesh, do you know where you are now?" "not a know," says guleesh. "you're in france, guleesh," said he. "the daughter of the king of france is to be married to-night, the handsomest woman that the sun ever saw, and we must do our best to bring her with us, if we're only able to carry her off; and you must come with us that we may be able to put the young girl up behind you on the horse, when we'll be bringing her away, for it's not lawful for us to put her sitting behind ourselves. but you're flesh and blood, and she can take a good grip of you, so that she won't fall off the horse. are you satisfied, guleesh, and will you do what we're telling you?" "why shouldn't i be satisfied?" said guleesh. "i'm satisfied, surely, and anything that ye will tell me to do i'll do it without doubt." they got off their horses there, and a man of them said a word that guleesh did not understand, and on the moment they were lifted up, and guleesh found himself and his companions in the palace. there was a great feast going on there, and there was not a nobleman or a gentleman in the kingdom but was gathered there, dressed in silk and satin, and gold and silver, and the night was as bright as the day with all the lamps and candles that were lit, and guleesh had to shut his two eyes at the brightness. when he opened them again and looked from him he thought he never saw anything as fine as all he saw there. there were a hundred tables spread out, and their full of meat and drink on each table of them, flesh-meat, and cakes and sweetmeats, and wine and ale, and every drink that ever a man saw. the musicians were at the two ends of the hall, and they were playing the sweetest music that ever a man's ear heard, and there were young women and fine youths in the middle of the hall, dancing and turning, and going round so quickly and so lightly, that it put a _soorawn_ in guleesh's head to be looking at them. there were more there playing tricks, and more making fun and laughing, for such a feast as there was that day had not been in france for twenty years, because the old king had no children alive but only the one daughter, and she was to be married to the son of another king that night. three days the feast was going on, and the third night she was to be married, and that was the night that guleesh and the sheehogues came, hoping, if they could, to carry off with them the king's young daughter. guleesh and his companions were standing together at the head of the hall, where there was a fine altar dressed up, and two bishops behind it waiting to marry the girl, as soon as the right time should come. now nobody could see the sheehogues, for they said a word as they came in, that made them all invisible, as if they had not been in it at all. "tell me which of them is the king's daughter," said guleesh, when he was becoming a little used to the noise and the light. "don't you see her there away from you?" said the little man that he was talking to. guleesh looked where the little man was pointing with his finger, and there he saw the loveliest woman that was, he thought, upon the ridge of the world. the rose and the lily were fighting together in her face, and one could not tell which of them got the victory. her arms and hands were like the lime, her mouth as red as a strawberry when it is ripe, her foot was as small and as light as another one's hand, her form was smooth and slender, and her hair was falling down from her head in buckles of gold. her garments and dress were woven with gold and silver, and the bright stone that was in the ring on her hand was as shining as the sun. guleesh was nearly blinded with all the loveliness and beauty that was on her; but when he looked again, he saw that she was crying, and that there was the trace of tears in her eyes. "it can't be," said guleesh, "that there's grief on her, when everybody round her is so full of sport and merriment." "musha, then, she is grieved," said the little man; "for it's against her own will she's marrying, and she has no love for the husband she is to marry. the king was going to give her to him three years ago, when she was only fifteen, but she said she was too young, and requested him to leave her as she was yet. the king gave her a year's grace, and when that year was up he gave her another year's grace, and then another; but a week or a day he would not give her longer, and she is eighteen years old to-night, and it's time for her to marry; but, indeed," says he, and he crooked his mouth in an ugly way--"indeed, it's no king's son she'll marry, if i can help it." guleesh pitied the handsome young lady greatly when he heard that, and he was heart-broken to think that it would be necessary for her to marry a man she did not like, or what was worse, to take a nasty sheehogue for a husband. however, he did not say a word, though he could not help giving many a curse to the ill-luck that was laid out for himself, to be helping the people that were to snatch her away from her home and from her father. he began thinking, then, what it was he ought to do to save her, but he could think of nothing. "oh! if i could only give her some help and relief," said he, "i wouldn't care whether i were alive or dead; but i see nothing that i can do for her." he was looking on when the king's son came up to her and asked her for a kiss, but she turned her head away from him. guleesh had double pity for her then, when he saw the lad taking her by the soft white hand, and drawing her out to dance. they went round in the dance near where guleesh was, and he could plainly see that there were tears in her eyes. when the dancing was over, the old king, her father, and her mother the queen, came up and said that this was the right time to marry her, that the bishop was ready, and it was time to put the wedding-ring on her and give her to her husband. the king took the youth by the hand, and the queen took her daughter, and they went up together to the altar, with the lords and great people following them. [illustration:] when they came near the altar, and were no more than about four yards from it, the little sheehogue stretched out his foot before the girl, and she fell. before she was able to rise again he threw something that was in his hand upon her, said a couple of words, and upon the moment the maiden was gone from amongst them. nobody could see her, for that word made her invisible. the little man_een_ seized her and raised her up behind guleesh, and the king nor no one else saw them, but out with them through the hall till they came to the door. oro! dear mary! it's there the pity was, and the trouble, and the crying, and the wonder, and the searching, and the _rookawn_, when that lady disappeared from their eyes, and without their seeing what did it. out of the door of the palace they went, without being stopped or hindered, for nobody saw them, and, "my horse, my bridle, and saddle!" says every man of them. "my horse, my bridle, and saddle!" says guleesh; and on the moment the horse was standing ready caparisoned before him. "now, jump up, guleesh," said the little man, "and put the lady behind you, and we will be going; the morning is not far off from us now." guleesh raised her up on the horse's back, and leaped up himself before her, and, "rise, horse," said he; and his horse, and the other horses with him, went in a full race until they came to the sea. "hie over cap!" said every man of them. "hie over cap!" said guleesh; and on the moment the horse rose under him, and cut a leap in the clouds, and came down in erin. they did not stop there, but went of a race to the place where was guleesh's house and the rath. and when they came as far as that, guleesh turned and caught the young girl in his two arms, and leaped off the horse. "i call and cross you to myself, in the name of god!" said he; and on the spot, before the word was out of his mouth, the horse fell down, and what was in it but the beam of a plough, of which they had made a horse; and every other horse they had, it was that way they made it. some of them were riding on an old besom, and some on a broken stick, and more on a _bohalawn_ or a hemlock-stalk. the good people called out together when they heard what guleesh said: "o guleesh, you clown, you thief, that no good may happen you! why did you play that trick on us?" but they had no power at all to carry off the girl, after guleesh had consecrated her to himself. "o guleesh, isn't that a nice turn you did us, and we so kind to you? what good have we now out of our journey to france? never mind yet, you clown, but you'll pay us another time for this. believe us, you'll repent it." "he'll have no good to get out of the young girl," said the little man that was talking to him in the palace before that, and as he said the word he moved over to her and struck her a slap on the side of the head. "now," says he, "she'll be without talk any more; now, guleesh, what good will she be to you when she'll be dumb? it's time for us to go--but you'll remember us, guleesh!" when he said that he stretched out his two hands, and before guleesh was able to give an answer, he and the rest of them were gone into the rath out of his sight, and he saw them no more. he turned to the young woman and said to her: "thanks be to god, they're gone. would you not sooner stay with me than with them?" she gave him no answer. "there's trouble and grief on her yet," said guleesh in his own mind, and he spoke to her again: "i am afraid that you must spend this night in my father's house, lady, and if there is anything that i can do for you, tell me, and i'll be your servant." the beautiful girl remained silent, but there were tears in her eyes, and her face was white and red after each other. "lady," said guleesh, "tell me what you would like me to do now. i never belonged at all to that lot of sheehogues who carried you away with them. i am the son of an honest farmer, and i went with them without knowing it. if i'll be able to send you back to your father i'll do it, and i pray you make any use of me now that you may wish." he looked into her face, and saw the mouth moving as if she were going to speak, but there came no word from it. "it cannot be," said guleesh, "that you are dumb. did i not hear you speaking to the king's son in the palace to-night? or has that devil made you really dumb, when he struck his nasty hand on your jaw?" the girl raised her white smooth hand, and laid her finger on her tongue, to show him that she had lost her voice and power of speech, and the tears ran out of her two eyes like streams, and guleesh's own eyes were not dry, for as rough as he was on the outside he had a soft heart, and could not stand the sight of the young girl, and she in that unhappy plight. he began thinking with himself what he ought to do, and he did not like to bring her home with himself to his father's house, for he knew well that they would not believe him, that he had been in france and brought back with him the king of france's daughter, and he was afraid they might make a mock of the young lady or insult her. as he was doubting what he ought to do, and hesitating, he chanced to remember the priest. "glory be to god," said he, "i know now what i'll do; i'll bring her to the priest's house, and he won't refuse me to keep the lady and care for her." he turned to the lady again and told her that he was loth to take her to his father's house, but that there was an excellent priest very friendly to himself, who would take good care of her, if she wished to remain in his house; but that if there was any other place she would rather go, he said he would bring her to it. she bent her head, to show him she was obliged, and gave him to understand that she was ready to follow him to any place he was going. "we will go to the priest's house, then," said he; "he is under an obligation to me, and will do anything i ask him." they went together accordingly to the priest's house, and the sun was just rising when they came to the door. guleesh beat it hard, and as early as it was the priest was up, and opened the door himself. he wondered when he saw guleesh and the girl, for he was certain that it was coming wanting to be married they were. "guleesh, guleesh, isn't it the nice boy you are that you can't wait till ten o'clock or till twelve, but that you must be coming to me at this hour, looking for marriage, you and your sweetheart? you ought to know that i can't marry you at such a time, or, at all events, can't marry you lawfully. but ubbubboo!" said he, suddenly, as he looked again at the young girl, "in the name of god, who have you here? who is she, or how did you get her?" "father," said guleesh, "you can marry me, or anybody else, if you wish; but it's not looking for marriage i came to you now, but to ask you, if you please, to give a lodging in your house to this young lady." the priest looked at him as though he had ten heads on him; but without putting any other question to him, he desired him to come in, himself and the maiden, and when they came in, he shut the door, brought them into the parlour, and put them sitting. "now, guleesh," said he, "tell me truly who is this young lady, and whether you're out of your senses really, or are only making a joke of me." "i'm not telling a word of lie, nor making a joke of you," said guleesh; "but it was from the palace of the king of france i carried off this lady, and she is the daughter of the king of france." he began his story then, and told the whole to the priest, and the priest was so much surprised that he could not help calling out at times, or clapping his hands together. when guleesh said from what he saw he thought the girl was not satisfied with the marriage that was going to take place in the palace before he and the sheehogues broke it up, there came a red blush into the girl's cheek, and he was more certain than ever that she had sooner be as she was--badly off as she was--than be the married wife of the man she hated. when guleesh said that he would be very thankful to the priest if he would keep her in his own house, the kind man said he would do that as long as guleesh pleased, but that he did not know what they ought to do with her, because they had no means of sending her back to her father again. guleesh answered that he was uneasy about the same thing, and that he saw nothing to do but to keep quiet until they should find some opportunity of doing something better. they made it up then between themselves that the priest should let on that it was his brother's daughter he had, who was come on a visit to him from another county, and that he should tell everybody that she was dumb, and do his best to keep every one away from her. they told the young girl what it was they intended to do, and she showed by her eyes that she was obliged to them. guleesh went home then, and when his people asked him where he had been, he said that he had been asleep at the foot of the ditch, and had passed the night there. there was great wonderment on the priest's neighbours at the girl who came so suddenly to his house without any one knowing where she was from, or what business she had there. some of the people said that everything was not as it ought to be, and others, that guleesh was not like the same man that was in it before, and that it was a great story, how he was drawing every day to the priest's house, and that the priest had a wish and a respect for him, a thing they could not clear up at all. that was true for them, indeed, for it was seldom the day went by but guleesh would go to the priest's house, and have a talk with him, and as often as he would come he used to hope to find the young lady well again, and with leave to speak; but, alas! she remained dumb and silent, without relief or cure. since she had no other means of talking, she carried on a sort of conversation between herself and himself, by moving her hand and fingers, winking her eyes, opening and shutting her mouth, laughing or smiling, and a thousand other signs, so that it was not long until they understood each other very well. guleesh was always thinking how he should send her back to her father; but there was no one to go with her, and he himself did not know what road to go, for he had never been out of his own country before the night he brought her away with him. nor had the priest any better knowledge than he; but when guleesh asked him, he wrote three or four letters to the king of france, and gave them to buyers and sellers of wares, who used to be going from place to place across the sea; but they all went astray, and never a one came to the king's hand. this was the way they were for many months, and guleesh was falling deeper and deeper in love with her every day, and it was plain to himself and the priest that she liked him. the boy feared greatly at last, lest the king should really hear where his daughter was, and take her back from himself, and he besought the priest to write no more, but to leave the matter to god. so they passed the time for a year, until there came a day when guleesh was lying by himself on the grass, on the last day of the last month in autumn, and he was thinking over again in his own mind of everything that happened to him from the day that he went with the sheehogues across the sea. he remembered then, suddenly, that it was one november night that he was standing at the gable of the house, when the whirlwind came, and the sheehogues in it, and he said to himself: "we have november night again to-day, and i'll stand in the same place i was last year, until i see if the good people come again. perhaps i might see or hear something that would be useful to me, and might bring back her talk again to mary"--that was the name himself and the priest called the king's daughter, for neither of them knew her right name. he told his intention to the priest, and the priest gave him his blessing. guleesh accordingly went to the old rath when the night was darkening, and he stood with his bent elbow leaning on a grey old flag, waiting till the middle of the night should come. the moon rose slowly, and it was like a knob of fire behind him; and there was a white fog which was raised up over the fields of grass and all damp places, through the coolness of the night after a great heat in the day. the night was calm as is a lake when there is not a breath of wind to move a wave on it, and there was no sound to be heard but the _cronawn_ of the insects that would go by from time to time, or the hoarse sudden scream of the wild-geese, as they passed from lake to lake, half a mile up in the air over his head; or the sharp whistle of the golden and green plover, rising and lying, lying and rising, as they do on a calm night. there were a thousand thousand bright stars shining over his head, and there was a little frost out, which left the grass under his foot white and crisp. he stood there for an hour, for two hours, for three hours, and the frost increased greatly, so that he heard the breaking of the _traneens_ under his foot as often as he moved. he was thinking, in his own mind, at last, that the sheehogues would not come that night, and that it was as good for him to return back again, when he heard a sound far away from him, coming towards him, and he recognised what it was at the first moment. the sound increased, and at first it was like the beating of waves on a stony shore, and then it was like the falling of a great waterfall, and at last it was like a loud storm in the tops of the trees, and then the whirlwind burst into the rath of one rout, and the sheehogues were in it. it all went by him so suddenly that he lost his breath with it, but he came to himself on the spot, and put an ear on himself, listening to what they would say. scarcely had they gathered into the rath till they all began shouting, and screaming, and talking amongst themselves; and then each one of them cried out: "my horse, and bridle, and saddle! my horse, and bridle, and saddle!" and guleesh took courage, and called out as loudly as any of them: "my horse, and bridle, and saddle! my horse, and bridle, and saddle!" but before the word was well out of his mouth, another man cried out: "ora! guleesh, my boy, are you here with us again? how are you getting on with your woman? there's no use in your calling for your horse to-night. i'll go bail you won't play such a trick on us again. it was a good trick you played on us last year." "it was," said another man; "he won't do it again." "isn't he a prime lad, the same lad! to take a woman with him that never said as much to him as, 'how do you do?' since this time last year!" says the third man. "perhaps he likes to be looking at her," said another voice. "and if the _omadawn_ only knew that there's an herb growing up by his own door, and if he were to boil it and give it to her, she'd be well," said another voice. "that's true for you." "he is an _omadawn_." "don't bother your head with him; we'll be going." "we'll leave the _bodach_ as he is." and with that they rose up into the air, and out with them with one _roolya-boolya_ the way they came; and they left poor guleesh standing where they found him, and the two eyes going out of his head, looking after them and wondering. [illustration:] he did not stand long till he returned back, and he thinking in his own mind on all he saw and heard, and wondering whether there was really an herb at his own door that would bring back the talk to the king's daughter. "it can't be," says he to himself, "that they would tell it to me, if there was any virtue in it; but perhaps the sheehogue didn't observe himself when he let the word slip out of his mouth. i'll search well as soon as the sun rises, whether there's any plant growing beside the house except thistles and dockings." he went home, and as tired as he was he did not sleep a wink until the sun rose on the morrow. he got up then, and it was the first thing he did to go out and search well through the grass round about the house, trying could he get any herb that he did not recognise. and, indeed, he was not long searching till he observed a large strange herb that was growing up just by the gable of the house. he went over to it, and observed it closely, and saw that there were seven little branches coming out of the stalk, and seven leaves growing on every brancheen of them; and that there was a white sap in the leaves. "it's very wonderful," said he to himself, "that i never noticed this herb before. if there's any virtue in an herb at all, it ought to be in such a strange one as this." he drew out his knife, cut the plant, and carried it into his own house; stripped the leaves off it and cut up the stalk; and there came a thick, white juice out of it, as there comes out of the sow-thistle when it is bruised, except that the juice was more like oil. he put it in a little pot and a little water in it, and laid it on the fire until the water was boiling, and then he took a cup, filled it half up with the juice, and put it to his own mouth. it came into his head then that perhaps it was poison that was in it, and that the good people were only tempting him that he might kill himself with that trick, or put the girl to death without meaning it. he put down the cup again, raised a couple of drops on the top of his finger, and put it to his mouth. it was not bitter, and, indeed, had a sweet, agreeable taste. he grew bolder then, and drank the full of a thimble of it, and then as much again, and he never stopped till he had half the cup drunk. he fell asleep after that, and did not wake till it was night, and there was great hunger and great thirst on him. [illustration:] he had to wait, then, till the day rose; but he determined, as soon as he should wake in the morning, that he would go to the king's daughter and give her a drink of the juice of the herb. as soon as he got up in the morning, he went over to the priest's house with the drink in his hand, and he never felt himself so bold and valiant, and spirited and light, as he was that day, and he was quite certain that it was the drink he drank which made him so hearty. when he came to the house, he found the priest and the young lady within, and they were wondering greatly why he had not visited them for two days. he told them all his news, and said that he was certain that there was great power in that herb, and that it would do the lady no hurt, for he tried it himself and got good from it, and then he made her taste it, for he vowed and swore that there was no harm in it. guleesh handed her the cup, and she drank half of it, and then fell back on her bed and a heavy sleep came on her, and she never woke out of that sleep till the day on the morrow. guleesh and the priest sat up the entire night with her, waiting till she should awake, and they between hope and unhope, between expectation of saving her and fear of hurting her. she awoke at last when the sun had gone half its way through the heavens. she rubbed her eyes and looked like a person who did not know where she was. she was like one astonished when she saw guleesh and the priest in the same room with her, and she sat up doing her best to collect her thoughts. the two men were in great anxiety waiting to see would she speak, or would she not speak, and when they remained silent for a couple of minutes, the priest said to her: "did you sleep well, mary?" and she answered him: "i slept, thank you." no sooner did guleesh hear her talking than he put a shout of joy out of him, and ran over to her and fell on his two knees, and said: "a thousand thanks to god, who has given you back the talk; lady of my heart, speak again to me." the lady answered him that she understood it was he who boiled that drink for her, and gave it to her; that she was obliged to him from her heart for all the kindness he showed her since the day she first came to ireland, and that he might be certain that she never would forget it. guleesh was ready to die with satisfaction and delight. then they brought her food, and she ate with a good appetite, and was merry and joyous, and never left off talking with the priest while she was eating. after that guleesh went home to his house, and stretched himself on the bed and fell asleep again, for the force of the herb was not all spent, and he passed another day and a night sleeping. when he woke up he went back to the priest's house, and found that the young lady was in the same state, and that she was asleep almost since the time that he left the house. he went into her chamber with the priest, and they remained watching beside her till she awoke the second time, and she had her talk as well as ever, and guleesh was greatly rejoiced. the priest put food on the table again and they ate together, and guleesh used after that to come to the house from day to day, and the friendship that was between him and the king's daughter increased, because she had no one to speak to except guleesh and the priest, and she liked guleesh best. so they married one another, and that was the fine wedding they had, and if i were to be there then, i would not be here now; but i heard it from a bird_een_ that there was neither cark nor care, sickness nor sorrow, mishap nor misfortune on them till the hour of their death, and may the same be with me, and with us all! [illustration:] the field of boliauns [illustration:] one fine day in harvest--it was indeed lady-day in harvest, that everybody knows to be one of the greatest holidays in the year--tom fitzpatrick was taking a ramble through the ground, and went along the sunny side of a hedge; when all of a sudden he heard a clacking sort of noise a little before him in the hedge. "dear me," said tom, "but isn't it surprising to hear the stone-chatters singing so late in the season?" so tom stole on, going on the tops of his toes to try if he could get a sight of what was making the noise, to see if he was right in his guess. the noise stopped; but as tom looked sharply through the bushes, what should he see in a nook of the hedge but a brown pitcher, that might hold about a gallon and a half of liquor; and by-and-by a little wee teeny tiny bit of an old man, with a little _motty_ of a cocked hat stuck upon the top of his head, a deeshy daushy leather apron hanging before him, pulled out a little wooden stool, and stood up upon it, and dipped a little piggin into the pitcher, and took out the full of it, and put it beside the stool, and then sat down under the pitcher, and began to work at putting a heel-piece on a bit of a brogue just fit for himself. "well, by the powers," said tom to himself, "i often heard tell of the lepracauns, and, to tell god's truth, i never rightly believed in them--but here's one of them in real earnest. if i go knowingly to work, i'm a made man. they say a body must never take their eyes off them, or they'll escape." tom now stole on a little further, with his eye fixed on the little man just as a cat does with a mouse. so when he got up quite close to him, "god bless your work, neighbour," said tom. the little man raised up his head, and "thank you kindly," said he. "i wonder you'd be working on the holiday!" said tom. "that's my own business, not yours," was the reply. "well, maybe you'd be civil enough to tell _us_ what you've got in the pitcher there?" said tom. "that i will, with pleasure," said he; "it's good beer." "beer!" said tom. "thunder and fire! where did you get it?" "where did i get it, is it? why, i made it. and what do you think i made it of?" "devil a one of me knows," said tom; "but of malt, i suppose, what else?" "there you're out. i made it of heath." "of heath!" said tom, bursting out laughing; "sure you don't think me to be such a fool as to believe that?" "do as you please," said he, "but what i tell you is the truth. did you never hear tell of the danes?" "well, what about _them_?" said tom. "why, all the about them there is, is that when they were here they taught us to make beer out of the heath, and the secret's in my family ever since." "will you give a body a taste of your beer?" said tom. "i'll tell you what it is, young man, it would be fitter for you to be looking after your father's property than to be bothering decent quiet people with your foolish questions. there now, while you're idling away your time here, there's the cows have broke into the oats, and are knocking the corn all about." tom was taken so by surprise with this that he was just on the very point of turning round when he recollected himself; so, afraid that the like might happen again, he made a grab at the lepracaun, and caught him up in his hand; but in his hurry he overset the pitcher, and spilt all the beer, so that he could not get a taste of it to tell what sort it was. he then swore that he would kill him if he did not show him where his money was. tom looked so wicked and so bloody-minded that the little man was quite frightened; so says he, "come along with me a couple of fields off, and i will show you a crock of gold." so they went, and tom held the lepracaun fast in his hand, and never took his eyes from off him, though they had to cross hedges and ditches, and a crooked bit of bog, till at last they came to a great field all full of boliauns, and the lepracaun pointed to a big boliaun, and says he, "dig under that boliaun, and you'll get the great crock all full of guineas." tom in his hurry had never thought of bringing a spade with him, so he made up his mind to run home and fetch one; and that he might know the place again he took off one of his red garters, and tied it round the boliaun. then he said to the lepracaun, "swear ye'll not take that garter away from that boliaun." and the lepracaun swore right away not to touch it. "i suppose," said the lepracaun, very civilly, "you have no further occasion for me?" "no," says tom; "you may go away now, if you please, and god speed you, and may good luck attend you wherever you go." "well, good-bye to you tom fitzpatrick," said the lepracaun; "and much good may it do you when you get it." so tom ran for dear life, till he came home and got a spade, and then away with him, as hard as he could go, back to the field of boliauns; but when he got there, lo and behold! not a boliaun in the field but had a red garter, the very model of his own, tied about it; and as to digging up the whole field, that was all nonsense, for there were more than forty good irish acres in it. so tom came home again with his spade on his shoulder, a little cooler than he went, and many's the hearty curse he gave the lepracaun every time he thought of the neat turn he had served him. the horned women [illustration:] a rich woman sat up late one night carding and preparing wool, while all the family and servants were asleep. suddenly a knock was given at the door, and a voice called, "open! open!" "who is there?" said the woman of the house. "i am the witch of one horn," was answered. the mistress, supposing that one of her neighbours had called and required assistance, opened the door, and a woman entered, having in her hand a pair of wool-carders, and bearing a horn on her forehead, as if growing there. she sat down by the fire in silence, and began to card the wool with violent haste. suddenly she paused, and said aloud: "where are the women? they delay too long." then a second knock came to the door, and a voice called as before, "open! open!" the mistress felt herself obliged to rise and open to the call, and immediately a second witch entered, having two horns on her forehead, and in her hand a wheel for spinning wool. "give me place," she said; "i am the witch of the two horns," and she began to spin as quick as lightning. and so the knocks went on, and the call was heard, and the witches entered, until at last twelve women sat round the fire--the first with one horn, the last with twelve horns. and they carded the thread, and turned their spinning-wheels, and wound and wove, all singing together an ancient rhyme, but no word did they speak to the mistress of the house. strange to hear, and frightful to look upon, were these twelve women, with their horns and their wheels; and the mistress felt near to death, and she tried to rise that she might call for help, but she could not move, nor could she utter a word or a cry, for the spell of the witches was upon her. then one of them called to her in irish, and said, "rise, woman, and make us a cake." then the mistress searched for a vessel to bring water from the well that she might mix the meal and make the cake, but she could find none. and they said to her, "take a sieve and bring water in it." and she took the sieve and went to the well; but the water poured from it, and she could fetch none for the cake, and she sat down by the well and wept. then a voice came by her and said, "take yellow clay and moss, and bind them together, and plaster the sieve so that it will hold." this she did, and the sieve held the water for the cake; and the voice said again: "return, and when thou comest to the north angle of the house, cry aloud three times and say, 'the mountain of the fenian women and the sky over it is all on fire.'" and she did so. when the witches inside heard the call, a great and terrible cry broke from their lips, and they rushed forth with wild lamentations and shrieks, and fled away to slievenamon, where was their chief abode. but the spirit of the well bade the mistress of the house to enter and prepare her home against the enchantments of the witches if they returned again. and first, to break their spells, she sprinkled the water in which she had washed her child's feet, the feet-water, outside the door on the threshold; secondly, she took the cake which in her absence the witches had made of meal mixed with the blood drawn from the sleeping family, and she broke the cake in bits, and placed a bit in the mouth of each sleeper, and they were restored; and she took the cloth they had woven, and placed it half in and half out of the chest with the padlock; and lastly, she secured the door with a great crossbeam fastened in the jambs, so that the witches could not enter, and having done these things she waited. not long were the witches in coming back, and they raged and called for vengeance. "open! open!" they screamed; "open, feet-water!" "i cannot," said the feet-water; "i am scattered on the ground, and my path is down to the lough." "open, open, wood and trees and beam!" they cried to the door. "i cannot," said the door, "for the beam is fixed in the jambs and i have no power to move." "open, open, cake that we have made and mingled with blood!" they cried again. "i cannot," said the cake, "for i am broken and bruised, and my blood is on the lips of the sleeping children." then the witches rushed through the air with great cries, and fled back to slievenamon, uttering strange curses on the spirit of the well, who had wished their ruin; but the woman and the house were left in peace, and a mantle dropped by one of the witches in her flight was kept hung up by the mistress in memory of that night; and this mantle was kept by the same family from generation to generation for five hundred years after. conall yellowclaw conall yellowclaw was a sturdy tenant in erin: he had three sons. there was at that time a king over every fifth of erin. it fell out for the children of the king that was near conall, that they themselves and the children of conall came to blows. the children of conall got the upper hand, and they killed the king's big son. the king sent a message for conall, and he said to him: "o conall! what made your sons go to spring on my sons till my big son was killed by your children? but i see that though i follow you revengefully, i shall not be much better for it, and i will now set a thing before you, and if you will do it, i will not follow you with revenge. if you and your sons will get me the brown horse of the king of lochlann, you shall get the souls of your sons." "why," said conall, "should not i do the pleasure of the king, though there should be no souls of my sons in dread at all? hard is the matter you require of me, but i will lose my own life, and the life of my sons, or else i will do the pleasure of the king." after these words conall left the king, and he went home: when he got home he was under much trouble and perplexity. when he went to lie down he told his wife the thing the king had set before him. his wife took much sorrow that he was obliged to part from herself, while she knew not if she should see him more. "o conall," said she, "why didst not thou let the king do his own pleasure to thy sons, rather than be going now, while i know not if ever i shall see thee more?" when he rose on the morrow, he set himself and his three sons in order, and they took their journey towards lochlann, and they made no stop but tore through ocean till they reached it. when they reached lochlann they did not know what they should do. said the old man to his sons, "stop ye, and we will seek out the house of the king's miller." when they went to the house of the king's miller, the man asked them to stop there for the night. conall told the miller that his own children and the children of his king had fallen out, and that his children had killed the king's son, and there was nothing that would please the king but that he should get the brown horse of the king of lochlann. "if you will do me a kindness, and will put me in a way to get him, for certain i will pay ye for it." "the thing is silly that you are come to seek," said the miller; "for the king has laid his mind on him so greatly that you will not get him in any way unless you steal him; but if you can make out a way, i will keep it secret." "this is what i am thinking," said conall, "since you are working every day for the king, you and your gillies could put myself and my sons into four sacks of bran." "the plan that has come into your head is not bad," said the miller. the miller spoke to his gillies, and he said to them to do this, and they put them in four sacks. the king's gillies came to seek the bran, and they took the four sacks with them, and they emptied them before the horses. the servants locked the door, and they went away. when they rose to lay hand on the brown horse, said conall, "you shall not do that. it is hard to get out of this; let us make for ourselves four hiding holes, so that if they hear us we may go and hide." they made the holes, then they laid hands on the horse. the horse was pretty well unbroken, and he set to making a terrible noise through the stable. the king heard the noise. "it must be my brown horse," said he to his gillies; "find out what is wrong with him." the servants went out, and when conall and his sons saw them coming they went into the hiding holes. the servants looked amongst the horses, and they did not find anything wrong; and they returned and they told this to the king, and the king said to them that if nothing was wrong they should go to their places of rest. when the gillies had time to be gone, conall and his sons laid their hands again on the horse. if the noise was great that he made before, the noise that he made now was seven times greater. the king sent a message for his gillies again, and said for certain there was something troubling the brown horse. "go and look well about him." the servants went out, and the others went to their hiding holes. the servants rummaged well, and did not find a thing. they returned and they told this. "that is marvellous for me," said the king: "go you to lie down again, and if i notice it again i will go out myself." when conall and his sons perceived that the gillies were gone, they laid hands again on the horse, and one of them caught him; and if the noise that the horse made on the two former times was great, he made more this time. "be this from me," said the king; "it must be that some one is troubling my brown horse." he sounded the bell hastily, and when his waiting-man came to him, he said to him to let the stable gillies know that something was wrong with the horse. the gillies came, and the king went with them. when conall and his sons perceived the company coming they went to the hiding holes. the king was a wary man, and he saw where the horses were making a noise. "be wary," said the king, "there are men within the stable, let us get at them somehow." the king followed the tracks of the men, and he found them. every one knew conall, for he was a valued tenant of the king of erin, and when the king brought them up out of the holes he said, "o conall, is it you that are here?" "i am, o king, without question, and necessity made me come. i am under thy pardon, and under thine honour, and under thy grace." he told how it happened to him, and that he had to get the brown horse for the king of erin, or that his sons were to be put to death. "i knew that i should not get him by asking, and i was going to steal him." "yes, conall, it is well enough, but come in," said the king. he desired his look-out men to set a watch on the sons of conall, and to give them meat. and a double watch was set that night on the sons of conall. "now, o conall," said the king, "were you ever in a harder place than to be seeing your lot of sons hanged to-morrow? but you set it to my goodness and to my grace, and say that it was necessity brought it on you, so i must not hang you. tell me any case in which you were as hard as this, and if you tell that, you shall get the soul of your youngest son." "i will tell a case as hard in which i was," said conall. "i was once a young lad, and my father had much land, and he had parks of year-old cows, and one of them had just calved, and my father told me to bring her home. i found the cow, and took her with us. there fell a shower of snow. we went into the herd's bothy, and we took the cow and the calf in with us, and we were letting the shower pass from us. who should come in but one cat and ten, and one great one-eyed fox-coloured cat as head bard over them. when they came in, in very deed i myself had no liking for their company. 'strike up with you,' said the head bard, 'why should we be still? and sing a cronan to conall yellowclaw.' i was amazed that my name was known to the cats themselves, when they had sung the cronan, said the head bard, 'now, o conall, pay the reward of the cronan that the cats have sung to thee.' 'well then,' said i myself, 'i have no reward whatsoever for you, unless you should go down and take that calf.' no sooner said i the word than the two cats and ten went down to attack the calf, and in very deed, he did not last them long. 'play up with you, why should you be silent? make a cronan to conall yellowclaw,' said the head bard. i had no liking at all for the cronan, but up came the one cat and ten, and if they did not sing me a cronan then and there! 'pay them now their reward,' said the great fox-coloured cat. 'i am tired myself of yourselves and your rewards,' said i. 'i have no reward for you unless you take that cow down there.' they betook themselves to the cow, and indeed she did not last them long. [illustration:] "'why will you be silent? go up and sing a cronan to conall yellowclaw,' said the head bard. and surely, o king, i had no care for them or for their cronan, for i began to see that they were not good comrades. when they had sung me the cronan they betook themselves down where the head bard was. 'pay now their reward,' said the head bard; and for sure, o king, i had no reward for them; and i said to them, 'i have no reward for you.' and surely, o king, there was a catterwauling between them. so i leapt out at a turf window that was at the back of the house. i took myself off as hard as i might into the wood. i was swift enough and strong at that time; and when i felt the rustling toirm of the cats after me i climbed into as high a tree as i saw in the place, and one that was close in the top; and i hid myself as well as i might. the cats began to search for me through the wood, and they could not find me; and when they were tired, each one said to the other that they would turn back. 'but,' said the one-eyed fox-coloured cat that was commander-in-chief over them, 'you saw him not with your two eyes, and though i have but one eye, there's the rascal up in the tree.' when he had said that, one of them went up in the tree, and as he was coming where i was, i drew a weapon that i had and i killed him. 'be this from me!' said the one-eyed one--'i must not be losing my company thus; gather round the root of the tree and dig about it, and let down that villain to earth.' on this they gathered about the tree, and they dug about the root, and the first branching root that they cut, she gave a shiver to fall, and i myself gave a shout and it was not to be wondered at. there was in the neighbourhood of the wood a priest, and he had ten men with him delving, and he said, 'there is a shout of a man in extremity and i must not be without replying to it.' and the wisest of the men said, 'let it alone till we hear it again.' the cats began again digging wildly, and they broke the next root; and i myself gave the next shout, and in very deed it was not a weak one. 'certainly,' said the priest, 'it is a man in extremity--let us move.' they set themselves in order for moving. and the cats arose on the tree, and they broke the third root, and the tree fell on her elbow. then i gave the third shout. the stalwart men hastened, and when they saw how the cats served the tree, they began at them with the spades; and they themselves and the cats began at each other, till the cats ran away. and surely, o king, i did not move till i saw the last one of them off. and then i came home. and there's the hardest case in which i ever was; and it seems to me that tearing by the cats were harder than hanging to-morrow by the king of lochlann." "och! conall," said the king, "you are full of words. you have freed the soul of your son with your tale; and if you tell me a harder case than that you will get your second youngest son, and then you will have two sons." "well then," said conall, "on condition that thou dost that, i will tell thee how i was once in a harder case than to be in thy power in prison to-night." "let's hear," said the king. "i was then," said conall, quite a young lad, and i went out hunting, and my father's land was beside the sea, and it was rough with rocks, caves, and rifts. when i was going on the top of the shore, i saw as if there were a smoke coming up between two rocks, and i began to look what might be the meaning of the smoke coming up there. when i was looking, what should i do but fall; and the place was so full of heather, that neither bone nor skin was broken. i knew not how i should get out of this. i was not looking before me, but i kept looking overhead the way i came--and thinking that the day would never come that i could get up there. it was terrible for me to be there till i should die. i heard a great clattering, coming, and what was there but a great giant and two dozen of goats with him, and a buck at their head. and when the giant had tied the goats, he came up and he said to me, 'hao o! conall, it's long since my knife has been rusting in my pouch waiting for thy tender flesh.' 'och!' said i, 'it's not much you will be bettered by me, though you should tear me asunder; i will make but one meal for you. but i see that you are one-eyed. i am a good leech, and i will give you the sight of the other eye.' the giant went and he drew the great caldron on the site of the fire. i myself was telling him how he should heat the water, so that i should give its sight to the other eye. i got heather and i made a rubber of it, and i set him upright in the caldron. i began at the eye that was well, pretending to him that i would give its sight to the other one, till i left them as bad as each other; and surely it was easier to spoil the one that was well than to give sight to the other. [illustration: there thou art thou pretty buck. thou seest me but i see thee not.] "when he saw that he could not see a glimpse, and when i myself said to him that i would get out in spite of him, he gave a spring out of the water, and he stood in the mouth of the cave, and he said that he would have revenge for the sight of his eye. i had but to stay there crouched the length of the night, holding in my breath in such a way that he might not find out where i was. "when he felt the birds calling in the morning, and knew that the day was, he said--'art thou sleeping? awake and let out my lot of goats.' i killed the buck. he cried, 'i do believe that thou art killing my buck.' "'i am not,' said i, 'but the ropes are so tight that i take long to loose them.' i let out one of the goats, and there he was caressing her, and he said to her, 'there thou art, thou shaggy, hairy white goat, and thou seest me, but i see thee not.' i kept letting them out by the way of one and one, as i flayed the buck, and before the last one was out i had him flayed bag-wise. then i went and i put my legs in place of his legs, and my hands in place of his forelegs, and my head in place of his head, and the horns on top of my head, so that the brute might think that it was the buck. i went out. when i was going out the giant laid his hand on me, and he said, 'there thou art, thou pretty buck; thou seest me, but i see thee not.' when i myself got out, and i saw the world about me, surely, o king! joy was on me. when i was out and had shaken the skin off me, i said to the brute, 'i am out now in spite of you.' "'aha!' said he, 'hast thou done this to me? since thou wert so stalwart that thou hast got out, i will give thee a ring that i have here; keep the ring, and it will do thee good.' "'i will not take the ring from you,' said i, 'but throw it and i will take it with me.' he threw the ring on the flat ground; i went myself and lifted the ring, and i put it on my finger. when he said to me then, 'is the ring fitting thee?' i said to him, 'it is.' then he said, 'where art thou, ring?' and the ring said, 'i am here.' the brute went and went towards where the ring was speaking, and now i saw that i was in a harder case than ever i was. i drew a dirk. i cut the finger from off me, and i threw it from me as far as i could out on the loch, and there was a great depth in the place. he shouted, 'where art thou, ring?' and the ring said, 'i am here,' though it was on the bed of the ocean. he gave a spring after the ring, and out he went in the sea. and i was as pleased then when i saw him drowning, as though you should grant my own life and the life of my two sons with me, and not lay any more trouble on me. "when the giant was drowned i went in, and i took with me all he had of gold and silver, and i went home, and surely great joy was on my people when i arrived. and as a sign now look, the finger is off me." "yes, indeed, conall, you are wordy and wise," said the king. "i see the finger is off you. you have freed your two sons, but tell me a case in which you ever were that is harder than to be looking on your son being hanged to-morrow, and you shall get the soul of your eldest son." "then went my father," said conall, "and he got me a wife, and i was married. i went to hunt. i was going beside the sea, and i saw an island over in the midst of the loch, and i came there where a boat was with a rope before her, and a rope behind her, and many precious things within her. i looked myself on the boat to see how i might get part of them. i put in the one foot, and the other foot was on the ground, and when i raised my head what was it but the boat over in the middle of the loch, and she never stopped till she reached the island. when i went out of the boat the boat returned where she was before. i did not know now what i should do. the place was without meat or clothing, without the appearance of a house on it. i came out on the top of a hill. then i came to a glen; i saw in it, at the bottom of a hollow, a woman with a child, and the child was naked on her knee, and she had a knife in her hand. she tried to put the knife to the throat of the babe, and the babe began to laugh in her face, and she began to cry, and she threw the knife behind her. i thought to myself that i was near my foe and far from my friends, and i called to the woman, 'what are you doing here?' and she said to me 'what brought you here?' i told her myself word upon word how i came. 'well, then,' said she, 'it was so i came also.' she showed me to the place where i should come in where she was. i went in, and i said to her, 'what was the matter that you were putting the knife on the neck of the child?' 'it is that he must be cooked for the giant who is here, or else no more of my world will be before me.' just then we could be hearing the footsteps of the giant, 'what shall i do? what shall i do?' cried the woman. i went to the caldron, and by luck it was not hot, so in it i got just as the brute came in. 'hast thou boiled that youngster for me?' he cried. 'he's not done yet,' said she, and i cried out from the caldron, 'mammy, mammy, it's boiling i am.' then the giant laughed out hai, haw, hogaraich, and heaped on wood under the caldron. "and now i was sure i would scald before i could get out of that. as fortune favoured me, the brute slept beside the caldron. there i was scalded by the bottom of the caldron. when she perceived that he was asleep, she set her mouth quietly to the hole that was in the lid, and she said to me 'was i alive?' i said i was. i put up my head, and the hole in the lid was so large, that my head went through easily. everything was coming easily with me till i began to bring up my hips. i left the skin of my hips behind me, but i came out. when i got out of the caldron i knew not what to do; and she said to me that there was no weapon that would kill him but his own weapon. i began to draw his spear, and every breath that he drew i thought i would be down his throat, and when his breath came out i was back again just as far. but with every ill that befell me i got the spear loosed from him. then i was as one under a bundle of straw in a great wind, for i could not manage the spear. and it was fearful to look on the brute, who had but one eye in the midst of his face; and it was not agreeable for the like of me to attack him. i drew the dart as best i could, and i set it in his eye. when he felt this he gave his head a lift, and he struck the other end of the dart on the top of the cave, and it went through to the back of his head. and he fell cold dead where he was; and you may be sure, o king, that joy was on me. i myself and the woman went out on clear ground, and we passed the night there. i went and got the boat with which i came, and she was no way lightened, and took the woman and the child over on dry land; and i returned home." the king of lochlann's mother was putting on a fire at this time, and listening to conall telling the tale about the child. "is it you," said she, "that were there?" "well then," said he, "'t was i." "och! och!" said she, "'t was i that was there, and the king is the child whose life you saved; and it is to you that life thanks should be given." then they took great joy. the king said, "o conall, you came through great hardships. and now the brown horse is yours, and his sack full of the most precious things that are in my treasury." they lay down that night, and if it was early that conall rose, it was earlier than that that the queen was on foot making ready. he got the brown horse and his sack full of gold and silver and stones of great price, and then conall and his three sons went away, and they returned home to the erin realm of gladness. he left the gold and silver in his house, and he went with the horse to the king. they were good friends evermore. he returned home to his wife, and they set in order a feast; and that was a feast if ever there was one, o son and brother. hudden and dudden and donald o'neary [illustration:] there was once upon a time two farmers, and their names were hudden and dudden. they had poultry in their yards, sheep on the uplands, and scores of cattle in the meadow-land alongside the river. but for all that they weren't happy. for just between their two farms there lived a poor man by the name of donald o'neary. he had a hovel over his head and a strip of grass that was barely enough to keep his one cow, daisy, from starving, and, though she did her best, it was but seldom that donald got a drink of milk or a roll of butter from daisy. you would think there was little here to make hudden and dudden jealous, but so it is, the more one has the more one wants, and donald's neighbours lay awake of nights scheming how they might get hold of his little strip of grass-land. daisy, poor thing, they never thought of; she was just a bag of bones. one day hudden met dudden, and they were soon grumbling as usual, and all to the tune of "if only we could get that vagabond donald o'neary out of the country." "let's kill daisy," said hudden at last; "if that doesn't make him clear out, nothing will." no sooner said than agreed; and it wasn't dark before hudden and dudden crept up to the little shed where lay poor daisy trying her best to chew the cud, though she hadn't had as much grass in the day as would cover your hand. and when donald came to see if daisy was all snug for the night, the poor beast had only time to lick his hand once before she died. well, donald was a shrewd fellow, and down-hearted though he was, began to think if he could get any good out of daisy's death. he thought and he thought, and the next day you could have seen him trudging off early to the fair, daisy's hide over his shoulder, every penny he had jingling in his pockets. just before he got to the fair, he made several slits in the hide, put a penny in each slit, walked into the best inn of the town as bold as if it belonged to him, and, hanging the hide up to a nail in the wall, sat down. "some of your best whisky," says he to the landlord. but the landlord didn't like his looks. "is it fearing i won't pay you, you are?" says donald; "why i have a hide here that gives me all the money i want." and with that he hit it a whack with his stick and out hopped a penny. the landlord opened his eyes, as you may fancy. "what'll you take for that hide?" "it's not for sale, my good man." "will you take a gold piece?" "it's not for sale, i tell you. hasn't it kept me and mine for years?" and with that donald hit the hide another whack and out jumped a second penny. well, the long and the short of it was that donald let the hide go, and, that very evening, who but he should walk up to hudden's door? "good-evening, hudden. will you lend me your best pair of scales?" hudden stared and hudden scratched his head, but he lent the scales. when donald was safe at home, he pulled out his pocketful of bright gold and began to weigh each piece in the scales. but hudden had put a lump of butter at the bottom, and so the last piece of gold stuck fast to the scales when he took them back to hudden. if hudden had stared before, he stared ten times more now, and no sooner was donald's back turned, than he was off as hard as he could pelt to dudden's. "good-evening, dudden. that vagabond, bad luck to him----" "you mean donald o'neary?" "and who else should i mean? he's back here weighing out sackfuls of gold." "how do you know that?" "here are my scales that he borrowed, and here's a gold piece still sticking to them." [illustration:] off they went together, and they came to donald's door. donald had finished making the last pile of ten gold pieces. and he couldn't finish because a piece had stuck to the scales. in they walked without an "if you please" or "by your leave." "well, _i_ never!" that was all _they_ could say. "good-evening, hudden; good-evening dudden. ah! you thought you had played me a fine trick, but you never did me a better turn in all your lives when i found poor daisy dead, i thought to myself, 'well, her hide may fetch something'; and it did. hides are worth their weight in gold in the market just now." hudden nudged dudden, and dudden winked at hudden. "good-evening, donald o'neary." "good-evening, kind friends." the next day there wasn't a cow or a calf that belonged to hudden or dudden but her hide was going to the fair in hudden's biggest cart drawn by dudden's strongest pair of horses. when they came to the fair, each one took a hide over his arm, and there they were walking through the fair, bawling out at the top of their voices: "hides to sell! hides to sell!" out came the tanner: "how much for your hides, my good men?" "their weight in gold." "it's early in the day to come out of the tavern." that was all the tanner said, and back he went to his yard. "hides to sell! fine fresh hides to sell!" out came the cobbler: "how much for your hides, my men?" "their weight in gold." "is it making game of me you are! take that for your pains," and the cobbler dealt hudden a blow that made him stagger. up the people came running from one end of the fair to the other. "what 's the matter? what's the matter?" cried they. "here are a couple of vagabonds selling hides at their weight in gold," said the cobbler. "hold 'em fast; hold 'em fast!" bawled the innkeeper, who was the last to come up, he was so fat. "i'll wager it's one of the rogues who tricked me out of thirty gold pieces yesterday for a wretched hide." it was more kicks than halfpence that hudden and dudden got before they were well on their way home again, and they didn't run the slower because all the dogs of the town were at their heels. well, as you may fancy, if they loved donald little before, they loved him less now. "what's the matter, friends?" said he, as he saw them tearing along, their hats knocked in, and their coats torn off, and their faces black and blue. "is it fighting you've been? or mayhap you met the police, ill luck to them?" "we'll police you, you vagabond. it's mighty smart you thought yourself, deluding us with your lying tales." "who deluded you? didn't you see the gold with your own two eyes?" but it was no use talking. pay for it he must, and should. there was a meal-sack handy, and into it hudden and dudden popped donald o'neary, tied him up tight, ran a pole through the knot, and off they started for the brown lake of the bog, each with a pole-end on his shoulder, and donald o'neary between. but the brown lake was far, the road was dusty, hudden and dudden were sore and weary, and parched with thirst. there was an inn by the roadside. "let's go in," said hudden; "i'm dead beat. it's heavy he is for the little he had to eat." if hudden was willing, so was dudden. as for donald, you may be sure his leave wasn't asked, but he was lumped down at the inn door for all the world as if he had been a sack of potatoes. "sit still, you vagabond," said dudden; "if we don't mind waiting, you needn't." donald held his peace, but after a while he heard the glasses clink, and hudden singing away at the top of his voice. "i won't have her, i tell you; i won't have her!" said donald. but nobody heeded what he said. "i won't have her, i tell you; i won't have her!" said donald; and this time he said it louder; but nobody heeded what he said. "i won't have her, i tell you; i won't have her!" said donald; and this time he said it as loud as he could. "and who won't you have, may i be so bold as to ask?" said a farmer, who had just come up with a drove of cattle, and was turning in for a glass. "it's the king's daughter. they are bothering the life out of me to marry her." "you're the lucky fellow. i'd give something to be in your shoes." "do you see that now! wouldn't it be a fine thing for a farmer to be marrying a princess, all dressed in gold and jewels?" "jewels, do you say? ah, now, couldn't you take me with you?" "well, you're an honest fellow, and as i don't care for the king's daughter, though she's as beautiful as the day, and is covered with jewels from top to toe, you shall have her. just undo the cord and let me out; they tied me up tight, as they knew i'd run away from her." out crawled donald; in crept the farmer. "now lie still, and don't mind the shaking; it's only rumbling over the palace steps you'll be. and maybe they'll abuse you for a vagabond, who won't have the king's daughter; but you needn't mind that. ah! it's a deal i'm giving up for you, sure as it is that i don't care for the princess." "take my cattle in exchange," said the farmer; and you may guess it wasn't long before donald was at their tails driving them homewards. out came hudden and dudden, and the one took one end of the pole, and the other the other. "i'm thinking he's heavier," said hudden. "ah, never mind," said dudden; "it's only a step now to the brown lake." "i'll have her now! i'll have her now!" bawled the farmer, from inside the sack. "by my faith and you shall though," said hudden, and he laid his stick across the sack. "i'll have her! i'll have her!" bawled the farmer, louder than ever. "well, here you are," said dudden, for they were now come to the brown lake, and, unslinging the sack, they pitched it plump into the lake. "you'll not be playing your tricks on us any longer," said hudden. "true for you," said dudden. "ah, donald, my boy, it was an ill day when you borrowed my scales." off they went, with a light step and an easy heart, but when they were near home, whom should they see but donald o'neary, and all around him the cows were grazing, and the calves were kicking up their heels and butting their heads together. "is it you, donald?" said dudden. "faith you've been quicker than we have." "true for you, dudden, and let me thank you kindly; the turn was good, if the will was ill. you'll have heard, like me, that the brown lake leads to the land of promise. i always put it down as lies, but it is just as true as my word. look at the cattle." hudden stared, and dudden gaped; but they couldn't get over the cattle: fine fat cattle they were too. "it's only the worst i could bring up with me," said donald o'neary; "the others were so fat, there was no driving them. faith, too, it's little wonder they didn't care to leave, with grass as far as you could see, and as sweet and juicy as fresh butter." "ah, now, donald, we haven't always been friends," said dudden, "but, as i was just saying, you were ever a decent lad, and you'll show us the way, won't you?" "i don't see that i'm called upon to do that; there is a power more cattle down there. why shouldn't i have them all to myself?" "faith, they may well say, the richer you get, the harder the heart. you always were a neighbourly lad, donald. you wouldn't wish to keep the luck all to yourself?" "true for you, hudden, though 'tis a bad example you set me. but i'll not be thinking of old times. there is plenty for all there, so come along with me." off they trudged, with a light heart and an eager step. when they came to the brown lake the sky was full of little white clouds, and, if the sky was full, the lake was as full. "ah! now, look, there they are," cried donald, as he pointed to the clouds in the lake. "where? where?" cried hudden, and "don't be greedy!" cried dudden, as he jumped his hardest to be up first with the fat cattle. but if he jumped first, hudden wasn't long behind. they never came back. maybe they got too fat, like the cattle. as for donald o'neary, he had cattle and sheep all his days to his heart's content. the shepherd of myddvai [illustration:] up in the black mountains in caermarthenshire lies the lake known as lyn y van vach. to the margin of this lake the shepherd of myddvai once led his lambs, and lay there whilst they sought pasture. suddenly, from the dark waters of the lake, he saw three maidens rise. shaking the bright drops from their hair and gliding to the shore they wandered about amongst his flock. they had more than mortal beauty, and he was filled with love for her that came nearest to him. he offered her the bread he had with him, and she took it and tried it, but then sang to him: "hard-baked is thy bread, 'tis not easy to catch me," and then ran off laughing to the lake. next day he took with him bread not so well done, and watched for the maidens. when they came ashore he offered his bread as before, and the maiden tasted it and sang: "unbaked is thy bread, i will not have thee," and again disappeared in the waves. a third time did the shepherd of myddvai try to attract the maiden, and this time he offered bread that he had found floating about near the shore. this pleased her, and she promised to become his wife if he were able to pick her out from among her sisters on the following day. when the time came the shepherd knew his love by the strap of her sandal. then she told him she would be as good a wife to him as any earthly maiden could be unless he should strike her three times without cause. of course he deemed that this could never be; and she summoning from the lake three cows, two oxen, and a bull, as her marriage portion, was led homeward by him as his bride. the years passed happily, and three children were born to the shepherd and the lake-maiden. but one day they were going to a christening, and she said to her husband it was far to walk, so he told her to go for the horses. "i will," said she, "if you bring me my gloves which i've left in the house." but when he came back with the gloves he found she had not gone for the horses; so he tapped her lightly on the shoulder with the gloves, and said, "go, go." "that's one," said she. another time they were at a wedding, when suddenly the lake-maiden fell a-sobbing and a-weeping, amid the joy and mirth of all around her. her husband tapped her on the shoulder, and asked her, "why do you weep?" "because they are entering into trouble; and trouble is upon you; for that is the second causeless blow you have given me. be careful; the third is the last." the husband was very careful never to strike her. but one day at a funeral she suddenly burst out into fits of laughter. her husband forgot, and touched her rather roughly on the shoulder, saying, "is this a time for laughter?" "i laugh," she said, "because those that die go out of trouble, but your trouble has come. the last blow has been struck; our marriage is at an end, and so farewell." and with that she rose up and left the house and went to their home. then she, looking round upon her home, called to the cattle she had brought with her: "brindle cow, white speckled, spotted cow, bold freckled, old white face, and grey geringer, and the white bull from the king's coast grey ox, and black calf, all, all, follow me home." now the black calf had just been slaughtered, and was hanging on the hook; but it got off the hook alive and well and followed her; and the oxen, though they were ploughing, trailed the plough with them and did her bidding. so she fled to the lake again, they following her, and with them plunged into the dark waters. and to this day is the furrow seen which the plough left as it was dragged across the mountains to the tarn. only once did she come again, when her sons were grown to manhood, and then she gave them gifts of healing by which they won the name of meddygon myddvai, the physicians of myddvai. the sprightly tailor [illustration:] a sprightly tailor was employed by the great macdonald, in his castle at saddell, in order to make the laird a pair of trews, used in olden time. and trews being the vest and breeches united in one piece, and ornamented with fringes, were very comfortable, and suitable to be worn in walking or dancing. macdonald had said to the tailor that if he would make the trews by night in the church he would get a handsome reward. for it was thought that the old ruined church was haunted, and that fearsome things were to be seen there at night. the tailor was well aware of this; but he was a sprightly man, and when the laird dared him to make the trews by night in the church, the tailor was not to be daunted, but took it in hand to gain the prize. so, when night came, away he went up the glen, about half a mile distance from the castle, till he came to the old church. then he chose him a nice grave-stone for a seat and he lighted his candle, and put on his thimble, and set to work at the trews, plying his needle nimbly, and thinking about the hire that the laird would have to give him. for some time he got on pretty well, until he felt the floor all of a tremble under his feet; and looking about him, but keeping his fingers at work, he saw the appearance of a great human head rising up through the stone pavement of the church. and when the head had risen above the surface, there came from it a great, great voice. and the voice said: "do you see this great head of mine?" "i see that, but i'll sew this!" replied the sprightly tailor; and he stitched away at the trews. then the head rose higher up through the pavement, until its neck appeared. and when its neck was shown, the thundering voice came again and said: "do you see this great neck of mine?" "i see that, but i'll sew this!" said the sprightly tailor; and he stitched away at his trews. then the head and neck rose higher still, until the great shoulders and chest were shown above the ground. and again the mighty voice thundered: "do you see this great chest of mine?" and again the sprightly tailor replied: "i see that, but i'll sew this!" and stitched away at his trews. and still it kept rising through the pavement, until it shook a great pair of arms in the tailor's face, and said: "do you see these great arms of mine?" "i see those, but i'll sew this!" answered the tailor; and he stitched hard at his trews, for he knew that he had no time to lose. the sprightly tailor was taking the long stitches, when he saw it gradually rising and rising through the floor, until it lifted out a great leg, and stamping with it upon the pavement, said in a roaring voice: "do you see this great leg of mine?" "aye, aye: i see that, but i'll sew this!" cried the tailor; and his fingers flew with the needle, and he took such long stitches, that he was just come to the end of the trews, when it was taking up its other leg. but before it could pull it out of the pavement, the sprightly tailor had finished his task; and, blowing out his candle, and springing from off his grave-stone, he buckled up, and ran out of the church with the trews under his arm. then the fearsome thing gave a loud roar, and stamped with both his feet upon the pavement, and out of the church he went after the sprightly tailor. down the glen they ran, faster than the stream when the flood rides it; but the tailor had got the start and a nimble pair of legs, and he did not choose to lose the laird's reward. and though the thing roared to him to stop, yet the sprightly tailor was not the man to be beholden to a monster. so he held his trews tight, and let no darkness grow under his feet until he had reached saddell castle. he had no sooner got inside the gate, and shut it, than the monster came up to it; and, enraged at losing his prize, struck the wall above the gate, and left there the mark of his five great fingers. you may see them plainly to this day, if you'll only peer close enough. but the sprightly tailor gained his reward: for macdonald paid him handsomely for the trews, and never discovered that a few of the stitches were somewhat long. the story of deirdre [illustration:] there was a man in ireland once who was called malcolm harper. the man was a right good man, and he had a goodly share of this world's goods. he had a wife, but no family. what did malcolm hear but that a soothsayer had come home to the place, and as the man was a right good man, he wished that the soothsayer might come near them. whether it was that he was invited or that he came of himself, the soothsayer came to the house of malcolm. "are you doing any soothsaying?" says malcolm. "yes, i am doing a little. are you in need of soothsaying?" "well, i do not mind taking soothsaying from you, if you had soothsaying for me, and you would be willing to do it." "well, i will do soothsaying for you. what kind of soothsaying do you want?" "well, the soothsaying i wanted was that you would tell me my lot or what will happen to me, if you can give me knowledge of it." "well, i am going out, and when i return i will tell you." and the soothsayer went forth out of the house, and he was not long outside when he returned. "well," said the soothsayer, "i saw in my second sight that it is on account of a daughter of yours that the greatest amount of blood shall be shed that has ever been shed in erin since time and race began. and the three most famous heroes that ever were found will lose their heads on her account." after a time a daughter was born to malcolm. he did not allow a living being to come to his house, only himself and the nurse. he asked this woman, "will you yourself bring up the child to keep her in hiding far away where eye will not see a sight of her nor ear hear a word about her?" the woman said she would, so malcolm got three men, and he took them away to a large mountain, distant and far from reach, without the knowledge or notice of any one. he caused there a hillock, round and green, to be dug out of the middle, and the hole thus made to be covered carefully over, so that a little company could dwell there together. this was done. deirdre and her foster-mother dwelt in the bothy mid the hills without the knowledge or the suspicion of any living person about them and without anything occurring, until deirdre was sixteen years of age. deirdre grew like the white sapling, straight and trim as the rash on the moss. she was the creature of fairest form, of loveliest aspect, and of gentlest nature that existed between earth and heaven in all ireland--whatever colour of hue she had before, there was nobody that looked into her face but she would blush fiery red over it. the woman that had charge of her gave deirdre every information and skill of which she herself had knowledge and skill. there was not a blade of grass growing from root, nor a bird singing in the wood, nor a star shining from heaven but deirdre had a name for it. but one thing, she did not wish her to have either part or parley with any single living man of the rest of the world. but on a gloomy winter night, with black, scowling clouds, a hunter of game was wearily travelling the hills, and what happened but that he missed the trail of the hunt, and lost his course and companions. a drowsiness came upon the man as he wearily wandered over the hills, and he laid down by the side of the beautiful green knoll in which deirdre lived, and he slept. the man was faint from hunger and wandering, and benumbed with cold, and a deep sleep fell upon him. when he lay down beside the green hill where deirdre was, a troubled dream came to the man, and he thought that he enjoyed the warmth of a fairy broch, the fairies being inside playing music. the hunter shouted out in his dream if there was any one in the broch, to let him in for the holy one's sake. deirdre heard the voice, and said to her foster-mother, "o foster-mother, what cry is that?" "it is nothing at all, deirdre--merely the birds of the air astray and seeking each other. but let them go past to the bosky glade. there is no shelter or house for them here." "o foster-mother, the bird asked to get inside for the sake of the god of the elements, and you yourself tell me that anything that is asked in his name we ought to do. if you will not allow the bird that is being benumbed with cold, and done to death with hunger, to be let in, i do not think much of your language or your faith. but since i give credence to your language and to your faith, which you taught me, i will myself let in the bird." and deirdre arose and drew the bolt from the leaf of the door, and she let in the hunter. she placed a seat in the place for sitting, food in the place for eating, and drink in the place for drinking for the man who came to the house. "oh, for this life and raiment, you man that came in, keep restraint on your tongue!" said the old woman. "it is not a great thing for you to keep your mouth shut and your tongue quiet when you get a home and shelter of a hearth on a gloomy winter's night." "well," said the hunter, "i may do that--keep my mouth shut and my tongue quiet, since i came to the house and received hospitality from you; but by the hand of thy father and grandfather, and by your own two hands, if some other of the people of the world saw this beauteous creature you have here hid away, they would not long leave her with you, i swear." "what men are these you refer to?" said deirdre. "well, i will tell you, young woman," said the hunter, "they are naois, son of uisnech, and allen and arden his two brothers." "what like are these men when seen, if we were to see them?" said deirdre. "why, the aspect and form of the men when seen are these," said the hunter; "they have the colour of the raven on their hair, their skin like swan on the wave in whiteness, and their cheeks as the blood of the brindled red calf, and their speed and their leap are those of the salmon of the torrent and the deer of the grey mountain side. and naois is head and shoulders over the rest of the people of erin." "however they are," said the nurse, "be you off from here and take another road. and, king of light and sun! in good sooth and certainty, little are my thanks for yourself or for her that let you in!" the hunter went away, and went straight to the palace of king connachar. he sent word in to the king that he wished to speak to him if he pleased. the king answered the message and came out to speak to the man. "what is the reason of your journey?" said the king to the hunter. [illustration: deirdre. o nurse what cry is that! only the birds of the air calling one to the other.-- there is no home for them here. let them go by to the thicket.] "i have only to tell you, o king," said the hunter. "that i saw the fairest creature that ever was born in erin, and i came to tell you of it." "who is this beauty, and where is she to be seen, when she was not seen before till you saw her, if you did see her?" "well, i did see her," said the hunter. "but, if i did, no man else can see her unless he get directions from me as to where she is dwelling." "and will you direct me to where she dwells? and the reward of your directing me will be as good as the reward of your message," said the king. "well, i will direct you, o king, although it is likely that this will not be what they want," said the hunter. connachar, king of ulster, sent for his nearest kinsmen, and he told them of his intent. though early rose the song of the birds mid the rocky caves and the music of the birds in the grove, earlier than that did connachar, king of ulster, arise, with his little troop of dear friends, in the delightful twilight of the fresh and gentle may; the dew was heavy on each bush and flower and stem, as they went to bring deirdre forth from the green knoll where she stayed. many a youth was there who had a lithe, leaping and lissom step when they started whose step was faint, failing, and faltering when they reached the bothy on account of the length of the way and roughness of the road. "yonder, now, down in the bottom of the glen is the bothy where the woman dwells, but i will not go nearer than this to the old woman," said the hunter. connachar with his band of kinsfolk went down to the green knoll where deirdre dwelt and he knocked at the door of the bothy. the nurse replied, "no less than a king's command and a king's army could put me out of my bothy to-night. and i should be obliged to you, were you to tell who it is that wants me to open my bothy door." "it is i, connachar, king of ulster." when the poor woman heard who was at the door, she rose with haste and let in the king and all that could get in of his retinue. when the king saw the woman that was before him that he had been in quest of, he thought he never saw in the course of the day nor in the dream of night a creature so fair as deirdre and he gave his full heart's weight of love to her. deirdre was raised on the topmost of the heroes' shoulders and she and her foster-mother were brought to the court of king connachar of ulster. with the love that connachar had for her, he wanted to marry deirdre right off there and then, will she nill she marry him. but she said to him, "i would be obliged to you if you will give me the respite of a year and a day." he said, "i will grant you that, hard though it is, if you will give me your unfailing promise that you will marry me at the year's end." and she gave the promise. connachar got for her a woman-teacher and merry modest maidens fair that would lie down and rise with her, that would play and speak with her. deirdre was clever in maidenly duties and wifely understanding, and connachar thought he never saw with bodily eye a creature that pleased him more. deirdre and her women companions were one day out on the hillock behind the house enjoying the scene, and drinking in the sun's heat. what did they see coming but three men a-journeying. deirdre was looking at the men that were coming, and wondering at them. when the men neared them, deirdre remembered the language of the huntsman, and she said to herself that these were the three sons of uisnech, and that this was naois, he having what was above the bend of the two shoulders above the men of erin all. the three brothers went past without taking any notice of them, without even glancing at the young girls on the hillock. what happened but that love for naois struck the heart of deirdre, so that she could not but follow after him. she girded up her raiment and went after the men that went past the base of the knoll, leaving her women attendants there. allen and arden had heard of the woman that connachar, king of ulster, had with him, and they thought that, if naois, their brother, saw her, he would have her himself, more especially as she was not married to the king. they perceived the woman coming, and called on one another to hasten their step as they had a long distance to travel, and the dusk of night was coming on. they did so. she cried: "naois, son of uisnech, will you leave me?" "what piercing, shrill cry is that--the most melodious my ear ever heard, and the shrillest that ever struck my heart of all the cries i ever heard?" "it isn't anything else but the wail of the wave-swans of connachar," said his brothers. "no! yonder is a woman's cry of distress," said naois, and he swore he would not go further until he saw from whom the cry came, and naois turned back. naois and deirdre met, and deirdre kissed naois three times, and a kiss each to his brothers. with the confusion that she was in, deirdre went into a crimson blaze of fire, and her colour came and went as rapidly as the movement of the aspen by the stream side. naois thought he never saw a fairer creature, and naois gave deirdre the love that he never gave to thing, to vision, or to creature but to herself. then naois placed deirdre on the topmost height of his shoulder, and told his brothers to keep up their pace, and they kept up their pace. naois thought that it would not be well for him to remain in erin on account of the way in which connachar, king of ulster, his uncle's son, had gone against him because of the woman, though he had not married her; and he turned back to alba, that is, scotland. he reached the side of loch ness and made his habitation there. he could kill the salmon of the torrent from out his own door, and the deer of the grey gorge from out his window. naois and deirdre and allen and arden dwelt in a tower, and they were happy so long a time as they were there. by this time the end of the period came at which deirdre had to marry connachar, king of ulster. connachar made up his mind to take deirdre away by the sword whether she was married to naois or not. so he prepared a great and gleeful feast. he sent word far and wide through erin to all his kinspeople to come to the feast. connachar thought to himself that naois would not come though he should bid him, and the scheme that arose in his mind was to send for his father's brother, ferchar mac ro, and to send him on an embassy to naois. he did so; and connachar said to ferchar, "tell naois, son of uisnech, that i am setting forth a great and gleeful feast to my friends and kinspeople throughout the wide extent of erin all, and that i shall not have rest by day nor sleep by night if he and allen and arden be not partakers of the feast." ferchar mac ro and his three sons went on their journey, and reached the tower where naois was dwelling by the side of loch etive. the sons of uisnech gave a cordial kindly welcome to ferchar mac ro and his three sons, and asked of him the news of erin. "the best news that i have for you," said the hardy hero, "is that connachar, king of ulster, is setting forth a great sumptuous feast to his friends and kinspeople throughout the wide extent of erin all, and he has vowed by the earth beneath him, by the high heaven above him, and by the sun that wends to the west, that he will have no rest by day nor sleep by night if the sons of uisnech, the sons of his own father's brother, will not come back to the land of their home and the soil of their nativity, and to the feast likewise, and he has sent us on embassy to invite you." "we will go with you," said naois. "we will," said his brothers. but deirdre did not wish to go with ferchar mac ro, and she tried every prayer to turn naois from going with him--she said: "i saw a vision, naois, and do you interpret it to me," said deirdre--then she sang: o naois, son of uisnech, hear what was shown in a dream to me. there came three white doves out of the south flying over the sea, and drops of honey were in their mouth from the hive of the honey-bee. o naois, son of uisnech, hear what was shown in a dream to me. i saw three grey hawks out of the south come flying over the sea, and the red drops they bare in their mouth they were dearer than life to me. said naois: it is nought but the fear of woman's heart, and a dream of the night, deirdre. "the day that connachar sent the invitation to his feast will be unlucky for us if we don't go, o deirdre." "you will go there," said ferchar mac ro; "and if connachar show kindness to you, show ye kindness to him; and if he will display wrath towards you display ye wrath towards him, and i and my three sons will be with you." "we will," said daring drop. "we will," said hardy holly. "we will," said fiallan the fair. "i have three sons, and they are three heroes, and in any harm or danger that may befall you, they will be with you, and i myself will be along with them." and ferchar mac ro gave his vow and his word in presence of his arms that, in any harm or danger that came in the way of the sons of uisnech, he and his three sons would not leave head on live body in erin, despite sword or helmet, spear or shield, blade or mail, be they ever so good. deirdre was unwilling to leave alba, but she went with naois. deirdre wept tears in showers and she sang: dear is the land, the land over there, alba full of woods and lakes; bitter to my heart is leaving thee, but i go away with naois. ferchar mac ro did not stop till he got the sons of uisnech away with him, despite the suspicion of deirdre. the coracle was put to sea, the sail was hoisted to it; and the second morrow they arrived on the white shores of erin. as soon as the sons of uisnech landed in erin, ferchar mac ro sent word to connachar, king of ulster, that the men whom he wanted were come, and let him now show kindness to them. "well," said connachar, "i did not expect that the sons of uisnech would come, though i sent for them, and i am not quite ready to receive them. but there is a house down yonder where i keep strangers, and let them go down to it to-day, and my house will be ready before them to-morrow." but he that was up in the palace felt it long that he was not getting word as to how matters were going on for those down in the house of the strangers. "go you, gelban grednach, son of lochlin's king, go you down and bring me information as to whether her former hue and complexion are on deirdre. if they be, i will take her out with edge of blade and point of sword, and if not, let naios, son of uisnech, have her for himself," said connachar. gelban, the cheering and charming son of lochlin's king, went down to the place of the strangers, where the sons of uisnech and deirdre were staying. he looked in through the bicker-hole on the door-leaf. now she that he gazed upon used to go into a crimson blaze of blushes when any one looked at her. naois looked at deirdre and knew that some one was looking at her from the back of the door-leaf. he seized one of the dice on the table before him and fired it through the bicker-hole, and knocked the eye out of gelban grednach the cheerful and charming, right through the back of his head. gelban returned back to the palace of king connachar. "you were cheerful, charming, going away, but you are cheerless, charmless, returning. what has happened to you, gelban? but have you seen her, and are deirdre's hue and complexion as before?" said connachar. "well, i have seen deirdre, and i saw her also truly, and while i was looking at her through the bicker-hole on the door, naois, son of uisnech, knocked out my eye with one of the dice in his hand. but of a truth and verity, although he put out even my eye, it were my desire still to remain looking at her with the other eye, were it not for the hurry you told me to be in," said gelban. "that is true," said connachar; "let three hundred brave heroes go down to the abode of the strangers, and let them bring hither to me deirdre, and kill the rest." connachar ordered three hundred active heroes to go down to the abode of the strangers, and to take deirdre up with them and kill the rest. "the pursuit is coming," said deirdre. "yes, but i will myself go out and stop the pursuit," said naois. "it is not you, but we that will go," said daring drop, and hardy holly, and fiallan the fair; "it is to us that our father entrusted your defence from harm and danger when he himself left for home." and the gallant youths, full noble, full manly, full handsome, with beauteous brown locks, went forth girt with battle arms fit for fierce fight and clothed with combat dress for fierce contest fit, which was burnished, bright, brilliant, bladed, blazing, on which were many pictures of beasts and birds, and creeping things, lions, and lithe-limbed tigers, brown eagle, and harrying hawk, and adder fierce; and the young heroes laid low three-thirds of the company. connachar came out in haste and cried with wrath; "who is there on the floor of fight, slaughtering my men?" "we, the three sons of ferchar mac ro." "well," said the king, "i will give a free bridge to your grandfather, a free bridge to your father, and a free bridge each to you three brothers, if you come over to my side to-night." "well, connachar, we will not accept that offer from you, nor thank you for it. greater by far do we prefer to go home to our father and tell the deeds of heroism we have done, than accept anything on these terms from you. naois, son of uisnech, and allen and arden are as nearly related to yourself as they are to us, though you are so keen to shed their blood, and you would shed our blood also, connachar." and the noble, manly, handsome youths, with beauteous brown locks, returned inside. "we are now," said they, "going home to tell our father that you are now safe from the hands of the king." and the youths, all fresh and tall and lithe and beautiful, went home to their father to tell that the sons of uisnech were safe. this happened at the parting of the day and night in the morning twilight time, and naois said they must go away, leave that house, and return to alba. naois and deirdre, allen and arden started to return to alba. word came to the king that the company he was in pursuit of were gone. the king then sent for duanan gacha druid, the best magician he had, and he spake to him as follows: "much wealth have i expended on you, duanan gacha druid, to give schooling and learning and magic mystery to you, i'll hold you to account if these people get away from me to-day without care, without consideration or regard for me, without chance of overtaking them, and without power to stop them." "well, i will stop them," said the magician, "until the company you send in pursuit return." and the magician placed a wood before them through which no man could go, but the sons of uisnech marched through the wood without halt or hesitation, and deirdre held on to naois's hand. "what is the good of that? that will not do yet," said connachar. "they are off without bending of their feet or stopping of their step, without heed or respect to me, and i am without power to keep up to them, or opportunity to turn them back this night." "i will try another plan on them," said the druid; and he placed before them a grey sea instead of a green plain. the three heroes stripped and tied their clothes behind their heads, and naois placed deirdre on the top of his shoulder. they stretched their sides to the stream, and sea and land were to them the same, the rough grey ocean was the same as meadow-land green and plain. "though that be good, o duanan, it will not make the heroes return," said connachar; "they are gone without regard for me, and without honor to me, and without power on my part to pursue them, or to force them to return this night." [illustration:] "we shall try another method on them, since yon one did not stop them," said the druid. and the druid froze the grey-ridged sea into hard rocky knobs, the sharpness of sword being on the one edge and the poison power of adders on the other. then arden cried that he was getting tired, and nearly giving over. "come you, arden, and sit on my right shoulder," said naois. arden came and sat on naois's shoulder. arden was not long in this posture when he died; but though he was dead naois would not let him go. allen then cried out that he was getting faint and well-nigh giving up. when naois heard his prayer, he gave forth the piercing sigh of death, and asked allen to lay hold of him and he would bring him to land. allen was not long when the weakness of death came on him, and his hold failed. naois looked around, and when he saw his two well-beloved brothers dead, he cared not whether he lived or died, and he gave forth the bitter sigh of death, and his heart burst. "they are gone," said duanan gacha druid to the king, "and i have done what you desired me. the sons of uisnech are dead and they will trouble you no more; and you have your wife hale and whole to yourself." "blessings for that upon you and may the good results accrue to me, duanan. i count it no loss what i spent in the schooling and teaching of you. now dry up the flood and let me see if i can behold deirdre," said connachar. and duanan gacha druid dried up the flood from the plain and the three sons of uisnech were lying together dead, without breath of life, side by side on the green meadow plain and deirdre bending above showering down her tears. then deirdre said this lament: "fair one, loved one, flower of beauty; beloved, upright, and strong; beloved, noble, and modest warrior. fair one, blue-eyed, beloved of thy wife; lovely to me at the trysting-place came thy clear voice through the woods of ireland. i cannot eat or smile henceforth. break not to-day, my heart: soon enough shall i lie within my grave. strong are the waves of sorrow, but stronger is sorrow's self, connachar." the people then gathered round the heroes' bodies and asked connachar what was to be done with the bodies. the order that he gave was that they should dig a pit and put the three brothers in it side by side. deirdre kept sitting on the brink of the grave, constantly asking the gravediggers to dig the pit wide and free. when the bodies of the brothers were put in the grave, deirdre said: come over hither, naois, my love, let arden close to allen lie; if the dead had any sense to feel, ye would have made a place for deirdre. the men did as she told them. she jumped into the grave and lay down by naois, and she was dead by his side. the king ordered the body to be raised from out the grave and to be buried on the other side of the loch. it was done as the king bade, and the pit closed. thereupon a fir shoot grew out of the grave of deirdre and a fir shoot from the grave of naois, and the two shoots united in a knot above the loch. the king ordered the shoots to be cut down, and this was done twice, until, at the third time, the wife whom the king had married caused him to stop this work of evil and his vengeance on the remains of the dead. munachar and manachar [illustration:] there once lived a munachar and a manachar, a long time ago, and it is a long time since it was, and if they were alive now they would not be alive then. they went out together to pick raspberries, and as many as munachar used to pick manachar used to eat. munachar said he must go look for a rod to make a gad to hang manachar, who ate his raspberries every one; and he came to the rod. "what news the day?" said the rod. "it is my own news that i'm seeking. going looking for a rod, a rod to make a gad, a gad to hang manachar, who ate my raspberries every one." "you will not get me," said the rod, "until you get an axe to cut me." he came to the axe. "what news to-day?" said the axe. "it's my own news i'm seeking. going looking for an axe, an axe to cut a rod, a rod to make a gad, a gad to hang manachar, who ate my raspberries every one." [illustration:] "you will not get me," said the axe, "until you get a flag to edge me." he came to the flag. "what news to-day?" says the flag. "it's my own news i'm seeking. going looking for a flag, flag to edge axe, axe to cut a rod, a rod to make a gad, a gad to hang manachar, who ate my raspberries every one." "you will not get me," says the flag, "till you get water to wet me." he came to the water. "what news to-day?" says the water. "it's my own news i'm seeking. going looking for water, water to wet flag, flag to edge axe, axe to cut a rod, a rod to make a gad, a gad to hang manachar, who ate my raspberries every one." "you will not get me," said the water, "until you get a deer who will swim me." he came to the deer "what news to-day?" says the deer. "it's my own news i'm seeking. going looking for a deer, deer to swim water, water to wet flag, flag to edge axe, axe to cut a rod, a rod to make a gad, a gad to hang manachar, who ate my raspberries every one." "you will not get me," said the deer, "until you get a hound who will hunt me." he came to the hound. "what news to-day?" says the hound. "it's my own news i'm seeking. going looking for a hound, hound to hunt deer, deer to swim water, water to wet flag, flag to edge axe, axe to cut a rod, a rod to make a gad, a gad to hang manachar, who ate my raspberries every one." "you will not get me," said the hound, "until you get a bit of butter to put in my claw." he came to the butter. "what news to-day?" says the butter. "it's my own news i'm seeking. going looking for butter, butter to go in claw of hound, hound to hunt deer, deer to swim water, water to wet flag, flag to edge axe, axe to cut a rod, a rod to make a gad, a gad to hang manachar, who ate my raspberries every one." "you will not get me," said the butter, "until you get a cat who shall scrape me." he came to the cat. "what news to-day?" said the cat. "it's my own news i'm seeking. going looking for a cat, cat to scrape butter, butter to go in claw of hound, hound to hunt deer, deer to swim water, water to wet flag, flag to edge axe, axe to cut a rod, a rod to make a gad, a gad to hang manachar, who ate my raspberries every one." "you will not get me," said the cat, "until you will get milk which you will give me." he came to the cow. "what news to-day?" said the cow. "it's my own news i'm seeking. going looking for a cow, cow to give me milk, milk i will give to the cat, cat to scrape butter, butter to go in claw of hound, hound to hunt deer, deer to swim water, water to wet flag, flag to edge axe, axe to cut a rod, a rod to make a gad, a gad to hang manachar, who ate my raspberries every one." "you will not get any milk from me," said the cow, "until you bring me a whisp of straw from those threshers yonder." he came to the threshers. "what news to-day?" said the threshers. "it's my own news i'm seeking. going looking for a whisp of straw from ye to give to the cow, the cow to give me milk, milk i will give to the cat, cat to scrape butter, butter to go in claw of hound, hound to hunt deer, deer to swim water, water to wet flag, flag to edge axe, axe to cut a rod, a rod to make a gad, a gad to hang manachar, who ate my raspberries every one." "you will not get any whisp of straw from us," said the threshers, "until you bring us the makings of a cake from the miller over yonder." he came to the miller. "what news to-day?" said the miller. "it's my own news i'm seeking. going looking for the makings of a cake which i will give the threshers, the threshers to give me a whisp of straw, the whisp of straw i will give to the cow, the cow to give me milk, milk i will give to the cat, cat to scrape butter, butter to go in claw of hound, hound to hunt deer, deer to swim water, water to wet flag, flag to edge axe, axe to cut a rod, a rod to make a gad, a gad to hang manachar, who ate my raspberries every one." "you will not get any makings of a cake from me," said the miller, "till you bring me the full of that sieve of water from the river over there." he took the sieve in his hand and went over to the river, but as often as ever he would stoop and fill it with water, the moment he raised it the water would run out of it again, and sure, if he had been there, from that day till this, he never could have filled it. a crow went flying by him, over his head, "daub! daub!" said the crow. "my blessings on ye, then," said munachar, "but it's the good advice you have," and he took the red clay and the daub that was by the brink, and he rubbed it to the bottom of the sieve, until all the holes were filled, and then the sieve held the water, and he brought the water to the miller, and the miller gave him the makings of a cake, and he gave the makings of the cake to the threshers, and the threshers gave him a whisp of straw, and he gave the whisp of straw to the cow, and the cow gave him milk, the milk he gave to the cat, the cat scraped the butter, the butter went into the claw of the hound, the hound hunted the deer, the deer swam the water, the water wet the flag, the flag sharpened the axe, the axe cut the rod, and the rod made a gad, and when he had it ready to hang manachar he found that manachar had burst. [illustration:] gold-tree and silver-tree [illustration:] once upon a time there was a king who had a wife, whose name was silver-tree, and a daughter whose name was gold-tree. on a certain day of the days, gold-tree and silver-tree went to a glen, where there was a well, and in it there was a trout. said silver-tree, "troutie, bonny little fellow, am not i the most beautiful queen in the world?" "oh! indeed you are not." "who then?" "why, gold-tree, your daughter." silver-tree went home, blind with rage. she lay down on the bed, and vowed she would never be well until she could get the heart and the liver of gold-tree, her daughter, to eat. at nightfall the king came home, and it was told him that silver-tree, his wife, was very ill. he went where she was, and asked her what was wrong with her. "oh! only a thing which you may heal if you like." "oh! indeed there is nothing at all which i could do for you that i would not do." "if i get the heart and the liver of gold-tree, my daughter, to eat, i shall be well." now it happened about this time that the son of a great king had come from abroad to ask gold-tree for marrying. the king now agreed to this, and they went abroad. the king then went and sent his lads to the hunting-hill for a he-goat, and he gave its heart and its liver to his wife to eat; and she rose well and healthy. a year after this silver-tree went to the glen, where there was the well in which there was the trout. "troutie, bonny little fellow," said she, "am not i the most beautiful queen in the world?" "oh! indeed you are not." "who then?" "why, gold-tree, your daughter." "oh! well, it is long since she was living. it is a year since i ate her heart and liver." "oh! indeed she is not dead. she is married to a great prince abroad." silver-tree went home, and begged the king to put the long-ship in order, and said, "i am going to see my dear gold-tree, for it is so long since i saw her." the long-ship was put in order, and they went away. it was silver-tree herself that was at the helm, and she steered the ship so well that they were not long at all before they arrived. the prince was out hunting on the hills. gold-tree knew the long-ship of her father coming. "oh!" she said to the servants, "my mother is coming, and she will kill me." "she shall not kill you at all; we will lock you in a room where she cannot get near you." this is how it was done; and when silver-tree came ashore, she began to cry out: "come to meet your own mother, when she comes to see you." gold-tree said that she could not, that she was locked in the room, and that she could not get out of it. "will you not put out," said silver-tree, "your little finger through the key-hole, so that your own mother may give a kiss to it?" she put out her little finger, and silver-tree went and put a poisoned stab in it, and gold-tree fell dead. [illustration:] when the prince came home, and found gold-tree dead, he was in great sorrow, and when he saw how beautiful she was, he did not bury her at all, but he locked her in a room where nobody would get near her. in the course of time he married again, and the whole house was under the hand of this wife but one room, and he himself always kept the key of that room. on a certain day of the days he forgot to take the key with him, and the second wife got into the room. what did she see there but the most beautiful woman that she ever saw. she began to turn and try to wake her, and she noticed the poisoned stab in her finger. she took the stab out, and gold-tree rose alive, as beautiful as she was ever. at the fall of night the prince came home from the hunting-hill, looking very downcast. "what gift," said his wife, "would you give me that i could make you laugh?" "oh! indeed, nothing could make me laugh, except gold-tree were to come alive again." "well, you'll find her alive down there in the room." when the prince saw gold-tree alive he made great rejoicings, and he began to kiss her, and kiss her, and kiss her. said the second wife, "since she is the first one you had it is better for you to stick to her, and i will go away." "oh! indeed you shall not go away, but i shall have both of you." at the end of the year, silver-tree went to the glen, where there was the well, in which there was the trout. "troutie, bonny little fellow," said she, "am not i the most beautiful queen in the world?" "oh! indeed you are not." "who then?" "why, gold-tree, your daughter." "oh! well, she is not alive. it is a year since i put the poisoned stab into her finger." "oh! indeed she is not dead at all, at all." silver-tree went home, and begged the king to put the long-ship in order, for that she was going to see her dear gold-tree, as it was so long since she saw her. the long-ship was put in order and they went away. it was silver-tree herself that was at the helm, and she steered the ship so well that they were not long at all before they arrived. the prince was out hunting on the hills. gold-tree knew her father's ship coming. "oh!" said she, "my mother is coming, and she will kill me." "not at all," said the second wife; "we will go down to meet her." silver-tree came ashore. "come down, gold-tree, love," said she, "for your own mother has come to you with a precious drink." "it is a custom in this country," said the second wife, "that the person who offers a drink takes a draught out of it first." silver-tree put her mouth to it, and the second wife went and struck it so that some of it went down her throat, and she fell dead. they had only to carry her home a dead corpse and bury her. the prince and his two wives were long alive after this, pleased and peaceful. i left them there. king o'toole and his goose och, i thought all the world, far and near, had heerd of king o'toole--well, well but the darkness of mankind is untollable! well, sir, you must know, as you didn't hear it afore, that there was a king, called king o'toole, who was a fine old king in the old ancient times, long ago; and it was he that owned the churches in the early days. the king, you see, was the right sort; he was the real boy, and loved sport as he loved his life, and hunting in particular; and from the rising o' the sun, up he got, and away he went over the mountains after the deer; and fine times they were. well, it was all mighty good, as long as the king had his health; but, you see, in the course of time the king grew old, by raison he was stiff in his limbs, and when he got stricken in years, his heart failed him, and he was lost entirely for want o' diversion, because he couldn't go a-hunting no longer; and, by dad, the poor king was obliged at last to get a goose to divert him. oh, you may laugh, if you like, but it's truth i'm telling you; and the way the goose diverted him was this-a-way: you see, the goose used to swim across the lake, and go diving for trout and catch fish on a friday for the king, and flew every other day round about the lake, diverting the poor king. all went on mighty well until, by dad, the goose got stricken in years like her master, and couldn't divert him no longer, and then it was that the poor king was lost entirely. the king was walkin' one mornin' by the edge of the lake, lamentin' his cruel fate, and thinking of drowning himself, that could get no diversion in life, when all of a sudden, turning round the corner, whom should he meet but a mighty decent young man coming up to him. [illustration:] "god save you," says the king to the young man. "god save you kindly, king o'toole," says the young man. "true for you," says the king. "i am king o'toole," says he, "prince and plennypennytinchery of these parts," says he; "but how came ye to know that?" says he. "oh, never mind," says st. kavin. you see it was saint kavin, sure enough--the saint himself in disguise, and nobody else. "oh, never mind," says he, "i know more than that. may i make bold to ask how is your goose, king o'toole?" says he. "blur-an-agers, how came ye to know about my goose?" says the king. "oh, no matter; i was given to understand it," says saint kavin. after some more talk the king says, "what are you?" "i'm an honest man," says saint kavin. "well, honest man," says the king, "and how is it you make your money so aisy?" "by makin' old things as good as new," says saint kavin. "is it a tinker you are?" says the king. "no," says the saint; "i'm no tinker by trade, king o'toole; i've a better trade than a tinker," says he--"what would you say," says he, "if i made your old goose as good as new?" my dear, at the word of making his goose as good as new, you'd think the poor old king's eyes were ready to jump out of his head. with that the king whistled, and down came the poor goose, just like a hound, waddling up to the poor cripple, her master, and as like him as two peas. the minute the saint clapt his eyes on the goose, "i'll do the job for you," says he, "king o'toole." "by _jaminee_!" says king o'toole, "if you do, i'll say you're the cleverest fellow in the seven parishes." "oh, by dad," says st. kavin, "you must say more nor that--my horn's not so soft all out," says he, "as to repair your old goose for nothing;" "what'll you gi' me if i do the job for you?--that's the chat," says st. kavin. "i'll give you whatever you ask," says the king "isn't that fair?" "divil a fairer," says the saint, "that's the way to do business. now," says he, "this is the bargain i'll make with you, king o'toole: will you gi' me all the ground the goose flies over, the first offer, after i make her as good as new?" "i will," says the king. "you won't go back o' your word?" says st. kavin. "honour bright!" says king o'toole, holding out his fist. "honour bright!" says st. kavin, back again, "it's a bargain. come here!" says he to the poor old goose--"come here, you unfortunate ould cripple, and it's i that'll make you the sporting bird." with that, my dear, he took up the goose by the two wings--"criss o' my cross an you," says he, markin' her to grace with the blessed sign at the same minute--and throwing her up in the air, "whew," says he, jist givin' her a blast to help her; and with that, my jewel, she took to her heels, flyin' like one o' the eagles themselves, and cutting as many capers as a swallow before a shower of rain. well, my dear, it was a beautiful sight to see the king standing with his mouth open, looking at his poor old goose flying as light as a lark, and better than ever she was; and when she lit at his feet, patted her on the head, and "_ma vourneen_," says he "but you are the _darlint_ o' the world." [illustration:] "and what do you say to me," says saint kavin, "for making her the like?" "by jabers," says the king, "i say nothing beats the art o' man, barring the bees." "and do you say no more nor that?" says saint kavin. "and that i'm beholden to you," says the king. "but will you gi'e me all the ground the goose flew over?" says saint kavin. "i will," says king o'toole, "and you're welcome to it," says he, "though it's the last acre i have to give." "but you'll keep your word true," says the saint. "as true as the sun," says the king. "it's well for you, king o'toole, that you said that word," says he; "for if you didn't say that word, the divil the bit o' your goose would ever fly agin." when the king was as good as his word, saint kavin was pleased with him, and then it was that he made himself known to the king. "and," says he, "king o'toole, you're a decent man, for i only came here to try you. you don't know me," says he, "because i'm disguised." "musha! then," says the king, "who are you?" "i'm saint kavin," said the saint, blessing himself. "oh, queen of heaven!" says the king, making the sign of the cross between his eyes, and falling down on his knees before the saint; "is it the great saint kavin," says he, "that i've been discoursing all this time without knowing it," says he, "all as one as if he was a lump of a _gossoon_?--and so you're a saint?" says the king. "i am," says saint kavin. "by jabers, i thought i was only talking to a dacent boy," says the king. "well, you know the difference now," says the saint. "i'm saint kavin," says he, "the greatest of all the saints." and so the king had his goose as good as new, to divert him as long as he lived; and the saint supported him after he came into his property, as i told you, until the day of his death--and that was soon after; for the poor goose thought he was catching a trout one friday; but, my jewel, it was a mistake he made--and instead of a trout, it was a thieving horse-eel; and instead of the goose killing a trout for the king's supper--by dad, the eel killed the king's goose--and small blame to him; but he didn't ate her, because he darn't ate what saint kavin had laid his blessed hands on. the wooing of olwen shortly after the birth of kilhuch, the son of king kilyth, his mother died. before her death she charged the king that he should not take a wife again until he saw a briar with two blossoms upon her grave, and the king sent every morning to see if anything were growing thereon. after many years the briar appeared, and he took to wife the widow of king doged. she foretold to her stepson, kilhuch, that it was his destiny to marry a maiden named olwen, or none other, and he, at his father's bidding, went to the court of his cousin, king arthur, to ask as a boon the hand of the maiden. he rode upon a grey steed with shell-formed hoofs, having a bridle of linked gold, and a saddle also of gold. in his hand were two spears of silver, well-tempered, headed with steel, of an edge to wound the wind and cause blood to flow, and swifter than the fall of the dew-drop from the blade of reed grass upon the earth when the dew of june is at its heaviest. a gold-hilted sword was on his thigh, and the blade was of gold, having inlaid upon it a cross of the hue of the lightning of heaven. two brindled, white-breasted greyhounds, with strong collars of rubies, sported round him, and his courser cast up four sods with its four hoofs like four swallows about his head. upon the steed was a four-cornered cloth of purple, and an apple of gold was at each corner. precious gold was upon the stirrups and shoes, and the blade of grass bent not beneath them, so light was the courser's tread as he went towards the gate of king arthur's palace. arthur received him with great ceremony, and asked him to remain at the palace; but the youth replied that he came not to consume meat and drink, but to ask a boon of the king. then said arthur, "since thou wilt not remain here, chieftain, thou shalt receive the boon, whatsoever thy tongue may name, as far as the wind dries and the rain moistens, and the sun revolves, and the sea encircles, and the earth extends, save only my ships and my mantle, my sword, my lance, my shield, my dagger, and guinevere my wife." so kilhuch craved of him the hand of olwen, the daughter of yspathaden penkawr, and also asked the favour and aid of all arthur's court. then said arthur, "o chieftain, i have never heard of the maiden of whom thou speakest, nor of her kindred, but i will gladly send messengers in search of her." and the youth said, "i will willingly grant from this night to that at the end of the year to do so." then arthur sent messengers to every land within his dominions to seek for the maiden; and at the end of the year arthur's messengers returned without having gained any knowledge or information concerning olwen more than on the first day. then said kilhuch, "every one has received his boon, and i yet lack mine. i will depart and bear away thy honour with me." then said kay, "rash chieftain! dost thou reproach arthur? go with us, and we will not part until thou dost either confess that the maiden exists not in the world, or until we obtain her." thereupon kay rose up. kay had this peculiarity, that his breath lasted nine nights and nine days under water, and he could exist nine nights and nine days without sleep. a wound from kay's sword no physician could heal. very subtle was kay. when it pleased him he could render himself as tall as the highest tree in the forest. and he had another peculiarity--so great was the heat of his nature, that, when it rained hardest, whatever he carried remained dry for a handbreadth above and a handbreadth below his hand; and when his companions were coldest, it was to them as fuel with which to light their fire. and arthur called bedwyr, who never shrank from any enterprise upon which kay was bound. none was equal to him in swiftness throughout this island except arthur and drych ail kibthar. and although he was one-handed, three warriors could not shed blood faster than he on the field of battle. another property he had; his lance would produce a wound equal to nine opposing lances. and arthur called to kynthelig the guide. "go thou upon this expedition with the chieftain." for as good a guide was he in a land which he had never seen as he was in his own. he called gwrhyr gwalstawt ieithoedd, because he knew all tongues. he called gwalchmai, the son of gwyar, because he never returned home without achieving the adventure of which he went in quest. he was the best of footmen and the best of knights. he was nephew to arthur, the son of his sister, and his cousin. and arthur called menw, the son of tiergwaeth, in order that if they went into a savage country, he might cast a charm and an illusion over them, so that none might see them whilst they could see every one. they journeyed on till they came to a vast open plain, wherein they saw a great castle, which was the fairest in the world. but so far away was it that at night it seemed no nearer, and they scarcely reached it on the third day. when they came before the castle they beheld a vast flock of sheep, boundless and without end. they told their errand to the herdsman, who endeavoured to dissuade them, since none who had come thither on that quest had returned alive. they gave to him a gold ring, which he conveyed to his wife, telling her who the visitors were. on the approach of the latter, she ran out with joy to greet them, and sought to throw her arms about their necks. but kay, snatching a billet out of the pile, placed the log between her two hands, and she squeezed it so that it became a twisted coil. "o woman," said kay, "if thou hadst squeezed me thus, none could ever again have set their affections on me. evil love were this." they entered the house, and after meat she told them that the maiden olwen came there every saturday to wash. they pledged their faith that they would not harm her, and a message was sent to her. so olwen came, clothed in a robe of flame-coloured silk, and with a collar of ruddy gold, in which were emeralds and rubies, about her neck. more golden was her hair than the flower of the broom, and her skin was whiter than the foam of the wave, and fairer were her hands and her fingers than the blossoms of the wood anemone amidst the spray of the meadow fountain. brighter were her glances than those of a falcon; her bosom was more snowy than the breast of the white swan, her cheek redder than the reddest roses. whoso beheld was filled with her love. four white trefoils sprang up wherever she trod, and therefore was she called olwen. then kilhuch, sitting beside her on a bench, told her his love, and she said that he would win her as his bride if he granted whatever her father asked. accordingly they went up to the castle and laid their request before him. "raise up the forks beneath my two eyebrows which have fallen over my eyes," said yspathaden penkawr, "that i may see the fashion of my son-in-law." they did so, and he promised them an answer on the morrow. but as they were going forth yspathaden seized one of the three poisoned darts that lay beside him and threw it back after them. and bedwyr caught it and flung it back, wounding yspathaden in the knee. then said he, "a cursed ungentle son-in-law, truly i shall ever walk the worse for his rudeness. this poisoned iron pains me like the bite of a gad-fly. cursed be the smith who forged it, and the anvil whereon it was wrought." [illustration:] the knights rested in the house of custennin the herdsman, but the next day at dawn they returned to the castle and renewed their request. yspathaden said it was necessary that he should consult olwen's four great-grandmothers and her four great grand sires. the knights again withdrew, and as they were going he took the second dart and cast it after them. but menw caught it and flung it back, piercing yspathaden's breast with it, so that it came out at the small of his back. "a cursed ungentle son-in-law, truly," says he, "the hard iron pains me like the bite of a horse-leech. cursed be the hearth whereon it was heated! henceforth whenever i go up a hill, i shall have a scant in my breath and a pain in my chest." on the third day the knights returned once more to the palace, and yspathaden took the third dart and cast it at them. but kilhuch caught it and threw it vigorously, and wounded him through the eyeball, so that the dart came out at the back of his head. "a cursed ungentle son-in-law, truly. as long as i remain alive my eyesight will be the worse. whenever i go against the wind my eyes will water, and peradventure my head will burn, and i shall have a giddiness every new moon. cursed be the fire in which it was forged. like the bite of a mad dog is the stroke of this poisoned iron." and they went to meat. said yspathaden penkawr, "is it thou that seekest my daughter?" "it is i," answered kilhuch. "i must have thy pledge that thou wilt not do towards me otherwise than is just, and when i have gotten that which i shall name, my daughter thou shalt have." "i promise thee that willingly," said kilhuch, "name what thou wilt." "i will do so," said he. "throughout the world there is not a comb or scissors with which i can arrange my hair, on account of its rankness, except the comb and scissors that are between the two ears of turch truith, the son of prince tared. he will not give them of his own free will, and thou wilt not be able to compel him." "it will be easy for me to compass this, although thou mayest think that it will not be easy." "though thou get this, there is yet that which thou wilt not get. it will not be possible to hunt turch truith without drudwyn the whelp of greid, the son of eri, and know that throughout the world there is not a huntsman who can hunt with this dog, except mabon the son of modron. he was taken from his mother when three nights old, and it is not known where he is now, nor whether he is living or dead." "it will be easy for me to compass this, although thou mayest think that it will not be easy." "though thou get this, there is yet that which thou wilt not get. thou wilt not get mabon, for it is not known where he is, unless thou find eidoel, his kinsman in blood, the son of aer. for it would be useless to seek for him. he is his cousin." "it will be easy for me to compass this, although thou mayest think that it will not be easy. horses shall i have, and chivalry; and my lord and kinsman arthur will obtain for me all these things. and i shall gain thy daughter, and thou shalt lose thy life." "go forward. and thou shalt not be chargeable for food or raiment for my daughter while thou art seeking these things; and when thou hast compassed all these marvels, thou shalt have my daughter for wife." now, when they told arthur how they had sped, arthur said, "which of these marvels will it be best for us to seek first?" "it will be best," said they, "to seek mabon the son of modron; and he will not be found unless we first find eidoel, the son of aer, his kinsman." then arthur rose up, and the warriors of the islands of britain with him, to seek for eidoel; and they proceeded until they came before the castle of glivi, where eidoel was imprisoned. glivi stood on the summit of his castle, and said, "arthur, what requirest thou of me, since nothing remains to me in this fortress, and i have neither joy nor pleasure in it; neither wheat nor oats?" said arthur, "not to injure thee came i hither, but to seek for the prisoner that is with thee." "i will give thee my prisoner, though i had not thought to give him up to any one; and therewith shalt thou have my support and my aid." his followers then said unto arthur, "lord, go thou home, thou canst not proceed with thy host in quest of such small adventures as these." then said arthur, "it were well for thee, gwrhyr gwalstawt ieithoedd, to go upon this quest, for thou knowest all languages, and art familiar with those of the birds and the beasts. go, eidoel, likewise with my men in search of thy cousin. and as for you, kay and bedwyr, i have hope of whatever adventure ye are in quest of, that ye will achieve it. achieve ye this adventure for me." these went forward until they came to the ousel of cilgwri, and gwrhyr adjured her for the sake of heaven, saying, "tell me if thou knowest aught of mabon, the son of modron, who was taken when three nights old from between his mother and the wall." and the ousel answered, "when i first came here there was a smith's anvil in this place, and i was then a young bird, and from that time no work has been done upon it, save the pecking of my beak every evening, and now there is not so much as the size of a nut remaining thereof; yet the vengeance of heaven be upon me if during all that time i have ever heard of the man for whom you inquire. nevertheless, there is a race of animals who were formed before me, and i will be your guide to them." so they proceeded to the place where was the stag of redynvre. "stag of redynvre, behold we are come to thee, an embassy from arthur, for we have not heard of any animal older than thou. say, knowest thou aught of mabon?" the stag said, "when first i came hither, there was a plain all around me, without any trees save one oak sapling, which grew up to be an oak with an hundred branches. and that oak has since perished, so that now nothing remains of it but the withered stump; and from that day to this i have been here, yet have i never heard of the man for whom you inquire. nevertheless, i will be your guide to the place where there is an animal which was formed before i was." so they proceeded to the place where was the owl of cwm cawlwyd, to inquire of him concerning mabon. and the owl said, "if i knew i would tell you. when first i came hither, the wide valley you see was a wooded glen. and a race of men came and rooted it up. and there grew there a second wood, and this wood is the third. my wings, are they not withered stumps? yet all this time, even until to-day, i have never heard of the man for whom you inquire. nevertheless, i will be the guide of arthur's embassy until you come to the place where is the oldest animal in this world, and the one who has travelled most, the eagle of gwern abwy." when they came to the eagle, gwrhyr asked it the same question; but it replied, "i have been here for a great space of time, and when i first came hither there was a rock here, from the top of which i pecked at the stars every evening, and now it is not so much as a span high. from that day to this i have been here, and i have never heard of the man for whom you inquire, except once when i went in search of food as far as llyn llyw. and when i came there, i stuck my talons into a salmon, thinking he would serve me as food for a long time. but he drew me into the deep, and i was scarcely able to escape from him. after that i went with my whole kindred to attack him, and to try to destroy him, but he sent messengers and made peace with me, and came and besought me to take fifty fish spears out of his back. unless he know something of him whom you seek, i cannot tell you who may. however, i will guide you to the place where he is." so they went thither, and the eagle said, "salmon of llyn llyw, i have come to thee with an embassy from arthur to ask thee if thou knowest aught concerning mabon, the son of modron, who was taken away at three nights old from between his mother and the wall." and the salmon answered, "as much as i know i will tell thee. with every tide i go along the river upwards, until i come near to the walls of gloucester, and there have i found such wrong as i never found elsewhere; and to the end that ye may give credence thereto, let one of you go thither upon each of my two shoulders." so kay and gwrhyr went upon his shoulders, and they proceeded till they came to the wall of the prison, and they heard a great wailing and lamenting from the dungeon. said gwrhyr, "who is it that laments in this house of stone?" and the voice replied, "alas, it is mabon, the son of modron, who is here imprisoned!" then they returned and told arthur, who, summoning his warriors attacked the castle. [illustration: gwrhyr and eidoel talk with the eagle of gwern abwy.] and whilst the fight was going on, kay and bedwyr, mounting on the shoulders of the fish, broke into the dungeon, and brought away with them mabon, the son of modron. then arthur summoned unto him all the warriors that were in the three islands of britain and in the three islands adjacent; and he went as far as esgeir oervel in ireland where the boar truith was with his seven young pigs. and the dogs were let loose upon him from all sides. but he wasted the fifth part of ireland, and then set forth through the sea to wales. arthur and his hosts, and his horses, and his dogs followed hard after him. but ever and awhile the boar made a stand, and many a champion of arthur's did he slay. throughout all wales did arthur follow him, and one by one the young pigs were killed. at length, when he would fain have crossed the severn, and escaped into cornwall, mabon, the son of modron, came up with him, and arthur fell upon him, together with the champions of britain. on the one side, mabon, the son of modron, spurred his steed and snatched his razor from him, whilst kay came up with him on the other side and took from him the scissors. but, before they could obtain the comb, he had regained the ground with his feet, and from the moment that he reached the shore, neither dog nor man nor horse could overtake him until he came to cornwall. there arthur and his host followed in his track until they overtook him in cornwall. hard had been their trouble before, but it was child's play to what they met in seeking the comb. win it they did, and the boar truith they hunted into the deep sea, and it was never known whither he went. then kilhuch set forward, and as many as wished ill to yspathaden penkawr. and they took the marvels with them to his court. and kaw of north britain came and shaved his beard, skin and flesh clean off to the very bone from ear to ear. "art thou shaved man?" said kilhuch. "i am shaved," answered he. "is thy daughter mine now?" "she is thine, but therefore needst thou not thank me, but arthur who hath accomplished this for thee. by my free will thou shouldst never have had her, for with her i lose my life." then goreu, the son of custennin, seized him by the hair of his head and dragged him after him to the keep, and cut off his head and placed it on a stake on the citadel. thereafter the hosts of arthur dispersed themselves each man to his own country. thus did kilhuch, son of kelython, win to wife olwen, the daughter of yspathaden penkawr. jack and his comrades once there was a poor widow, as often there has been, and she had one son. a very scarce summer came, and they didn't know how they'd live till the new potatoes would be fit for eating. so jack said to his mother one evening, "mother, bake my cake, and kill my hen, till i go seek my fortune; and if i meet it, never fear but i'll soon be back to share it with you." so she did as he asked her, and he set out at break of day on his journey. his mother came along with him to the yard gate, and says she, "jack, which would you rather have, half the cake and half the hen with my blessing, or the whole of 'em with my curse?" "o musha, mother," says jack, "why do you ax me that question? sure you know i wouldn't have your curse and damer's estate along with it." "well, then, jack," says she, "here's the whole lot of 'em, with my thousand blessings along with them." so she stood on the yard fence and blessed him as far as her eyes could see him. well, he went along and along till he was tired, and ne'er a farmer's house he went into wanted a boy at last his road led by the side of a bog, and there was a poor ass up to his shoulders near a big bunch of grass he was striving to come at. "ah, then, jack asthore," says he, "help me out or i'll be drowned." "never say't twice," says jack, and he pitched in big stones and sods into the slob, till the ass got good ground under him. "thank you, jack," says he, when he was out on the hard road; "i'll do as much for you another time. where are you going?" "faith, i'm going to seek my fortune till harvest comes in, god bless it!" "and if you like," says the ass, "i'll go along with you; who knows what luck we may have!" "with all my heart; it's getting late, let us be jogging." well, they were going through a village, and a whole army of gossoons were hunting a poor dog with a kettle tied to his tail. he ran up to jack for protection, and the ass let such a roar out of him, that the little thieves took to their heels as if the ould boy was after them. "more power to you, jack," says the dog. "i'm much obleeged to you: where is the baste and yourself going?" "we're going to seek our fortune till harvest comes in." "and wouldn't i be proud to go with you!" says the dog, "and get rid of them ill-conducted boys; purshuin' to 'em." "well, well, throw your tail over your arm, and come along." they got outside the town, and sat down under an old wall, and jack pulled out his bread and meat, and shared with the dog; and the ass made his dinner on a bunch of thistles. while they were eating and chatting, what should come by but a poor half-starved cat, and the moll-row he gave out of him would make your heart ache. "you look as if you saw the tops of nine houses since breakfast," says jack; "here's a bone and something on it." "may your child never know a hungry belly!" says tom; "it's myself that's in need of your kindness. may i be so bold as to ask where yez are all going?" "we're going to seek our fortune till the harvest comes in, and you may join us if you like." "and that i'll do with a heart and a half," says the cat, "and thank 'ee for asking me." off they set again, and just as the shadows of the trees were three times as long as themselves, they heard a great cackling in a field inside the road, and out over the ditch jumped a fox with a fine black cock in his mouth. "oh, you anointed villain!" says the ass, roaring like thunder. "at him, good dog!" says jack, and the word wasn't out of his mouth when coley was in full sweep after the red dog. reynard dropped his prize like a hot potato, and was off like a shot, and the poor cock came back fluttering and trembling to jack and his comrades. "o musha, naybours!" says he, "wasn't it the height o' luck that threw you in my way! maybe i won't remember your kindness if ever i find you in hardship; and where in the world are you all going?" "we're going to seek our fortune till the harvest comes in; you may join our party if you like, and sit on neddy's crupper when your legs and wings are tired." well, the march began again, and just as the sun was gone down they looked around, and there was neither cabin nor farm house in sight. "well, well," says jack, "the worse luck now the better another time, and it's only a summer night after all. we'll go into the wood, and make our bed on the long grass." no sooner said than done. jack stretched himself on a bunch of dry grass, the ass lay near him, the dog and cat lay in the ass's warm lap, and the cock went to roost in the next tree. well, the soundness of deep sleep was over them all, when the cock took a notion of crowing. "bother you, black cock!" says the ass; "you disturbed me from as nice a whisp of hay as ever i tasted. what's the matter?" "it's daybreak that's the matter; don't you see light yonder?" "i see a light indeed," says jack, "but it's from a candle it's coming, and not from the sun. as you've roused us we may as well go over and ask for lodging." so they all shook themselves, and went on through grass, and rocks, and briars, till they got down into a hollow, and there was the light coming through the shadow, and along with it came singing, and laughing, and cursing. "easy, boys!" says jack; "walk on your tippy toes till we see what sort of people we have to deal with." so they crept near the window, and there they saw six robbers inside, with pistols, and blunderbushes, and cutlashes, sitting at a table, eating roast beef and pork, and drinking mulled beer, and wine, and whisky punch. "wasn't that a fine haul we made at the lord of dunlavin's?" says one ugly-looking thief with his mouth full, "and it's little we'd get only for the honest porter! here's his purty health!" "the porter's purty health!" cried out every one of them, and jack bent his finger at his comrades. [illustration:] "close your ranks, my men," says he in a whisper, "and let every one mind the word of command." so the ass put his fore-hoofs on the sill of the window, the dog got on the ass's head, the cat on the dog's head, and the cock on the cat's head. then jack made a sign, and they all sang out like mad. "hee-haw, hee-haw!" roared the ass; "bow-wow!" barked the dog; "meaw-meaw!" cried the cat; "cock-a-doodle-doo!" crowed the cock. "level your pistols!" cried jack, "and make smithereens of 'em. don't leave a mother's son of 'em alive; present, fire!" with that they gave another halloo, and smashed every pane in the window. the robbers were frightened out of their lives. they blew out the candles, threw down the table, and skelped out at the back door as if they were in earnest, and never drew rein till they were in the very heart of the wood. jack and his party got into the room, closed the shutters, lighted the candles, and ate and drank till hunger and thirst were gone. then they lay down to rest;--jack in the bed, the ass in the stable, the dog on the door-mat, the cat by the fire, and the cock on the perch. at first the robbers were very glad to find themselves safe in the thick wood, but they soon began to get vexed. "this damp grass is very different from our warm room," says one. "i was obliged to drop a fine pig's foot," says another. "i didn't get a tayspoonful of my last tumbler," says another. "and all the lord of dunlavin's gold and silver that we left behind," says the last. "i think i'll venture back," says the captain, "and see if we can recover anything." "that's a good boy," said they all, and away he went. the lights were all out, and so he groped his way to the fire, and there the cat flew in his face, and tore him with teeth and claws. he let a roar out of him, and made for the room door, to look for a candle inside. he trod on the dog's tail, and if he did, he got the marks of his teeth in his arms, and legs, and thighs. "thousand murders!" cried he; "i wish i was out of this unlucky house." when he got to the street door, the cock dropped down upon him with his claws and bill, and what the cat and dog done to him was only a flay-bite to what he got from the cock. "oh, tattheration to you all, you unfeeling vagabones!" says he, when he recovered his breath; and he staggered and spun round and round till he reeled into the stable, back foremost, but the ass received him with a kick on the broadest part of his small clothes, and laid him comfortably on the dunghill. when he came to himself, he scratched his head, and began to think what happened him; and as soon as he found that his legs were able to carry him, he crawled away, dragging one foot after another, till he reached the wood. "well, well," cried them all, when he came within hearing, "any chance of our property?" "you may say chance," says he, "and it's itself is the poor chance all out. ah, will any of you pull a bed of dry grass for me? all the sticking-plaster in enniscorthy will be too little for the cuts and bruises i have on me. ah, if you only knew what i have gone through for you! when i got to the kitchen fire, looking for a sod of lighted turf, what should be there but an old woman carding flax, and you may see the marks she left on my face with the cards. i made to the room door as fast as i could, and who should i stumble over but a cobler and his seat, and if he did not work at me with his awls and his pinchers, you may call me a rogue. well, i got away from him somehow, but when i was passing through the door, it must be the divil himself that pounced down on me with his claws, and his teeth, that were equal to sixpenny nails, and his wings--ill luck be in his road! well, at last i reached the stable, and there, by way of salute, i got a pelt from a sledge-hammer that sent me half a mile off. if you don't believe me, i'll give you leave to go and judge for yourselves." "oh, my poor captain," says they, "we believe you to the nines. catch us, indeed, going within a hen's race of that unlucky cabin!" well, before the sun shook his doublet next morning, jack and his comrades were up and about. they made a hearty breakfast on what was left the night before, and then they all agreed to set off to the castle of the lord of dunlavin, and give him back all his gold and silver. jack put it all in the two ends of a sack and laid it across neddy's back, and all took the road in their hands. away they went, through bogs, up hills, down dales, and sometimes along the yellow high road, till they came to the hall-door of the lord of dunlavin, and who should be there, airing his powdered head, his white stockings, and his red breeches, but the thief of a porter. he gave a cross look to the visitors, and says he to jack, "what do you want here, my fine fellow? there isn't room for you all." "we want," says jack, "what i'm sure you haven't to give us--and that is, common civility." "come, be off, you lazy strollers!" says he, "while a cat 'ud be licking her ear, or i'll let the dogs at you." "would you tell a body," says the cock that was perched on the ass's head, "who was it that opened the door for the robbers the other night?" ah! maybe the porter's red face didn't turn the colour of his frill, and the lord of dunlavin and his pretty daughter, that were standing at the parlour window unknownst to the porter, put out their heads. "i'd be glad, barney," says the master, "to hear your answer to the gentleman with the red comb on him." "ah, my lord, don't believe the rascal; sure i didn't open the door to the six robbers." "and how did you know there were six, you poor innocent?" said the lord. "never mind, sir," says jack, "all your gold and silver is there in that sack, and i don't think you will begrudge us our supper and bed after our long march from the wood of athsalach." "begrudge, indeed! not one of you will ever see a poor day if i can help it." so all were welcomed to their hearts' content, and the ass and the dog and the cock got the best posts in the farmyard, and the cat took possession of the kitchen. the lord took jack in hands, dressed him from top to toe in broadcloth, and frills as white as snow, and turnpumps, and put a watch in his fob. when they sat down to dinner, the lady of the house said jack had the air of a born gentleman about him, and the lord said he'd make him his steward. jack brought his mother, and settled her comfortably near the castle, and all were as happy as you please. the shee an gannon and the gruagach gaire the shee an gannon was born in the morning, named at noon, and went in the evening to ask his daughter of the king of erin. "i will give you my daughter in marriage," said the king of erin; "you won't get her, though, unless you go and bring me back the tidings that i want, and tell me what it is that put a stop to the laughing of the gruagach gaire, who before this laughed always, and laughed so loud that the whole world heard him. there are twelve iron spikes out here in the garden behind my castle. on eleven of the spikes are the heads of kings' sons who came seeking my daughter in marriage, and all of them went away to get the knowledge i wanted. not one was able to get it and tell me what stopped the gruagach gaire from laughing. i took the heads off them all when they came back without the tidings for which they went, and i'm greatly in dread that your head'll be on the twelfth spike, for i'll do the same to you that i did to the eleven kings' sons unless you tell what put a stop to the laughing of the gruagach." the shee an gannon made no answer, but left the king and pushed away to know could he find why the gruagach was silent. he took a glen at a step, a hill at a leap, and travelled all day till evening. then he came to a house. the master of the house asked him what sort was he, and he said: "a young man looking for hire." "well," said the master of the house, "i was going to-morrow to look for a man to mind my cows. if you'll work for me, you'll have a good place, the best food a man could have to eat in this world, and a soft bed to lie on." the shee an gannon took service, and ate his supper. then the master of the house said: "i am the gruagach gaire; now that you are my man and have eaten your supper, you'll have a bed of silk to sleep on." next morning after breakfast the gruagach said to the shee an gannon: "go out now and loosen my five golden cows and my bull without horns, and drive them to pasture; but when you have them out on the grass, be careful you don't let them go near the land of the giant." the new cowboy drove the cattle to pasture, and when near the land of the giant, he saw it was covered with woods and surrounded by a high wall. he went up, put his back against the wall, and threw in a great stretch of it; then he went inside and threw out another great stretch of the wall, and put the five golden cows and the bull without horns on the land of the giant. then he climbed a tree, ate the sweet apples himself, and threw the sour ones down to the cattle of the gruagach gaire. soon a great crashing was heard in the woods,--the noise of young trees bending, and old trees breaking. the cowboy looked around, and saw a five-headed giant pushing through the trees; and soon he was before him. "poor miserable creature!" said the giant; "but weren't you impudent to come to my land and trouble me in this way? you're too big for one bite, and too small for two. i don't know what to do but tear you to pieces." "you nasty brute," said the cowboy, coming down to him from the tree, "'tis little i care for you"; and then they went at each other. so great was the noise between them that there was nothing in the world but what was looking on and listening to the combat. they fought till late in the afternoon when the giant was getting the upper hand; and then the cowboy thought that if the giant should kill him, his father and mother would never find him or set eyes on him again, and he would never get the daughter of the king of erin. the heart in his body grew strong at this thought. he sprang on the giant, and with the first squeeze and thrust he put him to his knees in the hard ground, with the second thrust to his waist, and with the third to his shoulders. "i have you at last; you're done for now!" said the cowboy. then he took out his knife, cut the five heads off the giant, and when he had them off he cut out the tongues and threw the heads over the wall. then he put the tongues in his pocket and drove home the cattle. that evening the gruagach couldn't find vessels enough in his palace to hold the milk of the five golden cows. but when the cowboy was on the way home with the cattle, the son of the king of tisean came and took the giant's heads and claimed the princess in marriage when the gruagach gaire should laugh. after supper the cowboy would give no talk to his master, but kept his mind to himself, and went to the bed of silk to sleep. on the morning the cowboy rose before his master, and the first words he said to gruagach were: "what keeps you from laughing, you who used to laugh so loud that the whole world heard you?" "i'm sorry," said the gruagach, "that the daughter of the king of erin sent you here." "if you don't tell me of your own will, i'll make you tell me," said the cowboy; and he put a face on himself that was terrible to look at, and, running through the house like a madman, could find nothing that would give pain enough to the gruagach but some ropes made of untanned sheep-skin hanging on the wall. he took these down, caught the gruagach, fastened him by the three smalls, and tied him so that his little toes were whispering to his ears. when he was in this state the gruagach said: "i'll tell you what stopped my laughing if you set me free." so the cowboy unbound him, the two sat down together, and the gruagach said:-- "i lived in this castle here with my twelve sons. we ate, drank, played cards, and enjoyed ourselves, till one day, when my sons and i were playing, a slender brown hare came rushing in, jumped on to the hearth, tossed up the ashes to the rafters and ran away. "on another day he came again; but if he did, we were ready for him, my twelve sons and myself. as soon as he tossed up the ashes and ran off, we made after him, and followed him till nightfall, when he went into a glen. we saw a light before us. i ran on, and came to a house with a great apartment, where there was a man named yellow face with twelve daughters, and the hare was tied to the side of the room near the women. "there was a large pot over the fire in the room, and a great stork boiling in the pot. the man of the house said to me, 'there are bundles of rushes at the end of the room, go there and sit down with your men!' "he went into the next room and brought out two pikes, one of wood, the other of iron, and asked me which of the pikes would i take. i said, 'i'll take the iron one'; for i thought in my heart that if an attack should come on me, i could defend myself better with the iron than the wooden pike. "yellow face gave me the iron pike, and the first chance of taking what i could out of the pot on the point of the pike. i got but a small piece of the stork, and the man of the house took all the rest on his wooden pike. we had to fast that night; and when the man and his twelve daughters ate the flesh of the stork, they hurled the bare bones in the faces of my sons and myself. "we had to stop all night that way, beaten on the faces by the bones of the stork. "next morning, when we were going away, the man of the house asked me to stay a while; and going into the next room, he brought out twelve loops of iron and one of wood, and said to me: 'put the heads of your twelve sons into the iron loops, or your own head into the wooden one'; and i said: 'i'll put the twelve heads of my sons in the iron loops, and keep my own out of the wooden one.' "he put the iron loops on the necks of my twelve sons, and put the wooden one on his own neck. then he snapped the loops one after another, till he took the heads off my twelve sons and threw the heads and bodies out of the house; but he did nothing to hurt his own neck. "when he had killed my sons he took hold of me and stripped the skin and flesh from the small of my back down, and when he had done that he took the skin of a black sheep that had been hanging on the wall for seven years and clapped it on my body in place of my own flesh and skin; and the sheep-skin grew on me, and every year since then i shear myself, and every bit of wool i use for the stockings that i wear i clip off my own back." when he had said this, the gruagach showed the cowboy his back covered with thick black wool. after what he had seen and heard, the cowboy said: "i know now why you don't laugh, and small blame to you. but does that hare come here still?" "he does indeed," said the gruagach. both went to the table to play, and they were not long playing cards when the hare ran in; and before they could stop him he was out again. but the cowboy made after the hare, and the gruagach after the cowboy, and they ran as fast as ever their legs could carry them till nightfall; and when the hare was entering the castle where the twelve sons of the gruagach were killed, the cowboy caught him by the two hind legs and dashed out his brains against the wall; and the skull of the hare was knocked into the chief room of the castle, and fell at the feet of the master of the place. "who has dared to interfere with my fighting pet?" screamed yellow face. "i," said the cowboy; "and if your pet had had manners, he might be alive now." the cowboy and the gruagach stood by the fire. a stork was boiling in the pot, as when the gruagach came the first time. the master of the house went into the next room and brought out an iron and a wooden pike, and asked the cowboy which would he choose. "i'll take the wooden one," said the cowboy; "and you may keep the iron one for yourself." so he took the wooden one; and going to the pot, brought out on the pike all the stork except a small bite, and he and the gruagach fell to eating, and they were eating the flesh of the stork all night. the cowboy and the gruagach were at home in the place that time. in the morning the master of the house went into the next room, took down the twelve iron loops with a wooden one, brought them out, and asked the cowboy which would he take, the twelve iron or the one wooden loop. "what could i do with the twelve iron ones for myself or my master? i'll take the wooden one." he put it on, and taking the twelve iron loops, put them on the necks of the twelve daughters of the house, then snapped the twelve heads off them, and turning to their father, said: "i'll do the same thing to you unless you bring the twelve sons of my master to life, and make them as well and strong as when you took their heads." the master of the house went out and brought the twelve to life again; and when the gruagach saw all his sons alive and as well as ever, he let a laugh out of himself, and all the eastern world heard the laugh. then the cowboy said to the gruagach: "it's a bad thing you have done to me, for the daughter of the king of erin will be married the day after your laugh is heard." "oh! then we must be there in time," said the gruagach; and they all made away from the place as fast as ever they could, the cowboy, the gruagach, and his twelve sons. they hurried on; and when within three miles of the king's castle there was such a throng of people that no one could see a step ahead. "we must clear a road through this," said the cowboy. [illustration:] "we must indeed," said the gruagach; and at it they went, threw the people some on one side and some on the other, and soon they had an opening for themselves to the king's castle. as they went in, the daughter of the king of erin and the son of the king of tisean were on their knees just going to be married. the cowboy drew his hand on the bridegroom, and gave a blow that sent him spinning till he stopped under a table at the other side of the room. "what scoundrel struck that blow?" asked the king of erin. "it was i," said the cowboy. "what reason had you to strike the man who won my daughter?" "it was i who won your daughter, not he; and if you don't believe me, the gruagach gaire is here himself. he'll tell you the whole story from beginning to end, and show you the tongues of the giant." so the gruagach came up and told the king the whole story, how the shee an gannon had become his cowboy, had guarded the five golden cows and the bull without horns, cut off the heads of the five-headed giant, killed the wizard hare, and brought his own twelve sons to life. "and then," said the gruagach "he's the only man in the whole world i have ever told why i stopped laughing, and the only one who has ever seen my fleece of wool." when the king of erin heard what the gruagach said, and saw the tongues of the giant fitted in the head, he made the shee an gannon kneel down by his daughter, and they were married on the spot. then the son of the king of tisean was thrown into prison, and the next day they put down a great fire, and the deceiver was burnt to ashes. the wedding lasted nine days, and the last day was better than the first. the story-teller at fault at the time when the tuatha de danann held the sovereignty of ireland, there reigned in leinster a king, who was remarkably fond of hearing stories. like the other princes and chieftains of the island, he had a favourite story-teller, who held a large estate from his majesty, on condition of telling him a new story every night of his life, before he went to sleep. many indeed were the stories he knew, so that he had already reached a good old age without failing even for a single night in his task; and such was the skill he displayed that whatever cares of state or other annoyances might prey upon the monarch's mind, his story-teller was sure to send him to sleep. one morning the story-teller arose early, and as his custom was, strolled out into his garden, turning over in his mind incidents which he might weave into a story for the king at night. but this morning he found himself quite at fault; after pacing his whole demesne, he returned to his house without being able to think of anything new or strange. he found no difficulty in "there was once a king who had three sons," or "one day the king of all ireland," but further than that he could not get. at length he went in to breakfast, and found his wife much perplexed at his delay. "why don't you come to breakfast, my dear?" said she. "i have no mind to eat anything," replied the story-teller; "long as i have been in the service of the king of leinster, i never sat down to breakfast without having a new story ready for the evening, but this morning my mind is quite shut up, and i don't know what to do. i might as well lie down and die at once. i'll be disgraced for ever this evening, when the king calls for his story-teller." just at this moment the lady looked out of the window. "do you see that black thing at the end of the field?" said she. "i do," replied her husband. they drew nigh, and saw a miserable-looking old man lying on the ground with a wooden leg placed beside him. "who are you, my good man?" asked the story-teller. "oh, then, 'tis little matter who i am. i'm a poor, old, lame, decrepit, miserable creature, sitting down here to rest awhile." "an' what are you doing with that box and dice i see in your hand?" "i am waiting here to see if any one will play a game with me," replied the beggarman. "play with you! why what has a poor old man like you to play for?" "i have one hundred pieces of gold in this leathern purse," replied the old man. "you may as well play with him," said the story-teller's wife; "and perhaps you'll have something to tell the king in the evening." a smooth stone was placed between them, and upon it they cast their throws. it was but a little while and the story-teller lost every penny of his money. "much good may it do you, friend," said he, "what better hap could i look for, fool that i am!" "will you play again?" asked the old man. "don't be talking, man; you have all my money." "haven't you chariot and horses and hounds?" "well, what of them?" "i'll stake all the money i have against thine." "nonsense, man! do you think for all the money in ireland i'd run the risk of seeing my lady tramp home on foot?" "maybe you'd win," said the bocough. "maybe i wouldn't," said the story-teller. "play with him, husband," said his wife. "i don't mind walking, if you do, love." "i never refused you before," said the story-teller, "and i won't do so now." down he sat again, and in one throw lost horses, hounds, and chariot. "will you play again?" asked the beggar. "are you making game of me, man; what else have i to stake?" "i'll stake all my winnings against your wife," said the old man. the story-teller turned away in silence, but his wife stopped him. "accept his offer," said she. "this is the third time, and who knows what luck you may have? you'll surely win now." they played again, and the story-teller lost. no sooner had he done so, than to his sorrow and surprise, his wife went and sat down near the ugly old beggar. "is that the way you're leaving me?" said the story-teller. "sure i was won," said she. "you would not cheat the poor man, would you?" "have you any more to stake?" asked the old man. "you know very well i have not," replied the story-teller. "i'll stake the whole now, wife and all, against your own self," said the old man. again they played, and again the story-teller lost. "well! here i am, and what do you want with me?" "i'll soon let you know," said the old man, and he took from his pocket a long cord and a wand. "now," said he to the story-teller, "what kind of animal would you rather be, a deer, a fox, or a hare? you have your choice now, but you may not have it later." to make a long story short, the story-teller made his choice of a hare; the old man threw the cord round him, struck him with the wand, and lo! a long-eared, frisking hare was skipping and jumping on the green. but it wasn't for long; who but his wife called the hounds, and set them on him. the hare fled, the dogs followed. round the field ran a high wall, so that run as he might, he couldn't get out, and mightily diverted were beggar and lady to see him twist and double. in vain did he take refuge with his wife, she kicked him back again to the hounds, until at length the beggar stopped the hounds, and with a stroke of the wand, panting and breathless, the story-teller stood before them again. "and how did you like the sport?" said the beggar. "it might be sport to others," replied the story-teller, looking at his wife, "for my part i could well put up with the loss of it." "would it be asking too much," he went on to the beggar, "to know who you are at all, or where you come from, or why you take a pleasure in plaguing a poor old man like me?" "oh!" replied the stranger, "i'm an odd kind of good-for-little fellow, one day poor, another day rich, but if you wish to know more about me or my habits, come with me and perhaps i may show you more than you would make out if you went alone." "i'm not my own master to go or stay," said the story-teller, with a sigh. the stranger put one hand into his wallet and drew out of it before their eyes a well-looking middle-aged man, to whom he spoke as follows: "by all you heard and saw since i put you into my wallet, take charge of this lady and of the carriage and horses, and have them ready for me whenever i want them." scarcely had he said these words when all vanished, and the story-teller found himself at the foxes' ford, near the castle of red hugh o'donnell. he could see all but none could see him. o'donnell was in his hall, and heaviness of flesh and weariness of spirit were upon him. "go out," said he to his doorkeeper, "and see who or what may be coming." the doorkeeper went, and what he saw was a lank, grey beggarman; half his sword bared behind his haunch, his two shoes full of cold road-a-wayish water sousing about him, the tips of his two ears out through his old hat, his two shoulders out through his scant, tattered cloak, and in his hand a green wand of holly. "save you, o'donnell," said the lank, grey beggarman. "and you likewise," said o'donnell. "whence come you, and what is your craft?" "i come from the outmost stream of earth, from the glens where the white swans glide, a night in islay, a night in man, a night on the cold hill-side." "it's the great traveller you are," said o'donnell. "may be you've learnt something on the road." "i am a juggler," said the lank, grey beggarman, "and for five pieces of silver you shall see a trick of mine." [illustration:] "you shall have them," said o'donnell; and the lank, grey beggarman took three small straws and placed them in his hand. "the middle one," said he, "i'll blow away; the other two i'll leave." "thou canst not do it," said one and all. but the lank, grey beggarman put a finger on either outside straw and, whiff, away he blew the middle one. "'tis a good trick," said o'donnell; and he paid him his five pieces of silver. "for half the money," said one of the chief's lads, "i'll do the same trick." "take him at his word, o'donnell." the lad put the three straws on his hand, and a finger on either outside straw and he blew; and what happened but that the fist was blown away with the straw. "thou art sore, and thou wilt be sorer," said o'donnell. "six more pieces, o'donnell, and i'll do another trick for thee," said the lank, grey beggarman. "six shalt thou have." "seest thou my two ears! one i'll move but not t'other." "'tis easy to see them, they're big enough, but thou canst never move one ear and not the two together." the lank, grey beggarman put his hand to his ear, and he gave it a pull. o'donnell laughed and paid him the six pieces. "call that a trick?" said the fistless lad, "any one can do that," and so saying, he put up his hand, pulled his ear, and what happened was that he pulled away ear and head. "sore thou art, and sorer thou 'lt be," said o'donnell. "well, o'donnell," said the lank, grey beggarman, "strange are the tricks i've shown thee, but i'll show thee a stranger one yet for the same money." "thou hast my word for it," said o'donnell. with that the lank, grey beggarman took a bag from under his arm-pit, and from out the bag a ball of silk, and he unwound the ball and he flung it slant-wise up into the clear blue heavens, and it became a ladder; then he took a hare and placed it upon the thread, and up it ran; again he took out a red-eared hound, and it swiftly ran up after the hare. "now," said the lank, grey beggarman, "has any one a mind to run after the dog and on the course?" "i will," said a lad of o'donnell's. "up with you, then," said the juggler; "but i warn you if you let my hare be killed i'll cut off your head when you come down." the lad ran up the thread, and all three soon disappeared. after looking up for a long time, the lank, grey beggarman said, "i'm afraid the hound is eating the hare, and that our friend has fallen asleep." saying this he began to wind the thread, and down came the lad fast asleep; and down came the red-eared hound and in his mouth the last morsel of the hare. he struck the lad a stroke with the edge of his sword, and so cast his head off. as for the hound, if he used it no worse, he used it no better. "it's little i'm pleased, and sore i'm angered," said o'donnell, "that a hound and a lad should be killed at my court." "five pieces of silver twice over for each of them," said the juggler, "and their heads shall be on them as before." "thou shalt get that," said o'donnell. five pieces and again five were paid him, and lo! the lad had his head and the hound his. and though they lived to the uttermost end of time, the hound would never touch a hare again, and the lad took good care to keep his eyes open. scarcely had the lank, grey beggarman done this when he vanished from out their sight, and no one present could say if he had flown through the air or if the earth had swallowed him up. "he moved as wave tumbling o'er wave as whirlwind following whirlwind, as a furious wintry blast, so swiftly, sprucely, cheerily, right proudly, and no stop made until he came to the court of leinster's king, he gave a cheery light leap o'er top of turret, of court and city of leinster's king." heavy was the flesh and weary the spirit of leinster's king. 'twas the hour he was wont to hear a story, but send he might right and left, not a jot of tidings about the story-teller could he get. "go to the door," said he to his doorkeeper, "and see if a soul is in sight who may tell me something about my story-teller." the doorkeeper went, and what he saw was a lank, grey beggarman, half his sword bared behind his haunch, his two old shoes full of cold road-a-wayish water sousing about him, the tips of his two ears out through his old hat, his two shoulders out through his scant, tattered cloak, and in his hand a three-stringed harp. "what canst thou do?" said the doorkeeper. "i can play," said the lank, grey beggarman. "never fear," added he to the story-teller, "thou shalt see all, and not a man shall see thee." [illustration:] when the king heard a harper was outside he bade him in. "it is i that have the best harpers in the five-fifths of ireland," said he, and he signed them to play. they did so, and if they played, the lank, grey beggarman listened. "heardst thou ever the like?" said the king. "did you ever, o king, hear a cat purring over a bowl of broth, or the buzzing of beetles in the twilight, or a shrill-tongued old woman scolding your head off?" "that i have often," said the king. "more melodious to me," said the lank, grey beggarman, "were the worst of these sounds than the sweetest harping of thy harpers." when the harpers heard this, they drew their swords and rushed at him, but instead of striking him, their blows fell on each other, and soon not a man but was cracking his neighbour's skull and getting his own cracked in turn. when the king saw this, he thought it hard the harpers weren't content with murdering their music, but must needs murder each other. "hang the fellow who began it all," said he; "and if i can't have a story, let me have peace." up came the guards, seized the lank, grey beggarman, marched him to the gallows and hanged him high and dry. back they marched to the hall, and who should they see but the lank, grey beggarman seated on a bench with his mouth to a flagon of ale. "never welcome you in," cried the captain of the guard, "didn't we hang you this minute, and what brings you here?" "is it me myself, you mean?" "who else?" said the captain. "may your hand turn into a pig's foot with you when you think of tying the rope; why should you speak of hanging me?" back they scurried to the gallows, and there hung the king's favourite brother. back they hurried to the king who had fallen fast asleep. "please your majesty," said the captain, "we hanged that strolling vagabond, but here he is back again as well as ever." "hang him again," said the king, and off he went to sleep once more. they did as they were told, but what happened was that they found the king's chief harper hanging where the lank, grey beggarman should have been. the captain of the guard was sorely puzzled. "are you wishful to hang me a third time?" said the lank, grey beggarman. "go where you will," said the captain, "and as fast as you please if you'll only go far enough. it's trouble enough you've given us already." "now, you're reasonable," said the beggarman, "and since you've given up trying to hang a stranger because he finds fault with your music, i don't mind telling you that if you go back to the gallows you'll find your friends sitting on the sward none the worse for what has happened." as he said these words he vanished; and the story-teller found himself on the spot where they first met, and where his wife still was with the carriage and horses. "now," said the lank, grey beggarman, "i'll torment you no longer. there's your carriage and your horses, and your money and your wife: do what you please with them." "for my carriage and my horses and my hounds," said the story-teller, "i thank you; but my wife and my money you may keep." "no," said the other. "i want neither, and as for your wife, don't think ill of her for what she did, she couldn't help it." "not help it! not help kicking me into the mouth of my own hounds! not help casting me off for the sake of a beggarly old----" "i'm not as beggarly or as old as ye think. i am angus of the bruff; many a good turn you've done me with the king of leinster. this morning my magic told me the difficulty you were in, and i made up my mind to get you out of it. as for your wife there, the power that changed your body changed her mind. forget and forgive as man and wife should do, and now you have a story for the king of leinster when he calls for one"; and with that he disappeared. it's true enough he now had a story fit for a king. from first to last he told all that had befallen him; so long and loud laughed the king that he couldn't go to sleep at all. and he told the story-teller never to trouble for fresh stories, but every night as long as he lived he listened again and he laughed afresh at the tale of the lank, grey beggarman. the sea-maiden there was once a poor old fisherman, and one year he was not getting much fish. on a day of days, while he was fishing, there rose a sea-maiden at the side of his boat, and she asked him, "are you getting much fish?" the old man answered and said, "not i." "what reward would you give me for sending plenty of fish to you?" "ach!" said the old man, "i have not much to spare." "will you give me the first son you have?" said she. "i would give ye that, were i to have a son," said he. "then go home, and remember me when your son is twenty years of age, and you yourself will get plenty of fish after this." everything happened as the sea-maiden said, and he himself got plenty of fish; but when the end of the twenty years was nearing, the old man was growing more and more sorrowful and heavy-hearted, while he counted each day as it came. he had rest neither day nor night. the son asked his father one day, "is any one troubling you?" the old man said, "some one is, but that's nought to do with you nor any one else." the lad said, "i _must_ know what it is." his father told him at last how the matter was with him and the sea-maiden. "let not that put you in any trouble," said the son; "i will not oppose you." "you shall not; you shall not go, my son, though i never get fish any more." "if you will not let me go with you, go to the smithy, and let the smith make me a great strong sword, and i will go seek my fortune." his father went to the smithy, and the smith made a doughty sword for him. his father came home with the sword. the lad grasped it and gave it a shake or two, and it flew into a hundred splinters. he asked his father to go to the smithy and get him another sword in which there should be twice as much weight; and so his father did, and so likewise it happened to the next sword--it broke in two halves. back went the old man to the smithy; and the smith made a great sword, its like he never made before. "there's thy sword for thee," said the smith, "and the fist must be good that plays this blade." the old man gave the sword to his son; he gave it a shake or two. "this will do," said he; "it's high time now to travel on my way." on the next morning he put a saddle on a black horse that his father had, and he took the world for his pillow. when he went on a bit, he fell in with the carcass of a sheep beside the road. and there were a great black dog, a falcon, and an otter, and they were quarrelling over the spoil. so they asked him to divide it for them. he came down off the horse and he divided the carcass amongst the three. three shares to the dog, two shares to the otter, and a share to the falcon. "for this," said the dog, "if swiftness of foot or sharpness of tooth will give thee aid, mind me, and i will be at thy side." said the otter, "if the swimming of foot on the ground of a pool will loose thee, mind me, and i will be at thy side." said the falcon, "if hardship comes on thee, where swiftness of wing or crook of claw will do good, mind me, and i will be at thy side." on this he went onward till he reached a king's house, and he took service to be a herd, and his wages were to be according to the milk of the cattle. he went away with the cattle, and the grazing was but bare. in the evening when he took them home they had not much milk, the place was so bare, and his meat and drink was but spare that night. on the next day he went on further with them; and at last he came to a place exceedingly grassy, in a green glen, of which he never saw the like. but about the time when he should drive the cattle homewards, who should he see coming but a great giant with a sword in his hand? "hi! ho!! ho-garach!!!" says the giant. "those cattle are mine; they are on my land, and a dead man art thou." "i say not that," says the herd; "there is no knowing, but that may be easier to say than to do." he drew the great clean-sweeping sword, and he neared the giant. the herd drew back his sword, and the head was off the giant in a twinkling. he leaped on the black horse, and he went to look for the giant's house. in went the herd, and that's the place where there was money in plenty, and dresses of each kind in the wardrobe with gold and silver, and each thing finer than the other. at the mouth of night he took himself to the king's house, but he took not a thing from the giant's house. and when the cattle were milked this night there _was_ milk. he got good feeding this night, meat and drink without stint, and the king was hugely pleased that he had caught such a herd. he went on for a time in this way, but at last the glen grew bare of grass, and the grazing was not so good. so he thought he would go a little further forward in on the giant's land; and he sees a great park of grass. he returned for the cattle, and he put them into the park. they were but a short time grazing in the park when a great wild giant came full of rage and madness. "hi! haw!! hogaraich!!!" said the giant. "it is a drink of thy blood that will quench my thirst this night." "there is no knowing," said the herd, "but that's easier to say than to do." and at each other went the men. _there_ was shaking of blades! at length and at last it seemed as if the giant would get the victory over the herd. then he called on the dog, and with one spring the black dog caught the giant by the neck, and swiftly the herd struck off his head. he went home very tired this night, but it's a wonder if the king's cattle had not milk. the whole family was delighted that they had got such a herd. next day he betakes himself to the castle. when he reached the door, a little flattering carlin met him standing in the door. "all hail and good luck to thee, fisher's son; 'tis i myself am pleased to see thee; great is the honour for this kingdom, for thy like to be come into it--thy coming in is fame for this little bothy; go in first; honour to the gentles; go on, and take breath." "in before me, thou crone; i like not flattery out of doors; go in and let's hear thy speech." in went the crone, and when her back was to him he drew his sword and whips her head off; but the sword flew out of his hand. and swift the crone gripped her head with both hands, and puts it on her neck as it was before. the dog sprang on the crone, and she struck the generous dog with the club of magic; and there he lay. but the herd struggled for a hold of the club of magic, and with one blow on the top of the head she was on earth in the twinkling of an eye. he went forward, up a little, and there was spoil! gold and silver, and each thing more precious than another, in the crone's castle. he went back to the king's house, and there was rejoicing. he followed herding in this way for a time; but one night after he came home, instead of getting "all hail" and "good luck" from the dairymaid, all were at crying and woe. he asked what cause of woe there was that night. the dairymaid said, "there is a great beast with three heads in the loch, and it must get some one every year, and the lot had come this year on the king's daughter, and at midday to-morrow she is to meet the laidly beast at the upper end of the loch, but there is a great suitor yonder who is going to rescue her." "what suitor is that?" said the herd. "oh, he is a great general of arms," said the dairymaid, "and when he kills the beast, he will marry the king's daughter, for the king has said that he who could save his daughter should get her to marry." [illustration:] but on the morrow, when the time grew near, the king's daughter and this hero of arms went to give a meeting to the beast, and they reached the black rock, at the upper end of the loch. they were but a short time there when the beast stirred in the midst of the loch; but when the general saw this terror of a beast with three heads, he took fright, and he slunk away, and he hid himself. and the king's daughter was under fear and under trembling, with no one at all to save her. suddenly she sees a doughty handsome youth, riding a black horse, and coming where she was. he was marvellously arrayed and full armed, and his black dog moved after him. "there is gloom on your face, girl," said the youth; "what do you here?" "oh! that's no matter," said the king's daughter. "it's not long i'll be here at all events." --"i say not that," said he. "a champion fled as likely as you, and not long since," said she. "he is a champion who stands the war," said the youth. and to meet the beast he went with his sword and his dog. but there was a spluttering and a splashing between himself and the beast! the dog kept doing all he might, and the king's daughter was palsied by fear of the noise of the beast! one of them would now be under, and now above. but at last he cut one of the heads off it. it gave one roar, and the son of earth, echo of the rocks, called to its screech, and it drove the loch in spindrift from end to end, and in a twinkling it went out of sight. "good luck and victory follow you, lad!" said the king's daughter. "i am safe for one night, but the beast will come again and again, until the other two heads come off it." he caught the beast's head, and he drew a knot through it, and he told her to bring it with her there to-morrow. she gave him a gold ring, and went home with the head on her shoulder, and the herd betook himself to the cows. but she had not gone far when this great general saw her, and he said to her, "i will kill you if you do not say 'twas i took the head off the beast." "oh!" says she, "'tis i will say it; who else took the head off the beast but you!" they reached the king's house, and the head was on the general's shoulder. but here was rejoicing, that she should come home alive and whole, and this great captain with the beast's head full of blood in hand. on the morrow they went away, and there was no question at all but that this hero would save the king's daughter. they reached the same place, and they were not long there when the fearful laidly beast stirred in the midst of the loch, and the hero slunk away as he did on yesterday, but it was not long after this when the man of the black horse came, with another dress on. no matter; she knew that it was the very same lad. "it is i am pleased to see you," said she. "i am in hopes you will handle your great sword to-day as you did yesterday. come up and take breath." but they were not long there when they saw the beast steaming in the midst of the loch. at once he went to meet the beast, but _there_ was cloopersteich and claperstich, spluttering, splashing, raving, and roaring on the beast! they kept at it thus for a long time, and about the mouth of the night he cut another head off the beast. he put it on the knot and gave it to her. she gave him one of her earrings, and he leaped on the black horse, and he betook himself to the herding. the king's daughter went home with the heads. the general met her, and took the heads from her, and he said to her that she must tell that it was he who took the head off the beast this time also. "who else took the head off the beast but you?" said she. they reached the king's house with the heads. then there was joy and gladness. [illustration:] about the same time on the morrow, the two went away. the officer hid himself as he usually did. the king's daughter betook herself to the bank of the loch. the hero of the black horse came, and if roaring and raving were on the beast on the days that were passed, this day it was horrible. but no matter, he took the third head off the beast, and drew it through the knot, and gave it to her. she gave him her other earring, and then she went home with the heads. when they reached the king's house, all were full of smiles, and the general was to marry the king's daughter the next day. the wedding was going on, and every one about the castle longing till the priest should come. but when the priest came, she would marry only the one who could take the heads off the knot without cutting it. "who should take the heads off the knot but the man that put the heads on?" said the king. the general tried them, but he could not loose them, and at last there was no one about the house but had tried to take the heads off the knot, but they could not. the king asked if there were any one else about the house that would try to take the heads off the knot. they said that the herd had not tried them yet. word went for the herd; and he was not long throwing them hither and thither. "but stop a bit, my lad," said the king's daughter; "the man that took the heads off the beast, he has my ring and my two earrings." the herd put his hand in his pocket, and he threw them on the board. "thou art my man," said the king's daughter. the king was not so pleased when he saw that it was a herd who was to marry his daughter, but he ordered that he should be put in a better dress; but his daughter spoke, and she said that he had a dress as fine as any that ever was in his castle; and thus it happened. the herd put on the giant's golden dress, and they married that same day. they were now married, and everything went on well. but one day, and it was the namesake of the day when his father had promised him to the sea-maiden, they were sauntering by the side of the loch, and lo and behold! she came and took him away to the loch without leave or asking. the king's daughter was now mournful, tearful, blind-sorrowful for her married man; she was always with her eye on the loch. an old soothsayer met her, and she told how it had befallen her married mate. then he told her the thing to do to save her mate, and that she did. she took her harp to the sea-shore, and sat and played; and the sea-maiden came up to listen, for sea-maidens are fonder of music than all other creatures. but when the wife saw the sea-maiden she stopped. the sea-maiden said, "play on!" but the princess said, "no, not till i see my man again." so the sea-maiden put up his head out of the loch. then the princess played again, and stopped till the sea-maiden put him up to the waist. then the princess played and stopped again, and this time the sea-maiden put him all out of the loch, and he called on the falcon and became one and flew on shore. but the sea-maiden took the princess, his wife. sorrowful was each one that was in the town on this night. her man was mournful, tearful, wandering down and up about the banks of the loch, by day and night. the old soothsayer met him. the soothsayer told him that there was no way of killing the sea-maiden but the one way, and this is it--"in the island that is in the midst of the loch is the white-footed hind of the slenderest legs and the swiftest step, and though she be caught, there will spring a hoodie out of her, and though the hoodie should be caught, there will spring a trout out of her, but there is an egg in the mouth of the trout, and the soul of the sea-maiden is in the egg and if the egg breaks she is dead." now, there was no way of getting to this island, for the sea-maiden would sink each boat and raft that would go on the loch. he thought he would try to leap the strait with the black horse, and even so he did. the black horse leaped the strait. he saw the hind, and he let the black dog after her, but when he was on one side of the island, the hind would be on the other side. "oh! would the black dog of the carcass of flesh were here!" no sooner spoke he the word than the grateful dog was at his side; and after the hind he went, and they were not long in bringing her to earth. but he no sooner caught her than a hoodie sprang out of her. "would that the falcon grey, of sharpest eye and swiftest wing were here!" no sooner said he this than the falcon was after the hoodie, and she was not long putting her to earth; and as the hoodie fell on the bank of the loch, out of her jumps the trout. "oh! that thou wert by me now, oh otter!" no sooner said than the otter was at his side, and out on the loch she leaped, and brings the trout from the midst of the loch; but no sooner was the otter on shore with the trout than the egg came from his mouth; he sprang and he put his foot on it. 'twas then the sea-maiden appeared, and she said, "break not the egg, and you shall get all you ask." "deliver to me my wife!" in the wink of an eye she was by his side. when he got hold of her hand in both his hands, he let his foot down on the egg and the sea-maiden died. a legend of knockmany what irish man, woman, or child has not heard of our renowned hibernian hercules, the great and glorious fin m'coul? not one, from cape clear to the giant's causeway, nor from that back again to cape clear. and, by the way, speaking of the giant's causeway brings me at once to the beginning of my story. well, it so happened that fin and his men were all working at the causeway, in order to make a bridge across to scotland; when fin, who was very fond of his wife oonagh, took it into his head that he would go home and see how the poor woman got on in his absence. so, accordingly, he pulled up a fir tree, and, after lopping off the roots and branches, made a walking-stick of it, and set out on his way to oonagh. oonagh, or rather fin, lived at this time on the very tiptop of knockmany hill, which faces a cousin of its own called cullamore, that rises up, half-hill, half-mountain, on the opposite side. there was at that time another giant, named cuhullin--some say he was irish, and some say he was scotch--but whether scotch or irish, sorrow doubt of it but he was a targer. no other giant of the day could stand before him; and such was his strength, that, when well-vexed, he could give a stamp that shook the country about him. the fame and name of him went far and near, and nothing in the shape of a man, it was said, had any chance with him in a fight. by one blow of his fists he flattened a thunderbolt and kept it in his pocket, in the shape of a pancake, to show to all his enemies when they were about to fight him. undoubtedly he had given every giant in ireland a considerable beating, barring fin m'coul himself; and he swore that he would never rest, night or day, winter or summer, till he would serve fin with the same sauce, if he could catch him. however, the short and long of it was, with reverence be it spoken, that fin heard cuhullin was coming to the causeway to have a trial of strength with him; and he was seized with a very warm and sudden fit of affection for his wife, poor woman, leading a very lonely, uncomfortable life of it in his absence. he accordingly pulled up the fir tree, as i said before, and having snedded it into a walking-stick, set out on his travels to see his darling oonagh on the top of knockmany, by the way. in truth, the people wondered very much why it was that fin selected such a windy spot for his dwelling-house, and they even went so far as to tell him as much. "what can you mane, mr. m'coul," said they, "by pitching your tent upon the top of knockmany, where you never are without a breeze, day or night winter or summer, and where you're often forced to take your nightcap without either going to bed or turning up your little finger; ay, an' where, besides this, there's the sorrow's own want of water?" "why," said fin, "ever since i was the height of a round tower, i was known to be fond of having a good prospect of my own; and where the dickens, neighbours, could i find a better spot for a good prospect than the top of knockmany? as for water, i am sinking a pump, and, plase goodness, as soon as the causeway's made, i intend to finish it." now, this was more of fin's philosophy; for the real state of the case was, that he pitched upon the top of knockmany in order that he might be able to see cuhullin coming towards the house. all we have to say is, that if he wanted a spot from which to keep a sharp look-out--and, between ourselves, he did want it grievously--barring slieve croob, or slieve donard, or its own cousin, cullamore, he could not find a neater or more convenient situation for it in the sweet and sagacious province of ulster. "god save all here!" said fin, good-humouredly, on putting his honest face into his own door. "musha, fin, avick, an' you're welcome home to your own oonagh, you darlin' bully." here followed a smack that is said to have made the waters of the lake at the bottom of the hill curl, as it were, with kindness and sympathy. fin spent two or three happy days with oonagh, and felt himself very comfortable, considering the dread he had of cuhullin. this, however, grew upon him so much that his wife could not but perceive something lay on his mind which he kept altogether to himself. let a woman alone, in the meantime, for ferreting or wheedling a secret out of her good man, when she wishes. fin was a proof of this. "it's this cuhullin," said he, "that's troubling me. when the fellow gets angry, and begins to stamp, he'll shake you a whole townland; and it's well known that he can stop a thunderbolt, for he always carries one about him in the shape of a pancake, to show to any one that might misdoubt it." as he spoke, he clapped his thumb in his mouth, which he always did when he wanted to prophesy, or to know anything that happened in his absence; and the wife asked him what he did it for. "he's coming," said fin; "i see him below dungannon." "thank goodness, dear! an' who is it, avick? glory be to god!" "that baste, cuhullin," replied fin; "and how to manage i don't know. if i run away, i am disgraced; and i know that sooner or later i must meet him, for my thumb tells me so." "when will he be here?" said she. "to-morrow, about two o'clock," replied fin, with a groan. "well, my bully, don't be cast down," said oonagh; "depend on me, and maybe i'll bring you better out of this scrape than ever you could bring yourself, by your rule o' thumb." she then made a high smoke on the top of the hill after which she put her finger in her mouth, and gave three whistles, and by that cuhullin knew he was invited to cullamore--for this was the way that the irish long ago gave a sign to all strangers and travellers, to let them know they were welcome to come and take share of whatever was going. in the meantime, fin was very melancholy, and did not know what to do, or how to act at all. cuhullin was an ugly customer to meet with; and, the idea of the "cake" aforesaid flattened the very heart within him. what chance could he have, strong and brave though he was, with a man who could, when put in a passion, walk the country into earthquakes and knock thunderbolts into pancakes? fin knew not on what hand to turn him. right or left--backward or forward--where to go he could form no guess whatsoever. "oonagh," said he, "can you do nothing for me? where's all your invention? am i to be skivered like a rabbit before your eyes, and to have my name disgraced for ever in the sight of all my tribe, and me the best man among them? how am i to fight this man-mountain--this huge cross between an earthquake and a thunderbolt?--with a pancake in his pocket that was once----" "be easy, fin," replied oonagh; "troth, i'm ashamed of you. keep your toe in your pump, will you? talking of pancakes, maybe, we'll give him as good as any he brings with him--thunderbolt or otherwise. if i don't treat him to as smart feeding as he's got this many a day, never trust oonagh again. leave him to me, and do just as i bid you." this relieved fin very much; for, after all, he had great confidence in his wife, knowing, as he did, that she had got him out of many a quandary before. oonagh then drew the nine woollen threads of different colours, which she always did to find out the best way of succeeding in anything of importance she went about. she then platted them into three plats with three colours in each, putting one on her right arm, one round her heart, and the third round her right ankle, for then she knew that nothing could fail with her that she undertook. having everything now prepared, she sent round to the neighbours and borrowed one-and-twenty iron griddles, which she took and kneaded into the hearts of one-and-twenty cakes of bread, and these she baked on the fire in the usual way, setting them aside in the cupboard according as they were done. she then put down a large pot of new milk, which she made into curds and whey. having done all this, she sat down quite contented, waiting for his arrival on the next day about two o'clock, that being the hour at which he was expected--for fin knew as much by the sucking of his thumb. now this was a curious property that fin's thumb had. in this very thing, moreover, he was very much resembled by his great foe, cuhullin; for it was well known that the huge strength he possessed all lay in the middle finger of his right hand, and that, if he happened by any mischance to lose it, he was no more, for all his bulk, than a common man. at length, the next day, cuhullin was seen coming across the valley, and oonagh knew that it was time to commence operations. she immediately brought the cradle, and made fin to lie down in it, and cover himself up with the clothes. "you must pass for your own child," said she; "so just lie there snug, and say nothing, but be guided by me." about two o'clock, as he had been expected, cuhullin came in. "god save all here!" said he; "is this where the great fin m'coul lives?" "indeed it is, honest man," replied oonagh; "god save you kindly--won't you be sitting?" "thank you ma'am," says he, sitting down; "you're mrs. m'coul, i suppose?" "i am," said she; "and i have no reason, i hope, to be ashamed of my husband." "no," said the other, "he has the name of being the strongest and bravest man in ireland; but for all that, there's a man not far from you that's very desirous of taking a shake with him. is he at home?" "why, then, no," she replied; "and if ever a man left his house in a fury he did. it appears that some one told him of a big basthoon of a giant called cuhullin being down at the causeway to look for him, and so he set out there to try if he could catch him. troth, i hope, for the poor giant's sake, he won't meet with him, for if he does, fin will make paste of him at once." "well," said the other, "i am cuhullin, and i have been seeking him these twelve months, but he always kept clear of me; and i will never rest night or day till i lay my hands on him." at this oonagh set up a loud laugh, of great contempt, by-the-way, and looked at him as if he was only a mere handful of a man. "did you ever see fin?" said she, changing her manner all at once. "how could i," said he; "he always took care to keep his distance." "i thought so," she replied; "i judged as much; and if you take my advice, you poor-looking creature, you'll pray night and day that you may never see him, for i tell you it will be a black day for you when you do. but, in the meantime, you perceive that the wind's on the door, and as fin himself is from home, maybe you'd be civil enough to turn the house, for it's always what fin does when he's here." this was a startler even to cuhullin; but he got up, however, and after pulling the middle finger of his right hand until it cracked three times, he went outside, and getting his arms about the house, turned it as she had wished. when fin saw this, he felt the sweat of fear oozing out through every pore of his skin; but oonagh, depending upon her woman's wit, felt not a whit daunted. "arrah, then," said she, "as you are so civil, maybe you'd do another obliging turn for us, as fin's not here to do it himself. you see, after this long stretch of dry weather we've had, we feel very badly off for want of water. now, fin says there's a fine spring-well somewhere under the rocks behind the hill here below, and it was his intention to pull them asunder; but having heard of you, he left the place in such a fury, that he never thought of it. now, if you try to find it, troth, i'd feel it a kindness." she then brought cuhullin down to see the place, which was then all one solid rock; and, after looking at it for some time, he cracked his right middle finger nine times, and, stooping down, tore a cleft about four hundred feet deep, and a quarter of a mile in length, which has since been christened by the name of lumford's glen. "you'll now come in," said she, "and eat a bit of such humble fare as we can give you. fin, even although he and you are enemies, would scorn not to treat you kindly in his own house; and, indeed, if i didn't do it even in his absence, he would not be pleased with me." she accordingly brought him in, and placing half-a-dozen of the cakes we spoke of before him, together with a can or two of butter, a side of boiled bacon, and a stack of cabbage, she desired him to help himself--for this, be it known, was long before the invention of potatoes. cuhullin put one of the cakes in his mouth to take a huge whack out of it, when he made a thundering noise, something between a growl and a yell. "blood and fury," he shouted; "how is this? here are two of my teeth out! what kind of bread is this you gave me." "what's the matter?" said oonagh coolly. "matter!" shouted the other again; "why here are the two best teeth in my head gone." "why," said she, "that's fin's bread--the only bread he ever eats when at home; but, indeed, i forgot to tell you that nobody can eat it but himself, and that child in the cradle there. i thought, however, that as you were reported to be rather a stout little fellow of your size, you might be able to manage it, and i did not wish to affront a man that thinks himself able to fight fin. here's another cake--maybe it's not so hard as that." cuhullin at the moment was not only hungry, but ravenous, so he accordingly made a fresh set at the second cake, and immediately another yell was heard twice as loud as the first. "thunder and gibbets!" he roared, "take your bread out of this, or i will not have a tooth in my head; there's another pair of them gone!" "well, honest man," replied oonagh, "if you're not able to eat the bread, say so quietly, and don't be wakening the child in the cradle there. there now, he's awake upon me." fin now gave a skirl that startled the giant, as coming from such a youngster as he was supposed to be. "mother," said he, "i'm hungry--get me something to eat." oonagh went over, and putting into his hand a cake that had no griddle in it, fin, whose appetite in the meantime had been sharpened by seeing eating going forward, soon swallowed it. cuhullin was thunderstruck, and secretly thanked his stars that he had the good fortune to miss meeting fin, for, as he said to himself, "i'd have no chance with a man who could eat such bread as that, which even his son that's but in his cradle can munch before my eyes." "i'd like to take a glimpse at the lad in the cradle," said he to oonagh; "for i can tell you that the infant who can manage that nutriment is no joke to look at, or to feed of a scarce summer." [illustration:] "with all the veins of my heart," replied oonagh; "get up, acushla, and show this decent little man something that won't be unworthy of your father, fin m'coul." fin, who was dressed for the occasion as much like a boy as possible, got up, and bringing cuhullin out, "are you strong?" said he. "thunder an' ounds!" exclaimed the other, "what a voice in so small a chap!" "are you strong?" said fin again; "are you able to squeeze water out of that white stone?" he asked putting one into cuhullin's hand. the latter squeezed and squeezed the stone, but in vain. "ah! you're a poor creature!" said fin. "you a giant! give me the stone here, and when i'll show what fin's little son can do, you may then judge of what my daddy himself is." fin then took the stone, and exchanging it for the curds, he squeezed the latter until the whey, as clear as water, oozed out in a little shower from his hand. "i'll now go in," said he "to my cradle; for i scorn to lose my time with any one that's not able to eat my daddy's bread, or squeeze water out of a stone. bedad, you had better be off out of this before he comes back; for if he catches you, it's in flummery he'd have you in two minutes." cuhullin, seeing what he had seen, was of the same opinion himself; his knees knocked together with the terror of fin's return, and he accordingly hastened to bid oonagh farewell, and to assure her, that from that day out, he never wished to hear of, much less to see, her husband. "i admit fairly that i'm not a match for him," said he, "strong as i am; tell him i will avoid him as i would the plague, and that i will make myself scarce in this part of the country while i live." fin, in the meantime, had gone into the cradle, where he lay very quietly, his heart at his mouth with delight that cuhullin was about to take his departure, without discovering the tricks that had been played off on him. "it's well for you," said oonagh, "that he doesn't happen to be here, for it's nothing but hawk's meat he'd make of you." "i know that," said cuhullin; "divil a thing else he'd make of me; but before i go, will you let me feel what kind of teeth fin's lad has got that can eat griddle-bread like that?" "with all pleasure in life," said she; "only as they're far back in his head, you must put your finger a good way in." cuhullin was surprised to find such a powerful set of grinders in one so young; but he was still much more so on finding, when he took his hand from fin's mouth, that he had left the very finger upon which his whole strength depended, behind him. he gave one loud groan, and fell down at once with terror and weakness. this was all fin wanted, who now knew that his most powerful and bitterest enemy was at his mercy. he started out of the cradle, and in a few minutes the great cuhullin, that was for such a length of time the terror of him and all his followers, lay a corpse before him. thus did fin, through the wit and invention of oonagh, his wife, succeed in overcoming his enemy by cunning, which he never could have done by force. fair, brown, and trembling king hugh cúrucha lived in tir conal, and he had three daughters, whose names were fair, brown, and trembling. fair and brown had new dresses, and went to church every sunday. trembling was kept at home to do the cooking and work. they would not let her go out of the house at all; for she was more beautiful than the other two, and they were in dread she might marry before themselves. they carried on in this way for seven years. at the end of seven years the son of the king of emania fell in love with the eldest sister. one sunday morning, after the other two had gone to church, the old henwife came into the kitchen to trembling, and said: "it's at church you ought to be this day, instead of working here at home." "how could i go?" said trembling. "i have no clothes good enough to wear at church; and if my sisters were to see me there, they'd kill me for going out of the house." "i'll give you," said the henwife, "a finer dress than either of them has ever seen. and now tell me what dress will you have?" "i'll have," said trembling, "a dress as white as snow, and green shoes for my feet." then the henwife put on the cloak of darkness, clipped a piece from the old clothes the young woman had on, and asked for the whitest robes in the world and the most beautiful that could be found, and a pair of green shoes. that moment she had the robe and the shoes, and she brought them to trembling, who put them on. when trembling was dressed and ready, the henwife said: "i have a honey-bird here to sit on your right shoulder, and a honey-finger to put on your left. at the door stands a milk-white mare, with a golden saddle for you to sit on, and a golden bridle to hold in your hand." trembling sat on the golden saddle; and when she was ready to start, the henwife said: "you must not go inside the door of the church, and the minute the people rise up at the end of mass, do you make off, and ride home as fast as the mare will carry you." when trembling came to the door of the church there was no one inside who could get a glimpse of her but was striving to know who she was: and when they saw her hurrying away at the end of mass, they ran out to overtake her. but no use in their running; she was away before any man could come near her. from the minute she left the church till she got home, she overtook the wind before her, and outstripped the wind behind. she came down at the door, went in, and found the henwife had dinner ready. she put off the white robes, and had on her old dress in a twinkling. when the two sisters came home the henwife asked: "have you any news to-day from the church?" "we have great news," said they. "we saw a wonderful grand lady at the church-door. the like of the robes she had we have never seen on woman before. it's little that was thought of our dresses beside what she had on; and there wasn't a man at the church, from the king to the beggar, but was trying to look at her and know who she was." the sisters would give no peace till they had two dresses like the robes of the strange lady; but honey-birds and honey-fingers were not to be found. next sunday the two sisters went to church again and left the youngest at home to cook the dinner. after they had gone, the henwife came in and asked: "will you go to church to-day?" "i would go," said trembling, "if i could get the going." "what robe will you wear?" asked the henwife. "the finest black satin that can be found, and red shoes for my feet." "what colour do you want the mare to be?" "i want her to be so black and so glossy that i can see myself in her body." the henwife put on the cloak of darkness, and asked for the robes and the mare. that moment she had them. when trembling was dressed, the henwife put the honey-bird on her right shoulder and the honey-finger on her left. the saddle on the mare was silver, and so was the bridle. [illustration: "trembling" at the church door] when trembling sat in the saddle and was going away, the henwife ordered her strictly not to go inside the door of the church, but to rush away as soon as the people rose at the end of mass, and hurry home on the mare before any man could stop her. that sunday the people were more astonished than ever, and gazed at her more than the first time; and all they were thinking of was to know who she was. but they had no chance; for the moment the people rose at the end of mass she slipped from the church, was in the silver saddle, and home before a man could stop her or talk to her. the henwife had the dinner ready. trembling took off her satin robe, and had on her old clothes before her sisters got home. "what news have you to-day?" asked the henwife of the sisters when they came from the church. "oh, we saw the grand strange lady again. and it's little that any man could think of our dresses after looking at the robes of satin that she had on! and all at church, from high to low, had their mouths open, gazing at her, and no man was looking at us." the two sisters gave neither rest nor peace till they got dresses as nearly like the strange lady's robes as they could find. of course they were not so good; for the like of those robes could not be found in erin. when the third sunday came, fair and brown went to church dressed in black satin. they left trembling at home to work in the kitchen, and told her to be sure and have dinner ready when they came back. after they had gone and were out of sight, the henwife came to the kitchen and said: "well, my dear, are you for church to-day?" "i would go if i had a new dress to wear." "i'll get you any dress you ask for. what dress would you like?" asked the henwife. "a dress red as a rose from the waist down, and white as snow from the waist up; a cape of green on my shoulders; and a hat on my head with a red, a white, and a green feather in it; and shoes for my feet with the toes red, the middle white, and the backs and heels green." the henwife put on the cloak of darkness, wished for all these things, and had them. when trembling was dressed, the henwife put the honey-bird on her right shoulder and the honey-finger on her left, and, placing the hat on her head, clipped a few hairs from one lock and a few from another with her scissors, and that moment the most beautiful golden hair was flowing down over the girl's shoulders. then the henwife asked what kind of a mare she would ride. she said white, with blue and gold-coloured diamond-shaped spots all over her body, on her back a saddle of gold, and on her head a golden bridle. the mare stood there before the door, and a bird sitting between her ears, which began to sing as soon as trembling was in the saddle, and never stopped till she came home from the church. the fame of the beautiful strange lady had gone out through the world, and all the princes and great men that were in it came to church that sunday, each one hoping that it was himself would have her home with him after mass. the son of the king of emania forgot all about the eldest sister, and remained outside the church, so as to catch the strange lady before she could hurry away. the church was more crowded than ever before, and there were three times as many outside. there was such a throng before the church that trembling could only come inside the gate. as soon as the people were rising at the end of mass, the lady slipped out through the gate, was in the golden saddle in an instant, and sweeping away ahead of the wind. but if she was, the prince of emania was at her side, and, seizing her by the foot, he ran with the mare for thirty perches, and never let go of the beautiful lady till the shoe was pulled from her foot, and he was left behind with it in his hand. she came home as fast as the mare could carry her, and was thinking all the time that the henwife would kill her for losing the shoe. seeing her so vexed and so changed in the face, the old woman asked: "what's the trouble that's on you now?" "oh! i've lost one of the shoes off my feet," said trembling. "don't mind that; don't be vexed," said the henwife; "maybe it's the best thing that ever happened to you." then trembling gave up all the things she had to the henwife, put on her old clothes, and went to work in the kitchen. when the sisters came home, the henwife asked: "have you any news from the church?" "we have indeed," said they, "for we saw the grandest sight to-day. the strange lady came again, in grander array than before. on herself and the horse she rode were the finest colours of the world, and between the ears of the horse was a bird which never stopped singing from the time she came till she went away. the lady herself is the most beautiful woman ever seen by man in erin." after trembling had disappeared from the church, the son of the king of emania said to the other kings' sons: "i will have that lady for my own." they all said: "you didn't win her just by taking the shoe off her foot; you'll have to win her by the point of the sword; you'll have to fight for her with us before you can call her your own." "well," said the son of the king of emania, "when i find the lady that shoe will fit, i'll fight for her, never fear, before i leave her to any of you." then all the kings' sons were uneasy, and anxious to know who was she that lost the shoe; and they began to travel all over erin to know could they find her. the prince of emania and all the others went in a great company together, and made the round of erin; they went everywhere,--north, south, east, and west. they visited every place where a woman was to be found, and left not a house in the kingdom they did not search, to know could they find the woman the shoe would fit, not caring whether she was rich or poor, of high or low degree. the prince of emania always kept the shoe; and when the young women saw it, they had great hopes, for it was of proper size, neither large nor small, and it would beat any man to know of what material it was made. one thought it would fit her if she cut a little from her great toe; and another, with too short a foot, put something in the tip of her stocking. but no use; they only spoiled their feet, and were curing them for months afterwards. the two sisters, fair and brown, heard that the princes of the world were looking all over erin for the woman that could wear the shoe, and every day they were talking of trying it on; and one day trembling spoke up and said: "maybe it's my foot that the shoe will fit." "oh, the breaking of the dog's foot on you! why say so when you were at home every sunday?" they were that way waiting, and scolding the younger sister, till the princes were near the place. the day they were to come, the sisters put trembling in a closet, and locked the door on her. when the company came to the house, the prince of emania gave the shoe to the sisters. but though they tried and tried, it would fit neither of them. "is there any other young woman in the house?" asked the prince. "there is," said trembling, speaking up in the closet; "i'm here." "oh! we have her for nothing but to put out the ashes," said the sisters. but the prince and the others wouldn't leave the house till they had seen her; so the two sisters had to open the door. when trembling came out, the shoe was given to her, and it fitted exactly. the prince of emania looked at her and said: "you are the woman the shoe fits, and you are the woman i took the shoe from." then trembling spoke up, and said: "do you stay here till i return." then she went to the henwife's house. the old woman put on the cloak of darkness, got everything for her she had the first sunday at church, and put her on the white mare in the same fashion. then trembling rode along the highway to the front of the house. all who saw her the first time said: "this is the lady we saw at church." then she went away a second time, and a second time came back on the black mare in the second dress which the henwife gave her. all who saw her the second sunday said: "that is the lady we saw at church." a third time she asked for a short absence, and soon came back on the third mare and in the third dress. all who saw her the third time said: "that is the lady we saw at church." every man was satisfied and knew that she was the woman. then all the princes and great men spoke up, and said to the son of the king of emania: "you'll have to fight now for her before we let her go with you." "i'm here before you, ready for combat," answered the prince. then the son of the king of lochlin stepped forth. the struggle began, and a terrible struggle it was. they fought for nine hours; and then the son of the king of lochlin stopped, gave up his claim, and left the field. next day the son of the king of spain fought six hours, and yielded his claim. on the third day the son of the king of nyerfói fought eight hours, and stopped. the fourth day the son of the king of greece fought six hours, and stopped. on the fifth day no more strange princes wanted to fight; and all the sons of kings in erin said they would not fight with a man of their own land, that the strangers had had their chance, and, as no others came to claim the woman, she belonged of right to the son of the king of emania. the marriage-day was fixed, and the invitations were sent out. the wedding lasted for a year and a day. when the wedding was over, the king's son brought home the bride, and when the time came a son was born. the young woman sent for her eldest sister, fair, to be with her and care for her. one day, when trembling was well, and when her husband was away hunting, the two sisters went out to walk; and when they came to the seaside, the eldest pushed the youngest sister in. a great whale came and swallowed her. the eldest sister came home alone, and the husband asked, "where is your sister?" "she has gone home to her father in ballyshannon; now that i am well, i don't need her." "well," said the husband, looking at her, "i'm in dread it's my wife that was gone." "oh! no," said she; "it's my sister fair that's gone." since the sisters were very much alike, the prince was in doubt. that night he put his sword between them, and said: "if you are my wife, this sword will get warm; if not, it will stay cold." [illustration:] in the morning when he rose up, the sword was as cold as when he put it there. it happened, when the two sisters were walking by the sea-shore, that a little cowboy was down by the water minding cattle, and saw fair push trembling into the sea; and next day, when the tide came in, he saw the whale swim up and throw her out on the sand. when she was on the sand she said to the cowboy: "when you go home in the evening with the cows, tell the master that my sister fair pushed me into the sea yesterday; that a whale swallowed me, and then threw me out, but will come again and swallow me with the coming of the next tide; then he'll go out with the tide, and come again with tomorrow's tide, and throw me again on the strand. the whale will cast me out three times. i'm under the enchantment of this whale, and cannot leave the beach or escape myself. unless my husband saves me before i'm swallowed the fourth time i shall be lost. he must come and shoot the whale with a silver bullet when he turns on the broad of his back. under the breast-fin of the whale is a reddish-brown spot. my husband must hit him in that spot, for it is the only place in which he can be killed." when the cowboy got home, the eldest sister gave him a draught of oblivion, and he did not tell. next day he went again to the sea. the whale came and cast trembling on shore again. she asked the boy: "did you tell the master what i told you to tell him?" "i did not," said he; "i forgot." "how did you forget?" asked she. "the woman of the house gave me a drink that made me forget." "well, don't forget telling him this night; and if she gives you a drink, don't take it from her." as soon as the cowboy came home, the eldest sister offered him a drink. he refused to take it till he had delivered his message and told all to the master. the third day the prince went down with his gun and a silver bullet in it. he was not long down when the whale came and threw trembling upon the beach as the two days before. she had no power to speak to her husband till he had killed the whale. then the whale went out, turned over once on the broad of his back, and showed the spot for a moment only. that moment the prince fired. he had but the one chance, and a short one at that; but he took it, and he hit the spot, and the whale, mad with pain, made the sea all around red with blood, and died. that minute trembling was able to speak, and went home with her husband, who sent word to her father what the eldest sister had done. the father came and told him any death he chose to give her to give it. the prince told the father he would leave her life and death with himself. the father had her put out then on the sea in a barrel, with provisions in it for seven years. in time trembling had a second child, a daughter. the prince and she sent the cowboy to school, and trained him up as one of their own children, and said: "if the little girl that is born to us now lives, no other man in the world will get her but him." the cowboy and the prince's daughter lived on till they were married. the mother said to her husband: "you could not have saved me from the whale but for the little cowboy; on that account i don't grudge him my daughter." the son of the king of emania and trembling had fourteen children, and they lived happily till the two died of old age. jack and his master a poor woman had three sons. the eldest and second eldest were cunning, clever fellows, but they called the youngest jack the fool, because they thought he was no better than a simpleton. the eldest got tired of staying at home, and said he'd go look for service. he stayed away a whole year, and then came back one day, dragging one foot after the other, and a poor wizened face on him, and he as cross as two sticks. when he was rested and got something to eat, he told them how he got service with the grey churl of the townland of mischance, and that the agreement was, whoever would first say he was sorry for his bargain, should get an inch wide of the skin of his back, from shoulder to hips, taken off. if it was the master, he should also pay double wages; if it was the servant, he should get no wages at all. "but the thief," says he, "gave me so little to eat, and kept me so hard at work, that flesh and blood couldn't stand it; and when he asked me once, when i was in a passion, if i was sorry for my bargain, i was mad enough to say i was, and here i am disabled for life." vexed enough were the poor mother and brothers; and the second eldest said on the spot he'd go and take service with the grey churl, and punish him by all the annoyance he'd give him till he'd make him say he was sorry for his agreement. "oh, won't i be glad to see the skin coming off the old villain's back!" said he. all they could say had no effect: he started off for the townland of mischance, and in a twelvemonth he was back just as miserable and helpless as his brother. all the poor mother could say didn't prevent jack the fool from starting to see if he was able to regulate the grey churl. he agreed with him for a year for twenty pounds, and the terms were the same. "now, jack," said the grey churl, "if you refuse to do anything you are able to do, you must lose a month's wages." "i'm satisfied," said jack; "and if you stop me from doing a thing after telling me to do it, you are to give me an additional month's wages." "i am satisfied," said the master. "or if you blame me for obeying your orders, you must give the same." "i am satisfied," said the master again. the first day that jack served he was fed very poorly, and was worked to the saddleskirts. next day he came in just before the dinner was served up to the parlour. they were taking the goose off the spit, but well becomes jack he whips a knife off the dresser, and cuts off one side of the breast, one leg and thigh, and one wing, and fell to. in came the master, and began to abuse him for his assurance. "oh, you know, master, you're to feed me, and wherever the goose goes won't have to be filled again till supper. are you sorry for our agreement?" the master was going to cry out he was, but he bethought himself in time. "oh, no, not at all," said he. "that's well," said jack. next day jack was to go clamp turf on the bog. they weren't sorry to have him away from the kitchen at dinner time. he didn't find his breakfast very heavy on his stomach; so he said to the mistress, "i think, ma'am, it will be better for me to get my dinner now, and not lose time coming home from the bog." "that's true, jack," said she. so she brought out a good cake, and a print of butter, and a bottle of milk, thinking he'd take them away to the bog. but jack kept his seat, and never drew rein till bread, butter, and milk went down the red lane. "now, mistress," said he, "i'll be earlier at my work to-morrow if i sleep comfortably on the sheltry side of a pile of dry peat on dry grass, and not be coming here and going back. so you may as well give me my supper, and be done with the day's trouble." she gave him that, thinking he'd take it to the bog; but he fell to on the spot, and did not leave a scrap to tell tales on him; and the mistress was a little astonished. he called to speak to the master in the haggard and said he, "what are servants asked to do in this country after aten their supper?" "nothing at all, but to go to bed." "oh, very well, sir." he went up on the stable-loft, stripped, and lay down, and some one that saw him told the master. he came up. "jack, you anointed scoundrel, what do you mean?" "to go to sleep, master. the mistress, god bless her, is after giving me my breakfast, dinner, and supper, and yourself told me that bed was the next thing. do you blame me, sir?" "yes, you rascal, i do." "hand me out one pound thirteen and fourpence, if you please, sir." "one divil and thirteen imps, you tinker! what for?" "oh, i see, you've forgot your bargain. are you sorry for it?" "oh, ya--no, i mean. i'll give you the money after your nap." next morning early, jack asked how he'd be employed that day. "you are to be holding the plough in that fallow, outside the paddock." the master went over about nine o'clock to see what kind of a ploughman was jack, and what did he see but the little boy driving the bastes, and the sock and coulter of the plough skimming along the sod, and jack pulling ding-dong again' the horses. "what are you doing, you contrary thief?" said the master. "an' ain't i strivin' to hold this divil of a plough, as you told me; but that ounkrawn of a boy keeps whipping on the bastes in spite of all i say; will you speak to him?" "no, but i'll speak to you. didn't you know, you bosthoon, that when i said 'holding the plough,' i meant reddening the ground." "faith, an' if you did, i wish you had said so. do you blame me for what i have done?" the master caught himself in time, but he was so stomached, he said nothing. "go on and redden the ground now, you knave, as other ploughmen do." "an' are you sorry for our agreement?" "oh, not at all, not at all!" jack ploughed away like a good workman all the rest of the day. in a day or two the master bade him go and mind the cows in a field that had half of it under young corn. "be sure, particularly," said he, "to keep browney from the wheat; while she's out of mischief there's no fear of the rest." about noon, he went to see how jack was doing his duty, and what did he find but jack asleep with his face to the sod, browney grazing near a thorn-tree, one end of a long rope round her horns, and the other end round the tree, and the rest of the beasts all trampling and eating the green wheat. down came the switch on jack. "jack, you vagabone, do you see what the cows are at?" "and do you blame me, master?" "to be sure, you lazy sluggard, i do?" [illustration:] "hand me out one pound thirteen and fourpence, master. you said if i only kept browney out of mischief, the rest would do no harm. there she is as harmless as a lamb. are you sorry for hiring me, master?" "to be--that is, not at all. i'll give you your money when you go to dinner. now, understand me; don't let a cow go out of the field nor into the wheat the rest of the day." "never fear, master!" and neither did he. but the churl would rather than a great deal he had not hired him. the next day three heifers were missing, and the master bade jack go in search of them. "where will i look for them?" said jack. "oh, every place likely and unlikely for them all to be in." [illustration:] the churl was getting very exact in his words. when he was coming into the bawn at dinnertime, what work did he find jack at but pulling armfuls of the thatch off the roof, and peeping into the holes he was making? "what are you doing there, you rascal?" "sure, i'm looking for the heifers, poor things?" "what would bring them there?" "i don't think anything could bring them in it; but i looked first into the likely places, that is, the cow-houses, and the pastures, and the fields next 'em, and now i'm looking in the unlikeliest place i can think of. maybe it's not pleasing to you it is." "and to be sure it isn't pleasing to me, you aggravating goose-cap!" "please, sir, hand me one pound thirteen and fourpence before you sit down to your dinner. i'm afraid it's sorrow that's on you for hiring me at all." "may the div--oh no; i'm not sorry. will you begin, if you please, and put in the thatch again, just as if you were doing it for your mother's cabin?" "oh, faith i will, sir, with a heart and a half"; and by the time the farmer came out for his dinner, jack had the roof better than it was before, for he made the boy give him new straw. says the master when he came out, "go, jack, and look for the heifers, and bring them home." "and where will i look for 'em?" "go and search for them as if they were your own." the heifers were all in the paddock before sunset. next morning says the master, "jack, the path across the bog to the pasture is very bad; the sheep does be sinking in it every step; go and make the sheep's feet a good path." about an hour after he came to the edge of the bog, and what did he find jack at but sharpening a carving knife, and the sheep standing or grazing around. "is this the way you are mending the path, jack?" said he. "everything must have a beginning master," said jack, "and a thing well begun is half done. i am sharpening the knife, and i'll have the feet off every sheep in the flock while you'd be blessing yourself." "feet off my sheep, you anointed rogue! and what would you be taking their feet off for?" "an' sure to mend the path as you told me. says you, 'jack, make a path with the foot of the sheep.'" "oh, you fool, i meant make good the path for the sheep's feet." "it's a pity you didn't say so, master. hand me out, one pound thirteen and fourpence if you don't like me to finish my job." "divil do you good with your one pound thirteen and fourpence!" "it's better pray than curse, master. maybe you're sorry for your bargain?" "and to be sure i am--not yet, any way." the next night the master was going to a wedding; and says he to jack, before he set out: "i'll leave at midnight, and i wish you to come and be with me home, for fear i might be overtaken with the drink. if you're there before, you may throw a sheep's eye at me, and i'll be sure to see that they'll give you something for yourself." about eleven o'clock, while the master was in great spirits, he felt something clammy hit him on the cheek. it fell beside his tumbler, and when he looked at it what was it but the eye of a sheep. well, he couldn't imagine who threw it at him, or why it was thrown at him. after a little he got a blow on the other cheek, and still it was by another sheep's eye. well, he was very vexed, but he thought better to say nothing. in two minutes more, when he was opening his mouth to take a sup, another sheep's eye was slapped into it. he sputtered it out, and cried, "man o' the house, isn't it a great shame for you to have any one in the room that would do such a nasty thing?" "master," says jack, "don't blame the honest man. sure it's only myself that was throwin' them sheep's eyes at you, to remind you i was here, and that i wanted to drink the bride and bridegroom's health. you know yourself bade me." "i know that you are a great rascal; and where did you get the eyes?" "an' where would i get em' but in the heads of your own sheep? would you have me meddle with the bastes of any neighbour, who might put me in the stone jug for it?" "sorrow on me that ever i had the bad luck to meet with you." "you're all witness," said jack, "that my master says he is sorry for having met with me. my time is up. master, hand me over double wages, and come into the next room, and lay yourself out like a man that has some decency in him, till i take a strip of skin an inch broad from your shoulder to your hip." every one shouted out against that; but, says jack, "you didn't hinder him when he took the same strips from the backs of my two brothers, and sent them home in that state, and penniless, to their poor mother." when the company heard the rights of the business, they were only too eager to see the job done. the master bawled and roared, but there was no help at hand. he was stripped to his hips, and laid on the floor in the next room, and jack had the carving knife in his hand ready to begin. "now you cruel old villain," said he, giving the knife a couple of scrapes along the floor, "i'll make you an offer. give me, along with my double wages, two hundred guineas to support my poor brothers, and i'll do without the strip." "no!" said he, "i'd let you skin me from head to foot first." "here goes then," said jack with a grin, but the first little scar he gave, churl roared out, "stop your hand; i'll give the money." "now, neighbours," said jack, "you mustn't think worse of me than i deserve. i wouldn't have the heart to take an eye out of a rat itself; i got half a dozen of them from the butcher, and only used three of them." so all came again into the other room, and jack was made sit down, and everybody drank his health, and he drank everybody's health at one offer. and six stout fellows saw himself and the master home, and waited in the parlour while he went up and brought down the two hundred guineas, and double wages for jack himself. when he got home, he brought the summer along with him to the poor mother and the disabled brothers; and he was no more jack the fool in the people's mouths, but "skin churl jack." beth gellert prince llewelyn had a favourite greyhound named gellert that had been given to him by his father-in-law, king john. he was as gentle as a lamb at home but a lion in the chase. one day llewelyn went to the chase and blew his horn in front of his castle. all his other dogs came to the call but gellert never answered it. so he blew a louder blast on his horn and called gellert by name, but still the greyhound did not come. at last prince llewelyn could wait no longer and went off to the hunt without gellert. he had little sport that day because gellert was not there, the swiftest and boldest of his hounds. he turned back in a rage to his castle, and as he came to the gate, who should he see but gellert come bounding out to meet him. but when the hound came near him, the prince was startled to see that his lips and fangs were dripping with blood. llewelyn started back and the greyhound crouched down at his feet as if surprised or afraid at the way his master greeted him. now prince llewelyn had a little son a year old with whom gellert used to play, and a terrible thought crossed the prince's mind that made him rush towards the child's nursery. and the nearer he came the more blood and disorder he found about the rooms. he rushed into it and found the child's cradle overturned and daubed with blood. [illustration:] prince llewelyn grew more and more terrified, and sought for his little son everywhere. he could find him nowhere but only signs of some terrible conflict in which much blood had been shed. at last he felt sure the dog had destroyed his child, and shouting to gellert, "monster, thou hast devoured my child," he drew out his sword and plunged it in the greyhound's side, who fell with a deep yell and still gazing in his master's eyes. as gellert raised his dying yell, a little child's cry answered it from beneath the cradle, and there llewelyn found his child unharmed and just awakened from sleep. but just beside him lay the body of a great gaunt wolf all torn to pieces and covered with blood. too late, llewelyn learned what had happened while he was away. gellert had stayed behind to guard the child and had fought and slain the wolf that had tried to destroy llewelyn's heir. in vain was all llewelyn's grief; he could not bring his faithful dog to life again. so he buried him outside the castle walls within sight of the great mountain of snowdon, where every passer-by might see his grave, and raised over it a great cairn of stones. and to this day the place is called beth gellert, or the grave of gellert, and men say, "i repent me as much as the man that slew his greyhound." the tale of ivan [illustration:] there were formerly a man and a woman living in the parish of llanlavan, in the place which is called hwrdh. and work became scarce, so the man said to his wife, "i will go search for work, and you may live here." so he took fair leave, and travelled far toward the east, and at last came to the house of a farmer and asked for work. "what work can ye do?" said the farmer. "i can do all kinds of work," said ivan. then they agreed upon three pounds for the year's wages. when the end of the year came his master showed him the three pounds. "see, ivan," said he, "here's your wage; but if you will give it me back i'll give you a piece of advice instead." "give me my wage," said ivan. "no, i'll not," said the master; "i'll explain my advice." "tell it me, then," said ivan. then, said the master, "never leave the old road for the sake of a new one." after that they agreed for another year at the old wages, and at the end of it ivan took instead a piece of advice, and this was it: "never lodge where an old man is married to a young woman." the same thing happened at the end of the third year, when the piece of advice was: "honesty is the best policy." but ivan would not stay longer, but wanted to go back to his wife. "don't go to-day," said his master; "my wife bakes to-morrow, and she shall make thee a cake to take home to thy good woman." and when ivan was going to leave, "here," said his master, "here is a cake for thee to take home to thy wife, and, when ye are most joyous together, then break the cake, and not sooner." so he took fair leave of them and travelled towards home, and at last he came to wayn her, and there he met three merchants from tre rhyn, of his own parish, coming home from exeter fair. "oho! ivan," said they, "come with us; glad are we to see you. where have you been so long?" "i have been in service," said ivan, "and now i'm going home to my wife." "oh, come with us! you'll be right welcome." but when they took the new road ivan kept to the old one. and robbers fell upon them before they had gone far from ivan as they were going by the fields of the houses in the meadow. they began to cry out, "thieves!" and ivan shouted out, "thieves!" too. and when the robbers heard ivan's shout they ran away, and the merchants went by the new road and ivan by the old one till they met again at market-jew. "oh, ivan," said the merchants, "we are beholding to you; but for you we would have been lost men. come lodge with us at our cost, and welcome." when they came to the place where they used to lodge, ivan said, "i must see the host." "the host," they cried; "what do you want with the host? here is the hostess, and she's young and pretty. if you want to see the host you'll find him in the kitchen." so he went into the kitchen to see the host; he found him a weak old man turning the spit. "oh! oh!" quoth ivan, "i'll not lodge here, but will go next door." "not yet," said the merchants, "sup with us, and welcome." now it happened that the hostess had plotted with a certain monk in market-jew to murder the old man in his bed that night while the rest were asleep, and they agreed to lay it on the lodgers. so while ivan was in bed next door, there was a hole in the pine-end of the house, and he saw a light through it. so he got up and looked, and heard the monk speaking. "i had better cover this hole," said he, "or people in the next house may see our deeds." so he stood with his back against it while the hostess killed the old man. but meanwhile ivan out with his knife, and putting it through the whole, cut a round piece off the monk's robe. the very next morning the hostess raised the cry that her husband was murdered, and as there was neither man nor child in the house but the merchants, she declared they ought to be hanged for it. so they were taken and carried to prison, till at last ivan came to them. "alas! alas! ivan," cried they, "bad luck sticks to us; our host was killed last night, and we shall be hanged for it." "ah, tell the justices," said ivan, "to summon the real murderers." "who knows," they replied, "who committed the crime?" "who committed the crime!" said ivan. "if i cannot prove who committed the crime, hang me in your stead." so he told all he knew, and brought out the piece of cloth from the monk's robe, and with that the merchants were set at liberty, and the hostess and the monk were seized and hanged. then they came all together out of market-jew, and they said to him: "come as far as coed carrn y wylfa, the wood of the heap of stones of watching, in the parish of burman." then their two roads separated, and though the merchants wished ivan to go with them, he would not go with them, but went straight home to his wife. and when his wife saw him she said: "home in the nick of time. here's a purse of gold that i've found; it has no name, but sure it belongs to the great lord yonder. i was just thinking what to do when you came." then ivan thought of the third counsel, and he said: "let us go and give it to the great lord." so they went up to the castle, but the great lord was not in it, so they left the purse with the servant that minded the gate, and then they went home again and lived in quiet for a time. but one day the great lord stopped at their house for a drink of water, and ivan's wife said to him: "i hope your lordship found your lordship's purse quite safe with all its money in it." "what purse is that you are talking about?" said the lord. "sure, it's your lordship's purse that i left at the castle," says ivan. "come with me and we will see into the matter," said the lord. so ivan and his wife went up to the castle, and there they pointed out the man to whom they had given the purse, and he had to give it up and was sent away from the castle. and the lord was so pleased with ivan that he made him his servant in the stead of the thief. "honesty's the best policy!" quoth ivan, as he skipped about in his new quarters. "how joyful i am!" then he thought of his old master's cake that he was to eat when he was most joyful, and when he broke it, lo and behold, inside it was his wages for the three years he had been with him. andrew coffey my grandfather, andrew coffey, was known to the whole barony as a quiet, decent man. and if the whole barony knew him, he knew the whole barony, every inch, hill and dale, bog and pasture, field and covert. fancy his surprise one evening, when he found himself in a part of the demesne he couldn't recognise a bit. he and his good horse were always stumbling up against some tree or stumbling down into some bog-hole that by rights didn't ought to be there. on the top of all this the rain came pelting down wherever there was a clearing, and the cold march wind tore through the trees. glad he was when he saw a light in the distance, and drawing near found a cabin, though for the life of him he couldn't think how it came there. however, in he walked, after tying up his horse, and right welcome was the brushwood fire blazing on the hearth. and there stood a chair right and tight, that seemed to say, "come, sit down in me." there wasn't a soul else in the room. well, he did sit, and got a little warm and cheered after his drenching. but all the while he was wondering and wondering. "andrew coffey! andrew coffey!" good heavens! who was calling him, and not a soul in sight? look around as he might, indoors and out, he could find no creature with two legs or four, for his horse was gone. "andrew coffey! andrew coffey! tell me a story." it was louder this time, and it was nearer. and then what a thing to ask for! it was bad enough not to be let sit by the fire and dry oneself, without being bothered for a story. "andrew coffey! andrew coffey! tell me a story, or it'll be the worse for you." my poor grandfather was so dumfounded that he could only stand and stare. "andrew coffey! andrew coffey! i told you it'd be the worse for you." and with that, out there bounced from a cupboard that andrew coffey had never noticed before, _a man_. and the man was in a towering rage. but it wasn't that. and he carried as fine a blackthorn as you'd wish to crack a man's head with. but it wasn't that either. but when my grandfather clapped eyes on him, he knew him for patrick rooney, and all the world knew _he'd_ gone overboard, fishing one night, long years before. andrew coffey would neither stop nor stay, but he took to his heels and was out of the house as hard as he could. he ran and he ran, taking little thought of what was before till at last he ran up against a big tree. and then he sat down to rest. he hadn't sat for a moment when he heard voices. "it's heavy he is the vagabond." "steady now, we'll rest when we get under the big tree yonder." now that happened to be the tree under which andrew coffey was sitting. at least he thought so, for seeing a branch handy he swung himself up by it, and was soon snugly hidden away. better see than be seen, thought he. the rain had stopped and the wind fallen. the night was blacker than ever, but andrew coffey could see four men, and they were carrying between them a long box. under the tree they came, set the box down, opened it, and who should they bring out but--patrick rooney. never a word did he say, and he looked as pale as old snow. well, one gathered brushwood, and another took out tinder and flint, and they soon had a big fire roaring, and my grandfather could see patrick plainly enough. if he had kept still before, he kept stiller now. soon they had four poles up and a pole across, right over the fire, for all the world like a spit, and on to the pole they slung patrick rooney. "he'll do well enough," said one; "but who's to mind him whilst we're away, who'll turn the fire, who'll see that he doesn't burn?" with that patrick opened his lips: "andrew coffey!" said he. "andrew coffey! andrew coffey! andrew coffey! andrew coffey!" "i'm much obliged to you, gentlemen," said andrew coffey, "but indeed i know nothing about the business." "you'd better come down, andrew coffey," said patrick. it was the second time he spoke, and andrew coffey decided he would come down. the four men went off, and he was left all alone with patrick. then he sat and he kept the fire even, and he kept the spit turning, and all the while patrick looked at him. poor andrew coffey couldn't make it all out, at all, at all, and he stared at patrick and at the fire, and he thought of the little house in the wood, till he felt quite dazed. "ah, but it's burning me, ye are!" says patrick, very short and sharp. "i'm sure i beg your pardon," said my grandfather, "but might i ask you a question?" "if you want a crooked answer," said patrick; "turn away, or it'll be the worse for you." but my grandfather couldn't get it out of his head, hadn't everybody, far and near, said patrick had fallen overboard. there was enough to think about, and my grandfather did think. "andrew coffey! andrew coffey! it's burning me ye are." sorry enough my grandfather was, and he vowed he wouldn't do so again. "you'd better not," said patrick, and he gave him a cock of his eye, and a grin of his teeth, that just sent a shiver down andrew coffey's back. well, it was odd, that here he should be in a thick wood he had never set eyes upon, turning patrick rooney upon a spit. you can't wonder at my grandfather thinking and thinking and not minding the fire. "andrew coffey! andrew coffey! it's the death of you i'll be." and with that what did my grandfather see, but patrick unslinging himself from the spit, and his eyes glared and his teeth glistened. [illustration:] it was neither stop nor stay my grandfather made, but out he ran into the night of the wood. it seemed to him there wasn't a stone but was for his stumbling, not a branch but beat his face, not a bramble but tore his skin. and wherever it was clear the rain pelted down and the cold march wind howled along. glad was he to see a light, and a minute after he was kneeling, dazed, drenched, and bedraggled by the hearth side. the brushwood flamed, and the brushwood crackled, and soon my grandfather began to feel a little warm and dry and easy in his mind. "andrew coffey! andrew coffey!" it's hard for a man to jump when he has been through all my grandfather had, but jump he did. and when he looked around, where should he find himself but in the very cabin he had first met patrick in. "andrew coffey, andrew coffey, tell me a story." "is it a story you want?" said my grandfather as bold as may be, for he was just tired of being frightened. "well, if you can tell me the rights of this one, i'll be thankful." and he told the tale of what had befallen him from first to last that night. the tale was long, and maybe andrew coffey was weary. it's asleep he must have fallen, for when he awoke he lay on the hill-side under the open heavens, and his horse grazed at his side. the battle of the birds [illustration:] i will tell you a story about the wren. there was once a farmer who was seeking a servant, and the wren met him and said: "what are you seeking?" "i am seeking a servant," said the farmer to the wren. "will you take me?" said the wren. "you, you poor creature what good would you do?" "try me," said the wren. so he engaged him, and the first work he set him to do was threshing in the barn. the wren threshed (what did he thresh with? why, a flail to be sure), and he knocked off one grain. a mouse came out and she eats that. "i'll trouble you not to do that again," said the wren. he struck again, and he struck off two grains. out came the mouse and she eats them. so they arranged a contest to see who was strongest, and the wren brings his twelve birds, and the mouse her tribe. "you have your tribe with you," said the wren. "as well as yourself," said the mouse, and she struck out her leg proudly. but the wren broke it with his flail, and there was a pitched battle on a set day. when every creature and bird was gathering to battle, the son of the king of tethertown said that he would go to see the battle, and that he would bring sure word home to his father the king, who would be king of the creatures this year. the battle was over before he arrived all but one fight, between a great black raven and a snake. the snake was twined about the raven's neck, and the raven held the snake's throat in his beak, and it seemed as if the snake would get the victory over the raven. when the king's son saw this he helped the raven, and with one blow takes the head off the snake. when the raven had taken breath, and saw that the snake was dead, he said, "for thy kindness to me this day, i will give thee a sight. come up now on the root of my two wings." the king's son put his hands about the raven before his wings, and before he stopped, he took him over nine bens, and nine glens, and nine mountain moors. "now," said the raven, "see you that house yonder? go now to it. it is a sister of mine that makes her dwelling in it; and i will go bail that you are welcome. and if she asks you, 'were you at the battle of the birds?' say you were. and if she asks, 'did you see any one like me,' say you did, but be sure that you meet me to-morrow morning here, in this place." the king's son got good and right good treatment that night. meat of each meat, drink of each drink, warm water to his feet, and a soft bed for his limbs. on the next day the raven gave him the same sight over six bens, and six glens, and six mountain moors. they saw a bothy far off, but, though far off, they were soon there. he got good treatment this night, as before--plenty of meat and drink, and warm water to his feet, and a soft bed to his limbs--and on the next day it was the same thing, over three bens, and three glens, and three mountain moors. on the third morning, instead of seeing the raven as at the other times, who should meet him but the handsomest lad he ever saw, with gold rings in his hair, with a bundle in his hand. the king's son asked this lad if he had seen a big black raven. said the lad to him, "you will never see the raven again, for i am that raven. i was put under spells by a bad druid; it was meeting you that loosed me, and for that you shall get this bundle. now," said the lad, "you must turn back on the self-same steps, and lie a night in each house as before; but you must not loose the bundle which i gave ye, till in the place where you would most wish to dwell." the king's son turned his back to the lad, and his face to his father's house; and he got lodging from the raven's sisters, just as he got it when going forward. when he was nearing his father's house he was going through a close wood. it seemed to him that the bundle was growing heavy, and he thought he would look what was in it. when he loosed the bundle he was astonished. in a twinkling he sees the very grandest place he ever saw. a great castle, and an orchard about the castle, in which was every kind of fruit and herb. he stood full of wonder and regret for having loosed the bundle--for it was not in his power to put it back again--and he would have wished this pretty place to be in the pretty little green hollow that was opposite his father's house; but he looked up and saw a great giant coming towards him. "bad 's the place where you have built the house, king's son," says the giant. "yes, but it is not here i would wish it to be, though it happens to be here by mishap," says the king's son. "what's the reward for putting it back in the bundle as it was before?" "what's the reward you would ask?" says the king's son. "that you will give me the first son you have when he is seven years of age," says the giant. "if i have a son you shall have him," said the king's son. in a twinkling the giant put each garden, and orchard, and castle in the bundle as they were before. "now," says the giant, "take your own road, and i will take mine; but mind your promise, and if you forget i will remember." the king's son took to the road, and at the end of a few days he reached the place he was fondest of. he loosed the bundle, and the castle was just as it was before. and when he opened the castle door he sees the handsomest maiden he ever cast eye upon. "advance, king's son," said the pretty maid; "everything is in order for you, if you will marry me this very day." "it's i that am willing," said the king's son. and on the same day they married. but at the end of a day and seven years, who should be seen coming to the castle but the giant. the king's son was reminded of his promise to the giant, and till now he had not told his promise to the queen. "leave the matter between me and the giant," says the queen. "turn out your son," says the giant; "mind your promise." "you shall have him," says the king, "when his mother puts him in order for his journey." the queen dressed up the cook's son, and she gave him to the giant by the hand. the giant went away with him; but he had not gone far when he put a rod in the hand of the little laddie. the giant asked him-- "if thy father had that rod what would he do with it?" "if my father had that rod he would beat the dogs and the cats, so that they shouldn't be going near the king's meat," said the little laddie. "thou 'rt the cook's son," said the giant. he catches him by the two small ankles and knocks him against the stone that was beside him. the giant turned back to the castle in rage and madness, and he said that if they did not send out the king's son to him, the highest stone of the castle would be the lowest. said the queen to the king, "we'll try it yet; the butler's son is of the same age as our son." she dressed up the butler's son, and she gives him to the giant by the hand. the giant had not gone far when he put the rod in his hand. "if thy father had that rod," says the giant, "what would he do with it?" "he would beat the dogs and the cats when they would be coming near the king's bottles and glasses." "thou art the son of the butler," says the giant and dashed his brains out too. the giant returned in a very great rage and anger. the earth shook under the soles of his feet, and the castle shook and all that was in it. "out here with thy son," says the giant, "or in a twinkling the stone that is highest in the dwelling will be the lowest." so they had to give the king's son to the giant. when they were gone a little bit from the earth, the giant showed him the rod that was in his hand and said: "what would thy father do with this rod if he had it?" the king's son said: "my father has a braver rod than that." and the giant asked him, "where is thy father when he has that brave rod?" and the king's son said, "he will be sitting in his kingly chair." then the giant understood that he had the right one. the giant took him to his own house, and he reared him as his own son. on a day of days when the giant was from home, the lad heard the sweetest music he ever heard in a room at the top of the giant's house. at a glance he saw the finest face he had ever seen. she beckoned to him to come a bit nearer to her, and she said her name was auburn mary but she told him to go this time, but to be sure to be at the same place about that dead midnight. and as he promised he did. the giant's daughter was at his side in a twinkling, and she said, "to-morrow you will get the choice of my two sisters to marry; but say that you will not take either, but me. my father wants me to marry the son of the king of the green city, but i don't like him." on the morrow the giant took out his three daughters, and he said: "now, son of the king of tethertown, thou hast not lost by living with me so long. thou wilt get to wife one of the two eldest of my daughters, and with her leave to go home with her the day after the wedding." "if you will give me this pretty little one," says the king's son, "i will take you at your word." the giant's wrath kindled, and he said: "before thou gett'st her thou must do the three things that i ask thee to do." "say on," says the king's son. the giant took him to the byre. "now," says the giant, "a hundred cattle are stabled here, and it has not been cleansed for seven years. i am going from home to-day, and if this byre is not cleaned before night comes, so clean that a golden apple will run from end to end of it, not only thou shalt not get my daughter, but 'tis only a drink of thy fresh, goodly, beautiful blood that will quench my thirst this night." he begins cleaning the byre, but he might just as well keep baling the great ocean. after midday when sweat was blinding him, the giant's youngest daughter came where he was, and she said to him: "you are being punished, king's son." "i am that," says the king's son. "come over," says auburn mary, "and lay down your weariness." "i will do that," says he, "there is but death awaiting me, at any rate." he sat down near her. he was so tired that he fell asleep beside her. when he awoke, the giant's daughter was not to be seen, but the byre was so well cleaned that a golden apple would run from end to end of it and raise no stain. in comes the giant, and he said: "hast thou cleaned the byre, king's son?" "i have cleaned it," says he. "somebody cleaned it," says the giant. "you did not clean it, at all events," said the king's son. "well, well!" says the giant, "since thou wert so active to-day, thou wilt get to this time to-morrow to thatch this byre with birds' down, from birds with no two feathers of one colour." the king's son was on foot before the sun; he caught up his bow and his quiver of arrows to kill the birds. he took to the moors, but if he did, the birds were not so easy to take. he was running after them till the sweat was blinding him. about midday who should come but auburn mary. "you are exhausting yourself, king's son," says she. "i am," said he. "there fell but these two blackbirds, and both of one colour." "come over and lay down your weariness on this pretty hillock," says the giant's daughter. "it's i am willing," said he. he thought she would aid him this time, too, and he sat down near her, and he was not long there till he fell asleep. when he awoke, auburn mary was gone. he thought he would go back to the house, and he sees the byre thatched with feathers. when the giant came home, he said: "hast thou thatched the byre, king's son?" "i thatched it," says he. "somebody thatched it," says the giant. "you did not thatch it," says the king's son. "yes, yes!" says the giant. "now," says the giant, "there is a fir tree beside that loch down there, and there is a magpie's nest in its top. the eggs thou wilt find in the nest. i must have them for my first meal. not one must be burst or broken, and there are five in the nest." early in the morning the king's son went where the tree was, and that tree was not hard to hit upon. its match was not in the whole wood. from the foot to the first branch was five hundred feet. the king's son was going all round the tree. she came who was always bringing help to him. "you are losing the skin of your hands and feet." "ach! i am," says he. "i am no sooner up than down." "this is no time for stopping," says the giant's daughter. "now you must kill me, strip the flesh from my bones, take all those bones apart, and use them as steps for climbing the tree. when you are climbing the tree, they will stick to the glass as if they had grown out of it; but when you are coming down, and have put your foot on each one, they will drop into your hand when you touch them. be sure and stand on each bone, leave none untouched; if you do, it will stay behind. put all my flesh into this clean cloth by the side of the spring at the roots of the tree. when you come to the earth, arrange my bones together, put the flesh over them, sprinkle it with water from the spring, and i shall be alive before you. but don't forget a bone of me on the tree." [illustration: the giant's daughter bids the birds watch her father's byre.] "how could i kill you," asked the king's son, "after what you have done for me?" "if you won't obey, you and i are done for," said auburn mary. "you must climb the tree, or we are lost; and to climb the tree you must do as i say." the king's son obeyed. he killed auburn mary, cut the flesh from her body, and unjointed the bones, as she had told him. as he went up, the king's son put the bones of auburn mary's body against the side of the tree, using them as steps, till he came under the nest and stood on the last bone. then he took the eggs, and coming down, put his foot on every bone, then took it with him, till he came to the last bone, which was so near the ground that he failed to touch it with his foot. he now placed all the bones of auburn mary in order again at the side of the spring, put the flesh on them, sprinkled it with water from the spring. she rose up before him, and said: "didn't i tell you not to leave a bone of my body without stepping on it? now i am lame for life! you left my little finger on the tree without touching it, and i have but nine fingers." "now," says she, "go home with the eggs quickly, and you will get me to marry to-night if you can know me. i and my two sisters will be arrayed in the same garments, and made like each other, but look at me when, my father says, 'go to thy wife, king's son'; and you will see a hand without a little finger." he gave the eggs to the giant. "yes, yes!" said the giant, "be making ready for your marriage." then, indeed, there was a wedding, and it _was_ a wedding! giants and gentlemen, and the son of the king of the green city was in the midst of them. they were married, and the dancing began, that was a dance! the giant's house was shaking from top to bottom. but bed time came, and the giant said, "it is time for thee to go to rest, son of the king of tethertown; choose thy bride to take with thee from amidst those." she put out the hand off which the little finger was, and he caught her by the hand. "thou hast aimed well this time too; but there is no knowing but we may meet thee another way," said the giant. but to rest they went. "now," says she, "sleep not, or else you are a dead man. we must fly quick, quick, or for certain my father will kill you." out they went, and on the blue grey filly in the stable they mounted. "stop a while," says she, "and i will play a trick to the old hero." she jumped in, and cut an apple into nine shares, and she put two shares at the head of the bed, and two shares at the foot of the bed, and two shares at the door of the kitchen, and two shares at the big door, and one outside the house. the giant awoke and called, "are you asleep?" "not yet," said the apple that was at the head of the bed. at the end of a while he called again. "not yet," said the apple that was at the foot of the bed. a while after this he called again: "are you asleep?" "not yet," said the apple at the kitchen door, the giant called again. the apple that was at the big door answered. "you are now going far from me," says the giant. "not yet," says the apple that was outside the house. "you are flying," says the giant. the giant jumped on his feet, and to the bed he went, but it was cold--empty. "my own daughter's tricks are trying me," said the giant. "here's after them," says he. at the mouth of the day, the giant's daughter said that her father's breath was burning her back. "put your hand, quick," said she, "in the ear of the grey filly, and whatever you find in it, throw it behind us." "there is a twig of sloe tree," said he. "throw it behind us," said she. no sooner did he that, than there were twenty miles of blackthorn wood, so thick that scarce a weasel could go through it. the giant came headlong, and there he is fleecing his head and neck in the thorns. "my own daughter's tricks are here as before," said the giant; "but if i had my own big axe and wood knife here, i would not be long making a way through this." he went home for the big axe and the wood knife, and sure he was not long on his journey, and he was the boy behind the big axe. he was not long making a way through the blackthorn. "i will leave the axe and the wood knife here till i return," says he. "if you leave 'em, leave 'em," said a hoodie that was in a tree, "we'll steal 'em, steal 'em." "if you will do that," says the giant, "i must take them home." he returned home and left them at the house. at the heat of day the giant's daughter felt her father's breath burning her back. "put your finger in the filly's ear, and throw behind whatever you find in it." he got a splinter of grey stone, and in a twinkling there were twenty miles, by breadth and height, of great grey rock behind them. the giant came full pelt, but past the rock he could not go. "the tricks of my own daughter are the hardest things that ever met me," says the giant; "but if i had my lever and my mighty mattock, i would not be long in making my way through this rock also." there was no help for it, but to turn the chase for them; and he was the boy to split the stones. he was not long in making a road through the rock. "i will leave the tools here, and i will return no more." "if you leave 'em, leave 'em," says the hoodie, "we will steal 'em, steal 'em." "do that if you will; there is no time to go back." at the time of breaking the watch, the giant's daughter said that she felt her father's breath burning her back. "look in the filly's ear, king's son, or else we are lost." he did so, and it was a bladder of water that was in her ear this time. he threw it behind him and there was a fresh-water loch, twenty miles in length and breadth, behind them. the giant came on, but with the speed he had on him, he was in the middle of the loch, and he went under, and he rose no more. on the next day the young companions were come in sight of his father's house. "now," says she, "my father is drowned, and he won't trouble us any more; but before we go further," says she, "go you to your father's house, and tell that you have the likes of me; but let neither man nor creature kiss you, for if you do, you will not remember that you have ever seen me." every one he met gave him welcome and luck, and he charged his father and mother not to kiss him; but as mishap was to be, an old greyhound was indoors, and she knew him, and jumped up to his mouth, and after that he did not remember the giant's daughter. she was sitting at the well's side as he left her, but the king's son was not coming. in the mouth of night she climbed up into a tree of oak that was beside the well, and she lay in the fork of that tree all night. a shoemaker had a house near the well, and about midday on the morrow, the shoemaker asked his wife to go for a drink for him out of the well. when the shoemaker's wife reached the well, and when she saw the shadow of her that was in the tree, thinking it was her own shadow--and she never thought till now that she was so handsome--she gave a cast to the dish that was in her hand, and it was broken on the ground, and she took herself to the house without vessel or water. "where is the water, wife?" said the shoemaker. "you shambling, contemptible old carle, without grace, i have stayed too long your water and wood thrall." "i think, wife, that you have turned crazy. go you, daughter, quickly, and fetch a drink for your father." his daughter went, and in the same way so it happened to her. she never thought till now that she was so lovable, and she took herself home. "up with the drink," said her father. "you home-spun shoe carle, do you think i am fit to be your thrall?" the poor shoemaker thought that they had taken a turn in their understandings, and he went himself to the well. he saw the shadow of the maiden in the well, and he looked up to the tree, and he sees the finest woman he ever saw. "your seat is wavering, but your face is fair," said the shoemaker. "come down, for there is need of you for a short while at my house." the shoemaker understood that this was the shadow that had driven his people mad. the shoemaker took her to his house, and he said that he had but a poor bothy, but that she should get a share of all that was in it. one day, the shoemaker had shoes ready, for on that very day the king's son was to be married. the shoemaker was going to the castle with the shoes of the young people, and the girl said to the shoemaker, "i would like to get a sight of the king's son before he marries." "come with me," says the shoemaker, "i am well acquainted with the servants at the castle, and you shall get a sight of the king's son and all the company." and when the gentles saw the pretty woman that was here they took her to the wedding-room, and they filled for her a glass of wine. when she was going to drink what was in it, a flame went up out of the glass, and a golden pigeon and a silver pigeon sprang out of it. they were flying about when three grains of barley fell on the floor. the silver pigeon sprang, and ate that up. said the golden pigeon to him, "if you remembered when i cleared the byre, you would not eat that without giving me a share." again there fell three other grains of barley, and the silver pigeon sprang, and ate that up as before. "if you remembered when i thatched the byre, you would not eat that without giving me my share," says the golden pigeon. three other grains fall, and the silver pigeon sprang, and ate that up. "if you remembered when i harried the magpie's nest, you would not eat that without giving me my share," says the golden pigeon; "i lost my little finger bringing it down, and i want it still." the king's son minded, and he knew who it was that was before him. "well," said the king's son to the guests at the feast, "when i was a little younger than i am now, i lost the key of a casket that i had. i had a new key made, but after it was brought to me i found the old one. now, i'll leave it to any one here to tell me what i am to do. which of the keys should i keep?" "my advice to you," said one of the guests, "is to keep the old key, for it fits the lock better, and you're more used to it." then the king's son stood up and said: "i thank you for a wise advice and an honest word. this is my bride the daughter of the giant who saved my life at the risk of her own. i'll have her and no other woman." so the king's son married auburn mary and the wedding lasted long and all were happy. but all i got was butter on a live coal, porridge in a basket, and paper shoes for my feet, and they sent me for water to the stream, and the paper shoes came to an end. brewery of eggshells [illustration:] in treneglwys there is a certain shepherd's cot known by the name of twt y cymrws because of the strange strife that occurred there. there once lived there a man and his wife, and they had twins whom the woman nursed tenderly. one day she was called away to the house of a neighbour at some distance. she did not much like going and leaving her little ones all alone in a solitary house, especially as she had heard tell of the good folk haunting the neighbourhood. well, she went and came back as soon as she could, but on her way back she was frightened to see some old elves of the blue petticoat crossing her path though it was midday. she rushed home, but found her two little ones in the cradle and everything seemed as it was before. but after a time the good people began to suspect that something was wrong, for the twins didn't grow at all. the man said: "they're not ours." the woman said: "whose else should they be?" and so arose the great strife so that the neighbours named the cottage after it. it made the woman very sad, so one evening she made up her mind to go and see the wise man of llanidloes, for he knew everything and would advise her what to do. so she went to llanidloes and told the case to the wise man. now there was soon to be a harvest of rye and oats, so the wise man said to her, "when you are getting dinner for the reapers, clear out the shell of a hen's egg and boil some pottage in it, and then take it to the door as if you meant it as a dinner for the reapers. then listen if the twins say anything. if you hear them speaking of things beyond the understanding of children, go back and take them up and throw them into the waters of lake elvyn. but if you don't hear anything remarkable, do them no injury." so when the day of the reap came the woman did all that the wise man ordered, and put the eggshell on the fire and took it off and carried it to the door, and there she stood and listened. then she heard one of the children say to the other: acorn before oak i knew, an egg before a hen, but i never heard of an eggshell brew a dinner for harvest men. so she went back into the house, seized the children and threw them into the llyn, and the goblins in their blue trousers came and saved their dwarfs and the mother had her own children back and so the great strife ended. the lad with the goat-skin long ago a poor widow woman lived down near the iron forge, by enniscorth, and she was so poor she had no clothes to put on her son; so she used to fix him in the ash-hole, near the fire, and pile the warm ashes about him; and according as he grew up, she sunk the pit deeper. at last, by hook or by crook, she got a goat-skin, and fastened it round his waist, and he felt quite grand, and took a walk down the street. so says she to him next morning, "tom, you thief, you never done any good yet, and you six foot high, and past nineteen;--take that rope and bring me a faggot from the wood." "never say't twice, mother," says tom--"here goes." when he had it gathered and tied, what should come up but a big giant, nine foot high, and made a lick of a club at him. well become tom, he jumped a-one side, and picked up a ram-pike; and the first crack he gave the big fellow, he made him kiss the clod. "if you have e'er a prayer," says tom, "now's the time to say it, before i make fragments of you." "i have no prayers," says the giant; "but if you spare my life i'll give you that club; and as long as you keep from sin, you'll win every battle you ever fight with it." tom made no bones about letting him off; and as soon as he got the club in his hands, he sat down on the bresna, and gave it a tap with the kippeen, and says, "faggot, i had great trouble gathering you, and run the risk of my life for you, the least you can do is to carry me home." and sure enough the wind o' the word was all it wanted. it went off through the wood, groaning and crackling, till it came to the widow's door. well, when the sticks were all burned, tom was sent off again to pick more; and this time he had to fight with a giant that had two heads on him. tom had a little more trouble with him--that's all; and the prayers he said, was to give tom a fife, that nobody could help dancing when he was playing it. begorries, he made the big faggot dance home, with himself sitting on it. the next giant was a beautiful boy with three heads on him. he had neither prayers nor catechism no more nor the others; and so he gave tom a bottle of green ointment, that wouldn't let you be burned, nor scalded, nor wounded. "and now," says he, "there's no more of us. you may come and gather sticks here till little lunacy day in harvest, without giant or fairy-man to disturb you." well, now, tom was prouder nor ten paycock, and used to take a walk down street in the heel of the evening; but some o' the little boys had no more manners than if they were dublin jackeens, and put out their tongues at tom's club and tom's goat-skin. he didn't like that at all, and it would be mean to give one of them a clout. at last what should come through the town but a kind of a bell-man, only it's a big bugle he had, and a huntsman's cap on his head, and a kind of painted shirt. so this--he wasn't a bell-man, and i don't know what to call him--bugle-man, maybe, proclaimed that the king of dublin's daughter was so melancholy that she didn't give a laugh for seven years, and that her father would grant her in marriage to whoever could make her laugh three times. "that's the very thing for me to try," says tom; and so, without burning any more daylight, he kissed his mother, curled his club at the little boys, and off he set along the yalla highroad to the town of dublin. at last tom came to one of the city gates, and the guards laughed and cursed at him instead of letting him in. tom stood it all for a little time, but at last one of them--out of fun, as he said,--drove his bayonet half an inch or so into his side. tom done nothing but take the fellow by the scruff o' the neck and the waistband of his corduroys, and fling him into the canal. some run to pull the fellow out, and others to let manners into the vulgarian with their swords and daggers; but a tap from his club sent them headlong into the moat or down on the stones, and they were soon begging him to stay his hands. so at last one of them was glad enough to show tom the way to the palace-yard; and there was the king, and the queen, and the princess in a gallery, looking at all sorts of wrestling, and sword-playing, and long dances, and mumming, all to please the princess; but not a smile came over her handsome face. well, they all stopped when they seen the young giant, with his boy's face, and long black hair, and his short curly beard--for his mother couldn't afford to buy razors--and his great strong arms, and bare legs, and no covering but the goat-skin that reached from his waist to his knees. but an envious wizened bit of a fellow, with a red head, that wished to be married to the princess, and didn't like how she opened her eyes at tom, came forward and asked his business very snappishly. "my business," said tom, says he, "is to make the beautiful princess, god bless her, laugh three times." "do you see all them merry fellows and skilful swordsmen," said the other, "that could eat you up with a grain of salt, and not a mother's soul of 'em ever got a laugh from her these seven years?" so the fellows gathered round tom, and the bad man aggravated him till he told them he didn't care a pinch o' snuff for the whole bilin' of 'em; let 'em come on, six at a time, and try what they could do. the king, who was too far off to hear what they were saying, asked what did the stranger want. "he wants," said the red-headed fellow, "to make hares of your best men." "oh!" says the king, "if that's the way, let one of 'em turn out and try his mettle." so one stood forward, with sword and pot-lid, and made a cut at tom. he struck the fellow's elbow with the club, and up over their heads flew the sword, and down went the owner of it on the gravel from a thump he got on the helmet. another took his place, and another, and another, and then half a dozen at once, and tom sent swords, helmets, shields, and bodies, rolling over and over, and themselves bawling out that they were kilt, and disabled and damaged, and rubbing their poor elbows and hips, and limping away. tom contrived not to kill any one; and the princess was so amused, that she let a great sweet laugh out of her that was heard over all the yard. "king of dublin," said tom, "i've quarter of your daughter." and the king didn't know whether he was glad or sorry, and all the blood in the princess's heart run into her cheeks. so there was no more fighting that day, and tom was invited to dine with the royal family. next day, redhead told tom of a wolf, the size of a yearling heifer, that used to be serenading about the walls, and eating people and cattle; and said what a pleasure it would give the king to have it killed. "with all my heart," says tom; "send a jackeen to show me where he lives, and we'll see how he behaves to a stranger." the princess was not well pleased for tom looked a different person with fine clothes and a nice green birredh over his long curly hair; and besides, he'd got one laugh out of her. however, the king gave his consent; and in an hour and a half the horrible wolf was walking into the palace-yard, and tom a step or two behind, with his club on his shoulder, just as a shepherd would be walking after a pet lamb. the king and queen and princess were safe up in their gallery, but the officers and people of the court that wor padrowling about the great bawn, when they saw the big baste coming in, gave themselves up, and began to make for doors and gates; and the wolf licked his chops, as if he was saying, "wouldn't i enjoy a breakfast off a couple of yez!" the king shouted out, "o tom with the goat-skin, take away that terrible wolf, and you must have all my daughter." but tom didn't mind him a bit. he pulled out his flute and began to play like vengeance; and dickens a man or boy in the yard but began shovelling away heel and toe, and the wolf himself was obliged to get on his hind legs and dance "tatther jack walsh," along with the rest. a good deal of the people got inside, and shut the doors, the way the hairy fellow wouldn't pin them; but tom kept playing, and the outsiders kept dancing and shouting, and the wolf kept dancing and roaring with the pain his legs were giving him; and all the time he had his eyes on redhead, who was shut out along with the rest. wherever redhead went, the wolf followed, and kept one eye on him and the other on tom, to see if he would give him leave to eat him. but tom shook his head, and never stopped the tune, and redhead never stopped dancing and bawling, and the wolf dancing and roaring one leg up and the other down, and he ready to drop out of his standing from fair tiresomeness. [illustration:] when the princess seen that there was no fear of any one being kilt, she was so divarted by the stew that redhead was in, that she gave another great laugh; and well become tom, out he cried, "king of dublin, i have two halves of your daughter." "oh, halves or alls," says the king, "put away that divil of a wolf, and we'll see about it." so tom put his flute in his pocket, and says he to the baste that was sittin' on his currabingo ready to faint, "walk off to your mountain, my fine fellow, and live like a respectable baste; and if ever i find you within seven miles of any town, i'll----" he said no more, but spit in his fist, and gave a flourish of his club. it was all the poor divil of a wolf wanted: he put his tail between his legs, and took to his pumps without looking at man or mortal, and neither sun, moon, nor stars ever saw him in sight of dublin again. at dinner every one laughed but the foxy fellow; and sure enough he was laying out how he'd settle poor tom next day. "well, to be sure!" says he, "king of dublin, you are in luck. there's the danes moidhering us to no end. deuce run to lusk wid 'em! and if any one can save us from 'em, it is this gentleman with the goat-skin. there is a flail hangin' on the collar-beam in hell, and neither dane nor devil can stand before it." "so," says tom to the king, "will you let me have the other half of the princess if i bring you the flail?" "no, no," says the princess; "i'd rather never be your wife than see you in that danger." but redhead whispered and nudged tom about how shabby it would look to reneague the adventure. so he asked which way he was to go, and redhead directed him. well, he travelled and travelled, till he came in sight of the walls of hell; and, bedad, before he knocked at the gates, he rubbed himself over with the greenish ointment. when he knocked, a hundred little imps popped their heads out through the bars, and axed him what he wanted. "i want to speak to the big divil of all," says tom; "open the gate." it wasn't long till the gate was thrune open, and the ould boy received tom with bows and scrapes, and axed his business. "my business isn't much," says tom. "i only came for the loan of that flail that i see hanging on the collar-beam, for the king of dublin to give a thrashing to the danes." "well," says the other, "the danes is much better customers to me; but since you walked so far i won't refuse. hand that flail," says he to a young imp; and he winked the far-off eye at the same time. so, while some were barring the gates, the young devil climbed up, and took down the flail that had the hand-staff and booltheen both made out of red-hot iron. the little vagabond was grinning to think how it would burn the hands o' tom, but the dickens a burn it made on him, no more nor if it was a good oak sapling. [illustration:] "thankee," says tom. "now would you open the gate for a body, and i'll give you no more trouble." "oh, tramp!" says ould nick; "is that the way? it is easier getting inside them gates than getting out again. take that tool from him, and give him a dose of the oil of stirrup." so one fellow put out his claws to seize on the flail, but tom give him such a welt of it on the side of the head that he broke off one of his horns, and made him roar like a devil as he was. well, they rushed at tom, but he gave them, little and big, such a thrashing as they didn't forget for a while. at last says the ould thief of all, rubbing his elbow, "let the fool out; and woe to whoever lets him in again, great or small." so out marched tom, and away with him, without minding the shouting and cursing they kept up at him from the tops of the walls; and when he got home to the big bawn of the palace, there never was such running and racing as to see himself and the flail. when he had his story told, he laid down the flail on the stone steps, and bid no one for their lives to touch it. if the king, and queen, and princess, made much of him before, they made ten times more of him now; but redhead, the mean scruff-hound, stole over, and thought to catch hold of the flail to make an end of him. his fingers hardly touched it, when he let a roar out of him as if heaven and earth were coming together, and kept flinging his arms about and dancing, that it was pitiful to look at him. tom ran at him as soon as he could rise, caught his hands in his own two, and rubbed them this way and that, and the burning pain left them before you could reckon one. well, the poor fellow between the pain that was only just gone, and the comfort he was in, had the comicalest face that you ever see, it was such a mixtherum-gatherum of laughing and crying. everybody burst out a laughing--the princess could not stop no more than the rest; and then says tom, "now, ma'am, if there were fifty halves of you, i hope you'll give me them all." well, the princess looked at her father, and by my word, she came over to tom, and put her two delicate hands into his two rough ones, and i wish it was myself was in his shoes that day! tom would not bring the flail into the palace. you may be sure no other body went near it; and when the early-risers were passing next morning, they found two long clefts in the stone, where it was after burning itself an opening downwards, nobody could tell how far. but a messenger came in at noon, and said that the danes were so frightened when they heard of the flail coming into dublin that they got into their ships and sailed away. well, i suppose, before they were married, tom got some man, like pat mara of tomenine, to learn him the "principles of politeness," fluxions, gunnery and fortification, decimal fractions, practice, and the rule of three direct, the way he'd be able to keep up a conversation with the royal family. whether he ever lost his time learning them sciences, i'm not sure, but it's as sure as fate that his mother never more saw any want till the end of her days. [illustration: man or woman boy or girl that reads what follows times shall fall asleep an hundred years john d batten drew this: aug th good-night. ] notes and references it may be as well to give the reader some account of the enormous extent of the celtic folk-tales in existence. i reckon these to extend to , though only about are in print. the former number exceeds that known in france, italy, germany, and russia, where collection has been most active, and is only exceeded by the ms. collection of finnish folk-tales at helsingfors, said to exceed , . as will be seen, this superiority of the celts is due to the phenomenal and patriotic activity of one man, the late j. f. campbell, of islay, whose _popular tales_ and ms. collections (partly described by mr. alfred nutt in _folk-lore_, i., - ) contain references to no less than tales (many of them, of course, variants and scraps). celtic folk-tales, while more numerous, are also the oldest of the tales of modern european races; some of them--_e. g._, "connla," in the present selection, occurring in the oldest irish vellums. they include ( ) fairy tales properly so-called--_i.e._, tales or anecdotes _about_ fairies, hobgoblins, etc., told as natural occurrences; ( ) hero-tales, stories of adventure told of national or mythical heroes; ( ) folk-tales proper, describing marvellous adventures of otherwise unknown heroes, in which there is a defined plot and supernatural characters (speaking animals, giants, dwarfs, etc.); and finally ( ) drolls, comic anecdotes of feats of stupidity or cunning. the collection of celtic folk-tales began in ireland as early as , with t. crofton croker's _fairy legends and traditions of the south of ireland_. this contained some anecdotes of the first-class mentioned above, anecdotes showing the belief of the irish peasantry in the existence of fairies, gnomes, goblins and the like. the grimms did croker the honour of translating part of his book, under the title of _irische elfenmärchen_. among the novelists and tale-writers of the schools of miss edgeworth and lever folk-tales were occasionally utilised, as by carleton in his _traits and stories_, by s. lover in his _legends and stories_, and by g. griffin in his _tales of a jury-room_. these all tell their tales in the manner of the stage irishman. chapbooks, _royal fairy tales_ and _hibernian tales_, also contained genuine folk-tales, and attracted thackeray's attention in his _irish sketch-book_. the irish grimm, however, was patrick kennedy, a dublin bookseller, who believed in fairies, and in five years ( - ) printed about folk and hero-tales and drolls (classes , and above) in his _legendary fictions of the irish celts_, , _fireside stories of ireland_, , and _bardic stories of ireland_, ; all three are now unfortunately out of print. he tells his stories neatly and with spirit, and retains much that is _volkstümlich_ in his diction. he derived his materials from the english speaking peasantry of county wexford, who changed from gaelic to english while story-telling was in full vigour, and therefore carried over the stories with the change of language. lady wilde has told many folk-tales very effectively in her _ancient legends of ireland_, . more recently two collectors have published stories gathered from peasants of the west and north who can only speak gaelic. these are an american gentleman named curtin, _myths and folk-tales of ireland_, , and dr. douglas hyde who has published in _beside the fire_, , spirited english versions of some of the stories he had published in the original irish in his _leabhar sgeulaigheachta_, dublin, . miss maclintock has a large ms. collection, part of which has appeared in various periodicals; and messrs. larminie and d. fitzgerald are known to have much story material in their possession. but beside these more modern collections there exist in old and middle irish a large number of hero-tales (class ) which formed the staple of the old _ollamhs_ or bards. of these tales of "cattle-liftings, elopements, battles, voyages, courtships, caves, lakes, feasts, sieges, and eruptions," a bard of even the fourth class had to know seven fifties, presumably one for each day of the year. sir william temple knew of a north-country gentleman of ireland who was sent to sleep every evening with a fresh tale from his bard. the _book of leinster_, an irish vellum of the twelfth century, contains a list of of these hero-tales, many of which are extant to this day; e. o'curry gives the list in the appendix to his _ms. materials of irish history_. another list of about is given in the preface to the third volume of the ossianic society's publications. dr. joyce published a few of the more celebrated of these in _old celtic romances_; others appeared in _atlantis_ (see notes on "deirdre") others in kennedy's _bardic stories_, mentioned above. turning to scotland, we must put aside chambers's _popular rhymes of scotland_, , which contains for the most part folk-tales common with those of england rather than those peculiar to the gaelic-speaking scots. the first name here in time as in importance is that of j. f. campbell, of islay. his four volumes, _popular tales of the west highlands_ (edinburgh, - , recently republished by the islay association), contain some folk and hero-tales, told with strict adherence to the language of the narrators, which is given with a literal, a rather too literal, english version. this careful accuracy has given an un-english air to his versions, and has prevented them attaining their due popularity. what campbell has published represents only a tithe of what he collected. at the end of the fourth volume he gives a list of tales, &c., collected by him or his assistants in the two years - ; and in his ms. collections at edinburgh are two other lists containing more tales. only a portion of these are in the advocates' library; the rest, if extant, must be in private hands, though they are distinctly of national importance and interest. campbell's influence has been effective of recent years in scotland. the _celtic magazine_ (vols. xii. and xiii.), while under the editorship of mr. macbain, contained several folk and hero-tales in gaelic, and so did the _scottish celtic review_. these were from the collections of messrs. campbell of tiree, carmichael, and k. macleod. recently lord archibald campbell has shown laudable interest in the preservation of gaelic folk and hero-tales. under his auspices a whole series of handsome volumes, under the general title of _waifs and strays of celtic tradition_, has been recently published, four volumes having already appeared, each accompanied by notes by mr. alfred nutt, which form the most important aid to the study of celtic folk-tales since campbell himself. those to the second volume in particular (tales collected by rev. d. macinnes) fill pages, with condensed information on all aspects of the subject dealt with in the light of the most recent research on the european folk-tales as well as on celtic literature. thanks to mr. nutt, scotland is just now to the fore in the collection and study of the british folk-tale. wales makes a poor show beside ireland and scotland. sikes's _british goblins_, and the tales collected by prof. rhys in _y cymmrodor_, vols. ii.-vi., are mainly of our first-class fairy anecdotes. borrow, in his _wild wales_, refers to a collection of fables in a journal called _the greal_, while the _cambrian quarterly magazine_ for and contained a few fairy anecdotes, including a curious version of the "brewery of eggshells," from the welsh. in the older literature, the _iolo mss._, published by the welsh mss. society, has a few fables and apologues, and the charming _mabinogion_, translated by lady guest, has tales that can trace back to the twelfth century and are on the border-line between folk-tales and hero-tales. cornwall and man are even worse off than wales. hunt's _popular romances of the west of england_ has nothing distinctively celtic, and it is only by a chance lhuyd chose a folk-tale as his specimen of cornish in his _archæologia britannica_ (see _tale of ivan_). the manx folk-tales published, including the most recent by mr. moore, in his _folk-lore of the isle of man_, , are mainly fairy anecdotes and legends. from this survey of the field of celtic folk-tales it is clear that ireland and scotland provide the lion's share. the interesting thing to notice is the remarkable similarity of scotch and irish folk-tales. the continuity of language and culture between these two divisions of gaeldom has clearly brought about this identity of their folk-tales. as will be seen from the following notes, the tales found in scotland can almost invariably be paralleled by those found in ireland, and _vice versâ_. the result is a striking confirmation of the general truth that the folk-lores of different countries resemble one another in proportion to their contiguity and to the continuity of language and culture between them. another point of interest in these celtic folk-tales is the light they throw upon the relation of hero-tales and folk-tales (classes and above). tales told of finn or cuchulainn, and therefore coming under the definition of hero-tales, are found elsewhere told of anonymous or unknown heroes. the question is, were the folk-tales the earliest, and were they localised and applied to the heroes, or were they heroic sagas generalised and applied to an unknown [greek: _tis_]? all the evidence, in my opinion, inclines to the former view, which, as applied to celtic folk-tales, is of very great literary importance; for it is becoming more and more recognised, thanks chiefly to the admirable work of mr. alfred nutt, in his _studies on the holy grail_, that the outburst of european romance in the twelfth century was due, in large measure, to an infusion of celtic hero-tales into the literature of the romance-speaking nations. now the remarkable thing is, how these hero-tales have lingered on in oral tradition even to the present day. (see a marked case in "deirdre.") we may, therefore, hope to see considerable light thrown on the most characteristic spiritual product of the middle ages, the literature of romance and the spirit of chivalry, from the celtic folk-tales of the present day. mr. alfred nutt has already shown this to be true of a special section of romance literature, that connected with the holy grail, and it seems probable that further study will extend the field of application of this new method of research. the celtic folk-tale again has interest in retaining many traits of primitive conditions among the early inhabitants of these isles which are preserved by no other record. take, for instance, the calm assumption of polygamy in "gold-tree and silver-tree." that represents a state of feeling that is decidedly pre-christian the belief in an eternal soul, "life index," recently monographed by mr. frazer in his "golden bough," also finds expression in a couple of the tales (see notes on "sea-maiden" and "fair, brown, and trembling"), and so with many other primitive ideas. care, however, has to be taken in using folk-tales as evidence for primitive practice among the nations where they are found. for the tales may have come from another race--that is, for example, probably the case with "gold-tree and silver-tree" (see notes). celtic tales are of peculiar interest in this connection, as they afford one of the best fields for studying the problem of diffusion, the most pressing of the problems of the folk-tales just at present, at least in my opinion. the celts are at the further-most end of europe. tales that travelled to them could go no further, and must therefore be the last links in the chain. for all these reasons, then, celtic folk-tales are of high scientific interest to the folk-lorist, while they yield to none in imaginative and literary qualities. in any other country of europe some national means of recording them would have long ago been adopted. m. luzel, _e. g._, was commissioned by the french minister of public instruction to collect and report on the breton folk-tales. england, here as elsewhere, without any organized means of scientific research in the historical and philological sciences, has to depend on the enthusiasm of a few private individuals for work of national importance. every celt of these islands or in the gaeldom beyond the sea, and every celt-lover among the english-speaking nations, should regard it as one of the duties of the race to put its traditions on record in the few years that now remain before they will cease for ever to be living in the hearts and memories of the humbler members of the race. in the following notes i have done as in my _english fairy tales_, and given, first, the _sources_ whence i drew the tales, then, _parallels_ at length for the british isles, with bibliographical references for parallels abroad, and finally, _remarks_ where the tales seemed to need them. in these i have not wearied or worried the reader with conventional tall talk about the celtic genius and its manifestations in the folk-tale; on that topic one can only repeat matthew arnold when at his best, in his _celtic literature_. nor have i attempted to deal with the more general aspects of the study of the celtic folk-tale. for these i must refer to mr. nutt's series of papers in _the celtic magazine_, vol. xii., or, still better, to the masterly introductions he is contributing to the series of _waifs and strays of celtic tradition_, and to dr. hyde's _beside the fireside_. in my remarks i have mainly confined myself to discussing the origin and diffusion of the various tales, so far as anything definite could be learnt or conjectured on that subject. before proceeding to the notes, i may "put in," as the lawyers say, a few summaries of the results reached in them. of the twenty-six tales, twelve (i., ii., v., viii., ix., x., xi., xv., xvi., xvii., xix., xxiv.) have gaelic originals; three (vii., xiii., xxv.) are from the welsh; one (xxii.) from the now extinct cornish; one an adaptation of an english poem founded on a welsh tradition (xxi., "gellert"); and the remaining nine are what may be termed anglo-irish. regarding their diffusion among the celts, twelve are both irish and scotch (iv., v., vi., ix., x., xiv.-xvii., xix., xx., xxiv.); one (xxv.) is common to irish and welsh; and one (xxii.) to irish and cornish; seven are found only among the celts in ireland (i.-iii., xii., xviii., xxii., xxvi.); two (viii., xi.) among the scotch; and three (vii., xiii., xxi) among the welsh. finally, so far as we can ascertain their origin, four (v., xvi., xxi., xxii.) are from the east; five (vi., x., xiv., xx., xxv.) are european drolls; three of the romantic tales seem to have been imported (vii., ix., xix.); while three others are possibly celtic exportations to the continent (xv., xvii., xxiv.), though the last may have previously come thence; the remaining eleven are, as far as known, original to celtic lands. somewhat the same result would come out, i believe, as the analysis of any representative collection of folk-tales of any european district. i. connla and the fairy maiden. _source._--from the old irish "echtra condla chaim maic cuind chetchathaig" of the _leabhar na h-uidhre_ ("book of the dun cow"), which must have been written before , when its scribe maelmori ("servant of mary") was murdered. the original is given by windisch in his _irish grammar_. p. , also in the _trans. kilkenny archæol. soc._ for . a fragment occurs in a rawlinson ms., described by dr. w. stokes, _tripartite life_, p. xxxvi. i have used the translation of prof. zimmer in his _keltische beitrage_, ii. (_zeits. f. deutsches altertum_, bd. xxxiii., - ). dr. joyce has a somewhat florid version in his _old celtic romances_, from which i have borrowed a touch or two. i have neither extenuated nor added aught but the last sentence of the fairy maiden's last speech. part of the original is in metrical form, so that the whole is of the _cante-fable_ species, which i believe to be the original form of the folk-tale (_cf. eng. fairy tales_, notes, p. , and _infra_, p. ). _parallels._--prof. zimmer's paper contains three other accounts of the _terra repromissionis_ in the irish sagas, one of them being the similar adventure of cormac, the nephew of connla, or condla ruad as he should be called. the fairy apple of gold occurs in cormac mac art's visit to the brug of manannan (nutt's _holy grail_, ). _remarks._--conn, the hundred-fighter, had the head-kingship of ireland - a. d., according to the _annals of the four masters_, i., . on the day of his birth the five great roads from tara to all parts of ireland were completed: one of them from dublin is still used. connaught is said to have been named after him, but this is scarcely consonant with joyce's identification with ptolemy's _nagnatai_ (_irish local names_, i., ). but there can be little doubt of conn's existence as a powerful ruler in ireland in the second century. the historic existence of connla seems also to be authenticated by the reference to him as conly, the eldest son of conn, in the annals of clonmacnoise. as conn was succeeded by his third son, art enear, connla was either slain or disappeared during his father's lifetime. under these circumstances it is not unlikely that our legend grew up within the century after conn--_i. e._, during the latter half of the second century. as regards the present form of it, prof. zimmer (_l. c._ - ) places it in the seventh century. it has clearly been touched up by a christian hand, who introduced the reference to the day of judgment and to the waning power of the druids. but nothing turns upon this interpolation, so that it is likely that even the present form of the legend is pre-christian--_i. e._, for ireland, pre-patrician, before the fifth century. the tale of connla is thus the earliest fairy tale of modern europe. besides this interest it contains an early account of one of the most characteristic celtic conceptions, that of the earthly paradise, the isle of youth, _tir na n-og_. this has impressed itself on the european imagination; in the arthuriad it is represented by the vale of avalon, and as represented in the various celtic visions of the future life, it forms one of the main sources of dante's _divina commedia_. it is possible, too, i think, that the homeric hesperides and the fortunate isles of the ancients had a celtic origin (as is well known, the early place-names of europe are predominantly celtic). i have found, i believe, a reference to the conception in one of the earliest passages in the classics dealing with the druids. lucan, in his _pharsalia_ (i, - ), addresses them in these high terms of reverence: et vos barbaricos ritus, moremque sinistrum, sacrorum, druidæ, positis repetistis ab armis, solis nôsse deos et coeli numera vobis aut solis nescire datum; nemora alta remotis incolitis lucis. vobis auctoribus umbræ, non tacitas erebi sedes, ditisque profundi, pallida regna petunt: _regit idem spiritus artus_ _orbe alio_: longæ, canitis si cognita, vitæ mors media est. the passage certainly seems to me to imply a different conception from the ordinary classical views of the life after death, the dark and dismal plains of erebus peopled with ghosts; and the passage i have italicised would chime in well with the conception of a continuance of youth (_idem spiritus_) in tir na n-og (_orbe alio_). one of the most pathetic, beautiful, and typical scenes in irish legend is the return of ossian from tir na n-og, and his interview with st. patrick. the old faith and the new, the old order of things and that which replaced it, meet in two of the most characteristic products of the irish imagination (for the patrick of legend is as much a legendary figure as oisin himself). ossian had gone away to tir na n-og with the fairy niamh under very much of the same circumstances as condla ruad; time flies in the land of eternal youth, and when ossian returns, after a year, as he thinks, more than three centuries had passed, and st. patrick had just succeeded in introducing the new faith. the contrast of past and present has never been more vividly or beautifully represented. ii. guleesh. _source._--from dr. douglas hyde's _beside the fire_, - , where it is a translation from the same author's _leabhar sgeulaighteachta_. dr. hyde got it from one shamus o'hart, a game-keeper of french-park. one is curious to know how far the very beautiful landscapes in the story are due to dr. hyde, who confesses to have only taken notes. i have omitted a journey to rome, paralleled, as mr. nutt has pointed out, by the similar one of michael scott (_waifs and strays_, i., ), and not bearing on the main lines of the story. i have also dropped a part of guleesh's name; in the original he is "guleesh na guss dhu," guleesh of the black feet, because he never washed them; nothing turns on this in the present form of the story, but one cannot but suspect it was of importance in the original form. _parallels._--dr. hyde refers to two short stories, "midnight ride" (to rome) and "stolen bride," in lady wilde's _ancient legends_. but the closest parallel is given by miss maclintock's donegal tale of "jamie freel and the young lady," reprinted in mr. yeats' _irish folk and fairy tales_, - . in the _hibernian tales_, "mann o' malaghan and the fairies," as reported by thackeray in the _irish sketch-book_, c., xvi., begins like "guleesh." iii. field of boliauns. _source._--t. crofton croker's _fairy legends of the south of ireland_, ed. wright, pp. - . in the original the gnome is a cluricaune, but as a friend of mr. batten's has recently heard the tale told of a lepracaun, i have adopted the better known title. _remarks._--_lepracaun_ is from the irish _leith bhrogan_, the one shoemaker (_cf._ brogue), according to dr. hyde. he is generally seen (and to this day, too) working at a single shoe, _cf._ croker's story, "little shoe," _l. c._ pp. - . according to a writer in the _revue celtique_, i., , the true etymology is _luchor pan_, "little man." dr. joyce also gives the same etymology in _irish names and places_, i., , where he mentions several places named after them. iv. horned women. _source._--lady wilde's _ancient legends_, the first story. _parallels._--a similar version was given by mr. d. fitzgerald in the _revue celtique_, iv., , but without the significant and impressive horns. he refers to _cornhill_ for february, , and to campbell's "sauntraigh," no. xxii., _pop. tales_, ii., - , in which a "woman of peace" (a fairy) borrows a woman's kettle and returns it with flesh in it, but at last the woman refuses, and is persecuted by the fairy. i fail to see much analogy. a much closer one is in campbell, ii., p. , where fairies are got rid of by shouting, "dunveilg is on fire." the familiar "lady-bird, lady-bird, fly away home, your house is on fire and your children at home," will occur to english minds. another version in kennedy's _legendary fictions_, p. , "black stairs on fire." _remarks._--slievenamon is a famous fairy palace in tipperary according to dr. joyce, _l. c._ i., . it was the hill on which finn stood when he gave himself as the prize to the irish maiden who should run up it quickest. grainne won him with dire consequences, as all the world knows or ought to know (kennedy, _legend fict._, , "how fion selected a wife"). v. conall yellowclaw. _source._--campbell, _pop. tales of west highlands_, no. v. pp. - . "conall cra bhuidhe." i have softened the third episode, which is somewhat too ghastly in the original. i have translated "cra bhuide" yellowclaw on the strength of campbell's etymology, _l. c._ p. . _parallels._--campbell's vi. and vii. are two variants showing how wide-spread the story is in gaelic scotland. it occurs in ireland where it has been printed in the chapbook, _hibernian tales_, as the "black thief and the knight of the glen," the black thief being conall, and the knight corresponding to the king of lochlan (it is given in mr. lang's _red fairy book_). here it attracted the notice of thackeray, who gives a good abstract of it in his _irish sketch-book_, ch. xvi. he thinks it "worthy of the arabian nights, as wild and odd as an eastern tale." "that fantastic way of bearing testimony to the previous tale by producing an old woman who says the tale is not only true, but who was the very old woman who lived in the giant's castle is almost" (why "almost," mr. thackeray?) "a stroke of genius." the incident of the giant's breath occurs in the story of koisha kayn, macinnes's _tales_, p. , as well as the polyphemus one, _ibid._ . one-eyed giants are frequent in celtic folk-tales (_e. g._, in _the pursuit of diarmaid_ and in the _mabinogi_ of owen). _remarks._--thackeray's reference to the "arabian nights" is especially apt, as the tale of conall is a framework story like _the nights_, the three stories told by conall being framed, as it were, in a fourth which is nominally the real story. this method employed by the indian story-tellers and from them adopted by boccaccio and thence into all european literatures (chaucer, queen margaret, &c.), is generally thought to be peculiar to the east, and to be ultimately derived from the jatakas or birth stories of the buddha who tells his adventures in former incarnations. here we find it in celtdom, and it occurs also in "the story-teller at fault" in this collection, and the story of _koisha kayn_ in macinnes's _argyllshire tales_, a variant of which, collected but not published by campbell, has no less than nineteen tales enclosed in a framework. the question is whether the method was adopted independently in ireland, or was due to foreign influences. confining ourselves to "conall yellowclaw," it seems not unlikely that the whole story is an importation. for the second episode is clearly the story of polyphemus from the odyssey which was known in ireland perhaps as early as the tenth century (see prof. k. meyer's edition of _merugud uilix maic leirtis_, pref. p. xii). it also crept into the voyages of sindbad in the _arabian nights_. and as told in the highlands it bears comparison even with the homeric version. as mr. nutt remarks (_celt. mag._ xii.) the address of the giant to the buck is as effective as that of polyphemus to his ram. the narrator, james wilson, was a blind man who would naturally feel the pathos of the address; "it comes from the heart of the narrator;" says campbell (_l. c._, ), "it is the ornament which his mind hangs on the frame of the story." vi. hudden and dudden. _source._--from oral tradition, by the late d. w. logie, taken down by mr. alfred nutt. _parallels._--lover has a tale, "little fairly," obviously derived from this folk-tale; and there is another very similar, "darby darly." another version of our tale is given under the title "donald and his neighbours," in the chapbook _hibernian tales_, whence it was reprinted by thackeray in his _irish sketch-book_, c., xvi. this has the incident of the "accidental matricide," on which see prof. r. köhler on gonzenbach _sicil. märchen_, ii., . no less than four tales of campbell are of this type (_pop. tales_, ii., - ). m. cosquin in his _contes populaires de lorraine_, the storehouse of "storiology," has elaborate excursuses in this class of tales attached to his nos. x. and xx. mr. clouston discusses it also in his _pop. tales_, ii. - . both these writers are inclined to trace the chief incidents to india. it is to be observed that one of the earliest popular drolls in europe, _unibos_, a latin poem of the eleventh, and perhaps the tenth, century, has the main outlines of the story, the fraudulent sale of worthless objects and the escape from the sack trick. the same story occurs in straparola, the european earliest collection of folk-tales in the sixteenth century. on the other hand, the gold sticking to the scales is familiar to us in _ali baba_. (_cf._ cosquin, _l. c._, i., - , ). _remarks._--it is indeed curious to find, as m. cosquin points out, a cunning fellow tied in a sack getting out by crying, "i won't marry the princess," in countries so far apart as ireland, sicily (gonzenbach, no. ), afghanistan (thorburn, _bannu_, p. ), and jamaica (_folk-lore record_, iii., ). it is indeed impossible to think these are disconnected, and for drolls of this kind a good case has been made out for the borrowing hypotheses by m. cosquin and mr. clouston. who borrowed from whom is another and more difficult question which has to be judged on its merits in each individual case. this is a type of celtic folk-tales which are european in spread, have analogies with the east, and can only be said to be celtic by adoption and by colouring. they form a distinct section of the tales told by the celts, and must be represented in any characteristic selection. other examples are xi., xv., xx., and perhaps xxii. vii. shepherd of myddvai. _source._--preface to the edition of "the physicians of myddvai;" their prescription-book, from the red book of hergest, published by the welsh ms. society in . the legend is not given in the red book, but from oral tradition by mr. w. rees, p. xxi. as this is the first of the welsh tales in this book it may be as well to give the reader such guidance as i can afford him on the intricacies of welsh pronunciation, especially with regard to the mysterious _w_'s and _y_'s of welsh orthography. for _w_ substitute double _o_, as in "_fool_" and for _y_, the short _u_ in b_u_t, and as near approach to cymric speech will be reached as is possible for the outlander. it may be added that double _d_ equals _th_, and double _l_ is something like _fl_, as shakespeare knew in calling his welsh soldier fluellen (llewelyn). thus "meddygon myddvai" would be _anglicè_ "methugon muthvai." _parallels._--other versions of the legend of the van pool are given in _cambro-briton_, ii., ; w. sikes, _british goblins_, p. . mr. e. sidney hartland has discussed these and others in a set of papers contributed to the first volume of _the archæological review_ (now incorporated into _folk-lore_), the substance of which is now given in his _science of fairy tales_, - . (see also the references given in _revue celtique_, iv., and ). mr. hartland gives there an ecumenical collection of parallels to the several incidents that go to make up our story--( ) the bride-capture of the swan-maiden, ( ) the recognition of the bride, ( ) the taboo against causeless blows, ( ) doomed to be broken, and ( ) disappearance of the swan-maiden, with ( ) her return as guardian spirit to her descendants. in each case mr. hartland gives what he considers to be the most primitive form of the incident. with reference to our present tale, he comes to the conclusion, if i understand him aright, that the lake-maiden was once regarded as a local divinity. the physicians of myddvai were historic personages, renowned for their medical skill for some six centuries, till the race died out with john jones, _fl._ . to explain their skill and uncanny knowledge of herbs, the folk traced them to a supernatural ancestress, who taught them their craft in a place still called pant-y-meddygon ("doctors' dingle"). their medical knowledge did not require any such remarkable origin, as mr. hartland has shown in a paper "on welsh folk-medicine," contributed to _y cymmrodor_, vol. xii. on the other hand, the swan-maiden type of story is wide-spread through the old world. mr. morris's "land east of the moon and west of the sun," in _the earthly paradise_, is taken from the norse version. parallels are accumulated by the grimms, ii., ; köhler on gonzenbach, ii., ; or blade, ; stokes's _indian fairy tales_, , ; and messrs. jones and koopf, _magyar folk-tales_, - . it remains to be proved that one of these versions did not travel to wales, and become there localised. we shall see other instances of such localisation or specialisation of general legends. viii. the sprightly tailor. _source._--_notes and queries_ for december , , to which it was communicated by "cuthbert bede," the author of _verdant green_, who collected it in cantyre. _parallels._--miss dempster gives the same story in her sutherland collection, no. vii. (referred to by campbell in his gaelic list, at end of vol. iv.); mrs. john faed, i am informed by a friend, knows the gaelic version, as told by her nurse in her youth. chambers's "strange visitor," _pop. rhymes of scotland_, , of which i gave an anglicised version in my _english fairy tales_, no. xxxii., is clearly a variant. _remarks._--the macdonald of saddell castle was a very great man indeed. once, when dining with the lord-lieutenant, an apology was made to him for placing him so far away from the head of the table. "where the macdonald sits," was the proud response, "there is the head of the table." ix. deirdre. _source._--_celtic magazine_, xiii., p. , _seq._ i have abridged somewhat, made the sons of fergus all faithful instead of two traitors, and omitted an incident in the house of the wild men called here "strangers." the original gaelic was given in the _transactions of the inverness gaelic society_ for , p. , _seq._, by mr. carmichael. i have inserted deirdre's "lament" from the _book of leinster_. _parallels._--this is one of the three most sorrowful tales of erin, (the other two, _children of lir_ and _children of tureen_, are given in dr. joyce's _old celtic romances_), and is a specimen of the old heroic sagas of elopement, a list of which is given in the _book of leinster_. the "outcast child" is a frequent episode in folk and hero-tales: an instance occurs in my _english fairy tales_, no. xxxv., and prof. köhler gives many others in _archiv f. slav. philologie_, i., . mr. nutt adds tenth century celtic parallels in _folk-lore_, vol. ii. the wooing of hero by heroine is a characteristic celtic touch. see "connla" here, and other examples given by mr. nutt in his notes to macinnes's _tales_. the trees growing from the lovers' graves occurs in the english ballad of _lord lovel_ and has been studied in _mélusine_. _remarks._--the "story of deirdre" is a remarkable instance of the tenacity of oral tradition among the celts. it has been preserved in no less than five versions (or six, including macpherson's "darthula") ranging from the twelfth to the nineteenth century. the earliest is in the twelfth century, _book of leinster_, to be dated about (edited in facsimile under the auspices of the royal irish academy, i., , _seq._). then comes a fifteenth century version, edited and translated by dr. stokes in windisch's _irische texte_ ii., ii., , _seq._, "death of the sons of uisnech." keating in his _history of ireland_ gave another version in the seventeenth century. the dublin gaelic society published an eighteenth century version in their _transactions_ for . and lastly we have the version before us, collected only a few years ago, yet agreeing in all essential details with the version of the _book of leinster_. such a record is unique in the history of oral tradition, outside ireland, where, however, it is quite a customary experience in the study of the finn-saga. it is now recognised that macpherson had, or could have had, ample material for his _rechauffé_ of the finn or "fingal" saga. his "darthula" is a similar cobbling of our present story. i leave to celtic specialists the task of settling the exact relations of these various texts. i content myself with pointing out the fact that in these latter days of a seemingly prosaic century in these british isles there has been collected from the lips of the folk a heroic story like this of "deirdre," full of romantic incidents, told with tender feeling and considerable literary skill. no other country in europe, except perhaps russia, could provide a parallel to this living on of romance among the common folk. surely it is a bounden duty of those who are in a position to put on record any such utterances of the folk-imagination of the celts before it is too late. x. munachar and manachar. _source._--i have combined the irish version given by dr. hyde in his _leabhar sgeul._, and translated by him from mr. yeats's _irish folk and fairy tales_, and the scotch version given in gaelic and english by campbell, no. viii. _parallels._--two english versions are given in my _eng. fairy tales_, no. iv., "the old woman and her pig," and xxxiv., "the cat and the mouse," where see notes for other variants in these isles. m. cosquin, in his notes to no. xxxiv., of his _contes de lorraine_, t. ii., pp. - , has drawn attention to an astonishing number of parallels scattered through all europe and the east (_cf._, too, crane, _ital. pop. tales_, notes. - ). one of the earliest allusions to the jingle is in _don quixote_, pt. , c. xvi.: "y asi como suele decirse _el gato al rato, el rato á la cuerda, la cuerda al palo_, daba el arriero á sancho, sancho á la moza, la moza a él, el ventero á la moza." as i have pointed out, it is used to this day by bengali women at the end of each folk-tale they recite (l. b. day, _folk-tales of bengal_, pref.). _remarks._--two ingenious suggestions have been made as to the origin of this curious jingle, both connecting it with religious ceremonies: ( ) something very similar occurs in chaldaic at the end of the jewish _hagada_, or domestic ritual for the passover night. it has, however, been shown that this does not occur in early mss. or editions, and was only added at the end to amuse the children after the service, and was therefore only a translation or adaptation of a current german form of the jingle; ( ) m. basset, in the _revue des traditions populaires_, , t. v., p. , has suggested that it is a survival of the old greek custom at the sacrifice of the bouphonia for the priest to contend that _he_ had not slain the sacred beast, the axe declares that the handle did it, the handle transfers the guilt further, and so on. this is ingenious, but fails to give any reasonable account of the diffusion of the jingle in countries which have had no historic connection with classical greece. xi. gold-tree and silver-tree.[ ] _source._--_celtic magazine_, xiii. - , gaelic and english from mr. kenneth macleod. _parallels._--mr. macleod heard another version in which "gold-tree" (anonymous in this variant) is bewitched to kill her father's horse, dog, and cock. abroad it is the grimms' _schneewitchen_ (no. ), for the continental variants of which see köhler on gonzenbach, _sicil. märchen_, nos. - , grimm's notes on , and crane _ital. pop. tales_, . no other version is known in the british isles. [footnote : since the first issue mr. nutt has made a remarkable discovery with reference to this tale, which connects it with marie de france's _lai d'eliduc_ (c. ), and renders it probable that the tale is originally celtic. mr. nutt thinks that the german version may be derived from england.] _remarks._--it is unlikely, i should say impossible, that this tale, with the incident of the dormant heroine, should have arisen independently in the highlands: it is most likely an importation from abroad. yet in it occurs a most "primitive" incident, the bigamous household of the hero: this is glossed over in mr. macleod's other variant. on the "survival" method of investigation this would possibly be used as evidence for polygamy in the highlands. yet if, as is probable, the story came from abroad, this trait may have come with it, and only implies polygamy in the original home of the tale. xii. king o'toole and his goose. _source._--s. lover's _stories and legends of the irish peasantry_. _remarks._--this is a moral apologue on the benefits of keeping your word. yet it is told with such humour and vigour, that the moral glides insensibly into the heart. xiii. the wooing of olwen. _source._--the _mabinogi_ of kilhwch and olwen from the translation of lady guest, abridged. _parallels._--prof. rhys, _hibbert lectures_, p. , considers that our tale is paralleled by cuchulain's "wooing of emer," a translation of which by prof. k. meyer appeared in the _archæological review_, vol. i. i fail to see much analogy. on the other hand in his _arthurian legend_, p. , he rightly compares the tasks set by yspythadon to those set to jason. they are indeed of the familiar type of the bride wager (on which see grimm-hunt, i., ). the incident of the three animals, old, older, and oldest, has a remarkable resemblance to the _tettira jataka_ (ed. fausbôll, no. , transl. rhys-davids, i., p. _seq._) in which the partridge, monkey, and elephant dispute as to their relative age, and the partridge turns out to have voided the seed of the banyan-tree under which they were sheltered, whereas the elephant only knew it when a mere bush, and the monkey had nibbled the topmost shoots. this apologue got to england at the end of the twelfth century as the sixty-ninth fable, "wolf, fox, and dove," of a rhymed prose collection of "fox fables" (_mishle shu'alim_), of an oxford jew, berachyah nakdan, known in the records as "benedict le puncteur" (see my _fables of Æsop_, i., p. ). similar incidents occur in "jack and his snuff-box" in my _english fairy tales_, and in dr. hyde's "well of d'yerree-in-dowan." the skilled companions of kulhwych are common in european folk-tales (_cf._ cosquin, i., - ), and especially among the celts (see mr. nutt's note in macinnes's _tales_, - ), among whom they occur very early, but not so early as lynceus and the other skilled comrades of the argonauts. _remarks._--the hunting of the boar trwyth can be traced back in welsh tradition at least as early as the ninth century. for it is referred to in the following passage of nennius's _historia britonum_, ed. stevenson, p. , "est aliud miraculum in regione quæ dicitur buelt [builth, co. brecon] est ibi cumulus lapidum et unus lapis super-positus super congestum cum vestigia canis in eo. quando venatus est porcum troynt [_var. lec._ troit] impressit cabal, qui erat canis arthuri militis, vestigium in lapide et arthur postea congregavit congestum lapidum sub lapide in quo erat vestigium canis sui et vocatur carn cabal." curiously enough there is still a mountain called carn cabal in the district of builth, south of rhayader gwy in breconshire. still more curiously a friend of lady guest's found on this a cairn with a stone two feet long by one foot wide in which there was an indentation in. x in. x in. which could easily have been mistaken for a paw-print of a dog, as may be seen from the engraving given of it on opposite page (_mabinogion_, ed. , p. ). the stone and the legend are thus at least one thousand years old. "there stands the stone to tell if i lie." according to prof. rhys (_hibbert lect._ - ) the whole story is a mythological one, kulhwych's mother being the dawn, the clover blossoms that grow under olwen's feet being comparable to the roses that sprang up where aphrodite had trod, and yspyddadon being the incarnation of the sacred hawthorn. mabon, again (_l. c._ pp. , - ), is the apollo maponus discovered in latin inscriptions at ainstable in cumberland and elsewhere (hübner, _corp. insc. lat. brit._ nos. , , ). granting all this, there is nothing to show any mythological significance in the tale, though there may have been in the names of the _dramatis personæ_. i observe from the proceedings of the recent eisteddfod that the bardic name of mr. w. abraham, m.p., is "mabon." it scarcely follows that mr. abraham is in receipt of divine honours nowadays. [illustration:] xiv. jack and his comrades. _source._--kennedy's _legendary fictions of the irish celts_. _parallels._--this is the fullest and most dramatic version i know of the grimms' "town musicians of bremen" (no. ). i have given an english (american) version in my _english fairy tales_, no. , in the notes to which would be found references to other versions known in the british isles (_e. g._, campbell, no. ) and abroad. _cf._ remarks on no. vi. xv. shee an gannon and gruagach gaire. _source._--curtin, _myths and folk-lore of ireland_, p. _seq._ i have shortened the earlier part of the tale, and introduced into the latter a few touches from campbell's story of "fionn's enchantment," in _revue celtique_, t. i., _seq._ _parallels._--the early part is similar to the beginning of "the sea-maiden" (no. xvii., which see). the latter part is practically the same as the story of "fionn's enchantment," just referred to. it also occurs in macinnes's _tales_, no. iii., "the king of albainn" (see mr. nutt's notes, ). the head-crowned spikes are celtic, _cf._ mr. nutt's notes (macinnes's _tales_, ). _remarks._--here again we meet the question whether the folk-tale precedes the hero-tale about finn or was derived from it, and again the probability seems that our story has the priority as a folk-tale, and was afterwards applied to the national hero, finn. this is confirmed by the fact that a thirteenth century french romance, _conte du graal_, has much the same incidents, and was probably derived from a similar folk-tale of the celts. indeed, mr. nutt is inclined to think that the original form of our story (which contains a mysterious healing vessel) is the germ out of which the legend of the holy grail was evolved (see his _studies in the holy grail_, p. _seq._). xvi. the story-teller at fault. _source._--griffin's _tales from a jury-room_, combined with campbell, no. xvii. _c_, "the slim swarthy champion." _parallels._--campbell gives another variant, _l. c._ i., . dr. hyde has an irish version of campbell's tale written down in , from which he gives the incident of the air-ladder (which i have had to euphemise in my version) in his _beside the fireside_, p. , and other passages in his preface. the most remarkable parallel to this incident, however, is afforded by the feats of indian jugglers reported briefly by marco polo, and illustrated with his usual wealth of learning by the late sir henry yule, in his edition, vol. i., p. _seq._ the accompanying illustration (reduced from yule) will tell its own tale: it is taken from the dutch account of the travels of an english sailor, e. melton. _zeldzaame reizen_, , p. . it tells the tale in five acts, all included in one sketch. another instance quoted by yule is still more parallel, so to speak. the twenty-third trick performed by some conjurors before the emperor jahangueir (_memoirs_, p. ) is thus described: "they produced a chain of cubits in length, and in my presence threw one end of it toward the sky, where it remained as if fastened to something in the air. a dog was then brought forward, and being placed at the lower end of the chain, immediately ran up, and, reaching the other end, immediately disappeared in the air. in the same manner a hog, a panther, a lion, and a tiger were successively sent up the chain." it has been suggested that the conjurors hypnotise the spectators, and make them believe they see these things. this is practically the suggestion of a wise mohammedan, who is quoted by yule as saying, "_wallah!_ 'tis my opinion there has been neither going up nor coming down; 'tis all hocus-pocus," hocus-pocus being presumably the mohammedan term for hypnotism. [illustration:] _remarks._--dr. hyde (_l. c._ pref. xxix.) thinks our tale cannot be older than , because of a reference to one o'connor sligo which occurs in all its variants; it is, however, omitted in our somewhat abridged version. mr. nutt (_ap._ campbell, _the fians_, introd. xix.) thinks that this does not prevent a still earlier version having existed. i should have thought that the existence of so distinctly eastern a trick in the tale, and the fact that it is a framework story (another eastern characteristic), would imply that it is a rather late importation, with local allusions supperadded (_cf._ notes on "conall yellowclaw," no. v.). the passages in verse from pp. , , and the description of the beggarman, pp. , , are instances of a curious characteristic of gaelic folk-tales called "runs." collections of conventional epithets are used over and over again to describe the same incident, the beaching of a boat, sea-faring, travelling and the like, are inserted in different tales. these "runs" are often similar in both the irish and the scotch form of the same tale or of the same incident. the volumes of _waifs and strays_ contain numerous examples of these "runs," which have been indexed in each volume. these "runs" are another confirmation of my view that the original form of the folk-tale was that of the _cante-fable_ (see note on "connla" and on "childe rowland" in _english fairy tales_). xvii. sea-maiden. _source._--campbell, _pop. tales_, no. . i have omitted the births of the animal comrades and transposed the carlin to the middle of the tale. mr. batten has considerately idealised the sea-maiden in his frontispiece. when she restores the husband to the wife in one of the variants, she brings him out of her mouth! "so the sea-maiden put up his head (_who do you mean? out of her mouth to be sure. she had swallowed him_)." _parallels._--the early part of the story occurs in no. xv., "shee an gannon," and the last part in no. xix., "fair, brown, and trembling" (both from curtin), campbell's no. . "the young king" is much like it; also macinnes's no. iv., "herding of cruachan" and no. viii., "lod the farmer's son." the third of mr. britten's irish folk-tales in the _folk-lore journal_ is a sea-maiden story. the story is obviously a favourite one among the celts. yet its main incidents occur with frequency in continental folk-tales. prof. köhler has collected a number in his notes on campbell's tales in _orient und occident_, bnd. ii., - . the trial of the sword occurs in the saga of sigurd, yet it is also frequent in celtic saga and folk-tales (see mr. nutt's note, macinnes's _tales_, , and add curtin, ). the hideous carlin and her three giant sons is also common form in celtic. the external soul of the sea-maiden carried about in an egg, in a trout, in a hoodie, in a hind, is a remarkable instance of a peculiarly savage conception which has been studied by major temple, _wide-awake stories_, - ; by mr. e. clodd, in the "philosophy of punchkin," in _folk-lore journal_, vol. ii., and by mr. frazer in his _golden bough_, vol. ii. _remarks._--as both prof. rhys (_hibbert lect._, ) and mr. nutt (macinnes's _tales_, ) have pointed out, practically the same story (that of perseus and andromeda) is told of the ultonian hero, cuchulain, in the _wooing of emer_, a tale which occurs in the book of leinster, a ms. of the twelfth century, and was probably copied from one of the eighth. unfortunately, it is not complete, and the sea-maiden incident is only to be found in a british museum ms. of about . in this, cuchulain finds that the daughter of ruad is to be given as a tribute to the fomori, who, according to prof. rhys, _folk-lore_, ii., , have something of the night_mare_ about their etymology. cuchulain fights _three_ of them successively, has his wounds bound up by a strip of the maiden's garments, and then departs. thereafter many boasted of having slain the fomori, but the maiden believed them not till at last by a stratagem she recognises cuchulain. i may add to this that in mr. curtin's _myths_, , the threefold trial of the sword is told of cuchulain. this would seem to trace our story back to the seventh or eighth century and certainly to the thirteenth. if so, it is likely enough that it spread from ireland through europe with the irish missions (for the wide extent of which see map in mrs. bryant's _celtic ireland_). the very letters that have spread through all europe except russia, are to be traced to the script of these irish monks; why not certain folk-tales? there is a further question whether the story was originally told of cuchulain as a hero-tale and then became departicularised as a folk-tale, or was the process _vice versâ_. certainly in the form in which it appears in the _tochmarc emer_ it is not complete, so that here, as elsewhere, we seem to have an instance of a folk-tale applied to a well-known heroic name, and becoming a hero-tale or saga. xviii. legend of knockmany. _source._--w. carleton, _traits and stories of the irish peasantry_. _parallels._--kennedy's "fion maccuil and the scotch giant," _legend fict._, - . _remarks._--though the venerable name of finn and cucullin (cuchulain) are attached to the heroes of this story, this is probably only to give an extrinsic interest to it. the two heroes could not have come together in any early form of their sagas since cuchulain's reputed date is of the first, finn's of the third century a. d. (_c. f._ however, macdougall's _tales_, notes, ). besides, the grotesque form of the legend is enough to remove it from the region of the hero-tale. on the other hand, there is a distinct reference to finn's wisdom-tooth, which presaged the future to him (on this see _revue celtique_, v. , joyce, _old celt. rom._, - , and macdougall, _l. c._ ). cucullin's power-finger is another instance of the life-index or external soul, on which see remarks on sea-maiden. mr. nutt informs me that parodies of the irish sagas occur as early as the sixteenth century, and the present tale may be regarded as a specimen. xix. fair, brown, and trembling. _source._--curtin, _myths, &c., of ireland_, _seq._ _parallels._--the latter half resembles the second part of the sea-maiden (no. xvii.), which see. the earlier portion is a cinderella tale (on which see the late mr. ralston's article in _nineteenth century_, nov., , and mr. lang's treatment in his perrault). miss roalfe cox is about to publish for the folk-lore society a whole volume of variants of the cinderella group of stories, which are remarkably well represented in these isles, nearly a dozen different versions being known in england, ireland, and scotland. xx. jack and his master. _source._--kennedy, _fireside stories of ireland_, - , "shan an omadhan and his master." _parallels._--it occurs also in campbell, no. xlv., "mac a rusgaich." it is a european droll, the wide occurrence of which--"the loss of temper bet" i should call it--is bibliographised by m. cosquin, _l. c._ ii., (_cf._ notes on no. vi.). xxi. beth gellert. _source._--i have paraphrased the well-known poem of hon. w. r. spencer, "beth gêlert, or the grave of the greyhound," first printed privately as a broadsheet in when it was composed ("august , , dolymalynllyn" is the colophon). it was published in spencer's _poems_, , pp. - . these dates, it will be seen, are of importance. spencer states in a note: "the story of this ballad is traditionary in a village at the foot of snowdon where llewellyn the great had a house. the greyhound named gêlert was given him by his father-in-law, king john, in the year , and the place to this day is called beth-gêlert, or the grave of gêlert." as a matter of fact, no trace of the tradition in connection with bedd gellert can be found before spencer's time. it is not mentioned in leland's _itinerary_, ed. hearne, v., p. ("beth kellarth"), in pennant's _tour_ ( ), ii., , or in bingley's _tour in wales_ ( ). borrow in his _wild wales_, p. , gives the legend, but does not profess to derive it from local tradition. _parallels._--the only parallel in celtdom is that noticed by croker in his third volume, the legend of partholan who killed his wife's greyhound from jealousy: this is found sculptured in stone at ap brune, co. limerick. as is well known, and has been elaborately discussed by mr. baring-gould (_curious myths of the middle ages_, p. _seq._), and mr. w. a. clouston (_popular tales and fictions_, ii., _seq._), the story of the man who rashly slew the dog (ichneumon, weasel, &c.) that had saved his babe from death, is one of those which have spread from east to west. it is indeed, as mr. clouston points out, still current in india, the land of its birth. there is little doubt that it is originally buddhistic: the late prof. s. beal gave the earliest known version from the chinese translation of the _vinaya pitaka_ in the _academy_ of nov. , . the conception of an animal sacrificing itself for the sake of others is peculiarly buddhistic; the "hare in the moon" is an apotheosis of such a piece of self sacrifice on the part of buddha (_sasa jataka_). there are two forms that have reached the west, the first being that of an animal saving men at the cost of its own life. i pointed out an early instance of this quoted by a rabbi of the second century, in my _fables of Æsop_, i., . this concludes with a strangely close parallel to gellert; "they raised a cairn over his grave, and the place is still called the dog's grave." the _culex_ attributed to virgil seems to be another variant of this. the second form of the legend is always told as a moral apologue against precipitate action, and originally occurred in _the fables of bidpai_ in its hundred and one forms, all founded on buddhistic originals (_cf._ benfey, _pantschatantra_, einleitung, § ).[ ] thence, according to benfey, it was inserted in the _book of sindibad_, another collection of oriental apologues framed on what may be called the mrs. potiphar formula. this came to europe with the crusades, and is known in its western versions as the _seven sages of rome_. the gellert story occurs in all the oriental and occidental versions; _e. g._, it is the first master's story in wynkyn de worde's (ed. g. l. gomme, for the villon society.) from the _seven sages_ it was taken into the particular branch of the _gesta romanorum_ current in england and known as the english _gesta_, where it occurs as c. xxxii, "story of folliculus." we have thus traced it to england whence it passed to wales, where i have discovered it as the second apologue of the "fables of cattwg the wise," in the iolo ms. published by the welsh ms. society, p. , "the man who killed his greyhound." (these fables, mr. nutt informs me, are a pseudonymous production probably of the sixteenth century.) this concludes the literary route of the legend of gellert from india to wales: buddhistic _vinaya pitaka_--_fables of bidpai_;--oriental _sindibad_;--occidental _seven sages of rome_;--"english" (latin), _gesta romanorum_;--welsh, _fables of cattwg_. [footnote : it occurs in the same chapter as the story of la perrette, which has been traced, after benfey, by prof. m. müller in his "migration of fables." (_sel. essays_, i., - ); exactly the same history applies to gellert.] [illustration:] _remarks._--we have still to connect the legend with llewelyn and with bedd gelert. but first it may be desirable to point out why it is necessary to assume that the legend is a legend and not a fact. the saving of an infant's life by a dog, and the mistaken slaughter of the dog, are not such an improbable combination as to make it impossible that the same event occurred in many places. but what is impossible, in my opinion, is that such an event should have independently been used in different places as the typical instance of, and warning against, rash action. that the gellert legend, before it was localised, was used as a moral apologue in wales is shown by the fact that it occurs among the fables of cattwg, which are all of that character. it was also utilised as a proverb: "_yr wy'n edivaru cymmaint a'r gwr a laddodd ei vilgi_ ("i repent as much as the man who slew his greyhound"). the fable indeed, from this point of view, seems greatly to have attracted the welsh mind, perhaps as of especial value to a proverbially impetuous temperament. croker (_fairy legends of ireland_, vol. iii., p. ) points out several places where the legend seems to have been localised in place-names--two places, called "gwal y vilast" ("greyhound's couch"), in carmathen and glamorganshire; "llech y asp" ("dog's stone"), in cardigan, and another place named in welsh "spring of the greyhound's stone." mr. baring-gould mentions that the legend is told of an ordinary tomb-stone, with a knight and a greyhound, in abergavenny church; while the fable of cattwg is told of a man in abergarwan. so wide-spread and well-known was the legend that it was in richard iii's time adopted as the national crest. in the warwick roll, at the herald's office, after giving separate crests for england, scotland, and ireland, that for wales is given as figured in the margin, and blazoned "on a coronet in a cradle or, a greyhound argent for walys" (see j. r. planché, _twelve designs for the costume of shakespeare's richard iii._, , frontispiece). if this roll is authentic, the popularity of the legend is thrown back into the fifteenth century. it still remains to explain how and when this general legend of rash action was localised and specialised at bedd gelert: i believe i have discovered this. there certainly was a local legend about a dog named gelert at that place; e. jones, in the first edition of his _musical relicks of the welsh bards, _, p. , gives the following _englyn_ or epigram: claddwyd cylart celfydd (ymlyniad) ymlaneau efionydd parod giuio i'w gynydd parai'r dydd yr heliai hydd; which he englishes thus: the remains of famed cylart, so faithful and good, the bounds of the cantred conceal; whenever the doe or the stag he pursued his master was sure of a meal. no reference was made in the first edition to the gellert legend, but in the second edition of , p. , a note was added telling the legend, "there is a general tradition in north wales that a wolf had entered the house of prince llewellyn. soon after the prince returned home, and, going into the nursery, he met his dog _kill-hart_, all bloody and wagging his tail at him; prince llewellyn, on entering the room found the cradle where his child lay overturned, and the floor flowing with blood; imagining that the greyhound had killed the child, he immediately drew his sword and stabbed it; then, turning up the cradle, found under it the child alive, and the wolf dead. this so grieved the prince, that he erected a tomb over his faithful dog's grave; where afterwards the parish church was built and goes by that name--_bedd cilhart_, or the grave of kill-hart, in _carnarvonshire_. from this incident is elicited a very common welsh proverb [that given above which occurs also in 'the fables of cattwg;' it will be observed that it is quite indefinite.]" "prince llewellyn ab jorwerth married joan, [natural] daughter of king john, by _agatha_, daughter of robert ferrers earl of derby; and the dog was a present to the prince from his father-in-law about the year ." it was clearly from this note that the hon. mr. spencer got his account; oral tradition does not indulge in dates _anno domini_. the application of the general legend of "the man who slew his greyhound" to the dog cylart, was due to the learning of e. jones, author of the _musical relicks_. i am convinced of this, for by a lucky chance i am enabled to give the real legend about cylart, which is thus given in carlisle's _topographical dictionary of wales_, s.v., "bedd celert," published in , the date of publication of mr. spencer's _poems_. "its name, according to tradition, implies _the grave of celert_, a greyhound which belonged to llywelyn, the last prince of wales: and a large rock is still pointed out as the monument of this celebrated dog, being on the spot where it was found dead, together with the stag which it had pursued from carnarvon," which is thirteen miles distant. the cairn was thus a monument of a "record" run of a greyhound: the _englyn_ quoted by jones is suitable enough for this, while quite inadequate to record the later legendary exploits of gêlert. jones found an _englyn_ devoted to _an_ exploit of a dog named cylart, and chose to interpret it in his second edition, , as _the_ exploit of a greyhound with which all the world (in wales) were acquainted. mr. spencer took the legend from jones (the reference to the date proves that), enshrined it in his somewhat _banal_ verses, which were lucky enough to be copied into several reading-books, and thus became known to all english-speaking folk. it remains only to explain why jones connected the legend with llewelyn. llewelyn had local connection with bedd gellert, which was the seat of an augustinian abbey, one of the oldest in wales. an inspeximus of edward i. given in dugdale, _monast. angl._, ed. pr. ii., a, quotes as the earliest charter of the abbey "cartam lewelini magni." the name of the abbey was "beth kellarth"; the name is thus given by leland, _l. c._, and as late as an engraving at the british museum is entitled "beth kelert," while carlisle gives it as "beth celert." the place was thus named after the abbey, not after the cairn or rock. this is confirmed by the fact of which prof. rhys had informed me, that the collocation of letters _rt_ is un-welsh. under these circumstances it is not impossible, i think, that the earlier legends of the marvellous run of "cylart" from carnarvon was due to the etymologising fancy of some english-speaking welshman who interpreted the name as kill-hart, so that the simpler legend would be only a folk-etymology. but whether kellarth, kelert, cylart, gêlert or gellert ever existed and ran a hart from carnarvon to bedd gellert or no, there can be little doubt after the preceding that he was not the original hero of the fable of "the man that slew his greyhound," which came to wales from buddhistic india through channels which are perfectly traceable. it was edward jones who first raised him to that proud position, and william spencer who securely installed him there, probably for all time. the legend is now firmly established at bedd gellert. there is said to be an ancient air, "bedd gelert," "as sung by the ancient britons"; it is given in a pamphlet published at carnarvon in the "fifties," entitled _gellert's grave; or, llewellyn's rashness: a ballad, by the hon. w. r. spencer, to which is added that ancient welsh air, "bedd gelert," as sung by the ancient britons_. the air is from r. roberts' "collection of welsh airs," but what connection it has with the legend i have been unable to ascertain. this is probably another case of adapting one tradition to another. it is almost impossible to distinguish palæozoic and cainozoic strata in oral tradition. according to murray's _guide to n. wales_, p. , the only authority for the cairn now shown is that of the landlord of the goat inn, "who felt compelled by the cravings of tourists to invent a grave." some old men at bedd gellert, prof. rhys informs me, are ready to testify that they saw the cairn laid. they might almost have been present at the birth of the legend, which, if my affiliation of it is correct, is not yet quite years old. xxii. story of ivan. _source._--lluyd, _archæologia britannia, _, the first comparative celtic grammar and the finest piece of work in comparative philology hitherto done in england, contains this tale as a specimen of cornish then still spoken in cornwall. i have used the english version contained in _blackwood's magazine_ as long ago as may, . i have taken the third counsel from the irish version, as the original is not suited _virginibus puerisque_ though harmless enough in itself. _parallels._--lover has a tale, _the three advices_. it occurs also in modern cornwall _ap._ hunt, _drolls of west of england_, , "the tinner of chyamor." borrow, _wild wales_, , has a reference which seems to imply that the story had crystallised into a welsh proverb. curiously enough, it forms the chief episode of the so-called "irish odyssey" (_merugud uilix maice leirtis_--"wandering of ulysses m'laertes"). it was derived, in all probability, from the _gesta romanorum_, c. , where two of the three pieces of advise are "avoid a byeway," "beware of a house where the housewife is younger than her husband." it is likely enough that this chapter, like others of the _gesta_, came from the east, for it is found in some versions of "the forty viziers," and in the _turkish tales_ (see oesterley's parallels and _gesta_, ed. swan and hooper, note ). xxiii. andrew coffey. _source._--from the late d. w. logie, written down by mr. alfred nutt. _parallels._--dr. hyde's "teig o'kane and the corpse," and kennedy's "cauth morrisy," _legend fict._, , are practically the same. _remarks._--no collection of celtic folk-tales would be representative that did not contain some specimen of the gruesome. the most effective ghoul story in existence is lover's "brown man." xxiv. battle of birds. _source._--campbell (_pop. tales, w. highlands_, no. ii.), with touches from the seventh variant and others, including the casket and key finish, from curtin's "son of the king of erin" (_myths, &c., seq._). i have also added a specimen of the humorous end pieces added by gaelic story-tellers; on these tags see an interesting note in macdougall's _tales_, note on p. . i have found some difficulty in dealing with campbell's excessive use of the second person singular, "if thou thouest him some two or three times, 'tis well," but beyond that it is wearisome. practically, i have reserved _thou_ for the speech of giants, who may be supposed to be somewhat old-fashioned. i fear, however, i have not been quite consistent, though the _you's_ addressed to the apple-pips are grammatically correct as applied to the pair of lovers. _parallels._--besides the eight versions given or abstracted by campbell and mr. curtin, there is carleton's "three tasks," dr. hyde's "son of branduf" (ms.); there is the first tale of macinnes (where see mr. nutt's elaborate notes, - ), two in the _celtic magazine_, vol. xii., "grey norris from warland" (_folk-lore journ._ i., ), and mr. lang's morayshire tale, "nicht nought nothing" (see _eng fairy tales_, no. vii.), no less than sixteen variants found among the celts. it must have occurred early among them. mr. nutt found the feather-thatch incident in the _agallamh na senoraib_ ("discourse of elders"), which is at least as old as the fifteenth century. yet the story is to be found throughout the indo-european world, as is shown by prof. köhler's elaborate list of parallels attached to mr. lang's variant in _revue celtique_, iii., ; and mr. lang, in his _custom and myth_ ("a far-travelled tale"), has given a number of parallels from savage sources. and strangest of all, the story is practically the same as the classical myth of jason and medea. _remarks._--mr. nutt, in his discussion of the tale (macinnes, _tales_, ), makes the interesting suggestion that the obstacles to pursuit, the forest, the mountain, and the river, exactly represent the boundary of the old teutonic hades, so that the story was originally one of the descent to hell. altogether it seems likely that it is one of the oldest folk-tales in existence, and belonged to the story-store of the original aryans, whoever they were, was passed by them with their language on to the hellenes and perhaps to the indians, was developed in its modern form in scandinavia (where its best representative "the master-maid" of asbjörnsen is still found), was passed by them to the celts and possibly was transmitted by these latter to other parts of europe, perhaps by early irish monks (see notes on "sea-maiden"). the spread in the buddhistic world, and thence to the south seas and madagascar, would be secondary from india. i hope to have another occasion for dealing with this most interesting of all folk-tales in the detail it deserves. xxv. brewery of eggshells. _source._--from the _cambrian quarterly magazine, _, vol. ii., p. ; it is stated to be literally translated from the welsh. _parallels._--another variant from glamorganshire is given in _y cymmrodor_, vi., . croker has the story under the title i have given the welsh one in his _fairy legends_, . mr. hartland, in his _science of fairy tales_, - , gives the european parallels. xxvi. lad with the goat-skin. _source._--kennedy, _legendary fictions_, pp. - . the adventures of "gilla na chreck an gour'." _parallels._--"the lad with the skin coverings" is a popular celtic figure, _cf._ macdougall's third tale, macinnes's second, and a reference in campbell, iii., . according to mr. nutt (_holy grail_, ), he is the original of parzival. but the adventures in these tales are not the "cure by laughing" incident which forms the centre of our tale, and is indo-european in extent (_cf._ references in _english fairy tales_, notes to no. xxvii.). "the smith who made hell too hot for him is sisyphus," says mr. lang (introd. to grimm, p. xiii); in ireland he is billy dawson (carleton, _three wishes_). in the finn-saga, conan harries hell, as readers of _waverley_ may remember "'claw for claw, and devil take the shortest nails,' as conan said to the devil" (_cf._ campbell, _the fians_, , and notes, ). red-haired men in ireland and elsewhere are always rogues (see mr. nutt's references, macinnes's _tales_, ; to which add the case in "lough neagh," yeats, _irish folk tales_, p. ). * * * * * folk and fairy tales from many lands english folk and fairy tales · joseph jacobs _illustrated by john d. batten_ more english folk and fairy tales · joseph jacobs _illustrated by john d. batten_ celtic folk and fairy tales · joseph jacobs _illustrated by john d. batten_ european folk and fairy tales · joseph jacobs _illustrated by john d. batten_ indian folk and fairy tales · joseph jacobs _illustrated by john d. batten_ the book of wonder voyages · joseph jacobs _illustrated by john d. batten_ johnny-cake · joseph jacobs _illustrated by emma l. brock_ chimney corner fairy tales · veronica s. hutchinson, editor candlelight stories · veronica s. hutchinson, editor chimney corner stories · veronica s. hutchinson, editor fireside stories · veronica s. hutchinson, editor * * * * * fragments of ancient poetry by james macpherson the augustan reprint society introduction by john j. dunn general editors george robert guffey, university of california, los angeles earl miner, university of california, los angeles maximillian e. novak, university of california, los angeles robert vosper, william andrews clark memorial library advisory editors richard c. boys, university of michigan james l. clifford, columbia university ralph cohen, university of california, los angeles vinton a. dearing, university of california, los angeles arthur friedman, university of chicago louis a. landa, princeton university samuel h. monk, university of minnesota everett t. moore, university of california, los angeles lawrence clark powell, william andrews clark memorial library james sutherland, university college, london h. t. swedenberg, jr., university of california, los angeles corresponding secretary edna c. davis, william andrews clark memorial library introduction byron was actually the third scotsman in about fifty years who awoke and found himself famous; the sudden rise from obscurity to international fame had been experienced earlier by two fellow countrymen, sir walter scott and james macpherson. considering the greatness of the reputation of the two younger writers, it may seem strange to link their names with macpherson's, but in the early nineteenth century it would not have seemed so odd. in fact, as young men both scott and byron would have probably have been flattered by such an association. scott tells us that in his youth he "devoured rather than perused" ossian and that he could repeat whole duans "without remorse"; and, as i shall discuss later, byron paid macpherson the high compliment of writing an imitation of ossian, which he published in _hours of idleness_. the publication of the modest and anonymous pamphlet, _fragments of ancient poetry_ marks the beginning of macpherson's rise to fame, and concomitantly the start of a controversy that is unique in literary history. for the half-century that followed, the body of poetry that was eventually collected as _the poems of ossian_ provoked the comment of nearly every important man of letters. extravagance and partisanship were characteristic of most of the remarks, but few literary men were indifferent. the intensity and duration of the controversy are indicative of how seriously macpherson's work was taken, for it was to many readers of the day daring, original, and passionate. even malcolm laing, whose ardor in exposing macpherson's imposture exceeded that of dr. johnson, responded to the literary quality of the poems. in a note on the fourth and fifth "fragments" the arch prosecutor of macpherson commented, "from a singular coincidence of circumstances, it was in this house, where i now write, that i first read the poems in my early youth, with an ardent credulity that remained unshaken for many years of my life; and with a pleasure to which even the triumphant satisfaction of detecting the imposture is comparatively nothing. the enthusiasm with which i read and studied the poems, enabled me afterwards, when my suspicions were once awakened, to trace and expose the deception with greater success. yet, notwithstanding the severity of minute criticism, i can still peruse them as a wild and wonderful assemblage of imitation with which the fancy is often pleased and gratified, even when the judgment condemns them most."[ ] ii it was john home, famous on both sides of the tweed as the author of _douglas_, who first encouraged macpherson to undertake his translations. while taking the waters at moffat in the fall of , he was pleased to meet a young highland tutor, who was not only familiar with ancient gaelic poetry but who had in his possession several such poems. home, like nearly all of the edinburgh literati, knew no gaelic and asked macpherson to translate one of them. the younger man at first protested that a translation "would give a very imperfect idea of the original," but home "with some difficulty" persuaded him to try. in a "day or two" macpherson brought him the poem that was to become "fragment vii" in this collection; home was so much pleased with it that he requested additional translations.[ ] "jupiter" carlyle, whose autobiography reflects the keen interest that he took in literature, arrived at moffat after home had seen the "translations." home, he found, "had been highly delighted with them," and when carlyle read them he "was perfectly astonished at the poetical genius" that they displayed. they agreed that "it was a precious discovery, and that as soon as possible it should be published to the world."[ ] when home left moffat he took his find to edinburgh and showed the translations to the men who earned the city smollett's sobriquet, a "hotbed of genius": robertson, fresh from the considerable success of his two volume _history of scotland_ ( ); robert fergusson, recently appointed professor of natural history at the university of edinburgh; lord elibank, a learned aristocrat, who had been patron to home and robertson; and hugh blair, famous for the sermons that he delivered as rector of the high church of st. giles. home was gratified that these men were "no less pleased" with macpherson's work than he had been. david hume and david dalrymple (later lord hailes) were soon apprised of the discovery and joined in the chorus of approbation that emanated from the scottish capitol. blair became the spokesman and the leader for the edinburgh literati, and for the next forty years he lavished his energy in praising and defending macpherson's work. the translations came to him at the time that he was writing his lectures on _belles lettres_ and was thus in the process of formulating his theories on the origins of poetry and the nature of the sublime. blair lost no time in communicating with macpherson: "i being as much struck as mr home with the high spirit of poetry which breathed in them, presently made inquiry where mr. macpherson was to be found; and having sent for him to come to me, had much conversation with him on the subject."[ ] macpherson told blair that there were "greater and more considerable poems of the same strain" still extant in the highlands; blair like home was eager for more, but macpherson again declined to translate them. he said that he felt himself inadequate to render "the spirit and force" of the originals and that "they would be very ill relished by the public as so very different from the strain of modern ideas, and of modern, connected, and polished poetry." this whetted blair's interest even more, and after "repeated importunity" he persuaded macpherson to translate more fragments. the result was the present volume, which blair saw to the press and for which he wrote the preface "in consequence of the conversations" that he had with macpherson.[ ] most of blair's preface does seem to be based on information supplied by macpherson, for blair had almost no first-hand knowledge about highland poetry or its traditions. it is apparent from the preface then, that macpherson had not yet decided to ascribe the poems to a single poet; ossian is one of the principal poets in the collection but the whole is merely ascribed "to the bards" (see pp. v-vi). it is also evident from the preface that macpherson was shifting from the reluctant "translator" of a few "fragments" to the projector of a full-length epic "if enough encouragement were given for such an undertaking." since blair became famous for his _critical dissertation on the poems of ossian_ (london, ), it may seem strange that in the preface to the _fragments_ he declined to say anything of the "poetical merit" of the collection. the frank adulation of the longer essay, which concludes with the brave assertion that ossian may be placed "among those whose works are to last for ages,"[ ] was partially a reflection of the enthusiasm that greeted each of macpherson's successive publications. iii part of the appeal of the _fragments_ was obviously based on the presumption that they were, as blair hastened to assure the reader, "genuine remains of ancient scottish poetry," and therefore provided a remarkable insight into a remote, primitive culture; here were maidens and warriors who lived in antiquity on the harsh, wind-swept wastes of the highlands, but they were capable of highly refined and sensitive expressions of grief--they were the noblest savages of them all. for some readers the rumors of imposture served to dampen their initial enthusiasm, and such was the case with hume, walpole, and boswell, but many of the admirers of the poems found them rapturous, authentic or not. after gray had read several of the "fragments" in manuscript he wrote to thomas warton that he had "gone mad about them"; he added, "i was so struck, so _extasié_ with their infinite beauty, that i writ into scotland to make a thousand enquiries.... the whole external evidence would make one believe these fragments (for so he calls them, tho' nothing can be more entire) counterfeit: but the internal is so strong on the other side, that i am resolved to believe them genuine spite of the devil & the kirk." gray concluded his remarks with the assertion that "this man is the very demon of poetry, or he has lighted on a treasure hid for ages."[ ] nearly fifty years later byron wrote a "humble imitation" of ossian for the admirers of macpherson's work and presented it as evidence of his "attachment to their favorite author," even though he was aware of the imposture. in a note to "the death of calmar and orla," he commented, "i fear laing's late edition has completely overthrown every hope that macpherson's ossian might prove the translation of a series of poems complete in themselves; but while the imposture is discovered, the merit of the work remains undisputed, though not without faults--particularly, in some parts, turgid and bombastic diction."[ ] in hazlitt felt that ossian is "a feeling and a name that can never be destroyed in the minds of his readers," and he classed the work as one of the four prototypes of poetry along with the bible, homer, and dante. on the question of authenticity he observed, "if it were indeed possible to shew that this writer was nothing, it would be another instance of mutability, another blank made, another void left in the heart, another confirmation of that feeling which makes him so often complain, 'roll on, ye dark brown years, ye bring no joy on your wing to ossian!'"[ ] there is some justice in macpherson's wry assertion that "those who have doubted my veracity have paid a compliment to my genius."[ ] by examining briefly the distinctive form of the "fragments," their diction, their setting, their tone, and their structure, we may sense something of the qualities of the poems that made them attractive to such men as gray, byron, and hazlitt. iv perhaps macpherson's most important innovation was to cast his work into what his contemporaries called "measured prose," and it was recognized early that this new form contributed greatly to their appeal. in discussing the _fragments_, ramsey of ochtertyre commented, "nothing could be more happy or judicious than his translating in measured prose; for had he attempted it in verse, much of the spirit of the original would have evaporated, supposing him to have had talents and industry to perform that very arduous task upon a great scale. this small publication drew the attention of the literary world to a new species of poetry."[ ] for his new species of poetry macpherson drew upon the stylistic techniques of the king james version of the bible, just as blake and whitman were to do later. as bishop lowth was the first to point out, parallelism is the basic structural technique. macpherson incorporated two principal forms of parallelism in his poems: _repetition_, a pattern in which the second line nearly restates the sense of the first, and _completion_ in which the second line picks up part of the sense of the first line and adds to it. these are both common in the _fragments_, but a few examples may be useful. i have rearranged the following lines and in the other passages relating to the structure of the poems in order to call attention to the binary quality of macpherson's verse: _repetition_ who can reach the source of thy race, o connal? and who recount thy fathers? ("fragment v") oscur my son came down; the mighty in battle descended. ("fragment vi") oscur stood forth to meet him; my son would meet the foe. ("fragment viii") future times shall hear of thee; they shall hear of the fallen morar. ("fragment xii") _completion_ what voice is that i hear? that voice like the summer wind. ("fragment i") the warriours saw her, and loved; their souls were fixed on the maid. each loved her, as his fame; each must possess her or die. but her soul was fixed on oscur; my son was the youth of her love. ("fragment vii") macpherson also used grammatical parallelism as a structural device; a series of simple sentences is often used to describe a landscape: autumn is dark on the mountains; grey mist rests on the hills. the whirlwind is heard on the heath. dark rolls the river through the narrow plain. ("fragment v") the poems also have a discernible rhythmical pattern; the tendency of the lines to form pairs is obvious enough when there is semantic or grammatical parallelism, but there is a general binary pattern throughout. typically, the first unit is a simple sentence, the second almost any grammatical structure--an appositive, a prepositional phrase, a participle, the second element of a compound verb, a dependent clause. a simile--in grammatical terms, an adverbial phrase--sometimes constitutes the second element. these pairs are often balanced roughly by the presence of two, three, or four accents in each constituent; there are a large number of imbedded iambic and anapestic feet, which give the rhythm an ascending quality: the da/ughter of r/inval was n/ear; crim/ora, br/ight in the arm/our of m/an; her ha/ir loose beh/ind, her b/ow in her h/and. she f/ollowed the y/outh to w/ar, co/nnal her m/uch bel/oved. she dr/ew the st/ring on d/argo; but e/rring pi/erced her c/onnal. ("fragment v") as e. h. w. meyerstein pointed out, "macpherson can, without extravagance, be regarded as the main originator (after the translators of the authorized version) of what's known as 'free verse."[ ] macpherson's work certainly served to stimulate prosodic experimentation during the next half century; it is certainly no coincidence that two of the boldest innovators, blake and coleridge, were admirers of macpherson's work. macpherson's diction must have also appealed to the growing taste for poetry that was less ornate and studied. his practice was to use a large number of concrete monosyllabic words of anglo-saxon origin to describe objects and forces common to rural life. a simple listing of the common nouns from the opening of "fragment i" will serve to illustrate this tendency: _love, son, hill, deer, dogs, bow-string, wind, stream, rushes, mist, oak, friends_. such diction bears an obvious kinship to what was to become the staple diction of the romantic lyric; for example, a similar listing from "a slumber did my spirit seal" would be this: _slumber, spirit, fears, thing, touch, years, motion, force, course, rocks, stones, trees_. the untamed power of macpherson's wild natural settings is also striking. samuel h. monk has made the point well: "ossian's strange exotic wildness and his obscure, terrible glimpses of scenery were in essence something quite new.... ossian's images were far from "nature methodized." his imagination illumined fitfully a scene of mountains and blasted heaths, as artificially wild as his heroines were artificially sensitive; to modern readers they resemble too much the stage-settings of melodrama. but in , his descriptions carried with them the thrill of the genuine and of naïvely archaic." and monk adds, "imperceptibly the ossianic poems contributed toward converting britons, nay, europeans, into enthusiastic admirers of nature in her wilder moments."[ ] ghosts are habitually present in the poems, and macpherson is able to present them convincingly because they are described by a poet who treats them as though they were part of his and his audience's habitual experience. the supernatural world is so familiar, in fact, that it can be used to describe the natural; thus minvane in "fragment vii" is called as fair "as the spirits of the hill when at silent noon they glide along the heath." as patricia m. spacks has observed, the supernatural seems to be a "genuine part of the poetic texture"; and she adds that "within this poetic context, the supernatural seems convincing because believed in: it is part of the fabric of life for the characters of the poem. ghosts in the ossianic poems, almost uniquely in the mid-eighteenth century, seem genuinely to belong; to this particular poetic conception the supernatural does not seem extraneous."[ ] the _fragments_ was also a cause and a reflection of the rising appeal of the hero of sensibility, whose principal characteristic was that he could feel more intensely than the mass of humanity. the most common emotion that these acutely empathetic heroes felt was grief, the emotion that permeates the _fragments_ and the rest of macpherson's work. it was the exquisite sensibility of macpherson's heroes and heroines that the young goethe was struck by; werther, an ossianic hero in his own way, comments, "you should see what a silly figure i cut when she is mentioned in society! and then if i am even asked how i like her--like! i hate that word like death. what sort of person must that be who likes lotte, in whom all senses, all emotions are not completely filled up by her! like! recently someone asked me how i like ossian!"[ ] that macpherson chose to call his poems "fragments" is indicative of another quality that made them unusual in their day. the poems have a spontaneity that is suggested by the fact that the poets seem to be creating their songs as the direct reflection of an emotional experience. in contrast to the image of the poet as the orderer, the craftsman, the poets of the _fragments_ have a kind of artlessness (to us a very studied one, to be sure) that gave them an aura of sincerity and honesty. the poems are fragmentary in the sense that they do not follow any orderly, rational plan but seem to take the form that corresponds to the development of an emotional experience. as macpherson told blair they are very different from "modern, connected, and polished poetry." v the _fragments_ proved an immediate success and macpherson's edinburgh patrons moved swiftly to raise enough money to enable the young highlander to resign his position as tutor and to devote himself to collecting and translating the gaelic poetry still extant in the highlands. blair recalled that he and lord elibank were instrumental in convening a dinner meeting that was attended by "many of the first persons of rank and taste in edinburgh," including robertson, home, and fergusson.[ ] robert chalmers acted as treasurer; among the forty odd subscribers who contributed £, were james boswell and david hume.[ ] by the time of the second edition of the _fragments_ (also in ), blair, or more likely macpherson himself, could inform the public in the "advertisement" "that measures are now taken for making a full collection of the remaining scottish bards; in particular, for recovering and translating the heroic poem mentioned in the preface." macpherson, a frugal man, included many of the "fragments" in his later work. sometimes he introduced them into the notes as being later than ossian but in the same spirit; at other times he introduced them as episodes in the longer narratives. with the exception of laing's edition, they are not set off, however, and anyone who wishes to see what caused the initial ossianic fervor must consult the original volume. when we have to remind ourselves that a work of art was revolutionary in its day, we can be sure that we are dealing with something closer to cultural artifact than to art, and it must be granted that this is true of macpherson's work; nevertheless, the fact that ossian aroused the interest of major men of letters for fifty years is suggestive of his importance as an innovator. in a curious way, macpherson's achievement has been overshadowed by the fact that many greater writers followed him and developed the artistic direction that he was among the first to take. notes to the introduction [footnote : see scott's letter to anna seward in j. g. lockhart, _memoirs of sir walter scott_ (london, ), i, - .] [footnote : _the poems of ossian_, ed. malcolm laing (edinburgh, ), i, .] [footnote : see home's letter to mackenzie in the _report of the committee of the highland society of scotland_ (edinburgh, ), appendix, pp. - .] [footnote : carlyle to mackenzie, _ibid_., p. .] [footnote : blair to mackenzie, _ibid_., p. .] [footnote : _ibid_., p. .] [footnote : quoted from _the poems of ossian_ (london, ), i, . after its initial separate publication, blair's dissertation was regularly included with the collected poems.] [footnote : _correspondence of thomas gray_, ed. paget toynbee and leonard whibley (oxford, ), ii, - .] [footnote : _the works of lord byron, poetry_, ed. ernest hartley coleridge (london, ), i, .] [footnote : "on poetry in general," _the complete works of william hazlitt_, ed. p. p. howe (london, ), v, .] [footnote : quoted in henry grey graham, _scottish men of letters in the eighteenth century_ (london, ), p. .] [footnote : _scotland and scotsmen in the eighteenth century_, ed. alexander allardyce (edinburgh, ), i, .] [footnote : "the influence of ossian," _english_, vii ( ), .] [footnote : _the sublime_ (ann arbor, ), p. .] [footnote : _the insistence of horror_ (cambridge, mass., ), pp. - .] [footnote : _the sufferings of young werther_, trans. bayard morgan (new york, ), p. .] [footnote : _report_, appendix, p. .] [footnote : see robert m. schmitz, _hugh blair_ (new york, ), p. .] fragments of ancient poetry collected in the highlands of scotland, and translated from the galic or erse language "vos quoque qui fortes animas, belloque peremtas laudibus in longum vates dimittitis aevuin, plurima securi fudistis carmina _bardi_." lucan preface the public may depend on the following fragments as genuine remains of ancient scottish poetry. the date of their composition cannot be exactly ascertained. tradition, in the country where they were written, refers them to an æra of the most remote antiquity: and this tradition is supported by the spirit and strain of the poems themselves; which abound with those ideas, and paint those manners, that belong to the most early state of society. the diction too, in the original, is very obsolete; and differs widely from the style of such poems as have been written in the same language two or three centuries ago. they were certainly composed before the establishment of clanship in the northern part of scotland, which is itself very ancient; for had clans been then formed and known, they must have made a considerable figure in the work of a highland bard; whereas there is not the least mention of them in these poems. it is remarkable that there are found in them no allusions to the christian religion or worship; indeed, few traces of religion of any kind. one circumstance seems to prove them to be coeval with the very infancy of christianity in scotland. in a fragment of the same poems, which the translator has seen, a culdee or monk is represented as desirous to take down in writing from the mouth of oscian, who is the principal personage in several of the following fragments, his warlike atchievements and those of his family. but oscian treats the monk and his religion with disdain, telling him, that the deeds of such great men were subjects too high to be recorded by him, or by any of his religion: a full proof that christianity was not as yet established in the country. though the poems now published appear as detached pieces in this collection, there is ground to believe that most of them were originally episodes of a greater work which related to the wars of fingal. concerning this hero innumerable traditions remain, to this day, in the highlands of scotland. the story of oscian, his son, is so generally known, that to describe one in whom the race of a great family ends, it has passed into a proverb; "oscian the last of the heroes." there can be no doubt that these poems are to be ascribed to the bards; a race of men well known to have continued throughout many ages in ireland and the north of scotland. every chief or great man had in his family a bard or poet, whose office it was to record in verse, the illustrious actions of that family. by the succession of these bards, such poems were handed down from race to race; some in manuscript, but more by oral tradition. and tradition, in a country so free of intermixture with foreigners, and among a people so strongly attached to the memory of their ancestors, has preserved many of them in a great measure incorrupted to this day. they are not set to music, nor sung. the verification in the original is simple; and to such as understand the language, very smooth and beautiful; rhyme is seldom used: but the cadence, and the length of the line varied, so as to suit the sense. the translation is extremely literal. even the arrangement of the words in the original has been imitated; to which must be imputed some inversions in the style, that otherwise would not have been chosen. of the poetical merit of these fragments nothing shall here be said. let the public judge, and pronounce. it is believed, that, by a careful inquiry, many more remains of ancient genius, no less valuable than those now given to the world, might be found in the same country where these have been collected. in particular there is reason to hope that one work of considerable length, and which deserves to be styled an heroic poem, might be recovered and translated, if encouragement were given to such an undertaking. the subject is, an invasion of ireland by swarthan king of lochlyn; which is the name of denmark in the erse language. cuchulaid, the general or chief of the irish tribes, upon intelligence of the invasion, assembles his forces. councils are held; and battles fought. but after several unsuccescful engagements, the irish are forced to submit. at length, fingal king of scotland, called in this poem, "the desert of the hills," arrives with his ships to assist cuchulaid. he expels the danes from the country; and returns home victorious. this poem is held to be of greater antiquity than any of the rest that are preserved. and the author speaks of himself as present in the expedition of fingal. the three last poems in the collection are fragments which the translator obtained of this epic poem; and though very imperfect, they were judged not unworthy of being inserted. if the whole were recovered, it might serve to throw confiderable light upon the scottish and irish antiquities. fragment i shilric, vinvela. vinvela my love is a son of the hill. he pursues the flying deer. his grey dogs are panting around him; his bow-string sounds in the wind. whether by the fount of the rock, or by the stream of the mountain thou liest; when the rushes are nodding with the wind, and the mist is flying over thee, let me approach my love unperceived, and see him from the rock. lovely i saw thee first by the aged oak; thou wert returning tall from the chace; the fairest among thy friends. shilric. what voice is that i hear? that voice like the summer-wind.--i sit not by the nodding rushes; i hear not the fount of the rock. afar, vinvela, afar i go to the wars of fingal. my dogs attend me no more. no more i tread the hill. no more from on high i see thee, fair-moving by the stream of the plain; bright as the bow of heaven; as the moon on the western wave. vinvela. then thou art gone, o shilric! and i am alone on the hill. the deer are seen on the brow; void of fear they graze along. no more they dread the wind; no more the rustling tree. the hunter is far removed; he is in the field of graves. strangers! sons of the waves! spare my lovely shilric. shilric. if fall i must in the field, raise high my grave, vinvela. grey stones, and heaped-up earth, shall mark me to future times. when the hunter shall sit by the mound, and produce his food at noon, "some warrior rests here," he will say; and my fame shall live in his praise. remember me, vinvela, when low on earth i lie! vinvela. yes!--i will remember thee--indeed my shilric will fall. what shall i do, my love! when thou art gone for ever? through these hills i will go at noon: o will go through the silent heath. there i will see where often thou sattest returning from the chace. indeed, my shilric will fall; but i will remember him. ii i sit by the mossy fountain; on the top of the hill of winds. one tree is rustling above me. dark waves roll over the heath. the lake is troubled below. the deer descend from the hill. no hunter at a distance is seen; no whistling cow-herd is nigh. it is mid-day: but all is silent. sad are my thoughts as i sit alone. didst thou but appear, o my love, a wanderer on the heath! thy hair floating on the wind behind thee; thy bosom heaving on the sight; thine eyes full of tears for thy friends, whom the mist of the hill had concealed! thee i would comfort, my love, and bring thee to thy father's house. but is it she that there appears, like a beam of light on the heath? bright as the moon in autumn, as the sun in a summer-storm?--she speaks: but how weak her voice! like the breeze in the reeds of the pool. hark! returnest thou safe from the war? "where are thy friends, my love? i heard of thy death on the hill; i heard and mourned thee, shilric!" yes, my fair, i return; but i alone of my race. thou shalt see them no more: their graves i raised on the plain. but why art thou on the desert hill? why on the heath, alone? alone i am, o shilric! alone in the winter-house. with grief for thee i expired. shilric, i am pale in the tomb. she fleets, she sails away; as grey mist before the wind!--and, wilt thou not stay, my love? stay and behold my tears? fair thou appearest, my love! fair thou wast, when alive! by the mossy fountain i will sit; on the top of the hill of winds. when mid-day is silent around, converse, o my love, with me! come on the wings of the gale! on the blast of the mountain, come! let me hear thy voice, as thou passest, when mid-day is silent around. iii evening is grey on the hills. the north wind resounds through the woods. white clouds rise on the sky: the trembling snow descends. the river howls afar, along its winding course. sad, by a hollow rock, the grey-hair'd carryl sat. dry fern waves over his head; his seat is in an aged birch. clear to the roaring winds he lifts his voice of woe. tossed on the wavy ocean is he, the hope of the isles; malcolm, the support of the poor; foe to the proud in arms! why hast thou left us behind? why live we to mourn thy fate? we might have heard, with thee, the voice of the deep; have seen the oozy rock. sad on the sea-beat shore thy spouse looketh for thy return. the time of thy promise is come; the night is gathering around. but no white sail is on the sea; no voice is heard except the blustering winds. low is the soul of the war! wet are the locks of youth! by the foot of some rock thou liest; washed by the waves as they come. why, ye winds, did ye bear him on the desert rock? why, ye waves, did ye roll over him? but, oh! what voice is that? who rides on that meteor of fire! green are his airy limbs. it is he! it is the ghost of malcolm!--rest, lovely soul, rest on the rock; and let me hear thy voice!--he is gone, like a dream of the night. i see him through the trees. daughter of reynold! he is gone. thy spouse shall return no more. no more shall his hounds come from the hill, forerunners of their master. no more from the distant rock shall his voice greet thine ear. silent is he in the deep, unhappy daughter of reynold! i will sit by the stream of the plain. ye rocks! hang over my head. hear my voice, ye trees! as ye bend on the shaggy hill. my voice shall preserve the praise of him, the hope of the isles. iv connal, crimora, crimora. who cometh from the hill, like a cloud tinged with the beam of the west? whose voice is that, loud as the wind, but pleasant as the harp of carryl? it is my love in the light of steel; but sad is his darkened brow. live the mighty race of fingal? or what disturbs my connal? connal. they live. i saw them return from the chace, like a stream of light. the sun was on their shields: in a line they descended the hill. loud is the voice of the youth; the war, my love, is near. to-morrow the enormous dargo comes to try the force of our race. the race of fingal he defies; the race of battle and wounds. crimora. connal, i saw his sails like grey mist on the sable wave. they came to land. connnal, many are the warriors of dargo! connal. bring me thy father's shield; the iron shield of rinval; that shield like the full moon when it is darkened in the sky. crimora. that shield i bring, o connal; but it did not defend my father. by the spear of gauror he fell. thou mayst fall, o connal! connal. fall indeed i may: but raise my tomb, crimora. some stones, a mound of earth, shall keep my memory. though fair thou art, my love, as the light; more pleasant than the gale of the hill; yet i will not stay. raise my tomb, crimora. crimora, then give me those arms of light; that sword, and that spear of steel. i shall meet dargo with thee, and aid my lovely connal. farewell, ye rocks of ardven! ye deer! and ye streams of the hill!--we shall return no more. our tombs are distant far. v autumn is dark on the mountains; grey mist rests on the hills. the whirlwind is heard on the heath. dark rolls the river through the narrow plain. a tree stands alone on the hill, and marks the grave of connal. the leaves whirl round with the wind, and strew the grave of the dead. at times are seen here the ghosts of the deceased, when the musing hunter alone stalks slowly over the heath. who can reach the source of thy race, o connal? and who recount thy fathers? thy family grew like an oak on the mountain, which meeteth the wind with its lofty head. but now it is torn from the earth. who shall supply the place of connal? here was the din of arms; and here the groans of the dying. mournful are the wars of fingal! o connal! it was here thou didst fall. thine arm was like a storm; thy sword, a beam of the sky; thy height, a rock on the plain; thine eyes, a furnace of fire. louder than a storm was thy voice, when thou confoundedst the field. warriors fell by thy sword, as the thistle by the staff of a boy. dargo the mighty came on, like a cloud of thunder. his brows were contracted and dark. his eyes like two caves in a rock. bright rose their swords on each side; dire was the clang of their steel. the daughter of rinval was near; crimora, bright in the armour of man; her hair loose behind, her bow in her hand. she followed the youth to the war, connal her much beloved. she drew the string on dargo; but erring pierced her connal. he falls like an oak on the plain; like a rock from the shaggy hill. what shall she do, hapless maid!--he bleeds; her connal dies. all the night long she cries, and all the day, o connal, my love, and my friend! with grief the sad mourner died. earth here incloseth the loveliest pair on the hill. the grass grows between the stones of their tomb; i sit in the mournful shade. the wind sighs through the grass; and their memory rushes on my mind. undisturbed you now sleep together; in the tomb of the mountain you rest alone. vi son of the noble fingal, oscian, prince of men! what tears run down the cheeks of age? what shades thy mighty soul? memory, son of alpin, memory wounds the aged. of former times are my thoughts; my thoughts are of the noble fingal. the race of the king return into my mind, and wound me with remembrance. one day, returned from the sport of the mountains, from pursuing the sons of the hill, we covered this heath with our youth. fingal the mighty was here, and oscur, my son, great in war. fair on our sight from the sea, at once, a virgin came. her breast was like the snow of one night. her cheek like the bud of the rose. mild was her blue rolling eye: but sorrow was big in her heart. fingal renowned in war! she cries, sons of the king, preserve me! speak secure, replies the king, daughter of beauty, speak: our ear is open to all: our swords redress the injured. i fly from ullin, she cries, from ullin famous in war. i fly from the embrace of him who would debase my blood. cremor, the friend of men, was my father; cremor the prince of inverne. fingal's younger sons arose; carryl expert in the bow; fillan beloved of the fair; and fergus first in the race. --who from the farthest lochlyn? who to the seas of molochasquir? who dares hurt the maid whom the sons of fingal guard? daughter of beauty, rest secure; rest in peace, thou fairest of women. far in the blue distance of the deep, some spot appeared like the back of the ridge-wave. but soon the ship increased on our sight. the hand of ullin drew her to land. the mountains trembled as he moved. the hills shook at his steps. dire rattled his armour around him. death and destruction were in his eyes. his stature like the roe of morven. he moved in the lightning of steel. our warriors fell before him, like the field before the reapers. fingal's three sons he bound. he plunged his sword into the fair-one's breast. she fell as a wreath of snow before the sun in spring. her bosom heaved in death; her soul came forth in blood. oscur my son came down; the mighty in battle descended. his armour rattled as thunder; and the lightning of his eyes was terrible. there, was the clashing of swords; there, was the voice of steel. they struck and they thrust; they digged for death with their swords. but death was distant far, and delayed to come. the sun began to decline; and the cow-herd thought of home. then oscur's keen steel found the heart of ullin. he fell like a mountain-oak covered over with glittering frost: he shone like a rock on the plain.--here the daughter of beauty lieth; and here the bravest of men. here one day ended the fair and the valiant. here rest the pursuer and the pursued. son of alpin! the woes of the aged are many: their tears are for the past. this raised my sorrow, warriour; memory awaked my grief. oscur my son was brave; but oscur is now no more. thou hast heard my grief, o son of alpin; forgive the tears of the aged. vii why openest thou afresh the spring of my grief, o son of alpin, inquiring how oscur fell? my eyes are blind with tears; but memory beams on my heart. how can i relate the mournful death of the head of the people! prince of the warriours, oscur my son, shall i see thee no more! he fell as the moon in a storm; as the sun from the midst of his course, when clouds rise from the waste of the waves, when the blackness of the storm inwraps the rocks of ardannider. i, like an ancient oak on morven, i moulder alone in my place. the blast hath lopped my branches away; and i tremble at the wings of the north. prince of the warriors, oscur my son! shall i see thee no more! dermid dermid and oscur were one: they reaped the battle together. their friendship was strong as their steel; and death walked between them to the field. they came on the foe like two rocks falling from the brows of ardven. their swords were stained with the blood of the valiant: warriours fainted at their names. who was a match for oscur, but dermid? and who for dermid, but oscur? they killed mighty dargo in the field; dargo before invincible. his daughter was fair as the morn; mild as the beam of night. her eyes, like two stars in a shower: her breath, the gale of spring: her breasts, as the new fallen snow floating on the moving heath. the warriours saw her, and loved; their souls were fixed on the maid. each loved her, as his fame; each must possess her or die. but her soul was fixed on oscur; my son was the youth of her love. she forgot the blood of her father; and loved the hand that slew him. son of oscian, said dermid, i love; o oscur, i love this maid. but her soul cleaveth unto thee; and nothing can heal dermid. here, pierce this bosom, oscur; relieve me, my friend, with thy sword. my sword, son of morny, shall never be stained with the blood of dermid. who then is worthy to slay me, o oscur son of oscian? let not my life pass away unknown. let none but oscur slay me. send me with honour to the grave, and let my death be renowned. dermid, make use of thy sword; son of moray, wield thy steel. would that i fell with thee! that my death came from the hand of dermid! they fought by the brook of the mountain; by the streams of branno. blood tinged the silvery stream, and crudled round the mossy stones. dermid the graceful fell; fell, and smiled in death. and fallest thou, son of morny; fallest, thou by oscur's hand! dermid invincible in war, thus do i see thee fall! --he went, and returned to the maid whom he loved; returned, but she perceived his grief. why that gloom, son of oscian? what shades thy mighty soul? though once renowned for the bow, o maid, i have lost my fame. fixed on a tree by the brook of the hill, is the shield of gormur the brave, whom in battle i slew. i have wasted the day in vain, nor could my arrow pierce it. let me try, son oscian, the skill of dargo's daughter. my hands were taught the bow: my father delighted in my skill. she went. he stood behind the shield. her arrow flew and pierced his breast[a]. [footnote a: nothing was held by the ancient highlanders more essential to their glory, than to die by the hand of some person worthy or renowned. this was the occasion of oscur's contriving to be slain by his mistress, now that he was weary of life. in those early times suicide was utterly unknown among that people, and no traces of it are found in the old poetry. whence the translator suspects the account that follows of the daughter of dargo killing herself, to be the interpolation of some later bard.] blessed be that hand of snow; and blessed thy bow of yew! i fall resolved on death: and who but the daughter of dargo was worthy to slay me? lay me in the earth, my fair-one; lay me by the side of dermid. oscur! i have the blood, the soul of the mighty dargo. well pleased i can meet death. my sorrow i can end thus.--she pierced her white bosom with steel. she fell; she trembled; and died. by the brook of the hill their graves are laid; a birch's unequal shade covers their tomb. often on their green earthen tombs the branchy sons of the mountain feed, when mid-day is all in flames, and silence is over all the hills. viii by the side of a rock on the hill, beneath the aged trees, old oscian sat on the moss; the last of the race of fingal. sightless are his aged eyes; his beard is waving in the wind. dull through the leafless trees he heard the voice of the north. sorrow revived in his soul: he began and lamented the dead. how hast thou fallen like an oak, with all thy branches round thee! where is fingal the king? where is oscur my son? where are all my race? alas! in the earth they lie. i feel their tombs with my hands. i hear the river below murmuring hoarsely over the stones. what dost thou, o river, to me? thou bringest back the memory of the past. the race of fingal stood on thy banks, like a wood in a fertile soil. keen were their spears of steel. hardy was he who dared to encounter their rage. fillan the great was there. thou oscur wert there, my son! fingal himself was there, strong in the grey locks of years. full rose his sinewy limbs; and wide his shoulders spread. the unhappy met with his arm, when the pride of his wrath arose. the son of morny came; gaul, the tallest of men. he stood on the hill like an oak; his voice was like the streams of the hill. why reigneth alone, he cries, the son of the mighty corval? fingal is not strong to save: he is no support for the people. i am strong as a storm in the ocean; as a whirlwind on the hill. yield, son of corval; fingal, yield to me. oscur stood forth to meet him; my son would meet the foe. but fingal came in his strength, and smiled at the vaunter's boast. they threw their arms round each other; they struggled on the plain. the earth is ploughed with their heels. their bones crack as the boat on the ocean, when it leaps from wave to wave. long did they toil; with night, they fell on the sounding plain; as two oaks, with their branches mingled, fall crashing from the hill. the tall son of morny is bound; the aged overcame. fair with her locks of gold, her smooth neck, and her breasts of snow; fair, as the spirits of the hill when at silent noon they glide along the heath; fair, as the rainbow of heaven; came minvane the maid. fingal! she softly saith, loose me my brother gaul. loose me the hope of my race, the terror of all but fingal. can i, replies the king, can i deny the lovely daughter of the hill? take thy brother, o minvane, thou fairer than the snow of the north! such, fingal! were thy words; but thy words i hear no more. sightless i sit by thy tomb. i hear the wind in the wood; but no more i hear my friends. the cry of the hunter is over. the voice of war is ceased. ix thou askest, fair daughter of the isles! whose memory is preserved in these tombs? the memory of ronnan the bold, and connan the chief of men; and of her, the fairest of maids, rivine the lovely and the good. the wing of time is laden with care. every moment hath woes of its own. why seek we our grief from afar? or give our tears to those of other times? but thou commanded, and i obey, o fair daughter of the isles! conar was mighty in war. caul was the friend of strangers. his gates were open to all; midnight darkened not on his barred door. both lived upon the sons of the mountains. their bow was the support of the poor. connan was the image of conar's soul. caul was renewed in ronnan his son. rivine the daughter of conar was the love of ronnan; her brother connan was his friend. she was fair as the harvest-moon setting in the seas of molochasquir. her soul was settled on ronnan; the youth was the dream of her nights. rivine, my love! says ronnan, i go to my king in norway[a]. a year and a day shall bring me back. wilt thou be true to ronnan? [footnote a: supposed to be fergus ii. this fragment is reckoned not altogether so ancient as most of the rest.] ronnan! a year and a day i will spend in sorrow. ronnan, behave like a man, and my soul shall exult in thy valour. connan my friend, says ronnan, wilt thou preserve rivine thy sister? durstan is in love with the maid; and soon shall the sea bring the stranger to our coast. ronnan, i will defend: do thou securely go.--he went. he returned on his day. but durstan returned before him. give me thy daughter, conar, says durstan; or fear and feel my power. he who dares attempt my sister, says connan, must meet this edge of steel. unerring in battle is my arm: my sword, as the lightning of heaven. ronnan the warriour came; and much he threatened durstan. but, saith euran the servant of gold, ronnan! by the gate of the north shall durstan this night carry thy fair-one away. accursed, answers ronnan, be this arm if death meet him not there. connan! saith euran, this night shall the stranger carry thy sister away. my sword shall meet him, replies connan, and he shall lie low on earth. the friends met by night, and they fought. blood and sweat ran down their limbs as water on the mossy rock. connan falls; and cries, o durstan, be favourable to rivine!--and is it my friend, cries ronnan, i have slain? o connan! i knew thee not. he went, and he fought with durstan. day began to rise on the combat, when fainting they fell, and expired. rivine came out with the morn; and--o what detains my ronnan! --she saw him lying pale in his blood; and her brother lying pale by his side. what could she say: what could she do? her complaints were many and vain. she opened this grave for the warriours; and fell into it herself, before it was closed; like the sun snatched away in a storm. thou hast heard this tale of grief, o fair daughter of the isles! rivine was fair as thyself: shed on her grave a tear. x it is night; and i am alone, forlorn on the hill of storms. the wind is heard in the mountain. the torrent shrieks down the rock. no hut receives me from the rain; forlorn on the hill of winds. rise, moon! from behind thy clouds; stars of the night, appear! lead me, some light, to the place where my love rests from the toil of the chase! his bow near him, unstrung; his dogs panting around him. but here i must sit alone, by the rock of the mossy stream. the stream and the wind roar; nor can i hear the voice of my love. why delayeth my shalgar, why the son of the hill, his promise? here is the rock; and the tree; and here the roaring stream. thou promisedst with night to be here. ah! whither is my shalgar gone? with thee i would fly my father; with thee, my brother of pride. our race have long been foes; but we are not foes, o shalgar! cease a little while, o wind! stream, be thou silent a while! let my voice be heard over the heath; let my wanderer hear me. shalgar! it is i who call. here is the tree, and the rock. shalgar, my love! i am here. why delayest thou thy coming? alas! no answer. lo! the moon appeareth. the flood is bright in the vale. the rocks are grey on the face of the hill. but i see him not on the brow; his dogs before him tell not that he is coming. here i must sit alone. but who are these that lie beyond me on the heath? are they my love and my brother?--speak to me, o my friends! they answer not. my soul is tormented with fears.--ah! they are dead. their swords are red from the fight. o my brother! my brother! why hast thou slain my shalgar? why, o shalgar! hast thou slain my brother? dear were ye both to me! speak to me; hear my voice, sons of my love! but alas! they are silent; silent for ever! cold are their breast of clay! oh! from the rock of the hill; from the top of the mountain of winds, speak ye ghosts of the dead! speak, and i will not be afraid.--whither are ye gone to rest? in what cave of the hill shall i find you? i sit in my grief. i wait for morning in my tears. rear the tomb, ye friends of the dead; but close it not till i come. my life flieth away like a dream: why should i stay behind? here shall i rest with my friends by the stream of the founding rock. when night comes on the hill: when the wind is up on the heath; my ghost shall stand in the wind, and mourn the death of my friends. the hunter shall hear from his booth. he shall fear, but love my voice. for sweet shall my voice be for my friends; for pleasant were they both to me. xi sad! i am sad indeed: nor small my cause of woe!--kirmor, thou hast lost no son; thou hast lost no daughter of beauty. connar the valiant lives; and annir the fairest of maids. the boughs of thy family flourish, o kirmor! but armyn is the last of his race. rise, winds of autumn, rise; blow upon the dark heath! streams of the mountains, roar! howl, ye tempests, in the trees! walk through broken clouds, o moon! show by intervals thy pale face! bring to my mind that sad night, when all my children fell; when arindel the mighty fell; when daura the lovely died. daura, my daughter! thou wert fair; fair as the moon on the hills of jura; white as the driven snow; sweet as the breathing gale. armor renowned in war came, and fought daura's love; he was not long denied; fair was the hope of their friends. earch son of odgal repined; for his brother was slain by armor. he came disguised like a son of the sea: fair was his skiff on the wave; white his locks of age; calm his serious brow. fairest of women, he said, lovely daughter of armyn! a rock not distant in the sea, bears a tree on its side; red shines the fruit afar. there armor waiteth for daura. i came to fetch his love. come, fair daughter of armyn! she went; and she called on armor. nought answered, but the son of the rock. armor, my love! my love! why tormentest thou me with fear? come, graceful son of arduart, come; it is daura who calleth thee!--earch the traitor fled laughing to the land. she lifted up her voice, and cried for her brother and her father. arindel! armyn! none to relieve your daura? her voice came over the sea. arindel my son descended from the hill; rough in the spoils of the chace. his arrows rattled by his side; his bow was in his hand; five grey dogs attended his steps. he saw fierce earch on the shore; he seized and bound him to an oak. thick fly the thongs of the hide around his limbs; he loads the wind with his groans. arindel ascends the surgy deep in his boat, to bring daura to the land. armor came in his wrath, and let fly the grey-feathered shaft. it sung; it sunk in thy heart, o arindel my son! for earch the traitor thou diedst. what is thy grief, o daura, when round thy feet is poured thy brother's blood! the boat is broken in twain by the waves. armor plunges into the sea, to rescue his daura or die. sudden a blast from the hill comes over the waves. he sunk, and he rose no more. alone, on the sea-beat rock, my daughter was heard to complain. frequent and loud were her cries; nor could her father relieve her. all night i stood on the shore. all night i heard her cries. loud was the wind; and the rain beat hard on the side of the mountain. before morning appeared, her voice was weak. it died away, like the evening-breeze among the grass of the rocks. spent with grief she expired. o lay me soon by her side. when the storms of the mountain come; when the north lifts the waves on high; i sit by the sounding shore, and look on the fatal rock. often by the setting moon i see the ghosts of my children. indistinct, they walk in mournful conference together. will none of you speak to me?--but they do not regard their father. xii ryno, alpin. ryno the wind and the rain are over: calm is the noon of day. the clouds are divided in heaven. over the green hills flies the inconstant sun. red through the stony vale comes down the stream of the hill. sweet are thy murmurs, o stream! but more sweet is the voice i hear. it is the voice of alpin the son of the song, mourning for the dead. bent is his head of age, and red his tearful eye. alpin, thou son of the song, why alone on the silent hill? why complainest thou, as a blast in the wood; as a wave on the lonely shore? alpin. my tears, o ryno! are for the dead; my voice, for the inhabitants of the grave. tall thou art on the hill; fair among the sons of the plain. but thou shalt fall like morar; and the mourner shalt sit on thy tomb. the hills shall know thee no more; thy bow shall lie in the hall, unstrung. thou wert swift, o morar! as a doe on the hill; terrible as a meteor of fire. thy wrath was as the storm of december. thy sword in battle, as lightning in the field. thy voice was like a stream after rain; like thunder on distant hills. many fell by thy arm; they were consumed in the flames of thy wrath. but when thou returnedst from war, how peaceful was thy brow! thy face was like the sun after rain; like the moon in the silence of night; calm as the breast of the lake when the loud wind is laid. narrow is thy dwelling now; dark the place of thine abode. with three steps i compass thy grave, o thou who wast so great before! four stones with their heads of moss are the only memorial of thee. a tree with scarce a leaf, long grass which whistles in the wind, mark to the hunter's eye the grave of the mighty morar. morar! thou art low indeed. thou hast no mother to mourn thee; no maid with her tears of love. dead is she that brought thee forth. fallen is the daughter of morglan. who on his staff is this? who is this, whose head is white with age, whose eyes are red with tears, who quakes at every step?--it is thy father, o morar! the father of none but thee. he heard of thy fame in battle; he heard of foes dispersed. he heard of morar's fame; why did he not hear of his wound? weep, thou father of morar! weep; but thy son heareth thee not. deep is the sleep of the dead; low their pillow of dust. no more shall he hear thy voice; no more shall he awake at thy call. when shall it be morn in the grave, to bid the slumberer awake? farewell, thou bravest of men! thou conqueror in the field! but the field shall see thee no more; nor the dark wood be lightened with the splendor of thy steel. thou hast left no son. but the song shall preserve thy name. future times shall hear of thee; they shall hear of the fallen morar. xiii [footnote: this is the opening of the epic poem mentioned in the preface. the two following fragments are parts of some episodes of the same work.] cuchlaid sat by the wall; by the tree of the rustling leaf. [footnote: the aspen or poplar tree] his spear leaned against the mossy rock. his shield lay by him on the grass. whilst he thought on the mighty carbre whom he slew in battle, the scout of the ocean came, moran the son of fithil. rise, cuchulaid, rise! i see the ships of garve. many are the foe, cuchulaid; many the sons of lochlyn. moran! thou ever tremblest; thy fears increase the foe. they are the ships of the desert of hills arrived to assist cuchulaid. i saw their chief, says moran, tall as a rock of ice. his spear is like that fir; his shield like the rising moon. he sat upon a rock on the shore, as a grey cloud upon the hill. many, mighty man! i said, many are our heroes; garve, well art thou named, many are the sons of our king. [footnote: garve signifies a man of great size.] he answered like a wave on the rock; who is like me here? the valiant live not with me; they go to the earth from my hand. the king of the desert of hills alone can fight with garve. once we wrestled on the hill. our heels overturned the wood. rocks fell from their place, and rivulets changed their course. three days we strove together; heroes stood at a distance, and feared. on the fourth, the king saith that i fell; but garve saith, he stood. let cuchulaid yield to him that is strong as a storm. no. i will never yield to man. cuchulaid will conquer or die. go, moran, take my spear; strike the shield of caithbait which hangs before the gate. it never rings in peace. my heroes shall hear on the hill,-- xiv duchommar, morna. duchommar. [footnote: the signification of the names in this fragment are; dubhchomar, a black well-shaped man. muirne or morna, a woman beloved by all. cormac-cairbre, an unequalled and rough warriour. cromleach, a crooked hill. mugruch, a surly gloomy man. tarman, thunder. moinie, soft in temper and person.] morna, thou fairest of women, daughter of cormac-carbre! why in the circle of stones, in the cave of the rock, alone? the stream murmureth hoarsely. the blast groaneth in the aged tree. the lake is troubled before thee. dark are the clouds of the sky. but thou art like snow on the heath. thy hair like a thin cloud of gold on the top of cromleach. thy breasts like two smooth rocks on the hill which is seen from the stream of brannuin. thy arms, as two white pillars in the hall of fingal. morna. whence the son of mugruch, duchommar the most gloomy of men? dark are thy brows of terror. red thy rolling eyes. does garve appear on the sea? what of the foe, duchommar? duchommar. from the hill i return, o morna, from the hill of the flying deer. three have i slain with my bow; three with my panting dogs. daughter of cormac-carbre, i love thee as my soul. i have slain a deer for thee. high was his branchy head; and fleet his feet of wind. morna. gloomy son of mugruch, duchommar! i love thee not: hard is thy heart of rock; dark thy terrible brow. but cadmor the son of tarman, thou art the love of morna! thou art like a sunbeam on the hill, in the day of the gloomy storm. sawest thou the son of tarman, lovely on the hill of the chace? here the daughter of cormac-carbre waiteth the coming of cadmor. duchommar. and long shall morna wait. his blood is on my sword. i met him by the mossy stone, by the oak of the noisy stream. he fought; but i slew him; his blood is on my sword. high on the hill i will raise his tomb, daughter of cormac-carbre. but love thou the son of mugruch; his arm is strong as a storm. morna. and is the son of tarman fallen; the youth with the breast of snow! the first in the chase of the hill; the foe of the sons of the ocean!--duchommar, thou art gloomy indeed; cruel is thy arm to me.--but give me that sword, son of mugruch; i love the blood of cadmor. [he gives her the sword, with which she instantly stabs him.] duchommar. daughter of cormac-carbre, thou hast pierced duchommar! the sword is cold in my breast; thou hast killed the son of mugruch. give me to moinic the maid; for much she loved duchommar. my tomb she will raise on the hill; the hunter shall see it, and praise me.--but draw the sword from my side, morna; i feel it cold.-- [upon her coming near him, he stabs her. as she fell, she plucked a stone from the side of the cave, and placed it betwixt them, that his blood might not be mingled with hers.] xv [ ]where is gealchossa my love, the daughter of tuathal-teachvar? i left her in the hall of the plain, when i fought with the hairy ulfadha. return soon, she said, o lamderg! for here i wait in sorrow. her white breast rose with sighs; her cheek was wet with tears. but she cometh not to meet lamderg; or sooth his soul after battle. silent is the hall of joy; i hear not the voice of the singer. brann does not shake his chains at the gate, glad at the coming of his master. where is gealchossa my love, the daughter of tuathal-teachvar? [footnote: the signification of the names in this fragment are; gealchossack, white-legged. tuathal-teachtmhar, the surly, but fortunate man. lambhdearg, bloodyhand. ulfadba, long beard. fichios, the conqueror of men.] lamderg! says firchios son of aydon, gealchossa may be on the hill; she and her chosen maids pursuing the flying deer. firchios! no noise i hear. no sound in the wood of the hill. no deer fly in my sight; no panting dog pursueth. i see not gealchossa my love; fair as the full moon setting on the hills of cromleach. go, firchios! go to allad, the grey-haired son of the rock. he liveth in the circle of stones; he may tell of gealchossa. [footnote: allad is plainly a druid consulted on this occasion.] allad! saith firchios, thou who dwellest in the rock; thou who tremblest alone; what saw thine eyes of age? i saw, answered allad the old, ullin the son of carbre: he came like a cloud from the hill; he hummed a surly song as he came, like a storm in leafless wood. he entered the hall of the plain. lamderg, he cried, most dreadful of men! fight, or yield to ullin. lamderg, replied gealchoffa, lamderg is not here: he fights the hairy ulfadha; mighty man, he is not here. but lamderg never yields; he will fight the son of carbre. lovely art thou, o daughter of tuathal-teachvar! said ullin. i carry thee to the house of carbre; the valiant shall have gealchossa. three days from the top of cromleach will i call lamderg to fight. the fourth, you belong to ullin, if lamderg die, or fly my sword. allad! peace to thy dreams!--found the horn, firchios!--ullin may hear, and meet me on the top of cromleach. lamderg rushed on like a storm. on his spear he leaped over rivers. few were his strides up the hill. the rocks fly back from his heels; loud crashing they bound to the plain. his armour, his buckler rung. he hummed a surly song, like the noise of the falling stream. dark as a cloud he stood above; his arms, like meteors, shone. from the summit of the hill, he rolled a rock. ullin heard in the hall of carbre.-- celtic folklore welsh and manx by john rhys, m.a., d.litt. hon. ll.d. of the university of edinburgh professor of celtic principal of jesus college, oxford volume ii oxford at the clarendon press mdcccci chapter vii triumphs of the water-world une des légendes les plus répandues en bretagne est celle d'une prétendue ville d'is, qui, à une époque inconnue, aurait été engloutie par la mer. on montre, à divers endroits de la côte, l'emplacement de cette cité fabuleuse, et les pécheurs vous en font d'étranges récits. les jours de tempête, assurent-ils, on voit, dans les creux des vagues, le sommet des flèches de ses églises; les jours de calme, on entend monter de l'abîme le son de ses cloches, modulant l'hymne du jour.--renan. more than once in the last chapter was the subject of submersions and cataclysms brought before the reader, and it may be convenient to enumerate here the most remarkable cases, and to add one or two to their number, as well as to dwell at somewhat greater length on some instances which may be said to have found their way into welsh literature. he has already been told of the outburst of the glasfryn lake (p. ) and ffynnon gywer (p. ), of llyn llech owen (p. ) and the crymlyn (p. ), also of the drowning of cantre'r gwaelod (p. ); not to mention that one of my informants had something to say (p. ) of the submergence of caer arianrhod, a rock now visible only at low water between celynnog fawr and dinas dinlle, on the coast of arfon. but, to put it briefly, it is an ancient belief in the principality that its lakes generally have swallowed up habitations of men, as in the case of llyn syfadon (p. ) and the pool of corwrion (p. ). to these i now proceed to add other instances, to wit those of bala lake, kenfig pool, llynclys, and helig ab glannog's territory including traeth lafan. perhaps it is best to begin with historical events, namely those implied in the encroachment of the sea and the sand on the coast of glamorganshire, from the mumbles, in gower, to the mouth of the ogmore, below bridgend. it is believed that formerly the shores of swansea bay were from three to five miles further out than the present strand, and the oyster dredgers point to that part of the bay which they call the green grounds, while trawlers, hovering over these sunken meadows of the grove island, declare that they can sometimes see the foundations of the ancient homesteads overwhelmed by a terrific storm which raged some three centuries ago. the old people sometimes talk of an extensive forest called coed arian, 'silver wood,' stretching from the foreshore of the mumbles to kenfig burrows, and there is a tradition of a long-lost bridle path used by many generations of mansels, mowbrays, and talbots, from penrice castle to margam abbey. all this is said to be corroborated by the fishing up every now and then in swansea bay of stags' antlers, elks' horns, those of the wild ox, and wild boars' tusks, together with the remains of other ancient tenants of the submerged forest. various references in the registers of swansea and aberavon mark successive stages in the advance of the desolation from the latter part of the fifteenth century down. among others a great sandstorm is mentioned, which overwhelmed the borough of cynffig or kenfig, and encroached on the coast generally: the series of catastrophes seems to have culminated in an inundation caused by a terrible tidal wave in the early part of the year [ ]. to return to kenfig, what remains of that old town is near the sea, and it is on all sides surrounded by hillocks of finely powdered sand and flanked by ridges of the same fringing the coast. the ruins of several old buildings half buried in the sand peep out of the ground, and in the immediate neighbourhood is kenfig pool, which is said to have a circumference of nearly two miles. when the pool formed itself i have not been able to discover: from such accounts as have come in my way i should gather that it is older than the growing spread of the sand, but the island now to be seen in it is artificial and of modern make [ ]. the story relating to the lake is given as follows in the volume of the iolo manuscripts, p. , and the original, from which i translate, is crisp, compressed, and, as i fancy, in iolo's own words:-- 'a plebeian was in love with earl clare's daughter: she would not have him as he was not wealthy. he took to the highway, and watched the agent of the lord of the dominion coming towards the castle from collecting his lord's money. he killed him, took the money, and produced the coin, and the lady married him. a splendid banquet was held: the best men of the country were invited, and they made as merry as possible. on the second night the marriage was consummated, and when happiest one heard a voice: all ear one listened and caught the words, "vengeance comes, vengeance comes, vengeance comes," three times. one asked, "when?" "in the ninth generation (âch)," said the voice. "no reason for us to fear," said the married pair; "we shall be under the mould long before." they lived on, however, and a goresgynnyd, that is to say, a descendant of the sixth direct generation, was born to them, also to the murdered man a goresgynnyd, who, seeing that the time fixed was come, visited kenfig. this was a discreet youth of gentle manners, and he looked at the city and its splendour, and noted that nobody owned a furrow or a chamber there except the offspring of the murderer: he and his wife were still living. at cockcrow he heard a cry, "vengeance is come, is come, is come." it is asked, "on whom?" and answered, "on him who murdered my father of the ninth âch." he rises in terror: he goes towards the city; but there is nothing to see save a large lake with three chimney tops above the surface emitting smoke that formed a stinking.... [ ] on the face of the waters the gloves of the murdered man float to the young man's feet: he picks them up, and sees on them the murdered man's name and arms; and he hears at dawn of day the sound of praise to god rendered by myriads joining in heavenly music. and so the story ends.' on this coast is another piece of water in point, namely crymlyn, or 'crumlin pool,' now locally called the bog. it appears also to have been sometimes called pwll cynan, after the name of a son of rhys ab tewdwr, who, in his flight after his father's defeat on hirwaen wrgan, was drowned in its waters [ ]. it lies on lord jersey's estate, at a distance of about one mile east of the mouth of the tawe, and about a quarter of a mile from high-water mark, from which it is separated by a strip of ground known in the neighbourhood as crymlyn burrows. the name crymlyn means crooked lake, which, i am told, describes the shape of this piece of water. when the bog becomes a pool it encloses an island consisting of a little rocky hillock showing no trace of piles, or walling, or any other handiwork of man [ ]. the story about this pool also is that it covers a town buried beneath its waters. mr. wirt sikes' reference to it has already been mentioned, and i have it on the evidence of a native of the immediate neighbourhood, that he has often heard his father and grandfather talk about the submerged town. add to this that cadrawd, to whom i have had already (pp. , ) to acknowledge my indebtedness, speaks in the columns of the south wales daily news for february , , of crymlyn as follows:-- 'it was said by the old people that on the site of this bog once stood the old town of swansea, and that in clear and calm weather the chimneys and even the church steeple could be seen at the bottom of the lake, and in the loneliness of the night the bells were often heard ringing in the lake. it was also said that should any person happen to stand with his face towards the lake when the wind is blowing across the lake, and if any of the spray of that water should touch his clothes, it would be only with the greatest difficulty he could save himself from being attracted or sucked into the water. the lake was at one time much larger than at present. the efforts made to drain it have drawn a good deal of the water from it, but only to convert it into a bog, which no one can venture to cross except in exceptionally dry seasons or hard frost.' on this i wish to remark in passing, that, while common sense would lead one to suppose that the wind blowing across the water would help the man facing it to get away whenever he chose, the reasoning here is of another order, one characteristic in fact of the ways and means of sympathetic magic. for specimens in point the reader may be conveniently referred to page , where he may compare the words quoted from mr. hartland, especially as to the use there mentioned of stones or pellets thrown from one's hands. in the case of crymlyn, the wind blowing off the face of the water into the onlooker's face and carrying with it some of the water in the form of spray which wets his clothes, howsoever little, was evidently regarded as establishing a link of connexion between him and the body of the water--or shall i say rather, between him and the divinity of the water?--and that this link was believed to be so strong that it required the man's utmost effort to break it and escape being drawn in and drowned like cynan. the statement, supremely silly as it reads, is no modern invention; for one finds that nennius--or somebody else--reasoned in precisely the same way, except that for a single onlooker he substitutes a whole army of men and horses, and that he points the antithesis by distinctly stating, that if they kept their backs turned to the fascinating flood they would be out of danger. the conditions which he had in view were, doubtless, that the men should face the water and have their clothing more or less wetted by the spray from it. the passage (§ ) to which i refer is in the mirabilia, and geoffrey of monmouth is found to repeat it in a somewhat better style of latin (ix. ): the following is the nennian version:-- aliud miraculum est, id est oper linn liguan. ostium fluminis illius fluit in sabrina et quando sabrina inundatur ad sissam, et mare inundatur similiter in ostio supra dicti fluminis et in stagno ostii recipitur in modum voraginis et mare non vadit sursum et est litus juxta flumen et quamdiu sabrina inundatur ad sissam, istud litus non tegitur et quando recedit mare et sabrina, tunc stagnum liuan eructat omne quod devoravit de mari et litus istud tegitur et instar montis in una unda eructat et rumpit. et si fuerit exercitus totius regionis, in qua est, et direxerit faciem contra undam, et exercitum trahit unda per vim humore repletis vestibus et equi similiter trahuntur. si autem exercitus terga versus fuerit contra eam, non nocet ei unda. 'there is another wonder, to wit aber llyn lliwan. the water from the mouth of that river flows into the severn, and when the severn is in flood up to its banks, and when the sea is also in flood at the mouth of the above-named river and is sucked in like a whirlpool into the pool of the aber, the sea does not go on rising: it leaves a margin of beach by the side of the river, and all the time the severn is in flood up to its bank, that beach is not covered. and when the sea and the severn ebb, then llyn lliwan brings up all it had swallowed from the sea, and that beach is covered while llyn lliwan discharges its contents in one mountain-like wave and vomits forth. now if the army of the whole district in which this wonder is, were to be present with the men facing the wave, the force of it would, once their clothes are drenched by the spray, draw them in, and their horses would likewise be drawn. but if the men should have their backs turned towards the water, the wave would not harm them [ ].' one story about the formation of bala lake, or llyn tegid [ ] as it is called in welsh, has been given at p. : here is another which i translate from a version in hugh humphreys' llyfr gwybodaeth gyffredinol (carnarvon), second series, vol. i, no. , p. . i may premise that the contributor, whose name is not given, betrays a sort of literary ambition which has led him to relate the story in a confused fashion; and among other things he uses the word edifeirwch, 'repentance,' throughout, instead of dial, 'vengeance.' with that correction it runs somewhat as follows:--tradition relates that bala lake is but the watery tomb of the palaces of iniquity; and that some old boatmen can on quiet moonlight nights in harvest see towers in ruins at the bottom of its waters, and also hear at times a feeble voice saying, dial a daw, dial a daw, 'vengeance will come'; and another voice inquiring, pa bryd y daw, 'when will it come?' then the first voice answers, yn y dryded genhedlaeth, 'in the third generation.' those voices were but a recollection over oblivion, for in one of those palaces lived in days of yore an oppressive and cruel prince, corresponding to the well-known description of one of whom it is said, 'whom he would he slew; and whom he would he kept alive.' the oppression and cruelty practised by him on the poor farmers were notorious far and near. this prince, while enjoying the morning breezes of summer in his garden, used frequently to hear a voice saying, 'vengeance will come.' but he always laughed the threat away with reckless contempt. one night a poor harper from the neighbouring hills was ordered to come to the prince's palace. on his way the harper was told that there was great rejoicing at the palace at the birth of the first child of the prince's son. when he had reached the palace the harper was astonished at the number of the guests, including among them noble lords, princes, and princesses: never before had he seen such splendour at any feast. when he had begun playing the gentlemen and ladies dancing presented a superb appearance. so the mirth and wine abounded, nor did he love playing for them any more than they loved dancing to the music of his harp. but about midnight, when there was an interval in the dancing, and the old harper had been left alone in a corner, he suddenly heard a voice singing in a sort of a whisper in his ear, 'vengeance, vengeance!' he turned at once, and saw a little bird hovering above him and beckoning him, as it were, to follow him. he followed the bird as fast as he could, but after getting outside the palace he began to hesitate. but the bird continued to invite him on, and to sing in a plaintive and mournful voice the word 'vengeance, vengeance!' the old harper was afraid of refusing to follow, and so they went on over bogs and through thickets, whilst the bird was all the time hovering in front of him and leading him along the easiest and safest paths. but if he stopped for a moment the same mournful note of 'vengeance, vengeance!' would be sung to him in a more and more plaintive and heartbreaking fashion. they had by this time reached the top of the hill, a considerable distance from the palace. as the old harper felt rather fatigued and weary, he ventured once more to stop and rest, but he heard the bird's warning voice no more. he listened, but he heard nothing save the murmuring of the little burn hard by. he now began to think how foolish he had been to allow himself to be led away from the feast at the palace: he turned back in order to be there in time for the next dance. as he wandered on the hill he lost his way, and found himself forced to await the break of day. in the morning, as he turned his eyes in the direction of the palace, he could see no trace of it: the whole tract below was one calm, large lake, with his harp floating on the face of the waters. next comes the story of llynclys pool in the neighbourhood of oswestry. that piece of water is said to be of extraordinary depth, and its name means the 'swallowed court.' the village of llynclys is called after it, and the legend concerning the pool is preserved in verses printed among the compositions of the local poet, john f. m. dovaston, who published his works in . the first stanza runs thus:-- clerk willin he sat at king alaric's board, and a cunning clerk was he; for he'd lived in the land of oxenford with the sons of grammarie. how much exactly of the poem comes from dovaston's own muse, and how much comes from the legend, i cannot tell. take for instance the king's name, this i should say is not derived from the story; but as to the name of the clerk, that possibly is, for the poet bases it on croes-willin, the welsh form of which has been given me as croes-wylan, that is wylan's cross, the name of the base of what is supposed to have been an old cross, a little way out of oswestry on the north side; and i have been told that there is a farm in the same neighbourhood called tre' wylan, 'wylan's stead.' to return to the legend, alaric's queen was endowed with youth and beauty, but the king was not happy; and when he had lived with her nine years he told clerk willin how he first met her when he was hunting 'fair blodwell's rocks among.' he married her on the condition that she should be allowed to leave him one night in every seven, and this she did without his once knowing whither she went on the night of her absence. clerk willin promised to restore peace to the king if he would resign the queen to him, and a tithe annually of his cattle and of the wine in his cellar to him and the monks of the white minster. the king consented, and the wily clerk hurried away with his book late at night to the rocks by the giant's grave, where there was an ogo' or cave which was supposed to lead down to faery. while the queen was inside the cave, he began his spells and made it irrevocable that she should be his, and that his fare should be what fed on the king's meadow and what flowed in his cellar. when the clerk's potent spells forced the queen to meet him to consummate his bargain with the king, what should he behold but a grim ogress, who told him that their spells had clashed. she explained to him how she had been the king's wife for thirty years, and how the king began to be tired of her wrinkles and old age. then, on condition of returning to the ogo to be an ogress one night in seven, she was given youth and beauty again, with which she attracted the king anew. in fact, she had promised him happiness till within his hall the flag-reeds tall and the long green rushes grow. the ogress continued in words which made the clerk see how completely he had been caught in his own net: then take thy bride to thy cloistered bed, as by oath and spell decreed, and nought be thy fare but the pike and the dare, and the water in which they feed. the clerk had succeeded in restoring peace at the king's banqueting board, but it was the peace of the dead; for down went the king, and his palace and all, and the waters now o'er it flow, and already in his hall do the flag-reeds tall and the long green rushes grow. but the visitor will, dovaston says, find willin's peace relieved by the stories which the villagers have to tell of that wily clerk, of croes-willin, and of 'the cave called the grim ogo'; not to mention that when the lake is clear, they will show you the towers of the palace below, the llynclys, which the brython of ages gone by believed to be there. we now come to a different story about this pool, namely, one which has been preserved in latin by the historian humfrey lhuyd, or humphrey llwyd, to the following effect:-- 'after the description of gwynedh, let vs now come to powys, the seconde kyngedome of vvales, which in the time of german altisiodorensis [st. germanus of auxerre], which preached sometime there, agaynst pelagius heresie: was of power, as is gathered out of his life. the kynge wherof, as is there read, bycause he refused to heare that good man: by the secret and terrible iudgement of god, with his palace, and all his householde: was swallowed vp into the bowels of the earth, in that place, whereas, not farre from oswastry, is now a standyng water, of an vnknowne depth, called lhunclys, that is to say: the deuouryng of the palace. and there are many churches founde in the same province, dedicated to the name of german [ ].' i have not succeeded in finding the story in any of the lives of st. germanus, but nennius, § , mentions a certain benli, whom he describes as rex iniquus atque tyrannus valde, who, after refusing to admit st. germanus and his following into his city, was destroyed with all his courtiers, not by water, however, but by fire from heaven. but the name benli, in modern welsh spelling benlli [ ], points to the moel famau range of mountains, one of which is known as moel fenlli, between ruthin and mold, rather than to any place near oswestry. in any case there is no reason to suppose that this story with its christian and ethical motive is anything like so old as the substratum of dovaston's verses. the only version known to me in the welsh language of the llynclys legend is to be found printed in the brython for , p. , and it may be summarized as follows:--the llynclys family were notorious for their riotous living, and at their feasts a voice used to be heard proclaiming, 'vengeance is coming, coming,' but nobody took it much to heart. however, one day a reckless maid asked the voice, 'when?' the prompt reply was to the effect that it was in the sixth generation: the voice was heard no more. so one night, when the sixth heir in descent from the time of the warning last heard was giving a great drinking feast, and music had been vigorously contributing to the entertainment of host and guest, the harper went outside for a breath of air; but when he turned to come back, lo and behold! the whole court had disappeared. its place was occupied by a quiet piece of water, on whose waves he saw his harp floating, nothing more. here must, lastly, be added one more legend of submergence, namely, that supposed to have taken place some time or other on the north coast of carnarvonshire. in the brython for , pp. - , we have what purports to be a quotation from owen jones' aberconwy a'i chyffiniau, 'conway and its environs,' a work which i have not been able to find. here one reads of a tract of country supposed to have once extended from the gogarth [ ], 'the great orme,' to bangor, and from llanfair fechan to ynys seiriol, 'priestholme or puffin island,' and of its belonging to a wicked prince named helig ab glannawc or glannog [ ], from whom it was called tyno helig, 'helig's hollow.' tradition, the writer says, fixes the spot where the court stood about halfway between penmaen mawr and pen y gogarth, 'the great orme's head,' over against trwyn yr wylfa; and the story relates that here a calamity had been foretold four generations before it came, namely as the vengeance of heaven on helig ab glannog for his nefarious impiety. as that ancient prince rode through his fertile heritage one day at the approach of night, he heard the voice of an invisible follower warning him that 'vengeance is coming, coming.' the wicked old prince once asked excitedly, 'when?' the answer was, 'in the time of thy grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and their children.' peradventure helig calmed himself with the thought, that, if such a thing came, it would not happen in his lifetime. but on the occasion of a great feast held at the court, and when the family down to the fifth generation were present taking part in the festivities, one of the servants noticed, when visiting the mead cellar to draw more drink, that water was forcing its way in. he had only time to warn the harper of the danger he was in, when all the others, in the midst of their intoxication, were overwhelmed by the flood. these inundation legends have many points of similarity among themselves: thus in those of llynclys, syfadon, llyn tegid, and tyno helig, though they have a ring of austerity about them, the harper is a favoured man, who always escapes when the banqueters are all involved in the catastrophe. the story, moreover, usually treats the submerged habitations as having sunk intact, so that the ancient spires and church towers may still at times be seen: nay the chimes of their bells may be heard by those who have ears for such music. in some cases there may have been, underlying the legend, a trace of fact such as has been indicated to me by mr. owen m. edwards, of lincoln college, in regard to bala lake. when the surface of that water, he says, is covered with broken ice, and a south-westerly wind is blowing, the mass of fragments is driven towards the north-eastern end near the town of bala; and he has observed that the friction produces a somewhat metallic noise which a quick imagination may convert into something like a distant ringing of bells. perhaps the most remarkable instance remains to be mentioned: i refer to cantre'r gwaelod, as the submerged country of gwydno garanhir is termed, see p. above. to one portion of his fabled realm the nearest actual centres of population are aberdovey and borth on either side of the estuary of the dovey. as bursar of jesus college i had business in in the golden valley of herefordshire, and i stayed a day or two at dorstone enjoying the hospitality of the rectory, and learning interesting facts from the rector, mr. prosser powell, and from mrs. powell in particular, as to the folklore of the parish, which is still in several respects very welsh. mrs. powell, however, did not confine herself to dorstone or the dore valley, for she told me as follows:--'i was at aberdovey in , and i distinctly remember that my childish imagination was much excited by the legend of the city beneath the sea, and the bells which i was told might be heard at night. i used to lie awake trying, but in vain, to catch the echoes of the chime. i was only seven years old, and cannot remember who told me the story, though i have never forgotten it.' mrs. powell added that she has since heard it said, that at a certain stage of the tide at the mouth of the dovey, the way in which the waves move the pebbles makes them produce a sort of jingling noise which has been fancied to be the echo of distant bells ringing. these clues appeared too good to be dropped at once, and the result of further inquiries led mrs. powell afterwards to refer me to the monthly packet for the year , where i found an article headed 'aberdovey legends,' and signed m. b., the initials, mrs. powell thought, of miss bramston of winchester. the writer gives a sketch of the story of the country overflowed by the neighbouring portion of cardigan bay, mentioning, p. , that once on a time there were great cities on the banks of the dovey and the disynni. 'cities with marble wharfs,' she says, 'busy factories, and churches whose towers resounded with beautiful peals and chimes of bells.' she goes on to say that 'mausna is the name of the city on the dovey; its eastern suburb was at the sand-bank now called borth, its western stretched far out into the sea.' what the name mausna may be i have no idea, unless it is the result of some confusion with that of the great turbary behind borth, namely mochno, or cors fochno, 'bog of mochno.' the name borth stands for y borth, 'the harbour,' which, more adequately described, was once porth wydno, 'gwydno's harbour.' the writer, however, goes on with the story of the wicked prince, who left open the sluices of the sea-wall protecting his country and its capital: we read on as follows:--'but though the sea will not give back that fair city to light and air, it is keeping it as a trust but for a time, and even now sometimes, though very rarely, eyes gazing down through the green waters can see not only the fluted glistering sand dotted here and there with shells and tufts of waving sea-weed, but the wide streets and costly buildings of that now silent city. yet not always silent, for now and then will come chimes and peals of bells, sometimes near, sometimes distant, sounding low and sweet like a call to prayer, or as rejoicing for a victory. even by day these tones arise, but more often they are heard in the long twilight evenings, or by night. english ears have sometimes heard these sounds even before they knew the tale, and fancied that they must come from some church among the hills, or on the other side of the water, but no such church is there to give the call; the sound and its connexion is so pleasant, that one does not care to break the spell by seeking for the origin of the legend, as in the idler tales with which that neighbourhood abounds.' the dream about 'the wide streets and costly buildings of that now silent city' seems to have its counterpart on the western coast of erin--somewhere, let us say, off the cliffs of moher [ ], in county clare--witness gerald griffin's lines, to which a passing allusion has already been made, p. :-- a story i heard on the cliffs of the west, that oft, through the breakers dividing, a city is seen on the ocean's wild breast, in turreted majesty riding. but brief is the glimpse of that phantom so bright: soon close the white waters to screen it. the allusion to the submarine chimes would make it unpardonable to pass by unnoticed the well-known welsh air called clychau aberdyfi, 'the bells of aberdovey,' which i have always suspected of taking its name from fairy bells [ ]. this popular tune is of unknown origin, and the words to which it is usually sung make the bells say un, dau, tri, pedwar, pump, chwech, 'one, two, three, four, five, six'; and i have heard a charming welsh vocalist putting on saith, 'seven,' in her rendering of the song. this is not to be wondered at, as her instincts must have rebelled against such a commonplace number as six in a song redolent of old-world sentiment. but our fairy bells ought to have stopped at five: this would seem to have been forgotten when the melody and the present words were wedded together. at any rate our stories seem to suggest that fairy counting did not go beyond the fingering of one hand. the only welsh fairy represented counting is made to do it all by fives: she counts un, dau, tri, pedwar, pump; un, dau, tri, pedwar, pump, as hard as her tongue can go. for on the number of times she can repeat the five numerals at a single breath depends the number of the live stock of each kind, which are to form her dowry: see p. above, and as to music in fairy tales, see pp. , , . now that a number of our inundation stories have been passed in review in this and the previous chapter, some room may be given to the question of their original form. they separate themselves, as it will have been seen, into at least two groups: ( ) those in which the cause of the catastrophe is ethical, the punishment of the wicked and dissolute; and ( ) those in which no very distinct suggestion of the kind is made. it is needless to say that everything points to the comparative lateness of the fully developed ethical motive; and we are not forced to rest content with this theoretical distinction, for in more than one of the instances we have the two kinds of story. in the case of llyn tegid, the less known and presumably the older story connects the formation of the lake with the neglect to keep the stone door of the well shut, while the more popular story makes the catastrophe a punishment for wicked and riotous living: compare pp. , , above. so with the older story of cantre'r gwaelod, on which we found the later one of the tipsy seithennin as it were grafted, p. . the keeping of the well shut in the former case, as also in that of ffynnon gywer, was a precaution, but the neglect of it was not the cause of the ensuing misfortune. even if we had stories like the irish ones, which make the sacred well burst forth in pursuit of the intruder who has gazed into its depths, it would by no means be of a piece with the punishment of riotous and lawless living. our comparison should rather be with the story of the curse of pantannas, where a man incurred the wrath of the fairies by ploughing up ground which they wished to retain as a green sward; but the threatened vengeance for that act of culture did not come to pass for a century, till the time of one, in fact, who is not charged with having done anything to deserve it. the ethics of that legend are, it is clear, not easy to discover, and in our inundation stories one may trace stages of development from a similarly low level. the case may be represented thus: a divinity is offended by a man, and for some reason or other the former wreaks his vengeance, not on the offender, but on his descendants. this minimum granted, it is easy to see, that in time the popular conscience would fail to rest satisfied with the cruel idea of a jealous divinity visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children. one may accordingly distinguish the following stages:-- . the legend lays it down as a fact that the father was very wicked. . it makes his descendants also wicked like him. . it represents the same punishment overtaking father and sons, ancestor and descendants. . the simplest way to secure this kind of equal justice was, no doubt, to let the offending ancestors live on to see their descendants of the generation for whose time the vengeance had been fixed, and to let them be swept away with them in one and the same cataclysm, as in the welsh versions of the syfadon and kenfig legends, possibly also in those of llyn tegid and tyno helig, which are not explicit on this point. let us for a moment examine the indications of the time to which the vengeance is put off. in the case of the landed families of ancient wales, every member of them had his position and liabilities settled by his pedigree, which had to be exactly recorded down to the eighth generation or eighth lifetime in gwyned, and to the seventh in gwent and dyfed. those generations were reckoned the limits of recognized family relationship according to the welsh laws, and to keep any practical reckoning of the kind, extending always back some two centuries, must have employed a class of professional men [ ]. in any case the ninth generation, called in welsh y nawfed âch, which is a term in use all over the principality at the present day, is treated as lying outside all recognized kinship. thus if ab wishes to say that he is no relation to cd, he will say that he is not related o fewn y nawfed âch, 'within the ninth degree,' or hyd y nawfed âch, 'up to the ninth degree,' it being understood that in the ninth degree and beyond it no relationship is reckoned. folklore stories, however, seem to suggest another interpretation of the word âch, and fewer generations in the direct line as indicated in the following table. for the sake of simplicity the founder of the family is here assumed to have at least two sons, a and b, and each succeeding generation to consist of one son only; and lastly the women are omitted altogether:-- tâd i (father) brother a : ii : b mâb (son) : : i cousin aa : iii : ba wyr (grandson) : : ii cousin ab : iv : bb gorwyr (great-grandson) : : iii cousin ac : v : bc esgynnyd (g.g.grandson) : : iv cousin ad : vi : bd goresgynnyd (g.g.g.grandson). in reckoning the relationships between the collateral members of the family, one counts not generations or begettings, not removes or degrees, but ancestry or the number of ancestors, so that the father or founder of the family only counts once. thus his descendants ad and bd in the sixth generation or lifetime, are fourth cousins separated from one another by nine ancestors: that is, they are related in the ninth âch. in other words, ad has five ancestors and bd has also five, but as they have one ancestor in common, the father of the family, they are not separated by + ancestors, but by + - , that is by . similarly, one being always subtracted, the third cousins ac and bc are related in the seventh âch, and the second cousin in the fifth âch: so with the others in odd numbers downwards, and also with the relatives reckoned upwards to the seventh or eighth generation, which would mean collaterals separated by eleven or thirteen ancestors respectively. this reckoning, which is purely conjectural, is based chiefly on the kenfig story, which foretold the vengeance to come in the ninth âch and otherwise in the time of the goresgynnyd, that is to say in the sixth lifetime. this works out all right if only by the ninth âch we understand the generation or lifetime when the collaterals are separated by nine ancestors, for that is no other than the sixth from the founder of the family. the welsh version of the llynclys legend fixes on the same generation, as it says yn oes wyrion, gorwyrion, esgynnyd a goresgynnyd, 'in the lifetime of grandsons, great-grandsons, ascensors, and their children,' for these last's time is the sixth generation. in the case of the syfadon legend the time of the vengeance is the ninth cenhedlaeth or generation, which must be regarded as probably a careless way of indicating the generation when the collaterals are separated by nine ancestors, that is to say the sixth from the father of the family. it can hardly have the other meaning, as the sinning ancestors are represented as then still living. the case of the tyno helig legend is different, as we have the time announced to the offending ancestor described as amser dy wyrion, dy orwyrion, a dy esgynydion, 'the time of thy grandsons, thy great-grandsons, and thy ascensors,' which would be only the fifth generation with collaterals separated only by seven ancestors, and not nine. but the probability is that goresgynydion has been here accidentally omitted, and that the generation indicated originally was the same as in the others. this, however, will not explain the bala legend, which fixes the time for the third generation, namely, immediately after the birth of the offending prince's first grandson. if, however, as i am inclined to suppose, the sixth generation with collaterals severed by nine ancestors was the normal term in these stories, it is easy to understand that the story-teller might wish to substitute a generation nearer to the original offender, especially if he was himself to be regarded as surviving to share in the threatened punishment: his living to see the birth of his first grandson postulated no extraordinary longevity. the question why fairy vengeance is so often represented deferred for a long time can no longer be put off. here three or four answers suggest themselves:-- . the story of the curse of pantannas relates how the offender was not the person punished, but one of his descendants a hundred or more years after his time, while the offender is represented escaping the fairies' vengeance because he entreated them very hard to let him go unpunished. all this seems to me but a sort of protest against the inexorable character of the little people, a protest, moreover, which was probably invented comparatively late. . the next answer is the very antithesis of the pantannas one; for it is, that the fairies delay in order to involve all the more men and women in the vengeance wreaked by them: i confess that i see no reason to entertain so sinister an idea. . a better answer, perhaps, is that the fairies were not always in a position to harm him who offended them. this may well have been the belief as regards any one who had at his command the dreaded potency of magic. take for instance the irish story of a king of erin called eochaid airem, who, with the aid of his magician or druid dalán, defied the fairies, and dug into the heart of their underground station, until, in fact, he got possession of his queen, who had been carried thither by a fairy chief named mider. eochaid, assisted by his druid and the powerful ogams which the latter wrote on rods of yew, was too formidable for the fairies, and their wrath was not executed till the time of eochaid's unoffending grandson, conaire mór, who fell a victim to it, as related in the epic story of bruden dáderga, so called from the palace where conaire was slain [ ]. . lastly, it may be said that the fairies being supposed deathless, there would be no reason why they should hurry; and even in case the delay meant a century or two, that makes no perceptible approach to the extravagant scale of time common enough in our fairy tales, when, for instance, they make a man who has whiled ages away in fairyland, deem it only so many minutes [ ]. whatever the causes may have been which gave our stories their form in regard of the delay in the fairy revenge, it is clear that welsh folklore could not allow this delay to extend beyond the sixth generation with its cousinship of nine ancestries, if, as i gather, it counted kinship no further. had one projected it on the seventh or the eighth generation, both of which are contemplated in the laws, it would not be folklore. it would more likely be the lore of the landed gentry and of the powerful families whose pedigrees and ramifications of kinship were minutely known to the professional men on whom it was incumbent to keep themselves, and those on whom they depended, well informed in such matters. it remains for me to consider the non-ethical motive of the other stories, such as those which ascribe negligence and the consequent inundation to the woman who has the charge of the door or lid of the threatening well. her negligence is not the cause of the catastrophe, but it leaves the way open for it. what then can have been regarded the cause? one may gather something to the point from the irish story where the divinity of the well is offended because a woman has gazed into its depths, and here probably, as already suggested (p. ), we come across an ancient tabu directed against women, which may have applied only to certain wells of peculiarly sacred character. it serves, however, to suggest that the divinities of the water-world were not disinclined to seize every opportunity of extending their domain on the earth's surface; and i am persuaded that this was once a universal creed of some race or other in possession of these islands. besides the irish legends already mentioned (pp. , ) of the formation of lough neagh, lough ree, and others, witness the legendary annals of early ireland, which, by the side of battles, the clearing of forests, and the construction of causeways, mention the bursting forth of lakes and rivers; that is to say, the formation or the coming into existence, or else the serious expansion, of certain of the actual waters of the country. for the present purpose the details given by the four masters are sufficient, and i have hurriedly counted their instances as follows:-- anno mundi , number of the lakes formed, . ,, ,, , ,, ,, ,, lakes ,, . ,, ,, , ,, ,, ,, lakes ,, . ,, ,, , ,, ,, ,, lakes ,, . ,, ,, , ,, ,, ,, lakes ,, . ,, ,, , ,, ,, ,, lakes ,, . ,, ,, , ,, ,, ,, lakes ,, . ,, ,, , ,, ,, ,, rivers ,, . ,, ,, , ,, ,, ,, lakes ,, . ,, ,, , ,, ,, ,, rivers ,, . ,, ,, , ,, ,, ,, rivers ,, . ,, ,, , ,, ,, ,, lakes ,, . ,, ,, , ,, ,, ,, rivers ,, . ,, ,, , ,, ,, ,, lakes ,, . ,, ,, , ,, ,, ,, rivers ,, . ,, ,, , ,, ,, ,, lakes ,, . ,, ,, , ,, ,, ,, rivers ,, . ,, ,, , ,, ,, ,, lakes ,, . this makes an aggregate of thirty-five lakes and forty-six rivers, that is to say a total of eighty-one eruptions. but i ought, perhaps, to explain that under the head of lakes i have included not only separate pieces of water, but also six inlets of the sea, such as strangford lough and the like. still more to the point is it to mention that of the lakes two are said to have burst forth at the digging of graves. thus, a.m. , the four masters have the following: 'laighlinne, son of parthalon, died in this year. when his grave was dug, loch laighlinne sprang forth in ui mac uais, and from him it is named [ ].' o'donovan, the editor and translator of the four masters, supposes it to be somewhere to the south-west of tara, in meath. similarly, a.m. , they say of a certain melghe molbthach, 'when his grave was digging, loch melghe burst forth over the land in cairbre, so that it was named from him.' this is said to be now called lough melvin, on the confines of the counties of donegal, leitrim, and fermanagh. these two instances are mentioned by the four masters; and here is one given by stokes in the rennes dindsenchas: see the revue celtique, xv. - . it has to do with loch garman, as wexford harbour was called in irish, and it runs thus: 'loch garman, whence is it? easy to say. garman glas, son of dega, was buried there, and when his grave was dug then the lake burst throughout the land. whence loch garman.' it matters not here that there are alternative accounts of the name. the meaning of all this seems to be that cutting the green sward or disturbing the earth beneath was believed in certain cases to give offence to some underground divinity or other connected with the world of waters. that divinity avenged the annoyance or offence given him by causing water to burst forth and form a lake forthwith. the nearness of such divinities to the surface seems not a little remarkable, and it is shown not only in the folklore which has been preserved for us by the four masters, but also by the usual kind of story about a neglected well door. these remarks suggest the question whether it was not one of the notions which determined surface burials, that is, burials in which no cutting of the ground took place, the cists or chambers and the bodies placed in them being covered over by the heaping on of earth or stones brought from a more or less convenient distance. it might perhaps be said that all this only implied individuals of a character to desecrate the ground and call forth the displeasure of the divinities concerned; and for that suggestion folklore parallels, it is true, could be adduced. but it is hardly adequate: the facts seem to indicate a more general objection on the part of the powers in point; and they remind one rather of the clause said to be inserted in mining leases in china with the object, if one may trust the newspapers, of preventing shafts from being sunk below a certain depth, for fear of offending the susceptibilities of the demons or dragons ruling underground. it is interesting to note the fact, that celtic folklore connects the underground divinities intimately with water; for one may briefly say that they have access wherever water can take them. with this qualification the belief may be said to have lingered lately in wales, for instance, in connexion with llyn barfog, near aberdovey. 'it is believed to be very perilous,' mr. pughe says, p. above, 'to let the waters out of the lake'; and not long before he wrote, in , an aged inhabitant of the district informed him 'that she recollected this being done during a period of long drought, in order to procure motive power for llyn pair mill, and that long-continued heavy rains followed.' then we have the story related to mr. reynolds as to llyn y fan fach, how there emerged from the water a huge hairy fellow of hideous aspect, who stormed at the disturbers of his peace, and uttered the threat that unless they left him alone in his own place he would drown a whole town. thus the power of the water spirit is represented as equal to producing excessive wet weather and destructive floods. he is in all probability not to be dissociated from the afanc in the conwy story which has already been given (pp. - ). now the local belief is that the reason why the afanc had to be dragged out of the river was that he caused floods in the river and made it impossible for people to cross on their way to market at llanrwst. some such a local legend has been generalized into a sort of universal flood story in the late triad, iii. , as follows:--'three masterpieces of the isle of prydain: the ship of nefyd naf neifion, that carried in her male and female of every kind when the lake of llïon burst; and hu the mighty's ychen bannog dragging the afanc of the lake to land, so that the lake burst no more; and the stones of gwydon ganhebon, on which one read all the arts and sciences of the world.' a story similar to the conwy one, but no longer to be got so complete, as far as i know, seems to have been current in various parts of the principality, especially around llyn syfadon and on the banks of the anglesey pool called llyn yr wyth eidion, 'the pool of the eight oxen,' for so many is hu represented here as requiring in dealing with the anglesey afanc. according to mr. pughe of aberdovey, the same feat was performed at llyn barfog, not, however, by hu and his oxen, but by arthur and his horse. to be more exact the task may be here considered as done by arthur superseding hu: see p. above. that, however, is of no consequence here, and i return to the afanc: the fan fach legend told to mr. reynolds makes the lake ruler huge and hairy, hideous and rough-spoken, but he expresses himself in human speech, in fact in two lines of doggerel: see p. above. on the other hand, the llyn cwm llwch story, which puts the same doggerel, p. , into the mouth of the threatening figure in red who sits in a chair on the face of that lake, suggests nothing abnormal about his personal appearance. then as to the conwy afanc, he is very heavy, it is true, but he also speaks the language of the country. he is lured, be it noticed, out of his home in the lake by the attractions of a young woman, who lets him rest his head in her lap and fall asleep. when he wakes to find himself in chains he takes a cruel revenge on her. but with infinite toil and labour he is dragged beyond the conwy watershed into one of the highest tarns on snowdon; for there is here no question of killing him, but only of removing him where he cannot harm the people of the conwy valley. it is true that the story of peredur represents that knight cutting an afanc's head off, but so much the worse for the compiler of that romance, as we have doubtless in the afanc some kind of a deathless being. however, the description which the peredur story gives [ ] of him is interesting: he lives in a cave at the door of which is a stone pillar: he sees everybody that comes without anybody seeing him; and from behind the pillar he kills all comers with a poisoned spear. hitherto we have the afanc described mostly from a hostile point of view: let us change our position, which some of the stories already given enable us to do. take for instance the first of the whole series, where it describes, p. , the fan fach youth's despair when the lake damsel, whose love he had gained, suddenly dived to fetch her father and her sister. there emerged, it says, out of the lake two most beautiful ladies, accompanied by a hoary-headed man of noble mien and extraordinary stature, but having otherwise all the force and strength of youth. this hoary-headed man of noble mien owned herds of cattle and flocks of sheep, a number of which were allowed to come out of the lake to form his daughter's dowry, as the narrative goes on to show. in the story of llyn du'r ardu, p. , he has a consort who appears with him to join in giving the parental sanction to the marriage which their daughter was about to make with the snowdon shepherd. in neither of these stories has this extraordinary figure any name given him, and it appears prima facie probable that the term afanc is rather one of abuse in harmony with the unlovely description of him supplied by the other stories. but neither in them does the term yr afanc suit the monster meant, for there can be no doubt that in the word afanc we have the etymological equivalent of the irish word abacc, 'a dwarf'; and till further light is shed on these words one may assume that at one time afanc also meant a dwarf or pigmy in welsh. in modern welsh it has been regarded as meaning a beaver, but as that was too small an animal to suit the popular stories, the word has been also gravely treated as meaning a crocodile [ ]: this is in the teeth of the unanimous treatment of him as anthropomorphic in the legends in point. if one is to abide by the meaning dwarf or pigmy, one is bound to regard afanc as one of the terms originally applied to the fairies in their more unlovely aspects: compare the use of crimbil, p. . here may also be mentioned pegor, 'a dwarf or pigmy,' which occurs in the book of taliessin, poem vii. (p. ):-- gog n py pegor i know what (sort of) pigmy yssyd ydan vor. there is beneath the sea. gogwn eu heissor i know their kind, pa b yny oscord. each in his troop. also the following lines in the twelfth-century manuscript of the black book of carmarthen: see evans' autotype facsimile, fo. b:-- ar gnyuer pegor and every dwarf y ssit y dan mor. there is beneath the sea, ar gnyuer edeinauc and every winged thing aoruc kyuoethauc. the mighty one hath made, ac vei. vei. paup. and were there to each tri trychant tauaud thrice three hundred tongues-- nyellynt ve traethaud. they could not relate kyuoetheu [y] trindaud the powers of the trinity. i should rather suppose, then, that the pigmies in the water-world were believed to consist of many grades or classes, and to be innumerable like the luchorpáin of irish legend, which were likewise regarded as diminutive. with the luchorpáin were also associated [ ] fomori or fomoraig (modern irish spelling fomhoraigh), and goborchinn, 'horse-heads.' the etymology of the word fomori has been indicated at p. above, but irish legendary history has long associated it with muir, 'sea,' genitive mara, welsh mor, and it has gone so far as to see in them, as there suggested, not submarine but transmarine enemies and invaders of ireland. so the singular fomor, now written fomhor, is treated in o'reilly's irish dictionary as meaning 'a pirate, a sea robber, a giant,' while in highland gaelic, where it is written fomhair or famhair, it is regularly used as the word for giant. the manx gaelic corresponding to irish fomor and its derivative fomorach, is foawr, 'a giant,' and foawragh, 'gigantic,' but also 'a pirate.' i remember hearing, however, years ago, a mention made of the fomhoraigh, which, without conveying any definite allusion to their stature, associated them with subterranean places:--an undergraduate from the neighbourhood of killorglin, in kerry, happened to relate in my hearing, how, when he was exploring some underground ráths near his home, he was warned by his father's workmen to beware of the fomhoraigh. but on the borders of the counties of mayo and sligo i have found the word used as in the scottish highlands, namely, in the sense of giants, while dr. douglas hyde and others inform me that the giant's causeway is called in irish clochán na bh-fomhorach. the goborchinns or horse-heads have also an interest, not only in connexion with the fomori, as when we read of a king of the latter called eocha eachcheann [ ], or eochy horse-head, but also as a link between the welsh afanc and the highland water-horse, of whom campbell has a good deal to say in his popular tales of the west highlands. see more especially iv. , where he remarks among other things, that 'the water-horse assumes many shapes; he often appears as a man,' he adds, 'and sometimes as a large bird.' a page or two earlier he gives a story which illustrates the statement, at the same time that it vividly reminds one of that part of the conwy legend which (p. ) represents the afanc resting his head on the lap of the damsel forming one of the dramatis personæ. here follows campbell's own story, omitting all about a marvellous bull, however, that was in the end to checkmate the water-horse:-- 'a long time after these things a servant girl went with the farmer's herd of cattle to graze them at the side of a loch, and she sat herself down near the bank. there, in a little while, what should she see walking towards her but a man, who asked her to fasg his hair [welsh lleua]. she said she was willing enough to do him that service, and so he laid his head on her knee, and she began to array his locks, as neapolitan damsels also do by their swains. but soon she got a great fright, for growing amongst the man's hair, she found a great quantity of liobhagach an locha, a certain slimy green weed [ ] that abounds in such lochs, fresh, salt, and brackish. the girl knew that if she screamed there was an end of her, so she kept her terror to herself, and worked away till the man fell asleep as he was with his head on her knee. then she untied her apron strings, and slid the apron quietly on to the ground with its burden upon it, and then she took her feet home as fast as it was in her heart [ ]. now when she was getting near the houses, she gave a glance behind her, and there she saw her caraid (friend) coming after her in the likeness of a horse.' the equine form belongs also more or less constantly to the kelpie of the lowlands of scotland and of the isle of man, where we have him in the glashtyn, whose amorous propensities are represented as more repulsive than what appears in welsh or irish legend: see p. above, and the lioar manninagh for , p. . perhaps in man and the highlands the horsy nature of this being has been reinforced by the influence of the norse nykr, a northern proteus or old nick, who takes many forms, but with a decided preference for that of 'a gray water-horse': see vigfusson's icelandic-english dictionary. but the idea of associating the equine form with the water divinity is by no means confined to the irish and the northern nations: witness the greek legend of the horse being of poseidon's own creation, and the beast whose form he sometimes assumed. it is in this sort of a notion of a water-horse one is probably to look for the key to the riddle of such conceptions as that of march ab meirchion, the king with horse's ears, and the corresponding irish figure of labraid lorc [ ]. in both of these the brute peculiarities are reduced almost to a minimum: both are human in form save their ears alone. the name labraid lorc is distinct enough from the welsh march, but under this latter name one detects traces of him with the horse's ears in wales, cornwall, and brittany [ ]. we have also probably the same name in the morc of irish legend: at any rate morc, marc, or margg, seems to be the same name as the welsh march, which is no other word than march, 'a steed or charger.' now the irish morc is not stated to have had horse's ears, but he and another called conaing are represented in the legendary history of early erin as the naval leaders of the fomori, a sort of position which would seem to fit the brythonic march also were he to be treated in earnest as an historical character. but short of that another treatment may be suspected of having been actually dealt out to him, namely, that of resolving the water-horse into a horse and his master. of this we seem to have two instances in the course of the story of the formation of lough neagh in the book of the dun cow, fo. - :-- there was once a good king named maired reigning over munster, and he had two sons, eochaid and rib. he married a wife named ebliu (genitive eblinde), who fell in love with her stepson, eochaid. the two brothers make up their minds to leave their father and to take ebliu with them, together with all that was theirs, including in all a thousand men. they proceed northwards, but their druids persuade them that they cannot settle down in the same district, so rib goes westwards to a plain known as tír cluchi midir acus maic Óic, 'the play-ground of mider and the mac Óc,' so called after the two great fairy chiefs of ireland. mider visits rib's camp and kills their horses, then he gives them a big horse of his own ready harnessed with a pack-saddle. they had to put all their baggage on the big horse's back and go away, but after a while the nag lay down and a well of water formed there, which eventually burst forth, drowning them all: this is loch ri, 'rib's loch, or lough ree,' on the shannon. eochaid, the other brother, went with his party to the banks of the boyne near the brug, where the fairy chief mac Óc or mac ind Óc had his residence: he destroyed eochaid's horses the first night, and the next day he threatened to destroy the men themselves unless they went away. thereupon eochaid said that they could not travel without horses, so the mac Óc gave them a big horse, on whose back they placed all they had. the mac Óc warned them not to unload the nag on the way, and not to let him halt lest he should be their death. however, when they had reached the middle of ulster, they thoughtlessly took all their property off the horse's back, and nobody bethought him of turning the animal's head back in the direction from which they had come: so he also made a well [ ]. over that well eochaid had a house built, and a lid put on the well, which he set a woman to guard. in the sequel she neglected it, and the well burst forth and formed lough neagh, as already mentioned, p. above. what became of the big horses in these stories one is not told, but most likely they were originally represented as vanishing in a spring of water where each of them stood. compare the account of undine at her unfaithful husband's funeral. in the procession she mysteriously appeared as a snow-white figure deeply veiled, but when one rose from kneeling at the grave, where she had knelt nought was to be seen save a little silver spring of limpid water bubbling out of the turf and trickling on to surround the new grave:--da man sich aber wieder erhob, war die weisse fremde verschwunden; an der stelle, wo sie geknieet hatte, quoll ein silberhelles brünnlein aus dem rasen; das rieselte und rieselte fort, bis es den grabhügel des ritters fast ganz umzogen hatte; dann rann es fürder und ergoss sich in einen weiher, der zur seite des gottesackers lag. the late and grotesque story of the gilla decair may be mentioned next: he was one of the fomorach, and had a wonderful kind of horse on whose back most of finn's chief warriors were induced to mount. then the gilla decair and his horse hurried towards corkaguiny, in kerry, and took to the sea, for he and his horse travelled equally well on sea and land. thus finn's men, unable to dismount, were carried prisoners to an island not named, on which dermot in quest of them afterwards landed, and from which, after great perils, he made his way to tír fo thuinn, 'terra sub unda,' and brought his friends back to erin [ ]. now the number of finn's men taken away by force by the gilla decair was fifteen, fourteen on the back of his horse and one clutching to the animal's tail, and the welsh triads, i. = ii. , seem to re-echo some similar story, but they give the number of persons not as fifteen but just one half, and describe the horse as du (y) moroed, 'the black of (the) seas,' steed of elidyr mwynfawr, that carried seven human beings and a half from pen llech elidyr in the north to pen llech elidyr in môn, 'anglesey.' it is explained that du carried seven on his back, and that one who swam with his hands on that horse's crupper was reckoned the half man in this case. du moroed is in the story of kulhwch and olwen called du march moro, 'black the steed of moro,' the horse ridden in the hunt of twrch trwyth by gwyn ab nud, king of the other world; and he appears as a knight with his name unmistakably rendered into brun de morois in the romance of durmart le galois, who carries away arthur's queen on his horse to his castle in morois [ ]. lastly, here also might be mentioned the incident in the story of peredur or perceval, which relates how to that knight, when he was in the middle of a forest much distressed for the want of a horse, a lady brought a fine steed as black as a blackberry. he mounted and he found his beast marvellously swift, but on his making straight for a vast river the knight made the sign of the cross, whereupon he was left on the ground, and his horse plunged into the water, which his touch seemed to set ablaze. the horse is interpreted to have been the devil [ ], and this is a fair specimen of the way in which celtic paganism is treated by the grail writers when they feel in the humour to assume an edifying attitude. if one is right in setting môn, 'anglesey,' over against the anonymous isle to which the gilla decair hurries finn's men away, anglesey would have to be treated as having once been considered one of the islands of the dead and the home of other-world inhabitants. we have a trace of this in a couplet in a poem by the medieval poet, dafyd ab gwilym, who makes blodeuwed the owl give a bit of her history as follows:-- merch i arglwyd, ail meirchion, wyf i, myn dewi! o fon [ ]. daughter to a lord, son of meirchion, am i, by st. david! from mona. this, it will be seen, connects march ab meirchion, as it were 'steed son of steeding,' with the isle of anglesey. add to this that the irish for anglesey or mona was móin conaing, 'conaing's swamp,' so called apparently after conaing associated with morc, a name which is practically march in welsh. both were leaders of the fomori in irish tales: see my arthurian legend, p. . on the great place given to islands in celtic legend and myth it is needless here to expatiate: witness brittia, to which procopius describes the souls of the departed being shipped from the shores of the continent, the isle of avallon in the romances, that of gwales in the mabinogion, ynys enlli or bardsey, in which merlin and his retinue enter the glass house [ ], and the island of which we read in the pages of plutarch, that it contains cronus held in the bonds of perennial sleep [ ]. let us return to the more anthropomorphic figure of the afanc, and take as his more favoured representative the virile personage described emerging from the fan fach lake to give his sanction to the marriage of his daughter with the mydfai shepherd. it is probable that a divinity of the same order belonged to every other lake of any considerable dimensions in the country. but it will be remembered that in the case of the story of llyn du'r ardu two parents appeared with the lake maiden--her father and her mother--and we may suppose that they were divinities of the water-world. the same thing also may be inferred from the late triad, iii. , which speaks of the bursting of the lake of llïon, causing all the lands to be inundated so that all the human race was drowned except dwyfan and dwyfach, who escaped in a mastless ship: it was from them that the island of prydain was repeopled. a similar triad, iii. , but evidently of a different origin, has already been mentioned as speaking of the ship of nefyd naf neifion, that carried in it a male and female of every kind when the lake of llïon burst. this later triad evidently supplies what had been forgotten in the previous one, namely, a pair of each kind of animal life, and not of mankind alone. but from the names dwyfan and dwyfach i infer that the writer of triad iii. has developed his universal deluge on the basis of the scriptural account of it, for those names belonged in all probability to wells and rivers: in other terms, they were the names of water divinities. at any rate there seems to be some evidence that two springs, whose waters flow into bala lake, were at one time called dwyfan and dwyfach, these names being borne both by the springs themselves and the rivers flowing from them. the dwyfan and the dwyfach were regarded as uniting in the lake, while the water on its issuing from the lake is called dyfrdwy. now dyfrdwy stands for an older dyfr-dwyf, which in old welsh was dubr duiu, 'the water of the divinity.' one of the names of that divinity was donwy, standing for an early form danuvios or danuvia, according as it was masculine or feminine. in either case it was practically the same name as that of the danube or danuvios, derived from a word which is represented in irish by the adjective dána, 'audax, fortis, intrepidus.' the dee has in welsh poetry still another name, aerfen, which seems to mean a martial goddess or the spirit of the battlefield, which is corroborated and explained by giraldus [ ], who represents the river as the accredited arbiter of the fortunes of the wars in its country between the welsh and the english. the name dyfrdonwy occurs in a poem by llywarch brydyd y moch, a poet who flourished towards the end of the twelfth century, as follows [ ]:-- nid kywiw [ ] a llwfyr dwfyr dyfyrdonwy kereist oth uebyd gwryd garwy. with a coward dyfrdonwy water ill agrees: from thy boyhood hast thou loved garwy's valour. the prince praised was llywelyn ab iorwerth, whom the poet seems to identify here with the dee, and it looks as if the water of the dee formed some sort of a test which no coward could face: compare the case of the discreet cauldron that would not boil meat for a coward [ ]. the dwy, dwyf, duiu, of the river's welsh name represent an early form deva or deiva, whence the romans called their station on its banks deva, possibly as a shortening of ad devam; but that deva should have simply and directly meant the river is rendered probable by the fact that ptolemy elsewhere gives it as the name of the northern dee, which enters the sea near aberdeen. from the same stem were formed the names dwyf-an and dwyf-ach, which are treated in the triads as masculine and feminine respectively. in its course the welsh dee receives a river ceirw not far above corwen, and that river flows through farms called ar-dwyfan and hendre' ar-dwyfan, and adjoining ardwyfan is another farm called foty ardwyfan, 'shielings of ardwyfan,' while hendre' ardwyfan means the old stead or winter abode of ardwyfan. ardwyfan itself would seem to mean 'on dwyfan,' and hendre' ardwyfan, which may be supposed the original homestead, stands near a burn which flows into the ceirw. that burn i should suppose to have been the dwyfan, and perhaps the name extended to the ceirw itself; but dwyfan is not now known as the name of any stream in the neighbourhood. elsewhere we have two rivers called dwyfor or dwyfawr and dwyfach, which unite a little below the village of llan ystumdwy; and from there to the sea, the stream is called dwyfor, the mouth of which is between criccieth and afon wen, in carnarvonshire. ystumdwy, commonly corrupted into stindwy, seems to mean ystum-dwy, 'the bend of the dwy'; so that here also we have dwyfach and dwy, as in the case of the dee. possibly dwyfor was previously called simply dwy or even dwyfan; but it is now explained as dwy-fawr, 'great dwy,' which was most likely suggested by dwyfach, as this latter explains itself to the country people as dwy-fach, 'little dwy.' however, it is but right to say that in llywelyn ab gruffyd's grant of lands to the monks of aber conwy they seem to be called dwyuech and dwyuaur [ ]. all these waters have in common the reputation of being liable to sudden and dangerous floods, especially the dwyfor, which drains cwm strallyn and its lake lying behind the great rocky barrier on the left as one goes from tremadoc towards aber glaslyn bridge. still more so is this the case with the dee and bala lake, which is wont to rise at times from seven to nine feet above its ordinary level. the inundation which then invades the valley from bala down presents a sight more magnificent than comfortable to contemplate. in fact nothing could have been more natural than for the story elaborated by the writer of certain of the late triads to have connected the most remarkable inundations with the largest piece of water in the principality, and one liable to such sudden changes of level: in other words, that one should treat llyn llïon as merely one of the names of bala lake, now called in welsh llyn tegid, and formerly sometimes llyn aerfen. while touching at p. on gwaen llifon with its llyn pencraig as one of those claiming to be the llyn llïon of the triads, it was hinted that llïon was but a thinner form of llifon. here one might mention perhaps another llifon, for which, however, no case could be made. i allude to the name of the residence of the wynns descended from gilmin troeddu, namely, glyn llifon, which means the river llifon's glen; but one could not feel surprised if the neighbouring llyfni, draining the lakes of nantlle, should prove to have once been also known as a llifon, with the nantlle waters conforming by being called llyn llifon. but however that may be, one may say as to the flood caused by the bursting of any such lake, that the notion of the universality of the catastrophe was probably contributed by the author of triad iii. , from a non-welsh source. he may have, however, not invented the vessel in which he places dwyfan and dwyfach: at all events, one version of the story of the fan fach represents the lake lady arriving in a boat. as to the writer of the other triad, iii. , he says nothing about dwyfan and his wife, but borrows nefyd naf neifion's ship to save all that were to be saved; and here one may probably venture to identify nefyd with nemed [ ], genitive nemid, a name borne in irish legend by a rover who is represented as one of the early colonizers of erin. as to the rest, the name neifion by itself is used in welsh for neptune and the sea, as in the following couplet of d. ab gwilym's poem lv:-- nofiad a wnaeth hen neifion it is old neptune that has swam o droia fawr draw i fôn. from great troy afar to mona. in the same way môr neifion, 'sea of neifion,' seems to have signified the ocean, the high seas. to return to the triad about dwyfan and dwyfach, not only does it make them from being water divinities into a man and woman, but there is no certainty even that both were not feminine. in modern welsh all rivers are treated as feminine, and even dyfrdwyf has usually to submit, though the modern bard tegid, analysing the word into dwfr dwyf, 'water of the divinity or divine water,' where dwfr, 'water,' could only be masculine, addressed llyn tegid thus, p. : drwyot, er dydiau'r drywon, y rhwyf y dyfrdwyf ei don. through thee, from the days of the druids, the dwfr dwyf impels his wave. this question, however, of the gender of river names, or rather the sex which personification ascribed them, is a most difficult one. if we glance at ptolemy's geography written in the second century, we find in his account of the british isles that he names more than fifty of our river mouths and estuaries, and that he divides their names almost equally into masculine and feminine. the modern welsh usage has, it is seen, departed far from this, but not so far the folklore: the afanc is a male, and we have a figure of the same sex appearing as the father of the lake maiden in the fan fach story, and in that of llyn du'r ardu; the same, too, was the sex of the chief dweller of llyn cwm llwch; the same remark is applicable also to the greatest divinity of these islands--the greatest, at any rate, so far as the scanty traces of his cult enable one to become acquainted with him. as his name comes down into legend it belongs here, as well as to the deities of antiquity, just as much, in a sense, as the dee. i refer to nudons or nodons, the remains [ ] of whose sanctuary were many years ago brought to light on a pleasant hill in lydney park, on the western banks of the severn. in the mosaic floor of the god's temple there is a coloured inscription showing the expense of that part of the work to have been defrayed by the contributions (ex stipibus) of the faithful, and that it was carried out by two men, of whom one appears to have been an officer in command of a naval force guarding the coasts of the severn sea. in the midst of the mosaic inscription is a round opening in the floor of nine inches in diameter and surrounded by a broad band of red enclosed in two of blue. this has given rise to various speculations, and among others that it was intended for libations. the mosaics and the lettering of the inscriptions seem to point to the third century as the time when the sanctuary of nudons was built under roman auspices, though the place was doubtless sacred to the god long before. in any case it fell in exactly with the policy of the more astute of roman statesmen to encourage such a native cult as we find traces of in lydney park. one of the inscriptions began with d. m. nodonti, 'to the great god nudons,' and a little bronze crescent intended for the diadem of the god or of one of his priests gives a representation of him as a crowned, beardless personage driving a chariot with four horses; and on either side of him is a naked figure supposed to represent the winds, and beyond them on each of the two sides is a triton with the fore feet of a horse. the god holds the reins in his left hand, and his right uplifted grasps what may be a sceptre or possibly a whip, while the whole equipment of the god recalls in some measure the chariot of the sun. another piece of the bronze ornament shows another triton with an anchor in one of his hands, and opposite him a fisherman in the act of hooking a fine salmon. other things, such as oars and shell trumpets, together with mosaic representations of marine animals in the floor of the temple, compel us to assimilate nudons more closely with neptune than any other god of classical mythology. the name of the god, as given in the inscriptions, varies between nudons and nodens, the cases actually occurring being the dative nodonti, nodenti, and nudente, and the genitive nodentis, so i should regard o or u as optional in the first syllable, and o as preferable, perhaps, to e in the second, for there is no room for reasonably doubting that we have here to do with the same name as irish nuadu, genitive nuadat, conspicuous in the legendary history of ireland. now the nuadu who naturally occurs to one first, was nuadu argetlám or nuadu of the silver hand, from argat, 'silver, argentum,' and lám, 'hand.' irish literature explains how he came to have a hand made of silver, and we can identify with him on welsh ground a llud llawereint; for put back as it were into earlier brythonic, this would be ludo(ns) lam'-argentios: that is to say, a reversal takes place in the order of the elements forming the epithet out of ereint (for older ergeint), 'silvern, argenteus,' and llaw, for earlier lama, 'hand.' then comes the alliterative instinct into play, forcing nudo(ns) lamargentio(s) to become ludo(ns) lamargentio(s), whence the later form, llud llawereint, derives regularly [ ]. thus we have in welsh the name llûd, fashioned into that form under the influence of the epithet, whereas elsewhere it is nûd, which occurs as a man's name in the pedigrees, while an intermediate form was probably nudos or nudo, of which a genitive nvdi occurs in a post-roman inscription found near yarrow kirk in selkirkshire. it is worthy of note that the modification of nudo into ludo must have taken place comparatively early--not improbably while the language was still goidelic--as we seem to have a survival of the name in that of lydney itself. it is very possible that we have ludo, llud, also in porthlud; which geoffrey of monmouth gives, iii. , as the welsh for ludesgata or ludgate, in london, which gate, according to him, was called after an ancient king of britain named lud. he seems to have been using an ancient tradition, and there would be nothing improbable in the conjecture that geoffrey's lud was our llud, and that the great water divinity of that name had another sanctuary on the hill by the thames, somewhere near the present site of st. paul's cathedral, and occupying a post as it were prophetic of britain's rule of the water-ways in later times. perhaps as one seems to find traces of nudons from the estuary of the thames to that of the severn and thence to ireland, one may conclude that the god was one of the divinities worshipped by the goidels. with regard to the brythonic celts, there is nothing to suggest that he belonged also to them except in the sense of his having been probably adopted by them from the goidels. it might be further suggested that the goidels themselves had in the first instance adopted him from the pre-celtic natives, but in that case a goddess would have been rather more probable [ ]. in fact in the case of the severn we seem to have a trace of such a goddess in the sabrina, old welsh habren, now hafren, so called after a princess whom geoffrey, ii. , represents drowned in the river: she may have been the pre-celtic goddess of the severn, and the name corresponding to welsh hafren occurs in ireland in the form of sabrann, an old name of the river lee that flows through cork. similarly one now reads sometimes of father thames after the fashion of classic phraseology, and in the celtic period nudons may have been closely identified with that river, but the ancient name tamesa or tamesis [ ] was decidedly feminine, and it was, most likely, that of the river divinity from times when the pre-celtic natives held exclusive possession of these islands. on the whole it appears safer to regard nudons as belonging to a race that had developed on a larger scale the idea of a patriarchal or kingly ruler holding sway over a comparatively wide area. so nudons may here be treated as ruled out of the discussion as to the origin of the fairies, to which a few paragraphs are now to be devoted. speaking of the rank and file of the fairies in rather a promiscuous fashion, one may say that we have found manifold proof of their close connexion with the water-world. not only have we found them supposed to haunt places bordering on rivers, to live beneath the lakes, or to inhabit certain green isles capable of playing hide-and-seek with the ancient mariner, and perhaps not so very ancient either; but other considerations have been suggested as also pointing unmistakably to the same conclusion. take for instance the indirect evidence afforded by the method of proceeding to recover an infant stolen by the fairies. one account runs thus: the mother who had lost her baby was to go with a wizard and carry with her to a river the child left her in exchange. the wizard would say, crap ar y wrach, 'grip the hag,' and the woman would reply, rhy hwyr, gyfraglach, 'too late, you urchin [ ].' before she uttered those words she had dropped the urchin into the river, and she would then return to her house. by that time the kidnapped child would be found to have come back home [ ]. the words here used have not been quite forgotten in carnarvonshire, but no distinct meaning seems to be attached to them now; at any rate i have failed to find anybody who could explain them. i should however guess that the wizard addressed his words to the fairy urchin with the intention, presumably, that the fairies in the river should at the same time hear and note what was about to be done. another, and a somewhat more intelligible version, is given in the gwyliedyd for , p. , by a contributor who publishes it from a manuscript which lewis morris began to write in and finished apparently in . he was a native of anglesey, and it is probably to that county the story belongs, which he gives to illustrate one of the phonological aspects of certain kinds of welsh. that account differs from the one just cited in that it introduces no wizard, but postulates two fairy urchins between whom the dialogue occurs, which is not unusual in our changeling stories: see p. . after this explanation i translate morris' words thus:-- 'but to return to the question of the words approaching to the nature of the thing intended, there is an old story current among us concerning a woman whose children had been exchanged by the tylwyth teg. whether it is truth or falsehood does not much matter, yet it shows what the men of that age thought concerning the sound of words, and how they fancied that the language of those sprites was of a ghastly and lumpy kind. the story is as follows:--the woman whose two children had been exchanged, chanced to overhear the two fairy heirs, whom she got instead of them, reasoning with one another beyond what became their age and persons. so she picked up the two sham children, one under each arm, in order to go and throw them from a bridge into a river, that they might be drowned as she fancied. but hardly had the one in his fall reached the bottom when he cried out to his comrade in the following words:-- grippiach greppiach grippiach greppiach, dal d'afel yn y wrach, keep thy hold on the hag. hi aeth yn rhowyr 'faglach-- it got too late, thou urchin-- mi eis i ir mwthlach [ ].' i fell into the.... in spite of the obscurity of these words, it is quite clear that it was thought the most natural thing in the world to return the fairies to the river, and no sooner were they dropped there than the right infants were found to have been sent home. the same thing may be learned also from the story of the curse of pantannas, pp. - above; for when the time of the fairies' revenge is approaching, the merry party gathered together at pantannas are frightened by a piercing voice rising from a black and cauldron-like pool in the river; and after a while they hear it a second time rising above the noise of the river as it cascades over the shoulder of a neighbouring rock. shortly afterwards an ugly, diminutive woman appears on the table near the window, and had it not been for the rudeness of one of those present she would have disclosed the future to them, but, as it was, she said very little in a vague way and went away offended; but as long as she was there the voice from the river was silent. here we have the welsh counterpart of the ben síde, pronounced banshee in anglo-irish, and meaning a fairy woman who is supposed to appear to certain irish families before deaths or other misfortunes about to befall them. it is doubtless to some such fairy persons the voices belong, which threaten vengeance on the heir of pantannas and on the wicked prince and his descendants previous to the cataclysm which brings a lake into the place of a doomed city: witness such cases as those of llynclys, syfadon, and kenfig. the last mentioned deserves some further scrutiny; and i take this opportunity of referring the reader back to pp. - , in order to direct his attention to the fact that the voice so closely identifies itself with the wronged family that it speaks in the first person, as it cries, 'vengeance is come on him who murdered my father of the ninth generation!' now it is worthy of remark that the same personifying is also characteristic of the cyhiraeth [ ]. this spectral female used to be oftener heard than seen; but her blood-freezing shriek was as a rule to be heard when she came to a cross-road or to water, in which she splashed with her hands. at the same time she would make the most doleful noise and exclaim, in case the frightened hearer happened to be a wife, fy ngwr, fy ngwr! 'my husband, my husband!' if it was the man the exclamation would be, fy ngwraig, fy ngwraig! 'my wife, my wife!' or in either case it might be, fy mhlentyn, fy mhlentyn, fy mhlentyn bach! 'my child, my child, my little child!' these cries meant the approaching death of the hearer's husband, wife, or child, as the case might be; but if the scream was inarticulate it was reckoned probable that the hearer himself was the person foremourned. sometimes she was supposed to come, like the irish banshee, in a dark mist to the window of a person who has been long ailing, and to flap her wings against the glass, while repeating aloud his or her name, which was believed to mean that the patient must die [ ]. the picture usually given of the cyhiraeth is of the most repellent kind: tangled hair, long black teeth, wretched, skinny, shrivelled arms of unwonted length out of all proportion to the body. nevertheless it is, in my opinion, but another aspect of the banshee-like female who intervenes in the story of the curse of pantannas. one might perhaps treat both as survivals of a belief in a sort of personification of, or divinity identified with, a family or tribe, but for the fact that such language is emptied of most of its meaning by the abstractions which it would connect with a primitive state of society. so it is preferable, as coming probably near the truth, to say that what we have here is a trace of an ancestress. such an idea of an ancestress as against that of an ancestor is abundantly countenanced by dim figures like that of the dôn of the mabinogion, and of her counterpart, after whom the tribes of the goddess donu or danu [ ] are known as tuatha dé danann in irish literature. but the one who most provokes comparison is the old woman of beare, already mentioned, pp. - : she figures largely in irish folklore as a hag surviving to see her descendants reckoned by tribes and peoples. it may be only an accident that a poetically wrought legend pictures her not so much interested in the fortunes of her progeny as engaged in bewailing the unattractive appearance of her thin arms and shrivelled hands, together with the general wreck of the beauty which had been hers some time or other centuries before. however, the evidence of folklore is not of a kind to warrant our building any heavy superstructure of theory on the supposition, that the foundations are firmly held together by a powerful sense of consistency or homogeneity. so i should hesitate to do anything so rash as to pronounce the fairies to be all of one and the same origin: they may well be of several. for instance, there may be those that have grown out of traditions about an aboriginal pre-celtic race, and some may be the representatives of the ghosts of departed men and women, regarded as one's ancestors; but there can hardly be any doubt that others, and those possibly not the least interesting, have originated in the demons and divinities--not all of ancestral origin--with which the weird fancy of our remote forefathers peopled lakes and streams, bays and creeks and estuaries. perhaps it is not too much to hope that the reader is convinced that in the course of this chapter some interesting specimens have, so to say, been caught in their native element, or else in the enjoyment of an amphibious life of mirth and frolic, largely spent hard by sequestered lakes, near placid rivers or babbling brooks. chapter viii welsh cave legends ekei mentoi mian einai nêson, en hê ton kronon katheirchthai phrouroumenon hypo tou briareô katheudonta; desmon gar autô ton hypnon memêchanêsthai, pollous de peri auton einai daimonas opadous kai therapontas.--plutarch. in previous chapters sundry allusions have been made to treasure caves besides that of marchlyn mawr, which has been given at length on pp. - above. here follow some more, illustrative of this kind of folklore prevalent in wales: they are difficult to classify, but most of them mention treasure with or without sleeping warriors guarding it. the others are so miscellaneous as to baffle any attempt to characterize them generally and briefly. take for instance a cave in the part of rhiwarth rock nearest to cwm llanhafan, in the neighbourhood of llangynog in montgomeryshire. into that, according to cyndelw in the brython for , p. , some men penetrated as far as the pound of candles lasted, with which they had provided themselves; but it appears to be tenanted by a hag who is always busily washing clothes in a brass pan. or take the following, from j. h. roberts' essay, as given in welsh in edwards' cymru for , p. : it reminds one of an ordinary fairy tale, but it is not quite like any other which i happen to know:--in the western end of the arennig fawr there is a cave: in fact there are several caves there, and some of them are very large too; but there is one to which the finger of tradition points as an ancient abode of the tylwyth teg. about two generations ago, the shepherds of that country used to be enchanted by one of them called mary, who was remarkable for her beauty. many an effort was made to catch her or to meet her face to face, but without success, as she was too quick on her feet. she used to show herself day after day, and she might be seen, with her little harp, climbing the bare slopes of the mountain. in misty weather when the days were longest in summer, the music she made used to be wafted by the breeze to the ears of the love-sick shepherds. many a time had the boys of the filltir gerrig heard sweet singing when passing the cave in the full light of day, but they were subject to some spell, so that they never ventured to enter. but the shepherd of boch y rhaiadr had a better view of the fairies one allhallows night (ryw noson calangaeaf) when returning home from a merry-making at amnod. on the sward in front of the cave what should he see but scores of the tylwyth teg singing and dancing! he never saw another assembly in his life so fair, and great was the trouble he had to resist being drawn into their circles. let us now come to the treasure caves, and begin with ogof arthur, 'arthur's cave,' in the southern side of mynyd y cnwc [ ] in the parish of llangwyfan, on the south-western coast of anglesey. the foot of mynyd y cnwc is washed by the sea, and the mouth of the cave is closed by its waters at high tide, but the cave, which is spacious, has a vent-hole in the side of the mountain [ ]. so it is at any rate reported in the brython for , p. , by a writer who explored the place, though not to the end of the mile which it is said to measure in length. he mentions a local tradition, that it contains various treasures, and that it temporarily afforded arthur shelter in the course of his wars with the gwydelod or goidels. but he describes also a cromlech on the top of mynyd y cnwc, around which there was a circle of stones, while within the latter there lies buried, it is believed, an iron chest full of ancient gold. various attempts are said to have been made by the more greedy of the neighbouring inhabitants to dig it up, but they have always been frightened away by portents. here then the guardians of the treasure are creatures of a supernatural kind, as in many other instances, and especially that of dinas emrys to be mentioned presently. next comes the first of a group of cave legends involving treasure entrusted to the keeping of armed warriors. it is taken from elijah waring's recollections and anecdotes of edward williams, iolo morgannwg (london, ), pp. - , where it is headed 'a popular tale in glamorgan, by iolo morgannwg'; a version of it in welsh will be found in the brython for , p. , but waring's version is in several respects better, and i give it in his words:--'a welshman walking over london bridge, with a neat hazel staff in his hand, was accosted by an englishman, who asked him whence he came. "i am from my own country," answered the welshman, in a churlish tone. "do not take it amiss, my friend," said the englishman; "if you will only answer my questions, and take my advice, it will be of greater benefit to you than you imagine. that stick in your hand grew on a spot under which are hid vast treasures of gold and silver; and if you remember the place, and can conduct me to it, i will put you in possession of those treasures." 'the welshman soon understood that the stranger was what he called a cunning man, or conjurer, and for some time hesitated, not willing to go with him among devils, from whom this magician must have derived his knowledge; but he was at length persuaded to accompany him into wales; and going to craig-y-dinas [rock of the fortress], the welshman pointed out the spot whence he had cut the stick. it was from the stock or root of a large old hazel: this they dug up, and under it found a broad flat stone. this was found to close up the entrance into a very large cavern, down into which they both went. in the middle of the passage hung a bell, and the conjurer earnestly cautioned the welshman not to touch it. they reached the lower part of the cave, which was very wide, and there saw many thousands of warriors lying down fast asleep in a large circle, their heads outwards, every one clad in bright armour, with their swords, shields, and other weapons lying by them, ready to be laid hold on in an instant, whenever the bell should ring and awake them. all the arms were so highly polished and bright, that they illumined the cavern, as with the light of ten thousand flames of fire. they saw amongst the warriors one greatly distinguished from the rest by his arms, shield, battle-axe, and a crown of gold set with the most precious stones, lying by his side. 'in the midst of this circle of warriors they saw two very large heaps, one of gold, the other of silver. the magician told the welshman that he might take as much as he could carry away of either the one or the other, but that he was not to take from both the heaps. the welshman loaded himself with gold: the conjurer took none, saying that he did not want it, that gold was of no use but to those who wanted knowledge, and that his contempt of gold had enabled him to acquire that superior knowledge and wisdom which he possessed. in their way out he cautioned the welshman again not to touch the bell, but if unfortunately he should do so, it might be of the most fatal consequence to him, as one or more of the warriors would awake, lift up his head, and ask if it was day. "should this happen," said the cunning man, "you must, without hesitation, answer no, sleep thou on; on hearing which he will again lay down his head and sleep." in their way up, however, the welshman, overloaded with gold, was not able to pass the bell without touching it--it rang--one of the warriors raised up his head, and asked, "is it day?" "no," answered the welshman promptly, "it is not, sleep thou on;" so they got out of the cave, laid down the stone over its entrance, and replaced the hazel tree. the cunning man, before he parted from his companion, advised him to be economical in the use of his treasure; observing that he had, with prudence, enough for life: but that if by unforeseen accidents he should be again reduced to poverty, he might repair to the cave for more; repeating the caution, not to touch the bell if possible, but if he should, to give the proper answer, that it was not day, as promptly as possible. he also told him that the distinguished person they had seen was arthur, and the others his warriors; and they lay there asleep with their arms ready at hand, for the dawn of that day when the black eagle and the golden eagle should go to war, the loud clamour of which would make the earth tremble so much, that the bell would ring loudly, and the warriors awake, take up their arms, and destroy all the enemies of the cymry, who afterwards should repossess the island of britain, re-establish their own king and government at caerlleon, and be governed with justice, and blessed with peace so long as the world endures. 'the time came when the welshman's treasure was all spent: he went to the cave, and as before overloaded himself. in his way out he touched the bell: it rang: a warrior lifted up his head, asking if it was day, but the welshman, who had covetously overloaded himself, being quite out of breath with labouring under his burden, and withal struck with terror, was not able to give the necessary answer; whereupon some of the warriors got up, took the gold away from him, and beat him dreadfully. they afterwards threw him out, and drew the stone after them over the mouth of the cave. the welshman never recovered the effects of that beating, but remained almost a cripple as long as he lived, and very poor. he often returned with some of his friends to craig-y-dinas; but they could never afterwards find the spot, though they dug over, seemingly, every inch of the hill.' this story of iolo's closes with a moral, which i omit in order to make room for what he says in a note to the effect, that there are two hills in glamorganshire called craig-y-dinas--nowadays the more usual pronunciation in south wales is craig y dinas--one in the parish of llantrissant and the other in ystrad dyfodwg. there was also a hill so called, iolo says, in the vale of towy, not far from carmarthen. he adds that in glamorgan the tale is related of the carmarthenshire hill, while in carmarthenshire the hill is said to be in glamorgan. according to iolo's son, taliesin williams [ ] or taliesin ab iolo, the craig y dinas with which the cave of arthur (or owen lawgoch) is associated is the one on the borders of glamorgan and brecknockshire. that is also the opinion of my friend mr. reynolds, who describes this craig and dinas as a very bold rocky eminence at the top of the neath valley, near pont ned fechan. he adds that in this tale as related to his mother 'in her very young days' by a very old woman, known as mari shencin y clochyd 'jenkin the sexton's mary,' the place of arthur was taken by owen lawgoch, 'owen of the red hand,' of whom more anon. the next arthurian story is not strictly in point, for it makes no allusion to treasure; but as it is otherwise so similar to iolo's tale i cannot well avoid introducing it here. it is included in the composite story of bwca 'r trwyn, 'the bogie of the nose,' written out for me in gwentian welsh by mr. craigfryn hughes. the cave portion relates how a monmouthshire farmer, whose house was grievously troubled by the bogie, set out one morning to call on a wizard who lived near caerleon, and how he on his way came up with a very strange and odd man who wore a three-cornered hat. they fell into conversation, and the strange man asked the farmer if he should like to see something of a wonder. he answered he would. 'come with me then,' said the wearer of the cocked hat, 'and you shall see what nobody else alive to-day has seen.' when they had reached the middle of a wood this spiritual guide sprang from horseback and kicked a big stone near the road. it instantly moved aside to disclose the mouth of a large cave; and now said he to the farmer, 'dismount and bring your horse in here: tie him up alongside of mine, and follow me so that you may see something which the eyes of man have not beheld for centuries.' the farmer, having done as he was ordered, followed his guide for a long distance: they came at length to the top of a flight of stairs, where two huge bells were hanging. 'now mind,' said the warning voice of the strange guide, 'not to touch either of those bells.' at the bottom of the stairs there was a vast chamber with hundreds of men lying at full length on the floor, each with his head reposing on the stock of his gun. 'have you any notion who these men are?' 'no,' replied the farmer, 'i have not, nor have i any idea what they want in such a place as this.' 'well,' said the guide, 'these are arthur's thousand soldiers reposing and sleeping till the kymry have need of them. now let us get out as fast as our feet can carry us.' when they reached the top of the stairs, the farmer somehow struck his elbow against one of the bells so that it rang, and in the twinkling of an eye all the sleeping host rose to their feet shouting together, 'are the kymry in straits?' 'not yet: sleep you on,' replied the wearer of the cocked hat, whereupon they all dropped down on their guns to resume their slumbers at once. 'these are the valiant men,' he went on to say, 'who are to turn the scale in favour of the kymry when the time comes for them to cast the saxon yoke off their necks and to recover possession of their country.' when the two had returned to their horses at the mouth of the cave, his guide said to the farmer, 'now go in peace, and let me warn you on the pain of death not to utter a syllable about what you have seen for the space of a year and a day: if you do, woe awaits you.' after he had moved the stone back to its place the farmer lost sight of him. when the year had lapsed the farmer happened to pass again that way, but, though he made a long and careful search, he failed completely to find the stone at the mouth of the cave. to return to iolo's yarn, one may say that there are traces of his story as at one time current in merionethshire, but with the variation that the welshman met the wizard not on london bridge but at a fair at bala, and that the cave was somewhere in merioneth: the hero was arthur, and the cave was known as ogof arthur. whether any such cave is still known i cannot tell; but a third and interestingly told version is given in the brython for , p. , by the late gwynionyd, who gives the story as the popular belief in his native parish of troed yr aur, halfway between newcastle emlyn and aber porth, in south cardiganshire. in this last version the hero is not arthur, but the later man as follows:--not the least of the wonders of imagination wont to exercise the minds of the old people was the story of owen lawgoch. one sometimes hears sung in our fairs the words:-- yr owain hwn yw harri 'r nawfed syd yn trigo 'ngwlad estronied, &c. this owen is henry the ninth, who tarries in a foreign land, &c. but this owen lawgoch, the national deliverer of our ancient race of brythons, did not, according to the troed yr aur people, tarry in a foreign land, but somewhere in wales, not far from offa's dyke. they used to say that one dafyd meirig of bettws bledrws, having quarrelled with his father, left for lloegr [ ], 'england.' when he had got a considerable distance from home, he struck a bargain with a cattle dealer to drive a herd of his beasts to london. somewhere at the corner of a vast moor dafyd cut a very remarkable hazel stick; for a good staff is as essential to the vocation of a good drover as teeth are to a dog. so while his comrades had had their sticks broken before reaching london, dafyd's remained as it was, and whilst they were conversing together on london bridge a stranger accosted dafyd, wishing to know where he had obtained that wonderful stick. he replied that it was in wales he had had it, and on the stranger's assuring him that there were wondrous things beneath the tree on which it had grown, they both set out for wales. when they reached the spot and dug a little they found that there was a great hollow place beneath. as night was spreading out her sable mantle, and as they were getting deeper, what should they find but stairs easy to step and great lamps illumining the vast chamber! they descended slowly, with mixed emotions of dread and invincible desire to see the place. when they reached the bottom of the stairs, they found themselves near a large table, at one end of which they beheld sitting a tall man of about seven foot. he occupied an old-fashioned chair and rested his head on his left hand, while the other hand, all red, lay on the table and grasped a great sword. he was withal enjoying a wondrously serene sleep; and at his feet on the floor lay a big dog. after casting a glance at them, the wizard said to dafyd: 'this is owen lawgoch, who is to sleep on till a special time, when he will wake and reign over the brythons. that weapon in his hand is one of the swords of the ancient kings of prydain. no battle was ever lost in which that sword was used.' then they moved slowly on, gazing at the wonders of that subterranean chamber; and they beheld everywhere the arms of ages long past, and on the table thousands of gold pieces bearing the images of the different kings of prydain. they got to understand that it was permitted them to take a handful of each, but not to put any in their purses. they both visited the cave several times, but at last dafyd put in his purse a little of the gold bearing the image of one of the bravest of owen's ancestors. but after coming out again they were never able any more to find owen's subterranean palace. those are, says gwynionyd, the ideas cherished by the old people of troed yr aur in keredigion, and the editor adds a note that the same sort of story is current among the peasantry of cumberland, and perhaps of other parts of britain. this remark will at once recall to the reader's mind the well-known verses [ ] of the scottish poet, leyden, as to arthur asleep in a cave in the eildon hills in the neighbourhood of melrose abbey. but he will naturally ask why london bridge is introduced into this and iolo's story, and in answer i have to say, firstly, that london bridge formerly loomed very large in the popular imagination as one of the chief wonders of london, itself the most wonderful city in the world. such at any rate was the notion cherished as to london and london bridge by the country people of wales, even within my own memory. secondly, the fashion of selecting london bridge as the opening scene of a treasure legend had been set, perhaps, by a widely spread english story to the following effect:--a certain pedlar of swaffham in norfolk had a dream, that if he went and stood on london bridge he would have very joyful news; as the dream was doubled and trebled he decided to go. so he stood on the bridge two or three days, when at last a shopkeeper, observing that he loitered there so long, neither offering anything for sale nor asking for alms, inquired of him as to his business. the pedlar told him his errand, and was heartily laughed at by the shopkeeper, who said that he had dreamt that night that he was at a place called swaffham in norfolk, and that if he only dug under a great oak tree in an orchard behind a pedlar's house there, he would find a vast treasure; but the place was utterly unknown to him, and he was not such a fool as to follow a silly dream. no, he was wiser than that; so he advised the pedlar to go home to mind his business. the pedlar very quietly took in the words as to the dream, and hastened home to swaffham, where he found the treasure in his own orchard. the rest of the story need not be related here, as it is quite different from the welsh ones, which the reader has just had brought under his notice [ ]. to return to owen lawgoch, for we have by no means done with him: on the farm of cil yr ychen there stands a remarkable limestone hill called y dinas, 'the fortress,' hardly a mile to the north of the village of llandybïe, in carmarthenshire. this dinas and the lime-kilns that are gradually consuming it are to be seen on the right from the railway as you go from llandeilo to llandybïe. it is a steep high rock which forms a very good natural fortification, and in the level area on the top is the mouth of a very long cavern, known as ogo'r dinas, 'the dinas cave.' the entrance into it is small and low, but it gradually widens out, becoming in one place lofty and roomy with several smaller branch caves leading out of it; and it is believed that some of them connect ogo'r dinas with smaller caves at pant y llyn, 'the lake hollow,' where, as the name indicates, there is a small lake a little higher up: both ogo'r dinas and pant y llyn are within a mile of the village of llandybïe [ ]. now i am informed, in a letter written in by one native, that the local legend about ogo'r dinas is that owen lawgoch and his men are lying asleep in it, while another native, mr. fisher, writing in the same year, but on the authority of somewhat later hearsay, expresses himself as follows:--'i remember hearing two traditions respecting ogo'r dinas: ( ) that king arthur and his warriors lie sleeping in it with their right hands clasping the hilts of their drawn swords ready to encounter anyone who may venture to disturb their repose--is there not a dinas somewhere in carnarvonshire with a similar legend? ( ) that owen lawgoch lived in it some time or other: that is all that i remember having heard about him in connection with this ogof.' mr. fisher proceeds, moreover, to state that it is said of an ogof at pant y llyn, that owen lawgoch and his men on a certain occasion took refuge in it, where they were shut up and starved to death. he adds that, however this may be, it is a fact that in the year ten or more human skeletons of unusual stature were discovered in an ogof there [ ]. to this i may append a reference to the geninen for , p. , where mr. lleufer thomas, who is also a native of the district, alludes to the local belief that owen lawgoch and his men are asleep, as already mentioned, in the cave of pant y llyn, and that they are to go on sleeping there till a trumpet blast and the clash of arms on rhiw goch rouse them to sally forth to combat the saxons and to conquer, as set forth by howells: see p. above. it is needless to say that there is no reason, as will be seen presently, to suppose owen lawgoch to have ever been near any of the caves to which allusion has here been made; but that does not appreciably detract from the fascination of the legend which has gathered round his personality; and in passing i may be allowed to express my surprise that in such stories as these the earlier owen has not been eclipsed by owen glyndwr: there must be some historical reason why that has not taken place. can it be that a habit of caution made welshmen speak of owen lawgoch when the other owen was really meant? the passage i have cited from mr. fisher's letter raises the question of a dinas in carnarvonshire, which that of his native parish recalled to his mind; and this is to be considered next. doubtless he meant dinas emrys formerly called din emreis [ ], 'the fortress of ambrosius,' situated near bedgelert, and known in the neighbourhood simply as y dinas, 'the fort.' it is celebrated in the vortigern legend as the place where the dragons had been hidden, that frustrated the building of that king's castle; and the spot is described in lewis' topographical dictionary of wales, in the article on bethgelart (bed-celert), as an isolated rocky eminence with an extensive top area, which is defended by walls of loose stones, and accessible only on one side. he adds that the entrance appears to have been guarded by two towers, and that within the enclosed area are the foundations of circular buildings of loose stones forming walls of about five feet in thickness. concerning that dinas we read in the brython for , p. , a legend to the following effect:--now after the departure of vortigern, myrdin, or merlin as he is called in english, remained himself in the dinas for a long time, until, in fact, he went away with emrys ben-aur, 'ambrosius the gold-headed'--evidently aurelius ambrosius is meant. when he was about to set out with the latter, he put all his treasure and wealth into a crochan aur, 'a gold cauldron,' and hid it in a cave in the dinas, and on the mouth of the cave he rolled a huge stone, which he covered up with earth and sods, so that it was impossible for any one to find it. he intended this wealth to be the property of some special person in a future generation, and it is said that the heir to it is to be a youth with yellow hair and blue eyes. when that one comes near to the dinas a bell will ring to invite him to the cave, which will open of itself as soon as his foot touches it. now the fact that some such legend was once currently believed about bedgelert and nanhwynain is proved by the curious stories as to various attempts made to find the treasure, and the thunderstorms and portents which used to vanquish the local greed for gold. for several instances in point see the brython, pp. - ; and for others, showing how hidden treasure is carefully reserved for the right sort of heir, see p. above. to prove how widely this idea prevailed in carnarvonshire, i may add a short story which mrs. williams-ellis of glasfryn got from the engineer who told her of the sacred eel of llangybi (p. ):--there was on pentyrch, the hill above llangybi, he said, a large stone so heavy and fixed so fast in the ground that no horses, no men could move it: it had often been tried. one day, however, a little girl happened to be playing by the stone, and at the touch of her little hand the stone moved. a hoard of coins was found under it, and that at a time when the little girl's parents happened to be in dire need of it. search had long been made by undeserving men for treasure supposed to be hidden at that spot; but it was always unsuccessful until the right person touched the stone to move. the failure of the wrong person to secure the treasure, even when discovered, is illustrated by a story given by mr. derfel hughes in his antiquities of llandegai and llanllechid, pp. - , to the effect that a servant man, somewhere up among the mountains near ogwen lake, chanced to come across the mouth of a cave with abundance of vessels of brass (pres) of every shape and description within it. he went at once and seized one of them, but, alas! it was too heavy for him to stir it. so he resolved to go away and return early on the morrow with a friend to help him; but before going he closed the mouth of the cave with stones and sods so as to leave it safe. while thus engaged he remembered having heard how others had like him found caves and failed to refind them. he could procure nothing readily that would satisfy him as a mark, so it occurred to him to dot his path with the chippings of his stick, which he whittled all the way as he went back until he came to a familiar track: the chips were to guide him back to the cave. so when the morning came he and his friend set out, but when they reached the point where the chips should begin, not one was to be seen: the tylwyth teg had picked up every one of them. so that discovery of articles of brass--more probably bronze--was in vain. but, says the writer, it is not fated to be always in vain, for there is a tradition in the valley that it is a gwydel, 'goidel, irishman,' who is to have these treasures, and that it will happen in this wise:--a gwydel will come to the neighbourhood to be a shepherd, and one day when he goes up the mountain to see to the sheep, just when it pleases the fates a black sheep with a speckled head will run before him and make straight for the cave: the sheep will go in, with the gwydel in pursuit trying to catch him. when the gwydel enters he sees the treasures, looks at them with surprise, and takes possession of them; and thus, in some generation to come, the gwydyl will have their own restored to them. that is the tradition which derfel hughes found in the vale of the ogwen, and he draws from it the inference which it seems to warrant, in words to the following effect:--perhaps this shows us that the gwydyl had some time or other something to do with these parts, and that we are not to regard as stories without foundations all that is said of that nation; and the sayings of old people to this day show that there is always some spite between our nation and the gwydyl. thus, for instance, he goes on to say, if a man proves changeable, he is said to have become a gwydel (y mae wedi troi'n wydel), or if one is very shameless and cheeky he is called a gwydel and told to hold his tongue (taw yr hen wydel); and a number of such locutions used by our people proves, he thinks, the former prevalence of much contention between the two sister-nations. expressions of the kind mentioned by mr. hughes are well known in all parts of the principality, and it is difficult to account for them except on the supposition that goidels and brythons lived for a long time face to face, so to say, with one another over large areas in the west of our island. the next story to be mentioned belongs to the same snowdonian neighbourhood, and brings us back to arthur and his men. for a writer who has already been quoted from the brython for , p. , makes arthur and his following set out from dinas emrys and cross hafod y borth mountain for a place above the upper reach of cwmllan, called tregalan, where they found their antagonists. from tregalan the latter were pushed up the bwlch or pass, towards cwm dyli; but when the vanguard of the army with arthur leading had reached the top of the pass, the enemy discharged a shower of arrows at them. there arthur fell, and his body was buried in the pass so that no enemy might march that way so long as arthur's dust rested there. that, he says, is the story, and there to this day remains in the pass, he asserts, the heap of stones called carned arthur, 'arthur's cairn': the pass is called bwlch y saethau, 'the pass of the arrows.' then ogof llanciau eryri is the subject of the following story given at p. of the same volume:--after arthur's death on bwlch y saethau, his men ascended to the ridge of the lliwed and descended thence into a vast cave called ogof llanciau eryri, 'the young men of snowdonia's cave,' which is in the precipitous cliff on the left-hand side near the top of llyn llydaw. this is in cwm dyli, and there in that cave those warriors are said to be still, sleeping in their armour and awaiting the second coming of arthur to restore the crown of britain to the kymry. for the saying is:-- llancia' 'ryri a'u gwyn gyll a'i hennill hi. snowdonia's youths with their white hazels will win it. as the local shepherds were one day long ago collecting their sheep on the lliwed, one sheep fell down to a shelf in this precipice, and when the cwm dyli shepherd made his way to the spot he perceived that the ledge of rock on which he stood led to the hidden cave of llanciau eryri. there was light within: he looked in and beheld a host of warriors without number all asleep, resting on their arms and ready equipped for battle. seeing that they were all asleep, he felt a strong desire to explore the whole place; but as he was squeezing in he struck his head against the bell hanging in the entrance. it rang so that every corner of the immense cave rang again, and all the warriors woke uttering a terrible shout, which so frightened the shepherd that he never more enjoyed a day's health; nor has anybody since dared as much as to approach the mouth of the cave. thus far the brython, and i have only to remark that this legend is somewhat remarkable for the fact of its representing the youths of eryri sleeping away in their cave without arthur among them. in fact, that hero is described as buried not very far off beneath a carned or cairn on bwlch y saethau. as to the exact situation of that cairn, i may say that my attention was drawn some time ago to the following lines by mr. william owen, better known as glaslyn, a living bard bred and born in the district:-- gerllaw carned arthur ar ysgwyd y wydfa y gorwed gwedillion y cawr enwog ricca. near arthur's cairn on the shoulder of snowdon lie the remains of the famous giant ricca. these words recall an older couplet in a poem by rhys goch eryri, who is said to have died in the year . he was a native of the parish of bedgelert, and his words in point run thus:-- ar y drum oer dramawr, on the ridge cold and vast, yno gorwed ricca gawr. there the giant ricca lies. from this it is clear that rhys goch meant that the cairn on the top of snowdon covered the remains of the giant whose name has been variously written ricca, ritta, and rhita. so i was impelled to ascertain from glaslyn whether i had correctly understood his lines, and he has been good enough to help me out of some of my difficulties, as i do not know snowdon by heart, especially the nanhwynain and bedgelert side of the mountain:--the cairn on the summit of snowdon was the giant's before it was demolished and made into a sort of tower which existed before the hotel was made. glaslyn has not heard it called after ricca's name, but he states that old people used to call it carned y cawr, 'the giant's cairn.' in carned arthur, 'arthur's cairn,' was to be seen on the top of bwlch y saethau, but he does not know whether it is still so, as he has not been up there since the building of the hotel. bwlch y saethau is a lofty shoulder of snowdon extending in the direction of nanhwynain, and the distance from the top of snowdon to it is not great; it would take you half an hour or perhaps a little more to walk from the one carned to the other. it is possible to trace arthur's march from dinas emrys up the slopes of hafod y borth, over the shoulder of the aran and braich yr oen to tregalan--or cwm tregalan, as it is now called--but from tregalan he would have to climb in a north-easterly direction in order to reach bwlch y saethau, where he is related to have fallen and to have been interred beneath a cairn. this may be regarded as an ordinary or commonplace account of his death. but the scene suggests a far more romantic picture; for down below was llyn llydaw with its sequestered isle, connected then by means only of a primitive canoe with a shore occupied by men engaged in working the ore of eryri. nay with the eyes of malory we seem to watch bedivere making, with excalibur in his hands, his three reluctant journeys to the lake ere he yielded it to the arm emerging from the deep. we fancy we behold how 'euyn fast by the banke houed a lytyl barge wyth many fayr ladyes in hit,' which was to carry the wounded arthur away to the accompaniment of mourning and loud lamentation; but the legend of the marchlyn bids us modify malory's language as to the barge containing many ladies all wearing black hoods, and take our last look at the warrior departing rather in a coracle with three wondrously fair women attending to his wounds [ ]. some further notes on snowdon, together with a curious account of the cave of llanciau eryri, have been kindly placed at my disposal by mr. ellis pierce (elis [ ] o'r nant) of dolwydelan:--in the uppermost part of the hollow called cwmllan is tregalan, and in the middle of cwm tregalan is a green hill, or rather an eminence which hardly forms a hill, but what is commonly called a boncyn [ ] in carnarvonshire, and between that green boncyn and the clogwyn du, 'black precipice,' is a bog, the depth of which no one has ever succeeded in ascertaining, and a town--inferred perhaps from tre in tregalan--is fabled to have been swallowed up there. another of my informants speaks of several hillocks or boncyns as forming one side of this little cwm; but he has heard from geologists, that these green mounds represent moraines deposited there in the glacial period. from the bottom of the clogwyn du it is about a mile to bwlch y saethau. then as to the cave of llanciau eryri, which nobody can now find, the slope down to it begins from the top of the lliwed, but ordinarily speaking one could not descend to where it is supposed to have been without the help of ropes, which seems incompatible with the story of the cwm dyli shepherd following a sheep until he was at the mouth of the cave; not to mention the difficulty which the descent would have offered to arthur's men when they entered it. then elis o'r nant's story represents it shutting after them, and only opening to the shepherd in consequence of his having trodden on a particular sod or spot. he then slid down unintentionally and touched the bell that was hanging there, so that it rang and instantly woke the sleeping warriors. no sooner had that happened than those men of arthur's took up their guns--never mind the anachronism--and the shepherd made his way out more dead than alive; and the frightened fellow never recovered from the shock to the day of his death. when these warriors take up their guns they fire away, we are told, without mercy from where each man stands: they are not to advance a single step till arthur comes to call them back to the world. to swell the irrelevancies under which this chapter labours already, and to avoid severing cognate questions too rudely, i wish to add that elis o'r nant makes the name of the giant buried on the top of snowdon into rhitta or rhita instead of ricca. that is also the form of the name with which mrs. rhys was familiar throughout her childhood on the llanberis side of the mountain. she often heard of rhita [ ] gawr having been buried on the top of snowdon, and of other warriors on other parts of snowdon such as moel gynghorion and the gist on that moel. but elis o'r nant goes further, and adds that from rhita the mountain was called wydfa rhita, more correctly gwydfa rita, 'rhita's gwydfa.' fearing this might be merely an inference, i have tried to cross-examine him so far as that is possible by letter. he replies that his father was bred and born in the little glen called ewybrnant [ ], between bettws y coed and pen machno, and that his grandfather also lived there, where he appears to have owned land not far from the home of the celebrated bishop morgan. now elis' father often talked, he says, in his hearing of 'gwydfa rhita.' wishing to have some more definite evidence, i wrote again, and he informs me that his father was very fond of talking about his father, elis o'r nant's grandfather, who appears to have been a character and a great supporter of sir robert williams, especially in a keenly contested political election in , when the latter was opposed by the then head of the penrhyn family. sometimes the old man from ewybrnant would set out in his clocs, 'clogs or wooden shoes,' to visit sir robert williams, who lived at plas y nant, near bedgelert. on starting he would say to his family, mi a'i hyibio troed gwydfa rhita ag mi do'n ol rwbrud cin nos, or sometimes foru. that is, 'i'll go round the foot of rhita's gwydfa and come back some time before night': sometimes he would say 'to-morrow.' elis also states that his father used to relate how rhita's gwydfa was built, namely by the simple process of each of his soldiers taking a stone to place on rhita's tomb. however the story as to rhita gawr being buried on the top of snowdon came into existence, there can be no doubt that it was current in comparatively recent times, and that the welsh name of y wydfa, derived from it, refers to the mountain as distinguished from the district in which it is situated. in welsh this latter is eryri, the habitat, as it were, of the eryr, 'eagle,' a bird formerly at home there as many local names go to prove, such as carreg yr eryr [ ], 'the stone of the eagle,' mentioned in the boundaries of the lands on snowdon granted to the abbey of aberconwy in llewelyn's charter, where also snowdon mountain is called wedua vawr, 'the great gwydfa.' now, as already suggested, the word gwydfa takes us back to rhita's carned or cairn, as it signified a monument, a tomb or barrow: dr. davies gives it in his welsh-latin dictionary as locus sepulturæ, mausoleum. this meaning of the word may be illustrated by a reference in passing to the mention in brut y tywysogion of the burial of madog ab maredyd. for under the year we are told that he was interred at meifod, as it was there his tomb or the vault of his family, the one intended also for him (y ydua [ ]), happened to be. against the evidence just given, that tradition places rhita's grave on the top of snowdon, a passing mention by derfel hughes (p. ) is of no avail, though to the effect that it is on the top of the neighbouring mountain called carned lywelyn, 'llewelyn's cairn,' that rhita's cairn was raised. he deserves more attention, however, when he places carned drystan, 'tristan or tristram's cairn,' on a spur of that mountain, to wit, towards the east above ffynnon y llyffaint [ ]. for it is worthy of note that the name of drystan, associated with arthur in the later romances, should figure with that of arthur in the topography of the same snowdon district. before leaving snowdon i may mention a cave near a small stream not far from llyn gwynain, about a mile and a half above dinas emrys. in the llwyd letter (printed in the cambrian journal for , pp. , ), on which i have already drawn, it is called ogo'r gwr blew, 'the hairy man's cave'; and the story relates how the gwr blew who lived in it was fatally wounded by a woman who happened to be at home, alone, in one of the nearest farm houses when the gwr blew came to plunder it. its sole interest here is that a later version [ ] identifies the hairy man with owen lawgoch, after modifying the former's designation y gwr blew, which literally meant 'the hair man,' into y gwr blewog, 'the hairy man.' this doubtful instance of the presence of owen lawgoch in the folklore of north wales seems to stand alone. some of these cave stories, it will have been seen, reveal to us a hero who is expected to return to interfere again in the affairs of this world, and it is needless to say that wales is by no means alone in the enjoyment of imaginary prospects of this kind. the same sort of poetic expectation has not been unknown, for instance, in ireland. in the summer of , i spent some sunny days in the neighbourhood of the boyne, and one morning i resolved to see the chief burial mounds dotting the banks of that interesting river; but before leaving the hotel at drogheda, my attention was attracted by a book of railway advertisement of the kind which forcibly impels one to ask two questions: why will not the railway companies leave those people alone who do not want to travel, and why will they make it so tedious for those who do? but on turning the leaves of that booklet over i was inclined to a suaver mood, as i came on a paragraph devoted to an ancient stronghold called the grianan of aileach, or greenan-ely, in the highlands of donegal. here i read that a thousand armed men sit resting there on their swords, and bound by magic sleep till they are to be called forth to take their part in the struggle for the restoration of erin's freedom. at intervals they awake, it is said, and looking up from their trance they ask in tones which solemnly resound through the many chambers of the grianan: 'is the time come?' a loud voice, that of the spiritual caretaker, is heard to reply: 'the time is not yet.' they resume their former posture and sink into their sleep again. that is the substance of the words i read, and they called to my mind the legend of such heroes of the past as barbarossa, with his sleep interrupted only by his change of posture once in seven years; of dom sebastian, for centuries expected from moslem lands to restore the glories of portugal; of the cid rodrigo, expected back to do likewise with the kingdom of castile; and last, but not least, of the o'donoghue who sleeps beneath the lakes of killarney, ready to emerge to right the wrongs of erin. with my head full of these and the like dreams of folklore, i was taken over the scene of the battle of the boyne; and the car-driver, having vainly tried to interest me in it, gave me up in despair as an uncultured savage who felt no interest in the history of ireland. however he somewhat changed his mind when, on reaching the first ancient burial mound, he saw me disappear underground, fearless of the fomhoraigh; and he began to wonder whether i should ever return to pay him his fare. this in fact was the sheet anchor of all my hopes; for i thought that in case i remained fast in a narrow passage, or lost my way in the chambers of the prehistoric dead, the jarvey must fetch me out again. so by the time i had visited three of these ancient places, dowth, knowth, and new grange, i had risen considerably in his opinion; and he bethought him of stories older than the battle of the boyne. so he told me on the way back several bits of something less drearily historical. among other things, he pointed in the direction of a place called ardee in the county of louth, where, he said, there is garry geerlaug's enchanted fort full of warriors in magic sleep, with garry geerlaug himself in their midst. once on a time a herdsman is said to have strayed into their hall, he said, and to have found the sleepers each with his sword and his spear ready to hand. but as the intruder could not keep his hands off the metal wealth of the place, the owners of the spears began to rouse themselves, and the intruder had to flee for his life. but there that armed host is awaiting the eventful call to arms, when they are to sally forth to restore prosperity and glory to ireland. that was his story, and i became all attention as soon as i heard of ardee, which is in irish Áth fhir-dheadh, or the ford of fer-deadh, so called from fer-deadh, who fought a protracted duel with cúchulainn in that ford, where at the end, according to a well-known irish story, he fell by cúchulainn's hand. i was still more exercised by the name of garry geerlaug, as i recognized in garry an anglo-irish pronunciation of the norse name godhfreydhr, later godhroedh, sometimes rendered godfrey and sometimes godred, while in man and in scotland it has become gorry, which may be heard also in ireland. i thought, further, that i recognized the latter part of garry geerlaug's designation as the norse female name geirlaug. there was no complete lack of garries in that part of ireland in the tenth and eleventh centuries; but i have not yet found any historian to identify for me the warrior named or nicknamed garry geerlaug, who is to return blinking to this world of ours when his nap is over. leaving ireland, i was told the other day of a place called tom na hurich, near inverness, where finn and his following are resting, each on his left elbow, enjoying a broken sleep while waiting for the note to be sounded, which is to call them forth. what they are then to do i have not been told: it may be that they will proceed at once to solve the crofter question, for there will doubtless be one. it appears, to come back to wales, that king cadwaladr, who waged an unsuccessful war with the angles of northumbria in the seventh century, was long after his death expected to return to restore the brythons to power. at any rate so one is led in some sort of a hazy fashion to believe in reading several of the poems in the manuscript known as the book of taliessin. one finds, however, no trace of cadwaladr in our cave legends: the heroes of them are arthur and owen lawgoch. now concerning arthur one need at this point hardly speak, except to say that the welsh belief in the eventual return of arthur was at one time a powerful motive affecting the behaviour of the people of wales, as was felt, for instance, by english statesmen in the reign of henry ii. but by our time the expected return of arthur--rexque futurus--has dissipated itself into a commonplace of folklore fitted only to point an allegory, as when elvet lewis, one of the sweetest of living welsh poets, sings in a poem entitled arthur gyda ni, 'arthur with us':-- mae arthur fawr yn cysgu, great arthur still is sleeping, a'i dewrion syd o'i deutu, his warriors all around him, a'u gafael ar y cled: with grip upon the steel: pan daw yn dyd yn nghymru, when dawns the day on cambry, daw arthur fawr i fynu great arthur forth will sally yn fyw--yn fyw o'i fed! alive to work her weal! not so with regard to the hopes associated with the name of owen lawgoch; for we have it on gwynionyd's testimony, p. , that our old baledwyr or ballad men used to sing about him at welsh fairs: it is not in the least improbable that they still do so here and there, unless the horrors of the ghastly murder last reported in the newspapers have been found to pay better. at any rate mr. fisher (p. ) has known old people in his native district in the llychwr valley who could repeat stanzas or couplets from the ballads in question. he traces these scraps to a booklet entitled merlin's prophecy [ ], together with a brief history of his life, taken from the book of prognostication. this little book bears no date, but appears to have been published in the early part of the nineteenth century. it is partly in prose, dealing briefly with the history of merlin the wild or silvaticus, and the rest consists of two poems. the first of these poems is entitled dechreu darogan myrdin, 'the beginning of merlin's prognostication,' and is made up of forty-nine verses, several of which speak of owen as king conquering all his foes and driving out the saxons: then in the forty-seventh stanza comes the couplet which says, that this owen is henry the ninth, who is tarrying in a foreign land. the other poem is of a more general character, and is entitled the second song of merlin's prognostication, and consists of twenty-six stanzas of four lines each like the previous one; but the third stanza describes arthur's bell at caerlleon, 'caerleon,' ringing with great vigour to herald the coming of owen; and the seventh stanza begins with the following couplet:-- ceir gweled owen law-goch yn d'od i frydain fawr, ceir gweled newyn ceiniog yn nhref gaerlleon-gawr. owen lawgoch one shall to britain coming see, and dearth of pennies find at chester on the dee. it closes with the date in verse at the end, to wit, , which takes us back to very troublous times: was the year of the triple alliance of england, sweden, and holland against louis xiv; and it was not long after the plague had raged, and london had had its great fire. so it is a matter of no great surprise if some people in wales had a notion that the power of england was fast nearing its end, and that the baledwyr thought it opportune to refurbish and adapt some of merlin's prophecies as likely to be acceptable to the peasantry of south wales. at all events we have no reason to suppose that the two poems which have here been described from mr. fisher's data represented either the gentry of wales, whose ordinary speech was probably for the most part english, or the bardic fraternity, who would have looked with contempt at the language and style of the prognostication. for, apart from careless printing, this kind of literature can lay no claim to merit in point of diction or of metre. such productions represent probably the baledwyr and the simple country people, such as still listen in rapt attention to them doing at welsh fairs and markets what they are pleased to regard as singing. all this fits in well enough with the folklore of the caves, such as the foregoing stories represent it. here i may add that i am informed by mr. craigfryn hughes of a tradition that arthur and his men are biding their time near caerleon on the usk, to wit, in a cave resembling generally those described in the foregoing legends. he also mentions a tradition as to owen glyndwr--so he calls him, though it is unmistakably the owen of the baledwyr who have been referred to by mr. fisher--that he and his men are similarly slumbering in a cave in craig gwrtheyrn, in carmarthenshire. that is a spot in the neighbourhood of llandyssil, consisting of an elevated field terminating on one side in a sharp declivity, with the foot of the rock laved by the stream of the teifi. craig gwrtheyrn means vortigern's rock, and it is one of the sites with which legend associates the name of that disreputable old king. i am not aware that it shows any traces of ancient works, but it looks at a distance an ideal site for an old fortification. an earlier prophecy about owen lawgoch than any of these occurs, as kindly pointed out to me by mr. gwenogvryn evans, in the peniarth ms. (= hengwrt ms. , p. ), and points back possibly to the last quarter of the fourteenth century. see also one quoted by him, from the mostyn ms. , in his report on mss. in the welsh language, i. . probably many more such prophecies might be discovered if anybody undertook to make a systematic search for them. but who was owen lawgoch, if there ever was such a man? such a man there was undoubtedly; for we read in one of the documents printed in the miscellaneous volume commonly known as the record of carnarvon, that at a court held at conway in the forty-fourth year of edward iii a certain gruffyd says was adjudged to forfeit all the lands which he held in anglesey to the prince of wales--who was at that time no other than edward the black prince--for the reason that the said gruffyd had been an adherent of owen: adherens fuisset owino lawegogh (or lawgogh) inimico et proditori predicti domini principis et de consilio predicti owyni ad mouendam guerram in wallia contra predictum dominum principem [ ]. how long previously it had been attempted to begin a war on behalf of this owen lawgoch one cannot say, but it so happens that at this time there was a captain called yeuwains, yewains, or yvain de gales or galles, 'owen of wales,' fighting on the french side against the english in edward's continental wars. froissart in his chronicles has a great deal to say of him, for he distinguished himself greatly on various critical occasions. from the historian's narrative one finds that owen had escaped when a boy to the court of philip vi of france, who received him with great favour and had him educated with his own nephews. froissart's account of him is, that the king of england, edward iii, had slain his father and given his lordship and principality to his own son as prince of wales; and froissart gives owen's father's name as aymon, which should mean edmond, unless the name intended may have been rather einion. however that may have been, owen was engaged in the battle of poitiers in , and when peace was made he went to serve in lombardy; but when war between england and france broke out again in , he returned to france. he sometimes fought on sea and sometimes on land, but he was always entrusted by the french king, who was now charles v, with important commands [ ]. thus in he was placed at the head of a flotilla with , men, and ordered to operate against the english: he made a descent on the isle of guernsey [ ], and while there besieging the castle of cornet, he was charged by the king of france to sail to spain to invite the king of castile to send his fleet again to help in the attack on la rochelle. whilst staying at santander the earl of pembroke was brought thither, having been taken prisoner in the course of the destruction of the english fleet before la rochelle. owen, on seeing the earl of pembroke, asks him with bitterness if he is come there to do him homage for his land, of which he had taken possession in wales. he threatens to avenge himself on him as soon as he can, and also on the earl of hereford and edward spencer, for it was by the fathers of these three men, he said, his own father had been betrayed to death. edward iii died in , and the black prince had died shortly before. owen survived them both, and was actively engaged in the siege of mortagne sur mer in poitou, when he was assassinated by one lamb, who had insinuated himself into his service and confidence, partly by pretending to bring him news about his native land and telling him that all wales was longing to have him back to be the lord of his country--et lui fist acroire que toute li terre de gales le desiroient mout à ravoir à seigneur. so owen fell in the year , and was buried at the church of saint-léger [ ] while lamb returned to the english to receive his stipulated pay. when this happened owen's namesake, owen glyndwr, was nearly thirty years of age. the latter was eventually to assert with varying fortune on several fields of battle in this country the claims of his elder kinsman, who, by virtue of his memory in france, would seem to have rendered it easy for the later owen to enter into friendly relations with the french court of his day [ ]. now as to yvain de galles, the rev. thomas price (carnhuanawc) in his hanes cymru, 'history of wales,' devotes a couple of pages, - , to froissart's account of him, and he points out that angharad llwyd, in her edition of sir john wynne's history of the gwydir family [ ], had found owen lawgoch to have been owen ab thomas ab rhodri, brother to llewelyn, the last native prince of wales. one of the names, however, among other things, forms a difficulty: why did froissart call yvain's father aymon? so it is clear that a more searching study of welsh pedigrees and other documents, including those at the record office [ ], has to be made before owen can be satisfactorily placed in point of succession. for that he was in the right line to succeed the native princes of wales is suggested both by the eagerness with which all wales was represented as looking to his return to be the lord of the country, and by the opening words of froissart in describing what he had been robbed of by edward iii, as being both lordship and principality--la signourie et princeté. be that as it may, there is, it seems to me, little doubt that yvain de galles was no other than the owen lawgoch, whose adherent gruffyd says was deprived of his land and property in the latter part of edward's reign. in the next place, there is hardly room for doubt that the owen lawgoch here referred to was the same man whom the baledwyr in their jumble of prophecies intended to be henry the ninth, that is to say the welsh successor to the last tudor king, henry viii, and that he was at the same time the hero of the cave legends of divers parts of the principality, especially south wales, as already indicated. now without being able to say why owen and his analogues should become the heroes of cave legends contemplating a second advent, it is easy to point to circumstances which facilitated their doing so. it is useless to try to discuss the question of arthur's disappearance; but take garry geerlaug, for instance, a roving norseman, as we may suppose from his name, who may have suddenly disappeared with his followers, never more to be heard of in the east of ireland. in the absence of certain news of his death, it was all the easier to imagine that he was dozing quietly away in an enchanted fortress. then as to king cadwaladr, who was also, perhaps, to have returned to this world, so little is known concerning his end that historians have no certainty to this day when or where he died. so much the readier therefore would the story gain currency that he was somewhere biding his time to come back to retrieve his lost fortunes. lastly, there is owen lawgoch, the magic of whose name has only been dissipated in our own day: he died in france in the course of a protracted war with the kings of england. it is not likely, then, that the peasantry of wales could have heard anything definite about his fate. so here also the circumstances were favourable to the cave legend and the dream that he was, whether at home or abroad, only biding his time. moreover, in all these cases the hope-inspiring delusion gained currency among a discontented people, probably, who felt the sore need of a deliverer to save them from oppression or other grievous hardships of their destiny. the question can no longer be prevented from presenting itself as to the origin of this idea of a second advent of a hero of the past; but in that form it is too large for discussion here, and it would involve a review, for instance, of one of the cardinal beliefs of the latter-day saints as to the coming of christ to reign on earth, and other doctrines supposed to be derived from the new testament. on the other hand, there is no logical necessity why the expected deliverer should have been in the world before: witness the jews, who are looking forward not to the return but to the birth and first coming of their messiah. so the question here may be confined more or less strictly to its cave-legend form; and though i cannot answer it, some advance in the direction whence the answer should come may perhaps be made. in the first place, one will have noticed that arthur and owen lawgoch come more or less in one another's way; and the presumption is that owen lawgoch has been to a certain extent ousting arthur, who may be regarded as having the prior claim, not to mention that in the case of the gwr blew cave, p. , owen is made by an apparently recent version of the story to evict from his lair a commonplace robber of no special interest. in other words, the owen lawgoch legend is, so to say, detected spreading itself [ ]. that is very possibly just what had happened at a remoter period in the case of the arthur legend itself. in other words, arthur has taken the place of some ancient divinity, such as that dimly brought within our ken by plutarch in the words placed at the head of this chapter. he reproduces the report of a certain demetrius, sent by the emperor of rome to reconnoitre and inspect the coasts of britain. it was to the effect that around britain lay many uninhabited islands, some of which are named after deities and some after heroes; and of the islands inhabited, he visited the one nearest to the uninhabited ones. of this the dwellers were few, but the people of britain treated them as sacrosanct and inviolable in their persons. among other things, they related to him how terrible storms, diseases, and portents happened on the occasion of any one of the mighty leaving this life. he adds:--'moreover there is, they said, an island in which cronus is imprisoned, with briareus keeping guard over him as he sleeps; for, as they put it, sleep is the bond forged for cronus. they add that around him are many divinities, his henchmen and attendants [ ].' what divinity, celtic or pre-celtic, this may have been who recalled cronus or saturn to the mind of the roman officer, it is impossible to say. it is to be noticed that he sleeps and that his henchmen are with him, but no allusion is made to treasure. no more is there, however, in mr. fisher's version of the story of ogo'r dinas, which, according to him, says that arthur and his warriors there lie sleeping with their right hands clasping the hilts of their drawn swords, ready to encounter any one who may venture to disturb their repose. on the other hand, legends about cave treasure are probably very ancient, and in some at least of our stories the safe keeping of such treasure must be regarded as the original object of the presence of the armed host. the permission supposed to be allowed an intruder to take away a reasonable quantity of the cave gold, i should look at in the light of a sort of protest on the part of the story-teller against the niggardliness of the cave powers. i cannot help suspecting in the same way that the presence of a host of armed warriors to guard some piles of gold and silver for unnumbered ages must have struck the fancy of the story-tellers as disproportionate, and that this began long ago to cause a modification in the form of the legends. that is to say, the treasure sank into a mere accessory of the presence of the armed men, who are not guarding any such thing so much as waiting for the destined hour when they are to sally forth to make lost causes win. originally the armed warriors were in some instances presumably the henchmen of a sleeping divinity, as in the story told to demetrius; but perhaps oftener they were the guardians of treasure, just as much as the invisible agencies are, which bring on thunder and lightning and portents when any one begins to dig at dinas emrys or other spots where ancient treasure lies hidden. there is, it must be admitted, no objection to regarding the attendants of a divinity as at the same time the guardians of his treasure. in none, however, of these cave stories probably may we suppose the principal figure to have originally been that of the hero expected to return among men: he, when found in them, is presumably to be regarded as a comparatively late interloper. but it is, as already hinted, not to be understood that the notion of a returning hero is itself a late one. quite the contrary; and the question then to be answered is, where was that kind of hero supposed to pass his time till his return? there is only one answer to which welsh folklore points, and that is, in fairyland. this is also the teaching of the ancient legend about arthur, who goes away to the isle of avallon to be healed of his wounds by the fairy maiden morgen; and, according to an anonymous poet [ ], it is in her charms that one should look for the reason why arthur tarries so long:-- immodice læsus arthurus tendit ad aulam regis avallonis, ubi virgo regia, vulnus illius tractans, sanati membra reservat ipsa sibi: vivuntque simul, si credere fas est. avallon's court see suffering arthur reach: his wounds are healed, a royal maid the leech; his pains assuaged, he now with her must dwell, if we hold true what ancient legends tell. here may be cited by way of comparison walter mapes' statement as to the trinio, concerning whom he was quoted in the first chapter, p. above. he says, that as trinio was never seen after the losing battle, in which he and his friends had engaged with a neighbouring chieftain, it was believed in the district around llyn syfadon, that trinio's fairy mother had rescued him from the enemy and taken him away with her to her home in the lake. in the case of arthur it is, as we have seen, a fairy also or a lake lady that intervenes; and there cannot be much room for doubt, that the story representing him going to fairyland to be healed is far older than any which pictures him sleeping in a cave with his warriors and his gold all around him. as for the gold, however, it is abundantly represented as nowhere more common than in the home of the fairies: so this metal treated as a test cannot greatly help us in essaying the distinction here suggested. with regard to owen lawgoch, however, one is not forced to suppose that he was ever believed to have sojourned in faery: the legendary precedent of arthur as a cave sleeper would probably suffice to open the door for him to enter the recesses of craig y dinas, as soon as the country folk began to grow weary of waiting for his return. in other words, most of our cave legends have combined together two sets of popular belief originally distinct, the one referring to a hero gone to the world of the fairies and expected some day to return, and the other to a hero or god enjoying an enchanted sleep with his retinue all around him. in some of our legends, however, such as that of llanciau eryri, the process of combining the two sets of story has been left to this day incomplete. chapter ix place-name stories the dindsenchas is a collection of stories (senchasa), in middle-irish prose and verse, about the names of noteworthy places (dind) in ireland--plains, mountains, ridges, cairns, lakes, rivers, fords, estuaries, islands, and so forth.... but its value to students of irish folklore, romance (sometimes called history), and topography has long been recognized by competent authorities, such as petrie, o'donovan, and mr. alfred nutt. whitley stokes. in the previous chapters some folklore has been produced in which we have swine figuring: see more especially that concerned with the hwch du gwta, pp. - above. now i wish to bring before the reader certain other groups of swine legends not vouched for by oral tradition so much as found in manuscripts more or less ancient. the first three to be mentioned occur in one of the triads [ ]. i give the substance of it in the three best known versions, premising that the triad is entitled that of the three stout swineherds of the isle of prydain:-- i. a:--drystan [ ] son of tallwch who guarded the swine of march son of meirchion while the swineherd went to bid essyllt come to meet him: at the same time arthur sought to have one sow by fraud or force, and failed. ii. b:--drystan son of tallwch with the swine of march ab meirchion while the swineherd went on a message to essyllt. arthur and march and cai and bedwyr came all four to him, but obtained from drystan not even as much as a single porker, whether by force, by fraud, or by theft. iii. c:--the third was trystan son of tallwch, who guarded the swine of march son of meirchion while the swineherd had gone on a message to essyllt to bid her appoint a meeting with trystan. now arthur and marchell and cai and bedwyr undertook to go and make an attempt on him, but they proved unable to get possession of as much as one porker either as a gift or as a purchase, whether by fraud, by force, or by theft. in this story the well-known love of drystan and essyllt is taken for granted; but the whole setting is so peculiar and so unlike that of the story of tristan and iselt or iseut in the romances, that there is no reason to suppose it in any way derived from the latter. the next portion of the triad runs thus:-- b:--and pryderi son of pwyll of annwvyn who guarded the swine of pendaran of dyfed in the glen of the cuch in emlyn. ii. a:--pryderi son of pwyll head of annwn with the swine of pendaran of dyfed his foster father. the swine were the seven brought away by pwyll head of annwn and given by him to pendaran of dyfed his foster father; and the glen of the cuch was the place where they were kept. the reason why pryderi is called a mighty swineherd is that no one could prevail over him either by fraud or by force [ ]. iii. a:--the first was pryderi son of pwyll of pendaran in dyfed [ ], who guarded his father's swine while he was in annwn, and it was in the glen of the cuch that he guarded them. the history of the pigs is given, so to say, in the mabinogion. pwyll had been able to strike up a friendship and even an alliance with arawn king of annwvyn [ ] or annwn, which now means hades or the other world; and they kept up their friendship partly by exchanging presents of horses, greyhounds, falcons, and any other things calculated to give gratification to the receiver of them. among other gifts which pryderi appears to have received from the king of annwn were hobeu or moch, 'pigs, swine,' which had never before been heard of in the island of prydain. the news about this new race of animals, and that they formed sweeter food than oxen, was not long before it reached gwyned; and we shall presently see that there was another story which flatly contradicts this part of the triad, namely to the effect that gwydion, nephew of math king of gwyned and a great magician, came to pryderi's court at rhudlan, near dolau bach or highmead on the teifi in what is now the county of cardigan, and obtained some of the swine by deceiving the king. but, to pass by that for the present, i may say that dyfed seems to have been famous for rearing swine; and at the present day one affects to believe in the neighbouring districts that the chief industry in dyfed, more especially in south cardiganshire, consists in the rearing of parsons, carpenters, and pigs. perhaps it is also worth mentioning that the people of the southern portion of dyfed are nicknamed by the men of glamorgan to this day moch sir benfro, 'the pigs of pembrokeshire.' but why so much importance attached to pigs? i cannot well give a better answer than the reader can himself supply if he will only consider what rôle the pig plays in the domestic economy of modern ireland. but, to judge from old irish literature, it was even more so in ancient times, as pigs' meat was so highly appreciated, that under some one or other of its various names it usually takes its place at the head of all flesh meats in irish stories. this seems the case, for instance, in the medieval story called the vision of macconglinne [ ]; and, to go further back, to the feast of bricriu for instance, one finds it decidedly the case with the champion's portion [ ] at that stormy banquet. then one may mention the story of the fatal feast on mac-dáthó's great swine [ ], where that beast would have apparently sufficed for the braves both of connaught and ulster had conall cernach carved fair, and not given more than their share to his own ultonian friends in order to insult the connaught men by leaving them nothing but the fore-legs. it is right, however, to point out that most of the stories go to show, that the gourmands of ancient erin laid great stress on the pig being properly fed, chiefly on milk and the best kind of meal. it cannot have been very different in ancient wales; for we read in the story of peredur that, when he sets out from his mother's home full of his mother's counsel, he comes by-and-by to a pavilion, in front of which he sees food, some of which he proceeds to take according to his mother's advice, though the gorgeously dressed lady sitting near it has not the politeness to anticipate his wish. it consisted, we are told, of two bottles of wine, two loaves of white bread, and collops of a milk-fed pig's flesh [ ]. the home of the fairies was imagined to be a land of luxury and happiness with which nothing could compare in this world. in this certain welsh and irish stories agree; and in one of the latter, where the king of the fairies is trying to persuade the queen of ireland to elope with him, we find that among the many inducements offered her are fresh pig, sweet milk, and ale [ ]. conversely, as the fairies were considered to be always living and to be a very old-fashioned and ancient people, it was but natural to suppose that they had the animals which man found useful, such as horses, cattle, and sheep, except that they were held to be of superior breeds, as they are represented, for instance, in our lake legends. similarly, it is natural enough that other stories should ascribe to them also the possession of herds of swine; and all this prior to man's having any. the next step in the reasoning would be that man had obtained his from the fairies. it is some tradition of this kind that possibly suggested the line taken by the pwyll story in the matter of the derivation of the pig from annwn: see the last chapter. the next story in the triad is, if possible, wilder still: it runs as follows:-- i. c:--coll son of collfrewi [ ] who guarded henwen [ ], dallweir dallben's sow, which went burrowing as far as the headland of awstin in kernyw and then took to the sea. it was at aber torogi in gwent is-coed that she came to land, with coll keeping his grip on her bristles whatever way she went by sea or by land. now in maes gwenith, 'wheat field,' in gwent she dropped a grain of wheat and a bee, and thenceforth that has been the best place for wheat. then she went as far as llonwen in penfro and there dropped a grain of barley and a bee, and thenceforth llonwen has been the best place for barley. then she proceeded to rhiw gyferthwch in eryri and dropped a wolf-cub and an eagle-chick. these coll gave away, the eagle to the goidel brynach from the north, and the wolf to menwaed of arllechwed, and they came to be known as menwaed's wolf and brynach's eagle. then the sow went as far as the maen du at llanfair in arfon, and there she dropped a kitten, and that kitten coll cast into the menai: that came later to be known as cath paluc, 'palug's cat.' ii. c:--the third was coll son of kallureuy with the swine of dallwyr dallben in dallwyr's glen in kernyw. now one of the swine was with young and henwen was her name; and it was foretold that the isle of prydain would be the worse for her litter; and arthur collected the host of prydain and went about to destroy it. then one sow went burrowing, and at the headland of hawstin in kernyw she took to the sea with the swineherd following her. and in maes gwenith in gwent she dropped a grain of wheat and a bee, and ever since maes gwenith is the best place for wheat and bees. and at llonyon in penfro she dropped a grain of barley and another of wheat: therefore the barley of llonyon has passed into a proverb. and on rhiw gyferthwch in arfon she dropped a wolf-cub and an eagle-chick. the wolf was given to mergaed and the eagle to breat a prince from the north, and they were the worse for having them. and at llanfair in arfon, to wit below the maen du, she dropped a kitten, and from the maen du the swineherd cast it into the sea, but the sons of paluc reared it to their detriment. it grew to be cath paluc, 'palug's cat,' and proved one of the three chief molestations of mona reared in the island: the second was daronwy and the third was edwin king of england. iii. b:--the second was coll son of collfrewi who guarded dallwaran dallben's sow, that came burrowing as far as the headland of penwedic in kernyw and then took to the sea; and she came to land at aber tarogi in gwent is-coed with coll keeping his hold of her bristles whithersoever she went on sea or land. at maes gwenith in gwent she dropped three grains of wheat and three bees, and ever since gwent has the best wheat and bees. from gwent she proceeded to dyfed and dropped a grain of barley and a porker, and ever since dyfed has the best barley and pigs: it was in llonnio llonnwen these were dropped. afterwards she proceeded to arfon (sic) and in lleyn she dropped the grain of rye, and ever since lleyn and eifionyd have the best rye. and on the side of rhiw gyferthwch she dropped a wolf-cub and an eagle-chick. coll gave the eagle to brynach the goidel of dinas affaraon, and the wolf to menwaed lord of arllechwed, and one often hears of brynach's wolf and menwaed's eagle [the writer was careless: he has made the owners exchange pests]. then she went as far as the maen du in arfon, where she dropped a kitten and coll cast it into the menai. that was the cath balwg (sic), 'palug's cat': it proved a molestation to the isle of mona subsequently. such are the versions we have of this story, and a few notes on the names seem necessary before proceeding further. coll is called coll son of collurewy in i. , and coll son of kallureuy in ii. : all that is known of him comes from other triads, i. - , ii. , and iii. . the first two tell us that he was one of the three chief enchanters of the isle of prydain, and that he was taught his magic by rhudlwm the giant; while ii. calls the latter a dwarf and adds that coll was nephew to him. the matter is differently put in iii. , to the effect that rhudlwm the giant learnt his magic from eid[il]ig the dwarf and from coll son of collfrewi. nothing is known of dallwyr's glen in kernyw, or of the person after whom it was named. kernyw is the welsh for cornwall, but if penryn awstin or hawstin is to be identified with aust cliff on the severn sea in gloucestershire, the story would seem to indicate a time when cornwall extended north-eastwards as far as that point. the later triad, iii. , avoids penryn awstin and substitutes penwedic, which recalls some such a name as pengwaed [ ] or penwith in cornwall: elsewhere penwedic [ ] is only given as the name of the most northern hundred of keredigion. gwent is-coed means gwent below the wood or forest, and aber torogi or tarogi--omitted, probably by accident, in ii. --is now caldicot pill, where the small river tarogi, now called troggy, discharges itself not very far from portskewet. maes gwenith in the same neighbourhood is still known by that name. the correct spelling of the name of the place in penfro was probably llonyon, but it is variously given as llonwen, llonyon, and llonion, not to mention the llonnio llonnwen of the later form of the triad: should this last prove to be based on any authority one might suggest llonyon henwen, so called after the sow, as the original. the modern welsh spelling of llonyon would be llonion, and it is identified by mr. egerton phillimore with lanion near pembroke [ ]. rhiw gyferthwch is guessed to have been one of the slopes of snowdon on the bedgelert side; but i have failed to discover anybody who has ever heard the name used in that neighbourhood. arllechwed was, roughly speaking, that part of carnarvonshire which drains into the sea between conway and bangor. brynach and menwaed or mengwaed [ ] seem to be the names underlying the misreadings in ii. ; but it is quite possible that brynach, probably for an irish bronach, has here superseded an earlier urnach or eurnach also a goidel, to whom i shall have to return in another chapter. dinas affaraon [ ] is the place called dinas ffaraon dande in the story of llud and llevelys, where we are told that after llud had had the two dragons buried there, which had been dug up at the centre of his realm, to wit at oxford, ffaraon, after whom the place was called, died of grief. later it came to be called dinas emrys from myrdin emrys, 'merlinus ambrosius,' who induced vortigern to go away from there in quest of another place to build his castle [ ]. so the reader will see that the mention of this dinas brings us back to a weird spot with which he has been familiarized in the previous chapter: see pp. , above. llanfair in arfon is llanfair is-gaer near port dinorwic on the menai straits, and the maen du should be a black rock or black stone on the southern side of those straits. daronwy and cath paluc are both personages on whom light is still wanted. lastly, by edwin king of england is to be understood edwin king of the angles of deira and bernicia, whom welsh tradition represents as having found refuge for a time in anglesey. now this story as a whole looks like a sort of device for stringing together explanations of the origin of certain place-names and of certain local characteristics. leaving entirely out of the reckoning the whole of mid-wales, that is to say, the more brythonic portion of the country, it is remarkable as giving to south wales credit for certain resources, but to north wales for pests alone and scourges, except that the writer of the late version bethought himself of lleyn and eifionyd as having good land for growing rye; but he was very hazy as to the geography of north wales--both he and the redactors of the other triads equally belonged doubtless to south wales. among the place-names, maes gwenith, 'the wheat field,' is clear; but hardly less so is the case of aber torogi, 'mouth of the troggy,' where torogi is 'the pregnancy of animals,' from torrog, 'being with young.' so with rhiw gyferthwch, 'the hillside or ascent of cyferthwch,' where cyferthwch means 'pantings, pangs, labour.' the name maen du, 'black rock,' is left to explain itself; and i am not sure that the original story was not so put as also to explain llonion, to wit, as a sort of plural of llawn, 'full,' in reference, let us say, to the full ears of the barley grown there. but the reference to the place-names seems to have partly escaped the later tellers of the story or to have failed to impress them as worth emphasizing. they appear to have thought more of explaining the origin of menwaed's wolf and brynach's eagle. whether this means in the former case that the district of arllechwed was more infested by wolves than any other part of wales, or that menwaed, lord of arllechwed, had a wolf as his symbol, it is impossible to say. in another triad, however, i. = ii. , he is reckoned one of the three battle-knights who were favourites at arthur's court, the others being caradog freichfras and llyr llüydog or llud llurugog, while in iii. menwaed's place is taken by a son of his called mael hir. similarly with regard to brynach's eagle one has nothing to say, except that common parlance some time or other would seem to have associated the eagle in some way with brynach the goidel. the former prevalence of the eagle in the snowdon district seems to be the explanation of its welsh name of eryri--as already suggested, p. above--and the association of the bird with the goidelic chieftain who had his stronghold under the shadow of snowdon seems to follow naturally enough. but the details are conspicuous by their scarcity in welsh literature, though brynach's eagle is probably to be identified with the aquila fabulosa of eryri, of which giraldus makes a curious mention [ ]. perhaps the final disuse of goidelic speech in the district is to be, to some extent, regarded as accounting for our dearth of data. a change of language involved in all probability the shipwreck of many a familiar mode of thought; and many a homely expression must have been lost in the transition before an equivalent acceptable to the goidel was discovered by him in his adopted idiom. this question of linguistic change will be found further illustrated by the story to which i wish now to pass, namely that of the hunting of twrch trwyth. it is one of those incorporated in the larger tale known as that of kulhwch and olwen, the hero and heroine concerned: see the oxford mabinogion, pp. - , and guest's translation, iii. - . twrch trwyth is pictured as a formidable boar at the head of his offspring, consisting of seven swine, and the twrch himself is represented as carrying between his ears a comb, a razor, and a pair of shears. the plot of the kulhwch renders it necessary that these precious articles should be procured; so kulhwch prevails on his cousin arthur to undertake the hunt. arthur began by sending one of his men, to wit, menw [ ] son of teirgwaed, to see whether the three precious things mentioned were really where they were said to be, namely, between twrch trwyth's ears. menw was a great magician who usually formed one of any party of arthur's men about to visit a pagan country; for it was his business to subject the inhabitants to magic and enchantment, so that they should not see arthur's men, while the latter saw them. menw found twrch trwyth and his offspring at a place in ireland called esgeir oervel [ ], and in order to approach them he alighted in the form of a bird near where they were. he tried to snatch one of the three precious articles from twrch trwyth, but he only succeeded in securing one of his bristles, whereupon the twrch stood up and shook himself so vigorously that a drop of venom from his bristles fell on menw, who never enjoyed a day's health afterwards as long as he lived. menw now returned and assured arthur that the treasures were really about the twrch's head as it was reported. arthur then crossed to ireland with a host and did not stop until he found twrch trwyth and his swine at esgeir oervel. the hunt began and was continued for several days, but it did not prevent the twrch from laying waste a fifth part of ireland, that is in medieval irish cóiced, a province of the island. arthur's men, however, succeeded in killing one of the twrch's offspring, and they asked arthur the history [ ] of that swine. arthur replied that it had been a king before being transformed by god into a swine on account of his sins. here i should remark by the way, that the narrator of the story forgets the death of this young boar, and continues to reckon the twrch's herd as seven. arthur's next move was to send one of his men, gwrhyr, interpreter of tongues [ ], to parley with the boars. gwrhyr, in the form of a bird, alighted above where twrch trwyth and his swine lay, and addressed them as follows: 'for the sake of him who fashioned you in this shape, if you can speak, i ask one of you to come to converse with arthur.' answer was made by one of the boars, called grugyn gwrych ereint, that is, grugyn silver-bristle; for like feathers of silver, we are told, were his bristles wherever he went, and whether in woods or on plains, one saw the gleam of his bristles. the following, then, was grugyn's answer: 'by him who fashioned us in this shape, we shall not do so, and we shall not converse with arthur. enough evil has god done to us when he fashioned us in this shape, without your coming to fight with us.' gwrhyr replied: 'i tell you that arthur will fight for the comb, the razor, and the shears that are between the ears of twrch trwyth.' 'until his life has first been taken,' said grugyn, 'those trinkets shall not be taken, and to-morrow morning we set out hence for arthur's own country, and all the harm we can, shall we do there.' the boars accordingly set out for wales, while arthur with his host, his horses, and his hounds, on board his ship prydwen, kept within sight of them. twrch trwyth came to land at porth clais, a small creek south of st. david's, but arthur went that night to mynyw, which seems to have been menevia or st. david's. the next day arthur was told that the boars had gone past, and he overtook them killing the herds of kynnwas cwrvagyl, after they had destroyed all they could find in deugledyf, whether man or beast. then the twrch went as far as presseleu, a name which survives in that of preselly or precelly, as in preselly top and preselly mountains in north pembrokeshire. arthur and his men began the hunt again, while his warriors were ranged on both sides of the nyfer or the river nevern. the twrch then left the glen of the nevern and made his way to cwm kerwyn, the name of which survives in that of moel cwm kerwyn, one of the preselly heights. in the course of the hunt in that district the twrch killed arthur's four champions and many of the people of the country. he was next overtaken in a district called peuliniauc [ ] or peuliniog, which appears to have occupied a central area between the mountains, llandewi velfrey, henllan amgoed, and laugharne: it probably covered portions of the parish of whitland and of that of llandysilio, the church of which is a little to the north of the railway station of clyn derwen on the great western line. leaving peuliniog for the laugharne burrows, he crossed, as it seems, from ginst point to aber towy or towy mouth [ ], which at low water are separated mostly by tracts of sand interrupted only by one or two channels of no very considerable width; for aber towy would seem to have been a little south-east of st. ishmael's, on the eastern bank of the towy. thence the twrch makes his way to glynn ystu, more correctly perhaps clyn ystun, now written clyn ystyn [ ], the name of a farm between carmarthen and the junction of the amman with the llychwr, more exactly about six miles from that junction and about eight and a half from carmarthen as the crow flies. the hunt is resumed in the valley of the llychwr or loughor [ ], where grugyn and another young boar, called llwydawc gouynnyat [ ], committed terrible ravages among the huntsmen. this brought arthur and his host to the rescue, and twrch trwyth, on his part, came to help his boars; but as a tremendous attack was now made on him he moved away, leaving the llychwr, and making eastwards for mynyd amanw, or 'the mountain of amman,' for amanw is plentifully preserved in that neighbourhood in the shortened form of aman or amman [ ]. on mynyd amanw one of his boars was killed, but he is not distinguished by any proper name: he is simply called a banw, 'a young boar.' the twrch was again hard pressed, and lost another called twrch llawin. then a third of the swine is killed, called gwys, whereupon twrch trwyth went to dyffryn amanw, or the vale of amman, where he lost a banw and a benwic, a 'boar' and a 'sow.' all this evidently takes place in the same district, and mynyd amanw was, if not bryn amman, probably one of the mountains to the south or south-east of the river amman, so that dyffryn amanw may have been what is still called dyffryn amman, or the valley of the amman from bryn amman to where the river amman falls into the llychwr. from the amman the twrch and the two remaining boars of his herd made their way to llwch ewin, 'the lake or pool of ewin,' which is now represented by a bog mere above a farm house called llwch in the parish of bettws, which covers the southern slope of the amman valley. i have found this bog called in a map llwch is awel, 'pool below breeze,' whatever that may mean. we find them next at llwch tawi, the position of which is indicated by that of ynys pen llwch, 'pool's end isle,' some distance lower down the tawe than pont ar dawe. at this point the boars separate, and grugyn goes away to din tywi, 'towy fort,' an unidentified position somewhere on the towy, possibly grongar hill near llandeilo, and thence to a place in keredigion where he was killed, namely, garth grugyn. i have not yet been able to identify the spot, though it must have once had a castle, as we read of a castle called garthgrugyn being strengthened by maelgwn vychan in the year : the bruts locate it in keredigion [ ], but this part of the story is obscured by careless copying on the part of the scribe [ ] of the red book. after grugyn's death we read of llwydawc having made his way to ystrad yw, and, after inflicting slaughter on several of his assailants, he is himself killed there. now ystrad yw, which our mapsters would have us call ystrad wy, as if it had been on the wye [ ], is supposed to have covered till henry viii's time the same area approximately as the hundred of crickhowel has since, namely, the parishes of ( ) crickhowel, ( ) llanbedr ystrad yw with patrishow, ( ) llanfihangel cwm du with tretower and penmyarth, ( ) llangattock with llangenny, ( ) llanelly with brynmawr, and ( ) llangynidr. of these llanbedr perpetuates the name of ystrad yw, although it is situated near the junction of the greater and lesser grwynë and not in the strath of the yw, which ystrad yw means. so one can only treat lanbedr ystrad yw as meaning that particular llanbedr or st. peter's church which belongs to the district comprehensively called ystrad yw. now if one glances at the red book list of cantreds and cymwds, dating in the latter part of the fourteenth century, one will find ystrad yw and cruc howel existing as separate cymwds. so we have to look for the former in the direction of the parish of cwm du; and on going back to the taxatio of pope nicholas iv dating about , we find that practically we have to identify with cwm du a name stratden', p. a, which one is probably to treat as strat d'eue [ ] or some similar norman spelling; for most of the other parishes of the district are mentioned by the names which they still bear. that is not all; for from cwm du a tributary of the usk called the rhiangoll comes down and receives at tretower the waters of a smaller stream called the yw. the land on both sides of that yw burn forms the ystrad or strath of which we are in quest. the chief source of this water is called llygad yw, and gives its name to a house of some pretensions bearing an inscription showing that it was built in its present form about the middle of the seventeenth century by a member of the gunter family well known in the history of the county. near the house stands a yew tree on the boundary line of the garden, and close to its trunk, but at a lower level, is a spring of bubbling water: this is llygad yw, 'the eye of the yw.' for llygad yw is a succinct expression for the source of the yw burn [ ], and the stream retains the name yw to its fall into the rhiangoll; but besides the spring of llygad yw it has several other similar sources in the fields near the house. there is nothing, however, in this brook to account for the name of ystrad yw having been extended to an important district; but if one traces its short course one will at once guess the explanation. for a few fields below llygad yw is the hamlet of the gaer or fortress, consisting of four farm houses called the upper, middle, and lower gaer, and pen y gaer: through this hamlet of the gaer flows the yw. these, and more especially pen y gaer, are supposed to have been the site of a roman camp of considerable importance, and close by it the yw is supposed to have been crossed by the roman road proceeding towards brecon [ ]. the camp in the strath of the yw was the head quarters of the ruling power in the district, and hence the application of the name of ystrad yw to a wider area. but for our story one has to regard the name as confined to the land about the yw burn, or at most to a somewhat larger portion of the parish of cwm du, to which the yw and tretower belong. the position of the gaer in ystrad yw at the foot of the bwlch or the gap in the difficult mountain spur stretching down towards the usk is more likely to have been selected by the romans than by any of the celtic inhabitants, whose works are to be found on several of the neighbouring hills, such as myarth [ ] between the yw and the usk. we next find twrch trwyth, now the sole survivor, making his way towards the severn: so arthur summons cornwall and devon to meet him at aber hafren or severn mouth. then a furious conflict with the twrch takes place in the very waters of that river, between llyn lliwan (p. ) and aber gwy or the mouth of the wye. after much trouble, arthur's men succeed in getting possession of two out of the three treasures of the boar, but he escapes with the third, namely, the comb, across the severn [ ]. then as soon as he gets ashore he makes his way to cornwall, where the comb is at length snatched from him. chased thence, he goes straight into the sea, with the hounds anet and aethlem after him, and nothing has ever been heard of any of the three from that day to this. that is the story of twrch trwyth, and dr. stokes calls my attention to a somewhat similar hunt briefly described in the rennes dindsenchas in the revue celtique, xv. - . then as to the precious articles carried by the twrch about his head and ears, the comb, the razor, and the shears, two out of the three--the comb and the razor--belong to the regular stock of a certain group of tales which recount how the hero elopes with the daughter of a giant who loses his life in the pursuit [ ]. in order to make sure of escaping from the infuriated giant, the daughter abstracts from her father's keeping a comb, a razor, and another article. when she and her lover fleeing on their horse are hard pressed, the latter throws behind him the comb, which at once becomes a rough impenetrable forest to detain the giant for a while. when he is again on the point of overtaking them, the lover throws behind him the razor, which becomes a steep and sharp mountain ridge through which the pursuing giant has to waste time tunnelling his way. the third article is usually such as, when thrown in the giant's way, becomes a lake in which he is drowned while attempting to swim across. in the kulhwch story, however, as we have it, the allusion to these objects is torn away from what might be expected as its context. the giant is yspadaden penkawr, whose death is effected in another way; but before the giant is finally disposed of he requires to be shaved and to have his hair dressed. his hair, moreover, is so rough that the dressing cannot be done without the comb and shears in the possession of twrch trwyth, whence the hunt; and for the shaving one would have expected the twrch's razor to have been requisite; but not so, as the shaving had to be done by means of another article, namely, the tusk of yskithyrwynn pennbeid, 'white-tusk chief of boars,' for the obtaining of which one is treated briefly to another boar hunt. the kulhwch story is in this respect very mixed and disjointed, owing, it would seem, to the determination of the narrator to multiply the number of things difficult to procure, each involving a separate feat to be described. let us now consider the hunt somewhat more in detail, with special reference to the names mentioned; and let us begin with that of twrch trwyth: the word twrch means the male of a beast of the swine kind, and twrch coed, 'a wood pig,' is a wild boar, while twrch daear, 'an earth pig,' is the word in north wales for a mole. in the next place we can practically equate twrch trwyth with a name at the head of one of the articles in cormac's irish glossary. there the exact form is orc tréith, and the following is the first part of the article itself as given in o'donovan's translation edited by stokes:--'orc tréith, i. e. nomen for a king's son, triath enim rex vocatur, unde dixit poeta oínach n-uirc tréith "fair of a king's son," i. e. food and precious raiment, down and quilts, ale and flesh-meat, chessmen and chessboards, horses and chariots, greyhounds and playthings besides.' in this extract the word orc occurs in the genitive as uirc, and it means a 'pig' or 'boar'; in fact it is, with the usual celtic loss of the consonant p, the exact goidelic equivalent of the latin porcus, genitive porci. from another article in cormac's glossary, we learn that tréith is the genitive of triath, which has been explained to mean a king. thus, orc tréith means triath's orc, triath's boar, or the king's boar; so we take twrch trwyth in the same way to mean 'trwyth's boar.' but we have here a discrepancy, which the reader will have noticed, for twrch is not the same word as irish orc, the nearest form to be expected in welsh being wrch, not twrch; but such a word as wrch does not, so far as i know, exist. now did the welsh render orc by a different word unrelated to the goidelic one which they heard? i think not; for it is remarkable that irish has besides orc a word torc, meaning a 'boar,' and torc is exactly the welsh twrch. so there seems to be no objection to our supposing that what cormac calls orc tréith was known in the goidelic of wales as torc tréith, which had the alliteration to recommend it to popular favour. in that case one could say that the goidelic name torc tréith appears in welsh with a minimum of change as twrch trwyth, and also with the stamp of popular favour more especially in the retention of the goidelic th, just as in the name of an ancient camp or fortification on the withy bush estate in pembrokeshire: it is called the rath, or the rath ring. here rath is identical with the irish word ráth, 'a fortification or earthworks,' and we seem to have it also in cil râth fawr, the name of a farm in the neighbourhood of narberth. now the goidelic word tréith appears to have come into welsh as treth-i, the long vowel of which must in welsh have become oi or ui by about the end of the sixth century; and if the th had been treated on etymological principles its proper equivalent in the welsh of that time would have been d or t. the retention of the th is a proof, therefore, of oral transmission; that is to say, the goidelic word passed bodily into brythonic, to submit afterwards to the phonological rules of that language. a little scrutiny of the tale will, i think, convince the reader that one of the objects of the original story-teller was to account for certain place-names. thus grugyn was meant to account for the name of garth grugyn, where grugyn was killed; gwys, to account similarly for that of gwys, a tributary of the twrch, which gives its name to a station on the line of railway between ystalyfera and bryn amman; and twrch llawin to account for the name of the river twrch, which receives the gwys, and falls into the tawe some distance below ystrad gynlais, between the counties of brecknock and glamorgan. besides grugyn and twrch llawin, there was a third brother to whom the story gives a special name, to wit, llwydawc gouynnyat, and this was, i take it, meant also to account for a place-name, which, however, is not given: it should have been somewhere in ystrad yw, in the county of brecknock. still greater interest attaches to the swine that have not been favoured with names of their own, those referred to simply as banw, 'a young boar,' and benwic, 'a young sow.' now banw has its equivalent in irish in the word banbh, which o'reilly explains as meaning a 'sucking pig,' and that is the meaning also of the manx bannoo; but formerly the word may have had a somewhat wider meaning. the welsh appellative is introduced twice into the story of twrch trwyth; once to account, as i take it, for the name mynyd amanw, 'amman mountain,' and once for dyffryn amanw, 'amman valley.' in both instances amanw was meant, as i think, to be accounted for by the banw killed at each of the places in question. but how, you will ask, does the word banw account for amanw, or throw any light on it at all? very simply, if you will just suppose the name to have been goidelic; for then you have only to provide it with the definite article and it makes in banbh, 'the pig or the boar,' and that could not in welsh yield anything but ymmanw or ammanw [ ], which with the accent shifted backwards, became ammanw and amman or aman. having premised these explanations let us, before we proceed further, see to what our evidence exactly amounts. here, then, we have a mention of seven swine, but as two of them, a banw and a benwic, are killed at one and the same place, our figure is practically reduced to six [ ]. the question then is, in how many of these six cases the story of the hunt accounts for the names of the places of the deaths respectively, that is to say, accounts for them in the ordinary way with which one is familiar in other welsh stories. they may be enumerated as follows:-- . a banw is killed at mynyd amanw. . a twrch is killed in the same neighbourhood, where there is a river twrch. . a swine called gwys is killed in the same neighbourhood still, where there is a river called gwys, falling into the twrch. . a banw and a benwic are killed in dyffryn amanw. . grugyn is killed at a place called garth grugyn. . a swine called llwydawc is killed at a spot, not named, in ystrad yw or not far off [ ]. thus in five cases out of the six, the story accounts for the place-name, and the question now is, can that be a mere accident? just think what the probabilities of the case would be if you put them into numbers: south wales, from st. david's to the vale of the usk, would supply hundreds of place-names as deserving of mention, to say the least, as those in this story; is it likely then that out of a given six among them no less than five should be accounted for or alluded to by any mere accident in the course of a story of the brevity of that of twrch trwyth. to my thinking such an accident is inconceivable, and i am forced, therefore, to suppose that the narrative was originally so designed as to account for them. i said 'originally so designed,' for the scribe of the red book, or let us say the last redactor of the story as it stands in the red book, shows no signs of having noticed any such design. had he detected the play on the names of the places introduced, he would probably have been more inclined to develop that feature of the story than to efface it. what i mean may best be illustrated by another swine story, namely, that which has already been referred to as occurring in the mabinogi of math. there we find pryderi, king of dyfed, holding his court at rhudlan on the teifi, but though he had become the proud possessor of a new race of animals, given him as a present by his friend arawn, king of annwn, he had made a solemn promise to his people, that he should give none of them away until they had doubled their number in dyfed: these animals were the hobeu or pigs to which reference was made at p. above. now gwydion, having heard of them, visited pryderi's court, and by magic and enchantment deceived the king. successful in his quest, he sets out for gwyned with his hobeu, and this is how his journey is described in the mabinogi: 'and that evening they journeyed as far as the upper end of keredigion, to a place which is still called, for that reason, mochdref, "swine-town or pigs' stead." on the morrow they went their way, and came across the elenyd mountains, and that night they spent between kerry and arwystli, in the stead which is also called for that reason mochdref. thence they proceeded, and came the same evening as far as a commot in powys, which is for that reason called mochnant [ ], "swine-burn." thence they journeyed to the cantred of rhôs, and spent that night within the town which is still called mochdref [ ].' 'ah, my men,' said gwydion, 'let us make for the fastness of gwyned with these beasts: the country is being raised in pursuit of us.' so this is what they did: they made for the highest town of arllechwed, and there built a creu or sty for the pigs, and for that reason the town was called creu-wyrion, that is, perhaps, 'wyrion's sty.' in this, it is needless to state, we have the corwrion of chap. i: see pp. , - above--the name is variously pronounced also cyrwrion and c'rwrion. that is how a portion of the math story is made to account for a series of place-names, and had the editor of the kulhwch understood the play on the names of places in question in the story of twrch trwyth, it might be expected that he would have given it prominence, as already suggested. then comes the question, how it came to pass that he did not understand it? the first thing to suggest itself as an answer is, that he may have been a stranger to the geography of the country concerned. that, however, is a very inadequate explanation; for his being a stranger, though it might account for his making blunders as to the localities, would not be likely to deter him from venturing into geography which he had not mastered. what was it, then, that hid from him a portion of the original in this instance? in part, at least, it must have been a difficulty of language. let us take an illustration: gwys has already been mentioned more than once as a name applied to one of twrch trwyth's offspring, and the words used are very brief, to the following effect:--'and then another of his swine was killed: gwys was its name.' as a matter of fact, the scribe was labouring under a mistake, for he ought to have said rather, 'and then another of his swine was killed: it was a sow'; since gwys was a word meaning a sow, and not the name of any individual hog. the word has, doubtless, long been obsolete in welsh; but it was known to the poet of the 'little pig's lullaby' in the black book of carmarthen, where one of the stanzas begins, fo. a, with the line: oian aparchellan. aparchell. guin guis. the late dr. pughe translated it thus: listen, little porkling! thou forward little white pig. i fear i should be obliged to render it less elegantly: lullaby, little porker, white sow porker. for the last four words stokes suggests 'o pigling of a white sow'; but perhaps the most natural rendering of the words would be 'o white porker of a sow!'--which does not recommend itself greatly on the score of sense, i must admit. the word occurs, also, in breton as gwiz or gwéz, 'truie, femelle du porc,' and as gwys or guis in old cornish, while in irish it was feis. nevertheless, the editor of the twrch trwyth story did not know it; but it would be in no way surprising that a welshman, who knew his language fairly well, should be baffled by such a word in case it was not in use in his own district in his own time. this, however, barely touches the fringe of the question. the range of the hunt, as already given, was mostly within the boundaries, so to say, of the portion of south wales where we find goidelic inscriptions in the ogam character of the fifth or sixth century; and i am persuaded that the goidelic language must have lived down to the sixth or seventh century in the south and in the north of wales [ ], a tract of mid-wales being then, probably, the only district which can be assumed to have been completely brythonic in point of speech. in this very story, probably, such a name as garth grugyn is but slightly modified from a goidelic gort grucaind, 'the enclosure of grucand [ ] or grugan': compare cúchulaind or cúchulainn made in welsh into cocholyn. but the capital instance in the story of twrch trwyth as has already been indicated is that of amanw, which i detect also as ammann (probably to be read ammanu), in the book of llan dâv (or liber landavensis), p. : it is there borne by a lay witness to a grant of land called tir dimuner, which would appear to have been in what is now monmouthshire. interpreted as standing for in banbh, 'the boar,' it would make a man's name of the same class as ibleid, found elsewhere in the same manuscript (pp. , ), meaning evidently i bleid, now y blaid, 'the wolf.' but observe that the latter was welsh and the former goidelic, which makes all the difference for our story. the goidel relating the story would say that a boar, banbh, was killed on the mountain or hill of in banbh or of 'the boar'; and his goidelic hearer could not fail to associate the place-name with the appellative. but a brython could hardly understand what the words in banbh meant, and certainly not after he had transformed them into ammanw, with the nb assimilated into mm, and the accent shifted to the first syllable. it is needless to say that my remarks have no meaning unless goidelic was the original language of the tale. in the summary i have given of the hunt, i omitted a number of proper names of the men who fell at the different spots where the twrch is represented brought to bay. i wish now to return to them with the question, why were their names inserted in the story at all? it may be suspected that they also, or at any rate some of them, were intended to explain place-names; but i must confess to having had little success in identifying traces of them in the ordnance maps. others, however, may fare better, who have a better acquaintance with the districts in point, and in that hope i append them in their order in the story:-- . arthur sends to the hunt on the banks of the nevern, in pembrokeshire, his men, eli and trachmyr, gwarthegyd son of caw, and bedwyr; also tri meib cledyv divwlch, 'three sons of the gapless sword.' the dogs are also mentioned: drudwyn, greid son of eri's whelp, led by arthur himself; glythmyr ledewig's two dogs, led by gwarthegyd son of caw; and arthur's dog cavall, led by bedwyr. . twrch trwyth makes for cwm kerwyn in the preselly mountains, and turns to bay, killing the following men, who are called arthur's four rhyswyr [ ] or champions--gwarthegyd son of caw, tarawg of allt clwyd, rheidwn son of eli atver, and iscovan hael. . he turns to bay a second time in cwm kerwyn, and kills gwydre son of arthur, garselid wydel, glew son of yscawt, and iscawyn son of bannon or panon. . next day he is overtaken in the same neighbourhood, and he kills glewlwyd gavaelvawr's three men, huandaw, gogigwr, and penn pingon, many of the men of the country also, and gwlydyn saer, one of arthur's chief architects. . arthur overtakes the twrch next in peuliniauc (p. above); and the twrch there kills madawc son of teithion, gwyn son of tringad son of neued, and eiriawn penlloran. . twrch trwyth next turns to bay at aber towy, 'towy mouth,' and kills cynlas son of cynan, and gwilenhin, king of france. . the next occasion of his killing any men whose names are given, is when he reaches llwch ewin (p. ), near which he killed echel vordwyd-twll, arwyli eil gwydawg gwyr, and many men and dogs besides. . grugyn, one of the twrch's offspring, goes to garth grugyn in keredigion with eli and trachmyr pursuing him; but what happened to them we are not told in consequence of the omission mentioned above (p. ) as occurring in the manuscript. . llwydawc at bay in an uncertain locality kills rudvyw rys [ ] and many others. . llwydawc goes to ystrad yw, where he is met by the men of llydaw, and he kills hirpeissawc, king of llydaw, also llygatrud emys and gwrbothu hên, maternal uncles to arthur. by way of notes on these items, i would begin with the last by asking, what is one to make of these men of llydaw? first of all, one notices that their names are singular: thus hirpeissawc, 'long-coated or long-robed,' is a curious name for their king, as it sounds more like an epithet than a name itself. then llygatrud (also llysgatrud, which i cannot understand, except as a scribal error) emys is also unusual: one would have rather expected emys lygatrud, 'emys the red-eyed.' as it stands it looks as if it meant the 'red-eyed one of emys.' moreover emys reminds one of the name of emyr llydaw, the ancestor in welsh hagiology of a number of welsh saints. it looks as if the redactor of the red book had mistaken an r for an s in copying from a pre-norman original. that he had to work on such a manuscript is proved by the remaining instance, gwrbothu hên, 'g. the ancient,' in which we have undoubtedly a pre-norman spelling of gwrfodw: the same redactor having failed to recognize the name, left it without being converted into the spelling of his own school. in the book of llan dâv it will be found variously written gurbodu, guoruodu, and guruodu. then the epithet hên, 'old or ancient,' reminds one of such instances as math hên and gofynion hên, to be noticed a little later in this chapter. let us now direct the reader's attention for a moment to the word llydaw, in order to see whether that may not suggest something. the etymology of it is contested, so one has to infer its meaning, as well as one can, from the way in which it is found used. now it is the ordinary welsh word for brittany or little britain, and in irish it becomes letha, which is found applied not only to armorica but also to latium. conversely one could not be surprised if a goidel, writing latin, rendered his own letha or the welsh llydaw by latium, even when no part of italy was meant. now it so happens that llydaw occurs in wales itself, to wit in the name of llyn llydaw, a snowdonian lake already mentioned, p. . it is thus described by pennant, ii. :--'we found, on arriving at the top, an hollow a mile in length, filled with llyn llydaw, a fine lake, winding beneath the rocks, and vastly indented by rocky projections, here and there jutting into it. in it was one little island, the haunt of black-backed gulls, which breed here, and, alarmed by such unexpected visitants, broke the silence of this sequestered place by their deep screams.' but since pennant's time mining operations [ ] have been carried on close to the margin of this lake; and in the course of them the level of the water is said to have been lowered to the extent of sixteen feet, when, in the year , an ancient canoe was discovered there. according to the late mr. e. l. barnwell, who has described it in the archæologia cambrensis for , pp. - , it was in the possession of dr. griffith griffith of tal y treudyn, near harlech, who exhibited it at the cambrian archæological association's meeting at machynlleth in [ ]. 'it measures,' mr. barnwell says, 'nine feet nine inches--a not uncommon length in the scotch early canoes,--and has been hollowed out of one piece of wood, as is universally the case with these early boats.' he goes on to surmise that 'this canoe may have been used to reach the island, for the sake of birds or eggs; or what is not impossible, the island may have been the residence of some one who had reasons for preferring so isolated an abode. it may, in fact, have been a kind of small natural crannog, and, in one sense, a veritable lake-dwelling, access to and from which was easy by means of such a canoe.' stokes conjectures llydaw to have meant coast-land, and thurneysen connects it with the sanskrit prthivi and old saxon folda [ ], 'earth': and, so far as i can see, one is at liberty to assume a meaning that would satisfy llydaw, 'armorica,' and the llydaw of llyn llydaw, 'the lake of llydaw,' namely that it signified land which one had to reach by boat, so that it was in fact applicable to a lake settlement of any kind, in other words, that llydaw on snowdon was the name of the lake-dwelling. so i cannot help suggesting, with great deference, that the place whence came the men of llydaw in the story of the hunting of twrch trwyth was the settlement in syfadon lake (p. ), and that the name of that stronghold, whether it was a crannog or a stockaded islet, was also llydaw. for the power of that settlement over the surrounding country to have extended a few miles around would be but natural to suppose--the distance between the yw and llyn syfadon is, i am told, under three miles. should this guess prove well founded, we should have to scan with renewed care the allusions in our stories to llydaw, and not assume that they always refer us to brittany. that the name llydaw did on occasion refer to the region of llyn syfadon admits of indirect proof as follows:--the church of llangorse on its banks is dedicated to a saint paulinus, after whom also is called capel peulin, in the upper course of the towy, adjacent to the cardiganshire parish of llandewi brefi. moreover, tradition makes paulinus attend a synod in at llandewi brefi, where st. david distinguished himself by his preaching against pelagianism. paulinus was then an old man, and st. david had been one of his pupils at the ty gwyn, 'whitland,' on the taf, where paulinus had established a religious house [ ]; and some five miles up a tributary brook of the taf is the church of llandysilio, where an ancient inscription mentions a paulinus. these two places, whitland and llandysilio, were probably in the cymwd of peuliniog, which is called after a paulinus, and through which we have just followed the hunt of twrch trwyth (p. ). now the inscription to which i have referred reads [ ], with ligatures:-- clvtorigi fili pavlini marinilatio this probably means '(the monument) of clutorix, son of paulinus from latium in the marsh'; unless one ought rather to treat marini as an epithet to paulini. in either case latio has probably to be construed 'of or from latium': compare a roman inscription found at bath (hübner's no. ), which begins with c. murrius. | c. f. arniensis | foro. iuli. modestus [ ], and makes in english, according to mr. haverfield, 'gaius murrius modestus, son of gaius, of the tribe arniensis, of the town forum iulii.' the easiest way to explain the last line as a whole is probably to treat it as a compound with the qualifying word deriving its meaning, not from mare, 'the sea,' but from the late latin mara, 'a marsh or bog.' thus marini-latium would mean 'marshy latium,' to distinguish it from latium in italy, and from letha or llydaw in the sense of brittany, which was analogously termed in medieval irish armuirc letha [ ], that is the armorica of letha. this is borne out by the name of the church of paulinus, which is in welsh llan y gors, anglicized llangorse, 'the church of the marsh or bog,' and that is exactly the meaning of the name given it in the taxatio of pope nicholas, which is that of ecclesia de mara. in other terms, we have in the qualified latium of the inscription the latium or letha which came to be called in welsh llydaw. it is, in my opinion, from that settlement as their head quarters, that the men of llydaw sallied forth to take part in the hunt in ystrad yw, where the boar llwydog was killed. the idea that the story of twrch trwyth was more or less topographical is not a new one. lady charlotte guest, in her mabinogion, ii. - , traces the hunt through several places called after arthur, such as buarth arthur, 'arthur's cattle-pen,' and bwrd arthur, 'arthur's table,' besides others more miscellaneously named, such as twyn y moch, 'the swine's hill,' near the source of the amman, and llwyn y moch, 'the swine's grove,' near the foot of the same eminence. but one of the most remarkable statements in her note is the following:--'another singular coincidence may be traced between the name of a brook in this neighbourhood, called echel, and the echel fordwyttwll who is recorded in the tale as having been slain at this period of the chase.' i have been unable to discover any clue to a brook called echel, but one called egel occurs in the right place; so i take it that lady charlotte guest's informants tacitly identified the name with that of echel. substantially they were probably correct, as the egel, called ecel in the dialect of the district, flows into the upper clydach, which in its turn falls into the tawe near pont ar dawe. as the next pool mentioned is llwch tawe, i presume it was some water or other which drained into the tawe in this same neighbourhood. the relative positions of llwch ewin, the egel, and llwch tawe as indicated above offer no apparent difficulty. the goidelic name underlying that of echel was probably some such a one as eccel or ecell; and ecell occurs, for instance, in the book of the dun cow, fo. b, as the name of a noble or prince. in rendering this name into welsh as echel, due regard was had for the etymological equivalence of goidelic cc or c to welsh ch, but the unbroken oral tradition of a people changing its language by degrees from goidelic to welsh was subject to no such influence, especially in the matter of local names; so the one here in question passed into welsh as eccel, liable only to be modified into egel. in any case, one may assume that the death of the hero echel was introduced to account for the name of the brook egel. indications of something similar in the linguistic sense occur in the part of the narrative relating the death of grugyn, at garth grugyn. this boar is pursued by two huntsmen called eli and trachmyr, the name of the former of whom reminds one of garth eli, in the parish of llandewi brefi. possibly the original story located at garth eli the death of eli, or some other incident in which grugyn was concerned; but the difficulty here is that the exact position of garth grugyn is still uncertain. lastly, our information as to the hunting of twrch trwyth is not exclusively derived from the kulhwch, for besides an extremely obscure poem about the twrch in the book of aneurin, a manuscript of the thirteenth century, we have one item given in the mirabilia associated with the historia brittonum of nennius, § , and this carries us back to the eighth century. it reads as follows:-- est aliud mirabile in regione quæ dicitur buelt. est ibi cumulus lapidum, et unus lapis superpositus super congestum, cum vestigio canis in eo. quando venatus est porcum troit, impressit cabal, qui erat canis arthuri militis, vestigium in lapide, et arthur postea congregavit congestum lapidum sub lapide in quo erat vestigium canis sui, et vocatur carn cabal. et veniunt homines et tollunt lapidem in manibus suis per spacium diei et noctis, et in crastino die invenitur super congestum suum. 'another wonder there is in the district called buallt: there is there a heap of stones, and one stone is placed on the top of the pile with the footmark of a dog in it. cafall, the dog of the warrior arthur, when chasing the pig trwyd printed the mark of his foot on it, and arthur afterwards collected a heap of stones underneath the stone in which was the footmark of his dog, and it is called cafall's cairn. and men come and take the stone away in their hands for the space of a day and a night, and on the following day the stone is found on the top of its heap [ ].' lady charlotte guest, in a note to the kulhwch story in her mabinogion, ii. , appears to have been astonished to find that carn cavall, as she writes it, was no fabulous mound but an actual 'mountain in the district of builth, to the south of rhayader gwy, and within sight of that town.' she went so far as to persuade one of her friends to visit the summit, and he begins his account of it to her with the words: 'carn cavall, or as it is generally pronounced corn cavall, is a lofty and rugged mountain.' on one of the cairns on the mountain he discovered what may have been the very stone to which the mirabilia story refers; but the sketch with which he accompanied his communication cannot be said to be convincing, and he must have been drawing on his imagination when he spoke of this somewhat high hill as a lofty mountain. moreover his account of its name only goes just far enough to be misleading: the name as pronounced in the neighbourhood of rhayader is corn gafallt by welsh-speaking people, and corn gavalt by monoglot englishmen. so it is probable that at one time the pronunciation was carn gavall [ ]. but to return to the incident recorded by nennius, one has to remark that it does not occur in the kulhwch; nor, seeing the position of the hill, can it have been visited by arthur or his dog in the course of the twrch trwyth hunt as described by the redactor of the story in its present form. this suggests the reflection not only that the twrch story is very old, but that it was put together by selecting certain incidents out of an indefinite number, which, taken all together, would probably have formed a network covering the whole of south wales as far north as the boundary of the portion of mid-wales occupied by the brythons before the roman occupation. in other words, the goidels of this country had stories current among them to explain the names of the places with which they were familiar; and it is known that was the case with the goidels of ireland. witness the place-name legends known in medieval irish as dindsenchas, with which the old literature of ireland abounds. on what principle the narrator of the kulhwch made his selection from the repertoire i cannot say; but one cannot help seeing that he takes little interest in the details, and that he shows still less insight into the etymological motif of the incidents which he mentions. however, this should be laid mainly to the charge, perhaps, of the early medieval redactor. among the reasons which have been suggested for the latter overlooking and effacing the play on the place-names, i have hinted that he did not always understand them, as they sometimes involved a language which may not have been his. this raises the question of translation: if the story was originally in goidelic, what was the process by which it passed into brythonic? two answers suggest themselves, and the first comes to this: if the story was in writing, we may suppose a literary man to have sat down to translate it word for word from goidelic to brythonic, or else to adapt it in a looser fashion. in either case, one should suppose him a master of both languages, and capable of doing justice to the play on the place-names. but it is readily conceivable that the fact of his understanding both languages might lead him to miscalculate what was exactly necessary to enable a monoglot brython to grasp his meaning clearly. moreover, if the translator had ideas of his own as to style, he might object on principle to anything like an explanation of words being interpolated in the narrative. in short, one could see several loopholes through which a little confusion might force itself in, and prevent the monoglot reader or hearer of the translation from correctly grasping the story at all points as it was in the original. the other view, and the more natural one, as i think, is that we should postulate the interference of no special translator, but suppose the story, or rather a congeries of stories, to have been current among the natives of a certain part of south wales, say the loughor valley, at a time when their language was still goidelic, and that, as they gradually gave up goidelic and adopted brythonic, they retained their stories and translated the narrative, while they did not always translate the place-names occurring in that narrative. thus, for instance, would arise the discrepancy between banw and amanw, the latter of which to be welsh should have been rendered y banw, 'the boar.' if this is approximately what took place, it is easy to conceive the possibility of many points of nicety being completely effaced in the course of such a rough process of transformation. in one or two small matters it happens that we can contrast the community as translator with the literary individual at work: i allude to the word trwyth. that vocable was not translated, not metaphoned, if i may so term it, at all at the time: it passed, when it was still treth-i, from goidelic into brythonic, and continued in use without a break; for the changes whereby treth-i has become trwyth have been such as other words have undergone in the course of ages, as already stated. on the other hand, the literary man who knew something of the two languages seems to have reasoned, that where a goidelic th occurred between vowels, the correct etymological equivalent in brythonic was t, subject to be mutated to d. so when he took the name over he metaphoned treth-i into tret-i, whence we have the porcus troit of nennius, and twrch trwyd [ ] in welsh poetry: these troit and trwyd were the literary forms as contrasted with the popular trwyth. now, if my surmises as to echel and egel are near the truth, their history must be similar; that is to say, echel would be the literary form and ecel, egel the popular one respectively of the goidelic ecell. a third parallel offers itself in the case of the personal name arwyli, borne by one of echel's companions: the arwyl of that name has its etymological equivalent in the arwystl- of arwystli, the name of a district comprising the eastern slopes of plinlimmon, and represented now by the deanery of arwystli. so arwystli challenges comparison with the irish airgialla or airgéill, anglicized oriel, which denotes, roughly speaking, the modern counties of armagh, louth, and monaghan. for here we have the same prefix ar placed in front of one and the same vocable, which in welsh is gwystl, 'a hostage,' and in irish giall, of the same meaning and origin. the reader will at once think of the same word in german as geisel, 'a hostage,' old high german gisal. but the divergence of sound between arwystl-i and arwyl-i arises out of the difference of treatment of sl in welsh and irish. in the brythonic district of mid-wales we have arwystli with sl treated in the brythonic way, while in arwyli we have the combination treated in the goidelic way, the result being left standing when the speakers of goidelic in south wales learnt brythonic [ ]. careful observation may be expected to add to the number of these instructive instances. it is, however, not to be supposed that all double forms of the names in these stories are to be explained in exactly the same way. thus, for instance, corresponding to lug, genitive loga, we have the two forms lleu and llew, of which the former alone matches the irish. but it is to be observed that lleu remains in some verses [ ] in the story of math, whereas in the prose he appears to be called llew. it is not improbable that the editing which introduced llew dates comparatively late, and that it was done by a man who was not familiar with the venedotian place-names of which lleu formed part, namely, dinlleu and nantlleu, now dinlle and nantlle. similarly the two brothers, gofannon and amaethon, as they are called in the mabinogi of math and in the kulhwch story, are found also called gofynyon and amathaon. the former agrees with the irish form goibniu, genitive goibnenn, whereas gofannon does not. as to amaethon or amathaon the irish counterpart has, unfortunately, not been identified. gofannon and amaethon have the appearance of being etymologically transparent in welsh, and they have probably been remodelled by the hand of a literary redactor. there were also two forms of the name of manawydan in welsh; for by the side of that there was another, namely, manawydan, liable to be shortened to manawyd: both occur in old welsh poetry [ ]. but manawyd or mynawyd is the welsh word for an awl, which is significant here, as the mabinogi called after manawydan makes him become a shoemaker on two occasions, whence the triads style him one of the three golden shoemakers of the isle of prydain: see the oxford mabinogion, p. . what has happened in the way of linguistic change in one of our stories, the kulhwch, may have happened in others, say in the four branches of the mabinogi, namely, pwyll, prince of dyved; branwen, daughter of llyr; math, son of mathonwy; and manawydan, son of llyr. some time ago i endeavoured to show that the principal characters in the mabinogi of math, namely, the sons and daughters of dôn, are to be identified as a group with the tuatha dé danann, 'tribes of the goddess danu or donu,' of irish legend. i called attention to the identity of our welsh dôn with the irish donu, genitive donann, gofynion or gofannon with goibniu, genitive goibnenn, and of lleu or llew with lug. since then professor zimmer has gone further, and suggested that the mabinogion are of irish origin; but that i cannot quite admit. they are of goidelic origin, but they do not come from the irish or the goidels of ireland: they come rather, as i think, from this country's goidels, who never migrated to the sister island, but remained here eventually to adopt brythonic speech. there is no objection, however, so far as this argument is concerned, to their being regarded as this country's goidels descended either from native goidels or from early goidelic invaders from ireland, or else partly from the one origin and partly from the other. this last is perhaps the safest view to accept as a working hypothesis. now professor zimmer fixes on that of mathonwy, among other names, as probably the welsh adaptation of some such an irish name as the genitive mathgamnai [ ], now anglicized mahony. this i am also prepared to accept in the sense that the welsh form is a loan from a goidelic one current some time or other in this country, and represented in irish by mathgamnai. the preservation of goidelic th in mathonwy stamps it as ranking with trwyth, egel, and arwyli, as contrasted with a form etymologically more correct, of which we seem to have an echo in the breton names madganoe and madgone [ ]. another name which i am inclined to regard as brought in from goidelic is that of gilvaethwy, son of dôn: it would seem to involve some such a word as the irish gilla, 'a youth, an attendant or servant,' and some form of the goidelic name maughteus or mochta, so that the name gilla-mochtai meant the attendant of mochta. this last vocable appears in irish as the name of several saints, but previously it was probably that of some pagan god of the goidels, and its meaning was most likely the same as that of the irish participial mochta, which stokes explains as 'magnified, glorified': see his calendar of oengus, p. ccxiv, and compare the name mael-mochta. adamnan, in his vita s. columbæ, writes the name maucteus in the following passage, pref. ii. p. :-- nam quidam proselytus brito, homo sanctus, sancti patricii episcopi discipulus, maucteus nomine, ita de nostro prophetizavit patrono, sicuti nobis ab antiquis traditum expertis compertum habetur. this saint, who is said to have prophesied of st. columba and died in the year , is described in his life (aug. ) as ortus ex britannia [ ], which, coupled with adamnan's brito, probably refers him to wales; but it is remarkable that nevertheless he bore the very un-brythonic name of mochta or mauchta [ ]. to return to the mabinogion: i have long been inclined to identify llwyd, son of kilcoed, with the irish liath, son of celtchar, of cualu in the present county of wicklow. liath, whose name means 'grey,' is described as the comeliest youth of noble rank among the fairies of erin; and the only time the welsh llwyd, whose name also means 'grey,' appears in the mabinogion he is ascribed, not the comeliest figure, it is true, or the greatest personal beauty, but the most imposing disguise of a bishop attended by his suite: he was a great magician. the name of his father, kil-coet, seems to me merely an inexact popular rendering of celtchar, the name of liath's father: at any rate one fails here to detect the touch of the skilled translator or literary redactor. [ ] but the mabinogi of manawydan, in which llwyd figures, is also the one in which pryderi king of dyfed's wife is called kicua or cigfa, a name which has no claim to be regarded as brythonic. it occurs early, however, in the legendary history of ireland: the four masters, under the year a.m. , mention a ciocbha as wife of a son of parthalon; and the name seems to be related to that of a man called cioccal, a.m. . lastly, manawydan, from whom the mabinogi takes its name, is called mab llyr, 'son of llyr,' in welsh, and manannán mac lir in irish. similarly with his brother brân, and his sister branwen, except that she has not been identified in irish story. but in irish literature the genitive lir, as in mac lir, 'son of ler,' is so common, and the nominative so rare, that lir came to be treated in late irish as the nominative too; but a genitive of the form lir suggests a nominative-accusative ler, and as a matter of fact it occurs, for instance, in the couplet:-- fer co n-ilur gnim dar ler labraid luath lam ar claideb [ ]. a man of many feats beyond sea, labraid swift of hand on sword is he. so it seems probable that the welsh llyr [ ] is no other word than the goidelic genitive lir, retained in use with its pronunciation modified according to the habits of the welsh language; and in that case [ ] it forms comprehensive evidence, that the stories about the llyr family in welsh legend were goidelic before they put on a brythonic garb. as to the mabinogion generally, one may say that they are devoted to the fortunes chiefly of three powerful houses or groups, the children of dôn, the children of llyr, and pwyll's family. this last is brought into contact with the llyr group, which takes practically the position of superiority. pwyll's family belonged chiefly to dyfed; but the power and influence of the sons of llyr had a far wider range: we find them in anglesey, at harlech, in gwales or the isle of grasholm off pembrokeshire, at aber henvelen somewhere south of the severn sea, and in ireland. but the expedition to ireland under brân, usually called bendigeituran, 'brân [ ] the blessed,' proved so disastrous that the llyr group, as a whole, disappears, making way for the children of dôn. these last came into collision with pwyll's son, pryderi, in whose country manawydan, son of llyr, had ended his days. pryderi, in consequence of gwydion's deceit (pp. , , ), makes war on math and the children of dôn: he falls in it, and his army gives hostages to math. thus after the disappearance of the sons of llyr, the children of dôn are found in power in their stead in north wales [ ], and that state of things corresponds closely enough to the relation between the tuatha dé danann and the lir family in irish legend. there lir and his family are reckoned in the number of the tuatha dé danann, but within that community lir was so powerful that it was considered but natural that he should resent a rival candidate being elected king in preference to him. so the tuatha dé took pains to conciliate lir, as did also their king, who gave his daughter to lir to wife, and when she died he gave him another of his daughters [ ]; and with the treatment of her stepchildren by that deceased wife's sister begins one of the three sorrowful tales of erin, known to english readers as the fate of the children of lir. but the reader should observe the relative position: the tuatha dé remain in power, while the children of lir belong to the past, which is also the sequence in the mabinogion. possibly this is not to be considered as having any significance, but it is to be borne in mind that the lir-llyr group is strikingly elemental in its patronymic lir, llyr. the nominative, as already stated, was ler, 'sea,' and so cormac renders mac lir by filius maris. how far we may venture to consider the sea to have been personified in this context, and how early, it is impossible to say. in any case it is deserving of notice that one group of goidels to this day do not say mac lir, 'son of lir,' filium maris, but always 'son of the lir': i allude to the gaels of the isle of man, in whose language manannán mac lir is always mannanan mac y lir, or as they spell it, lear; that is to say 'mannanan, son of the ler.' manxmen have been used to consider manannan their eponymous hero, and first king of their island: they call him more familiarly mannanan beg mac y lear, 'little mannanan, son of the ler'. this we may, though no manxman of the present day attaches any meaning to the word lir or lear, interpreted as 'little mannanan, son of the sea.' the wanderings at large of the children of lir before being eclipsed by the danann-dôn group, remind one of the story of the labours of hercules, where it relates that hero's adventures on his return from robbing geryon of his cattle. pomponius mela, ii. (p. ), makes hercules on that journey fight in the neighbourhood of aries with two sons of poseidon or neptune, whom he calls (in the accusative) albiona and bergyon. to us, with our more adequate knowledge of geography, the locality and the men cannot appear the most congruous, but there can hardly be any mistake as to the two personal names being echoes of those of albion and iverion, britain and ireland. the whole cycle of the mabinogion must have appeared strange to the story-teller and the poet of medieval wales, and far removed from the world in which they lived. we have possibly a trace of this feeling in the epithet hên, 'old, ancient,' given to math in a poem in the red book of hergest, where we meet with the line [ ]:-- gan uath hen gan gouannon. with math the ancient, with gofannon. similarly in the confused list of heroes which the story-teller of the kulhwch (mabinogion, p. ) was able to put together, we seem to have gofannon, math's relative, referred to under the designation of gouynyon hen, 'gofynion the ancient.' to these might be added others, such as gwrbothu hên, mentioned above, p. , and from another source lleu hen [ ], 'llew the ancient.' so strange, probably, and so obscure did some of the contents of the stories themselves seem to the story-tellers, that they may be now and then suspected of having effaced some of the features which it would have interested us to find preserved. this state of things brings back to my mind words of matthew arnold's, to which i had the pleasure of listening more years ago than i care to remember. he was lecturing at oxford on celtic literature, and observing 'how evidently the mediæval story-teller is pillaging an antiquity of which he does not fully possess the secret; he is like a peasant,' matthew arnold went on to say, 'building his hut on the site of halicarnassus or ephesus; he builds, but what he builds is full of materials of which he knows not the history, or knows by a glimmering tradition merely--stones "not of this building," but of an older architecture, greater, cunninger, more majestical. in the mediæval stories of no latin or teutonic people does this strike one as in those of the welsh.' this becomes intelligible only on the theory of the stories having been in goidelic before they put on a welsh dress. when saying that the mabinogion and some of the stories contained in the kulhwch, such as the hunting of twrch trwyth, were goidelic before they became brythonic, i wish to be understood to use the word goidelic in a qualified sense. for till the brythons came, the goidels were, i take it, the ruling race in most of the southern half of britain, with the natives as their subjects, except in so far as that statement has to be limited by the fact, that we do not know how far they and the natives had been amalgamating together. in any case, the hostile advent of another race, the brythons, would probably tend to hasten the process of amalgamation. that being so, the stories which i have loosely called goidelic may have been largely aboriginal in point of origin, and by that i mean native, pre-celtic and non-aryan. it comes to this, then: we cannot say for certain whose creation brân, for instance, should be considered to have been--that of goidels or of non-aryan natives. he sat, as the mabinogi of branwen describes him, on the rock of harlech, a figure too colossal for any house to contain or any ship to carry. this would seem to challenge comparison with cernunnos, the squatting god of ancient gaul, around whom the other gods appear as mere striplings, as proved by the monumental representations in point. in these [ ] he sometimes appears antlered like a stag; sometimes he is provided either with three normal heads or with one head furnished with three faces; and sometimes he is reduced to a head provided with no body, which reminds one of brân, who, when he had been rid of his body in consequence of a poisoned wound inflicted on him in his foot in the slaughter of the meal-bag pavilion, was reduced to the urdawl ben, 'venerable or dignified head,' mentioned in the mabinogi of branwen [ ]. the mabinogi goes on to relate how brân's companions began to enjoy, subject to certain conditions, his 'venerable head's' society, which involved banquets of a fabulous duration and of a nature not readily to be surpassed by those around the holy grail. in fact here we have beyond all doubt one of the heathen originals of which the grail is a christian version. but the multiplicity of faces or heads of the gaulish divinity find their analogues in a direction hitherto unnoticed as far as i know, namely, among the letto-slavic peoples of the baltic sea-board. thus the image of svatovit in the island of rügen is said to have had four faces [ ]; and the life of otto of bamberg relates [ ] how that high-handed evangelist proceeded to convert the ancient prussians to christianity. among other things we are told how he found at stettin an idol called triglaus, a word referring to the three heads for which the god was remarkable. the saint took possession of the image and hewed away the body, reserving for himself the three heads, which are represented adhering together, forming one piece. this he sent as a trophy to rome, and in rome it may be still. were it perchance to be found, it might be expected to show a close resemblance to the tricephal of the gaulish altar found at beaune in burgundy. before closing this chapter a word may be permitted as to the goidelic element in the history of wales: it will come again before the reader in a later chapter, but what has already been advanced or implied concerning it may here be recapitulated as follows:-- it has been suggested that the hereditary dislike of the brython for the goidel argues their having formerly lived in close proximity to one another: see p. above. the tradition that the cave treasures of the snowdon district belong by right to the goidels, means that they were formerly supposed to have hidden them away when hard pressed by the brythons: see pp. - above. the sundry instances of a pair of names for a single person or place, one goidelic (brythonicized) still in use, and the other brythonic (suggested by the goidelic one), literary mostly and obsolete, go to prove that the goidels were not expelled, but allowed to remain to adopt brythonic speech. evidence of the indebtedness of story-tellers in wales to their brethren of the same profession in ireland is comparatively scarce; and almost in every instance of recent research establishing a connexion between topics or incidents in the arthurian romances and the native literature of ireland, the direct contact may be assumed to have been with the folklore and legend of the goidelic inhabitants of wales, whether before or after their change of language. probably the folklore and mythology of the goidels of wales and of ireland were in the mass much the same, though in some instances they reach us in different stages of development: thus in such a case as that of dôn and danu (genitive danann) the welsh allusions in point refer to dôn at a conspicuously earlier stage of her rôle than that represented by the irish literature touching the tuatha dé danann [ ]. the common point of view from which our ancestors liked to look at the scenery around them is well illustrated by the fondness of the goidel, in wales and ireland alike, for incidents to explain his place-names. he required the topography--indeed he requires it still, and hence the activity of the local etymologist--to connote story or history: he must have something that will impart the cold light of physical nature, river and lake, moor and mountain, a warmer tint, a dash of the pathetic element, a touch of the human, borrowed from the light and shade of the world of imagination and fancy in which he lives and dreams. chapter x difficulties of the folklorist for priests, with prayers and other godly gear, have made the merry goblins disappear; and, where they played their merry pranks before, have sprinkled holy water on the floor.--dryden. the attitude of the kymry towards folklore and popular superstitions varies according to their training and religious views; and i distinguish two classes of them in this respect. first of all, there are those who appear to regret the ebb of the tide of ancient beliefs. they maintain that people must have been far more interesting when they believed in the fairies; and they rave against sunday schools and all other schools for having undermined the ancient superstitions of the peasantry: it all comes, they say, of over-educating the working classes. of course one may occasionally wish servant maids still believed that they might get presents from the fairies for being neat and tidy; and that, in the contrary case of their being sluts, they would be pinched black and blue during their sleep by the little people: there may have been some utility in beliefs of that kind. but, if one takes an impartial view of the surroundings in which this kind of mental condition was possible, no sane man could say that the superstitious beliefs of our ancestors conduced on the whole to their happiness. fancy a state of mind in which this sort of thing is possible:--a member of the family is absent, let us say, from home in the evening an hour later than usual, and the whole household is thrown into a panic because they imagine that he has strayed on fairy ground, and has been spirited away to the land of fairy twilight, whence he may never return; or at any rate only to visit his home years, or maybe ages, afterwards, and then only to fall into a heap of dust just as he has found out that nobody expects or even knows him. or take another instance:--a man sets out in the morning on an important journey, but he happens to sneeze, or he sees an ill-omened bird, or some other dreaded creature, crossing his path: he expects nothing that day but misfortune, and the feeling of alarm possibly makes him turn back home, allowing the object of his journey to be sacrificed. that was not a satisfactory state of things or a happy one, and the unhappiness might be wholly produced by causes over which the patient had absolutely no control, so long at any rate as the birds of the air have wings, and so long as sneezing does not belong to the category of voluntary actions. then i might point to the terrors of magic; but i take it to be unnecessary to dwell on such things, as most people have heard about them or read of them in books. on the whole it is but charitable to suppose that those who regret the passing away of the ages of belief and credulity have not seriously attempted to analyse the notions which they are pleased to cherish. now, as to the other class of people, namely, those who object to folklore in every shape and form, they may be roughly distinguished into different groups, such as those to whom folklore is an abomination, because they hold that it is opposed to the bible, and those who regard it as too trivial to demand the attention of any serious person. i have no occasion for many words with the former, since nearly everything that is harmful in popular superstition has ceased in wales to be a living force influencing one's conduct; or if this be not already the case, it is fast becoming so. those therefore who condemn superstitions have really no reason to set their faces against the student of folklore: it would be just as if historians were to be boycotted because they have, in writing history--frequently, the more the pity--to deal with dark intrigues, cruel murders, and sanguinary wars. besides, those who study folklore do not thereby help to strengthen the hold of superstition on the people. i have noticed that any local peculiarity of fashion, the moment it becomes known to attract the attention of strangers, is, one may say, doomed: a celt, like anybody else, does not like to be photographed in a light which may perchance show him at a disadvantage. it is much the same, i think, with him as the subject of the studies of the folklorist: hence the latter has to proceed with his work very quietly and very warily. if, then, i pretended to be a folklorist, which i can hardly claim to be, i should say that i had absolutely no quarrel with him who condemns superstition on principle. on the other hand, i should not consider it fair of him to regard me as opposed to the progress of the race in happiness and civilization, just because i am curious to understand its history. with regard to him, however, who looks at the collecting and the studying of folklore as trivial work and a waste of time, i should gather that he regards it so on account, first perhaps, of his forgetting the reality their superstitions were to those who believed in them; and secondly, on account of his ignorance of their meaning. as a reality to those who believed in them, the superstitions of our ancestors form an integral part of their history. however, i need not follow that topic further by trying to show how 'the proper study of mankind is man,' and how it is a mark of an uncultured people not to know or care to know about the history of the race. so the ancient roman historian, tacitus, evidently thought; for, when complaining how little was known as to the original peopling of britain, he adds the suggestive words ut inter barbaros, 'as usual among barbarians.' conversely, i take it for granted that no liberally educated man or woman of the present day requires to be instructed as to the value of the study of history in all its aspects, or to be told that folklore cannot be justly called trivial, seeing that it has to do with the history of the race--in a wider sense, i may say with the history of the human mind and the record of its development. as history has been mentioned, it may be here pointed out that one of the greatest of the folklorist's difficulties is that of drawing the line between story and history. nor is that the worst of it; for the question as between fact and fiction, hard as it is in itself, is apt to be further complicated by questions of ethnology. this may be illustrated by reference to a group of legends which project a vanishing distinction between the two kindred races of brythons and goidels in wales; and into the story of some of them arthur is introduced playing a principal rôle. they seem to point to a time when the goidels had as yet wholly lost neither their own language nor their own institutions in north wales: for the legends belong chiefly to gwyned, and cluster especially around snowdon, where the characteristics of the goidel as the earlier celt may well have lingered latest, thanks to the comparatively inaccessible nature of the country. one of these legends has already been summarized as representing arthur marching up the side of snowdon towards bwlch y saethau, where he falls and is buried under a cairn named from him carned arthur: see p. . we are not told who his enemies were; but with this question has usually been associated the late triad, iii. , which alludes to arthur meeting in nanhwynain with medrawd or medrod (modred) and idawc corn prydain, and to his being betrayed, for the benefit and security of the saxons in the island. an earlier reference to the same story occurs in the dream of rhonabwy in the red book of hergest [ ], in which idawc describes himself as idawc son of mynio, and as nicknamed idawc cord prydain--which means 'idawc the churn-staff of prydain'--in reference presumably to his activity in creating dissension. he confesses to having falsified the friendly messages of arthur to medrod, and to succeeding thereby in bringing on the fatal battle of camlan, from which idawc himself escaped to do penance for seven years on the llech las, 'grey stone [ ],' in prydain or pictland. another story brings arthur and the giant rhita into collision, the latter of whom has already been mentioned as having, according to local tradition, his grave on the top of snowdon: see pp. - . the story is a very wild one. two kings who were brothers, nyniaw or nynio and peibiaw or peibio, quarrelled thus: one moonlight night, as they were together in the open air, nynio said to peibio, 'see, what a fine extensive field i possess.' 'where is it?' asked peibio. 'there it is,' said nynio, 'the whole firmament.' 'see,' said peibio, 'what innumerable herds of cattle and sheep i have grazing in thy field.' 'where are they?' asked nynio. 'there they are,' said peibio, 'the whole host of stars that thou seest, each of golden brightness, with the moon shepherding them.' 'they shall not graze in my field,' said nynio. 'but they shall,' said peibio; and the two kings got so enraged with one another, that they began a war in which their warriors and subjects were nearly exterminated. then comes rhita gawr, king of wales, and attacks them on the dangerous ground of their being mad. he conquered them and shaved off their beards [ ]; but when the other kings of prydain, twenty-eight in number, heard of it, they collected all their armies together to avenge themselves on rhita for the disgrace to which he had subjected the other two. but after a great struggle rhita conquers again, and has the beards of the other kings shaved. then the kings of neighbouring kingdoms in all directions combined to make war on rhita to avenge the disgrace to their order; but they were also vanquished forthwith, and treated in the same ignominious fashion as the thirty kings of prydain. with the beards he had a mantle made to cover him from head to foot, and that was a good deal, we are told, since he was as big as two ordinary men. then rhita turned his attention to the establishment of just and equitable laws as between king and king and one realm with another [ ]. but the sequel to the shaving is related by geoffrey of monmouth, x. , where arthur is made to tell how the giant, after destroying the other kings and using their beards in the way mentioned, asked him for his beard to fix above the other beards, as he stood above them in rank, or else to come and fight a duel with him. arthur, as might be expected, chose the latter course, with the result that he slew rhita, there called ritho, at a place said to be in aravio monte, by which the welsh translator understood the chief mountain of eryri [ ] or snowdon. so it is but natural that his grave should also be there, as already mentioned. i may here add that it is the name snowdon itself, probably, that underlies the senaudon or sinadoun of such arthurian romances as the english version of libeaus desconus, though the place meant has been variously supposed to be situated elsewhere than in the snowdon district: witness sinodun hill in berkshire [ ]. the story of rhita is told also by malory, who calls that giant ryons and ryence; and there the incident seems to end with ryons being led to arthur's court by knights who had overcome him. ryons' challenge, as given by malory [ ], runs thus:-- 'this meane whyle came a messager from kynge ryons of northwalys. and kynge he was of all ireland and of many iles. and this was his message gretynge wel kynge arthur in this manere wyse sayenge . that kynge ryons had discomfyte and ouercome xj kynges . and eueryche of hem did hym homage . and that was this . they gaf hym their berdys clene flayne of . as moche as ther was . wherfor the messager came for kyng arthurs berd. for kyng ryons had purfyled a mantel with kynges berdes . and there lacked one place of the mantel . wherfor he sente for his berd or els he wold entre in to his landes . and brenne and slee . & neuer leue tyl he haue the hede and the berd.' rhita is not said, it is true, to have been a gwydel, 'goidel'; but he is represented ruling over ireland, and his name, which is not welsh, recalls at first sight those of such men as boya the pict or scot figuring in the life of st. david, and such as llia gvitel, 'llia the goidel,' mentioned in the stanzas of the graves in the black book of carmarthen as buried in the seclusion of ardudwy [ ]. malory's ryons is derived from the french romances, where, as for example in the merlin, according to the huth ms., it occurs as rion-s in the nominative, and rion in régime. the latter, owing to the old french habit of eliding d or th, derives regularly enough from such a form as the accusative rithon-em [ ], which is the one occurring in geoffrey's text; and we should probably be right in concluding therefrom that the correct old welsh form of the name was rithon. but the goidelic form was at the same time probably ritta, with a genitive rittann, for an earlier ritton. lastly, that the local legend should perpetuate the goidelic ritta slightly modified, has its parallel in the case of trwyd and trwyth, and of echel and egel or ecel, pp. - and - . the next story [ ] points to a spot between y dinas or dinas emrys and llyn y dinas as containing the grave of owen y mhacsen, that is to say, 'owen son of maxen.' owen had been fighting with a giant--whose name local tradition takes for granted--with balls of steel; and there are depressions (panylau [ ]) still to be seen in the ground where each of the combatants took his stand. some, however, will have it that it was with bows and arrows they fought, and that the hollows are the places they dug to defend themselves. the result was that both died at the close of the conflict; and owen, being asked where he wished to be buried, ordered an arrow to be shot into the air and his grave to be made where it fell. the story is similarly given in the iolo mss., pp. - , where the combatants are called owen findu ab macsen wledig, 'owen of the dark face, son of prince maxen,' and eurnach hen, 'e. the ancient,' one of the gwydyl or 'goidels' of north wales, and otherwise called urnach wydel. he is there represented as father ( ) of the serrigi defeated by catwallawn or cadwallon law-hir, 'c. the long-handed,' at cerrig y gwydyl, 'the stones of the goidels,' near malldraeth [ ], in anglesey, where the great and final rout of the goidels is represented as having taken place [ ]; ( ) of daronwy, an infant spared and brought up in anglesey to its detriment, as related in the other story, p. ; and ( ) of solor, who commands one of the three cruising fleets of the isle of prydain [ ]. the stronghold of eurnach or urnach is said to have been dinas ffaraon, which was afterwards called din emreis and dinas emrys. the whole story about the goidels in north wales, however, as given in the iolo mss., pp. - , is a hopeless jumble, though it is probably based on old traditions. in fact, one detects eurnach or urnach as wrnach or gwrnach in the story of kulhwch and olwen [ ] in the red book, where we are told that kei or cai, and others of arthur's men, got into the giant's castle and cut off his head in order to secure his sword, which was one of the things required for the hunting of twrch trwyth. in an obscure passage, also in a poem in the black book, we read of cai fighting in the hall of this giant, who is then called awarnach [ ]. some such a feat appears to have been commemorated in the place-name gwryd cai, 'cai's feat of arms,' which occurs in llewelyn's grant of certain lands on the bedgelert and pen gwryd side of snowdon in to the monks of aberconwy, or rather in an inspeximus of the same: see dugdale's monasticon, v. a, where it stands printed gwryt, kei. nor is it unreasonable to guess that pen gwryd is only a shortening of pen gwryd cai, 'cai's feat knoll or terminus'; but compare p. above. before leaving cai i may point out that tradition seems to ascribe to him as his residence the place called caer gai, 'cai's fort,' between bala and llanuwchllyn. if one may treat cai as a historical man, one may perhaps suppose him, or some member of his family, commemorated by the vocable burgocavi on an old stone found at caer gai, and said to read: ic iacit salvianus burgocavi filius cupitiani [ ]--'here lies salvianus burgocavis, son of cupitianus.' the reader may also be referred back to such non-brythonic and little known figures as daronwy, cathbalug, and brynach, together perhaps with mengwaed, the wolf-lord of arllechwed, pp. - . it is worth while calling attention likewise to goidelic indications afforded by the topography of eryri, to wit such cases as bwlch mwrchan or mwlchan, 'mwrchan's pass,' sometimes made into bwlch mwyalchen or even bwlch y fwyalchen, 'the ousel's gap,' near llyn gwynain; the remarkable remains called muriau'r dre, 'the town walls'--otherwise known as tre'r gwydelod [ ], 'the goidels' town'--on the land of gwastad annas at the top of nanhwynain; and bwlch y gwydel, still higher towards pen gwryd, may have meant the 'goidel's pass.' probably a study of the topography on the spot would result in the identification of more names similarly significant; but i will call attention to only one of them, namely bedgelert or, as it is locally pronounced, bethgelart, though the older spellings of the name appear to be beth kellarth and beth kelert. those who are acquainted with the story, as told there, of the man who rashly killed his hound might think that bedgelert, 'gelert or kelert's grave,' refers to the hound; but there is a complete lack of evidence to show this widely known story to have been associated with the neighbourhood by antiquity [ ]; and the compiler of the notes and pedigrees known as boned y saint was probably right in treating kelert as the name of an ancient saint: see the myvyr. arch., ii. . in any case, kelert or gelert with its rt cannot be a genuine welsh name: the older spellings seem to indicate two pronunciations--a goidelic one, kelert, and a welsh one, kelarth or kellarth, which has not survived. the documents, however, in which the name occurs require to be carefully examined for the readings which they supply. lastly, from the goidels of arfon must not be too violently severed those of mona, among whom we have found, pp. - , the mysterious cathbalug, whose name, still half unexplained, reminds one of such irish ones as cathbuadach, 'battle-victorious or conquering in war'; and to the same stratum belongs daronwy, p. , which survives as the name of a farm in the parish of llanfachreth. the record of carnarvon, p. , speaks both of a molendinum de darronwy et cornewe, 'mill of daronwy [ ] and cornwy,' and of villæ de dorronwy et kuwghdornok, 'vills of daronwy and of the cnwch dernog,' which has been mentioned as now pronounced clwch dernog, p. : it is situated in the adjoining parish of llandeusant. the name is given in the same record as dernok, and is doubtless to be identified with the ternóc not very uncommon in irish hagiology. with these names the record further associates a holding called wele conus, and conus survives in weun gonnws, the name of a field on the farm of bron heulog, adjoining clwch dernog. that is not all, for connws turns out to be the welsh pronunciation of the goidelic name cunagussus, of which we have the latinized genitive on the bodfedan menhir, some distance north-east of the railway station of ty croes. it reads: cvnogvsi hic iacit, 'here lies (the body) of cunagussus,' and involves a name which has regularly become in irish conghus, while the native welsh equivalent would be cynwst [ ]. these names, and one [ ] or two more which might be added to them, suggest a very goidelic population as occupying, in the fifth or sixth century, the part of the island west of a line from amlwch to malldraeth. lastly, the chronological indications of the crushing of the power of the goidels, and the incipient merging of that people with the brythons into a single nation of kymry or 'compatriots,' are worthy of a passing remark. we seem to find the process echoed in the triads when they mention as a favourite at arthur's court the lord of arllechwed, named menwaed, who has been guessed, p. above, to have been a goidel. then serrigi and daronwy are signalized as contemporaries of cadwallon law-hir, who inflicted on the former, according to the later legend, the great defeat of cerrig y gwydyl [ ]. the name, however, of the leader of the goidels arrayed against cadwallon may be regarded as unknown, and serrigi as a later name, probably of norse origin, introduced from an account of a tenth century struggle with invaders from the scandinavian kingdom of dublin [ ]. in this conqueror we have probably all that can be historical of the caswallon of the mabinogion of branwen and manawydan, that is, the caswallon who ousts the goidelic family of llyr from power in this country, and makes pryderi of dyfed pay homage to him as supreme king of the island. his name has there undergone assimilation to that of cassivellaunos, and he is furthermore represented as son of beli, king of prydain in the days of its independence, before the advent of the legions of rome. but as a historical man we are to regard caswallon probably as cadwallon law-hir, grandson of cuneda and father of maelgwn of gwyned. now cuneda and his sons, according to nennius (§ ), expelled the goidels with terrible slaughter; and one may say, with the triads, which practically contradict nennius' statement as to the goidels being expelled, that cuneda's grandson continued the struggle with them. in any case there were goidels still there, for the book of taliessin seems to give evidence [ ] of a persistent hostility, on the part of the goidelic bards of gwyned, to maelgwn and the more brythonic institutions which he may be regarded as representing. this brings the goidelic element down to the sixth century [ ]. maelgwn's death took place, according to the oldest manuscript of the annales cambriæ, in the year , or ten years after the battle of camlan--in which, as it says, arthur and medrod fell. now some of this is history and some is not: where is the line to be drawn? in any case, the attempt to answer that question could not be justly met with contempt or treated as trivial. the other cause, to which i suggested that contempt for folklore was probably to be traced, together with the difficulties springing therefrom to beset the folklorist's paths, is one's ignorance of the meaning of many of the superstitions of our ancestors. i do not wish this to be regarded as a charge of wilful ignorance; for one has frankly to confess that many old superstitions and superstitious practices are exceedingly hard to understand. so much so, that those who have most carefully studied them cannot always agree with one another in their interpretation. at first sight, some of the superstitions seem so silly and absurd, that one cannot wonder that those who have not gone deeply into the study of the human mind should think them trivial, foolish, or absurd. it is, however, not improbable that they are the results of early attempts to think out the mysteries of nature; and our difficulty is that the thinking was so infantile, comparatively speaking, that one finds it hard to put one's self back into the mental condition of early man. but it should be clearly understood that our difficulty in ascertaining the meaning of such superstitions is no proof whatsoever that they had no meaning. the chief initial difficulty, however, meeting any one who would collect folklore in wales arises from the fact that various influences have conspired to laugh it out of court, so to say, so that those who are acquainted with superstitions and ancient fads become ashamed to own it: they have the fear of ridicule weighing on their minds, and that is a weight not easily removed. i can recall several instances: among others i may mention a lady who up to middle age believed implicitly in the existence of fairies, and was most anxious that her children should not wander away from home at any time when there happened to be a mist, lest the fairies should carry them away to their home beneath a neighbouring lake. in her later years, however, it was quite useless for a stranger to question her on these things: fairy lore had been so laughed out of countenance in the meantime, that at last she would not own, even to the members of her own family, that she remembered anything about the fairies. another instance in point is supplied by the story of castellmarch, and by my failure for a whole fortnight to elicit from the old blacksmith of aber soch the legend of march ab meirchion with horse's ears. of course i can readily understand the old man's shyness in repeating the story of march. science, however, knows no such shyness, as it is her business to pry into everything and to discover, if possible, the why and wherefore of all things. in this context let me for a moment revert to the story of march, silly as it looks:--march was lord of castellmarch in lleyn, and he had horse's ears; so lest the secret should be known, every one who shaved him was killed forthwith; and in the spot where the bodies were buried there grew reeds, which a bard cut in order to provide himself with a pipe. the pipe when made would give no music but words meaning march has horse's ears! there are other forms of the story, but all substantially the same as that preserved for us by llwyd (pp. - ), except that one of them resembles more closely the irish version about to be summarized. it occurs in a manuscript in the peniarth collection, and runs thus:--march had horse's ears, a fact known to nobody but his barber, who durst not make it known for fear of losing his head. but the barber fell ill, so that he had to call in a physician, who said that the patient was being killed by a secret; and he ordered him to tell it to the ground. the barber having done so became well again, and fine reeds grew on the spot. one day, as the time of a great feast was drawing nigh, certain of the pipers of maelgwn gwyned coming that way saw the reeds, some of which they cut and used for their pipes. by-and-by they had to perform before king march, when they could elicit from their pipes no strain but 'horse's ears for march ab meirchion' (klvstiav march i varch ab meirchion). hence arose the saying--'that is gone on horns and pipes' (vaeth hynny ar gyrn a ffibav), which was as much as to say that the secret is become more than public [ ]. the story, it is almost needless to say, can be traced also in cornwall and in brittany [ ]; and not only among the brythonic peoples of those countries, but among the goidels of ireland likewise. the irish story runs thus [ ]:--once on a time there was a king over ireland whose name was labraid lorc, and this is the manner of man he was--he had two horse's ears on him. and every one who shaved the king used to be slain forthwith. now the time of shaving him drew nigh one day, when the son of a widow in the neighbourhood was enjoined to do it. the widow went and besought the king that her son should not be slain, and he promised her that he would be spared if he would only keep his secret. so it came to pass; but the secret so disagreed with the widow's son that he fell ill, and nobody could divine the cause until a druid came by. he at once discovered that the youth was ill of an uncommunicated secret, and ordered him to go to the meeting of four roads. 'let him,' said he, 'turn sunwise, and the first tree he meets on the right side let him tell the secret to it, and he will be well.' this you might think was quite safe, as it was a tree and not his mother, his sister, or his sweetheart; but you would be quite mistaken in thinking so. the tree to which the secret was told was a willow; and a famous irish harper of that day, finding he wanted a new harp, came and cut the makings of a harp from that very tree; but when the harp was got ready and the harper proceeded to play on it, not a note could he elicit but 'labraid lorc has horse's ears!' as to the barber's complaint, that was by no means unnatural: it has often been noticed how a secret disagrees with some natures, and how uneasy and restless it makes them until they can out with it. the same thing also, in an aggravated form, occurs now and then to a public man who has prepared a speech in the dark recesses of his heart, but has to leave the meeting where he intended to have it out, without finding his opportunity. our neighbours on the other side of the channel have a technical term for that sort of sufferer: they say of him that he is malade d'un discours rentré, or ill of a speech which has gone into the patient's constitution, like the measles or the small-pox when it fails to come out. but to come back to the domain of folklore, i need only mention the love-lorn knights in malory's morte darthur, who details their griefs in doleful strains to solitary fountains in the forests: it seems to have relieved them greatly, and it sometimes reached other ears than those of the wells. now with regard to him of the equine ears, some one might thoughtlessly suggest, that, if it ever became a question of improving this kind of story, one should make the ears into those of an ass. as a matter of fact there was a greek story of this kind, and in that story the man with the abnormal head was called midas, and his ears were said to be those of an ass. the reader will find him figuring in most collections of greek stories; so i need not pursue the matter further, except to remark that the exact kind of brute ears was possibly a question which different nations decided differently. at any rate stokes mentions a serbian version in which the ears were those of a goat. what will, however, occur to everybody to ask, is--what was the origin of such a story? what did it mean, if it had a meaning? various attempts have been made to interpret this kind of story, but nobody, so far as i know, has found a sure key to its meaning. the best guess i can make has been suggested in a previous chapter, from which it will be seen that the horse fits the welsh context, so to say, best, the goat less well, and the ass probably least of all: see pp. - above. supposing, then, the interpretation of the story established for certain, the question of its origin would still remain. did it originate among the celts and the greeks and other nations who relate it? or has it simply originated among one of those peoples and spread itself to the others? or else have they all inherited it from a common source? if we take the supposition that it originated independently among a variety of people in the distant past, then comes an interesting question as to the conditions under which it arose, and the psychological state of the human race in the distant past. on the other supposition one is forced to ask: did the celts get the story from the greeks, or the greeks from the celts, or neither from either, but from a common source? also when and how did the variations arise? in any case, one cannot help seeing that a story like the one i have instanced raises a variety of profoundly difficult and interesting questions. hard as the folklorist may find it to extract tales and legends from the people of wales at the present day, there is one thing which he finds far more irritating than the taciturnity of the peasant, and that is the hopeless fashion in which some of those who have written about welsh folklore have deigned to record the stories which were known to them. take as an instance the following, which occurs in howells' cambrian superstitions, pp. - :-- 'in cardiganshire there is a lake, beneath which it is reported that a town lies buried; and in an arid summer, when the water is low, a wall, on which people may walk, extending across the lake is seen, and supposed to appertain to the inundated city or town; on one side is a gigantic rock, which appears to have been split, as there is a very extensive opening in it, which nearly divides it in twain, and which tradition relates was thus occasioned:--once upon a time there was a person of the name of pannog, who had two oxen, so large that their like was never known in any part of the world, and of whom it might be said, they ne'er will look upon their like again. it chanced one day that one of them (and it appears that they were not endued with a quantum of sense proportionate to their bulk) was grazing near a precipice opposite the rock, and whether it was his desire to commit suicide, or to cool his body by laving in the lake below, one knows not, but certain it is that down he plunged, and was never seen more: his partner searching for him a short time after, and not perceiving any signs of his approach, bellowed almost as loud as the father of the gods, who when he spake "earth to his centre shook"; however, the sound of his bleating [sic] split the opposite rock, which from the circumstance is called uchain pannog (pannog's oxen). these oxen were said to be two persons, called in wales, nyniaf and phebiaf, whom god turned into beasts for their sins. here it is clear that mr. howells found a portion, if not the whole, of his story in welsh, taken partly from the kulhwch story, and apparently in the old spelling; for his own acquaintance with the language did not enable him to translate nynnya a pheiba into 'nynio and peibio.' the slenderness of his knowledge of welsh is otherwise proved throughout his book, especially by the way in which he spells welsh words: in fact one need not go beyond this very story with its uchain pannog. but when he had ascertained that the lake was in cardiganshire he might have gone a little further and have told his readers which lake it was. it is not one of the lakes which i happen to know in the north of the county--llyn llygad y rheidol on plinlimmon, or the lake on moel y llyn to the north of cwm ceulan, or either of the iwan lakes which drain into the merin (or meri), a tributary of the mynach, which flows under pont ar fynach, called in english the devil's bridge. from inquiry i cannot find either that it is any one of the pools in the east of the county, such as those of the teifi, or llyn ferwyn, not far from the gorge known as cwm berwyn, mentioned in edward richards' well known lines, p. :-- mae'n bwrw' 'nghwm berwyn a'r cysgod yn estyn, gwna heno fy mwthyn yn derfyn dy daith. it rains in cwm berwyn, the shadows are growing, to-night make my cabin the end of thy journey. there is, it is true, a pool at a place called maes y llyn in the neighbourhood of tregaron, as to which there is a tradition that a village once occupied the place of its waters: otherwise it shows no similarity to the lake of howells' story. then there is a group of lakes in which the river aeron takes its rise: they are called llyn eidwen, llyn fanod, and llyn farch. as to llyn eidwen, i had it years ago that at one time there was a story current concerning 'wild cattle,' which used to come out of its waters and rush back into them when disturbed. in the middle of this piece of water, which has a rock on one side of it, is a small island with a modern building on it; and one would like to know whether it shows any traces of early occupation. then as to llyn farch, there is a story going that there came out of it once on a time a wonderful animal, which was shot by a neighbouring farmer. lastly, at llyn fanod there are boundary walls which go right out into the lake; and my informant thinks the same is the case with llyn eidwen [ ]. one of these walls is probably what in howells' youthful hands developed itself into a causeway. the other part of his story, referring to the lowing of the bannog oxen, comes from a well known doggerel which runs thus:-- llan dewi frefi fraith [ ], lle brefod yr ych naw gwaith, nes hollti craig y foelallt. llandewi of brefi the spotted, where bellowed the ox nine times, till the foelallt rock split in two. brefi is the name of the river from which this llandewi takes its distinctive name; and it is pronounced there much the same as brefu, 'the act of lowing, bellowing, or bleating.' now the brefi runs down through the foelallt farm, which lies between two very big rocks popularly fancied to have been once united, and treated by howells, somewhat inconsistently, as the permanent forms taken by the two oxen. the story which howells seems to have jumbled up with that of one or more lake legends, is to be found given in samuel rush meyrick's county of cardigan: see pp. - , where one reads of a wild tradition that when the church was building there were two oxen to draw the stone required; and one of the two died in the effort to drag the load, while the other bellowed nine times and thereby split the hill, which before presented itself as an obstacle. the single ox was then able to bring the load unassisted to the site of the church. it is to this story that the doggerel already given refers; and, curiously enough, most of the district between llandewi and ystrad fflur, or strata florida, is more or less associated with the ychen bannog. thus a ridge running east and west at a distance of some three miles from tregaron, and separating upper and lower caron from one another, bears the name of cwys yr ychen bannog, or the furrow of the ychen bannog. it somewhat resembles in appearance an ancient dyke, but it is said to be nothing but 'a long bank of glacial till [ ].' moreover there used to be preserved within the church of llandewi a remarkable fragment of a horn commonly called madcorn yr ych bannog, 'the mabcorn or core of the bannog ox's horn.' it is now in the possession of mr. parry of llidiardau, near aberystwyth; and it has been pronounced by prof. boyd dawkins to have belonged to 'the great urus (bos primigenius), that charlemagne hunted in the forests of aachen, and the monks of st. galle ate on their feast days.' he adds that the condition of the horn proves it to have been derived from a peat bog or alluvium [ ]. on the whole, it seems to me probable that the wild legends about the ychen bannog [ ] in cardiganshire have underlying them a substratum of tradition going back to a time when the urus was not as yet extinct in wales. how far the urus was once treated in this country as an emblem of divinity, it is impossible to say; but from ancient gaul we have such a name as urogeno-nertus [ ], meaning a man of the strength of an urogen, that is, of the offspring of a urus; not to mention the gaulish tarvos trigaranus, or the bull with three cranes on his back. with this divine animal m. d'arbois de jubainville would identify the donnos underlying such gallo-roman names as donnotaurus, and that of the wonderful bull called donn in the principal epic story of ireland [ ], where we seem to trace the same element in the river-name given by ptolemy as mo-donnos, one of the streams of wicklow, or else the slaney. this would be the earliest instance known of the prefixing of the pronoun mo, 'my,' in its reverential application, which was confined in later ages to the names of goidelic saints. to return, however, to the folklorist's difficulties, the first thing to be done is to get as ample a supply of folklore materials as possible; and here i come to a point at which some of the readers of these pages could probably help; for we want all our folklore and superstitions duly recorded and rescued from the yawning gulf of oblivion, into which they are rapidly and irretrievably dropping year by year, as the oldest inhabitant passes away. some years ago i attempted to collect the stories still remembered in wales about fairies and lake dwellers; and i seem to have thrown some amount of enthusiasm into that pursuit. at any rate, one editor of a welsh newspaper congratulated me on being a thorough believer in the fairies. unfortunately, i was not nearly so successful in recommending myself as a believer to the old people who could have related to me the kind of stories i wanted. nevertheless, the best plan i found was to begin by relating a story about the fairies myself: if that method did not result in eliciting anything from the listener, then it was time to move on to try the experiment on another subject. among the things which i then found was the fact, that most of the well known lakes and tarns of wales were once believed to have had inhabitants of a fairy kind, who owned cattle that sometimes came ashore and mixed with the ordinary breeds, while an occasional lake lady became the wife of a shepherd or farmer in the neighbourhood. there must, however, be many more of these legends lurking in out of the way parts of wales in connexion with the more remote mountain tarns; and it would be well if they were collected systematically. one of the most complete and best known of these lake stories is that of llyn y fan fach in the beacons of carmarthenshire, called in welsh bannau sir gaer. the story is so much more circumstantial than all the others, that it has been placed at the beginning of this volume. next to it may be ranked that of the ystrad dyfodwg pool, now known as llyn y forwyn, the details of which have only recently been unearthed for me by a friend: see pp. - above. well, in the fan fach legend the lake lady marries a young farmer from mydfai, on the carmarthenshire side of the range; and she is to remain his wife so long as he lives without striking her three times without cause. when that happens, she leaves him and calls away with her all her live stock, down to the little black calf in the process of being flayed; for he suddenly dons his hide and hurries away after the rest of the stock into the lake. the three blows without cause seem to belong to a category of very ancient determinants which have been recently discussed, with his usual acumen and command of instances from other lands, by mr. hartland, in the chapters on the swan maidens in his science of fairy tales. but our south welsh story allows the three blows only a minimum of force; and in north wales the determinant is of a different kind, though probably equally ancient: for there the husband must not strike or touch the fairy wife with anything made of iron, a condition which probably points back to the stone age. for archæologists are agreed, that before metal, whether iron or bronze, was used in the manufacturing of tools, stone was the universal material for all cutting tools and weapons. but as savages are profoundly conservative in their habits, it is argued that on ceremonial and religious occasions knives of stone continued to be the only ones admissible long after bronze ones had been in common use for ordinary purposes. take for example the text of exodus iv. , where zipporah is mentioned circumcising her son with a flint. from instances of the kind one may comprehend the sort of way in which iron came to be regarded as an abomination and a horror to the fairies. the question will be found discussed by mr. hartland at length in his book mentioned above: see more especially pp. - . such, to my mind, are some of the questions to which the fairies give rise: i now wish to add another turning on the reluctance of the fairies to disclose their names. there is one story in particular which would serve to illustrate this admirably; but it is one which, i am sorry to say, i have never been able to discover complete or coherent in wales. the substance of it should be, roughly speaking, as follows:--a woman finds herself in great distress and is delivered out of it by a fairy, who claims as reward the woman's baby. on a certain day the baby will inevitably be taken by the fairy unless the fairy's true name is discovered by the mother. the fairy is foiled by being in the meantime accidentally overheard exulting, that the mother does not know that his or her name is rumpelstiltzchen, or whatever it may be in the version which happens to be in question. the best known version is the german one, where the fairy is called rumpelstiltzchen; and it will be found in the ordinary editions of grimm's märchen. the most complete english version is the east anglian one published by mr. edward clodd, in his recent volume entitled tom tit tot, pp. - ; and previously in an article full of research headed 'the philosophy of rumpelstiltskin,' in folk-lore for , pp. - . it is first to be noted that in this version the fairy's name is tom tit tot, and that the german and the east anglian stories run parallel. they agree in making the fairy a male, in which they differ from our welsh silly frit and silly go dwt: in what other respect the story of our silly differed from that of rumpelstiltzchen and tom tit tot it is, in the present incomplete state of the welsh one, impossible to say. here it may be found useful to recall the fragments of the welsh story: ( ) a fairy woman used to come out of corwrion pool to spin on fine summer days, and whilst spinning she sang or hummed to herself sìli ffrit, sìli ffrit--it does not rise even to a doggerel couplet: see p. above. ( ) a farmer's wife in lleyn used to have visits from a fairy woman who came to borrow things from her; and one day when the goodwife had lent her a troell bach, or wheel for spinning flax, she asked the fairy to give her name, which she declined to do. she was, however, overheard to sing to the whir of the wheel as follows (p. ):-- bychan a wyda' hi little did she know mai sìli go dwt that silly go dwt yw f'enw i. is my name. this throws some light on silly frit, and we know where we are; but the story is inconsequent, and far from representing the original. we cannot, however, reconstruct it quite on the lines of grimm's or clodd's version. but i happened to mention my difficulty one day to dr. j. a. h. murray, when he assured me of the existence of a scottish version in which the fairy is a female. he learnt it when he was a child, he said, at denholm, in roxburghshire; and he was afterwards charmed to read it in robert chambers' popular rhymes of scotland (edinburgh, ), pp. - , whence mr. clodd has given an abstract of it in his 'philosophy of rumpelstiltskin.' among those popular rhymes the reader will find it as related at length by nurse jenny in her inimitable fashion; but the scotch is so broad, that i think it advisable, at the risk of some havoc to the local colouring, to southronize it somewhat as follows:-- 'i see that you are fond of talks about fairies, children; and a story about a fairy and the goodwife of kittlerumpit has just come into my mind; but i can't very well tell you now whereabouts kittlerumpit lies. i think it is somewhere in the debatable ground; anyway i shall not pretend to know more than i do, like everybody nowadays. i wish they would remember the ballad we used to sing long ago:-- mony ane sings the gerss, the gerss, and mony ane sings the corn; and mony ane clatters o' bold robin hood, ne'er kent where he was born. but howsoever about kittlerumpit: the goodman was a rambling sort of body; and he went to a fair one day, and not only never came home again, but nevermore was heard of. some said he 'listed, and others that the tiresome pressgang snatched him up, though he was furnished with a wife and a child to boot. alas! that wretched pressgang! they went about the country like roaring lions, seeking whom they might devour. well do i remember how my eldest brother sandy was all but smothered in the meal-chest, hiding from those rascals. after they were gone, we pulled him out from among the meal, puffing and crying, and as white as any corpse. my mother had to pick the meal out of his mouth with the shank of a horn spoon. 'ah well, when the goodman of kittlerumpit was gone, the goodwife was left with small means. little resources had she, and a baby boy at her breast. all said they were sorry for her; but nobody helped her--which is a common case, sirs. howsoever the goodwife had a sow, and that was her only consolation; for the sow was soon to farrow, and she hoped for a good litter. 'but we all know hope is fallacious. one day the woman goes to the sty to fill the sow's trough; and what does she find but the sow lying on her back, grunting and groaning, and ready to give up the ghost. 'i trow this was a new pang to the goodwife's heart; so she sat down on the knocking-stone [ ], with her bairn on her knee, and cried sorer than ever she did for the loss of her own goodman. 'now i premise that the cottage of kittlerumpit was built on a brae, with a large fir-wood behind it, of which you may hear more ere we go far on. so the goodwife, when she was wiping her eyes, chances to look down the brae; and what does she see but an old woman, almost like a lady, coming slowly up the road. she was dressed in green, all but a short white apron and a black velvet hood, and a steeple-crowned beaver hat on her head. she had a long walking-staff, as long as herself, in her hand--the sort of staff that old men and old women helped themselves with long ago; i see no such staffs now, sirs. 'ah well, when the goodwife saw the green gentlewoman near her, she rose and made a curtsy; and "madam," quoth she, weeping, "i am one of the most misfortunate women alive." '"i don't wish to hear pipers' news and fiddlers' tales, goodwife," quoth the green woman. "i know you have lost your goodman--we had worse losses at the sheriff muir [ ]; and i know that your sow is unco sick. now what will you give me if i cure her?" '"anything your ladyship's madam likes," quoth the witless goodwife, never guessing whom she had to deal with. '"let us wet thumbs on that bargain," quoth the green woman; so thumbs were wetted, i warrant you; and into the sty madam marches. 'she looks at the sow with a long stare, and then began to mutter to herself what the goodwife couldn't well understand; but she said it sounded like-- pitter patter, holy water. 'then she took out of her pocket a wee bottle, with something like oil in it; and she rubs the sow with it above the snout, behind the ears, and on the tip of the tail. "get up, beast," quoth the green woman. no sooner said than done--up jumps the sow with a grunt, and away to her trough for her breakfast. 'the goodwife of kittlerumpit was a joyful goodwife now, and would have kissed the very hem of the green woman's gowntail; but she wouldn't let her. "i am not so fond of ceremonies," quoth she; "but now that i have righted your sick beast, let us end our settled bargain. you will not find me an unreasonable, greedy body--i like ever to do a good turn for a small reward: all i ask, and will have, is that baby boy in your bosom." 'the goodwife of kittlerumpit, who now knew her customer, gave a shrill cry like a stuck swine. the green woman was a fairy, no doubt; so she prays, and cries, and begs, and scolds; but all wouldn't do. "you may spare your din," quoth the fairy, "screaming as if i was as deaf as a door-nail; but this i'll let you know--i cannot, by the law we live under, take your bairn till the third day; and not then, if you can tell me my right name." so madam goes away round the pig-sty end; and the goodwife falls down in a swoon behind the knocking-stone. 'ah well, the goodwife of kittlerumpit could not sleep any that night for crying, and all the next day the same, cuddling her bairn till she nearly squeezed its breath out; but the second day she thinks of taking a walk in the wood i told you of; and so with the bairn in her arms, she sets out, and goes far in among the trees, where was an old quarry-hole, grown over with grass, and a bonny spring well in the middle of it. before she came very near, she hears the whirring of a flax wheel, and a voice singing a song; so the woman creeps quietly among the bushes, and peeps over the brow of the quarry; and what does she see but the green fairy tearing away at her wheel, and singing like any precentor:-- little kens our guid dame at hame, that whuppity stoorie is my name. '"ha, ha!" thinks the woman, "i've got the mason's word at last; the devil give them joy that told it!" so she went home far lighter than she came out, as you may well guess--laughing like a madcap with the thought of cheating the old green fairy. 'ah well, you must know that this goodwife was a jocose woman, and ever merry when her heart was not very sorely overladen. so she thinks to have some sport with the fairy; and at the appointed time she puts the bairn behind the knocking-stone, and sits on the stone herself. then she pulls her cap over her left ear and twists her mouth on the other side, as if she were weeping; and an ugly face she made, you may be sure. she hadn't long to wait, for up the brae climbs the green fairy, neither lame nor lazy; and long ere she got near the knocking-stone she screams out--"goodwife of kittlerumpit, you know well what i come for--stand and deliver!" 'the woman pretends to cry harder than before, and wrings her hands, and falls on her knees, with "och, sweet madam mistress, spare my only bairn, and take the wretched sow!" '"the devil take the sow, for my part," quoth the fairy; "i come not here for swine's flesh. don't be contramawcious, huzzy, but give me the child instantly!" '"ochone, dear lady mine," quoth the crying goodwife; "forgo my poor bairn, and take me myself!" '"the devil is in the daft jade," quoth the fairy, looking like the far end of a fiddle; "i'll bet she is clean demented. who in all the earthly world, with half an eye in his head, would ever meddle with the likes of thee?" 'i trow this set up the woman of kittlerumpit's bristle: for though she had two blear eyes and a long red nose besides, she thought herself as bonny as the best of them. so she springs off her knees, sets the top of her cap straight, and with her two hands folded before her, she makes a curtsy down to the ground, and, "in troth, fair madam," quoth she, "i might have had the wit to know that the likes of me is not fit to tie the worst shoe-strings of the high and mighty princess, whuppity stoorie." 'if a flash of gunpowder had come out of the ground it couldn't have made the fairy leap higher than she did; then down she came again plump on her shoe-heels; and whirling round, she ran down the brae, screeching for rage, like an owl chased by the witches. 'the goodwife of kittlerumpit laughed till she was like to split; then she takes up her bairn, and goes into her house, singing to it all the way:-- a goo and a gitty, my bonny wee tyke, ye'se noo ha'e your four-oories; sin' we've gien nick a bane to pyke, wi' his wheels and his whuppity stoories.' that is practically chambers' version of this scottish story; and as to the name of the fairy whuppity stoorie, the first syllable should be the equivalent of english whip, while stoor is a scotch word for dust in motion: so the editor asks in a note whether the name may not have originated in the notion 'that fairies were always present in the whirls of dust occasioned by the wind on roads and in streets [ ].' but he adds that another version of the story calls the green woman fittletetot, which ends with the same element as the name tom tit tot and silly go dwt. perhaps, however, the welsh versions of the story approached nearest to one from mochdrum in wigtownshire, published in the british association's papers of the liverpool meeting, , p. . this story was contributed by the rev. walter gregor, and the name of the fairy in it is marget totts: in this we have a wife, who is in great distress, because her husband used to give her so much flax to spin by such and such a day, that the work was beyond human power. a fairy comes to the rescue and takes the flax away, promising to bring it back spun by the day fixed, provided the woman can tell the fairy's name. the woman's distress thereupon becomes as great as before, but the fairy was overheard saying as she span, 'little does the guidwife ken it, my name is marget totts.' so the woman got her flax returned spun by the day; and the fairy, marget totts, went up the chimney in a blaze of fire as the result of rage and disappointment. here one cannot help seeing that the original, of which this is a clumsy version, must have been somewhat as follows little does the guidwife wot that my name is marget tot. to come back to wales, we have there the names silly frit and silly go dwt, which are those of females. the former name is purely english--silly frit, which has been already guessed (p. ) to mean a silly sprite, or silly apparition, with the idea of its being a fright of a creature to behold: compare the application elsewhere to a fairy changeling of the terms crimbil (p. ) and cyrfaglach or cryfaglach (p. ), which is explained as implying a haggard urchin that has been half starved and stunted in its growth. leaving out of the reckoning this connotation, one might compare the term with the scottish habit of calling the fairies silly wights, 'the happy wights.' see j. jamieson's scottish dictionary, where s. v. seily, seely, 'happy,' he purports to quote the following lines from 'the legend of the bishop of st. androis' in a collection of scottish poems of the sixteenth century (edinburgh, ), pp. - :-- for oght the kirk culd him forbid, he sped him sone, and gat the thrid; ane carling of the quene of phareis, that ewill win gair to elphyne careis, through all braid albane scho hes bene, on horsbak on hallow ewin; and ay in seiking certayne nyghtis, as scho sayis, with sur [read our] sillie wychtis. similarly, he gives the fairies the name of seely court, and cites as illustrating it the following lines from r. jamieson's popular ballads, (i. , and) ii. :-- but as it fell out on last hallowe'en, when the seely court was ridin' by, the queen lighted down on a gowan bank, nae far frae the tree where i wont to lye. into welsh, however, the designation silly frit must have come, not from scotland, but from the marches; and the history of sìli go dwt must be much the same. for, though construed as welsh, the name would mean the silly who is go dwt [ ], 'somewhat tidy or natty'; but the dwt (mutated from twt) was suggested doubtless by the tot of such fairy names as tom tit tot. that brings me to another group, where the syllable is trot or trut, and this we have in the welsh doggerel, mentioned at p. , as follows:-- bychan a wyda' hi little did she know mai trwtyn-tratyn that trwtyn tratyn yw f'enw i. is my name. but this name trwtyn-tratyn sounds masculine, and not that of a she-fairy such as silly frit. the feminine would have been trwtan-tratan in the carnarvonshire pronunciation, and in fact trwtan is to be heard there; but more frequently a kind of derivative trwdlan, meaning an ungainly sort of woman, a drudge, a short-legged or deformed maid of all work. some teutonic varieties of this group of stories will be found mentioned briefly in mr. clodd's article on the 'philosophy of rumpelstiltskin [ ].' thus from the debatable ground on the borders of england and scotland there comes a story in which the fairy woman's name was habetrot; and he alludes to an icelandic version in which the name is gillitrut; but for us still more interest attaches to the name in the following rhyme [ ]:-- little does my lady wot that my name is trit-a-trot. this has been supposed to belong to a story coming from ireland; but whether that may prove true or not, it is hardly to be doubted that our trwtyn tratyn is practically to be identified with trit-a-trot, who is also a he-fairy. that is not all; for since the foregoing notes were penned, a tale has reached me from mr. craigfryn hughes about a fairy who began by conducting himself like the brownies mentioned at pp. , - above. the passages here in point come from the story of which a part was given at pp. - ; and they are to the following effect:--long ago there was in service at a monmouthshire farm a young woman who was merry and strong. who she was or whence she came nobody knew; but many believed that she belonged to the old breed of bendith y mamau. some time after she had come to the farm, the rumour spread that the house was sorely troubled by a spirit. but the girl and the elf understood one another well, and they became the best of friends. so the elf proved very useful to the maid, for he did everything for her--washing, ironing, spinning and twisting wool; in fact they say that he was remarkably handy at the spinning-wheel. moreover, he expected only a bowlful of sweet milk and wheat bread, or some flummery, for his work. so she took care to place the bowl with his food at the bottom of the stairs every night as she went to bed. it ought to have been mentioned that she was never allowed to catch a sight of him; for he always did his work in the dark. nor did anybody know when he ate his food: she used to leave the bowl there at night, and it would be empty by the time when she got up in the morning, the bwca having cleared it. but one night, by way of cursedness, what did she do but fill the bowl with some of the stale urine which they used in dyeing wool and other things about the house. but heavens! it would have been better for her not to have done it; for when she got up next morning what should he do but suddenly spring from some corner and seize her by the neck! he began to beat her and kick her from one end of the house to the other, while he shouted at the top of his voice at every kick:-- y faidan din dwmp-- yn rhoi bara haid a thrwnc i'r bwca! the idea that the thick-buttocked lass should give barley bread and p-- to the bogie! meanwhile she screamed for help, but none came for some time; when, however, he heard the servant men getting up, he took to his heels as hard as he could; and nothing was heard of him for some time. but at the end of two years he was found to be at another farm in the neighbourhood, called hafod yr ynys, where he at once became great friends with the servant girl: for she fed him like a young chicken, by giving him a little bread and milk all the time. so he worked willingly and well for her in return for his favourite food. more especially, he used to spin and wind the yarn for her; but she wished him in time to show his face, or to tell her his name: he would by no means do either. one evening, however, when all the men were out, and when he was spinning hard at the wheel, she deceived him by telling him that she was also going out. he believed her; and when he heard the door shutting, he began to sing as he plied the wheel:-- hi warda'n iawn pe gwypa hi, taw gwarwyn-a-throt yw'm enw i. how she would laugh, did she know that gwarwyn-a-throt is my name! 'ha! ha!' said the maid at the bottom of the stairs; 'i know thy name now.' 'what is it, then?' he asked. she replied, 'gwarwyn-a-throt'; and as soon as she uttered the words he left the wheel where it was, and off he went. he was next heard of at a farmhouse not far off, where there happened to be a servant man named moses, with whom he became great friends at once. he did all his work for moses with great ease. he once, however, gave him a good beating for doubting his word; but the two remained together afterwards for some years on the best possible terms: the end of it was that moses became a soldier. he went away to fight against richard crookback, and fell on the field of bosworth. the bogie, after losing his friend, began to be troublesome and difficult to live with. he would harass the oxen when they ploughed, and draw them after him everywhere, plough and all; nor could any one prevent them. then, when the sun set in the evening he would play his pranks again, and do all sorts of mischief about the house, upstairs, and in the cowhouses. so the farmer was advised to visit a wise man (dyn cynnil), and to see if he could devise some means of getting rid of the bogie. he called on the wise man, who happened to be living near caerleon on the usk; and the wise man, having waited till the moon should be full, came to the farmer's house. in due time the wise man, by force of manoeuvring, secured the bogie by the very long nose which formed the principal ornament of his face, and earned for him the name of bwca'r trwyn, 'the bogie of the nose.' whilst secured by the nose, the bogie had something read to him out of the wise man's big book; and he was condemned by the wise man to be transported to the banks of the red sea for fourteen generations, and to be conveyed thither by 'the upper wind' (yr uwchwynt). no sooner had this been pronounced by the cunning man than there came a whirlwind which made the whole house shake. then came a still mightier wind, and as it began to blow the owner of the big book drew the awl out of the bogie's nose; and it is supposed that the bogie was carried away by that wind, for he never troubled the place any more. another version of the story seems to have been current, which represented the bogie as in no wise to blame [ ]: but i attach some importance to the foregoing tale as forming a link of connexion between the rumpelstiltzchen group of fairies, always trying to get hold of children; the brownie kind, ever willing to serve in return for their simple keep; and the troublesome bogie, that used to haunt welsh farm houses and delight in breaking crockery and frightening the inmates out of their wits. in fact, the brownie and the bogie reduce themselves here into different humours of the same uncanny being. their appearance may be said to have differed also: the bogie had a very long nose, while the brownie of blednoch had only 'a hole where a nose should have been.' but one of the most remarkable points about the brownie species is that the lincolnshire specimen was a small creature, 'a weeny bit of a fellow'--which suggests a possible community of origin with the banshee of the irish, and also of the welsh: witness the wee little woman in the story of the curse of pantannas (pp. - ), who seems to come up out of the river. all alike may perhaps be said to suggest various aspects of the dead ancestor or ancestress; but bwca'r trwyn is not to be severed from the fairy woman in the pennant valley, who undertakes some of the duties, not of a dairymaid, as in other cases mentioned, but those of a nurse. her conduct on being offered a gown is exactly that of the brownie similarly placed: see p. above. but she and bwca'r trwyn are unmistakably fairies who take to domestic service, and work for a time willingly and well in return for their food, which, as in the case of other fairies, appears to have been mostly milk. after this digression i wish only to point out that the welsh bogie's name, gwarwyn-a-throt, treated as welsh, could only mean white-necked and (or with) a trot; for a throt could only mean 'and (or with) a trot.' so it is clear that a throt is simply the equivalent of a-trot, borrowed from such an english combination as trit-a-trot, and that it is idle to translate gwarwyn-a-throt. now trot and twt are not native welsh words; and the same remark applies to trwtyn tratyn, and of course to sìli ffrit and sìli go dwt. hence it is natural to infer that either these names have in the welsh stories merely superseded older ones of welsh origin, or else that there was no question of name in the welsh stories till they had come under english influence. the former conjecture seems the more probable of the two, unless one should rather suppose the whole story borrowed from english sources. but it is of no consequence here as regards the reluctance of fairies to disclose their names; for we have other instances to which the reader may turn, on pp. , - , above. one of them, in particular, is in point here: see pp. , . it attaches itself to the pool of corwrion in the neighbourhood of bangor; and it relates how a man married a fairy on the express condition that he was neither to know her name nor to touch her with iron, on pain of her instantly leaving him. of course in the lapse of years the conditions are accidentally violated by the luckless husband, and the wife flies instantly away into the waters of the pool: her name turned out to be belene. thus far of the unwillingness of the fairies to tell their names: i must now come to the question, why that was so. here the anthropologist or the student of comparative folklore comes to our aid; for it is an important part of his business to compare the superstitions of one people with those of another; and in the case of superstitions which have lost their meaning among us, for instance, he searches for a parallel among other nations, where that parallel forms part of living institutions. in this way he hopes to discover the key to his difficulties. in the present case he finds savages who habitually look at the name as part and parcel of the person [ ]. these savages further believe that any part of the person, such as a hair off one's head or the parings of one's nails, if they chanced to be found by an enemy, would give that enemy magical power over their lives, and enable him to injure them. hence the savage tendency to conceal one's name. i have here, as the reader will perceive, crowded together several important steps in the savage logic; so i must try to illustrate them, somewhat more in detail, by reference to some of the survivals of them after the savage has long been civilized. to return to wales, and to illustrate the belief that possession of a part of one's person, or of anything closely identified with one's person, gives the possessor of it power over that person, i need only recall the welsh notion, that if one wished to sell one's self to the devil one had merely to give him a hair of one's head or the tiniest drop of one's blood, then one would be for ever his for a temporary consideration. again, if you only had your hair cut, it must be carefully gathered and hidden away: by no means must it be burnt, as that might prove prejudicial to your health. similarly, you should never throw feathers into the fire; for that was once held, as i infer, to bring about death among one's poultry: and an old relative of mine, modryb mari, 'aunt mary,' set her face against my taste for toasted cheese. she used to tell me that if i toasted my cheese, my sheep would waste away and die: strictly speaking, i fancy this originally meant only the sheep from whose milk the cheese had been made. but i was not well versed enough in the doctrines of sympathetic magic to reply, that it did not apply to our cheese, which was not made from sheep's milk. so her warning used to frighten me and check my fondness for toasted cheese, a fondness which i had doubtless quite innocently inherited, as anybody will see who will glance at one of the hundred mery talys, printed by john rastell in the sixteenth century, as follows:--'i fynde wrytten amonge olde gestes, howe god mayde saynt peter porter of heuen, and that god of hys goodnes, sone after his passyon, suffered many men to come to the kyngdome of heuen with small deseruynge; at whyche tyme there was in heuen a great companye of welchemen, whyche with their crakynge and babelynge troubled all the other. wherfore god sayde to saynte peter that he was wery of them, and that he wolde fayne haue them out of heuen. to whome saynte peter sayd: good lorde, i warrente you, that shall be done. wherfore saynt peter wente out of heuen gates and cryed wyth a loud voyce cause bobe [ ], that is as moche to saye as rosted chese, whiche thynge the welchemen herynge, ranne out of heuen a great pace. and when saynt peter sawe them all out, he sodenly wente into heuen, and locked the dore, and so sparred all the welchemen out. by this ye may se, that it is no wysdome for a man to loue or to set his mynde to moche upon any delycate or worldely pleasure, wherby he shall lose the celestyall and eternall ioye.' to leave the mery talys and come back to the instances mentioned, all of them may be said to illustrate the way in which a part, or an adjunct, answered for the whole of a person or thing. in fact, having due regard to magic as an exact science, an exceedingly exact science, one may say that according to the wisdom of our ancestors the leading axiom of that science practically amounted to this: the part is quite equal to the whole. now the name, as a part of the man, was once probably identified with the breath of life or with the soul, as we shall see later; and the latter must have been regarded as a kind of matter; for i well remember that when a person was dying in a house, it was the custom about ponterwyd, in north cardiganshire, to open the windows. and a farmer near ystrad meurig, more towards the south of the county, told me some years ago that he remembered his mother dying when he was a boy: a neighbour's wife who had been acting as nurse tried to open the window of the room, and as it would not open she deliberately smashed a pane of it. this was doubtless originally meant to facilitate the escape of the soul; and the same idea has been attested for gloucestershire, devon, and other parts of the country [ ]. this way of looking at the soul reminds one of professor tylor's words when he wrote in his work on primitive culture, i. : 'and he who says that his spirit goes forth to meet a friend, can still realize in the phrase a meaning deeper than metaphor.' then if the soul was material, you may ask what its shape was; and even this i have a story which will answer: it comes from the same modryb mari who set her face against caws pobi, and cherished a good many superstitions. therein she differed greatly from her sister, my mother, who had a far more logical mind and a clearer conception of things. well, my aunt's story was to the following effect:--a party of reapers on a farm not far from ponterwyd--i have forgotten the name--sat down in the field to their midday meal. afterwards they rested awhile, when one of their number fell fast asleep. the others got up and began reaping again, glancing every now and then at the sleeping man, who had his mouth wide open and breathed very loudly. presently they saw a little black man, or something like a monkey, coming out of his mouth and starting on a walk round the field: they watched this little fellow walking on and on till he came to a spot near a stream. there he stopped and turned back: then he disappeared into the open mouth of the sleeper, who at once woke up. he told his comrades that he had just been dreaming of his walking round the field as far as the very spot where they had seen the little black fellow stop. i am sorry to say that modryb mari had wholly forgotten this story when, years afterwards, i asked her to repeat it to me; but the other day i found a welshman who still remembers it. i happened to complain, at a meeting of kindred spirits, how i had neglected making careful notes of bits of folklore which i had heard years ago from informants whom i had since been unable to cross-examine: i instanced the story of the sleeping reaper, when my friend professor sayce at once said that he had heard it. he spent part of his childhood near llanover in monmouthshire; and in those days he spoke welsh, which he learned from his nurse. he added that he well remembered the late lady llanover rebuking his father for having his child, a welsh boy, dressed like a little highlander; and he remembered also hearing the story here in question told him by his nurse. so far as he could recall it, the version was the same as my aunt's, except that he does not recollect hearing anything about the stream of water. several points in the story call for notice: among others, one naturally asks at the outset why the other reapers did not wake the sleeping man. the answer is that the welsh seem to have agreed with other peoples, such as the irish [ ], in thinking it dangerous to wake a man when dreaming, that is, when his soul might be wandering outside his body; for it might result in the soul failing to find the way back into the body which it had temporarily left. to illustrate this from wales i produce the following story, which has been written out for me by mr. j. g. evans. the scene of it was a field on the farm of cadabowen, near llan y bydair, in the vale of the teifi:--'the chief point of the madfall incident, which happened in the early sixties, was this. during one mid-morning hoe hogi, that is to say, the usual rest for sharpening the reaping-hooks, i was playing among the thirty or forty reapers sitting together: my movements were probably a disturbing element to the reapers, as well as a source of danger to my own limbs. in order, therefore, to quiet me, as seems probable, one of the men directed my attention to our old farm labourer, who was asleep on his back close to the uncut corn, a little apart from the others. i was told that his soul (ened) had gone out of his mouth in the form of a black lizard (madfall du), and was at that moment wandering among the standing corn. if i woke the sleeper, the soul would be unable to return; and old thomas would die, or go crazy; or something serious would happen. i will not trust my memory to fill in details, especially as this incident once formed the basis of what proved an exciting story told to my children in their childhood. a generation hence they may be able to give an astonishing instance of "genuine" welsh folklore. in the meanwhile, i can bear testimony to that "black lizard" being about the most living impression in my "memory." i see it, even now, wriggling at the edge of the uncut corn. but as to its return, and the waking of the sleeper, my memory is a blank. such are the tricks of "memory"; and we should be charitable when, with bated breath, the educated no less than the uneducated tell us about the uncanny things they have "seen with their own eyes." they believe what they say, because they trust their memory: i do not. i feel practically certain i never saw a lizard in my life, in that particular field in which the reapers were.' mr. evans' story differs, as it has been seen, from my aunt's version in giving the soul the shape of a lizard; but the little black fellow in the one and the black lizard in the other agree not only in representing the soul as material, but also as forming a complete organism within a larger one. in a word, both pictures must be regarded as the outcome of attempts to depict the sleeper's inner man. if names and souls could be regarded as material substances, so could diseases; and i wish to say a word or two now on that subject, which a short story of my wife's will serve to introduce. she is a native of the llanberis side of snowdon; and she remembers going one morning, when a small child, across to the neighbourhood of rhyd-du with a servant girl called cadi, whose parents lived there. now cadi was a very good servant, but she had little regard for the more civilized manners of the llanberis folk; and when she returned with the child in the evening from her mother's cottage, she admitted that the little girl was amazed at the language of cadi's brothers and sisters; for she confessed that, as she said, they swore like colliers, whereas the little girl had never before heard any swearing worth speaking of. well, among other things which the little girl saw there was one of cadi's sisters having a bad leg dressed: when the rag which had been on the wound was removed, the mother made one of her other children take it out and fix it on the thorn growing near the door. the little girl being inquisitive asked why that was done, and she was told that it was in order that the wound might heal all the faster. she was not very satisfied with the answer, but she afterwards noticed the same sort of thing done in her own neighbourhood. now the original idea was doubtless that the disease, or at any rate a part of it--and in such matters it will be remembered that a part is quite equal to the whole--was attached to the rag; so that putting the rag out, with a part of the disease attached to it, to rot on the bush, would bring with it the disappearance of the whole disease. another and a wider aspect of this practice was the subject of notice in the chapter on the folklore of the wells, pp. - , where mr. hartland's hypothesis was mentioned. this was to the effect that if any clothing, or anything else which had been identified with your person, were to be placed in contact with a sacred tree, sacred well, or sacred edifice, it would be involved in the effluence of the divinity that imparts its sacred character to the tree, well, or temple; and that your person, identified with the clothing or other article, would also be involved or soaked in the same divine effluence, and made to benefit thereby. we have since had this kind of reasoning illustrated, pp. - above, by the modern legend of crymlyn, and the old one of llyn lliwan; but the difficulty which it involves is a very considerable one: it is the difficulty of taking seriously the infantile order of reasoning which underlies so much of the philosophy of folklore. i cannot readily forget one of the first occasions of my coming, so to say, into living contact with it. it was at tuam in connaught, whither i had gone to learn modern irish from the late canon ulick j. bourke. there one day in he presented me with a copy of the bull 'ineffabilis' in four languages (dublin, ), containing the irish version which he had himself contributed. on the blue cover was a gilt picture of the virgin, inscribed sine labe concepta. no sooner had i brought it to my lodgings than the woman who looked after the house caught sight of it. she was at once struck with awe and admiration; so i tried to explain to her the nature of the contents of the volume. 'so the father has given you that holy book!' she exclaimed; 'and you are now a holy man!' i was astonished at the simple and easy way in which she believed holiness could be transferred from one person or thing to another; and it has always helped me to realize the fact that folklorists have no occasion to invent their people, or to exaggerate the childish features of their minds. they are still with us as real men and real women, and at one time the whole world belonged to them; not to mention that those who may, by a straining of courtesy, be called their leaders of thought, hope speedily to reannex the daring few who are trying to tear asunder the bonds forged for mankind in the obscurity of a distant past. i shall never forget the impression made on my mind by a sermon i heard preached some years later in the cathedral of st. stephen in vienna. that magnificent edifice in a great centre of german culture was crowded with listeners, who seemed thoroughly to enjoy what they heard, though the chief idea which they were asked to entertain could not possibly be said to rise above the level of the philosophy of the stone age. chapter xi folklore philosophy to look for consistency in barbaric philosophy is to disqualify ourselves for understanding it, and the theories of it which aim at symmetry are their own condemnation. yet that philosophy, within its own irregular confines, works not illogically.--edward clodd. it will be remembered that in the last chapter a story was given, p. , which represented the soul as a little fellow somewhat resembling a monkey; and it will probably have struck the reader how near this approaches the idea prevalent in medieval theology and christian art, which pictured the soul as a pigmy or diminutive human being. i revert to this in order to point out that the christian fancy may possibly have given rise to the form of the soul as represented in the welsh story which i heard in cardiganshire and professor sayce in monmouthshire; but this could hardly be regarded as touching the other cardiganshire story, in which the soul is likened to a madfall or lizard. moreover i would point out that a belief incompatible with both kinds of story is suggested by one of the uses of the welsh word for soul, namely, enaid. i heard my father, a native of the neighbourhood of eglwys fach, near the estuary of the dyfi, use the word of some portion of the inside of a goose, but i have forgotten what part it was exactly. professor anwyl of aberystwyth, however, has sent me the following communication on the subject:--'i am quite familiar with the expression yr enaid, "the soul," as applied to the soft flesh sticking to the ribs inside a goose. the flesh in question has somewhat the same appearance and structure as the liver. i have no recollection of ever hearing the term yr enaid used in the case of any bird other than a goose; but this may be a mere accident, inasmuch as no one ever uses the term now except to mention it as an interesting curiosity.' this application of the word enaid recalls the use of the english word 'soul' in the same way, and points to a very crude idea of the soul as material and only forming an internal portion of the body: it is on the low level of the notion of an english pagan of the seventeenth century who thought his soul was 'a great bone in his body [ ].' it is, however, not quite so foolish, perhaps, as it looks at first sight; and it reminds one of the mohammedan belief that the os coccygis is the first formed in the human body, and that it will remain uncorrupted till the last day as a seed from which the whole is to be renewed in the resurrection [ ]. on either savage theory, that the soul is a material organism inside a bulkier organism, or the still lower one that it is an internal portion of the larger organism itself, the idea of death would be naturally much the same, namely, that it was what occurred when the body and the soul became permanently severed. i call attention to this because we have traces in welsh literature of a very different notion of death, which must now be briefly explained. the mabinogi of math ab mathonwy relates how math and gwydion made out of various flowers a most beautiful woman whom they named blodeuwed [ ], that is to say anthôdês, or flowerlike, and gave to wife to llew llawgyffes; how she, as it were to prove what consummate artists they had been, behaved forthwith like a woman of the ordinary origin, in that she fell in love with another man named gronw pebyr of penllyn; and how she plotted with gronw as to the easiest way to put her husband to death. pretending to be greatly concerned about the welfare of llew and very anxious to take measures against his death (angheu), she succeeded in finding from him in what manner one could kill (llad) him. his reply was, 'unless god kill me ... it is not easy to kill me'; and he went on to describe the strange attitude in which he might be killed, namely, in a certain position when dressing after a bath: then, he said, if one cast a spear at him it would effect his death (angheu), but that spear must have been a whole year in the making, during the hour only when the sacrifice was proceeding on sunday. blodeuwed thanked heaven, she said, to find that all this was easy to avoid. but still her curiosity was not satisfied; so one day she induced llew to go into the bath and show exactly what he meant. of course she had gronw with his enchanted spear in readiness, and at the proper moment, when llew was dressing after the bath, the paramour cast his spear at him. he hit him in the side, so that the head of the spear remained in llew, whilst the shaft fell off: llew flew away in the form of an eagle, uttering an unearthly cry. he was no more seen until gwydion, searching for him far and wide in powys and gwyned, came to arfon, where one day he followed the lead of a mysterious sow, until the beast stopped under an oak at nantlle. there gwydion found the sow devouring rotten flesh and maggots, which fell from an eagle whenever the bird shook himself at the top of the tree. he suspected this was llew, and on singing three englyns to him the eagle came lower and lower, till at last he descended on gwydion's lap. then gwydion struck him with his wand, so that he assumed his own shape of llew llawgyffes, and nobody ever saw a more wretched looking man, we are told: he was nothing but skin and bones. but the best medical aid that could be found in gwyned was procured, and before the end of the year he was quite well again. here it will be noticed, that though the fatal wounding of llew, at any rate visibly, means his being changed into the form of an eagle, it is treated as his death. when the mabinogion were edited in their present form in a later atmosphere, this sort of phraseology was not natural to the editor, and he shows it when he comes to relate how gwydion punished blodeuwed, as follows:--gwydion, having overtaken her in her flight, is made to say, 'i shall not kill thee (ny ladaf i di): i shall do what is worse for thee, and that is to let thee go in the form of a bird.' he let her go in fact in the form of an owl. according to the analogy of the other part of the story this meant his having killed her: it was her death, and the words 'i shall not kill thee' are presumably not to be regarded as belonging to the original story. to come back to the eagle, later welsh literature, re-echoing probably an ancient notion, speaks of a nephew of arthur, called eliwlod, appearing to arthur as an eagle seated likewise among the branches of an oak. he claims acquaintance and kinship with arthur, but he has to explain to him that he has died: they have a dialogue [ ] in the course of which the eagle gives arthur some serious christian advice. but we have in this sort of idea doubtless the kind of origin to which one might expect to trace the prophesying eagle, such as geoffrey mentions more than once: see his historia, ii. and xii. [ ]. add to these instances of transformation the belief prevalent in cornwall almost to our own day, that arthur himself, instead of dying, was merely changed by magic into a raven, a form in which he still goes about; so that a cornishman will not wittingly fire at a raven [ ]. this sort of transformation is not to be severed from instances supplied by irish literature, such as the story of tuan mac cairill, related in the book of the dun cow, fo. a- b. tuan relates to st. finnen of magbile, in the sixth century, the early history of ireland from the time of partholan down, which he was enabled to do because he had lived through it all, passing from one form to another without losing his memory. first of all he was a man, and when old age had come upon him he was transformed into a stag of the forest. for a while he was youthful and vigorous; but again old age overtook him, and he next became a wild boar. when old age and decrepitude overcame him next he was renewed in the form of a powerful bird, called in the original seig. the next renewal was in the form of a salmon: here the manuscript fails us. the form of a salmon was also the one taken by the woman liban when she was overwhelmed by the flood, which became the body of water known as lough neagh: her handmaid at the same time became an otter (fo. b). there was an ancient belief that the soul leaves the body like a bird flying out of the mouth of the man or woman dying, and this maybe said to approach the favourite celtic notion illustrated by the transformations here instanced, to which may be added the case of the children of lir, pp. , , changed by the stroke of their wicked stepmother's wand into swans, on lough erne. the story has, in the course of ages, modified itself into a belief that the swans haunting that beautiful water at all seasons of the year, are the souls of holy women who fell victims to the repeated visitations of the pagan norsemen, when ireland was at their cruel mercy [ ]. the christian form which the irish peasant has given the legend does not touch its relevancy here. perhaps one might venture to generalize, that in these islands great men and women were believed to continue their existence in the form of eagles, hawks or ravens, swans or owls. but what became of the souls of the obscurer majority of the people? for an answer to this perhaps we can only fall back on the psyche butterfly, which may here be illustrated by the fact that cornish tradition applies the term 'pisky' both to the fairies and to moths, believed in cornwall by many to be departed souls [ ]. so in ireland: a certain reverend gentleman named joseph ferguson, writing in a statistical account of the parish of ballymoyer, in the county of armagh, states that one day a girl chasing a butterfly was chid by her companions, who said to her: 'that may be the soul of your grandmother [ ].' this idea, to survive, has modified itself into a belief less objectionably pagan, that a butterfly hovering near a corpse is a sign of its everlasting happiness. the shape-shifting is sometimes complicated by taking place on the lines of rebirth: as cases in point may be mentioned lug, reborn as cúchulainn [ ], and the repeated births of Étáin. this was rendered possible in the case of cúchulainn, for instance, by lug taking the form of an insect which was unwittingly swallowed by dechtere, who thereby became cúchulainn's mother; and so in the case of Étáin [ ] and her last recorded mother, the queen of etar king of eochraidhe. on welsh ground we have a combination of transformations and rebirth in the history of gwion bach in the story of taliessin. gwion was in the service of the witch ceridwen; but having learned too much of her arts, he became the object of her lasting hatred; and the incident is translated as follows in lady charlotte guest's mabinogion, iii. - :--'and she went forth after him, running. and he saw her, and changed himself into a hare and fled. but she changed herself into a greyhound and turned him. and he ran towards a river, and became a fish. and she in the form of an otter-bitch chased him under the water, until he was fain to turn himself into a bird of the air. then 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 amongst the wheat, and turned 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 out and swallowed him. and, as the story says, she bore him nine months, and when she was delivered of him, she could not find it in her heart to kill him, by reason of his beauty. so she wrapped him in a leathern bag, and cast him into the sea to the mercy of god on the twenty-ninth day of april. and at that time the weir of gwydno was on the strand between dyvi and aberystwyth, near to his own castle, and the value of an hundred pounds was taken in that weir every may eve.' the story goes on to relate how gwydno's son, elphin, found in the weir the leathern bag containing the baby, who grew up to be the bard taliessin. but the fourteenth century manuscript called after the name of taliessin teems with such transformations as the above, except that they are by no means confined to the range of the animal and vegetable kingdoms. i heard an amusing suggestion of metempsychosis the other day: it is related of a learned german, who was sitting at table, let us say, in an oxford hotel, with most of his dinner in front of him. being, however, a man of immediate foresight, and anxious to accustom himself to fine english, he was not to be restrained by scruples as to any possible discrepancy between words like bekommen and become. so to the astonishment of everybody he gravely called out to the waiter, 'hereafter i vish to become a velsh rabbit.' this would have done admirably for the author of certain poems in the book of taliessin, where the bard's changes are dwelt upon. from them it appears that the transformation might be into anything that the mind of man could in any way individualize. thus taliessin claims to have been, some time or other, not only a stag or a salmon, but also an axe, a sword, and even a book in a priest's hand, or a word in writing. on the whole, however, his history as a grain of corn has most interest here, as it differs from that which has just been given: the passage [ ] is sadly obscure, but i understand it to say that the grain was duly sown on a hill, that it was reaped and finally brought on the hearth, where the ears of corn were emptied of their grains by the ancient method of dexterously applying a flame to them [ ]. but while the light was being applied the grain which was taliessin, falling from the operator's hand, was quickly received and swallowed by a hostile hen, in whose interior it remained nine nights; but though this seemingly makes taliessin's mother a bird, he speaks of himself, without mentioning any intervening transformation, as a gwas or young man. such an origin was perhaps never meant to be other than incomprehensible. lastly as to rebirth, i may say that it has often struck me that the welsh habit, especially common in carnarvonshire and anglesey, of one child in a family being named, partially or wholly, after a grandparent, is to be regarded as a trace of the survival from early times of a belief in such atavism as has been suggested above [ ]. the belief in transformations or transmigrations, such as have been mentioned, must have lent itself to various developments, and two at least of them are deserving of some notice here. first may be mentioned one which connects itself intimately with the druid or magician: he is master of his own transformations, as in the case of ceridwen and gwion, for he had acquired his magic by tasting of the contents of ceridwen's cauldron of sciences, and he retained his memory continuously through his shape-shiftings, as is best illustrated, perhaps, by the case of tuan mac cairill. the next step was for him to realize his changes, not as matters of the past but as present and possible; in fact, to lay claim to being anybody or anything he likes at any moment. of this we have a remarkable instance in the case of amairgen, seer and judge of the milesians or sons of míl, in the story of their conquest of ireland, as told in the book of leinster, fo. b. as he first sets his right foot on the land of erin he sings a lay in which he says, that he is a boar, a bull, and a salmon, together with other things also, such as the sea-breeze, the rolling wave, the roar of the billows, and a lake on the plain. nor does he forget to pretend to wisdom and science beyond other men, and to hint that he is the divinity that gives them knowledge and sense. the similarity between this passage and others in the book of taliessin has attracted the attention of scholars: see m. d'arbois de jubainville's cycle mythologique irlandais, pp. et seq. on the whole, taliessin revels most in the side of the picture devoted to his knowledge and science: he has passed through so many scenes and changes that he has been an eye-witness to all kinds of events in celtic story. thus he was with brân on his expedition to ireland, and saw when mordwyt tyllion was slain in the great slaughter of the meal-bag pavilion. this, however, was not all; he represents himself as also a sywedyd [ ], 'vates or prophet, astrologer and astronomer,' a sage who boasts his knowledge of the physical world and propounds questions which he challenges his rivals to answer concerning earth and sea, day and night, sun and moon. he is not only taliessin, but also gwion, and hence one infers his magical powers to have been derived. if he regards anybody as his equal or superior, that seems to have been talhaiarn, to whom he ascribes the greatest science. talhaiarn is usually thought of only as a great bard by welsh writers, but it is his science and wisdom that taliessin admires [ ], whereby one is to understand, doubtless, that talhaiarn, like taliessin, was a great magician. to this day welsh bards and bardism have not been quite dissociated from magic, in so far as the witch ceridwen is regarded as their patroness. the boasts of amairgen are characterized by m. d'arbois de jubainville as a sort of pantheism, and he detects traces of the same doctrine, among other places, in the teaching of the irishman, known as scotus erigena, at the court of charles the bald in the ninth century: see the cycle mythologique, p. . in any case, one is prepared by such utterances as those of amairgen to understand the charge recorded in the senchus mór, i. , as made against the irish druids or magicians of his time by a certain connla cainbhrethach, one of the remarkable judges of erin, conjectured by o'curry--on what grounds i do not know--to have lived in the first century of our era. the statement there made is to the following effect:--'after her came connla cainbhrethach, chief doctor of connaught; he excelled the men of erin in wisdom, for he was filled with the grace of the holy ghost; he used to contend with the druids, who said that it was they that made heaven and earth, and the sea, &c., and the sun and moon, &c.' this view of the pretensions of the druids is corroborated by the fact that magic, especially the power of shape-shifting at will, was regarded as power par excellence [ ], and by the old formula of wishing one well, which ran thus: bendacht dee ocus andee fort, 'the blessing of gods and not-gods upon thee!' the term 'gods' in this context is explained to have meant persons of power [ ], and the term 'not-gods' farmers or those connected with the land, probably all those whose lives were directly dependent on farming and the cultivation of the soil, as distinguished from professional men such as druids and smiths. this may be further illustrated by a passage from the account of the second battle of moytura, published by stokes with a translation, in the revue celtique, xii. - . see more especially pp. - , where we find lug offering his services to the king, nuada of the silver hand. among other qualifications which lug possessed, he named that of being a sorcerer, to which the porter at once replied: 'we need thee not; we have sorcerers already. many are our wizards and our folk of might'--that is, those of our people who possess power--ar lucht cumachtai. wizards (druith) and lucht cumachtai came, it is observed, alike under the more general designation of sorcerers (corrguinigh). one seems to come upon traces of the same classification of a community into professionals and non-professionals, for that is what it comes to, in an obscure welsh term, teulu oeth ac anoeth, which may be conjectured to have meant 'the household of oeth and anoeth' in the sense of power and not-power [ ]. however that may be, the professional class of men who were treated as persons of power and gods seem to have attained to their position by virtue of the magic of which they claimed to be masters, and especially of their supposed faculty of shape-shifting at will. in other words, the druidic pantheism [ ] which erigena was able to dress in the garb of a fairly respectable philosophy proves to have been, in point of genesis, but a few removes from a primitive kind of savage folklore. none of these stories of shape-shifting, and of being born again, make any allusion to a soul. to revert, for instance, to llew llawgyffes, it is evident that the eagle cannot be regarded as his soul. the decayed state of the eagle's body seems to imply that it was somehow the same body as that of llew at the time when he was wounded by gronw's poisoned spear: the festering of the eagle's flesh looks as if considered a continuation of the wound. it is above all things, however, to be noted that none of the stories in point, whether irish or welsh, contain any suggestion of the hero's life coming to an end, or in any way perishing; llew lives on to be transformed, under the stroke of gwydion's wand, from being an eagle to be a man again; and tuan mac cairill persists in various forms till he meets st. finnen in the sixth century. then in the case of Étáin, we are told in the book of the dun cow, fo. a, that her first-mentioned birth and the next one were separated by more than a thousand years. so practically we may say that these stories implied that men and women were imperishable, that they had no end necessarily to their existence. this sort of notion may be detected in llew's words when he says, 'unless god kill me ... it is not easy to kill me.' the reference to the almighty may probably be regarded as a comparatively late interpolation due to christian teaching. a similar instance seems to occur in a poem in the black book of carmarthen, fos. b- b, where arthur loudly sings the praises of his friend cai. the couplet in point runs thus:-- ny bei duv ae digonhei. oet diheit aghev kei. unless it were god that wrought it, hard to effect were the death of cai. i am not sure, however, of the meaning; for, among other things, diheit, which i am inclined to interpret as 'hard to reach' or 'not easy to effect,' has been rendered otherwise by others [ ]. in any case, the other instance seems to imply that at one time the heroes of llew's world were not necessarily expected to die at all; and when they happened to do so, it was probably regarded, as among savages at the present day, as a result brought about by magic. any reader who may feel astonished at such a crudeness of belief, will find something to contrast and compare in the familiar doctrine, that but for the fall of adam and eve we should have never heard of death, whether of man or of beast. but if he proceeds to ask questions about the economy of our world in case nobody died, he must be satisfied to be told that to ask any such question is here not only useless but also irrelevant. now, suppose that in a society permeated by the crude kind of notions of which one finds traces in the mabinogion and other old welsh literature, a man arose who had a turn for philosophizing and trying to think things out: how would he reason? it seems probable that he would argue, that underneath all the change there must be some substratum which is permanent. if tuan, he would say, changed from one form to another and remembered all that he had gone through, there must have been something which lasted, otherwise tuan would have come to an end early in the story, and the later individual would not be tuan at all. probably one thing which, according to our folklore philosopher's way of thinking, lasted through the transformations, was the material of tuan's body, just as one is induced to suppose that llew's body, and that of the eagle into which he was transformed, were considered to be one and the same body labouring under the mortifying influence of the wound inflicted on llew by gronw's enchanted spear. further, we have already found reasons to regard the existence of the soul as forming a part of the creed of some at any rate of the early inhabitants of this country, though we have no means of gathering what precise attributes our philosopher might ascribe to it besides the single one, perhaps, of continuing to exist. in that case he might otherwise describe tuan's shape-shifting as the entrance of tuan's soul into a series of different bodies. now the philosopher here sketched agrees pretty closely with the little that is known of the gaulish druid, such as he is described by ancient authors [ ]. the latter seem to have been agreed in regarding him as believing in the immortality of the soul, and several of them appear to have thought his views similar to those of pythagoras and his school. so we may perhaps venture to suppose that the druids, like pythagoras, believed in the transmigration of souls, including that from the human to an animal form and the reverse. if, in the absence of an explicit statement, one may ascribe this latter form of that belief to the druids, the identity of their creed becomes almost complete with that of our conjectured folklore philosopher. at one time i was inclined to fancy that the druids of gaul had received no unimportant part of their teaching from greek philosophy by way of massilia, but i am now more disposed to believe their doctrines to have been gradually developed, in the way above suggested, from the unfailing resources of that folklore which revelled in scenes of shape-shifting and rebirth. possibly the doctrines of pythagoras may have themselves had a like origin and a somewhat parallel development, or let us say rather that the orphic notions had, which preceded pythagoreanism. but as to gaul generally, it is not to be assumed that the gaulish druids and all the other gauls held the same opinion on these questions: we have some evidence that they did not. thus the gauls in the neighbourhood of massilia [ ], who would accept a creditor's promise to pay up in the next world, can hardly have contemplated the possibility of any such creditor being then a bird or a moth. should it be objected that the transformations, instanced above as brythonic and goidelic, were assumed only in the case of magicians and other professional or privileged persons, and that we are not told what was held to happen in the case of the rank and file of humanity, it is enough to answer that neither do we know what the druids of gaul held to be the fate of the common people of their communities. no lever can be applied in that direction to disturb the lines of the parallel. in previous chapters, pp. , , , , , , instances from welsh sources have been given of the fairies concealing their names. but wales is not the only celtic land where we find traces of this treatment of one's name: it is to be detected also on irish ground. thus, when a herald from an enemy's camp comes to parley with cúchulainn and his charioteer, the latter, being first approached, describes himself as the 'man of the man down there,' meaning cúchulainn, to whom he pointed; and when the herald comes to cúchulainn himself, he asks him whose man he is: cúchulainn describes himself as the 'man of conchobar mac nessa.' the herald then inquires if he has no more definite designation, and cúchulainn replies that what he has given will suffice [ ]: neither of the men gives his name. thus celts of both groups, brythons and goidels, are at one in yielding evidence to the same sort of cryptic treatment of personal names, at some stage or other in their past history. the student of man tells us, as already pointed out, that the reason for the reluctance to disclose one's name was of the same nature as that which makes savages, and some men belonging to nations above the savage state feel anxious that an enemy should not get possession of anything identified with their persons, such as a lock of one's hair, a drop of one's blood, or anything closely connected with one's person, lest it should give the enemy power over one's person as a whole, especially if such enemy is suspected of possessing any skill in handling the terrors of magic. in other words, the anthropologist would say that the name was regarded as identified with the person; and, having said this, he has mostly felt satisfied that he has definitively disposed of the matter. therein, however, he is possibly wrong; for when he says that the name was probably treated as a part of the man, that only leads one to ask the question, what part of the man? at any rate, i can see nothing very unreasonable in such a question, though i am quite willing to word it differently, and to ask: is there any evidence to show with what part of a man his name was associated? as regards the aryan nations, we seem to have a clue to an answer in the interesting group of aryan words in point, from which i select the following:--irish ainm, 'a name,' plural anmann; old welsh anu, now enw, also 'a name'; old bulgarian imen (for *ienmen, *anman); old prussian emnes, emmens, accusative emnan; and armenian anwan (for a stem *anman)--all meaning a name. to these some scholars [ ] would add, and it may be rightly, the english word name itself, the latin nomen, the sanskrit naman, and the greek ynoma; but, as some others find a difficulty in thus grouping these words, i abstain from laying any stress on them. in fact, i have every reason to be satisfied with the wide extent of the aryan world covered by the other instances enumerated as celtic, prussian, bulgarian, and armenian. now, such is the similarity between welsh enw, 'name,' and enaid, 'soul,' that i cannot help referring the two words to one and the same origin, especially when i see the same or rather greater similarity illustrated by the irish words, ainm, 'name,' and anim, 'soul.' this similarity between the irish words so pervades the declension of them, that a beginner frequently falls into the error of confounding them in medieval texts. take, for instance, the genitive singular, anma, which may mean either animæ or nominis; the nominative plural, anmand, which may be either animæ or nomina; and the gen. anmand, either animarum or nominum, as the dative anmannaib may likewise be either animabus or nominibus. in fact, one is at first sight almost tempted to suppose that the partial differentiation of the irish forms was only brought about under the influence of latin, with its distinct forms of anima and nomen. that would be pressing the point too far; but the direct teaching of the celtic vocables is that they are all to be referred to the same origin in the aryan word for 'breath or breathing,' which is represented by such words as latin anima, welsh anadl, 'breath,' and a gothic anan, 'blow or breathe,' whence the compound preterite uz-on, twice used by ulfilas in the fifteenth chapter of st. mark's gospel to render exepneuse, 'gave up the ghost.' now the lessons which the words here grouped together contain for the student of man is, that the celts, and certain other widely separated aryans, unless we should rather say the whole of the aryan family, were once in the habit of closely associating both the soul and one's name with the breath of life. the evidence is satisfactory so far as it goes; but let us go a little more into detail, and see as exactly as we can to what it commits us. commencing at the beginning, we may set out with the axiom that breathing is a physical action, and that in the temperate zone one's breath is not unfrequently visible. then one may say that the men who made the words--welsh, enaid (for an earlier anatio-s), 'soul'; irish, anim (from an earlier stem, animon); latin, anima, also animus, 'feeling, mind, soul'; and greek, anemos, 'air, wind'--must have in some way likened the soul to one's breath, which perhaps first suggested the idea. at all events they showed not only that they did not contemplate the soul as a bone, or any solid portion of a man's frame, or even as a manikin residing inside it: in fact they had made a great advance in the direction of the abstract notion of a spirit, in which some of them may have been helped by another association of ideas, namely, that indicated by speaking of the dead as shades or shadows, umbræ, skiai. similarly, the words in point for 'name' seem to prove that some of the ancient aryans must have, in some way, associated one's name with the breath of life. on the other hand, we find nothing to show that the name and the soul were directly compared or associated with one another, while the association of the name with the breath represents, probably, a process as much earlier as it is cruder, than likening the soul to the breath and naming it accordingly. this is countenanced to some extent by the general physiognomy, so to say, of words like enaid, anima, as contrasted with enw, ainm, nomen, name. speaking relatively, the former might be of almost any date in point of comparative lateness, while the latter could not, belonging as they do to a small declension which was not wont to receive accessions to its numbers. in what way, then, or in what respect did early folklore identify the name with the breath? before one could expect to answer this question in anything like a convincing fashion, one would have to examine the collector of the folklore of savages, or rather to induce him to cross-examine them on the point. for instance, among the singhalese [ ], when in the ceremony of name-giving the father utters the baby's name in a low whisper in the baby's ear, is that called breathing the name? and is the name so whispered called a breath or a breathing? in the case of the savages who name their children at their birth, is the reason ever advanced that a name must be given to the child in order to make it breathe, or, at least, in order to facilitate its breathing? some such a notion of reinforcing the child's vitality and safety would harmonize well enough with the fact that, as mr. clodd [ ] puts it, 'barbaric, pagan, and christian folklore is full of examples of the importance of naming and other birth-ceremonies, in the belief that the child's life is at the mercy of evil spirits watching the chance of casting spells upon it, of demons covetous to possess it, and of fairies eager to steal it and leave a "changeling" in its place.' provisionally, one must perhaps rest content to suppose the association of the name to have taken place with the breath regarded as an accompaniment of life. looked at in that sense, the name becomes associated with one's life, and, speaking roughly, with one's person; and it is interesting to notice that one seems to detect traces in welsh literature of some confusion of the kind. thus, when the hero of the story of kulhwch and olwen was christened he was named kulhwch, which is expressed in welsh as 'forcing or driving kulhwch on him' (gyrru kulh ch arna [ ]); kulh ch, be it noticed, not the name kulhwch. similarly when brân, on the eve of his expedition to ireland, left seven princes, or knights as they are also called, to take charge of his dominions, we have an instance of the kind. the stead or town was named after the seven knights, and it is a place which is now known as bryn y saith marchog, 'the hill of the seven knights,' near gwydelwern, in merionethshire. but the wording of the mabinogi of branwen is o acha s hynny y dodet seith marcha c ar y dref [ ], meaning 'for that reason the stead was called seven knights,' literally 'for that reason one put seven knights on the stead.' in guest's mabinogion, iii. , this will be found rendered wrongly, though not wholly without excuse--'for this reason were the seven knights placed in the town.' it is probable that the redactor of the stories from which the two foregoing instances come--and more might be cited--was not so much courting ambiguities as adhering to an old form of expression which neglected from the first to distinguish, in any formal way, between names and the persons or things which they would, in modern phraseology, be said to represent [ ]. an instance has been already mentioned of a man's name being put or set on him, or rather forced on him: at any rate, his name is on him both in welsh and irish, and the latter language also speaks of it as cleaving or adhering to him. neither language contemplates the name, however closely identified with him, as having become an inseparable part of him, or else as something he has secured for himself. in the neo-celtic tongues, both welsh and irish, all things which a man owns, and all things for which he takes credit, are with him or by him; but all things which he cannot help having, whether creditable or discreditable, if they are regarded as coming from without are on him, not with him. thus, if he is wealthy there is money with him; but if he is in debt and owes money, the money is on him. similarly, if he rejoices there is joy with him; whereas if he is ashamed or afraid, shame or fear is on him. this is a far-reaching distinction, of capital importance in celtic phraseology, and judged by this criterion the name is something from without the man, something which he cannot take credit to himself for having acquired by his own direct willing or doing. this is to be borne in mind when one speaks of the name as identified or closely bound up with one's life and personality. but this qualified identification of the name with the man is also what one may infer from savage folklore; for many, perhaps most, of the nations who name their children at their birth, have those names changed when the children grow up. that is done when a boy has to be initiated into the mysteries of his tribe or of a guild, or it may be when he has achieved some distinction in war. in most instances, it involves a serious ceremony and the intervention of the wise man, whether the medicine-man of a savage system, or the priest of a higher religion [ ]. in the ancient wales of the mabinogion, and in pagan ireland, the name-giving was done, subject to certain conditions, at the will and on the initiative of the druid, who was at the same time tutor and teacher of the youth to be renamed [ ]. here i may be allowed to direct attention to the two following facts: the druid, recalling as he does the magician of the egypt of the pentateuch and the shaman of the mongolian world of our own time, represented a profession probably not of celtic origin. in the next place, his method of selecting names from incidents was palpably incompatible with what is known to have been the aryan system of nomenclature, by means of compounds, as evinced by the annals of most nations of the aryan family of speech: such compounds, i mean, as welsh pen-wyn, 'white-headed,' gaulish penno-ouindos, or greek hipparchos, archippos, and the like. briefly, one may say that the association of the name with the breath of life was probably aryan, but without, perhaps, being unfamiliar to the aborigines of the british isles before their conquest by the celts. on the other hand, in the druid and his method of naming we seem to touch the non-aryan substratum, and to detect something which was not celtic, not aryan [ ]. perhaps the reader will not regard it as wholly irrelevant if here i change the subject for a while from one's name to other words and locutions in so far as they may be regarded as illustrative of the mental surroundings in which the last paragraph leaves the name. i allude especially to the exaggerated influence associated with a form of words, more particularly among the irish celts. o'curry gives a tragic instance: the poet néde mac adnai, in order to obtain possession of the throne of connaught, asked an impossible request of the king, who was his own father's brother and named caier. when the king declared his inability to accede to his demand the poet made the refusal his excuse for composing on the king what was called in irish an áir or áer, written later aor, 'satire,' which ran approximately thus:-- evil, death, short life to caier! may spears of battle wound caier! caier quenched, caier forced, caier underground! under ramparts, under stones with caier! o'curry goes on to relate how caier, washing his face at the fountain next morning, discovered that it had three blisters on it, which the satire had raised, to wit, disgrace, blemish, and defect, in colours of crimson, green, and white. so caier fleeing, that his plight might not be seen of his friends, came to dun cearmna (now the old head of kinsale, in county cork), the residence of caichear, chief of that district. there caier was well received as a stranger of unknown quality, while néde assumed the sovereignty of connaught. in time, néde came to know of caier being there, and rode there in caier's chariot. but as néde approached caier escaped through his host's house and hid himself in the cleft of a rock, whither néde followed caier's greyhound; and when caier saw néde, the former dropped dead of shame [ ]. this abstract of the story as told by o'curry, will serve to show how the words of the satirist were dreaded by high and low among the ancient irish, and how their demands had to be at once obeyed. it is a commonplace of irish literature that the satirist's words unfailingly raised blisters on the face of him at whom they were aimed. a portion at least of the potency of the poet's words seems to have been regarded as due to their being given a certain metrical form. that, however, does not show how the poet had acquired his influence, and one cannot shut one's eyes to the fact that the means he might adopt to make his influence felt and his wishes instantly attended to, implied that the race with which he had to deal was a highly sensitive one: i may perhaps apply to it the adjective thin-skinned, in the literal sense of that word. for the blisters on the face are only an exaggeration of a natural phenomenon. on this point my attention has been called by a friend to the following passages in a review of a work on the pathology of the emotions [ ]:-- 'to both the hurtful and curative effects of the emotions m. féré devotes much attention, and on these points makes some interesting remarks. that the emotions act on the body, more by their effects on the circulation than by anything else, is no new thesis, but m. féré is developing some new branches of it. that the heart may be stopped for a few seconds, and that there may be localised flush and pallor of the skin, owing to almost any strong emotion, whether it be joy, anger, fear, or pain, is a matter of common observation; and that there may be many changes of nutrition due to vaso-motor disturbance is a point easy to establish. the skin is particularly easily affected; passion and pain may produce a sweat that is truly hemorrhagic (parrot); and the scientific world is obliged to admit that in the stigmata of louise lateau the blood vessels were really broken, and not broken by anything else than an emotional state as cause. in a shipwreck follain tells us that the pilot was covered in an hour with pustules from his fear; and the doctor sees many dermato-neuroses, such as nettle-rash, herpes, pemphigus, vitiligo, &c, from the choc moral.' i can illustrate this from my own observation: when i was an undergraduate there was with me at college a welsh undergraduate, who, when teased or annoyed by his friends, was well known to be subject to a sort of rash or minute pustules on his face: it would come on in the course of an hour or so. there is a well-known welsh line on this subject of the face which is to the point:-- ni chel grud gystud càlon. the cheek hides not the heart's affliction. so a man who was insulted, or whose honour was assailed, might be said to be thereby put to the blush or to be otherwise injured in his face; and the irish word enech, 'face,' is found commonly used as a synonym for one's honour or good name. the same appears to have been the case with the welsh equivalent, wyneb, 'face,' and dyn di-wyneb, literally 'a faceless man,' appears to be now used in carnarvonshire and glamorgan in the sense of one who is without a sense of honour, an unprincipled fellow. so when welsh law dealt with insults and attacks on one's honour the payment to be made to the injured person was called gwynebwerth, 'the price of one's face,' or gwynebwarth, 'the payment for disgracing one's face.' irish law arranged for similar damages, and called them by analogous names, such as enech-gris, 'a fine for injuring or raising a blush on the face,' and enech-lóg or enech-lann, 'honour price'; compare also enech-ruice, 'a face-reddening or blushing caused by some act or scandal which brought shame on a family.' possibly one has to do with traces of somewhat the same type of 'face,' though it has faded away to the verge of vanishing, when one speaks in english of keeping another in countenance. it has been suggested that if a magician got a man's name he could injure him by means of his arts: now the converse seems to have been the case with the irish áer or satire, for to be effective it had, as in the instance of caier, to mention the victim's name; and a curious instance occurs in the book of leinster, fo. , where the poet atherne failed to curse a person whose name he could not manipulate according to the rules of his satire. this man atherne is described as inhospitable, stingy, and greedy to the last degree. so it is related how he sallied forth one day, taking with him a cooked pig and a pot of mead, to a place where he intended to gorge himself without being observed. but no sooner had he settled down to his meal than he saw a man approaching, who remarked to him on his operating on the food all alone, and unceremoniously picked up the porker and the pot of mead. as he was coolly walking away with them, atherne cried out after him, 'what is thy name?' the stranger replied that it was nothing very grand, and gave it as follows:-- sethor . ethor . othor . sele . dele . dreng gerce mec gerlusce . ger ger . dír dír issed moainmse. sethor-ethor-othor-sele-dele-dreng gerce son of gerlusce ger-ger-dír-dír, that is my name. the story goes on to say that atherne neither saw his meal any more nor succeeded in making a satire on the name of the stranger, who accordingly got away unscathed. it was surmised, we are told, that he was an angel come from god to teach the poet better manners. this comic story brings us back to the importance of the name, as it implies that the cursing poet, had he been able to seize it and duly work it into his satire, could not have failed to bring about the intruder's discomfiture. the magician and folklore philosopher, far from asking with juliet, 'what's in a name?' would have rather put it the other way, 'what's not in a name?' at any rate the ancients believed that there was a great deal in a name, and traces of the importance which they gave it are to be found in modern speech: witness the article on name or its equivalent in a big dictionary of any language possessed of a great literature. it has been seen that it is from the point of view of magic that the full importance of one's name was most keenly realized by our ancient celts; that is, of magic more especially in that stage of its history when it claimed as its own a certain degree of skill in the art of verse-making. perhaps, indeed, it would be more accurate to suppose that verse-making appertained from the outset to magic, and that it was magicians, medicine-men, or seers, who, for their own use, first invented the aids of rhythm and metre. the subject, however, of magic and its accessories is far too vast to be treated here: it has been touched upon here and there in some of the previous chapters, and i may add that wizardry and magic form the machinery, so to say, of the stories called in welsh the 'four branches of the mabinogi' namely those of pwyll, branwen, manawydan, and math. now these four, together with the adventure of llûd and llevelys, and, in a somewhat qualified sense, the story of kulhwch and olwen, represent in a brythonicized form the otherwise lost legends of the welsh goidels; and, like those of the irish goidels, they are remarkable for their wizardry. nor is that all, for in the former the kings are mostly the greatest magicians of their time: or shall i rather put it the other way, and say that in them the greatest magicians function as kings? witness math son of mathonwy king of gwyned, and his sister's son, gwydion ab dôn, to whom as his successor he duly taught his magic; then come the arch-enchanter arawn, king of annwn, and caswallon ab beli, represented as winning his kingdom by the sheer force of magic. to these might be added other members of the kingly families whose story shows them playing the rôle of magicians, such as rhiannon, who by her magic arts foiled her powerful suitor, gwawl ab clûd, and secured as her consort the man of her choice, pwyll prince of dyfed. here also, perhaps, one might mention manawydan ab llyr, who, as manannán mac lir, figures in the stories of the goidels of erin and man as a consummate wizard and first king of the manx people: see p. above. in the mabinogi, however, no act of magic is ascribed to manawydan, though he is represented successfully checkmating the most formidable wizard arrayed against him and his friends, to wit, llwyd ab kilcoed. not only does one get the impression that the ruling class in these stories of the welsh goidels had their magic handed down from generation to generation according to a fixed rule of maternal succession (pp. , , ), but it supplies the complete answer to and full explanation of questions as to the meaning of the terms already mentioned, tuatha dé ocus andé, and lucht cumachtai, together with its antithesis. within the magic-wielding class exercising dominion over the shepherds and tillers of the soil of the country, it is but natural to suppose that the first king was the first magician or greatest medicine-man, as in the case of manannán in the isle of man. this must of course be understood to apply to the early history of the goidelic race, or, perhaps more correctly speaking, to one of the races which had contributed to its composition: to the aborigines, let us say, by whatsoever name or names you may choose to call them, whether picts or ivernians. it is significant, among other things, that our traditions should connect the potency of ancient wizardry with descent in the female line of succession, and, in any case, one cannot be wrong in assuming magic to have begun very low down in the scale of social progress, probably lower than religion, with which it is essentially in antagonism. as the crude and infantile pack of notions, collectively termed sympathetic magic--beginning with the belief that any effect may be produced by imitating the action of the cause of it, or even doing anything that would recall it [ ]--grew into the panoply of the magician, he came to regard himself, and to be regarded by others, as able for his own benefit and that of his friends to coerce all possible opponents, whether men or demons, heroes or gods. this left no room for the attitude of prayer and worship: religion in that sense could only come later. chapter xii race in folklore and myth the method of philological mythology is thus discredited by the disputes of its adherents. the system may be called orthodox, but it is an orthodoxy which alters with every new scholar who enters the sacred enclosure.--andrew lang. it has been well said, that while it is not science to know the contents of myths, it is science to know why the human race has produced them. it is not my intention to trace minutely the history of that science, but i may hazard the remark, that she could not be said to have reached years of discretion till she began to compare one thing with another; and even when mythology had become comparative mythology, her horizon remained till within recent years comparatively narrow. in other words, the comparisons were wont to be very circumscribed: you might, one was told, compare the myths of greeks and teutons and hindus, because those nations were considered to be of the same stock; but even within that range comparisons were scarcely contemplated, except in the case of myths enshrined in the most classical literatures of those nations. this kind of mythology was eclectic rather than comparative, and it was apt to regard myths as a mere disease of language. by-and-by, however, the student showed a preference for a larger field and a wider range; and in so doing he was, whether consciously or unconsciously, beginning to keep step with a larger movement extending to the march of all the kindred sciences, and especially that of language. at one time the student of language was satisfied with mummified speech, wrapped up, as it were, in the musty coils of the records of the past: in fact, he often became a mere researcher of the dead letter of language, instead of a careful observer of the breath of life animating her frame. so long as that remained the case, glottology deserved the whole irony of voltaire's well-known account of etymology as being in fact, 'une science où les voyelles ne font rien, et les consonnes fort peu de chose.' in the course, however, of recent years a great change has come over the scene: not only have the laws of the aryan consonants gained greatly in precision, but those of the aryan vowels have at last been discovered to a considerable extent. the result for me and others who learnt that the aryan peasant of idyllic habits harped eternally on the three notes of a, i, u, is that we have to unlearn this and a great deal more: in fact, the vowels prove to be far more troublesome than the consonants. but difficult as these lessons are, the glottologist must learn them, unless he is content to remain with the stragglers who happen to be unable to move on. now the change to which i allude, in connexion with the study of language, has been inseparably accompanied with the paying of increased attention to actual speech, with a more careful scrutiny of dialects, even obscure dialects such as the literary man is wont to regard with scorn. similarly the student of mythology now seeks the wherewithal of his comparisons from the mouth of the traveller and the missionary, wherever they may roam; not from the rig-veda or the iliad alone, but from the rude stories of the peasant, and the wild fancies of the savage from tierra del fuego to greenland's icy mountains. the parallel may be drawn still closer. just as the glottologist, fearing lest the written letter may have slurred over or hidden away important peculiarities of ancient speech, resorts for a corrective to the actuality of modern aryan, so the mythologist, apt to suspect the testimony of the highly respectable bards of the rig-veda, may on occasion give ear to the fresh evidence of a savage, however inconsequent it may sound. the movements to which i allude in glottology and mythology began so recently that their history has not yet been written. suffice it to say that in glottology, or the science of language, the names most intimately connected with the new departure are those of ascoli, j. schmidt, and fick, those of leskien, brugmann, osthoff, and de saussure; while of the names of the teachers of the anthropological method of studying myths, several are by this time household words in this country. but, so far as i know, the first to give a systematic exposition of the subject was professor tylor, in his work on primitive culture, published first in . such has been the intimate connexion between mythology and glottology that i may be pardoned for going back again to the latter. it is applicable in its method to all languages, but, as a matter of fact, it came into being in the domain of aryan philology, so that it has been all along principally the science of comparing the aryan languages with one another. it began with sir william jones' discovery of the kinship of sanskrit with greek and latin, and for a long time it took the lead of the more closely related sciences: this proved partly beneficial and partly the reverse. in the case of ethnology, for instance, the influence of glottology has probably done more harm than good, since it has opened up a wide field for confounding race with language. in the case of mythology the same influence has been partly helpful, and it has partly fallen short of being such. where names could be analysed with certainty, and where they could be equated, leaving little room for doubt, as in the case of that of the greek zeus, the norse týr, and the sanskrit dyaus, the science of language rendered a veritable help to mythology; but where the students of language, all pointing in different directions, claimed each to hold in his hand the one safety-lamp, beyond the range of which the mythologist durst not take a single step except at the imminent risk of breaking his neck, the help may be pronounced, to say the least of it, as somewhat doubtful. the anthropological method of studying myths put an end to the unequal relation between the students of the two sciences, and it is now pretty well agreed that the proper relationship between them is that of mutual aid. this will doubtless prove the solution of the whole matter, but it would be premature to say that the period of strained relations is quite over, since the mythologist has so recently made good his escape from the embarrassing attentions of the students of language, that he has not yet quite got out of his ears the bewildering notes of the chorus of discordant cries of 'dawn,' 'sun,' and 'storm-cloud.' now that i have touched on the friendly relations which ought to exist between the science of language and the science of myth, i may perhaps be allowed to notice a point or two where it is possible or desirable for the one to render service to the other. the student of language naturally wants the help of the student of myth, ritual, and religion on matters which most immediately concern his own department of study; and i may perhaps be excused for taking my stand on celtic ground, and calling attention to some of my own difficulties. here is one of them: when one would say in english 'it rains' or 'it freezes,' i should have to say in my own language, y mae hi'n bwrw glaw and y mae hi'n rhewi, which literally means 'she is casting rain' and 'she is freezing.' nor is this sort of locution confined to weather topics, for when you would say 'he is badly off' or 'he is hard up,' a welshman might say, y mae hi'n drwg arno or y mae hi'n galed arno, that is literally, 'she is evil on him' or 'she is hard on him.' and the same feminine pronoun fixes itself in other locutions in the language. now i wish to invoke the student of myth, ritual, and religion to help in the identification of this ubiquitous 'she' of the welsh. whenever it is mentioned to englishmen, it merely calls to their minds the highland 'she' of english and scotch caricature, as for instance when sir walter scott makes donald appeal in the following strain to lord menteith's man, anderson, who had learnt manners in france: 'what the deil, man, can she no drink after her ain master without washing the cup and spilling the ale, and be tamned to her!' the highlander denies the charge which our caricature tries to fasten on him; but even granting that it was once to some extent justified, it is easy to explain it by a reference to gaelic, where the pronouns se and sibh, for 'he' and 'you' respectively, approach in pronunciation the sound of the english pronoun 'she.' this may have led to confusion in the mouths of highlanders who had but very imperfectly mastered english. in any case, it is far too superficial to be quoted as a parallel to the hi, 'she,' in question in welsh. a cautious celtist, if such there be, might warn us, before proceeding further with the search, to make sure that the whole phenomenon is not a mere accident of welsh phonetics, and that it is not a case of two pronouns, one meaning 'she' and the other 'it,' being confounded as the result merely of phonetic decay. the answer to that is, that the language knows nothing of any neuter pronoun which could assume the form of the hi which occupies us; and further, that in locutions where the legitimate representative of the neuter might be expected, the pronoun used is a different one, ef, e, meaning both 'he' and 'it,' as in ï-e for ï-ef, 'it is he, she, it or they,' nag-e, 'not he, she, it or they,' ef a allai or fe allai, 'perhaps, peradventure, peut-être, il est possible.' the french sentence suggests the analogous question, what was the original force of denotation of the 'il' in such sentences as 'il fait beau,' 'il pleut,' and 'il neige'? in such cases it now denotes nobody in particular, but has it always been one of his names? french historical grammar may be able, unaided, to dispose of the attenuated fortunes of m. il, but we have to look for help to the student of myth and allied subjects to enable us to identify the great 'she' persistently eluding our search in the syntax of the welsh language. only two feminine names suggest themselves to me as in any way appropriate: one is tynghed, 'fate or fortune,' and the other is dôn, mother of some of the most nebulous personages in celtic literature. there is, however, no evidence to show that either of them is really the 'she' of whom we are in quest; but i have something to say about both as illustrating the other side of the theme, how the study of language may help mythology. this i have so far only illustrated by a reference to the equation of zeus with dyaus and their congeners. within the range of celtic legend the case is similar with dôn, who figures on welsh ground, as i have hinted, as mother of certain heroes of the oldest chapters of the mabinogion. for it is from her that gwydion, the bard and arch-magician, and gofannon the smith his brother, are called sons of dôn; and so in the case of arianrhod, daughter of dôn, mother of llew, and owner of the sea-laved castle of caer arianrhod, not far distant from the prehistoric mound of dinas dinlle, near the western mouth of the menai straits, as already mentioned in another chapter, p. above. in irish legend, we detect dôn under the irish form of her name, danu or donu, genitive danann or donann, and she is almost singular there in always being styled a divinity. from her the great mythical personages of irish legend are called tuatha dé danann, or 'the goddess danu's tribes,' and sometimes fir déa, or 'the men of the divinity.' the last stage in the welsh history of dôn consists of her translation to the skies, where the constellation of cassiopeia is supposed to constitute llys dôn or dôn's court, as the corona borealis is identified with caer arianrhod or 'the castle of dôn's daughter'; but, as was perhaps fitting, the dimensions of both are reduced to comparative littleness by caer gwydion, 'the magician gwydion's battlements,' spread over the radiant expanse of the whole milky way [ ]. now the identification of this ancient goddess danu or dôn as that in whom the oldest legends of the irish goidels and the welsh goidels converge, has been the work not so much of mythology as of the science of language; for it was the latter that showed how to call back a little colouring into the vanishing lineaments of this faded ancestral divinity [ ]. for my next illustration, namely tynghed, 'fate,' i would cite a passage from the opening of one of the most celtic of welsh stories, that of kulhwch and olwen. kulhwch's father, after being for some time a widower, marries again, and conceals from his second wife the fact that he has a son. she finds it out and lets her husband know it; so he sends for his son kulhwch, and the following is the account of the son's interview with his stepmother, as given in lady charlotte guest's translation, ii. :--'his stepmother said unto him, "it were well for thee to have a wife, and i have a daughter who is sought of every man of renown in the world." "i am not of an age to wed," answered the youth. then said she unto him, "i declare to thee, that it is thy destiny not to be suited with a wife until thou obtain olwen, the daughter of yspadaden penkawr." and the youth blushed, and the love of the maiden diffused itself through all his frame, although he had never seen her. and his father inquired of him, "what has come over thee, my son, and what aileth thee?" "my stepmother has declared to me, that i shall never have a wife until i obtain olwen, the daughter of yspadaden penkawr." "that will be easy for thee," answered his father. "arthur is thy cousin. go, therefore, unto arthur to cut thy hair, and ask this of him as a boon."' the physical theory of love for an unknown lady at the first mention of her name, and the allusion to the celtic tonsure, will have doubtless caught the reader's attention, but i only wish to speak of the words which the translator has rendered, 'i declare to thee, that it is thy destiny not to be suited with a wife until thou obtain olwen.' more closely rendered, the original might be translated thus: 'i swear thee a destiny that thy side touch not a wife till thou obtain olwen.' the word in the welsh for destiny is tynghet (for an earlier tuncet), and the corresponding irish word is attested as tocad. both these words have a tendency, like 'fate,' to be used mostly in peiorem partem. formerly, however, they might be freely used in an auspicious sense likewise, as for instance in the woman's name tunccetace, on an early inscribed stone in pembrokeshire. if her name had been rendered into latin she would have probably been called fortunata, as a namesake of good fortune. i render the welsh mi a tynghaf dynghet itt [ ] into english, 'i swear thee a destiny'; but, more literally still, one might possibly render it 'i swear thee a swearing,' that is, 'i swear thee an oath,' meaning 'i swear for thee an oath which will bind thee.' the stepmother, it is true, is not represented going through the form of words, for what she said appears to have been a regular formula, just like that of putting a person in medieval irish story under gessa or bonds of magic; but an oath or form of imprecation was once doubtless a dark reality behind this formula. in the southern part of my native county of cardigan, the phrase in question has been in use within the last thirty years, and the practice which it denotes is still so well known as to be the subject of local stories. a friend of mine, who is not yet fifty, vividly remembers listening to an uncle of his relating how narrowly he once escaped having the oath forced on him. he was in the hilly portion of the parish of llanwenog, coming home across country in the dead of a midsummer's night, when leaping over a fence he unexpectedly came down close to a man actively engaged in sheep-stealing. the uncle instantly took to his heels, while the thief pursued him with a knife. if the thief had caught him, it is understood that he would have held his knife at his throat and forced on him an oath of secrecy. i have not been able to ascertain the wording of the oath, but all i can learn goes to show that it was dreaded only less than death itself. in fact, there are stories current of men who failed to recover from the effects of the oath, but lingered and died in a comparatively short time. since i got the foregoing story i have made inquiries of others in south cardiganshire, and especially of a medical friend of mine, who speaks chiefly as to his native parish of llangynllo. i found that the idea is perfectly familiar to him and my other informants; but, strange to say, from nobody could i gather that the illness is considered to result necessarily from the violent administration of the tynghed to the victim, or from the latter's disregarding the secrecy of it by disclosing to his friends the name of the criminal. in fact, i cannot discover that any such secrecy is emphasized so long as the criminal is not publicly brought before a court of justice. rather is it that the tynghed effects blindly the ruin of the sworn man's health, regardless of his conduct. at any rate, that is the interpretation which i am forced to put on what i have been told. the phrase tyngu tynghed [ ], intelligible still in wales, recalls another instance of the importance of the spoken word, to wit, the latin fatum. nay, it seems to suggest that the latter might have perhaps originally been part of some such a formula as alicui fatum fari, 'to say one a saying,' in the pregnant sense of applying to him words of power. this is all the more to the point, as it is well known how closely latin and celtic are related to one another, and how every advance in the study of those languages goes to add emphasis to their kinship. from the kinship of the languages one may expect, to a certain extent, a similarity of rites and customs, and one has not to go further for this than the very story which i have cited. when kulhwch's father first married, he is said to have sought a gwreic kynmwyt ac ef [ ], which means 'a wife of the same food with him.' thus the wedded wife was she, probably, who ate with her husband, and we are reminded of the food ceremony which constituted the aristocratic marriage in ancient rome: it was called confarreatio, and in the course of it an offering of cake, called farreum libum, used to be made to jupiter. a great french student of antiquity, m. fustel de coulanges, describes the ceremony thus [ ]:--'les deux époux, comme en grèce, font un sacrifice, versent la libation, prononcent quelques prières, et mangent ensemble un gâteau de fleur de farine (panis farreus).' lastly, my attention has been directed to the place given to bread in the stories of llyn y fan fach and llyn elfarch. for on turning back to pp. - , - , , the reader will find too much made of the bread to allow us to suppose that it had no meaning in the courtship. the young farmer having fallen in love at first sight with the lake maiden, it looks as if he wished, by inducing her to share the bread he was eating, to go forthwith through a form of marriage by a kind of confarreation that committed her to a contract to be his wife without any tedious delay. to return to the latin fatum, i would point out that the romans had a plurality of fata; but how far they were suggested by the greek moirai is not quite clear: nor is it known that the ancient welsh had more than one tynghed. in the case, however, of old norse literature, we come across the fate there as one bearing a name which is perhaps cognate with the welsh tynghed. i allude to a female figure, called Þokk, who appears in the touching myth of balder's death. when balder had fallen at the hands of loki and hödr, his mother frigg asked who would like to earn her good will by going as her messenger to treat with hell for the release of balder. hermódr the swift, another of the sons of woden, undertook to set out on that journey on his father's charger sleipnir. for nine dreary nights he pursued his perilous course without interruption, through glens dark and deep, till he came to the river called yell, when he was questioned as to his errand by the maid in charge of the yell bridge. on and on he rode afterwards till he came to the fence of hell's abode, which his horse cleared at full speed. hermódr entered the hall, and there found his brother balder seated in the place of honour. he abode with him that night, and in the morning he asked hell to let balder ride home with him to the anses. he urged hell to consider the grief which everybody and everything felt for balder. she replied that she would put that to the test by letting balder go if everything animate and inanimate would weep for him; but he would be detained if anybody or anything declined to do so. hermódr made his way back alone to the anses, and announced to frigg the answer which hell had given to her request. messengers were sent forth without delay to bid all the world beweep woden's son out of the power of hell. this was done accordingly by all, by men and animals, by earth and stones, by trees and all metals, 'as you have doubtless seen these things weep,' says the writer of the prose edda, 'when they pass from frost to warmth.' when the messengers, however, were on their way home, after discharging their duty, they chanced on a cave where dwelt a giantess called Þokk, whom they ordered to join in the weeping for balder; but she only answered:-- Þokk will weep dry tears at balder's bale-fire. what is the son of man, quick or dead, to me! let hell keep what she holds [ ]. in this ogress Þokk, deaf to the appeals of the tenderer feelings, we seem to have the counterpart of our celtic tocad and tynghed; and the latter's name as a part of the formula in the welsh story, while giving us the key of the myth, shows how the early aryan knew of nothing more binding than the magic force of an oath. on the one hand, this conception of destiny carries with it the marks of its humble origin, and one readily agrees with cicero's words, de divinatione, ii. , when he says, anile sane et plenum superstitionis fati nomen ipsum. on the other hand, it rises to the grim dignity of a name for the dark, inexorable power which the whole universe is conceived to obey, a power before which the great and resplendent zeus of the aryan race is a mere puppet. perhaps i have dwelt only too long on the policy of 'give and take' which ought to obtain between mythology and glottology. unfortunately, one can add without fear of contradiction, that, even when that policy is carried out to the utmost, both sciences will still have difficulties more than enough. in the case of mythology these difficulties spring chiefly from two distinct sources, from the blending of history with myth, and from the mixing of one race with another. let us now consider the latter: the difficulties from this source are many and great, but every fresh acquisition of knowledge tending to make our ideas of ethnology more accurate, gives us a better leverage for placing the myths of mixed peoples in their proper places as regards the races composing those peoples. still, we have far fewer propositions to lay down than questions to ask: thus to go no further afield than the well-known stories attaching to the name of heracles, how many of them are aryan, how many semitic, and how many aryan and semitic at one and the same time? that is the sort of question which besets the student of celtic mythology at every step; for the celtic nations of the present day are the mixed descendants of aryan invaders and the native populations which those aryan invaders found in possession. so the question thrusts itself on the student, to which of these races a particular myth, rite, or custom is to be regarded as originally belonging. take, for instance, brân's colossal figure, to which attention has already been called, pp. - above. brân was too large to enter a house or go on board a ship: is he to be regarded as the outcome of celtic imagination, or of that of a people that preceded the celts in celtic lands? the comparison with the gaulish tricephal would seem to point in the direction of the southern seaboard of the baltic (p. ): what then? the same kind of question arises in reference to the irish hero cúchulainn: take, for instance, the stock description of cúchulainn in a rage. thus when angered he underwent strange distortions: the calves of his legs came round to where his shins should have been; his mouth enlarged itself so that it showed his liver and lungs swinging in his throat; one of his eyes became as small as a needle's, or else it sank back into his head further than a crane could have reached, while the other protruded itself to a corresponding length; every hair on his body became as sharp as a thorn, and held on its point a drop of blood or a spark of fire. it would be dangerous then to stop him from fighting, and even when he had fought enough, he required for his cooling to be plunged into three baths of cold water; the first into which he went would instantly boil over, the second would be too hot for anybody else to bear, and the third only would be of congenial warmth. i do not ask whether that strange picture betrays a touch of the solar brush, but i should be very glad to know whether it can be regarded as an aryan creation or not. it is much the same with matters other than mythological: take, for instance, the bedlamite custom of the couvade [ ], which is presented to us in irish literature in the singular form of a cess, 'suffering or indisposition,' simultaneously attacking the braves of ancient ulster. we are briefly informed in the book of the dun cow, fo. a, that the women and boys of ulster were free from it. so was any ultonian, we are told, who happened to be outside the boundaries of his country, and so were cúchulainn and his father, even when in ulster. any one who was rash enough to attack an ultonian warrior during this his period of helplessness could not, it is further stated, expect to live afterwards either prosperously or long. the question for us, however, is this: was the couvade introduced by the aryan invaders of ireland, or are we rather to trace it to an earlier race? i should be, i must confess, inclined to the latter view, especially as the couvade was known among the iberians of old, and among the ancient corsicans [ ]. it may, of course, have been both aryan and iberian, but it will all the same serve as a specimen of the sort of question which one has to try to answer. another instance, the race origin of which one would like to ascertain, offers itself in the curious belief, that, when a child is born, it is one of the ancestors of the family come back to live again. traces of this occur in irish literature, namely, in one of the stories about cúchulainn. there we read to the following effect:--the ultonians took counsel on account of cúchulainn, because their wives and girls loved him greatly; for cúchulainn had no consort at that time. this was their counsel, namely, that they should seek for cúchulainn a consort pleasing to him to woo. for it was evident to them that a man who has the consort of his companionship with him would be so much the less likely to attempt the ruin of their girls and to receive the affection of their wives. then, moreover, they were anxious and afraid lest the death of cúchulainn should take place early, so they were desirous for that reason to give him a wife in order that he might leave an heir; for they knew that it was from himself that his rebirth (athgein) would be. that is what one reads in the eleventh-century copy of the ancient manuscript of the book of the dun cow, fo. b; and this atavistic belief, which was touched upon in connexion with the transformations discussed in the last chapter, i need scarcely say, is well known elsewhere to the anthropologist, as one will find on consulting the opening pages of dr. tylor's second volume on primitive culture. he there mentions the idea as familiar to american indians, to various african peoples, to the maoris and the aborigines of australia, to cheremiss tartars and lapps. among such nations the words of don diègue to his victorious son, the cid, could hardly fail to be construed in a sort of literal sense when he exclaims:-- ............ ton illustre audace fait bien revivre en toi les héros de ma race. let us return to cúchulainn, and note the statement, that he and his father, sualdaim, were exempt from the couvade, which marks them out as not of the same race as the ultonians, that is to say, as the fír ulaid, or 'true ultonians'--presumably ancient inhabitants of ulster. furthermore, we have an indication whence his family had come, for cúchulainn's first name was setanta beg, 'the little setantian,' which points to the coast of what is now lancashire, as already indicated at p. above. another thing which marks cúchulainn as of a different racial origin from the other ultonians is the belief of the latter, that his rebirth must be from himself. the meaning of this remarkable statement is that there were two social systems face to face in ulster at the time represented by the cúchulainn story, and that one of them recognized fatherhood, while the other did not. thus for cúchulainn's rebirth to be from himself, he must be the father of a child from whom should descend a man who would be a rebirth or avatar of cúchulainn. the other system implied was one which reckoned descent by birth alone [ ]; and the cúchulainn story gives one the impression that it contemplated this system as the predominant one, while the cúchulainn family, with its reckoning of fatherhood, comes in as an exception. at all events, that is how i now understand a passage, the full significance of which had till recently escaped me. allusion has already been made to the story of cúchulainn being himself a rebirth, namely, of lug, and the story deserves still further consideration in its bearing on the question of race, to which the reader's attention has been called. it is needless, however, to say that there are extant fragments of more stories than one as to cúchulainn's origin. sometimes, as in the book of leinster, fo. a, he is called gein loga, or lug's offspring, and in the epic tale of the táin bó cuailnge, lug as his father comes from the síd or faery to take cúchulainn's place in the field, when the latter was worn out with sleeplessness and toil. lug sings over him éli loga, or 'lug's enchantment,' and cúchulainn gets the requisite rest and sleep [ ]: this we read in the book of the dun cow, fo. a. in another version of the story, cúchulainn is an incarnation of lug: the narrative relates how a foster-son was accepted by dechtere, sister to conchobar macnessa, king of ulster. but her foster-son died young, to the great grief of dechtere; and her lamentations for him on the day of his funeral having made her thirsty, she inadvertently swallowed with her drink a diminutive creature which sprang into her mouth. that night she had a dream, in which a man informed her that she was pregnant, that it was he who was in her womb, that he had been her foster-son, and that he was lug; also that when his birth should take place, the name was to be setanta. after an incident which i can only regard as a clumsy attempt to combine the more primitive legend with the story which makes him son of sualdaim, she gives birth to the boy, and he is duly called setanta [ ]: that was cúchulainn's first name. now compare this with what dr. tylor mentions in the case of the lapps, namely, that 'the future mother was told in a dream what name to give her child, this message being usually given her by the very spirit of the deceased ancestor, who was about to be incarnate in her [ ].' if the mother got no such intimation in a dream, the relatives of the child had to have recourse to magic and the aid of the wise man, to discover the name to be given to the child. here let it suffice to say, that the similarity is so close between the irish and the lapp idea, and so unlike anything known to have been aryan, that it is well worth bearing in mind. the belief in rebirth generally seems to fit as a part of the larger belief in the transmigration of souls which is associated with the teachings of the ancient druids, a class of shamans or medicine-men who were probably, as already hinted, not of celtic or aryan origin; and probably the beliefs here in question were those of some non-aryan people of these islands, rather than of any aryans who settled in them. this view need hardly be regarded as incompatible with the fact, that lug's name, genitive loga, would seem to have meant light, and that lug was a sun-god, very possibly a celtic sun-god: or more correctly speaking, that there was a series of lugs, so to say, or sun-gods, called in ancient spain, switzerland, and on the banks of the rhine, lugoves [ ]. for one is sorely tempted to treat this much as a rescue from the wreckage of the solar myth theory, as against those who, having regard mainly to lug's professional skill and craft as described in irish story, make of him a kind of hermes or mercury. in other words, we have either to regard a celtic lug as having become the centre of certain non-celtic legends, or else to suppose neither lug nor his name to be of aryan origin at all. it is hard to say which is the sounder view to take. the next question which i wish to suggest is as to the ethnology of the fairies; but before coming to that, one has to ask how the fairies have been evolved. the idea of fairies, such as welshmen have been familiar with from their childhood, clearly involves elements of two distinct origins. some of those elements come undoubtedly from the workshop of the imagination, as, for example, the stock notion that their food and drink are brought to the fairies by the mere force of wishing, and without the ministration of servants; or the notion, especially prevalent in arfon, that the fairies dwell in a country beneath the lakes of snowdon; not to mention the more general connexion of a certain class of fairies with the world of waters, as indicated in chapter vii. add to this that the dead ancestor has also probably contributed to our bundle of notions about them; but that contains also an element of fact or something which may at any rate be conceived as historical. under this head i should place the following articles of faith concerning them: the sallowness of their skins and the smallness of their stature, their dwelling underground, their dislike of iron, and the comparative poverty of their homes in the matter of useful articles of furniture, their deep-rooted objection to the green sward being broken up by the plough, the success of the fairy wife in attending to the domestic animals and to the dairy, the limited range generally of the fairies' ability to count; and lastly, one may perhaps mention their using a language of their own (p. ), which would imply a time when the little people understood no other, and explain why they should be represented doing their marketing without uttering a syllable to anybody (p. ). the attribution of these and similar characteristics to the fairies can scarcely be all mere feats of fancy and imagination: rather do they seem to be the result of our ancestors projecting on an imaginary world a primitive civilization through which tradition represented their own race as having passed, or, more probably, a civilization in which they saw, or thought they saw, another race actually living. let us recur for examples also to the two lake legends which have just been mentioned (p. ): in both of them a distinction is drawn between the lake fairy's notion of bread and that of the men and women of the country. to the fairy the latter's bread appeared crimped or overbaked: possibly the backward civilization, to which she was supposed to belong, was content to support itself on some kind of unleavened bread, if not rather on a fare which included nothing deserving to be called bread at all. witness giraldus cambrensis' story of eliodorus, in which bread is conspicuous by its absence, the nearest approach to it being something of the consistency of porridge: see p. above. then take another order of ideas: the young man in both lake legends lives with his mother (pp. , ): there is no father to advise or protect him: he is in this respect on a level with undine, who is the protegee of her tiresome uncle, kühleborn. seemingly, he belongs to a primitive society where matriarchal ideas rule, and where paternity is not reckoned [ ]. this we are at liberty at all events to suppose to have been the original, before the narrator had painted the mother a widow, and given the picture other touches of his later brush. to speak, however, of paternity as merely not reckoned is by no means to go far enough; so here we have to return to take another look at the imaginary aspect of the fairies, to which a cursory allusion has just been made. the reader will possibly recall the sturdy smith of ystrad meurig, who would not reduce the notions which he had formed of the fairies when he was a child to conformity with those of a later generation around him. in any case, he will remember the smith's statement that the fairies were all women: see p. . the idea was already familiar to me as a welshman, though i cannot recollect how i got it. but the smith's words brought to my mind at once the story of condla rúad or the red, one of the fairy tales first recorded in irish literature (p. ). there the damsel who takes condla away in her boat of glass to the realm of the everliving sings the praises of that delectable country, and uses, among others, the following words, which occur in the book of the dun cow, fo. :-- ni fil cenel and nammá acht mná ocus ingena [ ]. there is no race there but women and maidens alone. now what people could have come by the idea of a race of women only? surely no people who considered that they themselves had fathers: it must have been some community so low in the scale of civilization as never to have had any notion whatsoever of paternity: it is their ignorance that would alone render possible the notion of a race all women. that this was a matter of belief in the past of many nations, is proved by the occurrence of widely known legends about virgin mothers [ ]; not to mention that it has been lately established, that there are savages who to this day occupy the low place here indicated in the scale of civilization. witness the evidence of spencer and gillen in their recently published work on the native tribes of central australia, and also what frazer, author of the golden bough, says of a passage in point, in the former, as follows:-- 'thus, in the opinion of these savages, every conception is what we are wont to call an immaculate conception, being brought about by the entrance into the mother of a spirit apart from any contact with the other sex. students of folklore have long been familiar with notions of this sort occurring in the stories of the birth of miraculous personages, but this is the first case on record of a tribe who believe in immaculate conception as the sole cause of the birth of every human being who comes into the world. a people so ignorant of the most elementary of natural processes may well rank at the very bottom of the savage scale [ ].' nevertheless, it is to some population in that low position, in the remote prehistory of this country, that one is to trace the belief that the fairies were all women. it is to be regarded as a position distinctly lower than that of the ultonians in the time of cúchulainn; for the couvade seems to me to argue a notion of paternity--perhaps, in their case, as clear a notion of paternity as was possible for a community which was not quite out of the promiscuous stage of society. the neo-celtic nations of these islands consist, speaking roughly, of a mixture of the invading celts with the earlier inhabitants whom the celts found in possession. these two or more groups of peoples may have been in very different stages of civilization when they first came in contact with one another. they agreed doubtless in many things, and perhaps, among others, in cherishing an inherited reluctance to disclose their names, but the celts as aryans were never without the decimal system of counting. like the french, the celtic nations of the present day show a tendency, more or less marked, to go further and count by scores instead of by tens. but the welsh are alone among them in having, in certain instances, gone back from counting by tens to counting by fives, which they do when they count between and : for , , , and are in welsh on , on , on , and on respectively; and similarly with and [ ]. we have seen how the lake fairy reckoned by fives (pp. , ) all the live stock she was to have as her dowry; and one otherwise notices that the fairies deal invariably in the simplest of numbers. thus if you wish, for example, to find a person who has been led away by them, ten to one you have to go 'this day next year' to the spot where he disappeared. except in the case of the alluring light of the full moon, it is out of the question to reckon months or weeks, though it is needless to say that to reckon the year correctly would have been in point of fact far more difficult; but nothing sounds simpler than 'this day next year.' in that simple arithmetic of the fairies, then, we seem to have a trace of a non-aryan race, that is to say, probably of some early inhabitants of these islands. unfortunately, the language of those inhabitants has died out, so that we cannot appeal to its numerals directly; and the next best course to adopt is to take as a sort of substitute for their language that of possible kinsmen of a pre-celtic race in this country. now the students of ethnology, especially those devoted to the investigation of skulls and skins, tell us that we have among us, notably in wales and ireland, living representatives of a dark-haired, long-skulled race of the same description as one of the types which occur, as they allege, among the basque populations of the pyrenees. we turn accordingly to basque, and what do we find? why, that the first five numerals in that language are bat, bi, iru, lau, bost, all of which appear to be native; but when we come to the sixth numeral we have sei, which looks like an aryan word borrowed from latin, gaulish, or some related tongue. the case is much the same with 'seven,' for that is in basque zazpi, which is also probably an aryan loan-word. basque has native words, zortzi and bederatzi, for eight and nine, but they are longer than the first five, and appear to be of a later formation affecting, in common with sei and zazpi, the termination i. i submit, therefore, that here we have evidence of the former existence of a people in the west of europe who at one time only counted as far as five. some of the early peoples of the british isles may have been on the same level, so that our notions about the fairies have probably been derived, to a greater or less extent, from ideas formed by the celts concerning those non-celtic, non-aryan natives of whose country they took possession. as regards my appeal to the authority of craniology, i have to confess that it is made with a certain amount of reservation, since the case is far less simple than it looks at first sight. thus, in august, , the cambrian archæological association, including among them professor sayce, visited the south-west of ireland. during our pleasant excursions in kerry, the question of race was one of our constant topics; and professor sayce was reminded by what he saw in ireland of his visit to north africa, especially the hilly regions of the country inhabited by the berbers. among other things, he used to say that if a number of berbers from the mountains were to be brought to an irish village and clad as irishmen, he felt positive that he should not be able to tell them from the irishmen themselves, such as we saw on our rambles in kerry. this struck me as all the more remarkable, since his reference was to fairly tall, blue-eyed men whose hair could not be called black. on the other hand, owing perhaps to ignorance and careless ways of looking at things around me, i am a little sceptical as to the swarthy long-skulls: they did not seem to meet us at every turn in ireland; and as for wales, which i know as well as most people do, i cannot in my ignorance of craniology say with any confidence that i have ever noticed vast numbers of that type. i should like, however, to see the heads of some of the singers whom i have noticed at our eistedfodau at cardiff, aberdare, and swansea, placed under the hands of an experienced skull-man. for i have long suspected that we cannot regard as of aryan origin the vocal talent so general in wales, and so conspicuous in our choirs of working people as to astonish all the great musicians who have visited our national festival. beyond all doubt, race has not a little to do with the artistic feelings: a short-skull may be as unmusical, for example, as i am; but has anybody in this country ever known a narrow long-skull to be the reverse of unmusical? or has any one ever considered how few clergymen of the tall, fair-haired, blue-eyed type have been converted to the ritualistic and æsthetic movement in the church of england? as it seems to me that the bulk of the welsh people would have to be described as short-skulls, it would be very gratifying to see those who are wont to refer freely to the dark-complexioned long-skulls of wales catch a respectable number of specimens. i trust there are plenty to be found; and of course i do not care how they are taken, whether it be by an instantaneous process of photography or in the meshes of some anthropometric sportsman, like dr. beddoe. let them be secured anyhow, so that one may rest assured that the type is still numerically safe, and be able to judge with one's own eyes how heads long and swarthy look on the shoulders of living welshmen. we might then be in a position also to compare with them the prevalent description of fairy changelings; for when the fairies steal nice, blond babies, they usually place in their stead their own aged-looking brats with short legs, sallow skins, and squeaky voices. unfortunately for me, all the adult changelings of whom i happen to have heard any account had died some years before i began to turn my attention to the population of faery, with the exception, perhaps, of one whose name i obtained under the seal of secrecy. it was that of the wife of a farmer living near nefyn, in west carnarvonshire. it was whispered that she was a changeling, so i am inclined to regard her as no other than one of the representatives of the same aboriginal stock to which one might conjecture some of her neighbours also to belong; she ought to be an extreme specimen of the type. it is to be hoped that the photographer and his anthropometric brother have found her out in time and in good humour; but it is now many years since i heard of her. to return again to the fairies, some of them are described as more comely and good-looking than the rest (pp. , ), but the fairy women are always pictured as fascinating, though their offspring as changelings are as uniformly presented in the light of repulsive urchins; but whole groups of the fairy population are sometimes described as being as ugly of face as they were thievish in disposition--those, for instance, of llanfabon, in glamorganshire (p. ). there is one district, however, which is an exception to the tenor of fairy physiognomy: it is that of the pennant neighbourhood, in carnarvonshire, together with the hills and valleys, roughly speaking, from cwm strallyn to llwytmor and from drws y coed to dolbenmaen. the fairies of that tract are said to have been taller than the others, and characterized by light or even flaxen hair, together with eyes of clear blue: see pp. , - , - . nor is that all, for we are told that they would not let a person of dark complexion come near them (p. ). the other fairies, when kidnapping, it is true, preferred the blond infants of other people to their own swarthy brats, which, perhaps, means that it was a policy of their people to recruit itself with men of the superior physique of the more powerful population around them. the supposed fairy ancestress of the people of the pennant valley bears, in the stories in point, such names as penelope, bella, pelisha, and sibi, while her descendants are still taunted with their descent--a quarrel which, within living memory, used to be fought out with fists at the fairs at penmorfa and elsewhere. this seems to indicate a comparatively late settlement [ ] in the district of a family or group of families from without, and an origin, therefore, somewhat similar to that of the simychiaid and cowperiaid (p. ) of a more eastern portion of the same county, rather than anything deserving to be considered with the rest of the annals of faery. passing by this oasis, then, such snap-shot photographs as i have been able to take, so to speak, of fairyland cleared of the glamour resting on its landscape, seem to disclose to the eye a swarthy population of short stumpy men occupying the most inaccessible districts of our country. they appear to have cared more for soap than clothing [ ], and they lived on milk taken once a day, when they could get it. they probably fished and hunted, and kept domestic animals, including, perhaps, the pig; but they depended largely on what they could steal at night or in misty weather. their thieving, however, was not resented, as their visits were believed to bring luck and prosperity (p. ). their communities formed as it were islands, owing to the country round about them having been wrested from them by later comers of a more warlike disposition and provided with better weapons. but the existence of the scattered groups of the fairies was in no danger of coming to a violent end: they were safe in consequence of the superstitious beliefs of their stronger neighbours, who probably regarded them as formidable magicians, powerful, among other things, to cause or to cure disease as they pleased. such, without venturing to refresh my memory by perusing what has been written about dwarf races in other parts of the world, are the impressions made on my mind in the course of analysing and sifting the folklore materials crowded into this volume. that applies, of course, in so far only as regards the fairies in their character of a real people as distinguished from them as creatures of the imagination. but, as i have no wish to earn the displeasure of my literary friends, let me hasten to say that i acknowledge the latter, the creatures of the imagination, to be the true fairies, the admiration of one's childhood and the despair of one's later years: the other folk--the aborigines whom i have been trying to depict--form only a sort of substratum, a kind of background to the fairy picture, which i should be the last man to wish to mar. it is needless to say that we have no trace of any fairies approaching the minute dimensions of shakespeare's queen mab; for, after all, our fairies are mostly represented as not extravagantly unlike other people in personal appearance--not so unlike, in fact, that other folk might not be mistaken for them now and then as late as the latter part of the fifteenth century. witness the following passage from sir john wynne's history of the gwydir family, p. :-- 'haveing purchased this lease, he removed his dwelling to the castle of dolwydelan, which at that time was in part thereof habitable, where one howell ap jevan ap rys gethin, in the beginning of edward the fourth his raigne, captaine of the countrey and an outlaw, had dwelt. against this man david ap jenkin rose, and contended with him for the sovreignety of the countrey; and being superiour to him, in the end he drew a draught for him, and took him in his bed at penanmen with his concubine, performing by craft, what he could not by force, and brought him to conway castle. thus, after many bickerings betweene howell and david ap jenkin, he being too weake, was faigne to flie the countrey, and to goe to ireland, where he was a yeare or thereabouts. in the end he returned in the summer time, haveing himselfe, and all his followers clad in greene, who, being come into the countrey, he dispersed here and there among his friends, lurking by day, and walkeing in the night for feare of his adversaries; and such of the countrey as happened to have a sight of him and his followers, said they were the fairies, and soe ran away.' but what has doubtless helped, above all other things, to perpetuate the belief in the existence of fairies may be said to be the popular association with them of the circles in the grass, commonly known in english as fairy rings. this phenomenon must have answered for ages the purpose for our ancestors, practically speaking, of ocular demonstration, as it still does no doubt in many a rustic neighbourhood. the most common name for the fairies in welsh is y tylwyth teg, 'the fair or beautiful family'; but in south cardiganshire we have found them called plant rhys dwfn, 'the children of rhys the deep' (pp. , ), while in gwent and morgannwg they are more usually known as bendith y mamau, 'the blessing of the mothers' (p. ). our fourteenth century poet, d. ab gwilym, uses the first-mentioned term, tylwyth teg, in poem xxxix, and our prose literature has a word corr, cor in the sense of a dwarf, and corres for a she dwarf. the old cornish had also cor, which in breton is written korr [ ], with a feminine korrez, and among the other derivatives one finds korrik, 'a dwarf, a fairy, a wee little sorcerer,' and korrigez or korrigan, 'a she dwarf, a fairy woman, a diminutive sorceress.' the use of these words in breton recalls the case of the cor, called rhudlwm or else eidilig, teaching his magic to coll, son of collfrewi: see pp. , , . then we have uncanny dwarfs in the romances, such, for example, as the rude cor in the service of edern ab nud, as described in french in chrétien's romance of erec et enide and in welsh in that of gereint vab erbin, also the cor and corres who figure in the story of peredur. the latter had belonged to that hero's father and mother till the break-up of the family, when the dwarfs went to arthur's court, where they lived a whole year without speaking to anybody. when, however, peredur made his rustic appearance there, they hailed him loudly as the chief of warriors and the flower of knighthood, which brought on them the wrath of cai, on whom they were eventually avenged by peredur. in the case [ ] of both edern and peredur we find the dwarfs loyally interested in the fortunes of their masters and their masters' friends. with them also the shape-shifting menw, though not found placed in the same unfavourable light, is probably to be ranged, as one may gather from his name and his rôle of wizard scout for arthur's men (p. ). in the like attachment on the part of the fairies, which was at times liable to develop into devotedness of an embarrassing nature (p. ), we seem to have one of the germs of the idea of a household fairy or banshee, as illustrated by the case of the ugly wee woman in the pantannas legend (p. ); and it seems natural to regard the interested voices in the kenfig legend, and other stories of the same kind (p. ), as instances of amalgamating the idea of a fairy with that of an ancestral person. at all events, we have obtained something to put by the side of the instances already noticed of the fairy girl who gives, against her will at first, her services in the dairy of her captor (pp. , ); of the other fairy who acts as a nurse for a family in the pennant valley, till she is asked to dress better (p. ); and of bwca'r trwyn who works willingly and well, both at the house and in the field, till he has tricks played on him (pp. - ). to make this brief survey complete, one has to mention the fairies who used to help eilian with her spinning (pp. - ), and not to omit those who were found to come to the rescue of a woman in despair and to assist her on the condition of getting her baby. the motive here is probably not to be confounded with that of the fairies who stealthily exchanged babies: the explanation seems in this case to be that the fairies, or some of the fairies, were once regarded as cannibals, which is countenanced by such a story as that of canrig bwt, 'canrig the stumpy.' at llanberis the latter is said to have lived beneath the huge stone called y gromlech, 'the dolmen,' opposite cwmglas and near the high-road to the pass. when the man destined to dispatch her came, she was just finishing her dinner off a baby's flesh. there are traces of a similar story in another district, for a writer who published in the year uses the following words:--'there was lately near cerrig y drudion, in merionethshire, a subterraneous room composed of large stones, which was called carchar cynric rwth, i. e. "the prison of cynric rwth," which has been taken notice of by travellers.' cynric rwth may be rendered 'cynric the greedy or broad-mouthed.' a somewhat similar ogress is located by another story on the high ground at bwlch y rhiw felen, on the way from llangollen to llandegla, and she is represented by the local tradition as contemporary with arthur [ ]. i am inclined to think the cwmglas cromlech natural rather than artificial; but i am, however, struck by the fact that the fairies are not unfrequently located on or near ancient sites, such as seem to be corwrion (pp. , ), the margin of llyn irdyn (pp. , ), bryn y pibion (pp. - ), dinllaen (p. ), carn bodüan (p. ), on which there are, i am told, walls and hut foundations similar to those which i have recently seen on carn fadrun in the same district, moedin camp (p. ), and, perhaps, ynys geinon rock and the immediate vicinity of craig y nos, neither of which, however, have i ever visited (p. ). local acquaintance with each fairy centre would very possibly enable one to produce a list that would be suggestive. in passing one may point out that the uncanny dwarf of celtic story would seem to have served, in one way or another, as a model for other dwarfs in the french romances and the literatures of other nations that came under the influence of those romances, such as that of the english. but the subject is too large to be dealt with here; so i return to the word cor, in order to recall to the reader's mind the allusion made, at p. , to a certain people called coranneit or coranyeit, pronounced in later welsh corániaid, 'corannians.' they come in the adventure of llûd and llevelys, and there they have ascribed to them one of the characteristics of consummate magicians, namely, the power of hearing any word that comes in contact with the wind; so it was, we are told, impossible to harm them. llûd, however, was advised to circumvent them in the following manner:--he was to bruise certain insects in water and sprinkle the water on the corannians and his own people indiscriminately, after calling them together under the pretence of making peace between them; for the sprinkling would do no harm to his own subjects, while it would kill the others. this unholy water proved effective, and the corannians all perished. now the magic power ascribed to them, and the method of disposing of them, combine to lend them a fabulous aspect, while their name, inseparable as it seems from cor, 'a dwarf,' warrants us in treating them as fairies, and in regarding their strange characteristics as induced on a real people. if we take this view, that coraniaid was the name of a real people, we are at liberty to regard it as possible, that their name suggested to the celts the word cor for a dwarf, rather than that cor has suggested the name of the corannians. in either case, i may mention that welsh writers have sometimes thought--and they are probably right--that we have a closely related word in the name of ptolemy's coritani or coritavi. he represents the people so called as dwelling, roughly speaking, between the trent and norfolk, and possessed of the two towns of lindum, 'lincoln,' and ratæ (p. ), supposed to have been leicester. there we should have accordingly to suppose the old race to have survived so long and in such numbers, that the celtic lords of southern britain called the people of that area by a name meaning dwarfs. there also they may be conjectured to have had quiet from invaders from the continent, because of the inaccessible nature of the fens, and the lack of inviting harbours on the coast from the country of the iceni up to the neighbourhood of the humber. how far their territory extended inland from the fens and the sea one cannot say, but it possibly took in one-half of what is now northamptonshire, with the place called pytchley, from an older pihtes léa, meaning the meadow of the pict, or else of a man named pict. in any case it included croyland in the fens between peterborough and the wash. it was there, towards the end of the seventh century, that st. guthlac built his cell on the side of an ancient mound or tumulus, and it was there he was assailed by demons who spoke bryttisc or brythonic, a language which the saint knew, as he had been an exile among brythons. for this he had probably not to travel far; and it is remarkable that his father's cognomen or surname was penwall, which we may regard as approximately the brythonic for 'wall's end.' that is to say, he was 'so-and-so of the wall's end,' and had got to be known by the latter designation instead of his own nomen, which is not recorded, for the reason, possibly, that it was so brythonic as not to admit of being readily reduced into an anglian or latin form. it is not quite certain that he belonged to the royal race of mercia, whose genealogy, however, boasts such un-english names as pybba, penda, and peada; but the life [ ] states, with no little emphasis, that he was a man whose pedigree included the most noble names of illustrious kings from the ancient stock of icel: that is, he was one of the iclingas or icklings [ ]. here one is tempted to perpetrate a little glottologic alchemy by changing l into n, and to suppose iclingas the form taken in english by the name of the ancient people of the iceni. in any case, nothing could be more reasonable to suppose than that some representatives of the royal race of prasutagus and boudicca, escaping the sword of the roman, found refuge among the coritanians at the time of the final defeat of their own people: it is even possible that they were already the ruling family there. at all events several indications converge to show that communities speaking brythonic were not far off, to wit, the p names in the mercian genealogy, guthlac's father's surname, guthlac's exile among brythons, and the attack on him at croyland by brythonic speaking foes. portions of the coritanian territory were eminently fitted by nature to serve as a refuge for a broken people with a belated language: witness as late as the eleventh century the stand made in the isle of ely by hereward against the norman conqueror and his mail-clad knights [ ]. among the speakers of goidelic in ireland and the highlands of scotland the fairies take their designation chiefly from a word síd or síth (genitive síde or sída), which one may possibly consider as of a common origin with the latin word sedes, and as originally meaning a seat or settlement, but it sooner or later came to signify simply an abode of the fairies, whence they were called in medieval irish aes síde, 'fairy folk,' fer síde, 'a fairy man,' and ben síde, 'a fairy woman or banshee.' by the side of síd, an adjective síde, 'of or belonging to the síd,' appears to have been formed, so that they are found also called simply síde, as in fiacc's hymn, where we are told that before the advent of st. patrick the pagan tribes of erin used to worship síde or fairies [ ]. borrowed from this, or suggested by it [ ], we have in welsh caer sidi, 'the fortress of the fairies,' which is mentioned twice in the book of taliessin [ ]. it first occurs at the end of poem xiv, where we have the following lines, which recall irish descriptions of tír na nÓg or the land of the young:-- ys kyweir vyg kadeir ygkaer sidi. nys pla d heint a heneint a uo yndi. ys gwyr mana yt a phryderi. teir oryan y am tan agan recdi. ac am y banneu ffrydyeu g eilgi. ar ffynnha n ffr ythla n yssyd oduchti. ys whegach nor g in g yn yllyn yndi. perfect is my seat in the fort of sidi, nor pest nor age plagues him who dwells therein: manawydan and pryderi know it. three organs play before it about a fire. around its corners ocean's currents flow, and above it is the fertile fountain, and sweeter than white wine is the drink therein. the wine is elsewhere mentioned, but the arrangement of the organs around a fire requires explanation, which i cannot give. the fortress is on an island, and in poem xxx of the book of taliessin we read of arthur and his men sailing thither in his ship prydwen: the poem is usually called the 'spoils of annwn,' and the lines in point run thus:-- bu kyweir karchar g eir ygkaer sidi. tr y ebostol p yll aphryderi. neb kyn noc ef nyt aeth idi. yr gad yn tromlas kywirwas ae ketwi. arac preideu ann fyn tost yt geni. ac yt ura t paraha t ynbard wedi. tri lloneit prytwen yd aetham ni idi. nam seith ny dyrreith o gaer sidi. perfect was the prison of gwair in caer sidi, thanks to pwyll and pryderi's emissary. before him no one entered into it, to the heavy, dark chain held by a faithful youth; and before the spoils of annwn sorely he sang, and thenceforth remains he till doom a bard. three freights of prydwen went we thither, but only seven returned from caer sidi. the incidents in these lines are mostly unintelligible to me, but the incarceration of gweir or gwair, together with other imprisonments, including that of arthur in caer oeth and anoeth (p. ), are mentioned also in the triads: see i. , ii. , , iii. . it is not improbable that the legend about gwair located his prison on lundy, as the welsh name of that island appears to have been ynys wair, 'gwair's isle.' pwyll and pryderi did not belong to annwn, nor did pryderi's friend manawydan; but the mabinogi of pwyll relates how for a whole year pwyll exchanged crown and kingdom with arawn king of annwn, from whom he obtained the first breed of domestic pigs for his own people (pp. , ). in the lowlands of scotland, together with the orkneys and shetlands, the picts have to a certain extent taken the place of our fairies, and they are colloquially called pechts. now judging from the remains there ascribed to the pechts, their habitations were either wholly underground or else so covered over with stones and earth and grass as to look like natural hillocks and to avoid attracting the attention of strangers. this was helped by making the entrance very low and as inconspicuous as possible. but one of the most remarkable things about these síds is that the cells within them are frequently so small as to prove beyond doubt, that those who inhabited them were of a remarkably short stature, though it is demonstrated by the weight of the stones used, that the builders were not at all lacking in bodily strength [ ]. here we have, accordingly, a small people like our own fairies. in ireland one of the most famous kings of the fairies was called mider of brí léith, where he resided in a síd or mound in the neighbourhood of ardagh, in the county of longford; and thither irish legend represents him carrying away Étain, queen of eochaid airem, king of ireland during a part of conchobar macnessa's time. now eochaid was for a whole year unable to find where she was, but his druid, dalán, wrote ogams and at last found it out. eochaid then marched to brí léith, and began to demolish mider's síd, whereupon mider was eventually so frightened that he sent forth the queen to her husband, who then went his way, leaving the mound folk to digest their wrath. for it is characteristic of them that they did not fight, but chose to bide their time for revenge. in this instance it did not arrive till long after eochaid's day [ ]. i may add that Étain was herself one of the síde or fairies; and one of mider's reasons for taking her away was, that she had been his wife in a previous stage of existence. now it is true that the fairy mider is described as resembling the other heroes of irish story, in having golden yellow hair and bright blue eyes [ ], but he differs completely from them in being no warrior but a great wizard; and though he is not said to have been of small stature, the dwarfs were not far off. for in describing the poet atherne, who was notorious for his stinginess (p. ), the story-teller emphasizes his words by representing him taking from mider three of his dwarfs and stationing them around his own house, in order that their truculent looks and rude words might drive away anybody who came to seek hospitality or to present an unwelcome request [ ], a rôle which recalls that of edern ab nud's dwarf already mentioned (p. ). here the irish word used is corr, which is probably to be identified with the brythonic cor, 'a dwarf,' though the better known meaning of corr in irish is 'crane or heron.' from the former also is hardly to be severed the irish corrguinigh, 'sorcerers,' and corrguinacht [ ], or the process of cursing to which the corrguinigh resorted, as, for instance, when néde called forth the fatal blisters on caier's face (p. ). the rôle would seem exactly to suit the little people, who were consummate magicians. let me for a moment leave the little people, in order to call attention to another side of this question of race. it has recently been shown [ ] by professor j. morris jones, of the university college of north wales, that the non-aryan traits of the syntax of our insular celtic point unmistakably to that of old egyptian and berber, together with kindred idioms belonging to the southern shore of the mediterranean sea. he has thereby reduced to articulate speech, so to say, the physiognomical convictions of professor sayce (p. ), to which the reader's attention has been called. to the linguistic argument he appends a statement cited from a french authority and bearing on the question of descent by birth, to the effect, that when among the berbers the king dies or is deposed, as happens often enough, it is not his son that is called to succeed, but the son of his sister, as in the case of the historical picts of scotland down to the twelfth century or thereabouts. here i would add, that my attention has been called by professor sayce to old egyptian monuments representing the libyan chiefs with their bodies tattooed, a habit which seems not to be yet extinct among the touaregs and kabyles [ ]. lastly, mr. nicholson has recently directed attention to the fact that some princes of ancient gaul are represented with their faces tattooed on certain coins found in the west of france so far south as the region once occupied by the ancient pictones. we have a compendious commentary on this in the occurrence of a word chortonicum in a high german manuscript written before the year : i allude to the wessobrunn codex at munich, in which, among a number of geographical names connected with gaul and other countries, that vocable is so placed as to allow of our referring it to poitou or to all gaul as the country once of the ancient pictones. the great german philologist pott, who called attention to it, brought it at once into relation with cruithne, plural cruithni, 'the picts of britain and ireland,' a word which has been explained at p. above [ ]. now at last i come to the question, what pre-celtic race or races make themselves evident in the mass of things touched on in this and the foregoing chapters? the answer must, i think, recognize at least two. first comes the race of the mound folk, consisting of the short swarthy people variously caricatured in our fairy tales. they formed isolated fractions of a widely spread race possessed of no political significance whatsoever; but, with the inconsistency ever clinging to everything connected with the fairies, the weird and uncanny folk emerging from its underground lairs seems to have exercised on other races a sort of permanent spell of mysteriousness amounting to adoration. in fact, irish literature tells us that the síde were worshipped (p. ). owing to his faculty of exaggeration, combined with his inability to comprehend the little people, the celt was enabled to bequeath to the great literatures of western europe a motley train of dwarfs and brownies, a whole world of wizardry and magic. the real race of the little people forms the lowest stratum which we can reach, to wit, at a level no higher, seemingly, than that of the present-day natives of central australia. thus some of the birth stories of cúchulainn and Étáin seem to have passed through their hands, and they bear a striking resemblance to certain notions of the lapps (pp. - ). in fact, the nature of the habitations of our little people, together with other points which might be mentioned, would seem at first sight to betoken affinity with the lapps; but i am warned by experts [ ] that there are serious craniological difficulties in the way of any racial comparison with the lapps, and that one must look rather to the dwarf populations once widely spread over our hemisphere, and still to be found here and there in europe, as, for example, in sicily. to come nearer our british isles, the presence of such dwarfs has been established with regard to switzerland in neolithic times [ ]. the other race may be called picts, which is probably the earliest of the names given it by the celts; and their affinities appear to be libyan, possibly iberian. it was a warlike stock, and stood higher altogether than the mound inhabitants; for it had a notion of paternity, though, on account of its promiscuity, it had to reckon descent by birth (pp. - ). to it probably belonged all the great family groups figuring in the mabinogion and the corresponding class of literature in irish: this would include the danann-dôn group and the lir-llyr group, together with the families represented by pwyll and rhiannon, who were inseparable from the llyr group in welsh, just as the lir group was inseparable from the tuatha dé danann in irish legend (pp. - ). the picts made slaves and drudges of the mound-haunting race, but how far any amalgamation may have taken place between them it is impossible to say. even without any amalgamation, however, the little people, if employed as nurses to their pictish lords' children, could not help leaving their impress in time on the language of the ruling nationality. but it may be that the treatment of the picts, by scottish legend, as a kind of fairies really points to amalgamation, though it is not impossible that archæology may be able to classify the remains of the dwellings ascribed to the pechts, that is, to assign a certain class to the warlike picts of history and another to the dwarf race of the síds. a certain measure of amalgamation may also be the meaning of the irish tradition, that when the milesian irish came and conquered, the defeated tuatha dé danann gave up their life above ground and retired inside the hills like the fairies. this account of them may be as worthless as the story of the extermination of the picts of scotland: both peoples doubtless lived on to amalgamate in time with the conquering race; but it may mean that some of them retreated before the celts, and concealed themselves after the manner of the little people--in underground dwellings in the less accessible parts of the country. in any case, it may well be that they got their magic and druidism from the dwellers of the síds. in the next place, it has been pointed out (pp. - ) how the adjective hên, 'old, ancient,' is applied in welsh to several of the chief men of the dôn group, and by this one may probably understand that they were old not merely to those who told the stories about them in welsh, but to those who put those stories together in goidelic ages earlier. the geography of the mabinogion gives the prehistoric remains of penmaen mawr and tre'r ceiri to the dôn group; but by its name, tre'r ceiri should be the 'town of the keiri,' a word probably referring to the picts (pp. - ): this, so far as it goes, makes the sons of dôn belong by race to the picts. lastly, it is the widely spread race of the picts, conquered by the celts of the celtican or goidelic branch and amalgamating with their conquerors in the course of time, that has left its non-aryan impress on the syntax of the celtic languages of the british isles. these, it is needless to say, are conjectures which i cannot establish; but possibly somebody else may. for the present, however, they cannot fail to suggest a moral, habitually ignored with a light heart by most people--including the writer of these words--that men in his plight, men engaged in studies which, owing to a rapid accumulation of fresh facts or the blossoming of new theories, are in a shifting condition, should abstain from producing books or anything longer than a magazine article now and then. even such minor productions should be understood to be liable to be cast into a great bonfire lit once a year, say on halloween. this should help to clear the air of mistaken hypotheses, whether of folklore and myth or of history and language, and also serve to mark nos calangaeaf as the commencement of the ancient celtic year. the business of selecting the papers to be saved from the burning might be delegated to an academy constituted, roughly speaking, on the lines of plato's aristocracy of intellect. such academy, once in the enjoyment of its existence, would also find plenty of work in addition to the inquisitional business which i have suggested: it should, for example, be invested with summary jurisdiction over fond parents who venture to show any unreasonable anxiety to save their mental progeny from the annual bonfire. the best of that class of writers should be ordered by the academy to sing songs or indite original verse. as for the rest, some of them might be told off to gesticulate to the gallery, and some to administer the consolations of platitude to stragglers tired of the march of science. there is a mass of other useful work which would naturally devolve on an academy of the kind here suggested. i should be happy, if space permitted, to go through the particulars one by one, but let a single instance suffice: the academy might relieve us of the painful necessity of having seriously to consider any further the proposal that professors found professing after sixty should be shot. this will serve to indicate the kind of work which might advantageously be entrusted to the august body which is here but roughly projected. there are some branches of learning in the happy position of having no occasion for such a body academical. thus, if a man will have it that the earth is flat, as flat in fact as some people do their utmost to make it, 'he will most likely,' as the late mr. freeman in the saturday review once put it, 'make few converts, and will be forgotten after at most a passing laugh from scientific men.' if a man insists that the sum of two and two is five, he will probably find his way to a lunatic asylum, as the economy of society is, in a manner, self-acting. so with regard to him who carries his craze into the more material departments of such a science as chemistry: he may be expected to blow out his own eyes, for the almighty molecule executes its own vengeance. 'but,' to quote again from mr. freeman, if that man's 'craze had been historical or philological'--and above all if it had to do with the science of man or of myth--'he might have put forth notions quite as absurd as the notion that the earth is flat, and many people would not have been in the least able to see that they were absurd. if any scholar had tried to confute him we should have heard of "controversies" and "differences of opinion."' in fact, the worst that happens to the false prophet who shines in any such a science is, that he has usually only too many enthusiastic followers. the machinery is, so to say, not automatic, and hence it is that we want the help of an academy. but even supposing such an academy established, no one need feel alarmed lest opportunities enough could no longer be found for cultivating the example of those of the early christians who had the rare grace to suffer fools gladly. personally, however, i should be against doing anything in a hurry; and, considering how little his fellows dare expect from the man who is just waiting to be final and perfect before he commit himself to type, the establishment of an academy invested with the summary powers which have been briefly sketched might, perhaps, after all, conveniently wait a while: my own feeling is that almost any time, say in the latter half of the twentieth century, would do better than this year or the next. in the meantime one must be content to entrust the fortunes of our studies to the combined forces of science and common sense. judging by what they have achieved in recent years, there is no reason to be uneasy with regard to the time to come, for it is as true to-day as when it was first written, that the best of the prophets of the future is the past. additions and corrections p. . i learn that the plural of bodach glas was in welsh bodachod gleision, a term which elis o'r nant remembers his mother applying to a kind of fairies dressed in blue and fond of leading people astray. she used to relate how a haymaking party once passed a summer's night at the cowhouse (beudy) of bryn bygelyd (also bryn mygelyd), and how they saw in the dead of night a host of these dwarfs (corynnod) in blue dancing and capering about the place. the beudy in question is not very far from dolwydelan, on the way to capel curig. a different picture of the bodach is given in jenkins' bed gelert, p. ; and lastly one may contrast the highland bodach glas mentioned at p. above, not to mention still another kind, namely the one in scott's waverley. p. . to sarn yr afanc add llyn yr afanc, near llandinam (beauties of wales, n. wales, p. ), and bed yr afanc, 'the afanc's grave,' the name of some sort of a tumulus, i am told, on a knoll near the pembrokeshire stream of the nevern. mr. j. thomas, of bancau bryn berian close by, has communicated to me certain echoes of a story how an afanc was caught in a pool near the bridge of bryn berian, and how it was taken up to be interred in what is now regarded as its grave. a complete list of the afanc place-names in the principality might possibly prove instructive. as to the word afanc, what seems to have happened is this: ( ) from meaning simply a dwarf it came to be associated with such water dwarfs as those mentioned at p. ; ( ) the meaning being forgotten, the word was applied to any water monster; and ( ) where afanc occurs in place-names the hu story has been introduced to explain it, whether it fitted or not. this i should fancy to be the case with the bryn berian barrow, and it would be satisfactory to know whether it contains the remains of an ordinary dwarf. peredur's lake afanc may have been a dwarf; but whether that was so or not, it is remarkable that the weapon which the afanc handled was a llechwaew or flake-spear, that is, a missile tipped with stone. p. . with the rôle of the girl in the afanc story compare that of tegau, wife of caradog freichfras, on whom a serpent fastens and can only be allured away to seize on one of tegau's breasts, of which she loses the nipple when the beast is cut off. the defect being replaced with gold, she is ever after known as tegau eur-fron, or 'tegau of the golden breast.' that is a version inferred of a story which is discussed by m. gaston paris in an article, on caradoc et le serpent, elicited by a paper published (in the november number of modern language notes for ) by miss c. a. harper, of bryn mawr college, u.s.: see the romania, xxviii. - . one of miss harper's parallels, mentioned by m. paris at p. , comes from campbell: it is concerning a prince who receives from his stepmother a magic shirt which converts itself into a serpent coiled round his neck, and of which he is rid by the help of a woman acting in much the same way as tegau. we have an echo of this in the pedigrees in the jesus college ms. : see the cymmrodor, viii. , where one reads of g ga n keneu menrud a vu neidyr vl ydyn am y von gyl, 'gwgon the whelp of menrud (?) who was a year with a snake round his neck'--his pedigree is also given. in m. paris' suggested reconstruction of the story (p. ) from the different versions, he represents the maiden who is to induce the serpent to leave the man on whom it has fastened, as standing in a vessel filled with milk, while the man stands in a vessel filled with vinegar. the heroine exposes herself to the reptile, which relinquishes his present victim to seize on one of the woman's breasts. now the appropriateness of the milk is explained by the belief that snakes are inordinately fond of milk, and that belief has, i presume, a foundation in fact: at any rate i am reminded of its introduction into the plot of more than one english story, such as stanley weyman's book from the memoirs of a minister of france (london, ), p. , and a. conan doyle's adventures of sherlock holmes (london, ), pp. - . in wales, however, it is to a woman's milk that one's interest attaches: i submit two references which will explain what i mean. the first of them is to owen's welsh folk-lore, p. , where he says that 'traditions of flying snakes were once common in all parts of wales,' and adds as follows:--'the traditional origin of these imaginary creatures was that they were snakes, which by having drunk the milk of a woman, and by having eaten of bread consecrated for the holy communion, became transformed into winged serpents or dragons.' the other is to the brython for , p. , where one reads in welsh to the following effect:--'if a snake chances to have an opportunity to drink of a woman's milk it is certain to become a gwiber. when a woman happens to be far from her child, and her breasts are full and beginning to give her pain, she sometimes milks them on the ground in order to ease them. to this the peasantry in parts of cardiganshire have a strong objection, lest a snake should come there and drink the milk, and so become a gwiber.' the word gwiber is used in the welsh bible for a viper, but the editor of the brython explains, that in our folklore it means a huge kind of snake or dragon that has grown wings and has its body cased in hard scales: for a noted instance in point he refers the reader to the first number of the brython, p. . it is believed still all over wales that snakes may, under favourable circumstances, develop wings: in fact, an anglesey man strongly wished, to my knowledge, to offer to the recent welsh land commission, as evidence of the wild and neglected state of a certain farm, that the gorse had grown so high and the snakes so thriven in it that he had actually seen one of the latter flying right across a wide road which separated two such gorse forests as he described: surprised and hurt to find that this was not accepted, he inferred that the commissioners knew next to nothing about their business. pp. , . with 'the spell of security' by catching hold of grass may perhaps be compared a habit which boys in cardiganshire have of suddenly picking up a blade of grass when they want a truce or stoppage in a sort of game of tig or touchwood. the grass gives the one who avails himself of it immunity for a time from attack or pursuit, so as to allow him to begin the game again just where it was left off. p. . bodermud would probably be more correctly written bodermyd, and analysed possibly into bod-dermyd, involving the name which appears in irish as diarmait and dermot. p. . since this was printed i have been assured by mr. thomas prichard of llwydiarth esgob, in anglesey, that the dolur byr is more commonly called clwy' byr, and that it is the disease known in english as 'black quarter.' pp. , . i am assured on the part of several literary natives of glamorgan that they do not know dâr for daear, 'ground, earth.' such negative evidence, though proving the literary form daear to prevail now, is not to be opposed to the positive statement, sent by mr. hughes (p. ) to me, as to the persistence in his neighbourhood of dâr and clâr (for claear, 'lukewarm'), to which one may add, as unlikely to be challenged by anybody, the case of harn for haearn, 'iron.' the intermediate forms have to be represented as daer, claer, and haern, which explain exactly the gaem of the book of st. chad, for which modern literary welsh has gaeaf, 'winter': see the preface to the book of llan dâv, p. xlv. p. . it ought to have been pointed out that the fairies, whose food and drink it is death to share, represent the dead. p. . for conla read connla or condla: the later form is colla. the condla in question is called condla rúad in the story, but the heading to it has ectra condla chaim, 'the adventure of c. the dear one.' p. . i am now inclined to think that butch was produced out of the northern pronunciation of witch by regarding its w as a mutation consonant and replacing it, as in some other instances, by b as the radical. p. . with the manx use of rowan on may-day compare a passage to the following effect concerning wales--i translate it from the faulty welsh in which it is quoted by one of the competitors for the folklore prize at the liverpool eistedfod, : he gave no indication of its provenance:--another bad papistic habit which prevails among some welsh people is that of placing some of the wood of the rowan tree (coed cerdin or criafol) in their corn lands (llafyrieu) and their fields on may-eve (nos glamau) with the idea that such a custom brings a blessing on their fields, a proceeding which would better become atheists and pagans than christians. p. . in the comparison with the brownie the fairy nurse in the pennant valley has been overlooked: see p. . p. , line . for i. - read ii. - . pp. , . with the story of ffynnon gywer and the other fairy wells, also with the wells which have been more especially called sacred in this volume, compare the following paragraph from martin's description of the western islands of scotland (london, ), pp. - : it is concerning gigay, now more commonly written gigha, the name of an island near the west coast of kintyre:--'there is a well in the north end of this isle called toubir-more, i. e. a great well, because of its effects, for which it is famous among the islanders; who together with the inhabitants use it as a catholicon for diseases. it's covered with stone and clay, because the natives fancy that the stream that flows from it might overflow the isle; and it is always opened by a diroch, i. e. an inmate, else they think it would not exert its vertues. they ascribe one very extraordinary effect to it, and 'tis this; that when any foreign boats are wind-bound here (which often happens) the master of the boat ordinarily gives the native that lets the water run a piece of money, and they say that immediately afterwards the wind changes in favour of those that are thus detain'd by contrary winds. every stranger that goes to drink of the water of this well, is accustomed to leave on its stone cover a piece of money, a needle, pin, or one of the prettiest variegated stones they can find.' last september i visited gigha and saw a well there which is supposed to be the one to which martin refers. it is very insignificant and known now by a name pronounced tobar a veac, possibly for an older mo-bheac: in scotch gaelic bëac, written beathag, is equated with the name sophia. the only tradition now current about the well is that emptying it used to prove the means of raising a wind or even of producing great storms, and this appears to have been told pennant: see his tour in scotland and voyage to the hebrides, mdcclxxii (chester, ), p. :--'visit the few wonders of the isle: the first is a little well of a most miraculous quality, for in old times, if ever the chieftain lay here wind-bound, he had nothing more to do than cause the well to be cleared, and instantly a favorable gale arose. but miracles are now ceased.' p. . a similar rhyme is current in the neighbourhood of dolgelley, as miss lucy griffith informs me, as follows:-- dolgelle dol a gollir, daear a'i llwnc, dw'r 'n 'i lle. dolgelley, a dale to be lost; earth will swallow it, and water take its place. p. . with regard to wells killing women visiting them, i may mention a story, told me the other day by professor mahaffy after a friend whose name he gave, concerning the inhabitants of one of the small islands on the coast of mayo--i understood him to say off the mullet. it was this: all the men and boys, having gone fishing, were prevented by rough weather from returning as soon as they intended, and the women left alone suffered greatly from want of water, as not one of them would venture to go to the well. by-and-by, however, one of them gave birth to a boy, whereupon another of them carried the baby to the well, and ventured to draw water. p. . as to clychau aberdyfi i am now convinced that the chwech and saith are entirely due to the published versions, the editors of which seem to have agreed that they will have as much as possible for their money, so to say. i find that mrs. rhys learnt in her childhood to end the words with pump, and that she cannot now be brought to sing the melody in any other way: i have similar testimony from a musical lady from the neighbourhood of wrexham; and, doubtless, more evidence of the same sort could be got. p. . for llywelyn ab gruffyd read llywelyn ab iorwerth. pp. - . some additional light on the doggerel dialogue will be found thrown by the following story, which i find cited in welsh by one of the liverpool eistedfod competitors:--there is in the parish of yspytty ifan, in carnarvonshire, a farm called trwyn swch, where eighty years ago lived a man and his wife, who were both young, and had twins born to them. now the mother went one day to milk, leaving the twins alone in the cradle--the husband was not at home--and who should enter the house but one of the tylwyth teg! he took the twins away and left two of his own breed in the cradle in their stead. thereupon the mother returned home and saw what had come to pass; she then in her excitement snatched the tylwyth teg twins and took them to the bridge that crosses the huge gorge of the river conwy not very far from the house, and she cast them into the whirlpool below. by this time the tylwyth teg had come on the spot, some trying to save the children, and some making for the woman. 'seize the old hag!' (crap ar yr hen wrach!) said one of the chiefs of the tylwyth teg. 'too late!' cried the woman on the edge of the bank; and many of them ran after her to the house. as they ran three or four of them lost their pipes in the field. they are pipes ingeniously made of the blue stone (carreg las) of the gully. they measure three or four inches long, and from time to time several of them have been found near the cave of trwyn swch.--this is the first indication which i have discovered, that the fairies are addicted to smoking. p. . a rhiw gyferthwch (printed rywgyverthwch) occurs in the record of carnarvon, p. ; but it seems to have been in merionethshire, and far enough from arfon. p. . in the article already cited from the romania, m. paris finds twrch trwyth in the boar tortain of a french romance: see xxviii. , where he mentions a legend concerning the strange pedigree of that beast. the subject requires to be further studied. p. . a less probable explanation of latio would be to suppose orti understood. this has been suggested to me by mr. nicholson's treatment of the llanaelhaiarn inscription as ali ortus elmetiaco hic iacet, where i should regard ali as standing for an earlier nominative alec-s, and intended as the celtic equivalent for cephas or peter: ali would be the word which is in med. irish ail, genitive ailech, 'a rock or stone.' p. . we have the maethwy of gilvaethwy possibly still further reduced to aethwy in porth aethwy, 'the village of menai bridge,' in spite of its occurring in the record of carnarvon, p. , as porthaytho. p. . to the reference to the cymmrodor, ix. , as to beli being called son of anna, add the welsh elucidarium, p. , with its belim vab anna, and the cambro-british saints, p. , where we have anna ... genuit beli. p. . two answers to the query as to the llech las are now to be found in the scottish antiquary, xv. - . p. . caer gai is called also caer gynyr, after cai's father cynyr, to wit in a poem by william lleyn, who died in . this i owe to professor j. morris jones, who has copied it from a collection of that poet's works in the possession of myrdin fard, fo. . p. . here it would, perhaps, not be irrelevant to mention caer dwrgynt, given s. v. dwr in morris' celtic remains, as a name of caergybi, or holyhead. his authority is given in parenthesis thus: (th. williams, catal.). i should be disposed to think the name based on some such an earlier form as kair d bgint, 'the fortress of the danes,' who were called in old welsh dub-gint (annales cambriæ, a. d. , in the cymmrodor, ix. ), that is to say 'gentes nigræ or black pagans,' and more simply gint or gynt, 'gentes or heathens.' pp. - . the word banna c, whence the later bannog, seems to be the origin of the name bonoec given to the famous horn in the lai du corn, from which m. paris in his romania article, xxviii. , cites cest cor qui bonoec a non, 'this horn which is called bonoec.' the welsh name would have to be corn (yr) ych banna c, 'the horn of (the) bannog ox,' with or without the article. p. , note . one of the liverpool eistedfod competitors cites w. o. pughe to the following effect in welsh:--llyn dau ychain, 'the lake of two oxen,' is on hiraethog mountain; and near it is the footmark of one of them in a stone or rock (carreg), where he rested when seeking his partner, as the local legend has it. another cites a still wilder story, to the effect that there was once a wonderful cow called y fuwch fraith, 'the parti-coloured cow.' 'to that cow there came a witch to get milk, just after the cow had supplied the whole neighbourhood. so the witch could not get any milk, and to avenge her disappointment she made the cow mad. the result was that the cow ran wild over the mountains, inflicting immense harm on the country; but at last she was killed by hu near hiraethog, in the county of denbigh.' p. . with trwtan, trwtyn-tratyn, and trit-a-trot should doubtless be compared the english use of trot as applied contemptuously to a woman, as when grumio, in shakespeare's taming of the shrew, act i, sc. , speaks of 'an old trot with ne'er a tooth in her head': the word was similarly used by thomas heywood and others. p. . with regard to note , i find that professor zimmer is of opinion--in fact he is quite positive--that tyngu and tynghed are in no way related: see the göttingische gelehrte anzeigen for (no. ), pp. - . p. . i am tempted to rank with the man-eating fairies the atecotti, who are known to have been cannibals, and whose name seems to mean the ancient race. should this prove tenable, one would have to admit that the little people, or at any rate peoples with an admixture of the blood of that race, could be trained to fight. further, one would probably have to class with them also such non-cannibal tribes as those of the fir bolg and the galiúin of irish story. information about both will be found in my hibbert lectures, in reading which, however, the mythological speculations should be brushed aside. lastly, i anticipate that most of the peoples figuring in the oldest class of irish story will prove to have belonged either ( ) to the dwarf race, or ( ) to the picts; and that careful reading will multiply the means of distinguishing between them. looking comprehensively at the question of the early races of the british isles, the reader should weigh again the concluding words of professor haddon's theory, quoted on p. above. notes [ ] for most of my information on this subject i have to thank mr. david davies, editor of the south wales daily post, published at swansea. [ ] i am indebted for this information to mr. j. herbert james of vaynor, who visited kenfig lately and has called my attention to an article headed 'the borough of kenfig,' in the archæologia cambrensis for : see more especially the maps at pp. - . [ ] here the welsh has a word edafwr, the exact meaning of which escapes me, and i gather from the remarks of local etymologers that no such word is now in use in glamorgan. [ ] see the book of aberpergwm, printed as brut y tywysogion, in the myvyrian archaiology, ii. ; also morgan's antiquarian survey of east gower, p. , where the incident is given from 'brut y tywysogion, a. d. .' it is, however, not in what usually passes by the name of brut y tywysogion, but comes, as the author kindly informs me, from a volume entitled 'brut y tywysogion, the gwentian chronicle of caradoc of llancarvan, with a translation by the late aneurin owen, and printed for the cambrian archæological association, ': see pp. - . [ ] for this also i have to thank mr. herbert james, who recently inspected the spot with mr. glascodine of swansea. [ ] i do not know whether anybody has identified the spot which the writer had in view, or whether the coast of the severn still offers any feature which corresponds in any way to the description. [ ] supposed to be so called after a certain tegid foel, or 'tegid the bald,' of penllyn: the name tegid is the phonetic spelling of what might be expected in writing as tegyd--it is the latin tacitus borrowed, and comes with other latin names in pedigree i. of the cuneda dynasty; see the cymmrodor, xi. . in point of spelling one may compare idris for what might be expected written idrys, of the same pronunciation, for an earlier iudrys or iudris. [ ] the translation was made by thomas twyne, and published in under the title of the breuiary of britayne, where the passage here given occurs, on fol. b. the original was entitled commentarioli britannicæ descriptionis fragmentum, published at cologne in . the original of our passage, fol. a, has guynedhia and llunclis. the stem llwnc of llyncaf, 'i swallow,' answers, according to welsh idiom, to the use of what would be in english or latin a participle. similarly, when a compound is not used, the verbal noun (in the genitive) is used: thus 'a feigned illness,' in welsh 'a made illness,' is saldra gwneyd, literally 'an indisposition or illness of making.' so 'the deuouryng of the palace' is incorrect, and based on llwyd's vorago palatij instead of palatium voratum. [ ] for other occurrences of the name, see the black book, fol. a, a, and morris' celtic remains, where, s. v. benlli, the welsh name of bardsey, to wit, ynys enlli, is treated by somebody, doubtless rightly, as a shortening of ynys fenlli. [ ] the meaning of this name is not certain, but it seems to equate with the irish fochard, anglicized faughard, in county louth: see o'donovan's four masters, a. d. ; also the book of the dun cow, where it is focherd, genitive focherda, dative focheird, fo. b, b, a, b, a, a. [ ] this is sometimes given as glannach, which looks like the goidelic form of the name: witness giraldus' enislannach in his itin. kambriæ, ii. (p. ). [ ] see choice notes, p. , and gerald griffin's poetical and dramatic works, p. . [ ] failing to see this, various writers have tried to claim the honour of owning the bells for aberteifi, 'cardigan,' or for abertawe, 'swansea'; but no arguments worthy of consideration have been urged on behalf of either place: see cyfaill yr aelwyd for , p. . [ ] for some of the data as to the reckoning of the pedigrees and branching of a family, see the first volume of aneurin owen's ancient laws--gwyned, iii. i. - (pp. - ); dyfed, ii. i. - (pp. - ); gwent, ii. viii. - (pp. - ); also the welsh people, pp. - . [ ] see the book of the dun cow, fol. a & seq. [ ] for instances, the reader may turn back to pp. or , but there are plenty more in the foregoing chapters; and he may also consult howells' cambrian superstitions, pp. - , - , . in one case, p. , he gives an instance of the contrary kind of imagination: the shepherd who joined a fairy party on frenni fach was convinced, when his senses and his memory returned, that, 'although he thought he had been absent so many years, he had been only so many minutes.' the story has the ordinary setting; but can it be of popular origin? the frenni fach is a part of the mountain known as the frenni fawr, in the north-east of pembrokeshire; the names mean respectively the little breni, and the great breni. the obsolete word breni meant, in old welsh, the prow of a ship; local habit tends, however, to the solecism of brenin fawr, with brenin, 'king,' qualified by an adjective mutated feminine; but people at a distance who call it frenni fawr, pronounce the former vocable with nn. lastly, y vrevi va r occurs in maxen's dream in the red book (oxford mab. p. ); but in the white book (in the peniarth collection), col. , the proper name is written freni: for this information i have to thank mr. gwenogvryn evans. [ ] it is right to say that another account is given in the rennes dindsenchas, published by stokes in the revue celtique, xvi. , namely, that laiglinne with fifty warriors 'came to the well of dera son of scera. a wave burst over them and drowned laiglinne with his fifty warriors, and thereof a lake was made. hence we say loch laiglinni, laiglinne's lake.' [ ] the oxford mabinogion, p. , and guest's, i. . [ ] see afanc in the geiriadur of silvan evans, who cites instances in point. [ ] see the revue celtique, i. , and my hibbert lectures, pp. - . [ ] the four masters, a.m. . [ ] in another version campbell had found it to be sand and nothing else. [ ] as to this incident of a girl and a supernatural, campbell says that he had heard it in the isle of man also, and elsewhere. [ ] see the revue celtique, ii. . he was also called labraid longsech, and labraid longsech lorc. the explanation of labraid lorc is possibly that it was originally labraid morc, and that the fondness for alliteration brought it into line as labraid lorc: compare llûd llaweraint in welsh for nûd llaweraint. this is not disproved by the fact that labraid lorc's grandfather is said to have been called loegaire lorc: loegaire lorc and labraid lorc are rather to be regarded perhaps as duplicates of the same original. [ ] see my arthurian legend, p. ; also hibbert lectures, p. . [ ] the original has in these passages respectively siblais a fual corbo thipra, 'minxit urinam suam so that it was a spring'; ar na siblad a fúal ar na bad fochond báis doib, 'ne mingat urinam suam lest it should be the cause of death to them'; and silis, 'minxit,' fo. b. for a translation of the whole story see dr. o'grady's silva gadelica, pp. - ; also joyce's old celtic romances, pp. - . [ ] see the story in dr. o'grady's silva gadelica, pp. - . [ ] see stengel's edition of li romans de durmart le galois (tübingen, ), lines - , and my arthurian legend, pp. - . [ ] see williams' scint greal, pp. - , - ; nutt's holy grail, p. ; and my arthurian legend, pp. - . [ ] bardoniaeth d. ab gwilym, poem . a similar descent of blodeuwed's appears implied in the following englyn--one of two--by anthony powel, who died in : it is given by taliesin ab iolo in his essay on the neath valley, entitled traethawd ar gywreined, hynafiaeth, a hen bendefigion glynn ned (aberdare, ), p. :-- crug ael, carn gadarn a godwyd yn fryn, yn hen fraenwaith bochlwyd; main a'i llud man y lladwyd, merch hoewen loer meirchion lwyd. it refers, with six other englynion by other authors, to a remarkable rock called craig y dinas, with which taliesin associated a cave where arthur or owen lawgoch and his men are supposed, according to him, to enjoy a secular sleep, and it implies that blodeuwed, whose end in the mabinogi of mâth was to be converted into an owl, was, according to another account, overwhelmed by craig y dinas. it may be englished somewhat as follows: heaped on a brow, a mighty cairn built like a hill, like ancient work rough with age, grey-cheeked; stones that confine her where she was slain, grey meirchion's daughter quick and bright as the moon. [ ] this comes from the late series of triads, iii. , where merlin's nine companions are called naw beird cylfeird: cylfeird should be the plural of cylfard, which must be the same word as the irish culbard, name of one of the bardic grades in ireland. [ ] for some more remarks on this subject generally, see my arthurian legend, chapter xv, on the 'isles of the dead.' [ ] see his itinerarium kambriæ, ii. (p. ); also my celtic britain, p. , and arthurian legend, p. . [ ] from the myvyrian archaiology of wales, i. . [ ] i regard nid kywiw as a corruption of ni chywiw from cyf-yw, an instance of the verb corresponding to cymod (= cym-bod), 'peace, conciliation.' the preterite has, in the oxford bruts, a.d. (p. ), been printed kynni for what one may read kymu: the words would then be y kymu reinald y bre ys ar brenhin, 'that reginald de breos was reconciled with the king, or settled matters with him.' [ ] see the book of taliessin, poem xxx, in skene's four ancient books, ii. ; also guest's mabinogion, ii. , and the brython for , p. b, where more than one article of similar capacity of distinguishing brave men from cowards is mentioned. [ ] see dugdale's monasticon, v. , where they are printed dwynech and dwynaur respectively. [ ] see my hibbert lectures, pp. - . [ ] a full account of them will be found in a volume devoted to them, and entitled roman antiquities at lydney park, gloucestershire, being a posthumous work of the rev. w. hiley bathurst, with notes by c. w. king, london, . see also an article entitled 'das heiligtum des nodon,' by dr. hübner in the jahrbücher des vereins von alterthumsfreunden im rheinlande, lxvii. pp. - , where several things in mr. king's book are criticized. [ ] see my hibbert lectures, pp. , . [ ] on this subject, see the welsh people, especially pp. - . [ ] why our dictionary makers have taken into their heads to treat it as tamesis i know not. the welsh is tafwys with a diphthong regularly representing an earlier long e or ei in the second syllable. there is, as far as i know, no reason to suppose tafwys an invention, rather than a genuine vocable of the same origin as the name of the glamorganshire river taff, in welsh taf, which is also the name of the river emptying itself at laugharne, in carmarthenshire. tafwys, however, does not appear to occur in any old welsh document; but no such weakness attaches to the testimony of the french tamise, which could hardly come from tamesis: compare also the place-name tamise near the scheldt in east flanders; this, however, may be of a wholly different origin. [ ] a more difficult version has been sent me by dewi glan ffrydlas, of bethesda: caffed y wrach, 'let him seize the hag'; methu'r cryfaglach, 'you have failed, urchin.' but he has not been able to get any explanation of the words at the penrhyn quarries. cryfaglach is also the form in mur y cryfaglach, 'the urchin's wall,' in jenkins' bed gelert, p. . he informs me that this is the name of an old ruin on an elevated spot some twenty or thirty yards from a swift brook, and not far in a south-south-easterly direction from sir edward watkin's chalet. [ ] for this i am indebted to mr. wm. davies (p. above), who tells me that he copied the original from chwedlau a thradodiadau gwyned, 'gwyned tales and traditions,' published in a periodical, which i have not been able to consult, called y gordofigion, for the year . [ ] the meaning of the word mwthlach is doubtful, as it is now current in gwyned only in the sense of a soft, doughy, or puffy person who is all of a heap, so to say. pughe gives mwythlan and mwythlen with similar significations. but mwthlach would seem to have had some such a meaning in the doggerel as that of rough ground or a place covered with a scrubby, tangled growth. it is possibly the same word as the irish mothlach, 'rough, bushy, ragged, shaggy'; see the vision of laisrén, edited by professor k. meyer, in the otia merseiana, pp. , . [ ] the account here given of the cyhiraeth is taken partly from choice notes, pp. - , and partly from howells, pp. - , - , who appears to have got uncertain in his narrative as to the sex of the cyhiraeth; but there is no reason whatsoever for regarding it as either male or female--the latter alone is warranted, as he might have gathered from her being called y gyhiraeth, 'the cyhiraeth,' never y cyhiraeth as far as i know. in north cardiganshire the spectre intended is known only by another name, that of gwrach y rhibyn, but y gyhiraeth or yr hen gyhiraeth is a common term of abuse applied to a lanky, cadaverous person, both there and in gwyned; in books, however, it is found sometimes meaning a phantom funeral. the word cyhiraeth would seem to have originally meant a skeleton with cyhyrau, 'sinews,' but no flesh. however, cyhyrau, singular cyhyr, would be more correctly written with an i; for the words are pronounced--even in gwyned--cyhir, cyhirau. the spelling cyhyraeth corresponds to no pronunciation i have ever heard of the word; but there is a third spelling, cyheuraeth, which corresponds to an actual cyhoereth or cyhoyreth, the colloquial pronunciation to be heard in parts of south wales: i cannot account for this variant. gwrach y rhibyn means the hag of the rhibyn, and rhibyn usually means a row, streak, a line--ma' nhw'n mynd yn un rhibyn, 'they are going in a line.' but what exactly gwrach y rhibyn should connote i am unable to say. i may mention, however, on the authority of mr. gwenogvryn evans, that in mid-cardiganshire the term gwrach y rhibyn means a long roll or bustle of fern tied with ropes of straw and placed along the middle of the top of a hayrick. this is to form a ridge over which and on which the thatch is worked and supported: gwrach unqualified is, i am told, used in this sense in glamorganshire. something about the gwrach sprite will be found in the brython for , p. a, while a different account is given in jenkins' bed gelert, pp. - . [ ] this statement i give from choice notes, p. ; but i must confess that i am sceptical as to the 'wings of a leathery and bat-like substance,' or of any other substance whatsoever. [ ] for more about her and similar ancestral personages, see the welsh people, pp. - . [ ] this seems to be the goidelic word borrowed, which in mod. irish is written cnocc or cnoc, 'a hill': the native welsh form is cnwch, as in cnwch coch in cardiganshire, cnwch dernog (corrupted into clwch dernog) in anglesey, printed kuwgh dernok in the record of carnarvon, p. , where it is associated with other interesting names to be noticed later. [ ] all said by natives of anglesey about rivers and mountains in their island must be taken relatively, for though the country has a very uneven surface it has no real mountain: they are apt to call a brook a river and a hillock a mountain, though the majestic heights of arfon are within sight. [ ] see pp. - of his essay on the neath valley, referred to in a note at p. above, where craig y dinas is also mentioned. [ ] this is an interesting word of obscure origin, to which i should like our ingenious etymologists to direct their attention. [ ] see the poetical works of john leyden (edinburgh, ), p. (scenes of infancy, part ii); also my arthurian legend, p. . [ ] i am indebted for the english story to an article entitled 'the two pedlar legends of lambeth and swaffham,' contributed by mr. gomme to the pages of the antiquary, x. - , in which he gives local details and makes valuable comparisons. i have to thank mr. gomme also for a cutting from the weekly issue of the leeds mercury for jan. , , devoted to 'local notes and queries' (no. cccxii), where practically the same story is given at greater length as located at upsall castle in yorkshire. [ ] i have never been to the spot, and i owe these particulars partly to mr. j. p. owen, of comeragh road, kensington, and partly to the rev. john fisher, already quoted at p. . this is the parish where some would locate the story of the sin-eater, which others stoutly deny, as certain periodical outbursts of polemics in the pages of the academy and elsewhere have shown. mr. owen, writing to me in , states, that, when he last visited the dinas some thirty years previously, he found the mouth of the cave stopped up in order to prevent cattle and sheep straying into it. [ ] mr. fisher refers me to an account of the discovery published in the cambrian newspaper for aug. , , a complete file of which exists, as he informs me, in the library of the royal institution of south wales at swansea. further, at the cambrians' meeting in that account was discussed and corrected by mr. stepney-gulston: see the archæologia cambrensis for , pp. - . he also 'pointed out that on the opposite side of the gap in the ridge the noted cave of owain law goch was to be found. near the pant-y-llyn bone caves is a place called craig derwydon, and close by is the scene of the exploits of owain law goch, a character who appears to have absorbed some of the features of arthurian romance. a cave in the locality bears owain's name.' [ ] as in llewelyn's charter to the monks of aberconwy, where we have, according to dugdale's monasticon, v. a, a scubordynemreis, that is scubor dyn emreis, 'din-emreis barn,' supposed to be hafod y borth, near bedgelert: see jenkins' bed gelert, p. . in the myvyrian, i. a, it has been printed din emrais. [ ] see somer's malory's morte darthur, xxi. v (= vol. i. p. ), and as to the marchlyn story see p. above. lastly some details concerning llyn llydaw will be found in the next chapter. [ ] the oldest spellings known of this name occur in manuscript a of the annales cambriæ and in the book of llan dâv as elized and elised, doubtless pronounced elissed until it became, by dropping the final dental, elisse. this in time lost its identity by assimilation with the english name ellis. thus, for example, in wynne's edition of powell's caradog of llancarfan's history of wales (london, ), pp. , , elised is reduced to elis. in the matter of dropping the d compare our dewi, 'st. david,' for dewid, for an instance of which see duffus hardy's descriptive catalogue, i. . the form eliseg with a final g has no foundation in fact. can the english name ellis be itself derived from elised? [ ] boncyn is derived from bonc of nearly the same meaning, and bonc is merely the english word bank borrowed: in south wales it is pronounced banc and used in north cardiganshire in the sense of hill or mountain. [ ] the name occurs twice in the story of kulhwch and olwen: see the mabinogion, p. , where the editors have read ricca both times in 'gormant, son of ricca.' this is, however, more than balanced by rita in the book of llan dâv, namely in tref rita, 'rita's town or stead,' which occurs five times as the name of a place in the diocese of llandaff; see pp. , , , . the uncertainty is confined to the spelling, and it has arisen from the difficulty of deciding in medieval manuscripts between t and c: there is no reason to suppose the name was ever pronounced ricca. [ ] this can hardly be the real name of the place, as it is pronounced gwybrnant (and even gwybrant), which reminds me of the gwybr fynyd on which gwyn ab nûd wanders about with his hounds: see evans' facsimile of the black book of carmarthen, p. a, where the words are, dy gruidir ar wibir winit. [ ] dugdale has printed this (v. a) carrecerereryr with one er too much, and the other name forms part of the phrase ad capud weddua-vaur, 'to the top of the great gwydfa'; but i learn from mr. edward owen, of gray's inn, that the reading of the manuscript is wedua vawr and carrecereryr. [ ] the mss. except b have y ylva, which is clearly not the right word, as it could only mean 'his place of watching.' [ ] see derfel hughes' llandegai and llanllechid, p. . as to drystan it is the pictish name drostan, but a kindred form occurs in cornwall on a stone near fowey, where years ago i guessed the ancient genitive drustagni; and after examining it recently i am able to confirm my original guess. the name of drystan recalls that of essyllt, which offers some difficulty. it first occurs in welsh in the nennian genealogies in the harleian ms. : see pedigree i in the cymmrodor, ix. , where we read that mermin (merfyn) was son of etthil daughter of cinnan (cynan), who succeeded his father rhodri molwynog in the sovereignty of gwyned in . the spelling etthil is to be regarded like that of the welsh names in nennius, for some instances of which see § (quoted in the next chapter) and the old welsh words calaur, nouel, patel, so spelt in the juvencus codex: see skene, ii. : in all these l does duty for ll. so etthil is to be treated as pronounced ethill or ethyll; but jesus college ms. gives a more ancient pronunciation (at least as regards the consonants) when it calls cynan's daughter ethellt: see the cymmrodor, viii. . powell, in his history of wales by caradog of llancarfan, as edited by wynne, writes the name esylht; and the medieval welsh spelling has usually been essyllt or esyllt, which agrees in its sibilant with the french iselt or iseut; but who made the breton-looking change from eth to es or is in this name remains a somewhat doubtful point. professor zimmer, in the zeitschrift für französische sprache und litteratur, xiii. - , points out that the name is an anglo-saxon ethylda borrowed, which he treats as a 'kurzform für ethelhild': see also the revue celtique, xii. , xiii. . the adoption of this name in wales may be regarded as proof of intermarriage or alliance between an english family and the royal house of gwyned as early as the eighth century. [ ] see the brython for , pp. - , also cymru fu, p. , where glasynys was also inclined to regard the hairy fellow as being owen. [ ] i have never seen a copy, but mr. fisher gives me the title as follows: prophwydoliaeth myrdin wyllt yn nghyda ber hanes o'i fywyd, wedi eu tynu allan o lyfr y daroganau ... caerfyrdin ... pris dwy geiniog. it has no date, but mr. fisher once had a copy with the date . recently he has come across another versified prophecy written in the same style as the printed ones, and referring to an owain who may have been owen lawgoch. the personage meant is compared to the most brilliant of pearls, owain glain golyaf. the prophecy is to be found at the swansea public library, and occurs in a seventeenth century manuscript manual of roman catholic devotion, latin and welsh. it gives as the year of the deliverance of the brytaniaid. it forms the first of two poems (fo. ), the second of which is ascribed to taliessin. such is mr. fisher's account of it, and the lines which he has copied for me cling to the same theme of the ultimate triumph of the kymry. quite recently i have received further information as to these prophecies from mr. j. h. davies, of lincoln's inn (p. ), who will, it is to be hoped, soon publish the results of his intimate study of their history in south wales. [ ] record of carnarvon, p. , to which attention was called by me in the report of the welsh land commission, p. : see now the welsh people, pp. - , - . [ ] nor was owen the only welshman in the king of france's service: there was owen's chaplain, who on one occasion distinguished himself greatly in battle. he is called in froissart's text david house, but the editor has found from other documents that the name was honvel flinc, which is doubtless howel, whatever the second vocable may have been: see froissart, viii, pp. xxxviii, . [ ] as to the original destination of the flotilla, see kervyn de lettenhove's edition of froissart (brussels, - ), viii. - , where the editor has brought together several notes, from which it appears that owen tried unsuccessfully to recruit an army in spain, but that he readily got together in france a considerable force. for charles v, on may , , ordered the formation of an army, to be placed under owen's command for the reconquest of his ancestors' lands in wales, and two days later owen issued a declaration as to his welsh claims and his obligations to the french king; but the flotilla stopped short with guernsey. it is not improbable, however, that the fear in england of a descent on wales by owen began at least as early as . in his declaration owen calls himself evain de gales, which approaches the welsh spelling ewein, more frequently ywein, modern ywain, except that all these forms tended to be supplanted by owain or owen. this last is, strictly speaking, the colloquial form, just as howel is the colloquial form of hywel, and bowyd of bywyd, 'life.' [ ] for the account of owen's life see the chroniques de j. froissart publiées pour la société de l'histoire de france, edited with abstracts and notes by siméon luce, more especially vols. viii. pp. - , , - , , , , and ix. pp. - , where a summary is given of his life and a complete account of his death. in lord berners' translation, published in henry viii's time, owen is called yuan of wales, as if anybody could even glance at the romances without finding that owen ab urien, for instance, became in french ywains or ivains le fils urien in the nominative, and ywain or ivain in régime. thomas johnes of hafod, whose translation was published in - , betrays still greater ignorance by giving him the modern name evan; but he had the excuse of being himself a welshman. [ ] for copies of some of the documents in point see rymer's foedera, viii. , , . [ ] i have not been able to find a copy of this work, and for drawing my attention to the passage in hanes cymru i have again to thank mr. fisher. the pedigree in question will be found printed in table i in askew roberts' edition of sir john wynne's history of the gwydir family (oswestry, ); and a note, apparently copied from miss llwyd, states that it was in a hengwrt ms. she found the identification of owen lawgoch. the editor surmises that to refer to p. of hengwrt ms. , which he represents as being a copy of hengwrt ms. in the handwriting of robert vaughan the antiquary. [ ] this has already been undertaken: on feb. , , a summary of this chapter was read to a meeting of the hon. society of cymmrodorion, and six weeks later mr. edward owen, of gray's inn, read an elaborate paper in which he essayed to fix more exactly yvain de galles' place in the history of wales. it would be impossible here to do justice to his reasoning, based as it was on a careful study of the records in point. let it suffice for the present, however, that the paper will in due course appear in the society's transactions. mr. j. h. davies also informs me that he is bringing together items of evidence, which tend, as he thinks, to show that miss llwyd's information was practically correct. before, however, the question can be considered satisfactorily answered, some explanation will have to be offered of froissart's statement, that yvain's father's name was aymon. [ ] we seem also to have an instance in point in carmarthenshire, where legend represents owen and his men sleeping in ogof myrdin, the name of which means merlin's cave, and seems to concede priority of tenancy to the great magician: see the extinct periodical golud yr oes (for ), i. , which i find to have been probably drawing on eliezer williams' english works (london, ), p. . [ ] for the greek text of the entire passage see the didot edition of plutarch, vol. iii. p. (de defectu oraculorum, xviii); also my arthurian legend, pp. - . it is curious to note that storms have, in a way, been associated in england with the death of her great men as recently as that of the celebrated duke of wellington: see choice notes, p. . [ ] see my arthurian legend, p. . i am indebted to professor morfill for rendering the hexameters into english verse. [ ] they are produced here in their order as printed at the beginning of the second volume of the myvyrian archaiology of wales, and the series or versions are indicated as i, ii, iii. version ii will be found printed in the third volume of the cymmrodor, pp. - , also in the oxford mabinogion, pp. - , from the red book of hergest of the fourteenth century. the letter (a, b, c) added is intended to indicate the order of the three parts of the triad, for it is not the same in all the series. let me here remark in a general way that the former fondness of the welsh for triads was not peculiar to them. the irish also must have been at one time addicted to this grouping. witness the triad of cleverest countings, in the book of the dun cow, fol. a, and the triad of the blemishes of the women of ulster, ib. b. [ ] as to the names drystan (also trystan) and essyllt, see the footnote on p. above. [ ] this was meant to explain the unusual term g rdueichyat, also written g rdueichat, g rueichyat, and gwrddfeichiad. this last comes in the modern spelling of iii. , where this clause is not put in the middle of the triad but at the end. [ ] the editor of this version seems to have supposed pendaran to have been a place in dyfed! but his ignorance leaves us no evidence that he had a different story before him. [ ] this word is found written in mod. welsh annwfn, but it has been mostly superseded by the curtailed form annwn, which appears twice in the mabinogi of math. these words have been studied by m. gaidoz in meyer and stern's zeitschrift für celtische philologie, i. - , where he equates annwfn with the breton anauon, which is a plural used collectively for the souls of the departed, the other world. his view, however, of these interesting words has since been mentioned in the same zeitschrift, iii. - , and opposed in the annales de bretagne, xi. . [ ] edited by professor kuno meyer (london, ): see for instance pp. - . [ ] see windisch's irische texte, p. , and now the irish text society's fled bricrend, edited with a translation by george henderson, pp. , . [ ] windisch, ibid. pp. - . [ ] see the oxford mabinogion, p. , and guest's trans., i. , where the welsh words a gol ython o gic meluoch are rendered 'and collops of the flesh of the wild boar,' which can hardly be correct; for the mel in mel-uoch, or mel-foch in the modern spelling, is the equivalent of the irish melg, 'milk.' so the word must refer either to a pig that had been fed on cows' milk or else a sucking pig. the former is the more probable meaning, but one is not helped to decide by the fact, that the word is still sometimes used in books by writers who imagine that they have here the word mel, 'honey,' and that the compound means pigs whose flesh is as sweet as honey: see dr. pughe's dictionary, where melfoch is rendered 'honey swine,' whatever that may mean. [ ] windisch's irische texte, p. , where laith lemnacht = welsh llaeth llefrith, 'sweet milk.' [ ] collfrewi was probably, like gwenfrewi, a woman's name: this is a point of some importance when taken in connexion with what was said at p. above as to gwydion and coll's magic. [ ] this reminds one of geoffrey of monmouth's henvinus, whom he makes into dux cornubiæ and father of cunedagius or cuneda: see ii. , . probably geoffrey's connecting such names as those of cuneda and dyfnwal moelmud (ii. ) with cornwall is due to the fact, that the name of the dumnonia of the north had been forgotten long before that of the dumnonia to be identified with devon and cornwall. [ ] see the oxford mabinogion, p. , and the oxford bruts, p. . [ ] see the oxford bruts, pp. , , - , , . i learn from prof. anwyl that castell penwedig is still remembered at llanfihangel genau'r glyn as the old name of castell gwallter in that parish. [ ] see his note in owen's pembrokeshire, p. , where he also notices aber tarogi, and the editor's notes to p. . [ ] mergaed for mengwaed hardly requires any explanation; and as to breat or rather vreat, as it occurs in mutation, we have only to suppose the original carelessly written vreac for vreach, and we have the usual error of neglecting the stroke indicating the n, and the very common one of confounding c with t. this first-mentioned name should possibly be analysed into mengw-aed or menw-aed for an irish menb-aed, with the menb, 'little,' noticed at p. below; in that case one might compare such compounds of aed as beo-aed and lug-aed in the martyrology of gorman. should this prove well founded the mod. welsh transcription of menwaed should be menwaed. i have had the use of other versions of the triads from mss. in the peniarth collection; but they contribute nothing of any great importance as regards the proper names in the passages here in question. [ ] see the oxford mabinogion, pp. , , and guest's trans., iii. . [ ] see geoffrey's historia regum britanniæ, vi. , viii. , ; also giraldus, itinerarium kambriæ, ii. (p. ). [ ] itinerarium kambriæ, ii. (p. ). [ ] menw's name is to be equated with the irish word menb, 'little, small,' and connected with the welsh derivative di-fenw-i, 'belittling or reviling': it will be seen that he takes the form of a bird, and his designation menw fab teirgwaed might perhaps be rendered 'little, son of three-cries.' [ ] identified by professor kuno meyer in the transactions of the cymmrodorion society, - , p. , with a place in leinster called sescenn uairbeóil, 'the marsh of uairbhél,' where uairbhél may possibly be a man's name, but more likely that of a pass or gap described as cold-mouth: compare the slack or sloc in the isle of man, called in manx 'the big mouth of the wind.' the irish name comes near in part to the welsh esgeir oervel or oerfel, which means 'the mountain spur of cold weather.' [ ] the word used in the text is ystyr, which now means 'meaning or signification'; but it is there used in the sense of 'history,' or of the latin 'historia,' from which it is probably borrowed. [ ] in the original his designation is gwrhyr gwalstawt ieithoed, and the man so called is in the kulhwch credited with the mastery of all languages, including those of certain birds and quadrupeds. gwalstawt, found written also gwalstot, is the anglo-saxon word wealhstód, 'an interpreter,' borrowed. the name gwrhyr is possibly identical with that of ferghoir, borne by the stentor of fionn mac cumhaill's following. ferghoir's every shout is said to have been audible over three cantreds. naturally one who was to parley with a savage host had good reason to cultivate a far-reaching voice, if he wished to be certain of returning to his friends. for more about it see the footnote at p. of my hibbert lectures. [ ] the original has pelumyawc, p. , and the name occurs in the (red book) bruts, p. , as pelunyawc, and p. , as pelunea(wc) between the commots of amgoed and velfrey. the identification here suggested comes from mr. phillimore, who has seen that peuliniawc must be a derivative from the name paulinus, that is of the paulinus, probably, who is mentioned in an ancient inscription at llandysilio. there are other churches called after tysilio, so this one used to be distinguished as llandysilio yn nyfed, that is, llandysilio-in-dyfed; but the pronunciation was much the same as if it had been written llandysilio yn yfed, meaning 'llandysilio a-drinking,' 'whereof arose a merrye jest,' as george owen tells us in his pembrokeshire, p. . it is now sometimes called llandysilio'r gynffon, or 'llandysilio of the tail,' from the situation of a part of the parish on a strip, as it were a tail, of carmarthenshire land running into pembrokeshire. [ ] this aber towy appears to have been a town with a harbour in , for we read in brut y tywysogion of a cruel engagement fought there between gruffyd ab llewelyn and howel ab edwin, who, with irish auxiliaries, tried to effect a landing. not long ago a storm, carrying away the accumulation of sand, laid bare a good deal of the site. it is to be hoped that excavations will be made soon on the spot. [ ] see the transactions of the cymmrodorion, - , pp. - . there are a good many clyns about south wales, but our etymologists are careful to have them in most cases written glyn, 'a glen.' our story, however, shows that the word came under the influence of glyn long ago, for it should be, when accented, clûn, corresponding to irish cluain, 'a meadow.' we have it as clun in clun kein in the black book, p. b, where i guess it to mean the place now called cilcain, 'kilken' in flintshire, which is accented on the first syllabic; and we have had it in y clun hir, 'the long meadow,' mentioned above at p. . [ ] cas llychwr, 'loughor castle,' is supposed to involve in its llychwr, llwchwr, or loughor, the name of the place in the antoninus itinerary, , , to wit leucarum; but the guttural spirant ch between vowels in llychwr argues a phonetic process which was goidelic rather than brythonic. [ ] llwydawc gouynnyat would seem to mean llwydawc the asker or demander, and the epithet occurs also in the kulhwch in the name gallcoyt gouynynat (mabinogion, ), to be read doubtless g. gouynnyat, 'g. who asks or demands': possibly one should rather compare with go-uynnyat the word tra-mynyat, 'a wild boar': see williams' seint greal, pp. , . however, the epithets in the twrch trwyth story do not count so far as concerns the place-names derived. [ ] other instances of the like shortening occur in words like cefnder, 'a cousin,' for cefnderw, and ardel, 'to own,' for ardelw. as to amman, it enters, also, into a group of glamorganshire place-names: witness aber amman and cwm amman, near aberdare. [ ] it should perhaps be looked for near brechfa, where there is a hafod grugyn, and, as i am told, a garth also which is, however, not further defined. for it appears that both brechfa and cayo, though now in carmarthenshire, once belonged to keredigion: see owen's pembrokeshire, p. . but perhaps another spot should be considered: j. d. rhys, the grammarian (p. above), gives in the peniarth ms. a list of caers or castles called after giants, and among them is that of grugyn in the parish, he says, of 'llan hilar.' i have, however, not been able to hear of any trace of the name there, though i should guess the spot to have been pen y castell, called in english castle hill, the residence of mr. loxdale in the parish of llanilar, near aberystwyth. [ ] i have re-examined the passage, and i have no doubt that the editors were wrong in printing gregyn: the manuscript has grugyn, which comes in the last line of column . now besides that the line is in part somewhat faint, the scribe has evidently omitted something from the original story, and i guess that the lacuna occurs in the first line of the next column after the words y llas, 'was killed,' which seem to end the story of grugyn. [ ] those who have discovered an independent welsh appellative wy meaning water are not to be reasoned with. the welsh wy only means an egg, while the meaning of gwy as the name of the wye has still to be discovered. [ ] this name also occurs in a passage quoted in jones' brecknock, ii. , from a carte ms. which he treats as relating to the year : the ms. is said to be at the bodleian, though i have not succeeded in tracing it. but jones gives villa de ystraddewi, and speaks of a chapel of st. john's of stradtewi, which must have been st. john's church, at tretower, one of the ecclesiastical districts of cwm du: see also p. . the name is probably to be treated as strad or strat d'ewe. [ ] a river may in welsh be briefly called after anybody or anything. thus in north cardiganshire there is a stream called einon, that is to say 'einion's river,' and the flat land on both sides of it is called ystrad einon, which looks as if one might translate it einion's strath, but it means the strath of einion's river, or of the stream called einon, as one will at once see from the upper course of the water being called blaen einon, which can only mean the upper course of the einon river. so here yw is in english 'yew,' but ystrad yw and llygad yw have to be rendered the strath of the yew burn and the eye of the yew burn respectively. it is moreover felt by the welsh-speaking people of the district that yw is the plural of ywen, 'a single yew,' and as there is only one yew at the source somebody had the brilliant idea of making the name right by calling it ywen, and this has got into the maps as ewyn, as though it were the welsh word for foam. who began it i cannot say, but theophilus jones has it in his history of the county of brecknock, published in . nevertheless the name is still yw, not ywen or ewyn, in the welsh of the district, though lewis gives it as ywen in his article on llanvihangel-cwm-du. [ ] for exact information as to the gaer, the yw, and llygad yw, i am indebted chiefly to the courtesy of lord glanusk, the owner of that historic strath, and to the rector of llansantffread, who made a special visit to llygad yw for me; also to mr. francis evans, of the farmers' arms at the bwlch, who would be glad to change the name llygad yw into llygad dan yr ywen, 'the source beneath the yew-tree,' partly on account of the position 'of the spring emanating under the but of the yew tree,' and partly because there is only a single yew there. theophilus jones complained a century ago that the gaer in ystrad yw had not attracted the attention it deserved; and i have been greatly disappointed to find that the cambrian archæological association has had nothing to say of it. at any rate, i have tried the index of its proceedings and found only a single mention of it. the whole district is said to teem with antiquities, celtic, roman, and norman. [ ] theophilus jones, in his brecknockshire, ii. , describes miarth or myarth as a 'very extensive' camp, and proceeds as follows:--'another british camp of less extent is seen on a knoll on pentir hill, westward of the rhiangoll and the parish church of cwmdu, above a wood called coed y gaer, and nearly opposite to the peak or summit called cloch y pibwr, or the piper's call.' this would probably be more accurately rendered the piper's rock or stone, with cloch treated as the goidelic word for a stone rather than the brythonic word for a bell: how many more clochs in our place-names are goidelic? [ ] the twrch would seem to have crossed somewhere opposite the mouth of the wye, let us say not very far from aust; but he escapes to cornwall without anything happening to him, so we are left without any indication whether the story originally regarded kernyw as including the penrhyn awstin of the coll story given at p. . [ ] for this suggestion i am indebted to the rev. dr. gaster in the cymmrodorion's transactions for - , p. , and also for references in point to m. cosquin's contes populaires de la lorraine, i. , , . compare also such gaelic stories as that of the bodach glas, translated by mrs. mackellar, in the celtic magazine, xii. - , - . [ ] in some native welsh words we have an option between a prefix ym and am, an option arising out of the fact that originally it was neither ym nor am, but m, for an earlier mbi, of the same origin as latin ambi and greek amphi, 'around, about.' the article, its meaning in the combination in banbh being forgotten, would fall under the influence of the analogy of the prefix, now am or ym, so far as the pronunciation was concerned. [ ] possibly the benwic was thrown in to correct the reckoning when the redactor discovered, as he thought, that he had one too many to account for: it has been pointed out that he had forgotten that one had been killed in ireland. [ ] it is just possible, however, that in an older version it was named, and that the place was no other than the rock just above ystrad yw, called craig lwyd or, as it is said to be pronounced, craig llwyd. if so, llwyd would seem to have been substituted for the dissyllable llwydog: compare the same person called llwyt and llwydeu in the mabinogion, pp. , , . [ ] the name is well known in that of llanrhaiadr yn mochnant, 'llanrhaiadr in mochnant,' in the north of montgomeryshire. [ ] between colwyn bay and llandudno junction, on the chester and holyhead line of railway. [ ] i have discussed some of the traces of the goidels in wales in the arch. camb. for , pp. - , - ; , pp. - . [ ] in fact the genitive grúcind occurs in the book of leinster, fo. a. [ ] the sort of question one would like to ask in that district is, whether there is a spot there called bed y rhyswyr, carn y rhyswyr, or the like. the word rhyswr is found applied to arthur himself in the life of gruffyd ab cynan, as the equivalent probably of the latin arthur miles (p. below): see the myvyrian archaiology, ii. . similarly the soldiers or champions of christ are called rys yr crist in the welsh life of st. david: see the elucidarium and other tracts (in the anecdota oxoniensia), p. . [ ] rudvyw rys would be in modern welsh rhudfyw rys, and probably means rhudfyw the champion or fighter, as rhys is likely to have been synonymous with rhyswr. the corresponding irish name was russ or ross, genitive rossa, and it appears to come from the same origin as irish ross, 'a headland, a forest,' welsh rhos, 'moorland, uncultivated ground.' the original meaning was presumably 'exposed or open and untilled land'; and stokes supposes the word to stand for an early (p)ro-sto- with sto of the same origin as latin sto, 'i stand,' and as the english word stand itself. in that case ros, genitive rossa, welsh rhys, would mean one who stands out to fight, a prostatês, so to say. but not only are these words of a different declension implying a nominative ro-stus, but the welsh one must have been once accented ro-stús on the ending which is now lost, otherwise there is no accounting for the change of the remaining vowel into y. other instances postulating an early welsh accentuation of the same kind are very probably llyg, 'a fieldmouse,' irish luch, 'a mouse'; pryd, 'form,' irish cruth; pryf, 'a worm,' irish cruim; so also with ych, 'an ox,' and nyth, 'a nest,' irish nett, genitive nitt, derived by stokes from nizdo-, which, however, must have been oxytone, like the corresponding sanskrit nidhá. there is one very interesting compound of rhys, namely the saint's name rhwydrys, as it were redo-rostus to be compared with gaulish eporedo-rix, which is found in irish analysed into rí eochraidhi, designating the fairy king who was father to Étáin: see windisch's irische texte, p. . bledrws, bledrus, as contrasted with bledrys, bledris, postulate goidelic accentuation, while one has to treat bledruis as a compromise between bledrws and bledris, unless it be due to misreading a bledruif (book of llan dâv, pp. , - , and arch. camb. for , p. ). the goidelic accent at an early date moved to first syllables, hence cruth (with its vowel influenced by the u of a stem qurt) under the stress accent, became, when unstressed, cridh (from a simplified stem crt) as in noicride (also nóicrothach, windisch, ibid., pp. , , ) and luicridh (four masters, a.d. ), luccraid, genitive luccraide (book of leinster, f), luguqurit- in ogam. [ ] these operations cannot have been the first of the kind in the district, as a writer in the archæologia cambrensis for , pp. - , in extracting a note from the proceedings of the society of antiquaries (series ii, vol. i. p. ) relative to the discovery of the canoe, adds a statement based on the same volume, p. , to the effect that 'within half a mile of llyn llydaw there are the remains of a british town, not marked in the ordnance map, comprising the foundations of numerous circular dwellings. in some of them quantities of the refuse of copper smeltings were found. this town should be visited and examined with care by some of the members of our association.' this was written not far short of forty years ago; but i am not aware that the association has done anything positive as yet in this matter. [ ] according to jenkins' bed gelert, p. , the canoe was subsequently sold for a substantial price, and nobody seems to know what has eventually become of it. it is to be hoped this is not correct. [ ] see holder's alt-celtischer sprachschatz, s. v. litavia. [ ] for these notes i am indebted to williams' dictionary of eminent welshmen, and to rees' welsh saints, pp. , ; for our paulinus is not yet recognized in the dictionary of christian biography. his day was nov. . [ ] there are two other inscriptions in south wales which contain the name paulinus, one on a stone found in the neighbourhood of port talbot in glamorgan, reading hic iacit cantusus pater paulinus, which seems to imply that paulinus set up the stone to the memory of a son of his named cantusus. the other, found on the site of the extinct church of llanwrthwl, near dolau cothi in carmarthenshire, is a remarkable one in a kind of hexameter to the following effect:-- servatur fidæi patrieque semper amator hic paulinus iacit cultor pientisimus æqui. whether we have one or two or three paulini in these inscriptions i cannot say. welsh writers, however, have made the name sometimes into pawl hên, 'paul the aged,' but, so far as i can see, without rhyme or reason. [ ] since i chanced on this inscription my friend professor lindsay of st. andrews has called my attention to plautus' asinaria, (ii. iv. ), where one reads, periphanes rhodo mercator dives, 'periphanes a wealthy merchant of rhodes'; he finds also Æsculapius epidauro (arnobius, . ), and elsewhere nepos philippis and priscus vienna. [ ] see stokes' patrick, pp. , . [ ] this will give the reader some idea of the pre-norman orthography of welsh, with l for the sound of ll and b for that of v. [ ] the softening of cafall to gafall could not take place after the masculine corn, 'a horn'; but it was just right after the feminine carn, 'a cairn.' so here corn is doubtless a colloquial corruption; and so is probably the t at the end, for as llt has frequently been reduced to ll, as in cyfaill, 'a friend,' from the older cyfaillt, in medieval irish comalta, 'a foster brother or sister,' the language has sometimes reversed the process, as when one hears hollt for holl, 'all,' or reads fferyllt, 'alchemist, chemist,' for fferyll from vergilius. the nennian orthography does not much trouble itself to distinguish between l and ll, and even when carn cabal was written the pronunciation was probably carn gavall, the mutation being ignored in the spelling, which frequently happens in the case even of welsh people who never fail to mutate their consonants in speaking. lastly, though it was a dog that was called cafall, it is remarkable that the word has exactly the form taken by caballus in welsh: for cafall, as meaning some sort of a horse, see silvan evans' geiriadur. [ ] an instance or two of trwyd will be found in a note by silvan evans in skene's four ancient books of wales, ii. . [ ] for more about these names and kindred ones, see a note of mine in the arch. cambrensis, , pp. - . [ ] see my hibbert lectures, pp. - . [ ] see the black book of carmarthen in evans' facsimile, p. b; thomas stephens' gododin, p. ; dent's malory, preface, p. xxvi; and skene's four ancient books of wales, ii. , , . [ ] see the göttingische gelehrte anzeigen for , p. . [ ] see de courson's cartulaire de l'abbaye de redon, pp. , . [ ] see reeves' note to the passage just cited in his edition of adamnan's vita, pp. , . [ ] here possibly one might mention likewise gilmin troetu or troeddu, 'gilmin of the black foot,' the legendary ancestor (p. ) of the wynns of glyn llifon, in carnarvonshire. so the name might be a shortening of some such a combination as gilla-min, 'the attendant of min or men,' a name we have also in mocu-min, 'min's kin,' a family or sept so called more than once by adamnan. perhaps one would also be right in regarding as of similar origin the name of gilberd or gilbert, son of cadgyffro, who is mentioned in the kulhwch, and in the black book, fo. b: at any rate i am not convinced that the name is to be identified with the gillebert of the normans, unless that was itself derived from celtic. but there is a discrepancy between gilmin, gilbert, with unmutated m and b, and gilvaethwy with its mutation consonant v. in all three, however, gil, had it been welsh, would probably have appeared as gill, as indicated by the name gilla in the kulhwch (oxford mabinogion, p. ), in which we seem to have the later form of the old name gildas. compare such irish instances as fiachna and cera, which seem to imply stems originally ending in -asa-s (masculine) and -asa (feminine); and see the journal of the royal society of antiquaries of ireland, , p. . [ ] an article in the rennes dindsenchas is devoted to liath: see the rev. celtique, xvi. - . as to celtchar, genitive celtchair, the name would seem to have meant 'him who is fond of concealment.' the mabinogi form of the welsh name is llwyt uab kil coet, which literally meant 'll. son of (him of) the retreat of the wood.' but in the twrch trwyth story, under a slightly different form of designation, we appear to have the same person as llwydeu mab kelcoet and llwydeu mab kel coet, which would seem to mean 'll. son of (him of) the hidden wood.' it looks as if the bilingual story-teller of the language transition had not been able to give up the cel of celtchar at the same time that he rendered celt by coet, 'wood or trees,' as if identifying it with cailt: witness the medieval irish caill, 'a wood or forest,' dative plural cailtib, derivative adjective caillteamhuil, 'silvester'; and see windisch's irische texte, p. , s. v. caill. [ ] windisch's irische texte, p. , and the book of the dun cow, fo. b. [ ] there has been a good deal of confusion as to the name llyr: thus for instance, the welsh translations of geoffrey of monmouth make the leir of his latin into llyr, and the personage intended is represented as the father of three daughters named gonerilla, regan, and cordeilla or cordelia. but cordelia is probably the creurdilad of the black book, p. b, and the creidylat of the kulhwch story (the oxford mabinogion, pp. , ), and her father was llûd llawereint (= irish nuada airgetlám) and not llyr. then as to the leir of geoffrey's latin, that name looks as if given its form on the strength of the legr- of legraceaster, the anglo-saxon name of the town now called leicester, of which william of malmesbury (gesta pontificum, § ) says, legrecestra est civitas antiqua in mediterraneis anglis, a legra fluvio præterfluente sic vocata. mr. stevenson regards legra as an old name of the soar, and as surviving in that of the village of leire, spelled legre in domesday. it seems to point back to a legere or ligere, which recalls liger, 'the loire.' [ ] i say in that case, as this is not quite conclusive; for welsh has an appellative llyr, 'mare, æquor,' which may be a generalizing of llyr; or else it may represent an early lerio-s from lero-s (see p. below), and our llyr may possibly be this and not the irish genitive lir retained as llyr. that, however, seems to me improbable on the whole. [ ] here it is relevant to direct the reader's attention to nutt's legend of the holy grail, p. , where, in giving an abstract of the petit saint graal, he speaks of the brân of that romance, in french bron, nominative brons, as having the keeping of the grail and dwelling 'in these isles of ireland.' [ ] the dôn and llyr groups are not brought into conflict or even placed in contact with one another; and the reason seems to be that the story-teller wanted to introduce the sons of beli as supreme in britain after the death of brân. beli and his sons are also represented in maxen's dream as ruling over britain when the roman conqueror arrives. what is to be made of beli may be learnt from the welsh people, pp. - . [ ] these things one learns about lir from the story mentioned in the text as the 'fate of the children of lir,' as to which it is right, however, to say that no ancient manuscript version is known: see m. d'arbois dc jubainville's essai d'un catalogue de la litérature épique de l'irlande, p. . [ ] see skene's four ancient books of wales, ii. , also - , where the fragment of the poem as given in the book of taliessin is printed. the line here quoted has been rendered in vol. i. , 'with matheu and govannon,' which places the old pagan gofannon in rather unexpected company. a few lines later in the poem mention is made of a kaer gofannon: where was that? skene, in a note on it (ii. ), says that 'in an old list of the churches of linlithgow, printed by theiner, appears vicaria de gumanyn. the place meant is probably dalmeny, on the firth of forth, formerly called dumanyn.' this is interesting only as showing that gumanyn is probably to be construed dumanyn, and that dalmeny represents an ancient dún manann in a neighbourhood where one already has clach manann, 'the stone of manau,' and sliabh manann, 'mountain of manau' now respectively clackmannan and slamannan, in what nennius calls manau guotodin. [ ] this occurred unrecognized and, therefore, unaltered by the scribe of the nennian pedigree no. xvi in the cymmrodor, ix. , as he found it written in an old spelling, louhen. map. guid gen. map. caratauc. map. cinbelin, where caradog is made father of gwydion; for in guid-gen we seem to have the compound name which suggested gwydion. this agrees with the fact that the mabinogi of math treats gwydion as the father of llew llawgyffes; but the pedigree itself seems to have been strangely put together. [ ] see bertrand's religion des gaulois, pp. - , - , and especially the plates. [ ] the oxford mabinogion, pp. - ; guest's mabinogion, iii. - . [ ] see louis leger's cyrille et méthode (paris, ), p. . [ ] see pertz, monumenta germaniæ historia scriptorum, xii. . the whole passage is worth quoting; it runs thus: erat autem simulacrum triceps, quod in uno corpore tria capita habens triglaus vocabatur; quod solum accipiens, ipsa capitella sibi cohærentia, corpore comminuto, secum inde quasi pro tropheo asportavit, et postea romam pro argumento conversionis illorum transmisit. [ ] see the welsh people, pp. - . [ ] the oxford mabinogion, p. ; guest's mabinogion, ii. . [ ] this may have meant the 'blue slate or flagstone'; but there is no telling so long as the place is not identified. it may have been in the pictish district of galloway, or else somewhere beyond the forth. query whether it was the same place as llech gelydon in prydyn, mentioned in boned y saint: see the myvyrian archaiology, ii. . [ ] the story of kulhwch and olwen has a different legend which represents nynio and peibio changed by the almighty into two oxen called ychen banna c: see the oxford mabinogion, p. , also my arthurian legend, p. , and the remarks which are to follow in this chapter with respect to those oxen. [ ] for the story in welsh see the iolo mss., pp. - , where a footnote tells the reader that it was copied from the book of 'iaco ab dewi.' from his father's manuscript, taliesin williams printed an abstract in english in his notes to his poem entitled the doom of colyn dolphyn (london, ), pp. - , from which it will be found translated into german in the notes to san-marte's geoffrey of monmouth's historia regum britanniæ, pp. - . [ ] oxford bruts, p. : compare p. , together with geoffrey's latin, vii. , x. . [ ] see kölbing's altenglische bibliothek, the fifth volume of which consists of libeaus desconus, edited by max kaluza (leipsic, ), lines , , and introduction, p. cxxxxiv. for calling my attention to this, i have to thank my friend, mr. henry bradley. [ ] malory's morte darthur, i. : see also i. - , ; ii. , - . [ ] see evans' autotype facsimile, fo. a: could the spot so called (in the welsh text argel ardudwy) be somewhere in the neighbourhood of llyn irdyn (p. ), a district said to be rich in the remains of a prehistoric antiquity? j. evans, author of the north wales volume of the beauties of england and wales, says, after hurriedly enumerating such antiquities, p. : 'perhaps in no part of britain is there still remaining such an assemblage of relicks belonging to druidical rites and customs as are found in this place, and the adjacent parts.' [ ] as to rion, see gaston paris and ulrich's merlin (paris, ), i. , - . other instances will readily occur to the reader, such as the domesday roelend or roelent for rothelan, in modern welsh rhudlan; but for more instances of this elision by french and anglo-norman scribes of vowel-flanked d and th, see notes and queries for oct. , , pp. - , and nov. , p. ; also vising's Étude sur le dialecte anglo-normand du xije siècle (upsala, ), p. ; and f. hildebrand's article on domesday, in the zeitschrift für romanische philologie, , p. . according to suchier in gröber's grundriss der rom. philologie, i. , this process of elision became complete in the twelfth century: see also schwan's grammatik des altfranzösischen (leipsic, ), p. . for most of these references, i have to thank my friend and neighbour, mr. stevenson of exeter college. [ ] it comes from the same llwyd ms. which has already been cited at pp. - : see the cambrian journal for , pp. - . [ ] i notice in the maps a spot called panylau, which is nearer to llyn gwynain than to llyn y dinas. [ ] see morris' celtic remains, s. v. serigi, and the iolo mss., p. . [ ] the iolo mss., p. , have syrigi wydel son of mwrchan son of eurnach hen. [ ] see triads, ii. , and the mabinogion, p. : in triads, i. , iii. , instead of solor we have doler and dolor. [ ] see the oxford mabinogion, pp. - . [ ] evans' autotype facsimile, fo. a; see also my preface to dent's malory, p. xxvii; likewise p. above. [ ] see my lectures on welsh philology, pp. - ; and, as to the caer gai tradition, the arch. camb. for , p. , and morris' celtic remains, p. . i may add as to llanuwchllyn, that the oldest inhabitants pronounce that name llanuwllyn. [ ] i cannot discover that it has ever been investigated by the cambrian archæological association or any other antiquaries. compare the case of the neighbouring site with the traces of the copper smeltings mentioned in the note on p. above. to my knowledge the cambrians have twice failed to make their way nearer to the ruins than llanberis, or at most llanberis pass, significantly called in welsh pen gorffwysfa for the older name gorffwysfa beris, 'peris' resting-place': thus we loyally follow the example of resting set by the saint, and leave alone the archæology of the district. [ ] the subject has been discussed at length by mr. jacobs, in a note to the legend, in his celtic fairy tales, pp. - ; and quite recently by mr. d. e. jenkins in his bed gelert (portmadoc, ), pp. - . [ ] professor j. morris jones, to whom i am indebted for the particulars connected with these names, informs me that the local pronunciation is drónwy; but mrs. rhys remembers that, years ago, at amlwch, it was always sounded darónwy. the professor also tells me that dernog is never made into dyrnog: the kuwgh of the record is doubtless to be corrected into knwgh, and probably also dornok into dernok, which is the reading in the margin. cornewe is doubtless the district name which we have still in llanfair y'nghornwy, 'st. mary's in cornwy': the mill is supposed to be that of bodronyn. [ ] the book of llan dáv has an old form cinust for an earlier cingust or congust. the early brythonic nominative must have been cunogústu-s and the early goidelic cúnagusu-s, and from the difference of accentuation come the o of conghus, connws, and the y of the welsh cynwst: compare irish fergus and welsh gurgúst, later gurúst (one syllable), whence grwst, finally the accented rwst of llanrwst, the name of a small town on the river conwy. moreover the accentuation cúnogusi is the reason why it was not written cunogussi: compare bárrivendi and véndubari in one and the same inscription from carmarthenshire. [ ] such as that of a holding called wele dauid ap gwelsantfrait, the latter part of which is perversely written or wrongly read so for gwas sant freit, a rendering into welsh of the very goidelic name, mael-brigte, 'servant of st. bridget.' this wele, with wele conus and wele more, is contained in the extent marginally headed darronwy cum hameletta de kuwghdernok. [ ] this comes in triad i. = ii. ; as to which it is to be noted that the name is catwallawn in i and ii, but caswallawn in iii. , as in the oxford mabinogion. [ ] serrigi, serigi, or syrigi looks like a latin genitive torn out of its context, but derived in the last resort from the norse name sigtrygg-r, which the four masters give as sitriucc or sitriug: see their entries from to . the scandinavians of dublin and its neighbourhood were addicted to descents on the shores of north wales; and we have possibly a trace of occupation by them in gauell seirith, 'seirith's holding,' in the record of carnarvon, p. , where the place in question is represented as being in the manor of cemmaes, in anglesey. the name seirith was probably that written by the four masters as sichfraith sichraidh (also serridh, a. d. ), that is to say the norse sigræd-r before it lost the f retained in its german equivalent siegfried. we seem to detect seirith later as seri in place-names in anglesey--as for example in the name of the farms called seri fawr and seri bach between llandrygarn and llannerch y med, also in a pen seri, 'seri's knoll or hill,' at bryn du, near ty croes station, and in another pen seri on holyhead island, between holyhead and llain goch, on the way to the south stack. lastly dugdale, v. b mentions a claud seri, 'seri's dyke or ditch,' as being somewhere in the neighbourhood of llanwnda, in carnarvonshire--not very far perhaps from the gwyrfai and the spot where the iolo mss. (pp. - ) represent serrigi repulsed by caswallon and driven back to anglesey, previous to his being crushed at cerrig y gwydyl. the reader must, however, be warned that the modern seri is sometimes pronounced sieri or sheri, which suggests the possibility of some of the instances involving rather a form of the english word sheriff. [ ] see my hibbert lectures, pp. - . [ ] the case with regard to the extreme south of the principality is somewhat similar; for inscriptions in glamorgan seem to bring the last echoes there of goidelic speech down to the seventh century: see the archæologia cambrensis for , pp. - . [ ] see evans' report on mss. in the welsh language, p. , where the welsh is quoted from p. of the peniarth ms. . [ ] see my arthurian legend, p. . [ ] see the revue celtique, ii. - , where dr. stokes has published the original with a translation and notes; also p. above. [ ] the gentlemen to whom i am chiefly indebted for the information embodied in the foregoing notes are the following four: the rev. john jones of ystad meurig, professor robert williams of st. david's college, the vicar of llandewi brefi, mr. j. h. davies of cwrt mawr and lincoln's inn (p. ); and as to the 'wild cattle' story of llyn eidwen, mr. j. e. rogers of aber meurig is my authority. [ ] so i had it many years ago from an old woman from llangeitho, and so mr. j. g. evans remembers his mother repeating it; but now it is made into llan dewi brefi braith, with the mutations disregarded. [ ] see the archæologia cambrensis for , p. . [ ] see ib. p. . i have ascertained on the best authority the identity of the present owner of the horn, though i have not succeeded in eliciting from him any reply to my inquiries. i conclude that there is something wrong with the postal service in my native county. [ ] several passages bearing on the word bannog have been brought together in silvan evans' geiriadur. he gives the meaning as 'high, lofty, prominent, conspicuous.' the word is derived from ban, 'a summit or peak,' plural bannau, so common in the names of hills and mountains in south wales--as in y fan in carmarthenshire, bannwchdeni (p. ) in breconshire, pen y bannau near pont rhyd fendigaid in cardiganshire, bannau brycheiniog and bannau sir gaer, the mountains called in english the beacons of breconshire and carmarthenshire respectively. in north wales we have it possibly in the compound tryfan, which the mapsters will have us call tryfaen; and the corresponding word in scotch gaelic appears in such names as ben nevis and the like, while in irish the word benn meant a horn or peak. i am, nevertheless, not at all sure that ychen bannog meant horned oxen or even tall and conspicuous oxen; for there is a welsh word man, meaning a spot or mark (latin menda), and the adjective was mannawc, mannog, 'spotted, marked, particoloured.' now in the soft mutation all four words--ban, bannog, and man, mannog--would begin with f = v, which might help to confusion between them. this may be illustrated in a way from williams' seint greal (pp. - ), where gwalchmai has a dream in which he sees bulls with spots or patches of colour on them, except three only which were 'without any spot in the world' (neb ryw vann or byt), or as it is also put 'without spot' (heb vann). this word vann, applied to the colour of the bulls, comes from the radical form mann; and the adjective was mannawc or mannog, which would mean spotted, particoloured, or having patches of colour. now the oxen of welsh legends are also sometimes called ychen mannog (pp. - ), and it is possible, that, whichever way the term is written, it should be interpreted to mean spotted, marked, or particoloured oxen. i take it also that llan dewi frefi fraith was meant as synonymous with llan dewi frefi fannog, which did not fit the rhyme. lastly, the dyfed use of the saying fel dau ych bannog, 'like two bannog oxen,' in the sense of 'equal and inseparable companions' (as instanced in the geiriadur), sounds like the antithesis of the passage in the kulhwch (mabinogion, p. ). for there we have words to the following effect: 'though thou shouldst get that, there is something which thou wilt not get, namely the two oxen of bannog, the one on the other side of the bannog mountain and the other on this side, and to bring them together to draw the same plough. they are, to wit, nynio and peibio, whom god fashioned into oxen for their sins.' here the difficulty contemplated was not to separate the two, but to bring them together to work under the same yoke. this is more in harmony with the story of the mad quarrel between the two brother kings bearing those names as mentioned above. [ ] see the revue celtique, iii. , after gruter, , . [ ] an important paper on the tarvos trigaranus, from the pen of m. salomon reinach, will be found in the revue celtique, xviii. - ; and m. d'a. de jubainville's remarkable equations are to be read in the same periodical, xix. - : see also xx. - . [ ] this, we are told, was a stone with a hollow in it for pounding corn, so as to separate the husks from the grain; and such a stone stood formerly somewhere near the door of every farm house in scotland. [ ] the editor here explains in a note that 'this was a common saying formerly, when people were heard to regret trifles.' [ ] i have heard of this belief in wales late in the sixties; but the presence was assumed to be that of a witch, not of a fairy. [ ] the word twt, 'tidy,' is another vocable which has found its way into wales from the western counties of england; and though its meaning is more universally that of 'tidy or natty,' the term gwas twt, which in north cardiganshire means a youth who is ready to run on all kinds of errands, would seem to bring us to its earlier meaning of the french tout--as if gwas twt might be rendered a 'garçon à tout'--which survives as tote in the counties of gloucester and hereford, as i am informed by professor wright. possibly, however, one may prefer to connect twt with the nautical english word taut; but we want more light. in any case one may venture to say that colloquial welsh swarms with words whose origin is to be sought outside the principality. [ ] see folk-lore for , pp. - . [ ] ibid. for , p. , where one will find this rhyme the subject of a note--rendered useless by a false reference--by köhler; see also the same volume, p. , where mr. kirby gives more lines of the rhyme. [ ] see choice notes from 'notes and queries,' p. . [ ] a number of instructive instances will be found mentioned, and discussed in his wonted and lucid fashion, by mr. clodd in his tom tit tot, pp. - . [ ] the welsh spelling is caws pob, 'baked (or roasted) cheese,' so called in parts of south wales, such as carmarthenshire, whereas in north wales it is caws pobi. it is best known to englishmen as 'welsh rabbit,' which superior persons 'ruling the roast' in our kitchens choose to make into rarebit: how they would deal with 'scotch woodcock' and 'oxford hare,' i do not know. i should have mentioned that copies of the hundred mery talys are exceedingly scarce, and that the above, which is the seventy-sixth in the collection, has here been copied from the cymmrodor, iii. - , where we have the following sapient note:--'cause bobe, it will be observed, is st. peter's rendering of the phrase caws wedi ei bobi. the chief of the apostles apparently had only a rather imperfect knowledge of welsh, which is not to be wondered at, as we know that even his hebrew was far from giving satisfaction to the priests of the capital.' from these words one can only say that st. peter would seem to have known welsh far better than the author of that note, and that he had acquired it from natives of south wales, perhaps from the neighbourhood of kidwelly. i have to thank my friend mr. james cotton for a version of the cheese story in the bodleian library, namely in malone ms. (p. ), where a certain master at winchester school has put it into elegiacs which make st. peter cry out with the desired effect: tostus io walli, tostus modo caseus. [ ] see choice notes from 'notes and queries,' pp. - . [ ] for instance, when cúchulainn had fallen asleep under the effect of fairy music, fergus warned his friends that he was not to be disturbed, as he seemed to be dreaming and seeing a vision: see windisch's irische texte, p. ; also the revue celtique, v. . for parallels to the two stories in this paragraph, see tylor's first chapter on animism in his primitive culture, and especially the legend of king gunthram, i. . [ ] see mr. gomme's presidential address to the folk-lore society, printed in folk-lore for , pp. - . [ ] see sale's preliminary discourse to his translation of the koran, § iv. [ ] perhaps we may regard this as the more goidelic account of blodeuwed's origin: at any rate, traces of a different one have been noticed in a note at p. above. [ ] one version of it is given in the myvyrian archaiology, i. - ; and two other versions are to be found in the cymmrodor, viii. - , where it is suggested that the author was iolo goch, who flourished in the fourteenth century. see also my arthurian legend, pp. - . [ ] see also the notes on these passages, given in san-marte's edition of geoffrey, pp. , - , and his beiträge zur bretonischen und celtisch germanischen heldensage (quedlinburg and leipsic, ), p. . [ ] see choice notes, pp. - . [ ] see wood-martin's pagan ireland (london, ), p. . [ ] see choice notes, p. , where it is also stated that the country people in yorkshire used to give the name of souls to certain night-flying white moths. see also the athenæum, no. , oct. , . [ ] for this also i am indebted to wood-martin's book, p. . [ ] see the book of the dun cow, fo. , and windisch's irische texte, pp. - . an abstract of the story will be found in the hibbert lectures on celtic heathendom, p. . [ ] see the book of the dun cow, fo. a- a; windisch's irische texte, pp. - , more especially pp. - ; also my arthurian legend, pp. - . [ ] see the book of taliessin, poem vii, in skene's four ancient books of wales, ii. - ; also poem viii, p. et seq. [ ] some account of this process will be found in elton's origins of english history (london, ), p. , where he has drawn on martin's description of the western islands of scotland, published in : see pp. - . [ ] for one or two instances of the nomenclature in question, see pp. - above. [ ] sywedyd is probably a word of goidelic origin: compare irish súi, 'a sage,' genitive súad, and derivative súithe, 'wisdom.' stokes suggests the derivation su-vet, in which case súi = su-vi, for su-viss = su-vet-s, and sú-ithe = suvetia, while the welsh sywedyd is formally su-vetios or su-vetiios. welsh has also syw, from súi, like dryw, 'a druid,' from goidelic drúi. syw, it is true, now only means elegant, tidy; but dr. davies of mallwyd believed its original signification to have been 'sapiens, doctus, peritus.' the root vet is most probably to be identified with the wet of med. welsh gwet-id, 'a saying,' dy-wawt, 'dixit,' whence it appears that the bases were vet and vat, with the latter of which irish fáith, 'a poet or prophet,' latin vates, agrees, as also the welsh gwawd, 'poetry, sarcasm,' and in mod. welsh, 'any kind of derision.' in the book of taliessin syw has, besides the plurals sywyon and sywydon (skene, ii. , ), possibly an older plural, sywet (p. ) = su-vet-es, while for súithe = su-vetia we seem to have sywyd or sewyd (pp. , , ); but all the passages in point are more or less obscure, i must confess. [ ] see the book of taliessin, in skene's four ancient books of wales, ii. - , , , - , . [ ] as, for instance, in the account given of uath mac imomain in fled bricrenn: see the book of the dun cow, fo. b, and windisch's irische texte, p. . [ ] the book of the dun cow, fo. a, and the book of leinster, fo. b: compare also the story of tuan mac cairill in the book of the dun cow, fo. b, where the tuatha dé danann are represented as tuatha dee ocus ande, 'the tribes of gods and not-gods,' to whom one of the manuscripts adds a people of legendary ireland called the galiúin. see the story as recently edited by professor kuno meyer in nutt's voyage of bran, ii. - , where, however, the sense of § with its allusion to the fall of lucifer is missed in the translation. it should read, i think, somewhat as follows:--'of these are the tuatha dee and ande, whose origin is unknown to the learned, except that they think it probable, judging from the intelligence of the tuatha and their superiority in knowledge, that they belong to the exiles who came from heaven.' [ ] see evans' black book of carmarthen, fo. b; also the mabinogion, pp. , . the irish lucht cumachtai would be in welsh literally rendered llwyth cyfoeth, 'the cyfoeth tribe or host,' as it were. for cyfoeth, in med. welsh, meant power or dominion, whence cyfoethog, 'powerful,' and holl-gyfoethog, 'almighty'; but in mod. welsh cyfoeth and cyfoethog have been degraded to mean 'riches' and 'rich' respectively. now if we dropped the prefix cum from the irish cumachtai, and its equivalent cyf from the welsh cyfoeth, we should have lucht cumachtai reduced to an approximate analogy to llwyth oeth, 'the oeth tribe,' for which we have the attested equivalent teulu oeth, 'the oeth household or family.' oeth, however, seems to have meant powerful rather than power, and this seems to have been its force in gwalchmai's poetry of the twelfth century, where i find it twice: see the myvyrian arch., i. b, a. in the former passage we have oeth dybydaf o dybwyf ryd, 'i shall be powerful if i be free,' and in the latter oeth ym uthrwyd, 'mightily was i astonished or dismayed.' an-oeth was the negative of oeth, and meant weak, feeble, frivolous: so we find its plural, anoetheu, applied in the story of kulhwch to the strange quests on which kulhwch had to engage himself and his friends, before he could hope to obtain olwen to be his wife. this has its parallel in the use of the adjective gwan, 'weak,' in the following instance among them:--arthur and his men were ready to set out in search of mabon son of modron, who was said to have been kidnapped, when only three nights old, from between his mother modron and the wall; and though this had happened a fabulously long time before arthur was born, nothing had ever been since heard of mabon's fate. now arthur's men said that they would set out in search of him, but they considered that arthur should not accompany them on feeble quests of the kind: their words were (p. ), ny elli di uynet ath lu y geissa peth mor uan ar rei hynn, 'thou canst not go with thy army to seek a thing so weak as these are.' here we have uan as the synonym of an-oeth; but oeth ac anoeth probably became a phrase which was seldom analysed or understood; so we have besides teulu oeth ac anoeth, a caer oeth ac anoeth, or fortress of o. and a., and a carchar caer oeth ac anoeth, or the prison of caer o. and a., which is more shortly designated also carchar oeth ac anoeth, or the prison of o. and a. a late account of the building of that strange prison and fortress by manawydan is given in the iolo mss., pp. - , , and it is needless to point out that manawydan, son of llyr, was no other than the manannán mac lir of irish literature, the greatest wizard among the tuatha dé or tuatha dé danann; for the practical equivalence of those names is proved by the book of the dun cow, fo. b. for further details about oeth and anoeth, silvan evans' geiriadur may be consulted, s. v. anoeth, where instances are cited of the application of those terms to tilled land and wild or uncultivated land. here the words seem to have the secondary meanings of profitable and unprofitable lands, respectively: compare a somewhat analogous use of grym, 'strength, force,' in a passage relating to the mutilated horses of matholwch--hyt nad oed rym a ellit ar meirch, 'so that no use was possible in the case of the horses,' meaning that they were of no use whatever, or that they had been done for: see the oxford mabinogion, p. , and lady charlotte guest's, iii. , where the translation 'and rendered them useless' is barely strong enough. [ ] it is right, however, to state that m. d'a. de jubainville's account of the views of erigena is challenged by mr. nutt, ii. . [ ] for instance, by silvan evans in his geiriadur, where, s. v. dihaed, he suggests 'unmerited' or 'undeserved' as conveying the sense meant. [ ] the reader will find them quoted under the word druida in holder's alt-celtischer sprachschatz: see also m. alexandre bertrand's religion des gaulois, especially the chapter entitled les druides, pp. - , and nutt's voyage of bran, ii. - . [ ] see valerius maximus, ii. . . [ ] see the book of the dun cow, fo. a. [ ] notably johannes schmidt in kuhn's zeitschrift, xxiii. , where he gives the following gradations of the stem in question:-- . anman; . anaman; . naman; . naman. [ ] see clodd's tom tit tot, p. . [ ] tom tit tot, p. . [ ] the oxford mabinogion, p. . [ ] the oxford mabinogion, p. . [ ] as to irish, i would not lay much stress on the question 'what is your name?' being put, in a fourteenth or fifteenth century version of the french story of fierabras, as ca hainm tú?--literally, 'what name art thou?' see the revue celtique, xix. . it may be mentioned here that the irish writers of glossaries had a remarkable way of appearing to identify words and things. thus, for instance, cormac has cruimther .i. gædelg indi as presbyter, which o'donovan (edited by stokes) has translated, p. , as 'cruimther, i. e. the gaelic of presbyter': literally it would be rather 'of the thing which is presbyter.' similarly, cormac's explanation of the irish aiminn, now aoibhinn, 'delightful,' runs thus in latin, aimind ab eo quod est amoenum, 'from the word amoenus,' literally, 'from that which is amoenus.' but this construction is a favourite one of latin grammarians, and instances will be found in professor lindsay's latin language (oxford, ), pp. , , , . on calling his attention to it, he kindly informed me that it can be traced as far back as varro, from whose lingua latina, vi. , he cites meridies ab eo quod medius dies. so in this matter, irish writers have merely imitated their latin models; and one detects a trace of the same imitation in some of the old welsh glosses, for instance in the juvencus codex, where we have xps explained as irhinn issid crist, 'that which is christ,' evidently meaning, 'the word christos or christus.' so with regia, rendered by gulat, 'a state or country,' in celsi thronus est cui regia caeli; which is glossed issit padiu itau gulat, 'that is the word gulat for him' = 'he means his country': see kuhn's beiträge, iv. , . [ ] some instances in point, accompanied with comments on certain eminently instructive practices and theories of the church, will be found in clodd's tom tit tot, pp. - . [ ] for some instances of name-giving by the druid, the reader may consult the welsh people, pp. - ; and druidic baptism will be found alluded to in stokes' edition of coir anmann, and in stokes and windisch's irische texte, iii. , . see also the revue celtique, xix. . [ ] see the welsh people, more especially pp. - , where it has been attempted to discuss this question more at length. [ ] see stokes' cormac's glossary, translated by o'donovan, p. , and o'curry's manners and customs of the ancient irish, ii. - . [ ] see mind for , p. : the review is by mr. a. t. myers, and the title of the book noticed is la pathologie des Émotions, Études physiologiques et cliniques, par charles féré, médecin de bicêtre (paris, ). [ ] see frazer's golden bough, i. , where a few most instructive instances are given. [ ] see guest's mabinogion, iii. , where, however, dôn is wrongly treated as a male. [ ] one has, however, to admit that the same agency may also mar the picture. since the above was written i have read in stokes' festschrift, pp. - , a very interesting article by l. chr. stern, in which he discusses some of the difficulties attaching to the term tuatha dé danann. among other things he suggests that there was a certain amount of confusion between danann and dána, genitive of dán, 'art or profession'--the word meant also 'lot or destiny,' being probably of the same origin as the latin donum, in welsh dawn, which means a gift, and especially 'the gift of the gab.' but it would invert the natural sequence to suppose any such a formula as tuatha dé dána to have preceded tuatha dé danann; for why should anybody substitute an obscure vocable danann for dána of well-known meaning? dr. stern has some doubts as to the welsh dôn being a female; but it would have been more satisfactory if he had proved his surmise, or at any rate shown that dôn has nothing to do with danann or donann. i am satisfied with such a passage in the mabinogi of math as that where gwydion, addressing math, describes arianrhod, daughter of dôn, in the words, dy nith uerch dy ch aer, 'thy niece daughter of thy sister': see the mabinogion, p. , and, for similar references to other children of dôn, consult pp. and . arianrhod is in the older triads, i. , ii. , called daughter of beli, whom one can only have regarded as her father. so for the present i continue to accept stokes' rendering of tuatha dé danann as 'the folks of the goddess danu.' [ ] see the oxford mabinogion, p. ; guest's trans., ii. . the combination occurs also in the book of aneurin: see stephens' gododin (london, ), p. . [ ] it will be noticed that there is a discrepancy between the gutturals of these two words: tyngu, 'to swear' (o. ir. tongu, 'i swear'), has ng--the kulhwch spelling, tynghaf, should probably be tyngaf--while tynghed and its irish equivalent imply an nc. i do not know how to explain this, though i cannot doubt the fact of the words being treated as cognate. a somewhat similar difference, however, occurs in welsh dwyn, 'to bear, carry, steal,' and dwg, 'carries, bears': see the revue celtique, vi. - . [ ] see the oxford mabinogion, p. , and guest's trans., ii. , where it is rendered 'a wife as a helpmate,' which is more commonplace than suggestive. [ ] la cité antique (paris, ), p. ; see also joachim marquardt's privatleben der römer (leipsic, ), pp. - , and among the references there given may be mentioned dionysius of halicarnassus, ii. . [ ] see vigfusson and powell's corpus poeticum boreale, i. , - , ; the prose edda in edda snorronis sturlæi (copenhagen, ), i. - , , , - ; and simrock's edda (stuttgart, ), pp. - , - , , - . [ ] two versions of a story to account for the ultonian couvade have been published with a translation into german, by prof. windisch, in the berichte der k. sächs. gesellschaft der wissenschaften (phil.-hist. classe) for , pp. et seq. sundry references to the couvade will also be found in my hibbert lectures, where certain mythological suggestions made with reference to it require to be reconsidered. but when touching on this point it occurred to me that the wholesale couvade of the ultonian braves, at one and the same time of the year, implied that the birth of ultonian children, or at any rate those of them that were to be reared, took place (in some period or other of the history of their race) at a particular season of the year, namely, about the beginning of the winter, that is when food would be most abundant. i have since been confirmed in this view by perusing westermarck's work on the history of human marriage, and by reading especially his second chapter entitled 'a human pairing season in primitive times.' for there i find a considerable body of instances in point, together with a summary treatment of the whole question. but in the case of promiscuity, such as originally prevailed doubtless at the ultonian court, the question what men were to go into couvade could only be settled by the confinement of them all, wherein we have an alternative if not an additional reason for a simultaneous couvade. [ ] see strabo, iii. , and diodorus, v. . [ ] for some more detailed remarks on the reckoning of descent by birth, see the welsh people, pp. et seq. [ ] in welsh eli means 'ointment,' probably so called from spells pronounced over it when used as a remedy. in the twrch trwyth story (oxford mabinogion, p. ) one of arthur's men bears the curious designation of reid n uab eli atuer, which might be englished 'r. son of the restoring ointment,' unless one should rather say 'of the restoring enchantment.' [ ] see the book of the dun cow, fo. b, and windisch's irische texte, pp. - . the rebirth of lug as cúchulainn has been touched upon in my hibbert lectures, p. ; but since then the whole question of rebirth has been discussed at length in nutt and meyer's volumes entitled the voyage of bran (london, ). [ ] tylor's primitive culture, ii. , where he gives a reference to gustav klemm's culturgeschichte, iii. , and klemm's authority proves to be jessen, whose notes are given in a 'tractatus' bound with knud leem de lapponibus finmarchiæ (copenhagen, ): jessen's words in point read as follows, p. :--et baptismum quidem, quem ipsi laugo, i. e. lavacrum appellabant, quod attinet, observandum occurrit, foeminam lapponicam, jam partui vicinam, atque in eo statu sarakkæ impensius commendatam, de nomine, nascituro infanti imponendo, per insomnia plerumque a jabmekio quodam admonitam fuisse et simul de jabmekio illo, qui, ut ipsi quidem loqui amarunt, in hoc puero resuscitandus foret, edoctam. hujusmodi per insomnia factas admonitiones niëgost nuncuparunt lappones. si gravida mulier a jabmekio hac ratione edocta non fuerit, recens nati infantis vel parenti vel cognatis incubuit, per to myran, in tympano, securi vel balteo susceptum, vel etiam noaaidum consulendo, explorare, quo potissimum nomine infans appellandus esset. in the body of leem's work, p. , one reads, that if the child sickens or cries after baptism, this is taken to prove that the right ancestor has not been found; but as he must be discovered and his name imposed on the child, resort is had to a fresh baptism to correct the effects of the previous one. [ ] see holder's alt-celtischer sprachschatz, s. v. lugus; also the index to my hibbert lectures, s. v. lleu, lug, lugoves. [ ] for more on this subject see the chapter on the pictish question in the welsh people, pp. - . [ ] it is right to say that the story represents the fairies as living under the rule of a rí, a title usually rendered by 'king'; but rí (genitive rig) was probably at one time applicable to either sex, just as we find gaulish names like biturix and visurix borne by women. the wonder, however, is that such a line as that just quoted has not been edited out of the verses long ago, just as one misses any equivalent for it in joyce's english expansion of the story in his old celtic romances, pp. - . compare, however, the land of the women in the voyage of maildun (joyce, pp. - ), and in meyer and nutt's voyage of bran, i. - . [ ] this conclusion has been given in a note at the foot of p. of the welsh people; but for a variety of instances to illustrate it see hartland's chapters on supernatural birth in his legend of perseus. [ ] see frazer's article on 'the origin of totemism' in the fortnightly review for april, , p. . the passage to which it refers will be found at p. of spencer and gillen's volume, where one reads as follows:--'added to this we have amongst the arunta, luritcha, and ilpirra tribes, and probably also amongst others such as the warramunga, the idea firmly held that the child is not the direct result of intercourse, that it may come without this, which merely, as it were, prepares the mother for the reception and birth also of an already-formed spirit child who inhabits one of the local totem centres. time after time we have questioned them on this point, and always received the reply that the child was not the direct result of intercourse.' it is curious to note how readily the australian notion here presented would develop into that of the lapps, as given at p. from jessen's notes. [ ] this feature of welsh has escaped m. de charencey, in his instructive letter on 'numération basque et celtique,' in no. of the bulletin de la soc. de linguistique de paris, pp. cxv-cxix. in passing, i may be allowed to mention a numerical curiosity which occurs in old irish: it has probably an important historical significance. i refer to the word for 'seven men' occurring sometimes as morfeser, which means, as it were, a magnus seviratus or 'big sixer.' [ ] the non-welsh names of the fairy ancestress ought possibly to lead one to discover the origin of that settlement; and a careful study perhaps of the language of the belsiaid or bellisians, if their welsh has any dialectic peculiarities, might throw further light on their past. [ ] our stories frequently delight in giving the fairy women fine dresses and long trains; but i would rely more on the ystrad meurig smith's account (p. ), and the case of the pennant fairy who tears to shreds the gown offered her (p. ). [ ] the difference between mod. welsh cor and breton korr is one of spelling, for the reformed orthography of welsh words only doubles the r where it is dwelt on in the accented syllable of a longer word: in other terms, when that syllable closes with the consonant and the next syllable begins with it. thus cor has, as its derivatives, cór-rach, 'a dwarf,' plural co-ráchod, cór-ryn, 'a male dwarf,' plural co-rýnnod. some of these enter into place-names, such as cwm corryn near llanaelhaearn (p. ) and cwm corryn draining into the vale of neath; so possibly with corwen for cor-waen, in the sense of 'the fairies' meadow.' cor and corryn are also used for the spider, as in gwe'r cor or gwe'r corryn, 'a spider's web,' the spider being so called on account of its spinning, an occupation in which the fairies are represented likewise frequently engaged; not to mention that gossamer (gwawn) is also sometimes regarded as a product of the fairy loom (p. ). the derivation of cor is not satisfactorily cleared up: it has been conjectured to be related to a med. irish word cert, 'small, little,' and latin curtus, 'shortened or mutilated.' to me this means that the origin of the word still remains to be discovered. [ ] for edern's dwarf see foerster's erec, lines - and passim, the oxford mabinogion, pp. - , and guest's trans., ii. - ; and for peredur's the latter books, pp. - and i. - respectively. [ ] the story of canrig (or cantrig) bwt is current at llanberis, but i do not recollect seeing it in print: i had it years ago from my father-in-law. the statement as to carchar cynric rwth comes from william williams' observations on the snowdon mountains (london, ). the bwlch y rhiw felen legend was read by me to the british archæological association at its meeting at llangollen, and it was printed in its journal for december, . it is right to say that the llangollen story calls the woman a giantess, but i attach no importance to that, as the picture is blurred and treated in part allegorically. lastly, the use of the word carchar, 'prison,' in the term carchar cynric rwth recalls carchar oeth ac anoeth, or 'the prison of oeth and anoeth,' p. above: the word would appear to have been selected because in both cases the structure was underground. [ ] see the acta sanctorum, april , where one finds published the latin life written by felix not long after guthlac's death. see also an anglo-saxon version, which has been edited with a translation by ch. w. goodwin (london, ). [ ] in connexion with them mr. bullock hall reminds me of icklingham, in west suffolk; and there seem to be several ickletons, and an ickleford, most or all of them, i am told, on the icknield way. the name icel, whose genitive icles is the form in the original life, has probably been inferred from the longer word iclingas, and inserted in due course in the mercian pedigree, where it occupies the sixth place in descent from woden. [ ] since the above was written, dr. ripley's important work on the races of europe (london, ) has reached me, but too late to study. i notice, however, that he speaks of an island of ancient population to the north of london and extending over most of the counties of hertford, buckingham, bedford, rutland, and northampton, as far as those of cambridge and lincoln. a considerable portion of this area must have been within the boundaries of coritanian territory, and it is now characterized, according to him, by nigrescence, short stature, and rarity of suicide, such as remind him of wales and cornwall: see his maps and pp. , , . [ ] see fiacc's hymn in stokes' goidelica, p. , l. . [ ] the welsh passages unfortunately fail to show whether it was pronounced sidi or sidi: should it prove the latter, i should regard it as the irish word borrowed. [ ] skene's four ancient books of wales, ii. - , - . [ ] for more about picts and pechts see some most instructive papers recently published by mr. david macritchie, such as 'memories of the picts' in the scottish antiquary, last january, 'underground dwellings' in scottish notes and queries, last march, and 'fairy mounds' in the antiquary, last february and march. [ ] see p. above, where, however, the object of the ogams written on four twigs of yew has been misconceived. i think now that they formed simply so many letters of inquiry addressed by dalán to other druids in different parts of ireland. we seem to have here a ray of light on the early history of ogam writing. [ ] see the book of the dun cow, fo. b. [ ] see the book of leinster, fo. a. [ ] corrguinigh occurs in the story of 'the second battle of moytura,' where stokes has rendered it 'sorcerers' in the revue celtique, xii. ; and corrguinacht heads an article in o'davoren's glossary, published in stokes' three irish glossaries, p. , where it is defined as beth for leth cois for leth laimh for leth suil ag denam na glaime dicinn, 'to be on one foot and with one hand and one eye doing the glám dicenn.' the glám dicenn was seemingly the special elaboration of the art of making pied de nez, which we have tragically illustrated in the case of caier. [ ] in appendix b to the welsh people, pp. - . [ ] see rosellini's monumenti dell' egitto (pisa, ), vol. i. plates clvi, clx, and maspero's histoire ancienne (paris, ), ii. . [ ] one may now consult nicholson's paper on 'the language of the continental picts': see meyer and stern's zeitschrift, iii. - , - , and note especially his reference to herodian, iii. , § . for chortonicum see die althochdeutschen glossen (edited by steinmeyer and sievers), iii. ; also my paper on 'the celts and the other aryans of the p and q groups' read before the philological society, february , , p. . [ ] i am chiefly indebted to my friend professor a. c. haddon for references to information as to the dwarf races of prehistoric times. i find also that he, among others, has anticipated me in my theory as to the origins of the fairies: witness the following extract from the syllabus of a lecture delivered by him at cardiff in on fairy tales:--'what are the fairies?--legendary origin of the fairies. it is evident from fairy literature that there is a mixture of the possible and the impossible, of fact and fancy. part of fairydom refers to ( ) spirits that never were embodied: other fairies are ( ) spirits of environment, nature or local spirits, and household or domestic spirits; ( ) spirits of the organic world, spirits of plants, and spirits of animals; ( ) spirits of men or ghosts; and ( ) witches and wizards, or men possessed with other spirits. all these and possibly other elements enter into the fanciful aspect of fairyland, but there is a large residuum of real occurrences; these point to a clash of races, and we may regard many of these fairy sagas as stories told by men of the iron age of events which happened to men of the bronze age in their conflicts with men of the neolithic age, and possibly these, too, handed on traditions of the palæolithic age.' [ ] see the berlin zeitschrift für ethnologie for , vol. xxvi. pp. - , which are devoted to an elaborate paper by dr. jul. kollmann, entitled 'das schweitzersbild bei schaffhausen und pygmäen in europa.' it closes with a long list of books and articles to be consulted on the subject. bulfinch's mythology the age of fable the age of chivalry legends of charlemagne by thomas bulfinch complete in one volume [editor's note: the etext contains only the age of chivalry] publishers' preface no new edition of bulfinch's classic work can be considered complete without some notice of the american scholar to whose wide erudition and painstaking care it stands as a perpetual monument. "the age of fable" has come to be ranked with older books like "pilgrim's progress," "gulliver's travels," "the arabian nights," "robinson crusoe," and five or six other productions of world-wide renown as a work with which every one must claim some acquaintance before his education can be called really complete. many readers of the present edition will probably recall coming in contact with the work as children, and, it may be added, will no doubt discover from a fresh perusal the source of numerous bits of knowledge that have remained stored in their minds since those early years. yet to the majority of this great circle of readers and students the name bulfinch in itself has no significance. thomas bulfinch was a native of boston, mass., where he was born in . his boyhood was spent in that city, and he prepared for college in the boston schools. he finished his scholastic training at harvard college, and after taking his degree was for a period a teacher in his home city. for a long time later in life he was employed as an accountant in the boston merchants' bank. his leisure time he used for further pursuit of the classical studies which he had begun at harvard, and his chief pleasure in life lay in writing out the results of his reading, in simple, condensed form for young or busy readers. the plan he followed in this work, to give it the greatest possible usefulness, is set forth in the author's preface. "age of fable," first edition, ; "the age of chivalry," ; "the boy inventor," ; "legends of charlemagne, or romance of the middle ages," ; "poetry of the age of fable," ; "oregon and eldorado, or romance of the rivers," . in this complete edition of his mythological and legendary lore "the age of fable," "the age of chivalry," and "legends of charlemagne" are included. scrupulous care has been taken to follow the original text of bulfinch, but attention should be called to some additional sections which have been inserted to add to the rounded completeness of the work, and which the publishers believe would meet with the sanction of the author himself, as in no way intruding upon his original plan but simply carrying it out in more complete detail. the section on northern mythology has been enlarged by a retelling of the epic of the "nibelungen lied," together with a summary of wagner's version of the legend in his series of music-dramas. under the head of "hero myths of the british race" have been included outlines of the stories of beowulf, cuchulain, hereward the wake, and robin hood. of the verse extracts which occur throughout the text, thirty or more have been added from literature which has appeared since bulfinch's time, extracts that he would have been likely to quote had he personally supervised the new edition. finally, the index has been thoroughly overhauled and, indeed, remade. all the proper names in the work have been entered, with references to the pages where they occur, and a concise explanation or definition of each has been given. thus what was a mere list of names in the original has been enlarged into a small classical and mythological dictionary, which it is hoped will prove valuable for reference purposes not necessarily connected with "the age of fable." acknowledgments are due the writings of dr. oliver huckel for information on the point of wagner's rendering of the nibelungen legend, and m. i. ebbutt's authoritative volume on "hero myths and legends of the british race," from which much of the information concerning the british heroes has been obtained author's preface if no other knowledge deserves to be called useful but that which helps to enlarge our possessions or to raise our station in society, then mythology has no claim to the appellation. but if that which tends to make us happier and better can be called useful, then we claim that epithet for our subject. for mythology is the handmaid of literature; and literature is one of the best allies of virtue and promoters of happiness. without a knowledge of mythology much of the elegant literature of our own language cannot be understood and appreciated. when byron calls rome "the niobe of nations," or says of venice, "she looks a sea-cybele fresh from ocean," he calls up to the mind of one familiar with our subject, illustrations more vivid and striking than the pencil could furnish, but which are lost to the reader ignorant of mythology. milton abounds in similar allusions. the short poem "comus" contains more than thirty such, and the ode "on the morning of the nativity" half as many. through "paradise lost" they are scattered profusely. this is one reason why we often hear persons by no means illiterate say that they cannot enjoy milton. but were these persons to add to their more solid acquirements the easy learning of this little volume, much of the poetry of milton which has appeared to them "harsh and crabbed" would be found "musical as is apollo's lute." our citations, taken from more than twenty-five poets, from spenser to longfellow, will show how general has been the practice of borrowing illustrations from mythology. the prose writers also avail themselves of the same source of elegant and suggestive illustration. one can hardly take up a number of the "edinburgh" or "quarterly review" without meeting with instances. in macaulay's article on milton there are twenty such. but how is mythology to be taught to one who does not learn it through the medium of the languages of greece and rome? to devote study to a species of learning which relates wholly to false marvels and obsolete faiths is not to be expected of the general reader in a practical age like this. the time even of the young is claimed by so many sciences of facts and things that little can be spared for set treatises on a science of mere fancy. but may not the requisite knowledge of the subject be acquired by reading the ancient poets in translations? we reply, the field is too extensive for a preparatory course; and these very translations require some previous knowledge of the subject to make them intelligible. let any one who doubts it read the first page of the "aeneid," and see what he can make of "the hatred of juno," the "decree of the parcae," the "judgment of paris," and the "honors of ganymede," without this knowledge. shall we be told that answers to such queries may be found in notes, or by a reference to the classical dictionary? we reply, the interruption of one's reading by either process is so annoying that most readers prefer to let an allusion pass unapprehended rather than submit to it. moreover, such sources give us only the dry facts without any of the charm of the original narrative; and what is a poetical myth when stripped of its poetry? the story of ceyx and halcyone, which fills a chapter in our book, occupies but eight lines in the best (smith's) classical dictionary; and so of others. our work is an attempt to solve this problem, by telling the stories of mythology in such a manner as to make them a source of amusement. we have endeavored to tell them correctly, according to the ancient authorities, so that when the reader finds them referred to he may not be at a loss to recognize the reference. thus we hope to teach mythology not as a study, but as a relaxation from study; to give our work the charm of a story-book, yet by means of it to impart a knowledge of an important branch of education. the index at the end will adapt it to the purposes of reference, and make it a classical dictionary for the parlor. most of the classical legends in "stories of gods and heroes" are derived from ovid and virgil. they are not literally translated, for, in the author's opinion, poetry translated into literal prose is very unattractive reading. neither are they in verse, as well for other reasons as from a conviction that to translate faithfully under all the embarrassments of rhyme and measure is impossible. the attempt has been made to tell the stories in prose, preserving so much of the poetry as resides in the thoughts and is separable from the language itself, and omitting those amplifications which are not suited to the altered form. the northern mythological stories are copied with some abridgment from mallet's "northern antiquities." these chapters, with those on oriental and egyptian mythology, seemed necessary to complete the subject, though it is believed these topics have not usually been presented in the same volume with the classical fables. the poetical citations so freely introduced are expected to answer several valuable purposes. they will tend to fix in memory the leading fact of each story, they will help to the attainment of a correct pronunciation of the proper names, and they will enrich the memory with many gems of poetry, some of them such as are most frequently quoted or alluded to in reading and conversation. having chosen mythology as connected with literature for our province, we have endeavored to omit nothing which the reader of elegant literature is likely to find occasion for. such stories and parts of stories as are offensive to pure taste and good morals are not given. but such stories are not often referred to, and if they occasionally should be, the english reader need feel no mortification in confessing his ignorance of them. our work is not for the learned, nor for the theologian, nor for the philosopher, but for the reader of english literature, of either sex, who wishes to comprehend the allusions so frequently made by public speakers, lecturers, essayists, and poets, and those which occur in polite conversation. in the "stories of gods and heroes" the compiler has endeavored to impart the pleasures of classical learning to the english reader, by presenting the stories of pagan mythology in a form adapted to modern taste. in "king arthur and his knights" and "the mabinogeon" the attempt has been made to treat in the same way the stories of the second "age of fable," the age which witnessed the dawn of the several states of modern europe. it is believed that this presentation of a literature which held unrivalled sway over the imaginations of our ancestors, for many centuries, will not be without benefit to the reader, in addition to the amusement it may afford. the tales, though not to be trusted for their facts, are worthy of all credit as pictures of manners; and it is beginning to be held that the manners and modes of thinking of an age are a more important part of its history than the conflicts of its peoples, generally leading to no result. besides this, the literature of romance is a treasure-house of poetical material, to which modern poets frequently resort. the italian poets, dante and ariosto, the english, spenser, scott, and tennyson, and our own longfellow and lowell, are examples of this. these legends are so connected with each other, so consistently adapted to a group of characters strongly individualized in arthur, launcelot, and their compeers, and so lighted up by the fires of imagination and invention, that they seem as well adapted to the poet's purpose as the legends of the greek and roman mythology. and if every well-educated young person is expected to know the story of the golden fleece, why is the quest of the sangreal less worthy of his acquaintance? or if an allusion to the shield of achilles ought not to pass unapprehended, why should one to excalibar, the famous sword of arthur?-- "of arthur, who, to upper light restored, with that terrific sword, which yet he brandishes for future war, shall lift his country's fame above the polar star." [footnote: wordsworth] it is an additional recommendation of our subject, that it tends to cherish in our minds the idea of the source from which we sprung. we are entitled to our full share in the glories and recollections of the land of our forefathers, down to the time of colonization thence. the associations which spring from this source must be fruitful of good influences; among which not the least valuable is the increased enjoyment which such associations afford to the american traveller when he visits england, and sets his foot upon any of her renowned localities. the legends of charlemagne and his peers are necessary to complete the subject. in an age when intellectual darkness enveloped western europe, a constellation of brilliant writers arose in italy. of these, pulci (born in ), boiardo ( ), and ariosto ( ) took for their subjects the romantic fables which had for many ages been transmitted in the lays of bards and the legends of monkish chroniclers. these fables they arranged in order, adorned with the embellishments of fancy, amplified from their own invention, and stamped with immortality. it may safely be asserted that as long as civilization shall endure these productions will retain their place among the most cherished creations of human genius. in "stories of gods and heroes," "king arthur and his knights" and "the mabinogeon" the aim has been to supply to the modern reader such knowledge of the fables of classical and mediaeval literature as is needed to render intelligible the allusions which occur in reading and conversation. the "legends of charlemagne" is intended to carry out the same design. like the earlier portions of the work, it aspires to a higher character than that of a piece of mere amusement. it claims to be useful, in acquainting its readers with the subjects of the productions of the great poets of italy. some knowledge of these is expected of every well-educated young person. in reading these romances, we cannot fail to observe how the primitive inventions have been used, again and again, by successive generations of fabulists. the siren of ulysses is the prototype of the siren of orlando, and the character of circe reappears in alcina. the fountains of love and hatred may be traced to the story of cupid and psyche; and similar effects produced by a magic draught appear in the tale of tristram and isoude, and, substituting a flower for the draught, in shakspeare's "midsummer night's dream." there are many other instances of the same kind which the reader will recognize without our assistance. the sources whence we derive these stories are, first, the italian poets named above; next, the "romans de chevalerie" of the comte de tressan; lastly, certain german collections of popular tales. some chapters have been borrowed from leigh hunt's translations from the italian poets. it seemed unnecessary to do over again what he had already done so well; yet, on the other hand, those stories could not be omitted from the series without leaving it incomplete. thomas bulfinch. contents king arthur and his knights i. introduction ii. the mythical history of england iii. merlin iv. arthur v. arthur (continued) vi. sir gawain vii. caradoc briefbras; or, caradoc with the shrunken arm viii. launcelot of the lake ix. the adventure of the cart x. the lady of shalott xi. queen guenever's peril xii. tristram and isoude xiii. tristram and isoude (continued) xiv. sir tristram's battle with sir launcelot xv. the round table xvi. sir palamedes xvii. sir tristram xviii. perceval xix. the sangreal, or holy graal xx. the sangreal (continued) xxi. the sangreal (continued) xxii. sir agrivain's treason xxiii. morte d'arthur the mabinogeon introductory note i. the britons ii. the lady of the fountain iii. the lady of the fountain (continued) iv. the lady of the fountain (continued) v. geraint, the son of erbin vi. geraint, the son of erbin (continued) vii. geraint, the son of erbin (continued) viii. pwyll, prince of dyved ix. branwen, the daughter of llyr x. manawyddan xi. kilwich and olwen xii. kilwich and olwen (continued) xiii. taliesin hero myths of the british race beowulf cuchulain, champion of ireland hereward the wake robin hood glossary king arthur and his knights chapter i introduction on the decline of the roman power, about five centuries after christ, the countries of northern europe were left almost destitute of a national government. numerous chiefs, more or less powerful, held local sway, as far as each could enforce his dominion, and occasionally those chiefs would unite for a common object; but, in ordinary times, they were much more likely to be found in hostility to one another. in such a state of things the rights of the humbler classes of society were at the mercy of every assailant; and it is plain that, without some check upon the lawless power of the chiefs, society must have relapsed into barbarism. such checks were found, first, in the rivalry of the chiefs themselves, whose mutual jealousy made them restraints upon one another; secondly, in the influence of the church, which, by every motive, pure or selfish, was pledged to interpose for the protection of the weak; and lastly, in the generosity and sense of right which, however crushed under the weight of passion and selfishness, dwell naturally in the heart of man. from this last source sprang chivalry, which framed an ideal of the heroic character, combining invincible strength and valor, justice, modesty, loyalty to superiors, courtesy to equals, compassion to weakness, and devotedness to the church; an ideal which, if never met with in real life, was acknowledged by all as the highest model for emulation. the word "chivalry" is derived from the french "cheval," a horse. the word "knight," which originally meant boy or servant, was particularly applied to a young man after he was admitted to the privilege of bearing arms. this privilege was conferred on youths of family and fortune only, for the mass of the people were not furnished with arms. the knight then was a mounted warrior, a man of rank, or in the service and maintenance of some man of rank, generally possessing some independent means of support, but often relying mainly on the gratitude of those whom he served for the supply of his wants, and often, no doubt, resorting to the means which power confers on its possessor. in time of war the knight was, with his followers, in the camp of his sovereign, or commanding in the field, or holding some castle for him. in time of peace he was often in attendance at his sovereign's court, gracing with his presence the banquets and tournaments with which princes cheered their leisure. or he was traversing the country in quest of adventure, professedly bent on redressing wrongs and enforcing rights, sometimes in fulfilment of some vow of religion or of love. these wandering knights were called knights-errant; they were welcome guests in the castles of the nobility, for their presence enlivened the dulness of those secluded abodes, and they were received with honor at the abbeys, which often owed the best part of their revenues to the patronage of the knights; but if no castle or abbey or hermitage were at hand their hardy habits made it not intolerable to them to lie down, supperless, at the foot of some wayside cross, and pass the night. it is evident that the justice administered by such an instrumentality must have been of the rudest description. the force whose legitimate purpose was to redress wrongs might easily be perverted to inflict them accordingly, we find in the romances, which, however fabulous in facts, are true as pictures of manners, that a knightly castle was often a terror to the surrounding country; that is, dungeons were full of oppressed knights and ladies, waiting for some champion to appear to set them free, or to be ransomed with money; that hosts of idle retainers were ever at hand to enforce their lord's behests, regardless of law and justice; and that the rights of the unarmed multitude were of no account. this contrariety of fact and theory in regard to chivalry will account for the opposite impressions which exist in men's minds respecting it. while it has been the theme of the most fervid eulogium on the one part, it has been as eagerly denounced on the other. on a cool estimate, we cannot but see reason to congratulate ourselves that it has given way in modern times to the reign of law, and that the civil magistrate, if less picturesque, has taken the place of the mailed champion. the training of a knight the preparatory education of candidates for knighthood was long and arduous. at seven years of age the noble children were usually removed from their father's house to the court or castle of their future patron, and placed under the care of a governor, who taught them the first articles of religion, and respect and reverence for their lords and superiors, and initiated them in the ceremonies of a court. they were called pages, valets, or varlets, and their office was to carve, to wait at table, and to perform other menial services, which were not then considered humiliating. in their leisure hours they learned to dance and play on the harp, were instructed in the mysteries of woods and rivers, that is, in hunting, falconry, and fishing, and in wrestling, tilting with spears, and performing other military exercises on horseback. at fourteen the page became an esquire, and began a course of severer and more laborious exercises. to vault on a horse in heavy armor; to run, to scale walls, and spring over ditches, under the same encumbrance; to wrestle, to wield the battle-axe for a length of time, without raising the visor or taking breath; to perform with grace all the evolutions of horsemanship,--were necessary preliminaries to the reception of knighthood, which was usually conferred at twenty-one years of age, when the young man's education was supposed to be completed. in the meantime, the esquires were no less assiduously engaged in acquiring all those refinements of civility which formed what was in that age called courtesy. the same castle in which they received their education was usually thronged with young persons of the other sex, and the page was encouraged, at a very early age, to select some lady of the court as the mistress of his heart, to whom he was taught to refer all his sentiments, words, and actions. the service of his mistress was the glory and occupation of a knight, and her smiles, bestowed at once by affection and gratitude, were held out as the recompense of his well-directed valor. religion united its influence with those of loyalty and love, and the order of knighthood, endowed with all the sanctity and religious awe that attended the priesthood, became an object of ambition to the greatest sovereigns. the ceremonies of initiation were peculiarly solemn. after undergoing a severe fast, and spending whole nights in prayer, the candidate confessed, and received the sacrament. he then clothed himself in snow-white garments, and repaired to the church, or the hall, where the ceremony was to take place, bearing a knightly sword suspended from his neck, which the officiating priest took and blessed, and then returned to him. the candidate then, with folded arms, knelt before the presiding knight, who, after some questions about his motives and purposes in requesting admission, administered to him the oaths, and granted his request. some of the knights present, sometimes even ladies and damsels, handed to him in succession the spurs, the coat of mail, the hauberk, the armlet and gauntlet, and lastly he girded on the sword. he then knelt again before the president, who, rising from his seat, gave him the "accolade," which consisted of three strokes, with the flat of a sword, on the shoulder or neck of the candidate, accompanied by the words: "in the name of god, of st. michael, and st. george, i make thee a knight; be valiant, courteous, and loyal!" then he received his helmet, his shield, and spear; and thus the investiture ended. freemen, villains, serfs, and clerks the other classes of which society was composed were, first, freemen, owners of small portions of land independent, though they sometimes voluntarily became the vassals of their more opulent neighbors, whose power was necessary for their protection. the other two classes, which were much the most numerous, were either serfs or villains, both of which were slaves. the serfs were in the lowest state of slavery. all the fruits of their labor belonged to the master whose land they tilled, and by whom they were fed and clothed. the villians were less degraded. their situation seems to have resembled that of the russian peasants at this day. like the serfs, they were attached to the soil, and were transferred with it by purchase; but they paid only a fixed rent to the landlord, and had a right to dispose of any surplus that might arise from their industry. the term "clerk" was of very extensive import. it comprehended, originally, such persons only as belonged to the clergy, or clerical order, among whom, however, might be found a multitude of married persons, artisans or others. but in process of time a much wider rule was established; every one that could read being accounted a clerk or clericus, and allowed the "benefit of clergy," that is, exemption from capital and some other forms of punishment, in case of crime. tournaments the splendid pageant of a tournament between knights, its gaudy accessories and trappings, and its chivalrous regulations, originated in france. tournaments were repeatedly condemned by the church, probably on account of the quarrels they led to, and the often fatal results. the "joust," or "just," was different from the tournament. in these, knights fought with their lances, and their object was to unhorse their antagonists; while the tournaments were intended for a display of skill and address in evolutions, and with various weapons, and greater courtesy was observed in the regulations. by these it was forbidden to wound the horse, or to use the point of the sword, or to strike a knight after he had raised his vizor, or unlaced his helmet. the ladies encouraged their knights in these exercises; they bestowed prizes, and the conqueror's feats were the theme of romance and song. the stands overlooking the ground, of course, were varied in the shapes of towers, terraces, galleries, and pensile gardens, magnificently decorated with tapestry, pavilions, and banners. every combatant proclaimed the name of the lady whose servant d'amour he was. he was wont to look up to the stand, and strengthen his courage by the sight of the bright eyes that were raining their influence on him from above. the knights also carried favors, consisting of scarfs, veils, sleeves, bracelets, clasps,--in short, some piece of female habiliment,--attached to their helmets, shields, or armor. if, during the combat, any of these appendages were dropped or lost the fair donor would at times send her knight new ones, especially if pleased with his exertions. mail armor mail armor, of which the hauberk is a species, and which derived its name from maille, a french word for mesh, was of two kinds, plate or scale mail, and chain mail. it was originally used for the protection of the body only, reaching no lower than the knees. it was shaped like a carter's frock, and bound round the waist by a girdle. gloves and hose of mail were afterwards added, and a hood, which, when necessary, was drawn over the head, leaving the face alone uncovered. to protect the skin from the impression of the iron network of the chain mail, a quilted lining was employed, which, however, was insufficient, and the bath was used to efface the marks of the armor. the hauberk was a complete covering of double chain mail. some hauberks opened before, like a modern coat; others were closed like a shirt. the chain mail of which they were composed was formed by a number of iron links, each link having others inserted into it, the whole exhibiting a kind of network, of which (in some instances at least) the meshes were circular, with each link separately riveted. the hauberk was proof against the most violent blow of a sword; but the point of a lance might pass through the meshes, or drive the iron into the flesh. to guard against this, a thick and well- stuffed doublet was worn underneath, under which was commonly added an iron breastplate. hence the expression "to pierce both plate and mail," so common in the earlier poets. mail armor continued in general use till about the year , when it was gradually supplanted by plate armor, or suits consisting of pieces or plates of solid iron, adapted to the different parts of the body. shields were generally made of wood, covered with leather, or some similar substance. to secure them, in some sort, from being cut through by the sword, they were surrounded with a hoop of metal. helmets the helmet was composed of two parts: the headpiece, which was strengthened within by several circles of iron, and the visor, which, as the name implies, was a sort of grating to see through, so contrived as, by sliding in a groove, or turning on a pivot, to be raised or lowered at pleasure. some helmets had a further improvement called a bever, from the italian bevere, to drink. the ventayle, or "air-passage," is another name for this. to secure the helmet from the possibility of falling, or of being struck off, it was tied by several laces to the meshes of the hauberk; consequently, when a knight was overthrown it was necessary to undo these laces before he could be put to death; though this was sometimes effected by lifting up the skirt of the hauberk, and stabbing him in the belly. the instrument of death was a small dagger, worn on the right side. romances in ages when there were no books, when noblemen and princes themselves could not read, history or tradition was monopolized by the story-tellers. they inherited, generation after generation, the wondrous tales of their predecessors, which they retailed to the public with such additions of their own as their acquired information supplied them with. anachronisms became of course very common, and errors of geography, of locality, of manners, equally so. spurious genealogies were invented, in which arthur and his knights, and charlemagne and his paladins, were made to derive their descent from aeneas, hector, or some other of the trojan heroes. with regard to the derivation of the word "romance," we trace it to the fact that the dialects which were formed in western europe, from the admixture of latin with the native languages, took the name of langue romaine. the french language was divided into two dialects. the river loire was their common boundary. in the provinces to the south of that river the affirmative, yes, was expressed by the word oc; in the north it was called oil (oui); and hence dante has named the southern language langue d'oc, and the northern langue d'oil. the latter, which was carried into england by the normans, and is the origin of the present french, may be called the french romane; and the former the provencal, or provencial romane, because it was spoken by the people of provence and languedoc, southern provinces of france. these dialects were soon distinguished by very opposite characters. a soft and enervating climate, a spirit of commerce encouraged by an easy communication with other maritime nations, the influx of wealth, and a more settled government, may have tended to polish and soften the diction of the provencials, whose poets, under the name of troubadours, were the masters of the italians, and particularly of petrarch. their favorite pieces were sirventes (satirical pieces), love-songs, and tensons, which last were a sort of dialogue in verse between two poets, who questioned each other on some refined points of loves' casuistry. it seems the provencials were so completely absorbed in these delicate questions as to neglect and despise the composition of fabulous histories of adventure and knighthood, which they left in a great measure to the poets of the northern part of the kingdom, called trouveurs. at a time when chivalry excited universal admiration, and when all the efforts of that chivalry were directed against the enemies of religion, it was natural that literature should receive the same impulse, and that history and fable should be ransacked to furnish examples of courage and piety that might excite increased emulation. arthur and charlemagne were the two heroes selected for this purpose. arthur's pretensions were that he was a brave, though not always a successful warrior; he had withstood with great resolution the arms of the infidels, that is to say of the saxons, and his memory was held in the highest estimation by his countrymen, the britons, who carried with them into wales, and into the kindred country of armorica, or brittany, the memory of his exploits, which their national vanity insensibly exaggerated, till the little prince of the silures (south wales) was magnified into the conqueror of england, of gaul, and of the greater part of europe. his genealogy was gradually carried up to an imaginary brutus, and to the period of the trojan war, and a sort of chronicle was composed in the welsh, or armorican language, which, under the pompous title of the "history of the kings of britain," was translated into latin by geoffrey of monmouth, about the year . the welsh critics consider the material of the work to have been an older history, written by st. talian, bishop of st. asaph, in the seventh century. as to charlemagne, though his real merits were sufficient to secure his immortality, it was impossible that his holy wars against the saracens should not become a favorite topic for fiction. accordingly, the fabulous history of these wars was written, probably towards the close of the eleventh century, by a monk, who, thinking it would add dignity to his work to embellish it with a contemporary name, boldly ascribed it to turpin, who was archbishop of rheims about the year . these fabulous chronicles were for a while imprisoned in languages of local only or of professional access. both turpin and geoffrey might indeed be read by ecclesiastics, the sole latin scholars of those times, and geoffrey's british original would contribute to the gratification of welshmen; but neither could become extensively popular till translated into some language of general and familiar use. the anglo-saxon was at that time used only by a conquered and enslaved nation; the spanish and italian languages were not yet formed; the norman french alone was spoken and understood by the nobility in the greater part of europe, and therefore was a proper vehicle for the new mode of composition. that language was fashionable in england before the conquest, and became, after that event, the only language used at the court of london. as the various conquests of the normans, and the enthusiastic valor of that extraordinary people, had familiarized the minds of men with the most marvellous events, their poets eagerly seized the fabulous legends of arthur and charlemagne, translated them into the language of the day, and soon produced a variety of imitations. the adventures attributed to these monarchs, and to their distinguished warriors, together with those of many other traditionary or imaginary heroes, composed by degrees that formidable body of marvellous histories which, from the dialect in which the most ancient of them were written, were called "romances." metrical romances the earliest form in which romances appear is that of a rude kind of verse. in this form it is supposed they were sung or recited at the feasts of princes and knights in their baronial halls. the following specimen of the language and style of robert de beauvais, who flourished in , is from sir walter scott's "introduction to the romance of sir tristrem": "ne voil pas emmi dire, ici diverse la matyere, entre ceus qui solent cunter, e de le cunte tristran parler." "i will not say too much about it, so diverse is the matter, among those who are in the habit of telling and relating the story of tristran." this is a specimen of the language which was in use among the nobility of england, in the ages immediately after the norman conquest. the following is a specimen of the english that existed at the same time, among the common people. robert de brunne, speaking of his latin and french authorities, says: "als thai haf wryten and sayd haf i alle in myn inglis layd, in symple speche as i couthe, that is lightest in manne's mouthe. alle for the luf of symple men, that strange inglis cannot ken." the "strange inglis" being the language of the previous specimen. it was not till toward the end of the thirteenth century that the prose romances began to appear. these works generally began with disowning and discrediting the sources from which in reality they drew their sole information. as every romance was supposed to be a real history, the compilers of those in prose would have forfeited all credit if they had announced themselves as mere copyists of the minstrels. on the contrary, they usually state that, as the popular poems upon the matter in question contain many "lesings," they had been induced to translate the real and true history of such or such a knight from the original latin or greek, or from the ancient british or armorican authorities, which authorities existed only in their own assertion. a specimen of the style of the prose romances may be found in the following extract from one of the most celebrated and latest of them, the "morte d'arthur" of sir thomas mallory, of the date of . from this work much of the contents of this volume has been drawn, with as close an adherence to the original style as was thought consistent with our plan of adapting our narrative to the taste of modern readers. "it is notoyrly knowen thorugh the vnyuersal world that there been ix worthy and the best that ever were. that is to wete thre paynyms, three jewes, and three crysten men. as for the paynyms, they were tofore the incarnacyon of cryst whiche were named, the fyrst hector of troye; the second alysaunder the grete, and the thyrd julyus cezar, emperour of rome, of whome thystoryes ben wel kno and had. and as for the thre jewes whyche also were tofore thyncarnacyon of our lord, of whome the fyrst was duc josue, whyche brought the chyldren of israhel into the londe of beheste; the second dauyd, kyng of jherusalem, and the thyrd judas machabeus; of these thre the byble reherceth al theyr noble hystoryes and actes. and sythe the sayd incarnacyon haue ben the noble crysten men stalled and admytted thorugh the vnyuersal world to the nombre of the ix beste and worthy, of whome was fyrst the noble arthur, whose noble actes i purpose to wryte in this person book here folowyng. the second was charlemayn, or charles the grete, of whome thystorye is had in many places both in frensshe and englysshe, and the thyrd and last was godefray of boloyn." chapter ii the mythical history of england the illustrious poet, milton, in his "history of england," is the author whom we chiefly follow in this chapter. according to the earliest accounts, albion, a giant, and son of neptune, a contemporary of hercules, ruled over the island, to which he gave his name. presuming to oppose the progress of hercules in his western march, he was slain by him. another story is that histion, the son of japhet, the son of noah, had four sons, francus, romanus, alemannus, and britto, from whom descended the french, roman, german, and british people. rejecting these and other like stories, milton gives more regard to the story of brutus, the trojan, which, he says, is supported by "descents of ancestry long continued, laws and exploits not plainly seeming to be borrowed or devised, which on the common belief have wrought no small impression; defended by many, denied utterly by few." the principal authority is geoffrey of monmouth, whose history, written in the twelfth century, purports to be a translation of a history of britain brought over from the opposite shore of france, which, under the name of brittany, was chiefly peopled by natives of britain who, from time to time, emigrated thither, driven from their own country by the inroads of the picts and scots. according to this authority, brutus was the son of silvius, and he of ascanius, the son of aeneas, whose flight from troy and settlement in italy are narrated in "stories of gods and heroes." brutus, at the age of fifteen, attending his father to the chase, unfortunately killed him with an arrow. banished therefor by his kindred, he sought refuge in that part of greece where helenus, with a band of trojan exiles, had become established. but helenus was now dead and the descendants of the trojans were oppressed by pandrasus, the king of the country. brutus, being kindly received among them, so throve in virtue and in arms as to win the regard of all the eminent of the land above all others of his age. in consequence of this the trojans not only began to hope, but secretly to persuade him to lead them the way to liberty. to encourage them, they had the promise of help from assaracus, a noble greek youth, whose mother was a trojan. he had suffered wrong at the hands of the king, and for that reason the more willingly cast in his lost with the trojan exiles. choosing a fit opportunity, brutus with his countrymen withdrew to the woods and hills, as the safest place from which to expostulate, and sent this message to pandrasus: "that the trojans, holding it unworthy of their ancestors to serve in a foreign land, had retreated to the woods, choosing rather a savage life than a slavish one. if that displeased him, then, with his leave, they would depart to some other country." pandrasus, not expecting so bold a message from the sons of captives, went in pursuit of them, with such forces as he could gather, and met them on the banks of the achelous, where brutus got the advantage, and took the king captive. the result was, that the terms demanded by the trojans were granted; the king gave his daughter imogen in marriage to brutus, and furnished shipping, money, and fit provision for them all to depart from the land. the marriage being solemnized, and shipping from all parts got together, the trojans, in a fleet of no less than three hundred and twenty sail, betook themselves to the sea. on the third day they arrived at a certain island, which they found destitute of inhabitants, though there were appearances of former habitation, and among the ruins a temple of diana. brutus, here performing sacrifice at the shrine of the goddess, invoked an oracle for his guidance, in these lines: "goddess of shades, and huntress, who at will walk'st on the rolling sphere, and through the deep; on thy third realm, the earth, look now, and tell what land, what seat of rest, thou bidd'st me seek; what certain seat where i may worship thee for aye, with temples vowed and virgin choirs." to whom, sleeping before the altar, diana in a vision thus answered: "brutus! far to the west, in the ocean wide, beyond the realm of gaul, a land there lies, seagirt it lies, where giants dwelt of old; now, void, it fits thy people: thither bend thy course; there shalt thou find a lasting seat; there to thy sons another troy shall rise, and kings be born of thee, whose dreaded might shall awe the world, and conquer nations bold" brutus, guided now, as he thought, by divine direction, sped his course towards the west, and, arriving at a place on the tyrrhene sea, found there the descendants of certain trojans who, with antenor, came into italy, of whom corineus was the chief. these joined company, and the ships pursued their way till they arrived at the mouth of the river loire, in france, where the expedition landed, with a view to a settlement, but were so rudely assaulted by the inhabitants that they put to sea again, and arrived at a part of the coast of britain, now called devonshire, where brutus felt convinced that he had found the promised end of his voyage, landed his colony, and took possession. the island, not yet britain, but albion, was in a manner desert and inhospitable, occupied only by a remnant of the giant race whose excessive force and tyranny had destroyed the others. the trojans encountered these and extirpated them, corineus, in particular, signalizing himself by his exploits against them; from whom cornwall takes its name, for that region fell to his lot, and there the hugest giants dwelt, lurking in rocks and caves, till corineus rid the land of them. brutus built his capital city, and called it trojanova (new troy), changed in time to trinovantus, now london; [footnote: "for noble britons sprong from trojans bold, and troynovant was built of old troy's ashes cold" spenser, book iii, canto ix., .] and, having governed the isle twenty-four years, died, leaving three sons, locrine, albanact and camber. locrine had the middle part, camber the west, called cambria from him, and albanact albania, now scotland. locrine was married to guendolen, the daughter of corineus, but having seen a fair maid named estrildis, who had been brought captive from germany, he became enamoured of her, and had by her a daughter, whose name was sabra. this matter was kept secret while corineus lived, but after his death locrine divorced guendolen, and made estrildis his queen. guendolen, all in rage, departed to cornwall, where madan, her son, lived, who had been brought up by corineus, his grandfather. gathering an army of her father's friends and subjects, she gave battle to her husband's forces and locrine was slain. guendolen caused her rival, estrildis, with her daughter sabra, to be thrown into the river, from which cause the river thenceforth bore the maiden's name, which by length of time is now changed into sabrina or severn. milton alludes to this in his address to the rivers,-- "severn swift, guilty of maiden's death";-- and in his "comus" tells the story with a slight variation, thus: "there is a gentle nymph not far from hence, that with moist curb sways the smooth severn stream; sabrina is her name, a virgin pure: whilom she was the daughter of locrine, that had the sceptre from his father, brute, she, guiltless damsel, flying the mad pursuit of her enraged step-dame, guendolen, commended her fair innocence to the flood, that stayed her night with his cross-flowing course the water-nymphs that in the bottom played, held up their pearled wrists and took her in, bearing her straight to aged nereus' hall, who, piteous of her woes, reared her lank head, and gave her to his daughters to imbathe in nectared lavers strewed with asphodel, and through the porch and inlet of each sense dropped in ambrosial oils till she revived, and underwent a quick, immortal change, made goddess of the river," etc. if our readers ask when all this took place, we must answer, in the first place, that mythology is not careful of dates; and next, that, as brutus was the great-grandson of aeneas, it must have been not far from a century subsequent to the trojan war, or about eleven hundred years before the invasion of the island by julius caesar. this long interval is filled with the names of princes whose chief occupation was in warring with one another. some few, whose names remain connected with places, or embalmed in literature, we will mention. bladud bladud built the city of bath, and dedicated the medicinal waters to minerva. he was a man of great invention, and practised the arts of magic, till, having made him wings to fly, he fell down upon the temple of apollo, in trinovant, and so died, after twenty years' reign. leir leir, who next reigned, built leicester, and called it after his name. he had no male issue, but only three daughters. when grown old he determined to divide his kingdom among his daughters, and bestow them in marriage. but first, to try which of them loved him best, he determined to ask them solemnly in order, and judge of the warmth of their affection by their answers. goneril, the eldest, knowing well her father's weakness, made answer that she loved him "above her soul." "since thou so honorest my declining age," said the old man, "to thee and to thy husband i give the third part of my realm." such good success for a few words soon uttered was ample instruction to regan, the second daughter, what to say. she therefore to the same question replied that "she loved him more than all the world beside;" and so received an equal reward with her sister. but cordelia, the youngest, and hitherto the best beloved, though having before her eyes the reward of a little easy soothing, and the loss likely to attend plain- dealing, yet was not moved from the solid purpose of a sincere and virtuous answer, and replied: "father, my love towards you is as my duty bids. they who pretend beyond this flatter." when the old man, sorry to hear this, and wishing her to recall these words, persisted in asking, she still restrained her expressions so as to say rather less than more than the truth. then leir, all in a passion, burst forth: "since thou hast not reverenced thy aged father like thy sisters, think not to have any part in my kingdom or what else i have;"--and without delay, giving in marriage his other daughters, goneril to the duke of albany, and regan to the duke of cornwall, he divides his kingdom between them, and goes to reside with his eldest daughter, attended only by a hundred knights. but in a short time his attendants, being complained of as too numerous and disorderly, are reduced to thirty. resenting that affront, the old king betakes him to his second daughter; but she, instead of soothing his wounded pride, takes part with her sister, and refuses to admit a retinue of more than five. then back he returns to the other, who now will not receive him with more than one attendant. then the remembrance of cordeilla comes to his thoughts, and he takes his journey into france to seek her, with little hope of kind consideration from one whom he had so injured, but to pay her the last recompense he can render,-- confession of his injustice. when cordeilla is informed of his approach, and of his sad condition, she pours forth true filial tears. and, not willing that her own or others' eyes should see him in that forlorn condition, she sends one of her trusted servants to meet him, and convey him privately to some comfortable abode, and to furnish him with such state as befitted his dignity. after which cordeilla, with the king her husband, went in state to meet him, and, after an honorable reception, the king permitted his wife, cordeilla, to go with an army and set her father again upon his throne. they prospered, subdued the wicked sisters and their consorts, and leir obtained the crown and held it three years. cordeilla succeeded him and reigned five years; but the sons of her sisters, after that, rebelled against her, and she lost both her crown and life. shakspeare has chosen this story as the subject of his tragedy of "king lear," varying its details in some respects. the madness of leir, and the ill success of cordeilla's attempt to reinstate her father, are the principal variations, and those in the names will also be noticed. our narrative is drawn from milton's "history;" and thus the reader will perceive that the story of leir has had the distinguished honor of being told by the two acknowledged chiefs of british literature. ferrex and porrex ferrex and porrex were brothers, who held the kingdom after leir. they quarrelled about the supremacy, and porrex expelled his brother, who, obtaining aid from suard, king of the franks, returned and made war upon porrex. ferrex was slain in battle and his forces dispersed. when their mother came to hear of her son's death, who was her favorite, she fell into a great rage, and conceived a mortal hatred against the survivor. she took, therefore, her opportunity when he was asleep, fell upon him, and, with the assistance of her women, tore him in pieces. this horrid story would not be worth relating, were it not for the fact that it has furnished the plot for the first tragedy which was written in the english language. it was entitled "gorboduc," but in the second edition "ferrex and porrex," and was the production of thomas sackville, afterwards earl of dorset, and thomas norton, a barrister. its date was . dunwallo molmutius this is the next name of note. molmutius established the molmutine laws, which bestowed the privilege of sanctuary on temples, cities, and the roads leading to them, and gave the same protection to ploughs, extending a religious sanction to the labors of the field. shakspeare alludes to him in "cymbeline," act iii., scene : "... molmutius made our laws; who was the first of britain which did put his brows within a golden crown, and called himself a king." brennus and belinus, the sons of molmutius, succeeded him. they quarrelled, and brennus was driven out of the island, and took refuge in gaul, where he met with such favor from the king of the allobroges that he gave him his daughter in marriage, and made him his partner on the throne. brennus is the name which the roman historians give to the famous leader of the gauls who took rome in the time of camillus. geoffrey of monmouth claims the glory of the conquest for the british prince, after he had become king of the allobroges. elidure after belinus and brennus there reigned several kings of little note, and then came elidure. arthgallo, his brother, being king, gave great offence to his powerful nobles, who rose against him, deposed him, and advanced elidure to the throne. arthgallo fled, and endeavored to find assistance in the neighboring kingdoms to reinstate him, but found none. elidure reigned prosperously and wisely. after five years' possession of the kingdom, one day, when hunting, he met in the forest his brother, arthgallo, who had been deposed. after long wandering, unable longer to bear the poverty to which he was reduced, he had returned to britain, with only ten followers, designing to repair to those who had formerly been his friends. elidure, at the sight of his brother in distress, forgetting all animosities, ran to him, and embraced him. he took arthgallo home with him, and concealed him in the palace. after this he feigned himself sick, and, calling his nobles about him, induced them, partly by persuasion, partly by force, to consent to his abdicating the kingdom, and reinstating his brother on the throne. the agreement being ratified, elidure took the crown from his own head, and put it on his brother's head. arthgallo after this reigned ten years, well and wisely, exercising strict justice towards all men. he died, and left the kingdom to his sons, who reigned with various fortunes, but were not long-lived, and left no offspring, so that elidure was again advanced to the throne, and finished the course of his life in just and virtuous actions, receiving the name of the pious, from the love and admiration of his subjects. wordsworth has taken the story of artegal and elidure for the subject of a poem, which is no. of "poems founded on the affections." lud after elidure, the chronicle names many kings, but none of special note, till we come to lud, who greatly enlarged trinovant, his capital, and surrounded it with a wall. he changed its name, bestowing upon it his own, so that henceforth it was called lud's town, afterwards london. lud was buried by the gate of the city called after him ludgate. he had two sons, but they were not old enough at the time of their father's death to sustain the cares of government, and therefore their uncle, caswallaun, or cassibellaunus, succeeded to the kingdom. he was a brave and magnificent prince, so that his fame reached to distant countries. cassibellaunus about this time it happened (as is found in the roman histories) that julius caesar, having subdued gaul, came to the shore opposite britain. and having resolved to add this island also to his conquests, he prepared ships and transported his army across the sea, to the mouth of the river thames. here he was met by cassibellaun with all his forces, and a battle ensued, in which nennius, the brother of cassibellaun, engaged in single combat with csesar. after several furious blows given and received, the sword of caesar stuck so fast in the shield of nennius that it could not be pulled out, and the combatants being separated by the intervention of the troops nennius remained possessed of this trophy. at last, after the greater part of the day was spent, the britons poured in so fast that caesar was forced to retire to his camp and fleet. and finding it useless to continue the war any longer at that time, he returned to gaul. shakspeare alludes to cassibellaunus, in "cymbeline": "the famed cassibelan, who was once at point (o giglot fortune!) to master caesar's sword, made lud's town with rejoicing fires bright, and britons strut with courage." kymbelinus, or cymbeline caesar, on a second invasion of the island, was more fortunate, and compelled the britons to pay tribute. cymbeline, the nephew of the king, was delivered to the romans as a hostage for the faithful fulfilment of the treaty, and, being carried to rome by caesar, he was there brought up in the roman arts and accomplishments. being afterwards restored to his country, and placed on the throne, he was attached to the romans, and continued through all his reign at peace with them. his sons, guiderius and arviragus, who made their appearance in shakspeare's play of "cymbeline," succeeded their father, and, refusing to pay tribute to the romans, brought on another invasion. guiderius was slain, but arviragus afterward made terms with the romans, and reigned prosperously many years. armorica the next event of note is the conquest and colonization of armorica, by maximus, a roman general, and conan, lord of miniadoc or denbigh-land, in wales. the name of the country was changed to brittany, or lesser britain; and so completely was it possessed by the british colonists, that the language became assimilated to that spoken in wales, and it is said that to this day the peasantry of the two countries can understand each other when speaking their native language. the romans eventually succeeded in establishing themselves in the island, and after the lapse of several generations they became blended with the natives so that no distinction existed between the two races. when at length the roman armies were withdrawn from britain, their departure was a matter of regret to the inhabitants, as it left them without protection against the barbarous tribes, scots, picts, and norwegians, who harassed the country incessantly. this was the state of things when the era of king arthur began. the adventure of albion, the giant, with hercules is alluded to by spenser, "faery queene," book iv., canto xi: "for albion the son of neptune was; who for the proof of his great puissance, out of his albion did on dry foot pass into old gaul that now is cleped france, to fight with hercules, that did advance to vanquish all the world with matchless might: and there his mortal part by great mischance was slain." chapter iii merlin merlin was the son of no mortal father, but of an incubus, one of a class of beings not absolutely wicked, but far from good, who inhabit the regions of the air. merlin's mother was a virtuous young woman, who, on the birth of her son, intrusted him to a priest, who hurried him to the baptismal fount, and so saved him from sharing the lot of his father, though he retained many marks of his unearthly origin. at this time vortigern reigned in britain. he was a usurper, who had caused the death of his sovereign, moines, and driven the two brothers of the late king, whose names were uther and pendragon, into banishment. vortigern, who lived in constant fear of the return of the rightful heirs of the kingdom, began to erect a strong tower for defence. the edifice, when brought by the workmen to a certain height, three times fell to the ground, without any apparent cause. the king consulted his astrologers on this wonderful event, and learned from them that it would be necessary to bathe the corner-stone of the foundation with the blood of a child born without a mortal father. in search of such an infant, vortigern sent his messengers all over the kingdom, and they by accident discovered merlin, whose lineage seemed to point him out as the individual wanted. they took him to the king; but merlin, young as he was, explained to the king the absurdity of attempting to rescue the fabric by such means, for he told him the true cause of the instability of the tower was its being placed over the den of two immense dragons, whose combats shook the earth above them. the king ordered his workmen to dig beneath the tower, and when they had done so they discovered two enormous serpents, the one white as milk the other red as fire. the multitude looked on with amazement, till the serpents, slowly rising from their den, and expanding their enormous folds, began the combat, when every one fled in terror, except merlin, who stood by clapping his hands and cheering on the conflict. the red dragon was slain, and the white one, gliding through a cleft in the rock, disappeared. these animals typified, as merlin afterwards explained, the invasion of uther and pendragon, the rightful princes, who soon after landed with a great army. vortigern was defeated, and afterwards burned alive in the castle he had taken such pains to construct. on the death of vortigern, pendragon ascended the throne. merlin became his chief adviser, and often assisted the king by his magical arts. "merlin, who knew the range of all their arts, had built the king his havens, ships and halls." --vivian. among other endowments, he had the power of transforming himself into any shape he pleased. at one time he appeared as a dwarf, at others as a damsel, a page, or even a greyhound or a stag. this faculty he often employed for the service of the king, and sometimes also for the diversion of the court and the sovereign. merlin continued to be a favorite counsellor through the reigns of pendragon, uther, and arthur, and at last disappeared from view, and was no more found among men, through the treachery of his mistress, viviane, the fairy, which happened in this wise. merlin, having become enamoured of the fair viviane, the lady of the lake, was weak enough to impart to her various important secrets of his art, being impelled by fatal destiny, of which he was at the same time fully aware. the lady, however, was not content with his devotion, unbounded as it seems to have been, but "cast about," the romance tells us, how she might "detain him for evermore," and one day addressed him in these terms: "sir, i would that we should make a fair place and a suitable, so contrived by art and by cunning that it might never be undone, and that you and i should be there in joy and solace." "my lady," said merlin, "i will do all this." "sir," said she, "i would not have you do it, but you shall teach me, and i will do it, and then it will be more to my mind." "i grant you this," said merlin. then he began to devise, and the damsel put it all in writing. and when he had devised the whole, then had the damsel full great joy, and showed him greater semblance of love than she had ever before made, and they sojourned together a long while. at length it fell out that, as they were going one day hand in hand through the forest of breceliande, they found a bush of white-thorn, which was laden with flowers; and they seated themselves under the shade of this white-thorn, upon the green grass, and merlin laid his head upon the damsel's lap, and fell asleep. then the damsel rose, and made a ring with her wimple round the bush, and round merlin, and began her enchantments, such as he himself had taught her; and nine times she made the ring, and nine times she made the enchantment, and then she went and sat down by him, and placed his head again upon her lap. "and a sleep fell upon merlin more like death, so deep her finger on her lips; then vivian rose, and from her brown-locked head the wimple throws, and takes it in her hand and waves it over the blossomed thorn tree and her sleeping lover. nine times she waved the fluttering wimple round, and made a little plot of magic ground." --matthew arnold. and when he awoke, and looked round him, it seemed to him that he was enclosed in the strongest tower in the world, and laid upon a fair bed. then said he to the dame: "my lady, you have deceived me, unless you abide with me, for no one hath power to unmake this tower but you alone." she then promised she would be often there, and in this she held her covenant with him. and merlin never went out of that tower where his mistress viviane had enclosed him; but she entered and went out again when she listed. after this event merlin was never more known to hold converse with any mortal but viviane, except on one occasion. arthur, having for some time missed him from his court, sent several of his knights in search of him, and, among the number, sir gawain, who met with a very unpleasant adventure while engaged in this quest. happening to pass a damsel on his road, and neglecting to salute her, she revenged herself for his incivility by transforming him into a hideous dwarf. he was bewailing aloud his evil fortune as he went through the forest of breceliande, when suddenly he heard the voice of one groaning on his right hand; and, looking that way, he could see nothing save a kind of smoke, which seemed like air, and through which he could not pass. merlin then addressed him from out the smoke, and told him by what misadventure he was imprisoned there. "ah, sir!" he added, "you will never see me more, and that grieves me, but i cannot remedy it; i shall never more speak to you, nor to any other person, save only my mistress. but do thou hasten to king arthur, and charge him from me to undertake, without delay, the quest of the sacred graal. the knight is already born, and has received knighthood at his hands, who is destined to accomplish this quest." and after this he comforted gawain under his transformation, assuring him that he should speedily be disenchanted; and he predicted to him that he should find the king at carduel, in wales, on his return, and that all the other knights who had been on like quest would arrive there the same day as himself. and all this came to pass as merlin had said. merlin is frequently introduced in the tales of chivalry, but it is chiefly on great occasions, and at a period subsequent to his death, or magical disappearance. in the romantic poems of italy, and in spenser, merlin is chiefly represented as a magical artist. spenser represents him as the artificer of the impenetrable shield and other armor of prince arthur ("faery queene," book i., canto vii.), and of a mirror, in which a damsel viewed her lover's shade. the fountain of love, in the "orlando innamorata," is described as his work; and in the poem of "ariosto" we are told of a hall adorned with prophetic paintings, which demons had executed in a single night, under the direction of merlin. the following legend is from spenser's "faery queene," book iii., canto iii.: caer-merdin, or caermarthen (in wales), merlin's tower, and the imprisoned fiends. "forthwith themselves disguising both, in straunge and base attire, that none might them bewray, to maridunum, that is now by chaunge of name caer-merdin called, they took their way: there the wise merlin whylome wont (they say) to make his wonne, low underneath the ground in a deep delve, far from the view of day, that of no living wight he mote be found, whenso he counselled with his sprights encompassed round. "and if thou ever happen that same way to travel, go to see that dreadful place; it is a hideous hollow cave (they say) under a rock that lies a little space from the swift barry, tombling down apace amongst the woody hills of dynevor; but dare not thou, i charge, in any case, to enter into that same baleful bower, for fear the cruel fiends should thee unwares devour. "but standing high aloft, low lay thine ear, and there such ghastly noise of iron chains and brazen cauldrons thou shalt rumbling hear, which thousand sprites with long enduring pains do toss, that it will stun thy feeble brains; and oftentimes great groans, and grievous stounds, when too huge toil and labor them constrains; and oftentimes loud strokes and ringing sounds from under that deep rock most horribly rebounds. "the cause some say is this. a little while before that merlin died, he did intend a brazen wall in compas to compile about caermerdin, and did it commend unto these sprites to bring to perfect end; during which work the lady of the lake, whom long he loved, for him in haste did send; who, thereby forced his workmen to forsake, them bound till his return their labor not to slack. "in the mean time, through that false lady's train, he was surprised, and buried under beare, he ever to his work returned again; nathless those fiends may not their work forbear, so greatly his commandement they fear; but there do toil and travail day and night, until that brazen wall they up do rear. for merlin had in magic more insight than ever him before or after living wight." [footnote: buried under beare. buried under something which enclosed him like a coffin or bier.] chapter iv arthur we shall begin our history of king arthur by giving those particulars of his life which appear to rest on historical evidence; and then proceed to record those legends concerning him which form the earliest portion of british literature. arthur was a prince of the tribe of britons called silures, whose country was south wales, the son of uther, named pendragon, a title given to an elective sovereign, paramount over the many kings of britain. he appears to have commenced his martial career about the year , and was raised to the pendragonship about ten years later. he is said to have gained twelve victories over the saxons. the most important of them was that of badon, by some supposed to be bath, by others berkshire. this was the last of his battles with the saxons, and checked their progress so effectually, that arthur experienced no more annoyance from them, and reigned in peace, until the revolt of his nephew modred, twenty years later, which led to the fatal battle of camlan, in cornwall, in . modred was slain, and arthur, mortally wounded, was conveyed by sea to glastonbury, where he died, and was buried. tradition preserved the memory of the place of his interment within the abbey, as we are told by giraldus cambrensis, who was present when the grave was opened by command of henry ii. about , and saw the bones and sword of the monarch, and a leaden cross let into his tombstone, with the inscription in rude roman letters, "here lies buried the famous king arthur, in the island avalonia." this story has been elegantly versified by warton. a popular traditional belief was long entertained among the britons, that arthur was not dead, but had been carried off to be healed of his wounds in fairy-land, and that he would reappear to avenge his countrymen and reinstate them in the sovereignty of britain. in warton's "ode" a bard relates to king henry the traditional story of arthur's death, and closes with these lines. "yet in vain a paynim foe armed with fate the mighty blow: for when he fell, the elfin queen, all in secret and unseen, o'er the fainting hero threw her mantle of ambrosial blue, and bade her spirits bear him far, in merlin's agate-axled car, to her green isle's enamelled steep, far in the navel of the deep. o'er his wounds she sprinkled dew from flowers that in arabia grew. there he reigns a mighty king, thence to britain shall return, if right prophetic rolls i learn, borne on victory's spreading plume, his ancient sceptre to resume, his knightly table to restore, and brave the tournaments of yore." after this narration another bard came forward who recited a different story: "when arthur bowed his haughty crest, no princess veiled in azure vest snatched him, by merlin's powerful spell, in groves of golden bliss to dwell; but when he fell, with winged speed, his champions, on a milk-white steed, from the battle's hurricane, bore him to joseph's towered fane, in the fair vale of avalon; there, with chanted orison and the long blaze of tapers clear, the stoled fathers met the bier; through the dim aisles, in order dread of martial woe, the chief they led, and deep entombed in holy ground, before the altar's solemn bound." [footnote: glastonbury abbey, said to be founded by joseph of arimathea, in a spot anciently called the island or valley of avalonia. tennyson, in his "palace of art," alludes to the legend of arthur's rescue by the faery queen, thus: "or mythic uther's deeply wounded son, in some fair space of sloping greens, lay dozing in the vale of avalon, and watched by weeping queens."] it must not be concealed that the very existence of arthur has been denied by some. milton says of him: "as to arthur, more renowned in songs and romances than in true stories, who he was, and whether ever any such reigned in britain, hath been doubted heretofore, and may again, with good reason." modern critics, however, admit that there was a prince of this name, and find proof of it in the frequent mention of him in the writings of the welsh bards. but the arthur of romance, according to mr. owen, a welsh scholar and antiquarian, is a mythological person. "arthur," he says, "is the great bear, as the name literally implies (arctos, arcturus), and perhaps this constellation, being so near the pole, and visibly describing a circle in a small space, is the origin of the famous round table." king arthur constans, king of britain, had three sons, moines, ambrosius, otherwise called uther, and pendragon. moines, soon after his accession to the crown, was vanquished by the saxons, in consequence of the treachery of his seneschal, vortigern, and growing unpopular, through misfortune, he was killed by his subjects, and the traitor vortigern chosen in his place. vortigern was soon after defeated in a great battle by uther and pendragon, the surviving brothers of moines, and pendragon ascended the throne. this prince had great confidence in the wisdom of merlin, and made him his chief adviser. about this time a dreadful war arose between the saxons and britons. merlin obliged the royal brothers to swear fidelity to each other, but predicted that one of them must fall in the first battle. the saxons were routed, and pendragon, being slain, was succeeded by uther, who now assumed in addition to his own name the appellation of pendragon. merlin still continued a favorite counsellor. at the request of uther he transported by magic art enormous stones from ireland, to form the sepulchre of pendragon. these stones constitute the monument now called stonehenge, on salisbury plain. merlin next proceeded to carlisle to prepare the round table, at which he seated an assemblage of the great nobles of the country. the companions admitted to this high order were bound by oath to assist each other at the hazard of their own lives, to attempt singly the most perilous adventures, to lead, when necessary, a life of monastic solitude, to fly to arms at the first summons, and never to retire from battle till they had defeated the enemy, unless night intervened and separated the combatants. soon after this institution, the king invited all his barons to the celebration of a great festival, which he proposed holding annually at carlisle. as the knights had obtained the sovereign's permission to bring their ladies along with them, the beautiful igerne accompanied her husband, gorlois, duke of tintadel, to one of these anniversaries. the king became deeply enamoured of the duchess, and disclosed his passion; but igerne repelled his advances, and revealed his solicitations to her husband. on hearing this, the duke instantly removed from court with igerne, and without taking leave of uther. the king complained to his council of this want of duty, and they decided that the duke should be summoned to court, and, if refractory, should be treated as a rebel. as he refused to obey the citation, the king carried war into the estates of his vassal and besieged him in the strong castle of tintadel. merlin transformed the king into the likeness of gorlois, and enabled him to have many stolen interviews with igerne. at length the duke was killed in battle and the king espoused igerne. from this union sprang arthur, who succeeded his father, uther, upon the throne. arthur chosen king arthur, though only fifteen years old at his father's death, was elected king, at a general meeting of the nobles. it was not done without opposition, for there were many ambitious competitors. "for while he linger'd there a doubt that ever smoulder'd in the hearts of those great lords and barons of his realm flash'd forth and into war: for most of these made head against him, crying, 'who is he that he should rule us? who hath proven him king uther's son? for lo! we look at him, and find nor face nor bearing, limbs nor voice, are like to those of uther whom we knew." --coming of arthur. but bishop brice, a person of great sanctity, on christmas eve addressed the assembly, and represented that it would well become them, at that solemn season, to put up their prayers for some token which should manifest the intentions of providence respecting their future sovereign. this was done, and with such success, that the service was scarcely ended when a miraculous stone was discovered before the church door, and in the stone was firmly fixed a sword, with the following words engraven on its hilt: "i am hight escalibore, unto a king fair tresore." bishop brice, after exhorting the assembly to offer up their thanksgiving for this signal miracle, proposed a law, that whoever should be able to draw out the sword from the stone, should be acknowledged as sovereign of the britons; and his proposal was decreed by general acclamation. the tributary kings of uther, and the most famous knights, successively put their strength to the proof, but the miraculous sword resisted all their efforts. it stood till candlemas; it stood till easter, and till pentecost, when the best knights in the kingdom usually assembled for the annual tournament. arthur, who was at that time serving in the capacity of squire to his foster-brother, sir kay, attended his master to the lists. sir kay fought with great valor and success, but had the misfortune to break his sword, and sent arthur to his mother for a new one. arthur hastened home, but did not find the lady; but having observed near the church a sword, sticking in a stone, he galloped to the place, drew out the sword with great ease, and delivered it to his master. sir kay would willingly have assumed to himself the distinction conferred by the possession of the sword, but when, to confirm the doubters, the sword was replaced in the stone he was utterly unable to withdraw it, and it would yield a second time to no hand but arthur's. thus decisively pointed out by heaven as their king, arthur was by general consent proclaimed as such, and an early day appointed for his solemn coronation. immediately after his election to the crown, arthur found himself opposed by eleven kings and one duke, who with a vast army were actually encamped in the forest of rockingham. by merlin's advice arthur sent an embassy to brittany, to solicit the aid of king ban and king bohort, two of the best knights in the world. they accepted the call, and with a powerful army crossed the sea, landing at portsmouth, where they were received with great rejoicing. the rebel kings were still superior in numbers; but merlin, by a powerful enchantment, caused all their tents to fall down at once, and in the confusion arthur with his allies fell upon them and totally routed them. after defeating the rebels, arthur took the field against the saxons. as they were too strong for him unaided, he sent an embassy to armorica, beseeching the assistance of hoel, who soon after brought over an army to his aid. the two kings joined their forces, and sought the enemy, whom they met, and both sides prepared for a decisive engagement. "arthur himself," as geoffrey of monmouth relates, "dressed in a breastplate worthy of so great a king, places on his head a golden helmet engraved with the semblance of a dragon. over his shoulders he throws his shield called priwen, on which a picture of the holy virgin constantly recalled her to his memory. girt with caliburn, a most excellent sword, and fabricated in the isle of avalon, he graces his right hand with the lance named ron. this was a long and broad spear, well contrived for slaughter." after a severe conflict, arthur, calling on the name of the virgin, rushes into the midst of his enemies, and destroys multitudes of them with the formidable caliburn, and puts the rest to flight. hoel, being detained by sickness, took no part in this battle. this is called the victory of mount badon, and, however disguised by fable, it is regarded by historians as a real event. the feats performed by arthur at the battle of badon mount are thus celebrated in drayton's verse: "they sung how he himself at badon bore, that day, when at the glorious goal his british sceptre lay; two daies together how the battel stronglie stood; pendragon's worthie son, who waded there in blood, three hundred saxons slew with his owne valiant hand." --song iv. guenever merlin had planned for arthur a marriage with the daughter of king laodegan of carmalide. by his advice arthur paid a visit to the court of that sovereign, attended only by merlin and by thirty- nine knights whom the magician had selected for that service. on their arrival they found laodegan and his peers sitting in council, endeavoring, but with small prospect of success, to devise means of resisting the impending attack of ryence, king of ireland, who, with fifteen tributary kings and an almost innumerable army, had nearly surrounded the city. merlin, who acted as leader of the band of british knights, announced them as strangers, who came to offer the king their services in his wars; but under the express condition that they should be at liberty to conceal their names and quality until they should think proper to divulge them. these terms were thought very strange, but were thankfully accepted, and the strangers, after taking the usual oath to the king, retired to the lodging which merlin had prepared for them. a few days after this, the enemy, regardless of a truce into which they had entered with king laodegan, suddenly issued from their camp and made an attempt to surprise the city. cleodalis, the king's general, assembled the royal forces with all possible despatch. arthur and his companions also flew to arms, and merlin appeared at their head, bearing a standard on which was emblazoned a terrific dragon. merlin advanced to the gate, and commanded the porter to open it, which the porter refused to do, without the king's order. merlin thereupon took up the gate, with all its appurtenances of locks, bars, bolts, etc., and directed his troops to pass through, after which he replaced it in perfect order. he then set spurs to his horse and dashed, at the head of his little troop, into a body of two thousand pagans. the disparity of numbers being so enormous, merlin cast a spell upon the enemy, so as to prevent their seeing the small number of their assailants; notwithstanding which the british knights were hard pressed. but the people of the city, who saw from the walls this unequal contest, were ashamed of leaving the small body of strangers to their fate, so they opened the gate and sallied forth. the numbers were now more nearly equal, and merlin revoked his spell, so that the two armies encountered on fair terms. where arthur, ban, bohort, and the rest fought the king's army had the advantage; but in another part of the field the king himself was surrounded and carried off by the enemy. the sad sight was seen by guenever, the fair daughter of the king, who stood on the city wall and looked at the battle. she was in dreadful distress, tore her hair, and swooned away. but merlin, aware of what passed in every part of the field, suddenly collected his knights, led them out of the battle, intercepted the passage of the party who were carrying away the king, charged them with irresistible impetuosity, cut in pieces or dispersed the whole escort, and rescued the king. in the fight arthur encountered caulang, a giant fifteen feet high, and the fair guenever, who had already began to feel a strong interest in the handsome young stranger, trembled for the issue of the contest. but arthur, dealing a dreadful blow on the shoulder of the monster, cut through his neck so that his head hung over on one side, and in this condition his horse carried him about the field, to the great horror and dismay of the pagans. guenever could not refrain from expressing aloud her wish that the gentle knight, who dealt with giants so dexterously, were destined to become her husband, and the wish was echoed by her attendants. the enemy soon turned their backs and fled with precipitation, closely pursued by laodegan and his allies. after the battle arthur was disarmed and conducted to the bath by the princess guenever, while his friends were attended by the other ladies of the court. after the bath the knights were conducted to a magnificent entertainment, at which they were diligently served by the same fair attendants. laodegan, more and more anxious to know the name and quality of his generous deliverers, and occasionally forming a secret wish that the chief of his guests might be captivated by the charms of his daughter, appeared silent and pensive, and was scarcely roused from his reverie by the banters of his courtiers. arthur, having had an opportunity of explaining to guenever his great esteem for her merit, was in the joy of his heart, and was still further delighted by hearing from merlin the late exploits of gawain at london, by means of which his immediate return to his dominions was rendered unnecessary, and he was left at liberty to protract his stay at the court of laodegan. every day contributed to increase the admiration of the whole court for the gallant strangers, and the passion of guenever for their chief; and when at last merlin announced to the king that the object of the visit of the party was to procure a bride for their leader, laodegan at once presented guenever to arthur, telling him that, whatever might be his rank, his merit was sufficient to entitle him to the possession of the heiress of carmalide. "and could he find a woman in her womanhood as great as he was in his manhood-- the twain together might change the world." --guinevere. arthur accepted the lady with the utmost gratitude, and merlin then proceeded to satisfy the king of the rank of his son-in-law; upon which laodegan, with all his barons, hastened to do homage to their lawful sovereign, the successor of uther pendragon. the fair guenever was then solemnly betrothed to arthur, and a magnificent festival was proclaimed, which lasted seven days. at the end of that time, the enemy appearing again with renewed force, it became necessary to resume military operations. [footnote: guenever, the name of arthur's queen, also written genievre and geneura, is familiar to all who are conversant with chivalric lore. it is to her adventures, and those of her true knight, sir launcelot, that dante alludes in the beautiful episode of francesca di rimini.] we must now relate what took place at and near london, while arthur was absent from his capital. at this very time a band of young heroes were on their way to arthur's court, for the purpose of receiving knighthood from him. they were gawain and his three brothers, nephews of arthur, sons of king lot, and galachin, another nephew, son of king nanters. king lot had been one of the rebel chiefs whom arthur had defeated, but he now hoped by means of the young men to be reconciled to his brother-in-law. he equipped his sons and his nephew with the utmost magnificence, giving them a splendid retinue of young men, sons of earls and barons, all mounted on the best horses, with complete suits of choice armor. they numbered in all seven hundred, but only nine had yet received the order of knighthood; the rest were candidates for that honor, and anxious to earn it by an early encounter with the enemy. gawain, the leader, was a knight of wonderful strength; but what was most remarkable about him was that his strength was greater at certain hours of the day than at others. from nine o'clock till noon his strength was doubled, and so it was from three to evensong; for the rest of the time it was less remarkable, though at all times surpassing that of ordinary men. after a march of three days they arrived in the vicinity of london, where they expected to find arthur and his court, and very unexpectedly fell in with a large convoy belonging to the enemy, consisting of numerous carts and wagons, all loaded with provisions, and escorted by three thousand men, who had been collecting spoil from all the country round. a single charge from gawain's impetuous cavalry was sufficient to disperse the escort and recover the convoy, which was instantly despatched to london. but before long a body of seven thousand fresh soldiers advanced to the attack of the five princes and their little army. gawain, singling out a chief named choas, of gigantic size, began the battle by splitting him from the crown of the head to the breast. galachin encountered king sanagran, who was also very huge, and cut off his head. agrivain and gahariet also performed prodigies of valor. thus they kept the great army of assailants at bay, though hard pressed, till of a sudden they perceived a strong body of the citizens advancing from london, where the convoy which had been recovered by gawain had arrived, and informed the mayor and citizens of the danger of their deliverer. the arrival of the londoners soon decided the contest. the enemy fled in all directions, and gawain and his friends, escorted by the grateful citizens, entered london, and were received with acclamations. chapter v arthur (continued) after the great victory of mount badon, by which the saxons were for the time effectually put down, arthur turned his arms against the scots and picts, whom he routed at lake lomond, and compelled to sue for mercy. he then went to york to keep his christmas, and employed himself in restoring the christian churches which the pagans had rifled and overthrown. the following summer he conquered ireland, and then made a voyage with his fleet to iceland, which he also subdued. the kings of gothland and of the orkneys came voluntarily and made their submission, promising to pay tribute. then he returned to britain, where, having established the kingdom, he dwelt twelve years in peace. during this time he invited over to him all persons whatsoever that were famous for valor in foreign nations, and augmented the number of his domestics, and introduced such politeness into his court as people of the remotest countries thought worthy of their imitation. so that there was not a nobleman who thought himself of any consideration unless his clothes and arms were made in the same fashion as those of arthur's knights. finding himself so powerful at home, arthur began to form designs for extending his power abroad. so, having prepared his fleet, he first attempted norway, that he might procure the crown of it for lot, his sister's husband. arthur landed in norway, fought a great battle with the king of that country, defeated him, and pursued the victory till he had reduced the whole country under his dominion, and established lot upon the throne. then arthur made a voyage to gaul and laid siege to the city of paris. gaul was at that time a roman province, and governed by flollo, the tribune. when the siege of paris had continued a month, and the people began to suffer from famine, flollo challenged arthur to single combat, proposing to decide the conquest of the province in that way. arthur gladly accepted the challenge, and slew his adversary in the contest, upon which the citizens surrendered the city to him. after the victory arthur divided his army into two parts, one of which he committed to the conduct of hoel, whom he ordered to march into aquitaine, while he with the other part should endeavor to subdue the other provinces. at the end of nine years, in which time all the parts of gaul were entirely reduced, arthur returned to paris, where he kept his court, and, calling an assembly of the clergy and people, established peace and the just administration of the laws in that kingdom. then he bestowed normandy upon bedver, his butler, and the province of andegavia upon kay, his steward, [footnote: this name, in the french romances, is spelled queux, which means head cook. this would seem to imply that it was a title, and not a name; yet the personage who bore it is never mentioned by any other. he is the chief, if not the only, comic character among the heroes of arthur's court. he is the seneschal or steward, his duties also embracing those of chief of the cooks. in the romances, his general character is a compound of valor and buffoonery, always ready to fight, and generally getting the worst of the battle. he is also sarcastic and abusive in his remarks, by which he often gets into trouble. yet arthur seems to have an attachment to him, and often takes his advice, which is generally wrong.] and several other provinces upon his great men that attended him. and, having settled the peace of the cities and countries, he returned back in the beginning of spring to britain. upon the approach of the feast of pentecost, arthur, the better to demonstrate his joy after such triumphant successes, and for the more solemn observation of that festival, and reconciling the minds of the princes that were now subject to him, resolved during that season to hold a magnificent court, to place the crown upon his head, and to invite all the kings and dukes under his subjection to the solemnity. and he pitched upon caerleon, the city of legions, as the proper place for his purpose. for, besides its great wealth above the other cities, its situation upon the river usk, near the severn sea, was most pleasant and fit for so great a solemnity. for on one side it was washed by that noble river, so that the kings and princes from the countries beyond the seas might have the convenience of sailing up to it. on the other side the beauty of the meadows and groves, and magnificence of the royal palaces, with lofty gilded roofs that adorned it, made it even rival the grandeur of rome. it was also famous for two churches, whereof one was adorned with a choir of virgins, who devoted themselves wholly to the service of god, and the other maintained a convent of priests. besides, there was a college of two hundred philosophers, who, being learned in astronomy and the other arts, were diligent in observing the courses of the stars, and gave arthur true predictions of the events that would happen. in this place, therefore, which afforded such delights, were preparations made for the ensuing festival. [footnote: several cities are allotted to king arthur by the romance-writers. the principal are caerleon, camelot, and carlisle. caerleon derives its name from its having been the station of one of the legions, during the dominion of the romans. it is called by latin writers urbs legionum, the city of legions. the former word being rendered into welsh by caer, meaning city, and the latter contracted into lleon. the river usk retains its name in modern geography, and there is a town or city of caerleon upon it, though the city of cardiff is thought to be the scene of arthur's court. chester also bears in welsh the name of caerleon; for chester, derived from castra, latin for camp, is the designation of military headquarters. camelot is thought to be winchester. shalott is guilford. hamo's port is southampton. carlisle is the city still retaining that name, near the scottish border. but this name is also sometimes applied to other places, which were, like itself, military stations.] ambassadors were then sent into several kingdoms, to invite to court the princes both of gaul and of the adjacent islands. accordingly there came augusel, king of albania, now scotland, cadwallo, king of venedotia, now north wales, sater, king of demetia, now south wales; also the archbishops of the metropolitan sees, london and york, and dubricius, bishop of caerleon, the city of legions. this prelate, who was primate of britain, was so eminent for his piety that he could cure any sick person by his prayers. there were also the counts of the principal cities, and many other worthies of no less dignity. from the adjacent islands came guillamurius, king of ireland, gunfasius, king of the orkneys, malvasius, king of iceland, lot, king of norway, bedver, the butler, duke of normandy, kay, the sewer, duke of andegavia; also the twelve peers of gaul, and hoel, duke of the armorican britons, with his nobility, who came with such a train of mules, horses, and rich furniture as it is difficult to describe. besides these there remained no prince of any consideration on this side of spain who came not upon this invitation. and no wonder, when arthur's munificence, which was celebrated over the whole world, made him beloved by all people. when all were assembled upon the day of the solemnity the archbishops were conducted to the palace, in order to place the crown upon the king's head. then dubricius, inasmuch as the court was held in his diocese, made himself ready to celebrate the office. as soon as the king was invested with his royal habiliments he was conducted in great pomp to the metropolitan church, having four kings, viz., of albania, cornwall, demetia, and venedotia, bearing four golden swords before him. on another part was the queen, dressed out in her richest ornaments, conducted by the archbishops and bishops to the church of virgins; the four queens, also, of the kings last mentioned, bearing before her four white doves, according to ancient custom. when the whole procession was ended so transporting was the harmony of the musical instruments and voices, whereof there was a vast variety in both churches, that the knights who attended were in doubt which to prefer, and therefore crowded from the one to the other by turns, and were far from being tired of the solemnity, though the whole day had been spent in it. at last, when divine service was over at both churches, the king and queen put off their crowns, and, putting on their lighter ornaments, went to the banquet. when they had all taken their seats according to precedence, kay, the sewer, in rich robes of ermine, with a thousand young noblemen all in like manner clothed in rich attire, served up the dishes. from another part bedver, the butler, was followed by the same number of attendants, who waited with all kinds of cups and drinking-vessels. and there was food and drink in abundance, and everything was of the best kind, and served in the best manner. for at that time britain had arrived at such a pitch of grandeur that in riches, luxury, and politeness it far surpassed all other kingdoms. as soon as the banquets were over they went into the fields without the city to divert themselves with various sports, such as shooting with bows and arrows, tossing the pike, casting of heavy stones and rocks, playing at dice, and the like, and all these inoffensively, and without quarrelling. in this manner were three days spent, and after that they separated, and the kings and noblemen departed to their several homes. after this arthur reigned five years in peace. then came ambassadors from lucius tiberius, procurator under leo, emperor of rome, demanding tribute. but arthur refused to pay tribute, and prepared for war. as soon as the necessary dispositions were made he committed the government of his kingdom to his nephew modred and to queen guenever, and marched with his army to hamo's port, where the wind stood fair for him. the army crossed over in safety, and landed at the mouth of the river barba. and there they pitched their tents to wait the arrival of the kings of the islands. as soon as all the forces were arrived arthur marched forward to augustodunum, and encamped on the banks of the river alba. here repeated battles were fought, in all which the britons, under their valiant leaders, hoel, duke of armorica, and gawain, nephew to arthur, had the advantage. at length lucius tiberius determined to retreat, and wait for the emperor leo to join him with fresh troops. but arthur, anticipating this event, took possession of a certain valley, and closed up the way of retreat to lucius, compelling him to fight a decisive battle, in which arthur lost some of the bravest of his knights and most faithful followers. but on the other hand lucius tiberius was slain, and his army totally defeated. the fugitives dispersed over the country, some to the by-ways and woods, some to cities and towns, and all other places where they could hope for safety. arthur stayed in those parts till the next winter was over, and employed his time in restoring order and settling the government. he then returned into england, and celebrated his victories with great splendor. then the king stablished all his knights, and to them that were not rich he gave lands, and charged them all never to do outrage nor murder, and always to flee treason; also, by no means to be cruel, but to give mercy unto him that asked mercy, upon pain of forfeiture of their worship and lordship; and always to do ladies, damosels, and gentlewomen service, upon pain of death. also that no man take battle in a wrongful quarrel, for no law, nor for any world's goods. unto this were all the knights sworn of the table round, both old and young. and at every year were they sworn at the high feast of pentecost. king arthur slays the giant of st. michael's mount while the army was encamped in brittany, awaiting the arrival of the kings, there came a countryman to arthur, and told him that a giant, whose cave was on a neighboring mountain, called st. michael's mount, had for a long time been accustomed to carry off the children of the peasants to devour them. "and now he hath taken the duchess of brittany, as she rode with her attendants, and hath carried her away in spite of all they could do." "now, fellow," said king arthur, "canst thou bring me there where this giant haunteth?" "yea, sure," said the good man; "lo, yonder where thou seest two great fires, there shalt thou find him, and more treasure than i suppose is in all france beside." then the king called to him sir bedver and sir kay, and commanded them to make ready horse and harness for himself and them; for after evening he would ride on pilgrimage to st. michael's mount. so they three departed, and rode forth till they came to the foot of the mount. and there the king commanded them to tarry, for he would himself go up into that mount. so he ascended the hill till he came to a great fire, and there he found an aged woman sitting by a new-made grave, making great sorrow. then king arthur saluted her, and demanded of her wherefore she made such lamentation; to whom she answered: "sir knight, speak low, for yonder is a devil, and if he hear thee speak, he will come and destroy thee. for ye cannot make resistance to him, he is so fierce and so strong. he hath murdered the duchess, which here lieth, who was the fairest of all the world, wife to sir hoel, duke of brittany." "dame," said the king, "i come from the noble conqueror, king arthur, to treat with that tyrant." "fie on such treaties," said she; "he setteth not by the king, nor by no man else." "well," said arthur, "i will accomplish my message for all your fearful words." so he went forth by the crest of the hill, and saw where the giant sat at supper, gnawing on the limb of a man, and baking his broad limbs at the fire, and three fair damsels lying bound, whose lot it was to be devoured in their turn. when king arthur beheld that, he had great compassion on them, so that his heart bled for sorrow. then he hailed the giant, saying, "he that all the world ruleth give thee short life and shameful death. why hast thou murdered this duchess? therefore come forth, for this day thou shalt die by my hand." then the giant started up, and took a great club, and smote at the king, and smote off his coronal; and then the king struck him in the belly with his sword, and made a fearful wound. then the giant threw away his club, and caught the king in his arms, so that he crushed his ribs. then the three maidens kneeled down and prayed for help and comfort for arthur. and arthur weltered and wrenched, so that he was one while under, and another time above. and so weltering and wallowing they rolled down the hill, and ever as they weltered arthur smote him with his dagger; and it fortuned they came to the place where the two knights were. and when they saw the king fast in the giant's arms they came and loosed him. then the king commanded sir kay to smite off the giant's head, and to set it on the truncheon of a spear, and fix it on the barbican, that all the people might see and behold it. this was done, and anon it was known through all the country, wherefor the people came and thanked the king. and he said, "give your thanks to god; and take ye the giant's spoil and divide it among you." and king arthur caused a church to be builded on that hill, in honor of st. michael. king arthur gets a sword from the lady of the lake one day king arthur rode forth, and on a sudden he was ware of three churls chasing merlin, to have slain him. and the king rode unto them and bade them, "flee, churls!" then were they afraid when they saw a knight, and fled. "o merlin," said arthur, "here hadst thou been slain, for all thy crafts, had i not been by." "nay," said merlin, "not so, for i could save myself if i would; but thou art more near thy death than i am." so, as they went thus talking, king arthur perceived where sat a knight on horseback, as if to guard the pass. "sir knight," said arthur, "for what cause abidest thou here?" then the knight said, "there may no knight ride this way unless he just with me, for such is the custom of the pass." "i will amend that custom," said the king. then they ran together, and they met so hard that their spears were shivered. then they drew their swords and fought a strong battle, with many great strokes. but at length the sword of the knight smote king arthur's sword in two pieces. then said the knight unto arthur, "thou art in my power, whether to save thee or slay thee, and unless thou yield thee as overcome and recreant, thou shalt die." "as for death," said king arthur, "welcome be it when it cometh; but to yield me unto thee as recreant, i will not." then he leapt upon the knight, and took him by the middle and threw him down; but the knight was a passing strong man, and anon he brought arthur under him, and would have razed off his helm to slay him. then said merlin, "knight, hold thy hand, for this knight is a man of more worship than thou art aware of." "why, who is he?" said the knight. "it is king arthur." then would he have slain him for dread of his wrath, and lifted up his sword to slay him; and therewith merlin cast an enchantment on the knight, so that he fell to the earth in a great sleep. then merlin took up king arthur, and set him on his horse. "alas!" said arthur, "what hast thou done, merlin? hast thou slain this good knight by thy crafts?" "care ye not," said merlin; "he is wholer than ye be. he is only asleep, and will wake in three hours." then the king and he departed, and went till they came to a hermit, that was a good man and a great leech. so the hermit searched all his wounds, and applied good salves; and the king was there three days, and then were his wounds well amended, that he might ride and go. so they departed, and as they rode arthur said, "i have no sword." "no matter," said merlin; "hereby is a sword that shall be yours." so they rode till they came to a lake, which was a fair water and broad. and in the midst of the lake arthur was aware of an arm clothed in white samite, [footnote: samite, a sort of silk stuff.] that held a fair sword in the hand. "lo!" said merlin, "yonder is that sword that i spake of. it belongeth to the lady of the lake, and, if she will, thou mayest take it; but if she will not, it will not be in thy power to take it." so sir arthur and merlin alighted from their horses, and went into a boat. and when they came to the sword that the hand held sir arthur took it by the handle and took it to him, and the arm and the hand went under the water. then they returned unto the land and rode forth. and sir arthur looked on the sword and liked it right well. so they rode unto caerleon, whereof his knights were passing glad. and when they heard of his adventures they marvelled that he would jeopard his person so alone. but all men of worship said it was a fine thing to be under such a chieftain as would put his person in adventure as other poor knights did. chapter vi sir gawain sir gawain was nephew to king arthur, by his sister morgana, married to lot, king of orkney, who was by arthur made king of norway. sir gawain was one of the most famous knights of the round table, and is characterized by the romancers as the sage and courteous gawain. to this chaucer alludes in his "squiere's tale," where the strange knight "salueth" all the court "with so high reverence and observance, as well in speeche as in countenance, that gawain, with his olde curtesie, though he were come agen out of faerie, ne coude him not amenden with a word." gawain's brothers were agrivain, gahariet, and gareth. sir gawain's marriage once upon a time king arthur held his court in merry carlisle, when a damsel came before him and craved a boon. it was for vengeance upon a caitiff knight, who had made her lover captive and despoiled her of her lands. king arthur commanded to bring him his sword, excalibar, and to saddle his steed, and rode forth without delay to right the lady's wrong. ere long he reached the castle of the grim baron, and challenged him to the conflict. but the castle stood on magic ground, and the spell was such that no knight could tread thereon but straight his courage fell and his strength decayed. king arthur felt the charm, and before a blow was struck, his sturdy limbs lost their strength, and his head grew faint. he was fain to yield himself prisoner to the churlish knight, who refused to release him except upon condition that he should return at the end of a year, and bring a true answer to the question, "what thing is it which women most desire?" or in default thereof surrender himself and his lands. king arthur accepted the terms, and gave his oath to return at the time appointed. during the year the king rode east, and he rode west, and inquired of all whom he met what thing it is which all women most desire. some told him riches; some, pomp and state; some, mirth; some, flattery; and some, a gallant knight. but in the diversity of answers he could find no sure dependence. the year was well-nigh spent, when one day, as he rode thoughtfully through a forest, he saw sitting beneath a tree a lady of such hideous aspect that he turned away his eyes, and when she greeted him in seemly sort, made no answer. "what wight art thou," the lady said, "that will not speak to me? it may chance that i may resolve thy doubts, though i be not fair of aspect." "if thou wilt do so," said king arthur, "choose what reward thou wilt, thou grim lady, and it shall be given thee." "swear me this upon thy faith," she said, and arthur swore it. then the lady told him the secret, and demanded her reward, which was that the king should find some fair and courtly knight to be her husband. king arthur hastened to the grim baron's castle and told him one by one all the answers which he had received from his various advisers, except the last, and not one was admitted as the true one. "now yield thee, arthur," the giant said, "for thou hast not paid thy ransom, and thou and thy lands are forfeited to me." then king arthur said: "yet hold thy hand, thou proud baron, i pray thee hold thy hand, and give me leave to speak once more, in rescue of my land. this morn as i came over a moor, i saw a lady set, between an oak and a green holly, all clad in red scarlett. she says all women would have their will, this is their chief desire; now yield, as thou art a baron true, that i have paid my hire." "it was my sister that told thee this," the churlish baron exclaimed. "vengeance light on her! i will some time or other do her as ill a turn." king arthur rode homeward, but not light of heart, for he remembered the promise he was under to the loathly lady to--give her one of his young and gallant knights for a husband. he told his grief to sir gawain, his nephew, and he replied, "be not sad, my lord, for i will marry the loathly lady." king arthur replied: "now nay, now nay, good sir gawaine, my sister's son ye be; the loathly lady's all too grim, and all too foule for thee." but gawain persisted, and the king at last, with sorrow of heart, consented that gawain should be his ransom. so one day the king and his knights rode to the forest, met the loathly lady, and brought her to the court. sir gawain stood the scoffs and jeers of his companions as he best might, and the marriage was solemnized, but not with the usual festivities. chaucer tells us: "... there was no joye ne feste at alle; there n' as but hevinesse and mochel sorwe, for prively he wed her on the morwe, and all day after hid him as an owle, so wo was him his wife loked so foule!" [footnote: n'as is not was, contracted; in modern phrase, there was not. mochel sorwe is much sorrow; morwe is morrow.] when night came, and they were alone together, sir gawain could not conceal his aversion; and the lady asked him why he sighed so heavily, and turned away his face. he candidly confessed it was on account of three things, her age, her ugliness, and her low degree. the lady, not at all offended, replied with excellent arguments to all his objections. she showed him that with age is discretion, with ugliness security from rivals, and that all true gentility depends, not upon the accident of birth, but upon the character of the individual. sir gawain made no reply; but, turning his eyes on his bride, what was his amazement to perceive that she wore no longer the unseemly aspect that had so distressed him. she then told him that the form she had worn was not her true form, but a disguise imposed upon her by a wicked enchanter, and that she was condemned to wear it until two things should happen: one, that she should obtain some young and gallant knight to be her husband. this having been done, one-half of the charm was removed. she was now at liberty to wear her true form for half the time, and she bade him choose whether he would have her fair by day, and ugly by night, or the reverse. sir gawain would fain have had her look her best by night, when he alone would see her, and show her repulsive visage, if at all, to others. but she reminded him how much more pleasant it would be to her to wear her best looks in the throng of knights and ladies by day. sir gawain yielded, and gave up his will to hers. this alone was wanting to dissolve the charm. the lovely lady now with joy assured him that she should change no more, but as she now was, so would she remain by night as well as by day. "sweet blushes stayned her rud-red cheek, her eyen were black as sloe, the ripening cherrye swelled her lippe, and all her neck was snow. sir gawain kist that ladye faire lying upon the sheete, and swore, as he was a true knight, the spice was never so swete." the dissolution of the charm which had held the lady also released her brother, the "grim baron," for he too had been implicated in it. he ceased to be a churlish oppressor, and became a gallant and generous knight as any at arthur's court. chapter vii caradoc briefbras; or, caradoc with the shrunken arm caradoc was the son of ysenne, the beautiful niece of arthur. he was ignorant who his father was, till it was discovered in the following manner: when the youth was of proper years to receive the honors of knighthood, king arthur held a grand court for the purpose of knighting him. on this occasion a strange knight presented himself, and challenged the knights of arthur's court to exchange blow for blow with him. his proposal was this--to lay his neck on a block for any knight to strike, on condition that, if he survived the blow, the knight should submit in turn to the same experiment. sir kay, who was usually ready to accept all challenges, pronounced this wholly unreasonable, and declared that he would not accept it for all the wealth in the world. and when the knight offered his sword, with which the operation was to be performed, no person ventured to accept it, till caradoc, growing angry at the disgrace which was thus incurred by the round table, threw aside his mantle and took it. "do you do this as one of the best knights?" said the stranger. "no," he replied, "but as one of the most foolish." the stranger lays his head upon the block, receives a blow which sends it rolling from his shoulders, walks after it, picks it up, replaces it with great success, and says he will return when the court shall be assembled next year, and claim his turn. when the anniversary arrived, both parties were punctual to their engagement. great entreaties were used by the king and queen, and the whole court, in behalf of caradoc, but the stranger was inflexible. the young knight laid his head upon the block, and more than once desired him to make an end of the business, and not keep him longer in so disagreeable a state of expectation. at last the stranger strikes him gently with the side of the sword, bids him rise, and reveals to him the fact that he is his father, the enchanter eliaures, and that he gladly owns him for a son, having proved his courage and fidelity to his word. but the favor of enchanters is short-lived and uncertain. eliaures fell under the influence of a wicked woman, who, to satisfy her pique against caradoc, persuaded the enchanter to fasten on his arm a serpent, which remained there sucking at his flesh and blood, no human skill sufficing either to remove the reptile or alleviate the torments which caradoc endured. caradoc was betrothed to guimier, sister to his bosom friend, cador, and daughter to the king of cornwall. as soon as they were informed of his deplorable condition, they set out for nantes, where caradoc's castle was, that guimier might attend upon him. when caradoc heard of their coming, his first emotion was that of joy and love. but soon he began to fear that the sight of his emaciated form, and of his sufferings, would disgust guimier; and this apprehension became so strong, that he departed secretly from nantes, and hid himself in a hermitage. he was sought far and near by the knights of arthur's court, and cador made a vow never to desist from the quest till he should have found him. after long wandering, cador discovered his friend in the hermitage, reduced almost to a skeleton, and apparently near his death. all other means of relief having already been tried in vain, cador at last prevailed on the enchanter eliaures to disclose the only method which could avail for his rescue. a maiden must be found, his equal in birth and beauty, and loving him better than herself, so that she would expose herself to the same torment to deliver him. two vessels were then to be provided, the one filled with sour wine, and the other with milk. caradoc must enter the first, so that the wine should reach his neck, and the maiden must get into the other, and, exposing her bosom upon the edge of the vessel, invite the serpent to forsake the withered flesh of his victim for this fresh and inviting food. the vessels were to be placed three feet apart, and as the serpent crossed from one to the other. a knight was to cut him in two. if he failed in his blow, caradoc would indeed be delivered, but it would be only to see his fair champion suffering the same cruel and hopeless torment. the sequel may be easily foreseen. guimier willingly exposed herself to the perilous adventure, and cador, with a lucky blow, killed the serpent. the arm in which caradoc had suffered so long recovered its strength, but not its shape, in consequence of which he was called caradoc briefbras, caradoc of the shrunken arm. caradoc and guimier are the hero and heroine of the ballad of the "boy and the mantle," which follows: "the boy and the mantle "in carlisle dwelt king arthur, a prince of passing might, and there maintained his table round, beset with many a knight. "and there he kept his christmas, with mirth and princely cheer, when lo! a strange and cunning boy before him did appear. "a kirtle and a mantle this boy had him upon, with brooches, rings, and ouches, full daintily bedone. "he had a sash of silk about his middle meet; and thus with seemly curtesie he did king arthur greet: "'god speed thee, brave king arthur. thus feasting in thy bower, and guenever, thy goodly queen, that fair and peerless flower. "'ye gallant lords and lordlings, i wish you all take heed, lest what ye deem a blooming rose should prove a cankered weed.' "then straightway from his bosom a little wand he drew; and with it eke a mantle, of wondrous shape and hue. "'now have thou here, king arthur, have this here of me, and give unto thy comely queen, all shapen as you see. "'no wife it shall become, that once hath been to blame.' then every knight in arthur's court sly glanced at his dame. "and first came lady guenever, the mantle she must try. this dame she was new-fangled, [ ] and of a roving eye. "when she had taken the mantle, and all with it was clad, from top to toe it shivered down, as though with shears beshred. "one while it was too long, another while too short, and wrinkled on her shoulders, in most unseemly sort. "now green, now red it seemed, then all of sable hue; 'beshrew me,' quoth king arthur, 'i think thou be'st not true!' "down she threw the mantle, no longer would she stay; but, storming like a fury, to her chamber flung away. "she cursed the rascal weaver, that had the mantle wrought; and doubly cursed the froward imp who thither had it brought. i had rather live in deserts, beneath the greenwood tree, than here, base king, among thy grooms the sport of them and thee.' "sir kay called forth his lady, and bade her to come near: 'yet dame, if thou be guilty, i pray thee now forbear.' "this lady, pertly giggling, with forward step came on, and boldly to the little boy with fearless face is gone. "when she had taken the mantle, with purpose for to wear, it shrunk up to her shoulder, and left her back all bare. "then every merry knight, that was in arthur's court, gibed and laughed and flouted, to see that pleasant sport. "down she threw the mantle, no longer bold or gay, but, with a face all pale and wan to her chamber slunk away. "then forth came an old knight a pattering o'er his creed, and proffered to the little boy five nobles to his meed: "'and all the time of christmas plum-porridge shall be thine, if thou wilt let my lady fair within the mantle shine.' "a saint his lady seemed, with step demure and slow, and gravely to the mantle with mincing face doth go. "when she the same had taken that was so fine and thin, it shrivelled all about her, and showed her dainty skin. "ah! little did her mincing, or his long prayers bestead; she had no more hung on her than a tassel and a thread. "down she threw the mantle, with terror and dismay, and with a face of scarlet to her chamber hied away. "sir cradock called his lady, and bade her to come near: 'come win this mantle, lady, and do me credit here: "'come win this mantle, lady, for now it shall be thine, if thou hast never done amiss, since first i made thee mine.' "the lady, gently blushing, with modest grace came on; and now to try the wondrous charm courageously is gone. "when she had ta'en the mantle, and put it on her back, about the hem it seemed to wrinkle and to crack. "'lie still,' she cried, 'o mantle! and shame me not for naught; i'll freely own whate'er amiss or blameful i have wrought. "'once i kissed sir cradock beneath the greenwood tree; once i kissed sir cradock's mouth, before he married me.' "when she had thus her shriven, and her worst fault had told, the mantle soon became her, right comely as it should. "most rich and fair of color, like gold it glittering shone, and much the knights in arthur's court admired her every one." [footnote : new-fangled--fond of novelty.] the ballad goes on to tell of two more trials of a similar kind, made by means of a boar's head and a drinking horn, in both of which the result was equally favorable with the first to sir cradock and his lady. it then concludes as follows: "thus boar's head, horn, and mantle were this fair couple's meed; and all such constant lovers, god send them well to speed" --percy's reliques. chapter viii launcelot of the lake king ban, of brittany, the faithful ally of arthur was attacked by his enemy claudas, and after a long war saw himself reduced to the possession of a single fortress, where he was besieged by his enemy. in this extremity he determined to solicit the assistance of arthur, and escaped in a dark night, with his wife helen and his infant son launcelot, leaving his castle in the hands of his seneschal, who immediately surrendered the place to claudas. the flames of his burning citadel reached the eyes of the unfortunate monarch during his flight and he expired with grief. the wretched helen, leaving her child on the brink of a lake, flew to receive the last sighs of her husband, and on returning perceived the little launcelot in the arms of a nymph, who, on the approach of the queen, threw herself into the lake with the child. this nymph was viviane, mistress of the enchanter merlin, better known by the name of the lady of the lake. launcelot received his appellation from having been educated at the court of this enchantress, whose palace was situated in the midst, not of a real, but, like the appearance which deceives the african traveller, of an imaginary lake, whose deluding resemblance served as a barrier to her residence. here she dwelt not alone, but in the midst of a numerous retinue, and a splendid court of knights and damsels. the queen, after her double loss, retired to a convent, where she was joined by the widow of bohort, for this good king had died of grief on hearing of the death of his brother ban. his two sons, lionel and bohort, were rescued by a faithful knight, and arrived in the shape of greyhounds at the palace of the lake, where, having resumed their natural form, they were educated along with their cousin launcelot. the fairy, when her pupil had attained the age of eighteen, conveyed him to the court of arthur for the purpose of demanding his admission to the honor of knighthood; and at the first appearance of the youthful candidate the graces of his person, which were not inferior to his courage and skill in arms, made an instantaneous and indelible impression on the heart of guenever, while her charms inspired him with an equally ardent and constant passion. the mutual attachment of these lovers exerted, from that time forth, an influence over the whole history of arthur. for the sake of guenever, launcelot achieved the conquest of northumberland, defeated gallehaut, king of the marches, who afterwards became his most faithful friend and ally, exposed himself in numberless encounters, and brought hosts of prisoners to the feet of his sovereign. sir launcelot after king arthur was come from rome into england all the knights of the table round resorted unto him and made him many justs and tournaments. and in especial sir launcelot of the lake in all tournaments and justs and deeds of arms, both for life and death, passed all other knights, and was never overcome, except it were by treason or enchantment; and he increased marvellously in worship, wherefore queen guenever had him in great favor, above all other knights. and for certain he loved the queen again above all other ladies; and for her he did many deeds of arms, and saved her from peril, through his noble chivalry. thus sir launcelot rested him long with play and game, and then he thought to prove himself in strange adventures; so he bade his nephew, sir lionel, to make him ready,-- "for we two will seek adventures." so they mounted on their horses, armed at all sights, and rode into a forest, and so into a deep plain. and the weather was hot about noon, and sir launcelot had great desire to sleep. then sir lionel espied a great apple-tree that stood by a hedge, and he said: "brother, yonder is a fair shadow--there may we rest us and our horses." "it is well said," replied sir launcelot. so they there alighted, and sir launcelot laid him down, and his helm under his head, and soon was asleep passing fast. and sir lionel waked while he slept. and presently there came three knights riding as fast as ever they might ride, and there followed them but one knight. and sir lionel thought he never saw so great a knight before. so within a while this great knight overtook one of those knights, and smote him so that he fell to the earth. then he rode to the second knight and smote him, and so he did to the third knight. then he alighted down and bound all the three knights fast with their own bridles. when sir lionel saw him do thus, he thought to assay him, and made him ready silently, not to awake sir launcelot, and rode after the strong knight, and bade him turn. and the other smote sir lionel so hard that horse and man fell to the earth; and then he alighted down and bound sir lionel, and threw him across his own horse; and so he served them all four, and rode with them away to his own castle. and when he came there he put them in a deep prison, in which were many more knights in great distress. now while sir launcelot lay under the apple-tree sleeping, there came by him four queens of great estate. and that the heat should not grieve them, there rode four knights about them, and bare a cloth of green silk on four spears, betwixt them and the sun. and the queens rode on four white mules. thus as they rode they heard by them a great horse grimly neigh. then they were aware of a sleeping knight, that lay all armed under an apple-tree; and as the queens looked on his face, they knew it was sir launcelot. then they began to strive for that knight, and each one said she would have him for her love. "we will not strive," said morgane le fay, that was king arthur's sister, "for i will put an enchantment upon him, that he shall not wake for six hours, and we will take him away to my castle; and then when he is surely within my hold, i will take the enchantment from him, and then let him choose which of us he will have for his love." so the enchantment was cast upon sir launcelot. and then they laid him upon his shield, and bare him so on horseback between two knights, and brought him unto the castle and laid him in a chamber, and at night they sent him his supper. and on the morning came early those four queens, richly dight, and bade him good morning, and he them again. "sir knight," they said, "thou must understand thou art our prisoner; and we know thee well, that thou art sir launcelot of the lake, king ban's son, and that thou art the noblest knight living. and we know well that there can no lady have thy love but one, and that is queen guenever; and now thou shalt lose her for ever, and she thee; and therefore it behooveth thee now to choose one of us. i am the queen morgane le fay, and here is the queen of north wales, and the queen of eastland, and the queen of the isles. now choose one of us which thou wilt have, for if thou choose not, in this prison thou shalt die." "this is a hard case," said sir launcelot, "that either i must die, or else choose one of you; yet had i liever to die in this prison with worship, than to have one of you for my paramour, for ye be false enchantresses." "well," said the queens, "is this your answer, that ye will refuse us." "yea, on my life it is," said sir launcelot. then they departed, making great sorrow. then at noon came a damsel unto him with his dinner, and asked him, "what cheer?" "truly, fair damsel," said sir launcelot, "never so ill." "sir," said she, "if you will be ruled by me, i will help you out of this distress. if ye will promise me to help my father on tuesday next, who hath made a tournament betwixt him and the king of north wales; for last tuesday my father lost the field." "fair maiden," said sir launcelot, "tell me what is your father's name, and then will i give you an answer." "sir knight," she said, "my father is king bagdemagus." "i know him well," said sir launcelot, "for a noble king and a good knight; and, by the faith of my body, i will be ready to do your father and you service at that day." so she departed, and came on the next morning early and found him ready, and brought him out of twelve locks, and brought him to his own horse, and lightly he saddled him, and so rode forth. and on the tuesday next he came to a little wood where the tournament should be. and there were scaffolds and holds, that lords and ladies might look on, and give the prize. then came into the field the king of north wales, with eightscore helms, and king badgemagus came with fourscore helms. and then they couched their spears, and came together with a great dash, and there were overthrown at the first encounter twelve of king bagdemagus's party and six of the king of north wales's party, and king bagdemagus's party had the worse. with that came sir launcelot of the lake, and thrust in with his spear in the thickest of the press; and he smote down five knights ere he held his hand; and he smote down the king of north wales, and he brake his thigh in that fall. and then the knights of the king of north wales would just no more; and so the gree was given to king bagdemagus. and sir launcelot rode forth with king bagdemagus unto his castle; and there he had passing good cheer, both with the king and with his daughter. and on the morn he took his leave, and told the king he would go and seek his brother, sir lionel, that went from him when he slept. so he departed, and by adventure he came to the same forest where he was taken sleeping. and in the highway he met a damsel riding on a white palfrey, and they saluted each other. "fair damsel," said sir launcelot, "know ye in this country any adventures?" "sir knight," said the damsel, "here are adventures near at hand, if thou durst pursue them." "why should i not prove adventures?" said sir launcelot, "since for that cause came i hither." "sir," said she, "hereby dwelleth a knight that will not be overmatched for any man i know, except thou overmatch him. his name is sir turquine, and, as i understand, he is a deadly enemy of king arthur, and he has in his prison good knights of arthur's court, threescore and more, that he hath won with his own hands." "damsel," said launcelot, "i pray you bring me unto this knight." so she told him, "hereby, within this mile, is his castle, and by it on the left hand is a ford for horses to drink of, and over that ford there groweth a fair tree, and on that tree hang many shields that good knights wielded aforetime, that are now prisoners; and on the tree hangeth a basin of copper and latten, and if thou strike upon that basin thou shalt hear tidings." and sir launcelot departed, and rode as the damsel had shown him, and shortly he came to the ford, and the tree where hung the shields and the basin. and among the shields he saw sir lionel's and sir hector's shields, besides many others of knights that he knew. then sir launcelot struck on the basin with the butt of his spear; and long he did so, but he saw no man. and at length he was ware of a great knight that drove a horse before him, and across the horse there lay an armed knight bounden. and as they came near, sir launcelot thought he should know the captive knight. then sir launcelot saw that it was sir gaheris, sir gawain's brother, a knight of the table round. "now, fair knight," said sir launcelot, "put that wounded knight off the horse, and let him rest awhile, and let us two prove our strength. for, as it is told me, thou hast done great despite and shame unto knights of the round table, therefore now defend thee." "if thou be of the table round," said sir turquine, "i defy thee and all thy fellowship." "that is overmuch said," said sir launcelot. then they put their spears in the rests, and came together with their horses as fast as they might run. and each smote the other in the middle of their shields, so that their horses fell under them, and the knights were both staggered; and as soon as they could clear their horses they drew out their swords and came together eagerly, and each gave the other many strong strokes, for neither shield nor harness might withstand their strokes. so within a while both had grimly wounds, and bled grievously. then at the last they were breathless both, and stood leaning upon their swords. "now, fellow," said sir turquine, "thou art the stoutest man that ever i met with, and best breathed; and so be it thou be not the knight that i hate above all other knights, the knight that slew my brother, sir carados, i will gladly accord with thee; and for thy love i will deliver all the prisoners that i have." "what knight is he that thou hatest so above others?" "truly," said sir turquine, "his name is sir launcelot of the lake." "i am sir launcelot of the lake, king ban's son of benwick, and very knight of the table round; and now i defy thee do thy best." "ah!" said sir turquine, "launcelot, thou art to me the most welcome that ever was knight; for we shall never part till the one of us be dead." and then they hurtled together like two wild bulls, rashing and lashing with their swords and shields, so that sometimes they fell, as it were, headlong. thus they fought two hours and more, till the ground where they fought was all bepurpled with blood. then at the last sir turquine waxed sore faint, and gave somewhat aback, and bare his shield full low for weariness. that spied sir launcelot, and leapt then upon him fiercely as a lion, and took him by the beaver of his helmet, and drew him down on his knees. and he raised off his helm, and smote his neck in sunder. and sir gaheris, when he saw sir turquine slain, said, "fair lord, i pray you tell me your name, for this day i say ye are the best knight in the world, for ye have slain this day in my sight the mightiest man and the best knight except you that ever i saw." "sir, my name is sir launcelot du lac, that ought to help you of right for king arthur's sake, and in especial for sir gawain's sake, your own dear brother. now i pray you, that ye go into yonder castle, and set free all the prisoners ye find there, for i am sure ye shall find there many knights of the table round, and especially my brother sir lionel. i pray you greet them all from me, and tell them i bid them take there such stuff as they find; and tell my brother to go unto the court and abide me there, for by the feast of pentecost i think to be there; but at this time i may not stop, for i have adventures on hand." so he departed, and sir gaheris rode into the castle, and took the keys from the porter, and hastily opened the prison door and let out all the prisoners. there was sir kay, sir brandeles, and sir galynde, sir bryan, and sir alyduke, sir hector de marys, and sir lionel, and many more. and when they saw sir gaheris they all thanked him, for they thought, because he was wounded, that he had slain sir turquine. "not so," said sir gaheris; "it was sir launcelot that slew him, right worshipfully; i saw it with mine eyes." sir launcelot rode till at nightfall he came to a fair castle, and therein he found an old gentlewoman, who lodged him with good- will, and there he had good cheer for him and his horse. and when time was, his host brought him to a fair chamber over the gate to his bed. then sir launcelot unarmed him, and set his harness by him, and went to bed, and anon he fell asleep. and soon after, there came one on horseback and knocked at the gate in great haste; and when sir launcelot heard this, he arose and looked out of the window, and saw by the moonlight three knights riding after that one man, and all three lashed on him with their swords, and that one knight turned on them knightly again and defended himself. "truly," said sir launcelot, "yonder one knight will i help, for it is shame to see three knights on one." then he took his harness and went out at the window by a sheet down to the four knights; and he said aloud, "turn you knights unto me, and leave your fighting with that knight." then the knights left sir kay, for it was he they were upon, and turned unto sir launcelot, and struck many great strokes at sir launcelot, and assailed him on every side. then sir kay addressed him to help sir launcelot, but he said, "nay, sir, i will none of your help; let me alone with them." so sir kay suffered him to do his will, and stood one side. and within six strokes sir launcelot had stricken them down. then they all cried, "sir knight, we yield us unto you." "as to that," said sir launcelot, "i will not take your yielding unto me. if so be ye will yield you unto sir kay the seneschal, i will save your lives, but else not." "fair knight," then they said, "we will do as thou commandest us." "then shall ye," said sir launcelot, "on whitsunday next, go unto the court of king arthur, and there shall ye yield you unto queen guenever, and say that sir kay sent you thither to be her prisoners." "sir," they said, "it shall be done, by the faith of our bodies;" and then they swore, every knight upon his sword. and so sir launcelot suffered them to depart. on the morn sir launcelot rose early and left sir kay sleeping; and sir launcelot took sir kay's armor, and his shield, and armed him, and went to the stable and took his horse, and so he departed. then soon after arose sir kay, and missed sir launcelot. and then he espied that he had taken his armor and his horse. "now, by my faith, i know well," said sir kay, "that he will grieve some of king arthur's knights, for they will deem that it is i, and will be bold to meet him. but by cause of his armor i am sure i shall ride in peace." then sir kay thanked his host and departed. sir launcelot rode in a deep forest, and there he saw four knights, under an oak, and they were of arthur's court. there was sir sagramour le desirus, and hector de marys, and sir gawain, and sir uwaine. as they spied sir launcelot they judged by his arms it had been sir kay. "now, by my faith," said sir sagramour, "i will prove sir kay's might;" and got his spear in his hand, and came towards sir launcelot. therewith sir launcelot couched his spear against him, and smote sir sagramour so sore that horse and man fell both to the earth. then said sir hector, "now shall ye see what i may do with him." but he fared worse than sir sagramour, for sir launcelot's spear went through his shoulder and bare him from his horse to the ground. "by my faith," said sir uwaine, "yonder is a strong knight, and i fear he hath slain sir kay, and taken his armor." and therewith sir uwaine took his spear in hand, and rode toward sir launcelot; and sir launcelot met him on the plain and gave him such a buffet that he was staggered, and wist not where he was. "now see i well," said sir gawain, "that i must encounter with that knight." then he adjusted his shield, and took a good spear in his hand, and sir launcelot knew him well. then they let run their horses with all their mights, and each knight smote the other in the middle of his shield. but sir gawain's spear broke, and sir launcelot charged so sore upon him that his horse fell over backward. then sir launcelot passed by smiling with himself, and he said, "good luck be with him that made this spear, for never came a better into my hand." then the four knights went each to the other and comforted one another. "what say ye to this adventure," said sir gawain, "that one spear hath felled us all four?" "i dare lay my head it is sir launcelot," said sir hector; "i know it by his riding." and sir launcelot rode through many strange countries, till by fortune he came to a fair castle; and as he passed beyond the castle he thought he heard two bells ring. and then he perceived how a falcon came flying over his head, toward a high elm; and she had long lunys [footnote: lunys, the string with which the falcon is held.] about her feet, and she flew unto the elm to take her perch, and the lunys got entangled in the bough; and when she would have taken her flight, she hung by the legs fast, and sir launcelot saw how she hung, and beheld the fair falcon entangled, and he was sorry for her. then came a lady out of the castle and cried aloud, "o launcelot, launcelot, as thou art the flower of all knights, help me to get my hawk; for if my hawk be lost, my lord will slay me, he is so hasty." "what is your lord's name?" said sir launcelot. "his name is sir phelot, a knight that belongeth to the king of north wales." "well, fair lady, since ye know my name, and require me of knighthood to help you, i will do what i may to get your hawk; and yet in truth i am an ill climber, and the tree is passing high, and few boughs to help me." and therewith sir launcelot alighted and tied his horse to the tree, and prayed the lady to unarm him. and when he was unarmed, he put off his jerkin, and with might and force he clomb up to the falcon, and tied the lunys to a rotten bough, and threw the hawk down with it; and the lady got the hawk in her hand. then suddenly there came out of the castle her husband, all armed, and with his naked sword in his hand, and said, "o knight launcelot, now have i got thee as i would," and stood at the boll of the tree to slay him. "ah, lady!" said sir launcelot, "why have ye betrayed me?" "she hath done," said sir phelot, "but as i commanded her; and therefore there is none other way but thine hour is come, and thou must die." "that were shame unto thee," said sir launcelot; "thou an armed knight to slay a naked man by treason." "thou gettest none other grace," said sir phelot, "and therefore help thyself if thou canst." "alas!" said sir launcelot, "that ever a knight should die weaponless!" and therewith he turned his eyes upward and downward; and over his head he saw a big bough leafless, and he brake it off from the trunk. and then he came lower, and watched how his own horse stood; and suddenly he leapt on the further side of his horse from the knight. then sir phelot lashed at him eagerly, meaning to have slain him. but sir launcelot put away the stroke, with the big bough, and smote sir phelot therewith on the side of the head, so that he fell down in a swoon to the ground. then sir launcelot took his sword out of his hand and struck his head from the body. then said the lady, "alas! why hast thou slain my husband?" "i am not the cause," said sir launcelot, "for with falsehood ye would have slain me, and now it is fallen on yourselves." thereupon sir launcelot got all his armor, and put it upon him hastily, for fear of more resort, for the knight's castle was so nigh. and as soon as he might, he took his horse and departed, and thanked god he had escaped that adventure. and two days before the feast of pentecost, sir launcelot came home; and the king and all the court were passing glad of his coming. and when sir gawain, sir uwaine, sir sagramour, and sir hector de marys saw sir launcelot in sir kay's armor then they wist well it was he that smote them down, all with one spear. then there was laughing and merriment among them; and from time to time came all the knights that sir turquine had prisoners, and they all honored and worshipped sir launcelot. then sir gaheris said, "i saw all the battle from the beginning to the end," and he told king arthur all how it was. then sir kay told the king how sir launcelot had rescued him, and how he "made the knights yield to me, and not to him." and there they were, all three, and confirmed it all "and, by my faith," said sir kay, "because sir launcelot took my harness and left me his, i rode in peace, and no man would have to do with me." and so at that time sir launcelot had the greatest name of any knight of the world, and most was he honored of high and low. chapter ix the adventure of the cart it befell in the month of may, queen guenever called to her knights of the table round, and gave them warning that early upon the morrow she would ride a-maying into the woods and fields beside westminster; "and i warn you that there be none of you but he be well horsed, and that ye all be clothed in green, either silk or cloth; and i shall bring with me ten ladies, and every knight shall have a lady behind him, and every knight shall have a squire and two yeoman, and all well horsed." "for thus it chanced one morn when all the court, green-suited, but with plumes that mock'd the may, had been, their wont, a-maying" --guinevere. so they made them ready; and these were the names of the knights: sir kay the seneschal, sir agrivaine, sir brandiles, sir sagramour le desirus, sir dodynas le sauvage, sir ozanna, sir ladynas, sir persant of inde, sir ironside, and sir pelleas; and these ten knights made them ready, in the freshest manner, to ride with the queen. so upon the morn they took their horses with the queen, and rode a-maying in woods and meadows, as it pleased them, in great joy and delight. now there was a knight named maleagans, son to king brademagus, who loved queen guenever passing well, and so had he done long and many years. now this knight, sir maleagans, learned the queen's purpose, and that she had no men of arms with her but the ten noble knights all arrayed in green for maying; so he prepared him twenty men of arms, and a hundred archers, to take captive the queen and her knights. "in the merry month of may, in a morn at break of day, with a troop of damsels playing, the queen, forsooth, went forth a-maying." --old song. so when the queen had mayed, and all were bedecked with herbs, mosses, and flowers in the best manner and freshest, right then came out of a wood sir maleagans with eightscore men well harnessed, and bade the queen and her knights yield them prisoners. "traitor knight," said queen guenever, "what wilt thou do? wilt thou shame thyself? bethink thee how thou art a king's son, and a knight of the table round, and how thou art about to dishonor all knighthood and thyself?" "be it as it may," said sir maleagans, "know you well, madam, i have loved you many a year and never till now could i get you to such advantage as i do now; and therefore i will take you as i find you." then the ten knights of the round table drew their swords, and the other party run at them with their spears, and the ten knights manfully abode them, and smote away their spears. then they lashed together with swords till several were smitten to the earth. so when the queen saw her knights thus dolefully oppressed, and needs must be slain at the last, then for pity and sorrow she cried, "sir maleagans, slay not my noble knights and i will go with you, upon this covenant, that they be led with me wheresoever thou leadest me." "madame," said maleagans, "for your sake they shall be led with you into my own castle, if that ye will be ruled, and ride with me." then sir maleagans charged them all that none should depart from the queen, for he dreaded lest sir launcelot should have knowledge of what had been done. then the queen privily called unto her a page of her chamber that was swiftly horsed, to whom she said, "go thou when thou seest thy time, and bear this ring unto sir launcelot, and pray him as he loveth me, that he will see me and rescue me. and spare not thy horse," said the queen, "neither for water nor for land." so the child espied his time, and lightly he took his horse with the spurs and departed as fast as he might. and when sir maleagans saw him so flee, he understood that it was by the queen's commandment for to warn sir launcelot. then they that were best horsed chased him, and shot at him, but the child went from them all. then sir maleagans said to the queen, "madam, ye are about to betray me, but i shall arrange for sir launcelot that he shall not come lightly at you." then he rode with her and them all to his castle, in all the haste that they might. and by the way sir maleagans laid in ambush the best archers that he had to wait for sir launcelot. and the child came to westminster and found sir launcelot and told his message and delivered him the queen's ring. "alas!" said sir launcelot, "now am i shamed for ever, unless i may rescue that noble lady." then eagerly he asked his armor and put it on him, and mounted his horse and rode as fast as he might; and men say he took the water at westminster bridge, and made his horse swim over thames unto lambeth. then within a while he came to a wood where was a narrow way; and there the archers were laid in ambush. and they shot at him and smote his horse so that he fell. then sir launcelot left his horse and went on foot, but there lay so many ditches and hedges betwixt the archers and him that he might not meddle with them. "alas! for shame," said sir launcelot, "that ever one knight should betray another! but it is an old saw, a good man is never in danger, but when he is in danger of a coward." then sir launcelot went awhile and he was exceedingly cumbered by his armor, his shield, and his spear, and all that belonged to him. then by chance there came by him a cart that came thither to fetch wood. now at this time carts were little used except for carrying offal and for conveying criminals to execution. but sir launcelot took no thought of anything but the necessity of haste for the purpose of rescuing the queen; so he demanded of the carter that he should take him in and convey him as speedily as possible for a liberal reward. the carter consented, and sir launcelot placed himself in the cart and only lamented that with much jolting he made but little progress. then it happened sir gawain passed by and seeing an armed knight travelling in that unusual way he drew near to see who it might be. then sir launcelot told him how the queen had been carried off, and how, in hastening to her rescue, his horse had been disabled and he had been compelled to avail himself of the cart rather than give up his enterprise. then sir gawain said, "surely it is unworthy of a knight to travel in such sort;" but sir launcelot heeded him not. at nightfall they arrived at a castle and the lady thereof came out at the head of her damsels to welcome sir gawain. but to admit his companion, whom she supposed to be a criminal, or at least a prisoner, it pleased her not; however, to oblige sir gawain, she consented. at supper sir launcelot came near being consigned to the kitchen and was only admitted to the lady's table at the earnest solicitation of sir gawain. neither would the damsels prepare a bed for him. he seized the first he found unoccupied and was left undisturbed. next morning he saw from the turrets of the castle a train accompanying a lady, whom he imagined to be the queen. sir gawain thought it might be so, and became equally eager to depart. the lady of the castle supplied sir launcelot with a horse and they traversed the plain at full speed. they learned from some travellers whom they met, that there were two roads which led to the castle of sir maleagans. here therefore the friends separated. sir launcelot found his way beset with obstacles, which he encountered successfully, but not without much loss of time. as evening approached he was met by a young and sportive damsel, who gayly proposed to him a supper at her castle. the knight, who was hungry and weary, accepted the offer, though with no very good grace. he followed the lady to her castle and ate voraciously of her supper, but was quite impenetrable to all her amorous advances. suddenly the scene changed and he was assailed by six furious ruffians, whom he dealt with so vigorously that most of them were speedily disabled, when again there was a change and he found himself alone with his fair hostess, who informed him that she was none other than his guardian fairy, who had but subjected him to tests of his courage and fidelity. the next day the fairy brought him on his road, and before parting gave him a ring, which she told him would by its changes of color disclose to him all enchantments, and enable him to subdue them. sir launcelot pursued his journey, without being much incommoded except by the taunts of travellers, who all seemed to have learned, by some means, his disgraceful drive in the cart. one, more insolent than the rest, had the audacity to interrupt him during dinner, and even to risk a battle in support of his pleasantry. launcelot, after an easy victory, only doomed him to be carted in his turn. at night he was received at another castle, with great apparent hospitality, but found himself in the morning in a dungeon, and loaded with chains. consulting his ring, and finding that this was an enchantment, he burst his chains, seized his armor in spite of the visionary monsters who attempted to defend it, broke open the gates of the tower, and continued his journey. at length his progress was checked by a wide and rapid torrent, which could only be passed on a narrow bridge, on which a false step would prove his destruction. launcelot, leading his horse by the bridle, and making him swim by his side, passed over the bridge, and was attacked as soon as he reached the bank by a lion and a leopard, both of which he slew, and then, exhausted and bleeding, seated himself on the grass, and endeavored to bind up his wounds, when he was accosted by brademagus, the father of maleagans, whose castle was then in sight, and at no great distance. this king, no less courteous than his son was haughty and insolent, after complimenting sir launcelot on the valor and skill he had displayed in the perils of the bridge and the wild beasts, offered him his assistance, and informed him that the queen was safe in his castle, but could only be rescued by encountering maleagans. launcelot demanded the battle for the next day, and accordingly it took place, at the foot of the tower, and under the eyes of the fair captive. launcelot was enfeebled by his wounds, and fought not with his usual spirit, and the contest for a time was doubtful; till guenever exclaimed, "ah, launcelot! my knight, truly have i been told that thou art no longer worthy of me!" these words instantly revived the drooping knight; he resumed at once his usual superiority, and soon laid at his feet his haughty adversary. he was on the point of sacrificing him to his resentment, when guenever, moved by the entreaties of brademagus, ordered him to withhold the blow, and he obeyed. the castle and its prisoners were now at his disposal. launcelot hastened to the apartment of the queen, threw himself at her feet, and was about to kiss her hand, when she exclaimed, "ah, launcelot! why do i see thee again, yet feel thee to be no longer worthy of me, after having been disgracefully drawn about the country in a--" she had not time to finish the phrase, for her lover suddenly started from her, and, bitterly lamenting that he had incurred the displeasure of his sovereign lady, rushed out of the castle, threw his sword and his shield to the right and left, ran furiously into the woods, and disappeared. it seems that the story of the abominable cart, which haunted launcelot at every step, had reached the ears of sir kay, who had told it to the queen, as a proof that her knight must have been dishonored. but guenever had full leisure to repent the haste with which she had given credit to the tale. three days elapsed, during which launcelot wandered without knowing where he went, till at last he began to reflect that his mistress had doubtless been deceived by misrepresentation, and that it was his duty to set her right. he therefore returned, compelled maleagans to release his prisoners, and, taking the road by which they expected the arrival of sir gawain, had the satisfaction of meeting him the next day; after which the whole company proceeded gayly towards camelot. chapter x the lady of shalott king arthur proclaimed a solemn tournament to be held at winchester. the king, not less impatient than his knights for this festival, set off some days before to superintend the preparations, leaving the queen with her court at camelot. sir launcelot, under pretence of indisposition, remained behind also. his intention was to attend the tournament--in disguise; and having communicated his project to guenever, he mounted his horse, set off without any attendant, and, counterfeiting the feebleness of age, took the most unfrequented road to winchester, and passed unnoticed as an old knight who was going to be a spectator of the sports. even arthur and gawain, who happened to behold him from the windows of a castle under which he passed, were the dupes of his disguise. but an accident betrayed him. his horse happened to stumble, and the hero, forgetting for a moment his assumed character, recovered the animal with a strength and agility so peculiar to himself, that they instantly recognized the inimitable launcelot. they suffered him, however, to proceed on his journey without interruption, convinced that his extraordinary feats of arms must discover him at the approaching festival. in the evening launcelot was magnificently entertained as a stranger knight at the neighboring castle of shalott. the lord of this castle had a daughter of exquisite beauty, and two sons lately received into the order of knighthood, one of whom was at that time ill in bed, and thereby prevented from attending the tournament, for which both brothers had long made preparation. launcelot offered to attend the other, if he were permitted to borrow the armor of the invalid, and the lord of shalott, without knowing the name of his guest, being satisfied from his appearance that his son could not have a better assistant in arms, most thankfully accepted the offer. in the meantime the young lady, who had been much struck by the first appearance of the stranger knight, continued to survey him with increased attention, and, before the conclusion of supper, became so deeply enamoured of him, that after frequent changes of color, and other symptoms which sir launcelot could not possibly mistake, she was obliged to retire to her chamber, and seek relief in tears. sir launcelot hastened to convey to her, by means of her brother, the information that his heart was already disposed of, but that it would be his pride and pleasure to act as her knight at the approaching tournament. the lady, obliged to be satisfied with that courtesy, presented him her scarf to be worn at the tournament. launcelot set off in the morning with the young knight, who, on their approaching winchester, carried him to the castle of a lady, sister to the lord of shalott, by whom they were hospitably entertained. the next day they put on their armor, which was perfectly plain and without any device, as was usual to youths during the first year of knighthood, their shields being only painted red, as some color was necessary to enable them to be recognized by their attendants. launcelot wore on his crest the scarf of the maid of shalott, and, thus equipped, proceeded to the tournament, where the knights were divided into two companies, the one commanded by sir galehaut, the other by king arthur. having surveyed the combat for a short time from without the lists, and observed that sir galehaut's party began to give way, they joined the press and attacked the royal knights, the young man choosing such adversaries as were suited to his strength, while his companion selected the principal champions of the round table, and successively overthrew gawain, bohort, and lionel. the astonishment of the spectators was extreme, for it was thought that no one but launcelot could possess such invincible force; yet the favor on his crest seemed to preclude the possibility of his being thus disguised, for launcelot had never been known to wear the badge of any but his sovereign lady. at length sir hector, launcelot's brother, engaged him, and, after a dreadful combat, wounded him dangerously in the head, but was himself completely stunned by a blow on the helmet, and felled to the ground; after which the conqueror rode off at full speed, attended by his companion. they returned to the castle of shalott, where launcelot was attended with the greatest care by the good earl, by his two sons, and, above all, by his fair daughter, whose medical skill probably much hastened the period of his recovery. his health was almost completely restored, when sir hector, sir bohort, and sir lionel, who, after the return of the court to camelot, had undertaken the quest of their relation, discovered him walking on the walls of the castle. their meeting was very joyful; they passed three days in the castle amidst constant festivities, and bantered each other on the events of the tournament. launcelot, though he began by vowing vengeance against the author of his wound, yet ended by declaring that he felt rewarded for the pain by the pride he took in witnessing his brother's extraordinary prowess. he then dismissed them with a message to the queen, promising to follow immediately, it being necessary that he should first take a formal leave of his kind hosts, as well as of the fair maid of shalott. the young lady, after vainly attempting to detain him by her tears and solicitations, saw him depart without leaving her any ground for hope. it was early summer when the tournament took place; but some months had passed since launcelot's departure, and winter was now near at hand. the health and strength of the lady of shalott had gradually sunk, and she felt that she could not live apart from the object of her affections. she left the castle, and descending to the river's brink placed herself in a boat, which she loosed from its moorings, and suffered to bear her down the current toward camelot. one morning, as arthur and sir lionel looked from the window of the tower, the walls of which were washed by a river, they descried a boat richly ornamented, and covered with an awning of cloth of gold, which appeared to be floating down the stream without any human guidance. it struck the shore while they watched it, and they hastened down to examine it. beneath the awning they discovered the dead body of a beautiful woman, in whose features sir lionel easily recognized the lovely maid of shalott. pursuing their search, they discovered a purse richly embroidered with gold and jewels, and within the purse a letter, which arthur opened, and found addressed to himself and all the knights of the round table, stating that launcelot of the lake, the most accomplished of knights and most beautiful of men, but at the same time the most cruel and inflexible, had by his rigor produced the death of the wretched maiden, whose love was no less invincible than his cruelty. the king immediately gave orders for the interment of the lady with all the honors suited to her rank, at the same time explaining to the knights the history of her affection for launcelot, which moved the compassion and regret of all. tennyson has chosen the story of the "lady of shalott" for the subject of a poem. the catastrophe is told thus: "under tower and balcony, by garden-wall and gallery, a gleaming shape she floated by, a corse between the houses high, silent into camelot. out upon the wharfs they came, knight and burgher, lord and dame, and round the prow they read her name, 'the lady of shalott' "who is this? and what is here? and in the lighted palace near died the sound of royal cheer; and they crossed themselves for fear, all the knights at camelot. but launcelot mused a little space; he said, 'she has a lovely face; god in his mercy lend her grace, the lady of shalott.'" chapter xi queen guenever's peril it happened at this time that queen guenever was thrown into great peril of her life. a certain squire who was in her immediate service, having some cause of animosity to sir gawain, determined to destroy him by poison, at a public entertainment. for this purpose he concealed the poison in an apple of fine appearance, which he placed on the top of several others, and put the dish before the queen, hoping that, as sir gawain was the knight of greatest dignity, she would present the apple to him. but it happened that a scottish knight of high distinction, who arrived on that day, was seated next to the queen, and to him as a stranger she presented the apple, which he had no sooner eaten than he was seized with dreadful pain, and fell senseless. the whole court was, of course, thrown into confusion; the knights rose from table, darting looks of indignation at the wretched queen, whose tears and protestations were unable to remove their suspicions. in spite of all that could be done the knight died, and nothing remained but to order a magnificent funeral and monument for him, which was done. some time after sir mador, brother of the murdered knight, arrived at arthur's court in quest of him. while hunting in the forest he by chance came to the spot where the monument was erected, read the inscription, and returned to court determined on immediate and signal vengeance. he rode into the hall, loudly accused the queen of treason, and insisted on her being given up for punishment, unless she should find by a certain day a knight hardy enough to risk his life in support of her innocence. arthur, powerful as he was, did not dare to deny the appeal, but was compelled with a heavy heart to accept it, and mador sternly took his departure, leaving the royal couple plunged in terror and anxiety. during all this time launcelot was absent, and no one knew where he was. he fled in anger from his fair mistress, upon being reproached by her with his passion for the lady of shalott, which she had hastily inferred from his wearing her scarf at the tournament. he took up his abode with a hermit in the forest, and resolved to think no more of the cruel beauty, whose conduct he thought must flow from a wish to get rid of him. yet calm reflection had somewhat cooled his indignation, and he had begun to wish, though hardly able to hope, for a reconciliation when the news of sir mador's challenge fortunately reached his ears. the intelligence revived his spirits, and he began to prepare with the utmost cheerfulness for a contest which, if successful, would insure him at once the affection of his mistress and the gratitude of his sovereign. the sad fate of the lady of shalott had ere this completely acquitted launcelot in the queen's mind of all suspicion of his fidelity, and she lamented most grievously her foolish quarrel with him, which now, at her time of need, deprived her of her most efficient champion. as the day appointed by sir mador was fast approaching, it became necessary that she should procure a champion for her defence; and she successively adjured sir hector, sir lionel, sir bohort, and sir gawain to undertake the battle. she fell on her knees before them, called heaven to witness her innocence of the crime alleged against her, but was sternly answered by all that they could not fight to maintain the innocence of one whose act, and the fatal consequence of it, they had seen with their own eyes. she retired, therefore, dejected and disconsolate; but the sight of the fatal pile on which, if guilty, she was doomed to be burned, exciting her to fresh effort, she again repaired to sir bohort, threw herself at his feet, and piteously calling on him for mercy, fell into a swoon. the brave knight was not proof against this. he raised her up, and hastily promised that he would undertake her cause, if no other or better champion should present himself. he then summoned his friends, and told them his resolution; and as a mortal combat with sir mador was a most fearful enterprise, they agreed to accompany him in the morning to the hermitage in the forest, where he proposed to receive absolution from the hermit, and to make his peace with heaven before he entered the lists. as they approached the hermitage, they espied a knight riding in the forest, whom they at once recognized as sir launcelot. overjoyed at the meeting, they quickly, in answer to his questions, confirmed the news of the queen's imminent danger, and received his instructions to return to court, to comfort her as well as they could, but to say nothing of his intention of undertaking her defence, which he meant to do in the character of an unknown adventurer. on their return to the castle they found that mass was finished, and had scarcely time to speak to the queen before they were summoned into the hall to dinner. a general gloom was spread over the countenances of all the guests. arthur himself was unable to conceal his dejection, and the wretched guenever, motionless and bathed in tears, sat in trembling expectation of sir mador's appearance. nor was it long ere he stalked into the hall, and with a voice of thunder, rendered more impressive by the general silence, demanded instant justice on the guilty party. arthur replied with dignity, that little of the day was yet spent, and that perhaps a champion might yet be found capable of satisfying his thirst for battle. sir bohort now rose from table, and shortly returning in complete armor, resumed his place, after receiving the embraces and thanks of the king, who now began to resume some degree of confidence. sir mador, growing impatient, again repeated his denunciations of vengeance, and insisted that the combat should no longer be postponed. in the height of the debate there came riding into the hall a knight mounted on a black steed, and clad in black armor, with his visor down, and lance in hand. "sir," said the king, "is it your will to alight and partake of our cheer?" "nay, sir," he replied; "i come to save a lady's life. the queen hath ill bestowed her favors, and honored many a knight, that in her hour of need she should have none to take her part. thou that darest accuse her of treachery, stand forth, for to-day shalt thou need all thy might." sir mador, though surprised, was not appalled by the stern challenge and formidable appearance of his antagonist, but prepared for the encounter. at the first shock both were unhorsed. they then drew their swords, and commenced a combat which lasted from noon till evening, when sir mador, whose strength began to fail, was felled to the ground by launcelot, and compelled to sue for mercy. the victor, whose arm was already raised to terminate the life of his opponent, instantly dropped his sword, courteously lifted up the fainting sir mador, frankly confessing that he had never before encountered so formidable an enemy. the other, with similar courtesy, solemnly renounced all further projects of vengeance for his brother's death; and the two knights, now become fast friends, embraced each other with the greatest cordiality. in the meantime arthur, having recognized sir launcelot, whose helmet was now unlaced, rushed down into the lists, followed by all his knights, to welcome and thank his deliverer. guenever swooned with joy, and the place of combat suddenly exhibited a scene of the most tumultuous delight. the general satisfaction was still further increased by the discovery of the real culprit. having accidentally incurred some suspicion, he confessed his crime, and was publicly punished in the presence of sir mador. the court now returned to the castle, which, with the title of "la joyeuse garde" bestowed upon it in memory of the happy event, was conferred on sir launcelot by arthur, as a memorial of his gratitude. chapter xii tristram and isoude meliadus was king of leonois, or lionesse, a country famous in the annals of romance, which adjoined the kingdom of cornwall, but has now disappeared from the map, having been, it is said, overwhelmed by the ocean. meliadus was married to isabella, sister of mark, king of cornwall. a fairy fell in love with him, and drew him away by enchantment while he was engaged in hunting. his queen set out in quest of him, but was taken ill on her journey, and died, leaving an infant son, whom, from the melancholy circumstances of his birth, she called tristram. gouvernail, the queen's squire, who had accompanied her, took charge of the child, and restored him to his father, who had at length burst the enchantments of the fairy, and returned home. meliadus after seven years married again, and the new queen, being jealous of the influence of tristram with his father, laid plots for his life, which were discovered by gouvernail, who in consequence fled with the boy to the court of the king of france, where tristram was kindly received, and grew up improving in every gallant and knightly accomplishment, adding to his skill in arms the arts of music and of chess. in particular, he devoted himself to the chase and to all woodland sports, so that he became distinguished above all other chevaliers of the court for his knowledge of all that relates to hunting. no wonder that belinda, the king's daughter, fell in love with him; but as he did not return her passion, she, in a sudden impulse of anger, excited her father against him, and he was banished the kingdom. the princess soon repented of her act, and in despair destroyed herself, having first written a most tender letter to tristram, sending him at the same time a beautiful and sagacious dog, of which she was very fond, desiring him to keep it as a memorial of her. meliadus was now dead, and as his queen, tristram's stepmother, held the throne, gouvernail was afraid to carry his pupil to his native country, and took him to cornwall, to his uncle mark, who gave him a kind reception. king mark resided at the castle of tintadel, already mentioned in the history of uther and igerne. in this court tristram became distinguished in all the exercises incumbent on a knight; nor was it long before he had an opportunity of practically employing his valor and skill. moraunt, a celebrated champion, brother to the queen of ireland, arrived at the court, to demand tribute of king mark. the knights of cornwall are in ill repute in romance for their cowardice, and they exhibited it on this occasion. king mark could find no champion who dared to encounter the irish knight, till his nephew tristram, who had not yet received the honors of knighthood, craved to be admitted to the order, offering at the same time to fight the battle of cornwall against the irish champion. king mark assented with reluctance; tristram received the accolade, which conferred knighthood upon him, and the place and time were assigned for the encounter. without attempting to give the details of this famous combat, the first and one of the most glorious of tristram's exploits, we shall only say that the young knight, though severely wounded, cleft the head of moraunt, leaving a portion of his sword in the wound. moraunt, half dead with his wound and the disgrace of his defeat, hastened to hide himself in his ship, sailed away with all speed for ireland, and died soon after arriving in his own country. the kingdom of cornwall was thus delivered from its tribute. tristram, weakened by loss of blood, fell senseless. his friends flew to his assistance. they dressed his wounds, which in general healed readily; but the lance of moraunt was poisoned, and one wound which it made yielded to no remedies, but grew worse day by day. the surgeons could do no more. tristram asked permission of his uncle to depart, and seek for aid in the kingdom of loegria (england). with his consent he embarked, and after tossing for many days on the sea, was driven by the winds to the coast of ireland. he landed, full of joy and gratitude that he had escaped the peril of the sea; took his rote,[footnote: a musical instrument.] and began to play. it was a summer evening, and the king of ireland and his daughter, the beautiful isoude, were at a window which overlooked the sea. the strange harper was sent for, and conveyed to the palace, where, finding that he was in ireland, whose champion he had lately slain, he concealed his name, and called himself tramtris. the queen undertook his cure, and by a medicated bath gradually restored him to health. his skill in music and in games occasioned his being frequently called to court, and he became the instructor of the princess isoude in minstrelsy and poetry, who profited so well under his care, that she soon had no equal in the kingdom, except her instructor. at this time a tournament was held, at which many knights of the round table, and others, were present. on the first day a saracen prince, named palamedes, obtained the advantage over all. they brought him to the court, and gave him a feast, at which tristram, just recovering from his wound, was present. the fair isoude appeared on this occasion in all her charms. palamedes could not behold them without emotion, and made no effort to conceal his love. tristram perceived it, and the pain he felt from jealousy taught him how dear the fair isoude had already become to him. next day the tournament was renewed. tristram, still feeble from his wound, rose during the night, took his arms, and concealed them in a forest near the place of the contest, and, after it had begun, mingled with the combatants. he overthrew all that encountered him, in particular palamedes, whom he brought to the ground with a stroke of his lance, and then fought him hand to hand, bearing off the prize of the tourney. but his exertions caused his wound to reopen; he bled fast, and in this sad state, yet in triumph, they bore him to the palace. the fair isoude devoted herself to his relief with an interest which grew more vivid day by day; and her skilful care soon restored him to health. it happened one day that a damsel of the court, entering the closet where tristram's arms were deposited, perceived that a part of the sword had been broken off. it occurred to her that the missing portion was like that which was left in the skull of moraunt, the irish champion. she imparted her thought to the queen, who compared the fragment taken from her brother's wound with the sword of tristram, and was satisfied that it was part of the same, and that the weapon of tristram was that which reft her brother's life. she laid her griefs and resentment before the king, who satisfied himself with his own eyes of the truth of her suspicions. tristram was cited before the whole court, and reproached with having dared to present himself before them after having slain their kinsman. he acknowledged that he had fought with moraunt to settle the claim for tribute, and said that it was by force of winds and waves alone that he was thrown on their coast. the queen demanded vengeance for the death of her brother; the fair isoude trembled and grew pale, but a murmur rose from all the assembly that the life of one so handsome and so brave should not be taken for such a cause, and generosity finally triumphed over resentment in the mind of the king. tristram was dismissed in safety, but commanded to leave the kingdom without delay, and never to return thither under pain of death tristram went back, with restored health, to cornwall. king mark made his nephew give him a minute recital of his adventures. tristram told him all minutely; but when he came to speak of the fair isoude he described her charms with a warmth and energy such as none but a lover could display. king mark was fascinated with the description, and, choosing a favorable time, demanded a boon[footnote: "good faith was the very corner-stone of chivalry. whenever a knight's word was pledged (it mattered not how rashly) it was to be redeemed at any price. hence the sacred obligation of the boon granted by a knight to his suppliant. instances without number occur in romance, in which a knight, by rashly granting an indefinite boon, was obliged to do or suffer something extremely to his prejudice. but it is not in romance alone that we find such singular instances of adherence to an indefinite promise. the history of the times presents authentic transactions equally embarrassing and absurd"--scott, note to sir tristram.] of his nephew, who readily granted it. the king made him swear upon the holy reliques that he would fulfil his commands. then mark directed him to go to ireland, and obtain for him the fair isoude to be queen of cornwall. tristram believed it was certain death for him to return to ireland; and how could he act as ambassador for his uncle in such a cause? yet, bound by his oath, he hesitated not for an instant. he only took the precaution to change his armor. he embarked for ireland; but a tempest drove him to the coast of england, near camelot, where king arthur was holding his court, attended by the knights of the round table, and many others, the most illustrious in the world. tristram kept himself unknown. he took part in many justs; he fought many combats, in which he covered himself with glory. one day he saw among those recently arrived the king of ireland, father of the fair isoude. this prince, accused of treason against his liege sovereign, arthur, came to camelot to free himself from the charge. blaanor, one of the most redoubtable warriors of the round table, was his accuser, and argius, the king, had neither youthful vigor nor strength to encounter him. he must therefore seek a champion to sustain his innocence. but the knights of the round table were not at liberty to fight against one another, unless in a quarrel of their own. argius heard of the great renown of the unknown knight; he also was witness of his exploits. he sought him, and conjured him to adopt his defence, and on his oath declared that he was innocent of the crime of which he was accused. tristram readily consented, and made himself known to the king, who on his part promised to reward his exertions, if successful, with whatever gift he might ask. tristram fought with blaanor, and overthrew him, and held his life in his power. the fallen warrior called on him to use his right of conquest, and strike the fatal blow. "god forbid," said tristram, "that i should take the life of so brave a knight!" he raised him up and restored him to his friends. the judges of the field decided that the king of ireland was acquitted of the charge against him, and they led tristram in triumph to his tent. king argius, full of gratitude, conjured tristram to accompany him to his kingdom. they departed together, and arrived in ireland; and the queen, forgetting her resentment for her brother's death, exhibited to the preserver of her husband's life nothing but gratitude and good-will. how happy a moment for isoude, who knew that her father had promised his deliverer whatever boon he might ask! but the unhappy tristram gazed on her with despair, at the thought of the cruel oath which bound him. his magnanimous soul subdued the force of his love. he revealed the oath which he had taken, and with trembling voice demanded the fair isoude for his uncle. argius consented, and soon all was prepared for the departure of isoude. brengwain, her favorite maid of honor, was to accompany her. on the day of departure the queen took aside this devoted attendant, and told her that she had observed that her daughter and tristram were attached to one another, and that to avert the bad effects of this inclination she had procured from a powerful fairy a potent philter (love-draught), which she directed brengwain to administer to isoude and to king mark on the evening of their marriage. isoude and tristram embarked together. a favorable wind filled the sails, and promised them a fortunate voyage. the lovers gazed upon one another, and could not repress their sighs. love seemed to light up all his fires on their lips, as in their hearts. the day was warm; they suffered from thirst. isoude first complained. tristram descried the bottle containing the love-draught, which brengwain had been so imprudent as to leave in sight. he took it, gave some of it to the charming isoude, and drank the remainder himself. the dog houdain licked the cup. the ship arrived in cornwall, and isoude was married to king mark, the old monarch was delighted with his bride, and his gratitude to tristram was unbounded. he loaded him with honors, and made him chamberlain of his palace, thus giving him access to the queen at all times. in the midst of the festivities of the court which followed the royal marriage, an unknown minstrel one day presented himself, bearing a harp of peculiar construction. he excited the curiosity of king mark by refusing to play upon it till he should grant him a boon. the king having promised to grant his request, the minstrel, who was none other than the saracen knight, sir palamedes, the lover of the fair isoude, sung to the harp a lay, in which he demanded isoude as the promised gift. king mark could not by the laws of knighthood withhold the boon. the lady was mounted on her horse, and led away by her triumphant lover. tristram, it is needless to say, was absent at the time, and did not return until their departure. when he heard what had taken place he seized his rote, and hastened to the shore, where isoude and her new master had already embarked. tristram played upon his rote, and the sound reached the ears of isoude, who became so deeply affected, that sir palamedes was induced to return with her to land, that they might see the unknown musician. tristram watched his opportunity, seized the lady's horse by the bridle, and plunged with her into the forest, tauntingly informing his rival that "what he had got by the harp he had lost by the rote." palamedes pursued, and a combat was about to commence, the result of which must have been fatal to one or other of these gallant knights; but isoude stepped between them, and, addressing palamedes, said, "you tell me that you love me; you will not then deny me the request i am about to make?" "lady," he replied, "i will perform your bidding." "leave, then," said she, "this contest, and repair to king arthur's court, and salute queen guenever from me; tell her that there are in the world but two ladies, herself and i, and two lovers, hers and mine; and come thou not in future in any place where i am." palamedes burst into tears. "ah, lady," said he, "i will obey you; but i beseech you that you will not for ever steel your heart against me." "palamedes," she replied, "may i never taste of joy again if i ever quit my first love." palamedes then went his way. the lovers remained a week in concealment, after which tristram restored isoude to her husband, advising him in future to reward minstrels in some other way. the king showed much gratitude to tristram, but in the bottom of his heart he cherished bitter jealousy of him. one day tristram and isoude were alone together in her private chamber. a base and cowardly knight of the court, named andret, spied them through a keyhole. they sat at a table of chess, but were not attending to the game. andret brought the king, having first raised his suspicions, and placed him so as to watch their motions. the king saw enough to confirm his suspicions, and he burst into the apartment with his sword drawn, and had nearly slain tristram before he was put on his guard. but tristram avoided the blow, drew his sword, and drove before him the cowardly monarch, chasing him through all the apartments of the palace, giving him frequent blows with the flat of his sword, while he cried in vain to his knights to save him. they were not inclined, or did not dare, to interpose in his behalf. a proof of the great popularity of the tale of sir tristram is the fact that the italian poets, boiardo and ariosto, have founded upon it the idea of the two enchanted fountains, which produced the opposite effects of love and hatred. boiardo thus describes the fountain of hatred: "fair was that fountain, sculptured all of gold, with alabaster sculptured, rich and rare; and in its basin clear thou might'st behold the flowery marge reflected fresh and fair. sage merlin framed the font,--so legends bear,-- when on fair isoude doated tristram brave, that the good errant knight, arriving there, might quaff oblivion in the enchanted wave, and leave his luckless love, and 'scape his timeless grave. 'but ne'er the warrior's evil fate allowed his steps that fountain's charmed verge to gain. though restless, roving on adventure proud, he traversed oft the land and oft the main." chapter xiii tristram and isoude (continued) after this affair tristram was banished from the kingdom, and isoude shut up in a tower, which stood on the bank of a river. tristram could not resolve to depart without some further communication with his beloved; so he concealed himself in the forest, till at last he contrived to attract her attention, by means of twigs which he curiously peeled, and sent down the stream under her window. by this means many secret interviews were obtained. tristram dwelt in the forest, sustaining himself by game, which the dog houdain ran down for him; for this faithful animal was unequalled in the chase, and knew so well his master's wish for concealment, that, in the pursuit of his game, he never barked. at length tristram departed, but left houdain with isoude, as a remembrancer of him. sir tristram wandered through various countries, achieving the most perilous enterprises, and covering himself with glory, yet unhappy at the separation from his beloved isoude. at length king mark's territory was invaded by a neighboring chieftain, and he was forced to summon his nephew to his aid. tristram obeyed the call, put himself at the head of his uncle's vassals, and drove the enemy out of the country. mark was full of gratitude, and tristram, restored to favor and to the society of his beloved isoude, seemed at the summit of happiness. but a sad reverse was at hand. tristram had brought with him a friend named pheredin, son of the king of brittany. this young knight saw queen isoude, and could not resist her charms. knowing the love of his friend for the queen, and that that love was returned, pheredin concealed his own, until his health failed, and he feared he was drawing near his end. he then wrote to the beautiful queen that he was dying for love of her. the gentle isoude, in a moment of pity for the friend of tristram, returned him an answer so kind and compassionate that it restored him to life. a few days afterwards tristram found this letter. the most terrible jealousy took possession of his soul; he would have slain pheredin, who with difficulty made his escape. then tristram mounted his horse, and rode to the forest, where for ten days he took no rest nor food. at length he was found by a damsel lying almost dead by the brink of a fountain. she recognized him, and tried in vain to rouse his attention. at last recollecting his love for music she went and got her harp, and played thereon. tristram was roused from his reverie; tears flowed; he breathed more freely; he took the harp from the maiden, and sung this lay, with a voice broken with sobs: "sweet i sang in former days, kind love perfected my lays: now my art alone displays the woe that on my being preys. "charming love, delicious power, worshipped from my earliest hour, thou who life on all dost shower, love! my life thou dost devour. "in death's hour i beg of thee, isoude, dearest enemy, thou who erst couldst kinder be, when i'm gone, forget not me. "on my gravestone passers-by oft will read, as low i lie, 'never wight in love could vie with tristram, yet she let him die.'" tristram, having finished his lay, wrote it off and gave it to the damsel, conjuring her to present it to the queen. meanwhile queen isoude was inconsolable at the absence of tristram. she discovered that it was caused by the fatal letter which she had written to pheredin. innocent, but in despair at the sad effects of her letter, she wrote another to pheredin, charging him never to see her again. the unhappy lover obeyed this cruel decree. he plunged into the forest, and died of grief and love in a hermit's cell. isoude passed her days in lamenting the absence and unknown fate of tristram. one day her jealous husband, having entered her chamber unperceived, overheard her singing the following lay: "my voice to piteous wail is bent, my harp to notes of languishment; ah, love! delightsome days be meant for happier wights, with hearts content. "ah, tristram' far away from me, art thou from restless anguish free? ah! couldst thou so one moment be, from her who so much loveth thee?" the king hearing these words burst forth in a rage; but isoude was too wretched to fear his violence. "you have heard me," she said; "i confess it all. i love tristram, and always shall love him. without doubt he is dead, and died for me. i no longer wish to live. the blow that shall finish my misery will be most welcome." the king was moved at the distress of the fair isoude, and perhaps the idea of tristram's death tended to allay his wrath. he left the queen in charge of her women, commanding them to take especial care lest her despair should lead her to do harm to herself. tristram meanwhile, distracted as he was, rendered a most important service to the shepherds by slaying a gigantic robber named taullas, who was in the habit of plundering their flocks and rifling their cottages. the shepherds, in their gratitude to tristram, bore him in triumph to king mark to have him bestow on him a suitable reward. no wonder mark failed to recognize in the half-clad, wild man, before him his nephew tristram; but grateful for the service the unknown had rendered he ordered him to be well taken care of, and gave him in charge to the queen and her women. under such care tristram rapidly recovered his serenity and his health, so that the romancer tells us he became handsomer than ever. king mark's jealousy revived with tristram's health and good looks, and, in spite of his debt of gratitude so lately increased, he again banished him from the court. sir tristram left cornwall, and proceeded into the land of loegria (england) in quest of adventures. one day he entered a wide forest. the sound of a little bell showed him that some inhabitant was near. he followed the sound, and found a hermit, who informed him that he was in the forest of arnantes, belonging to the fairy viviane, the lady of the lake, who, smitten with love for king arthur, had found means to entice him to this forest, where by enchantments she held him a prisoner, having deprived him of all memory of who and what he was. the hermit informed him that all the knights of the round table were out in search of the king, and that he (tristram) was now in the scene of the most grand and important adventures. this was enough to animate tristram in the search. he had not wandered far before he encountered a knight of arthur's court, who proved to be sir kay the seneschal, who demanded of him whence he came. tristram answering, "from cornwall," sir kay did not let slip the opportunity of a joke at the expense of the cornish knight. tristram chose to leave him in his error, and even confirmed him in it; for meeting some other knights tristram declined to just with them. they spent the night together at an abbey, where tristram submitted patiently to all their jokes. the seneschal gave the word to his companions that they should set out early next day, and intercept the cornish knight on his way, and enjoy the amusement of seeing his fright when they should insist on running a tilt with him. tristram next morning found himself alone; he put on his armor, and set out to continue his quest. he soon saw before him the seneschal and the three knights, who barred the way, and insisted on a just. tristram excused himself a long time; at last he reluctantly took his stand. he encountered them, one after the other, and overthrew them all four, man and horse, and then rode off, bidding them not to forget their friend the knight of cornwall. tristram had not ridden far when he met a damsel, who cried out, "ah, my lord! hasten forward, and prevent a horrid treason!" tristram flew to her assistance, and soon reached a spot where he beheld a knight, whom three others had borne to the ground, and were unlacing his helmet in order to cut off his head. tristram flew to the rescue, and slew with one stroke of his lance one of the assailants. the knight, recovering his feet, sacrificed another to his vengeance, and the third made his escape. the rescued knight then raised the visor of his helmet, and a long white beard fell down upon his breast. the majesty and venerable air of this knight made tristram suspect that it was none other than arthur himself, and the prince confirmed his conjecture. tristram would have knelt before him, but arthur received him in his arms, and inquired his name and country; but tristram declined to disclose them, on the plea that he was now on a quest requiring secrecy. at this moment the damsel who had brought tristram to the rescue darted forward, and, seizing the king's hand, drew from his finger a ring, the gift of the fairy, and by that act dissolved the enchantment. arthur, having recovered his reason and his memory, offered to tristram to attach him to his court, and to confer honors and dignities upon him; but tristram declined all, and only consented to accompany him till he should see him safe in the hands of his knights. soon after, hector de marys rode up, and saluted the king, who on his part introduced him to tristram as one of the bravest of his knights. tristram took leave of the king and his faithful follower, and continued his quest. we cannot follow tristram through all the adventures which filled this epoch of his history. suffice it to say, he fulfilled on all occasions the duty of a true knight, rescuing the oppressed, redressing wrongs, abolishing evil customs, and suppressing injustice, thus by constant action endeavoring to lighten the pains of absence from her he loved. in the meantime isoude, separated from her dear tristram, passed her days in languor and regret. at length she could no longer resist the desire to hear some news of her lover. she wrote a letter, and sent it by one of her damsels, niece of her faithful brengwain. one day tristram, weary with his exertions, had dismounted and laid himself down by the side of a fountain and fallen asleep. the damsel of queen isoude arrived at the same fountain, and recognized passebreul, the horse of tristram, and presently perceived his master asleep. he was thin and pale, showing evident marks of the pain he suffered in separation from his beloved. she awakened him, and gave him the letter which she bore, and tristram enjoyed the pleasure, so sweet to a lover, of hearing from and talking about the object of his affections. he prayed the damsel to postpone her return till after the magnificent tournament which arthur had proclaimed should have taken place, and conducted her to the castle of persides, a brave and loyal knight, who received her with great consideration. tristram conducted the damsel of queen isoude to the tournament, and had her placed in the balcony among the ladies of the queen. "he glanced and saw the stately galleries, dame, damsel, each through worship of their queen white-robed in honor of the stainless child, and some with scatter'd jewels, like a bank of maiden snow mingled with sparks of fire. he looked but once, and veiled his eyes again." --the last tournament. he then joined the tourney. nothing could exceed his strength and valor. launcelot admired him, and by a secret presentiment declined to dispute the honor of the day with a knight so gallant and so skilful. arthur descended from the balcony to greet the conqueror; but the modest and devoted tristram, content with having borne off the prize in the sight of the messenger of isoude, made his escape with her, and disappeared. the next day the tourney recommenced. tristram assumed different armor, that he might not be known; but he was soon detected by the terrible blows that he gave, arthur and guenever had no doubt that it was the same knight who had borne off the prize of the day before. arthur's gallant spirit was roused. after launcelot of the lake and sir gawain he was accounted the best knight of the round table. he went privately and armed himself, and came into the tourney in undistinguished armor. he ran a just with tristram, whom he shook in his seat; but tristram, who did not know him, threw him out of the saddle. arthur recovered himself, and content with having made proof of the stranger knight bade launcelot finish the adventure, and vindicate the honor of the round table. sir launcelot, at the bidding of the monarch, assailed tristram, whose lance was already broken in former encounters. but the law of this sort of combat was that the knight after having broken his lance must fight with his sword, and must not refuse to meet with his shield the lance of his antagonist. tristram met launcelot's charge upon his shield, which that terrible lance could not fail to pierce. it inflicted a wound upon tristram's side, and, breaking, left the iron in the wound. but tristram also with his sword smote so vigorously on launcelot's casque that he cleft it, and wounded his head. the wound was not deep, but the blood flowed into his eyes, and blinded him for a moment, and tristram, who thought himself mortally wounded, retired from the field. launcelot declared to the king that he had never received such a blow in his life before. tristram hastened to gouvernail, his squire, who drew forth the iron, bound up the wound, and gave him immediate ease. tristram after the tournament kept retired in his tent, but arthur, with the consent of all the knights of the round table, decreed him the honors of the second day. but it was no longer a secret that the victor of the two days was the same individual, and gouvernail, being questioned, confirmed the suspicions of launcelot and arthur that it was no other than sir tristram of leonais, the nephew of the king of cornwall. king arthur, who desired to reward his distinguished valor, and knew that his uncle mark had ungratefully banished him, would have eagerly availed himself of the opportunity to attach tristram to his court,--all the knights of the round table declaring with acclamation that it would be impossible to find a more worthy companion. but tristram had already departed in search of adventures, and the damsel of queen isoude returned to her mistress. chapter xiv sir tristram's battle with sir launcelot sir tristram rode through a forest and saw ten men fighting, and one man did battle against nine. so he rode to the knights and cried to them, bidding them cease their battle, for they did themselves great shame, so many knights to fight against one. then answered the master of the knights (his name was sir breuse sans pitie, who was at that time the most villanous knight living): "sir knight, what have ye to do to meddle with us? if ye be wise depart on your way as you came, for this knight shall not escape us." "that were pity," said sir tristram, "that so good a knight should be slain so cowardly; therefore i warn you i will succor him with all my puissance." then sir tristram alighted off his horse, because they were on foot, that they should not slay his horse. and he smote on the right hand and on the left so vigorously that well-nigh at every stroke he struck down a knight. at last they fled, with breuse sans pitie, into the tower, and shut sir tristram without the gate. then sir tristram returned back to the rescued knight, and found him sitting under a tree, sore wounded. "fair knight," said he, "how is it with you?" "sir knight," said sir palamedes, for he it was, "i thank you of your great goodness, for ye have rescued me from death." "what is your name?" said sir tristram. he said, "my name is sir palamedes." "say ye so?" said sir tristram; "now know that thou art the man in the world that i most hate; therefore make thee ready, for i will do battle with thee." "what is your name?" said sir palamedes. "my name is sir tristram, your mortal enemy." "it may be so," said sir palamedes; "but you have done overmuch for me this day, that i should fight with you. moreover, it will be no honor for you to have to do with me, for you are fresh and i am wounded. therefore, if you will needs have to do with me, assign me a day, and i shall meet you without fail." "you say well, "said sir tristram; "now i assign you to meet me in the meadow by the river of camelot, where merlin set the monument." so they were agreed. then they departed and took their ways diverse. sir tristram passed through a great forest into a plain, till he came to a priory, and there he reposed him with a good man six days. then departed sir tristram, and rode straight into camelot to the monument of merlin, and there he looked about him for sir palamedes. and he perceived a seemly knight, who came riding against him all in white, with a covered shield. when he came nigh sir tristram said aloud, "welcome, sir knight, and well and truly have you kept your promise." then they made ready their shields and spears, and came together with all the might of their horses, so fiercely, that both the horses and the knights fell to the earth. and as soon as they might they quitted their horses, and struck together with bright swords as men of might, and each wounded the other wonderfully sore, so that the blood ran out upon the grass. thus they fought for the space of four hours and never one would speak to the other one word. then at last spake the white knight, and said, "sir, thou fightest wonderful well, as ever i saw knight; therefore, if it please you, tell me your name." "why dost thou ask my name?" said sir tristram; "art thou not sir palamedes?" "no, fair knight," said he, "i am sir launcelot of the lake." "alas!" said sir tristram, "what have i done? for you are the man of the world that i love best." "fair knight," said sir launcelot, "tell me your name." "truly," said he, "my name is sir tristram de lionesse." "alas! alas!" said sir launcelot, "what adventure has befallen me!" and therewith sir launcelot kneeled down and yielded him up his sword; and sir tristram kneeled down and yielded him up his sword; and so either gave other the degree. and then they both went to the stone, and sat them down upon it and took off their helms and each kissed the other a hundred times. and then anon they rode toward camelot, and on the way they met with sir gawain and sir gaheris, that had made promise to arthur never to come again to the court till they had brought sir tristram with them. "return again," said sir launcelot, "for your quest is done; for i have met with sir tristram. lo, here he is in his own person." then was sir gawain glad, and said to sir tristram, "ye are welcome." with this came king arthur, and when he wist there was sir tristram, he ran unto him, and took him by the hand, and said, "sir tristram, ye are as welcome as any knight that ever came to this court." then sir tristram told the king how he came thither for to have had to do with sir palamedes, and how he had rescued him from sir breuse sans pitie and the nine knights. then king arthur took sir tristram by the hand, and went to the table round, and queen guenever came, and many ladies with her, and all the ladies said with one voice, "welcome, sir tristram." "welcome," said the knights. "welcome," said arthur, "for one of the best of knights, and the gentlest of the world, and the man of most worship; for of all manner of hunting thou bearest the prize, and of all measures of blowing thou art the beginning, and of all the terms of hunting and hawking ye are the inventor, and of all instruments of music ye are the best skilled; therefore, gentle knight," said arthur, "ye are welcome to this court." and then king arthur made sir tristram knight of the table round with great nobley and feasting as can be thought. sir tristram as a sportsman tristram is often alluded to by the romancers as the great authority and model in all matters relating to the chase. in the "faery queene," tristram, in answer to the inquiries of sir calidore, informs him of his name and parentage, and concludes: "all which my days i have not lewdly spent, nor spilt the blossom of my tender years in idlesse; but, as was convenient, have trained been with many noble feres in gentle thewes, and such like seemly leers; 'mongst which my most delight hath always been to hunt the salvage chace, amongst my peers, of all that rangeth in the forest green, of which none is to me unknown that yet was seen. "ne is there hawk which mantleth on her perch, whether high towering or accosting low, but i the measure of her flight do search, and all her prey, and all her diet know. such be our joys, which in these forests grow." [footnote: feres, companions; thewes, labors; leers, learning.] chapter xv the round table the famous enchanter, merlin, had exerted all his skill in fabricating the round table. of the seats which surrounded it he had constructed thirteen, in memory of the thirteen apostles. twelve of these seats only could be occupied, and they only by knights of the highest fame; the thirteenth represented the seat of the traitor judas. it remained always empty. it was called the perilous seat, ever since a rash and haughty saracen knight had dared to place himself in it, when the earth opened and swallowed him up. "in our great hall there stood a vacant chair, fashion'd by merlin ere he past away, and carven with strange figures; and in and out the figures, like a serpent, ran a scroll of letters in a tongue no man could read and merlin call'd it 'the siege perilous,' perilous for good and ill; 'for there,' he said, 'no man could sit but he should lose himself.'" --the holy grail. a magic power wrote upon each seat the name of the knight who was entitled to sit in it. no one could succeed to a vacant seat unless he surpassed in valor and glorious deeds the knight who had occupied it before him; without this qualification he would be violently repelled by a hidden force. thus proof was made of all those who presented themselves to replace any companions of the order who had fallen. one of the principal seats, that of moraunt of ireland, had been vacant ten years, and his name still remained over it ever since the time when that distinguished champion fell beneath the sword of sir tristram. arthur now took tristram by the hand and led him to that seat. immediately the most melodious sounds were heard, and exquisite perfumes filled the place; the name of moraunt disappeared, and that of tristram blazed forth in light. the rare modesty of tristram had now to be subjected to a severe task; for the clerks charged with the duty of preserving the annals of the round table attended, and he was required by the law of his order to declare what feats of arms he had accomplished to entitle him to take that seat. this ceremony being ended, tristram received the congratulations of all his companions. sir launcelot and guenever took the occasion to speak to him of the fair isoude, and to express their wish that some happy chance might bring her to the kingdom of loegria. while tristram was thus honored and caressed at the court of king arthur, the most gloomy and malignant jealousy harassed the soul of mark. he could not look upon isoude without remembering that she loved tristram, and the good fortune of his nephew goaded him to thoughts of vengeance. he at last resolved to go disguised into the kingdom of loegria, attack tristram by stealth, and put him to death. he took with him two knights, brought up in his court, who he thought were devoted to him; and, not willing to leave isoude behind, named two of her maidens to attend her, together with her faithful brengwain, and made them accompany him. having arrived in the neighborhood of camelot, mark imparted his plan to his two knights, but they rejected it with horror; nay, more, they declared that they would no longer remain in his service; and left him, giving him reason to suppose that they should repair to the court to accuse him before arthur. it was necessary for mark to meet and rebut their accusation; so, leaving isoude in an abbey, he pursued his way alone to camelot. mark had not ridden far when he encountered a party of knights of arthur's court, and would have avoided them, for he knew their habit of challenging to a just every stranger knight whom they met. but it was too late. they had seen his armor, and recognized him as a cornish knight, and at once resolved to have some sport with him. it happened they had with them daguenet, king arthur's fool, who, though deformed and weak of body, was not wanting in courage. the knights as mark approached laid their plan that daguenet should personate sir launcelot of the lake, and challenge the cornish knight. they equipped him in armor belonging to one of their number who was ill, and sent him forward to the cross-road to defy the strange knight. mark, who saw that his antagonist was by no means formidable in appearance, was not disinclined to the combat; but when the dwarf rode towards him, calling out that he was sir launcelot of the lake, his fears prevailed, he put spurs to his horse, and rode away at full speed, pursued by the shouts and laughter of the party. meanwhile isoude, remaining at the abbey with her faithful brengwain, found her only amusement in walking occasionally in a forest adjoining the abbey. there, on the brink of a fountain girdled with trees, she thought of her love, and sometimes joined her voice and her harp in lays reviving the memory of its pains or pleasures. one day the caitiff knight, breuse the pitiless, heard her voice, concealed himself, and drew near. she sang: "sweet silence, shadowy bower, and verdant lair, ye court my troubled spirit to repose, whilst i, such dear remembrance rises there, awaken every echo with my woes "within these woods, by nature's hand arrayed, a fountain springs, and feeds a thousand flowers; ah! how my groans do all its murmurs aid! how my sad eyes do swell it with their showers! "what doth my knight the while? to him is given a double meed; in love and arms' emprise, him the round table elevates to heaven! tristram! ah me! he hears not isoude's cries." breuse the pitiless, who like most other caitiffs had felt the weight of tristram's arm, and hated him accordingly, at hearing his name breathed forth by the beautiful songstress, impelled by a double impulse, rushed forth from his concealment and laid hands on his victim. isoude fainted, and brengwain filled the air with her shrieks. breuse carried isoude to the place where he had left his horse; but the animal had got away from his bridle, and was at some distance. he was obliged to lay down his fair burden, and go in pursuit of his horse. just then a knight came up, drawn by the cries of brengwain, and demanded the cause of her distress. she could not speak, but pointed to her mistress lying insensible on the ground. breuse had by this time returned, and the cries of brengwain, renewed at seeing him, sufficiently showed the stranger the cause of the distress. tristram spurred his horse towards breuse, who, not unprepared, ran to the encounter. breuse was unhorsed, and lay motionless, pretending to be dead; but when the stranger knight left him to attend to the distressed damsels, he mounted his horse, and made his escape. the knight now approached isoude, gently raised her head, drew aside the golden hair which covered her countenance, gazed thereon for an instant, uttered a cry, and fell back insensible. brengwain came; her cares soon restored her mistress to life, and they then turned their attention to the fallen warrior. they raised his visor, and discovered the countenance of sir tristram. isoude threw herself on the body of her lover, and bedewed his face with her tears. their warmth revived the knight, and tristram on awaking found himself in the arms of his dear isoude. it was the law of the round table that each knight after his admission should pass the next ten days in quest of adventures, during which time his companions might meet him in disguised armor and try their strength with him. tristram had now been out seven days, and in that time had encountered many of the best knights of the round table, and acquitted himself with honor. during the remaining three days, isoude remained at the abbey, under his protection, and then set out with her maidens, escorted by sir tristram, to rejoin king mark at the court of camelot. this happy journey was one of the brightest epochs in the lives of tristram and isoude. he celebrated it by a lay upon the harp in a peculiar measure, to which the french give the name of triolet. "with fair isoude, and with love, ah! how sweet the life i lead! how blest for ever thus to rove, with fair isoude, and with love! as she wills, i live and move, and cloudless days to days succeed: with fair isoude, and with love, ah! how sweet the life i lead! "journeying on from break of day, feel you not fatigued, my fair? yon green turf invites to play; journeying on from day to day, ah! let us to that shade away, were it but to slumber there! journeying on from break of day, feel you not fatigued, my fair?" they arrived at camelot, where sir launcelot received them most cordially. isoude was introduced to king arthur and queen guenever, who welcomed her as a sister. as king mark was held in arrest under the accusation of the two cornish knights, queen isoude could not rejoin her husband, and sir launcelot placed his castle of la joyeuse garde at the disposal of his friends, who there took up their abode. king mark, who found himself obliged to confess the truth of the charge against him, or to clear himself by combat with his accusers, preferred the former, and king arthur, as his crime had not been perpetrated, remitted the penalty, only enjoining upon him, under pain of his signal displeasure, to lay aside all thoughts of vengeance against his nephew. in the presence of the king and his court all parties were formally reconciled; mark and his queen departed for their home, and tristram remained at arthur's court. chapter xvi sir palamedes while sir tristram and the fair isoude abode yet at la joyeuse garde, sir tristram rode forth one day, without armor, having no weapon but his spear and his sword. and as he rode he came to a place where he saw two knights in battle, and one of them had gotten the better and the other lay overthrown. the knight who had the better was sir palamedes. when sir palamedes knew sir tristram, he cried out, "sir tristram, now we be met, and ere we depart we will redress our old wrongs." "as for that," said sir tristram, "there never yet was christian man that might make his boast that i ever fled from him, and thou that art a saracen shalt never say that of me." and therewith sir tristram made his horse to run, and with all his might came straight upon sir palamedes, and broke his spear upon him. then he drew his sword and struck at sir palamedes six great strokes, upon his helm. sir palamedes saw that sir tristram had not his armor on, and he marvelled at his rashness and his great folly; and said to himself, "if i meet and slay him, i am shamed wheresoever i go." then sir tristram cried out and said, "thou coward knight, why wilt thou not do battle with me? for have thou no doubt i shall endure all thy malice." "ah, sir tristram!" said sir palamedes, "thou knowest i may not fight with thee for shame; for thou art here naked, and i am armed; now i require that thou answer me a question that i shall ask you." "tell me what it is," said sir tristram. "i put the case," said palamedes, "that you were well armed, and i naked as ye be; what would you do to me now, by your true knighthood?" "ah!" said sir tristram, "now i understand thee well, sir palamedes; and, as god bless me, what i shall say shall not be said for fear that i have of thee. but if it were so, thou shouldest depart from me, for i would not have to do with thee." "no more will i with thee," said sir palamedes, "and therefore ride forth on thy way." "as for that, i may choose," said sir tristram, "either to ride or to abide. but, sir palamedes, i marvel at one thing,--that thou art so good a knight, yet that thou wilt not be christened." "as for that," said sir palamedes, "i may not yet be christened, for a vow which i made many years ago; yet in my heart i believe in our saviour and his mild mother, mary; but i have yet one battle to do, and when that is done i will be christened, with a good will." "by my head," said sir tristram, "as for that one battle, thou shalt seek it no longer; for yonder is a knight, whom you have smitten down. now help me to be clothed in his armor, and i will soon fulfil thy vow." "as ye will," said sir palamedes, "so shall it be." so they rode both unto that knight that sat on a bank; and sir tristram saluted him, and he full weary saluted him again. "sir," said sir tristram, "i pray you to lend me your whole armor; for i am unarmed, and i must do battle with this knight." "sir," said the hurt knight, "you shall have it, with a right good will," then sir tristram unarmed sir galleron, for that was the name of the hurt knight, and he as well as he could helped to arm sir tristram. then sir tristram mounted upon his own horse, and in his hand he took sir galleron's spear. thereupon sir palamedes was ready, and so they came hurling together, and each smote the other in the midst of their shields. sir palamedes' spear broke, and sir tristram smote down the horse. then sir palamedes leapt from his horse, and drew out his sword. that saw sir tristram, and therewith he alighted and tied his horse to a tree. then they came together as two wild beasts, lashing the one on the other, and so fought more than two hours; and often sir tristram smote such strokes at sir palamedes that he made him to kneel, and sir palamedes broke away sir tristram's shield, and wounded him. then sir tristram was wroth out of measure, and he rushed to sir palamedes and wounded him passing sore through the shoulder, and by fortune smote sir palamedes' sword out of his hand and if sir palamedes had stooped for his sword sir tristram had slain him. then sir palamedes stood and beheld his sword with a full sorrowful heart. "now," said sir tristram, "i have thee at a vantage, as thou hadst me to-day; but it shall never be said, in court, or among good knights, that sir tristram did slay any knight that was weaponless; therefore take thou thy sword, and let us fight this battle to the end." then spoke sir palamedes to sir tristram: "i have no wish to fight this battle any more. the offence that i have done unto you is not so great but that, if it please you, we may be friends. all that i have offended is for the love of the queen, la belle isoude, and i dare maintain that she is peerless among ladies; and for that offence ye have given me many grievous and sad strokes, and some i have given you again. wherefore i require you, my lord sir tristram, forgive me all that i have offended you, and this day have me unto the next church; and first i will be clean confessed, and after that see you that i be truly baptized, and then we will ride together unto the court of my lord, king arthur, so that we may be there at the feast of pentecost." "now take your horse," said sir tristram, "and as you have said, so shall it be done." so they took their horses, and sir galleron rode with them. when they came to the church of carlisle, the bishop commanded to fill a great vessel with water; and when he had hallowed it, he then confessed sir palamedes clean, and christened him, and sir tristram and sir galleron were his godfathers. then soon after they departed, and rode towards camelot, where the noble king arthur and queen guenever were keeping a court royal. and the king and all the court were glad that sir palamedes was christened. then sir tristram returned again to la joyeuse garde, and sir palamedes went his way. not long after these events sir gawain returned from brittany, and related to king arthur the adventure which befell him in the forest of breciliande, how merlin had there spoken to him, and enjoined him to charge the king to go without delay upon the quest of the holy greal. while king arthur deliberated tristram determined to enter upon the quest, and the more readily, as it was well known to him that this holy adventure would, if achieved, procure him the pardon of all his sins. he immediately departed for the kingdom of brittany, hoping there to obtain from merlin counsel as to the proper course to pursue to insure success. chapter xvii sir tristram on arriving in brittany tristram found king hoel engaged in a war with a rebellious vassal, and hard pressed by his enemy. his best knights had fallen in a late battle, and he knew not where to turn for assistance. tristram volunteered his aid. it was accepted; and the army of hoel, led by tristram, and inspired by his example, gained a complete victory. the king, penetrated by the most lively sentiments of gratitude, and having informed himself of tristram's birth, offered him his daughter in marriage. the princess was beautiful and accomplished, and bore the same name with the queen of cornwall; but this one is designated by the romancers as isoude of the white hands, to distinguish her from isoude the fair. how can we describe the conflict that agitated the heart of tristram? he adored the first isoude, but his love for her was hopeless, and not unaccompanied by remorse. moreover, the sacred quest on which he had now entered demanded of him perfect purity of life. it seemed as if a happy destiny had provided for him in the charming princess isoude of the white hands the best security for all his good resolutions. this last reflection determined him. they were married, and passed some months in tranquil happiness at the court of king hoel. the pleasure which tristram felt in his wife's society increased day by day. an inward grace seemed to stir within him from the moment when he took the oath to go on the quest of the holy greal; it seemed even to triumph over the power of the magic love-potion. the war, which had been quelled for a time, now burst out anew. tristram as usual was foremost in every danger. the enemy was worsted in successive conflicts, and at last shut himself up in his principal city. tristram led on the attack of the city. as he mounted a ladder to scale the walls he was struck on the head by a fragment of rock, which the besieged threw down upon him. it bore him to the ground, where he lay insensible. as soon as he recovered consciousness he demanded to be carried to his wife. the princess, skilled in the art of surgery, would not suffer any one but herself to touch her beloved husband. her fair hands bound up his wounds; tristram kissed them with gratitude, which began to grow into love. at first the devoted cares of isoude seemed to meet with great success; but after a while these flattering appearances vanished, and, in spite of all her care, the malady grew more serious day by day. in this perplexity, an old squire of tristram's reminded his master that the princess of ireland, afterwards queen of cornwall, had once cured him under circumstances quite as discouraging. he called isoude of the white hands to him, told her of his former cure, added that he believed that the queen isoude could heal him, and that he felt sure that she would come to his relief, if sent for. isoude of the white hands consented that gesnes, a trusty man and skilful navigator, should be sent to cornwall. tristram called him, and, giving him a ring, "take this," he said, "to the queen of cornwall. tell her that tristram, near to death, demands her aid. if you succeed in bringing her with you, place white sails to your vessel on your return, that we may know of your success when the vessel first heaves in sight. but if queen isoude refuses, put on black sails; they will be the presage of my impending death." gesnes performed his mission successfully. king mark happened to be absent from his capital, and the queen readily consented to return with the bark to brittany. gesnes clothed his vessel in the whitest of sails, and sped his way back to brittany. meantime the wound of tristram grew more desperate day by day. his strength, quite prostrated, no longer permitted him to be carried to the seaside daily, as had been his custom from the first moment when it was possible for the bark to be on the way homeward. he called a young damsel, and gave her in charge to keep watch in the direction of cornwall, and to come and tell him the color of the sails of the first vessel she should see approaching. when isoude of the white hands consented that the queen of cornwall should be sent for, she had not known all the reasons which she had for fearing the influence which renewed intercourse with that princess might have on her own happiness. she had now learned more, and felt the danger more keenly. she thought, if she could only keep the knowledge of the queen's arrival from her husband, she might employ in his service any resources which her skill could supply, and still avert the dangers which she apprehended. when the vessel was seen approaching, with its white sails sparkling in the sun, the damsel, by command of her mistress, carried word to tristram that the sails were black. tristram, penetrated with inexpressible grief, breathed a profound sigh, turned away his face, and said, "alas, my beloved! we shall never see one another again!" then he commended himself to god, and breathed his last. the death of tristram was the first intelligence which the queen of cornwall heard on landing. she was conducted almost senseless into the chamber of tristram, and expired holding him in her arms. tristram, before his death, had requested that his body should be sent to cornwall, and that his sword, with a letter he had written, should be delivered to king mark. the remains of tristram and isoude were embarked in a vessel, along with the sword, which was presented to the king of cornwall. he was melted with tenderness when he saw the weapon which slew moraunt of ireland,-- which had so often saved his life, and redeemed the honor of his kingdom. in the letter tristram begged pardon of his uncle, and related the story of the amorous draught. mark ordered the lovers to be buried in his own chapel. from the tomb of tristram there sprung a vine, which went along the walls, and descended into the grave of the queen. it was cut down three times, but each time sprung up again more vigorous than before, and this wonderful plant has ever since shaded the tombs of tristram and isoude. spenser introduces sir tristram in his "faery queene." in book vi., canto ii., sir calidore encounters in the forest a young hunter, whom he thus describes: "him steadfastly he marked, and saw to be a goodly youth of amiable grace, yet but a slender slip, that scarce did see yet seventeen yeares; but tall and faire of face, that sure he deemed him borne of noble race. all in a woodman's jacket he was clad of lincoln greene, belayed with silver lace; and on his head an hood with aglets sprad, and by his side his hunter's horne he hanging had. [footnote: aglets, points or tags] "buskins he wore of costliest cordawayne, pinckt upon gold, and paled part per part, as then the guize was for each gentle swayne. in his right hand he held a trembling dart, whose fellow he before had sent apart; and in his left he held a sharp bore-speare, with which he wont to launch the salvage heart of many a lyon, and of many a beare, that first unto his hand in chase did happen neare." [footnote: pinckt upon gold, etc., adorned with golden points, or eyelets, and regularly intersected with stripes. paled (in heraldry), striped] chapter xviii perceval the father and two elder brothers of perceval had fallen in battle or tournaments, and hence, as the last hope of his family, his mother retired with him into a solitary region, where he was brought up in total ignorance of arms and chivalry. he was allowed no weapon but "a lyttel scots spere," which was the only thing of all "her lordes faire gere" that his mother carried to the wood with her. in the use of this he became so skilful, that he could kill with it not only the animals of the chase for the table, but even birds on the wing. at length, however, perceval was roused to a desire of military renown by seeing in the forest five knights who were in complete armor. he said to his mother, "mother, what are those yonder?" "they are angels, my son," said she. "by my faith, i will go and become an angel with them." and perceval went to the road and met them. "tell me, good lad," said one of them, "sawest thou a knight pass this way either today or yesterday?" "i know not," said he, "what a knight is." "such an one as i am," said the knight. "if thou wilt tell me what i ask thee, i will tell thee what thou askest me." "gladly will i do so," said sir owain, for that was the knight's name. "what is this?" demanded perceval, touching the saddle. "it is a saddle," said owain. then he asked about all the accoutrements which he saw upon the men and the horses, and about the arms, and what they were for, and how they were used. and sir owain showed him all those things fully. and perceval in return gave him such information as he had then perceval returned to his mother, and said to her, "mother, those were not angels, but honorable knights." then his mother swooned away. and perceval went to the place where they kept the horses that carried firewood and provisions for the castle, and he took a bony, piebald horse, which seemed to him the strongest of them. and he pressed a pack into the form of a saddle, and with twisted twigs he imitated the trappings which he had seen upon the horses. when he came again to his mother, the countess had recovered from her swoon. "my son," said she, "desirest thou to ride forth?" "yes, with thy leave," said he. "go forward, then," she said, "to the court of arthur, where there are the best and the noblest and the most bountiful of men, and tell him thou art perceval, the son of pelenore, and ask of him to bestow knighthood on thee. and whenever thou seest a church, repeat there thy pater- noster; and if thou see meat and drink, and hast need of them, thou mayest take them. if thou hear an outcry of one in distress, proceed toward it, especially if it be the cry of a woman, and render her what service thou canst. if thou see a fair jewel, win it, for thus shalt thou acquire fame; yet freely give it to another, for thus thou shalt obtain praise. if thou see a fair woman, pay court to her, for thus thou wilt obtain love." after this discourse perceval mounted the horse and taking a number of sharp-pointed sticks in his hand he rode forth. and he rode far in the woody wilderness without food or drink. at last he came to an opening in the wood where he saw a tent, and as he thought it might be a church he said his pater-noster to it. and he went towards it; and the door of the tent was open. and perceval dismounted and entered the tent. in the tent he found a maiden sitting, with a golden frontlet on her forehead and a gold ring on her hand. and perceval said, "maiden, i salute you, for my mother told me whenever i met a lady i must respectfully salute her." perceiving in one corner of the tent some food, two flasks full of wine, and some boar's flesh roasted, he said, "my mother told me, whenever i saw meat and drink to take it." and he ate greedily, for he was very hungry. the maiden said, "sir, thou hadst best go quickly from here, for fear that my friends should come, and evil should befall you." but perceval said, "my mother told me wheresoever i saw a fair jewel to take it," and he took the gold ring from her finger, and put it on his own; and he gave the maiden his own ring in exchange for hers; then he mounted his horse and rode away. perceval journeyed on till he arrived at arthur's court. and it so happened that just at that time an uncourteous knight had offered queen guenever a gross insult. for when her page was serving the queen with a golden goblet, this knight struck the arm of the page and dashed the wine in the queen's face and over her stomacher. then he said, "if any have boldness to avenge this insult to guenever, let him follow me to the meadow." so the knight took his horse and rode to the meadow, carrying away the golden goblet. and all the household hung down their heads and no one offered to follow the knight to take vengeance upon him. for it seemed to them that no one would have ventured on so daring an outrage unless he possessed such powers, through magic or charms, that none could be able to punish him. just then, behold, perceval entered the hall upon the bony, piebald horse, with his uncouth trappings. in the centre of the hall stood kay the seneschal. "tell me, tall man," said perceval, "is that arthur yonder?" "what wouldst thou with arthur?" asked kay. "my mother told me to go to arthur and receive knighthood from him." "by my faith," said he, "thou art all too meanly equipped with horse and with arms." then all the household began to jeer and laugh at him. but there was a certain damsel who had been a whole year at arthur's court, and had never been known to smile. and the king's fool [footnote: a fool was a common appendage of the courts of those days when this romance was written. a fool was the ornament held in next estimation to a dwarf. he wore a white dress with a yellow bonnet, and carried a bell or bawble in his hand. though called a fool, his words were often weighed and remembered as if there were a sort of oracular meaning in them.] had said that this damsel would not smile till she had seen him who would be the flower of chivalry. now this damsel came up to perceval and told him, smiling, that if he lived he would be one of the bravest and best of knights. "truly," said kay, "thou art ill taught to remain a year at arthur's court, with choice of society, and smile on no one, and now before the face of arthur and all his knights to call such a man as this the flower of knighthood;" and he gave her a box on the ear, that she fell senseless to the ground. then said kay to perceval, "go after the knight who went hence to the meadow, overthrow him and recover the golden goblet, and possess thyself of his horse and arms, and thou shalt have knighthood." "i will do so, tall man," said perceval. so he turned his horse's head toward the meadow. and when he came there, the knight was riding up and down, proud of his strength and valor and noble mien. "tell me," said the knight, "didst thou see any one coming after me from the court?" "the tall man that was there," said perceval, "told me to come and overthrow thee, and to take from thee the goblet and thy horse and armor for myself." "silence!" said the knight; "go back to the court, and tell arthur either to come himself, or to send some other to fight with me; and unless he do so quickly, i will not wait for him." "by my faith," said perceval, "choose thou whether it shall be willingly or unwillingly, for i will have the horse and the arms and the goblet." upon this the knight ran at him furiously, and struck him a violent blow with the shaft of his spear, between the neck and the shoulder. "ha, ha, lad!" said perceval, "my mother's servants were not used to play with me in this wise; so thus will i play with thee." and he threw at him one of his sharp-pointed sticks, and it struck him in the eye, and came out at the back of his head, so that he fell down lifeless. "verily," said sir owain, the son of urien, to kay the seneschal, "thou wast ill-advised to send that madman after the knight, for he must either be overthrown or flee, and either way it will be a disgrace to arthur and his warriors; therefore will i go to see what has befallen him." so sir owain went to the meadow, and he found perceval trying in vain to get the dead knight's armor off, in order to clothe himself with it. sir owain unfastened the armor, and helped perceval to put it on, and taught him how to put his foot in the stirrup, and use the spur; for perceval had never used stirrup nor spur, but rode without saddle, and urged on his horse with a stick. then owain would have had him return to the court to receive the praise that was his due; but perceval said, "i will not come to the court till i have encountered the tall man that is there, to revenge the injury he did to the maiden. but take thou the goblet to queen guenever, and tell king arthur that, wherever i am, i will be his vassal, and will do him what profit and service i can." and sir owain went back to the court, and related all these things to arthur and guenever, and to all the household. and perceval rode forward. and he came to a lake on the side of which was a fair castle, and on the border of the lake he saw a hoary-headed man sitting upon a velvet cushion, and his attendants were fishing in the lake. when the hoary-headed man beheld perceval approaching, he arose and went into the castle. perceval rode to the castle, and the door was open, and he entered the hall. and the hoary-headed man received perceval courteously, and asked him to sit by him on the cushion. when it was time the tables were set, and they went to meat. and when they had finished their meat the hoary-headed man asked perceval if he knew how to fight with the sword "i know not," said perceval, "but were i to be taught, doubtless i should." and the hoary-headed man said to him, "i am thy uncle, thy mother's brother; i am called king pecheur.[footnote: the word means both fisher and sinner.] thou shalt remain with me a space, in order to learn the manners and customs of different countries, and courtesy and noble bearing. and this do thou remember, if thou seest aught to cause thy wonder, ask not the meaning of it; if no one has the courtesy to inform thee, the reproach will not fall upon thee, but upon me that am thy teacher." while perceval and his uncle discoursed together, perceval beheld two youths enter the hall bearing a golden cup and a spear of mighty size, with blood dropping from its point to the ground. and when all the company saw this they began to weep and lament. but for all that, the man did not break off his discourse with perceval. and as he did not tell him the meaning of what he saw, he forebore to ask him concerning it. now the cup that perceval saw was the sangreal, and the spear the sacred spear; and afterwards king pecheur removed with those sacred relics into a far country. one evening perceval entered a valley, and came to a hermit's cell; and the hermit welcomed him gladly, and there he spent the night. and in the morning he arose, and when he went forth, behold! a shower of snow had fallen in the night, and a hawk had killed a wild-fowl in front of the cell. and the noise of the horse had scared the hawk away, and a raven alighted on the bird. and perceval stood and compared the blackness of the raven and the whiteness of the snow and the redness of the blood to the hair of the lady that best he loved, which was blacker than jet, and to her skin, which was whiter than the snow, and to the two red spots upon her cheeks, which were redder than the blood upon the snow. now arthur and his household were in search of perceval, and by chance they came that way. "know ye," said arthur, "who is the knight with the long spear that stands by the brook up yonder?" "lord," said one of them, "i will go and learn who he is." so the youth came to the place where perceval was, and asked him what he did thus, and who he was. but perceval was so intent upon his thought that he gave him no answer. then the youth thrust at perceval with his lance; and perceval turned upon him, and struck him to the ground. and when the youth returned to the king, and told how rudely he had been treated, sir kay said, "i will go myself." and when he greeted perceval, and got no answer, he spoke to him rudely and angrily. and perceval thrust at him with his lance, and cast him down so that he broke his arm and his shoulder-blade. and while he lay thus stunned his horse returned back at a wild and prancing pace. then said sir gawain, surnamed the golden-tongued, because he was the most courteous knight in arthur's court: "it is not fitting that any should disturb an honorable knight from his thought unadvisedly; for either he is pondering some damage that he has sustained, or he is thinking of the lady whom best he loves. if it seem well to thee, lord, i will go and see if this knight has changed from his thought, and if he has, i will ask him courteously to come and visit thee." and perceval was resting on the shaft of his spear, pondering the same thought, and sir gawain came to him, and said: "if i thought it would be as agreeable to thee as it would be to me, i would converse with thee. i have also a message from arthur unto thee, to pray thee to come and visit him. and two men have been before on this errand." "that is true," said perceval; "and uncourteously they came. they attacked me, and i was annoyed thereat" then he told him the thought that occupied his mind, and gawain said, "this was not an ungentle thought, and i should marvel if it were pleasant for thee to be drawn from it." then said perceval, "tell me, is sir kay in arthur's court?" "he is," said gawain; "and truly he is the knight who fought with thee last." "verily," said perceval, "i am not sorry to have thus avenged the insult to the smiling maiden. "then perceval told him his name, and said, "who art thou?" and he replied, "i am gawain." "i am right glad to meet thee," said perceval, "for i have everywhere heard of thy prowess and uprightness; and i solicit thy fellowship." "thou shalt have it, by my faith; and grant me thine," said he. "gladly will i do so," answered perceval. so they went together to arthur, and saluted him. "behold, lord," said gawain, "him whom thou hast sought so long." "welcome unto thee, chieftain," said arthur. and hereupon there came the queen and her handmaidens, and perceval saluted them. and they were rejoiced to see him, and bade him welcome. and arthur did him great honor and respect and they returned towards caerleon. chapter xix the sangreal, or holy graal the sangreal was the cup from which our saviour drank at his last supper. he was supposed to have given it to joseph of arimathea, who carried it to europe, together with the spear with which the soldier pierced the saviour's side. from generation to generation, one of the descendants of joseph of arimathea had been devoted to the guardianship of these precious relics; but on the sole condition of leading a life of purity in thought, word, and deed. for a long time the sangreal was visible to all pilgrims, and its presence conferred blessings upon the land in which it was preserved. but at length one of those holy men to whom its guardianship had descended so far forgot the obligation of his sacred office as to look with unhallowed eye upon a young female pilgrim whose robe was accidentally loosened as she knelt before him. the sacred lance instantly punished his frailty, spontaneously falling upon him, and inflicting a deep wound. the marvellous wound could by no means be healed, and the guardian of the sangreal was ever after called "le roi pescheur,"--the sinner king. the sangreal withdrew its visible presence from the crowds who came to worship, and an iron age succeeded to the happiness which its presence had diffused among the tribes of britain. "but then the times grew to such evil that the holy cup was caught away to heaven and disappear'd." --the holy grail. we have told in the history of merlin how that great prophet and enchanter sent a message to king arthur by sir gawain, directing him to undertake the recovery of the sangreal, informing him at the same time that the knight who should accomplish that sacred quest was already born, and of a suitable age to enter upon it. sir gawain delivered his message, and the king was anxiously revolving in his mind how best to achieve the enterprise, when, at the vigil of pentecost, all the fellowship of the round table being met together at camelot, as they sat at meat, suddenly there was heard a clap of thunder, and then a bright light burst forth, and every knight, as he looked on his fellow, saw him, in seeming, fairer than ever before. all the hall was filled with sweet odors, and every knight had such meat and drink as he best loved. then there entered into the hall the holy graal, covered with white samite, so that none could see it, and it passed through the hall suddenly, and disappeared. during this time no one spoke a word, but when they had recovered breath to speak king arthur said, "certainly we ought greatly to thank the lord for what he hath showed us this day." then sir gawain rose up, and made a vow that for twelve months and a day he would seek the sangreal, and not return till he had seen it, if so he might speed. when they of the round table heard sir gawain say so, they arose, the most part of them, and vowed the same. when king arthur heard this, he was greatly displeased, for he knew well that they might not gainsay their vows. "alas!" said he to sir gawain, "you have nigh slain me with the vow and promise that ye have made, for ye have bereft me of the fairest fellowship that ever were seen together in any realm of the world; for when they shall depart hence, i am sure that all shall never meet more in this world." sir galahad at that time there entered the hall a good old man, and with him he brought a young knight, and these words he said: "peace be with you, fair lords." then the old man said unto king arthur, "sir, i bring you here a young knight that is of kings' lineage, and of the kindred of joseph of arimathea, being the son of dame elaine, the daughter of king pelles, king of the foreign country." now the name of the young knight was sir galahad, and he was the son of sir launcelot du lac; but he had dwelt with his mother, at the court of king pelles, his grandfather, till now he was old enough to bear arms, and his mother had sent him in the charge of a holy hermit to king arthur's court. then sir launcelot beheld his son, and had great joy of him. and sir bohort told his fellows, "upon my life, this young knight shall come to great worship." the noise was great in all the court, so that it came to the queen. and she said, "i would fain see him, for he must needs be a noble knight, for so is his father." and the queen and her ladies all said that he resembled much unto his father; and he was seemly and demure as a dove, with all manner of good features, that in the whole world men might not find his match. and king arthur said, "god make him a good man, for beauty faileth him not, as any that liveth." then the hermit led the young knight to the siege perilous; and he lifted up the cloth, and found there letters that said, "this is the seat of sir galahad, the good knight;" and he made him sit in that seat. and all the knights of the round table marvelled greatly at sir galahad, seeing him sit securely in that seat, and said, "this is he by whom the sangreal shall be achieved, for there never sat one before in that seat without being mischieved." on the next day the king said, "now, at this quest of the sangreal shall all ye of the round table depart, and never shall i see you again altogether; therefore i will that ye all repair to the meadow of camelot, for to just and tourney yet once more before ye depart." but all the meaning of the king was to see sir galahad proved. so then were they all assembled in the meadow. then sir galahad, by request of the king and queen, put on his harness and his helm, but shield would he take none for any prayer of the king. and the queen was in a tower, with all her ladies, to behold that tournament. then sir galahad rode into the midst of the meadow; and there he began to break spears marvellously, so that all men had wonder of him, for he surmounted all knights that encountered with him, except two, sir launcelot and sir perceval. "so many knights, that all the people cried, and almost burst the barriers in their heat, shouting 'sir galahad and sir perceval!'" --sir galahad then the king, at the queen's request, made him to alight, and presented him to the queen; and she said, "never two men resembled one another more than he and sir launcelot, and therefore it is no marvel that he is like him in prowess." then the king and the queen went to the minster, and the knights followed them. and after the service was done they put on their helms and departed, and there was great sorrow. they rode through the streets of camelot, and there was weeping of the rich and poor; and the king turned away, and might not speak for weeping. and so they departed, and every knight took the way that him best liked. sir galahad rode forth without shield, and rode four days, and found no adventure. and on the fourth day he came to a white abbey; and there he was received with great reverence, and led to a chamber. he met there two knights, king bagdemagus and sir uwaine, and they made of him great solace. "sirs," said sir galahad, "what adventure brought you hither?" "sir," said they, "it is told us that within this place is a shield, which no man may bear unless he be worthy; and if one unworthy should attempt to bear it, it shall surely do him a mischief." then king bagdemagus said, "i fear not to bear it, and that shall ye see to- morrow." so on the morrow they arose, and heard mass; then king bagdemagus asked where the adventurous shield was. anon a monk led him behind an altar, where the shield hung, as white as snow; but in the midst there was a red cross. then king bagdemagus took the shield, and bare it out of the minster; and he said to sir galahad, "if it please you, abide here till ye know how i shall speed." then king bagdemagus and his squire rode forth: and when they had ridden a mile or two, they saw a goodly knight come towards them, in white armor, horse and all; and he came as fast as his horse might run, with his spear in the rest; and king bagdemagus directed his spear against him, and broke it upon the white knight, but the other struck him so hard that he broke the mails, and thrust him through the right shoulder, for the shield covered him not, and so he bare him from his horse. then the white knight turned his horse and rode away. then the squire went to king bagdemagus, and asked him whether he were sore wounded or not. "i am sore wounded," said he, "and full hardly shall i escape death." then the squire set him on his horse, and brought him to an abbey; and there he was taken down softly, and unarmed, and laid in a bed, and his wound was looked to, for he lay there long, and hardly escaped with his life. and the squire brought the shield back to the abbey. the next day sir galahad took the shield, and within a while he came to the hermitage, where he met the white knight, and each saluted the other courteously. "sir," said sir galahad, "can you tell me the marvel of the shield?" "sir," said the white knight, "that shield belonged of old to the gentle knight, joseph of arimathea; and when he came to die he said, 'never shall man bear this shield about his neck but he shall repent it, unto the time that sir galahad the good knight bear it, the last of my lineage, the which shall do many marvellous deeds.'" and then the white knight vanished away. sir gawain after sir gawain departed, he rode many days, both toward and forward, and at last he came to the abbey where sir galahad took the white shield. and they told sir gawain of the marvellous adventure that sir galahad had done. "truly," said sir gawain, "i am not happy that i took not the way that he went, for, if i may meet with him, i will not part from him lightly, that i may partake with him all the marvellous adventures which he shall achieve." "sir," said one of the monks, "he will not be of your fellowship." "why?" said sir gawain. "sir," said he, "because ye be sinful, and he is blissful." then said the monk, "sir gawain, thou must do penance for thy sins." "sir, what penance shall i do?" "such as i will show," said the good man. "nay," said sir gawain, "i will do no penance, for we knights adventurous often suffer great woe and pain." "well," said the good man; and he held his peace. and sir gawain departed. now it happened, not long after this, that sir gawain and sir hector rode together, and they came to a castle where was a great tournament. and sir gawain and sir hector joined themselves to the party that seemed the weaker, and they drove before them the other party. then suddenly came into the lists a knight, bearing a white shield with a red cross, and by adventure he came by sir gawain, and he smote him so hard that he clave his helm and wounded his head, so that sir gawain fell to the earth. when sir hector saw that, he knew that the knight with the white shield was sir galahad, and he thought it no wisdom to abide him, and also for natural love, that he was his uncle. then sir galahad retired privily, so that none knew where he had gone. and sir hector raised up sir gawain, and said, "sir, me seemeth your quest is done." "it is done," said sir gawain; "i shall seek no further." then gawain was borne into the castle, and unarmed, and laid in a rich bed, and a leech found to search his wound. and sir gawain and sir hector abode together, for sir hector would not away till sir gawain were whole. chapter xx the sangreal (continued) sir launcelot sir launcelot rode overthwart and endlong in a wide forest, and held no path but as wild adventure lee him. "my golden spurs now bring to me, and bring to me my richest mail, for to-morrow i go over land and sea in search of the holy, holy grail shall never a bed for me be spread, nor shall a pillow be under my head, till i begin my vow to keep. here on the rushes will i sleep, and perchance there may come a vision true ere day create the world anew" --lowell's holy grail. and at last he came to a stone cross. then sir launcelot looked round him, and saw an old chapel. so he tied his horse to a tree, and put off his shield, and hung it upon a tree; and then he went into the chapel, and looked through a place where the wall was broken. and within he saw a fair altar, full richly arrayed with cloth of silk; and there stood a fair candlestick, which bare six great candles, and the candlestick was of silver. when sir launcelot saw this sight, he had a great wish to enter the chapel, but he could find no place where he might enter. then was he passing heavy and dismayed. and he returned and came again to his horse, and took off his saddle and his bridle, and let him pasture; and unlaced his helm, and ungirded his sword, and laid him down to sleep upon his shield before the cross. and as he lay, half waking and half sleeping, he saw come by him two palfreys, both fair and white, which bare a litter, on which lay a sick knight. and when he was nigh the cross, he there abode still. and sir launcelot heard him say, "o sweet lord, when shall this sorrow leave me, and when shall the holy vessel come by me whereby i shall be healed?" and thus a great while complained the knight, and sir launcelot heard it. then sir launcelot saw the candlestick, with the lighted tapers, come before the cross, but he could see nobody that brought it. also there came a salver of silver and the holy vessel of the sangreal; and therewithal the sick knight sat him upright, and held up both his hands, and said, "fair, sweet lord, which is here within the holy vessel, take heed to me, that i may be whole of this great malady." and therewith, upon his hands and upon his knees, he went so nigh that he touched the holy vessel and kissed it. and anon he was whole. then the holy vessel went into the chapel again, with the candlestick and the light, so that sir launcelot wist not what became of it. then the sick knight rose up and kissed the cross; and anon his squire brought him his arms and asked his lord how he did. "i thank god right heartily," said he, "for, through the holy vessel, i am healed. but i have great marvel of this sleeping knight, who hath had neither grace nor power to awake during the time that the holy vessel hath been here present." "i dare it right well say," said the squire, "that this same knight is stained with some manner of deadly sin, whereof he was never confessed." so they departed. then anon sir launcelot waked, and set himself upright, and bethought him of what he had seen and whether it were dreams or not. and he was passing heavy, and wist not what to do. and he said: "my sin and my wretchedness hath brought me into great dishonor. for when i sought worldly adventures and worldly desires, i ever achieved them, and had the better in every place, and never was i discomfited in any quarrel, were it right or wrong. and now i take upon me the adventure of holy things, i see and understand that mine old sin hindereth me, so that i had no power to stir nor to speak when the holy blood appeared before me." so thus he sorrowed till it was day, and heard the fowls of the air sing. then was he somewhat comforted. then he departed from the cross into the forest. and there he found a hermitage, and a hermit therein, who was going to mass. so when mass was done sir launcelot called the hermit to him, and prayed him for charity to hear his confession. "with a good will," said the good man. and then he told that good man all his life, and how he had loved a queen unmeasurably many years. "and all my great deeds of arms that i have done i did the most part for the queen's sake, and for her sake would i do battle, were it right or wrong, and never did i battle all only for god's sake, but for to win worship, and to cause me to be better beloved; and little or naught i thanked god for it. i pray you counsel me." "i will counsel you," said the hermit, "if ye will insure me that ye will never come in that queen's fellowship as much as ye may forbear." and then sir launcelot promised the hermit, by his faith, that he would no more come in her company. "look that your heart and your mouth accord," said the good man, "and i shall insure you that ye shall have more worship than ever ye had." then the good man enjoined sir launcelot such penance as he might do, and he assailed sir launcelot and made him abide with him all that day. and sir launcelot repented him greatly. sir perceval sir perceval departed and rode till the hour of noon; and he met in a valley about twenty men of arms. and when they saw sir perceval, they asked him whence he was; and he answered: "of the court of king arthur." then they cried all at once, "slay him." but sir perceval smote the first to the earth, and his horse upon him. then seven of the knights smote upon his shield all at once, and the remnant slew his horse, so that he fell to the earth. so had they slain him or taken him, had not the good knight sir galahad, with the red cross, come there by adventure. and when he saw all the knights upon one, he cried out, "save me that knight's life." then he rode toward the twenty men of arms as fast as his horse might drive, with his spear in the rest, and smote the foremost horse and man to the earth. and when his spear was broken, he set his hand to his sword, and smote on the right hand and on the left, that it was marvel to see; and at every stroke he smote down one, or put him to rebuke, so that they would fight no more, but fled to a thick forest, and sir galahad followed them. and when sir perceval saw him chase them so, he made great sorrow that his horse was slain. and he wist well it was sir galahad. then he cried aloud, "ah, fair knight, abide, and suffer me to do thanks unto thee; for right well have ye done for me." but sir galahad rode so fast that at last he passed out of his sight. when sir perceval saw that he would not turn, he said, "now am i a very wretch, and most unhappy above all other knights." so in his sorrow he abode all that day till it was night; and then he was faint, and laid him down and slept till midnight; and then he awaked and saw before him a woman, who said unto him, "sir perceval, what dost thou here?" he answered, "i do neither good, nor great ill." "if thou wilt promise me," said she, "that thou wilt fulfil my will when i summon thee, i will lend thee my own horse, which shall bear thee whither thou wilt." sir perceval was glad of her proffer, and insured her to fulfil all her desire. "then abide me here, and i will go fetch you a horse." and so she soon came again, and brought a horse with her that was inky black. when perceval beheld that horse he marvelled, it was so great and so well apparelled. and he leapt upon him and took no heed of himself. and he thrust him with his spurs, and within an hour and less he bare him four days' journey thence, until he came to a rough water, which roared, and his horse would have borne him into it. and when sir perceval came nigh the brim and saw the water so boisterous he doubted to overpass it. and then he made the sign of the cross on his forehead. when the fiend felt him so charged, he shook off sir perceval, and went into the water crying and roaring; and it seemed unto him that the water burned. then sir perceval perceived it was a fiend that would have brought him unto his perdition. then he commended himself unto god, and prayed our lord to keep him from all such temptations; and so he prayed all that night till it was day. then he saw that he was in a wild place, that was closed with the sea nigh all about. and sir perceval looked forth over the sea, and saw a ship come sailing towards him; and it came and stood still under the rock. and when sir perceval saw this, he hied him thither, and found the ship covered with silk; and therein was a lady of great beauty, and clothed so richly that none might be better. and when she saw sir perceval, she saluted him, and sir perceval returned her salutation. then he asked her of her country and her lineage. and she said, "i am a gentlewoman that am disinherited, and was once the richest woman of the world." "damsel," said sir perceval, "who hath disinherited you? for i have great pity of you." "sir," said she, "my enemy is a great and powerful lord, and aforetime he made much of me, so that of his favor and of my beauty i had a little pride more than i ought to have had. also i said a word that pleased him not. so he drove me from his company and from mine heritage. therefore i know no good knight nor good man, but i get him on my side if i may. and for that i know that thou art a good knight, i beseech thee to help me." then sir perceval promised her all the help that he might, and she thanked him. and at that time the weather was hot, and she called to her a gentlewoman, and bade her bring forth a pavilion. and she did so, and pitched it upon the gravel. "sir," said she, "now may ye rest you in this heat of the day." then he thanked her, and she put off his helm and his shield, and there he slept a great while. then he awoke, and asked her if she had any meat, and she said yea, and so there was set upon the table all manner of meats that he could think on. also he drank there the strongest wine that ever he drank, and therewith he was a little chafed more than he ought to be. with that he beheld the lady, and he thought she was the fairest creature that ever he saw. and then sir perceval proffered her love, and prayed her that she would be his. then she refused him in a manner, for the cause he should be the more ardent on her, and ever he ceased not to pray her of love. and when she saw him well enchafed, then she said, "sir perceval, wit you well i shall not give ye my love, unless you swear from henceforth you will be my true servant, and do no thing but that i shall command you. will you insure me this, as ye be a true knight?" "yea," said he, "fair lady, by the faith of my body." and as he said this, by adventure and grace, he saw his sword lie on the ground naked, in whose pommel was a red cross, and the sign of the crucifix thereon. then he made the sign of the cross on his forehead, and therewith the pavilion shrivelled up, and changed into a smoke and a black cloud. and the damsel cried aloud, and hasted into the ship, and so she went with the wind roaring and yelling that it seemed all the water burned after her. then sir perceval made great sorrow, and called himself a wretch, saying, "how nigh was i lost!" then he took his arms, and departed thence. chapter xxi the sangreal (continued) sir bohort when sir boliort departed from camelot he met with a religious man, riding upon an ass; and sir bohort saluted him. "what are ye?" said the good man. "sir," said sir bohort, "i am a knight that fain would be counselled in the quest of the sangreal." so rode they both together till they came to a hermitage; and there he prayed sir bohort to dwell that night with him. so he alighted, and put away his armor, and prayed him that he might be confessed. and they went both into the chapel, and there he was clean confessed. and they ate bread and drank water together. "now," said the good man, "i pray thee that thou eat none other till thou sit at the table where the sangreal shall be." "sir," said sir bohort, "but how know ye that i shall sit there?" "yea," said the good man, "that i know well; but there shall be few of your fellows with you." then said sir bohort, "i agree me thereto" and the good man when he had heard his confession found him in so pure a life and so stable that he marvelled thereof. on the morrow, as soon as the day appeared, sir bohort departed thence, and rode into a forest unto the hour of midday. and there befell him a marvellous adventure. for he met, at the parting of two ways, two knights that led sir lionel, his brother, all naked, bound upon a strong hackney, and his hands bound before his breast; and each of them held in his hand thorns wherewith they went beating him, so that he was all bloody before and behind; but he said never a word, but, as he was great of heart, he suffered all that they did to him as though he had felt none anguish. sir bohort prepared to rescue his brother. but he looked on the other side of him, and saw a knight dragging along a fair gentlewoman, who cried out, "saint mary! succor your maid!" and when she saw sir bohort, she called to him, and said, "by the faith that ye owe to knighthood, help me!" when sir bohort heard her say thus he had such sorrow that he wist not what to do. "for if i let my brother be he must be slain, and that would i not for all the earth; and if i help not the maid i am shamed for ever." then lift he up his eyes and said, weeping, "fair lord, whose liegeman i am, keep sir lionel, my brother, that none of these knights slay him, and for pity of you, and our lady's sake, i shall succor this maid." then he cried out to the knight, "sir knight, lay your hand off that maid, or else ye be but dead." then the knight set down the maid, and took his shield, and drew out his sword. and sir bohort smote him so hard that it went through his shield and habergeon, on the left shoulder, and he fell down to the earth. then came sir bohort to the maid, "ye be delivered of this knight this time." "now," said she, "i pray you lead me there where this knight took me." "i shall gladly do it," said sir bohort. so he took the horse of the wounded knight, and set the gentlewoman upon it, and brought her there where she desired to be. and there he found twelve knights seeking after her; and when she told them how sir bohort had delivered her, they made great joy, and besought him to come to her father, a great lord, and he should be right welcomed. "truly," said sir bohort, "that may not be; for i have a great adventure to do." so he commended them to god and departed. then sir bohort rode after sir lionel, his brother, by the trace of their horses. thus he rode seeking, a great while. then he overtook a man clothed in a religious clothing, who said, "sir knight, what seek ye?" "sir," said sir bohort, "i seek my brother, that i saw within a little space beaten of two knights." "ah, sir bohort, trouble not thyself to seek for him, for truly he is dead." then he showed him a new-slain body, lying in a thick bush; and it seemed him that it was the body of sir lionel. and then he made such sorrow that he fell to the ground in a swoon, and lay there long. and when he came to himself again, he said, "fair brother, since the fellowship of you and me is sundered, shall i never have joy again; and now he that i have taken for my master, he be my help!" and when he had said thus he took up the body in his arms, and put it upon the horse. and then he said to the man, "canst thou tell me the way to some chapel, where i may bury this body?" "come on," said the man, "here is one fast by." and so they rode till they saw a fair tower, and beside it a chapel. then they alighted both, and put the body into a tomb of marble. then sir bohort commended the good man unto god, and departed. and he rode all that day, and harbored with an old lady. and on the morrow he rode unto the castle in a valley, and there he met with a yeoman. "tell me," said sir bohort, "knowest thou of any adventure?" "sir," said he, "here shall be, under this castle, a great and marvellous tournament." then sir bohort thought to be there, if he might meet with any of the fellowship that were in quest of the sangreal; so he turned to a hermitage that was on the border of the forest. and when he was come hither, he found there sir lionel his brother, who sat all armed at the entry of the chapel door. and when sir bohort saw him, he had great joy, and he alighted off his horse, and said. "fair brother, when came ye hither?" as soon as sir lionel saw him he said, "ah, sir bohort, make ye no false show, for, as for you, i might have been slain, for ye left me in peril of death to go succor a gentlewoman; and for that misdeed i now assure you but death, for ye have right well deserved it." when sir bohort perceived his brother's wrath he kneeled down to the earth and cried him mercy, holding up both his hands, and prayed him to forgive him. "nay," said sir lionel, "thou shalt have but death for it, if i have the upper hand; therefore leap upon thy horse and keep thyself, and if thou do not i will run upon thee there as thou standest on foot, and so the shame shall be mine, and the harm thine, but of that i reck not." when sir bohort saw that he must fight with his brother or else die, he wist not what to do. then his heart counselled him not so to do, inasmuch as sir lionel was his elder brother, wherefore he ought to bear him reverence. yet kneeled he down before sir lionel's horse's feet, and said, "fair brother, have mercy upon me and slay me not." but sir lionel cared not, for the fiend had brought him in such a will that he should slay him. when he saw that sir bohort would not rise to give him battle, he rushed over him, so that he smote him with his horse's feet to the earth, and hurt him sore, that he swooned of distress. when sir lionel saw this he alighted from his horse for to have smitten off his head; and so he took him by the helm, and would have rent it from his head. but it happened that sir colgrevance, a knight of the round table, came at that time thither, as it was our lord's will; and then he beheld how sir lionel would have slain his brother, and he knew sir bohort, whom he loved right well. then leapt he down from his horse and took sir lionel by the shoulders, and drew him strongly back from sir bohort, and said, "sir lionel, will ye slay your brother?" "why," said sir lionel, "will ye stay me? if ye interfere in this i will slay you, and him after." then he ran upon sir bohort, and would have smitten him; but sir colgrevance ran between them, and said, "if ye persist to do so any more, we two shall meddle together." then sir lionel defied him, and gave him a great stroke through the helm. then he drew his sword, for he was a passing good knight, and defended himself right manfully. so long endured the battle, that sir bohort rose up all anguishly, and beheld sir colgrevance, the good knight, fight with his brother for his quarrel. then was he full sorry and heavy, and thought that if sir colgrevance slew him that was his brother he should never have joy, and if his brother slew sir colgrevance the shame should ever be his. then would he have risen for to have parted them, but he had not so much strength to stand on his feet; so he staid so long that sir colgrevance had the worse; for sir lionel was of great chivalry and right hardy. then cried sir colgrevance, "ah, sir bohort, why come ye not to bring me out of peril of death, wherein i have put me to succor you?" with that, sir lionel smote off his helm and bore him to the earth. and when he had slain sir colgrevance he ran upon his brother as a fiendly man, and gave him such a stroke that he made him stoop. and he that was full of humility prayed him, "for god's sake leave this battle, for if it befell, fair brother, that i slew you, or ye me, we should be dead of that sin." "pray ye not me for mercy," said sir lionel. then sir bohort, all weeping, drew his sword, and said, "now god have mercy upon me, though i defend my life against my brother." with that sir bohort lifted up his sword, and would have smitten his brother. then he heard a voice that said, "flee, sir bohort, and touch him not." right so alighted a cloud between them, in the likeness of a fire and a marvellous flame, so that they both fell to the earth, and lay there a great while in a swoon. and when they came to themselves, sir bohort saw that his brother had no harm; and he was right glad, for he dread sore that god had taken vengeance upon him. then sir lionel said to his brother, "brother, forgive me, for god's sake, all that i have trespassed against you." and sir bohort answered, "god forgive it thee, and i do." with that sir bohort heard a voice say, "sir bohort, take thy way anon, right to the sea, for sir perceval abideth thee there." so sir bohort departed, and rode the nearest way to the sea. and at last he came to an abbey that was nigh the sea. that night he rested him there, and in his sleep there came a voice unto him and bade him go to the sea-shore. he started up, and made a sign of the cross on his forehead, and armed himself, and made ready his horse and mounted him, and at a broken wall he rode out, and came to the sea-shore. and there he found a ship, covered all with white samite. and he entered into the ship; but it was anon so dark that he might see no man, and he laid him down and slept till it was day. then he awaked, and saw in the middle of the ship a knight all armed, save his helm. and then he knew it was sir perceval de galis, and each made of other right great joy. then said sir perceval, "we lack nothing now but the good knight sir galahad." sir launcelot (resumed) it befell upon a night sir launcelot arrived before a castle, which was rich and fair. and there was a postern that was opened toward the sea, and was open without any keeping, save two lions kept the entry; and the moon shined clear. anon sir launcelot heard a voice that said, "launcelot, enter into the castle, where thou shalt see a great part of thy desire." so he went unto the gate, and saw the two lions; then he set hands to his sword, and drew it. then there came suddenly as it were a stroke upon the arm, so sore that the sword fell out of his hand, and he heard a voice that said, "o man of evil faith, wherefore believest thou more in thy armor than in thy maker?" then said sir launcelot, "fair lord, i thank thee of thy great mercy, that thou reprovest me of my misdeed; now see i well that thou holdest me for thy servant." then he made a cross on his forehead, and came to the lions; and they made semblance to do him harm, but he passed them without hurt, and entered into the castle, and he found no gate nor door but it was open. but at the last he found a chamber whereof the door was shut; and he set his hand thereto, to have opened it, but he might not. then he listened, and heard a voice which sung so sweetly that it seemed none earthly thing; and the voice said, "joy and honor be to the father of heaven." then sir launcelot kneeled down before the chamber, for well he wist that there was the sangreal in that chamber. then said he, "fair, sweet lord, if ever i did anything that pleased thee, for thy pity show me something of that which i seek." and with that he saw the chamber door open, and there came out a great clearness, that the house was as bright as though all the torches of the world had been there. so he came to the chamber door, and would have entered; and anon a voice said unto him, "stay, sir launcelot, and enter not." and he withdrew him back, and was right heavy in his mind. then looked he in the midst of the chamber, and saw a table of silver, and the holy vessel, covered with red samite, and many angels about it; whereof one held a candle of wax burning, and another held a cross, and the ornaments of the altar. "o, yet methought i saw the holy grail, all pall'd in crimson samite, and around great angels, awful shapes, and wings and eyes" --the holy grail. then for very wonder and thankfulness sir launcelot forgot himself and he stepped forward and entered the chamber. and suddenly a breath that seemed intermixed with fire smote him so sore in the visage that therewith he fell to the ground, and had no power to rise. then felt he many hands about him, which took him up and bare him out of the chamber, without any amending of his swoon, and left him there, seeming dead to all the people. so on the morrow, when it was fair daylight, and they within were arisen, they found sir launcelot lying before the chamber door. and they looked upon him and felt his pulse, to know if there were any life in him. and they found life in him, but he might neither stand nor stir any member that he had. so they took him and bare him into a chamber, and laid him upon a bed, far from all folk, and there he lay many days. then the one said he was alive, and the others said nay. but said an old man, "he is as full of life as the mightiest of you all, and therefore i counsel you that he be well kept till god bring him back again." and after twenty-four days he opened his eyes; and when he saw folk he made great sorrow, and said, "why have ye wakened me? for i was better at ease than i am now." "what have ye seen?" said they about him. "i have seen," said he, "great marvels that no tongue can tell, and more than any heart can think." then they said, "sir, the quest of the sangreal is achieved right now in you, and never shall ye see more of it than ye have seen." "i thank god," said sir launcelot, "of his great mercy, for that i have seen, for it sufficeth me." then he rose up and clothed himself; and when he was so arrayed they marvelled all, for they knew it was sir launcelot the good knight. and after four days he took his leave of the lord of the castle, and of all the fellowship that were there, and thanked them for their great labor and care of him. then he departed, and turned to camelot, where he found king arthur and queen guenever; but many of the knights of the round table were slain and destroyed, more than half. then all the court was passing glad of sir launcelot; and he told the king all his adventures that had befallen him since he departed. sir galahad now, when sir galahad had rescued perceval from the twenty knights, he rode into a vast forest, wherein he abode many days. then he took his way to the sea, and it befell him that he was benighted in a hermitage. and the good man was glad when he saw he was a knight-errant. and when they were at rest, there came a gentlewoman knocking at the door; and the good man came to the door to wit what she would. then she said, "i would speak with the knight which is with you." then galahad went to her, and asked her what she would. "sir galahad," said she, "i will that ye arm you, and mount upon your horse, and follow me; for i will show you the highest adventure that ever knight saw." then galahad armed himself and commended himself to god, and bade the damsel go before, and he would follow where she led. so she rode as fast as her palfrey might bear her, till she came to the sea; and there they found the ship where sir bohort and sir perceval were, who cried from the ship, "sir galahad, you are welcome; we have waited you long." and when he heard them, he asked the damsel who they were. "sir," said she, "leave your horse here, and i shall leave mine, and we will join ourselves to their company." so they entered into the ship, and the two knights received them both with great joy. for they knew the damsel, that she was sir perceval's sister. then the wind arose and drove them through the sea all that day and the next, till the ship arrived between two rocks, passing great and marvellous; but there they might not land, for there was a whirlpool; but there was another ship, and upon it they might go without danger. "go we thither," said the gentlewoman, "and there we shall see adventures, for such is our lord's will." then sir galahad blessed him, and entered therein, and then next the gentlewoman, and then sir bohort and sir perceval. and when they came on board they found there the table of silver, and the sangreal, which was covered with red samite. and they made great reverence thereto, and sir galahad prayed a long time to our lord, that at what time he should ask to pass out of this world he should do so; and a voice said to him, "galahad, thou shalt have thy request; and when thou askest the death of thy body, thou shalt have it, and then shalt thou find the life of thy soul." and anon the wind drove them across the sea, till they came to the city of sarras. then took they out of the ship the table of silver, and sir perceval and sir bohort took it before, and sir galahad came behind, and right so they went to the city. and at the gate of the city they saw an old man, a cripple. "and sir launfal said, 'i behold in thee an image of him who died on the tree thou also hast had thy crown of thorns, thou also hast had the world's buffets and scorns; and to thy life were not denied the wounds in thy hands and feet and side mild mary's son, acknowledge me; behold, through him i give to thee!'" --lowell's holy grail. then galahad called him, and bade him help to bear this heavy thing. "truly," said the old man, "it is ten years since i could not go but with crutches." "care thou not," said sir galahad, "but arise up, and show thy good will." then the old man rose up, and assayed, and found himself as whole as ever he was; and he ran to the table, and took one part with sir galahad. when they came to the city it chanced that the king was just dead, and all the city was dismayed, and wist not who might be their king. right so, as they were in counsel, there came a voice among them, and bade them choose the youngest knight of those three to be their king. so they made sir galahad king, by all the assent of the city. and when he was made king, he commanded to make a chest of gold and of precious stones to hold the holy vessel. and every day the three companions would come before it and make their prayers. now at the year's end, and the same day of the year that sir galahad received the crown, he got up early, and, with his fellows, came to where the holy vessel was; and they saw one kneeling before it that had about him a great fellowship of angels; and he called sir galahad, and said, "come, thou servant of the lord, and thou shalt see what thou hast much desired to see." and sir galahad's mortal flesh trembled right hard when he began to behold the spiritual things. then said the good man, "now wottest thou who i am?" "nay," said sir galahad. "i am joseph of arimathea, whom our lord hath sent here to thee, to bear thee fellowship." then sir galahad held up his hands toward heaven, and said, "now, blessed lord, would i not longer live, if it might please thee." and when he had said these words, sir galahad went to sir perceval and to sir bohort and kissed them, and commended them to god. and then he kneeled down before the table, and made his prayers, and suddenly his soul departed, and a great multitude of angels bare his soul up to heaven, so as the two fellows could well behold it. also they saw come from heaven a hand, but they saw not the body; and the hand came right to the vessel and bare it up to heaven. since then was there never one so hardy as to say that he had seen the sangreal on earth any more. chapter xxii sir agrivain's treason when sir perceval and sir bohort saw sir galahad dead they made as much sorrow as ever did two men. and if they had not been good men they might have fallen into despair. as soon as sir galahad was buried sir perceval retired to a hermitage out of the city, and took a religious clothing; and sir bohort was always with him, but did not change his secular clothing, because he purposed to return to the realm of loegria. thus a year and two months lived sir perceval in the hermitage a full holy life, and then passed out of this world, and sir bohort buried him by his sister and sir galahad. then sir bohort armed himself and departed from sarras, and entered into a ship, and sailed to the kingdom of loegria, and in due time arrived safe at camelot, where the king was. then was there great joy made of him in the whole court, for they feared he had been dead. then the king made great clerks to come before him, that they should chronicle of the high adventures of the good knights. and sir bohort told him of the adventures that had befallen him, and his two fellows, sir perceval and sir galahad. and sir launcelot told the adventures of the sangreal that he had seen. all this was made in great books, and put up in the church at salisbury. so king arthur and queen guenever made great joy of the remnant that were come home, and chiefly of sir launcelot and sir bohort. then sir launcelot began to resort unto queen guenever again, and forgot the promise that he made in the quest: so that many in the court spoke of it, and in especial sir agrivain, sir gawain's brother, for he was ever open-mouthed. so it happened sir gawain and all his brothers were in king arthur's chamber, and then sir agrivain said thus openly, "i marvel that we all are not ashamed to see and to know so noble a knight as king arthur so to be shamed by the conduct of sir launcelot and the queen. "then spoke sir gawain, and said, "brother, sir agrivain, i pray you and charge you move not such matters any more before me, for be ye assured i will not be of your counsel." "neither will we," said sir gaheris and sir gareth. "then will i," said sir modred. "i doubt you not," said sir gawain, "for to all mischief ever were ye prone; yet i would that ye left all this, for i know what will come of it." "modred's narrow foxy face, heart-hiding smile, and gray persistent eye: henceforward, too, the powers that tend the soul to help it from the death that cannot die, and save it even in extremes, began to vex and plague." --guinevere. "fall of it what fall may," said sir agrivain, "i will disclose it to the king." with that came to them king arthur. "now, brothers, hold your peace," said sir gawain. "we will not," said sir agrivain. then said sir gawain, "i will not hear your tales nor be of your counsel." "no more will i," said sir gareth and sir gaheris, and therewith they departed, making great sorrow. then sir agrivain told the king all that was said in the court of the conduct of sir launcelot and the queen, and it grieved the king very much. but he would not believe it to be true without proof. so sir agrivain laid a plot to entrap sir launcelot and the queen, intending to take them together unawares. sir agrivain and sir modred led a party for this purpose, but sir launcelot escaped from them, having slain sir agrivain and wounded sir modred. then sir launcelot hastened to his friends, and told them what had happened, and withdrew with them to the forest; but he left spies to bring him tidings of whatever might be done. so sir launcelot escaped, but the queen remained in the king's power, and arthur could no longer doubt of her guilt. and the law was such in those days that they who committed such crimes, of what estate or condition soever they were, must be burned to death, and so it was ordained for queen guenever. then said king arthur to sir gawain, "i pray you make you ready, in your best armor, with your brethren, sir gaheris and sir gareth, to bring my queen to the fire, there to receive her death." "nay, my most noble lord," said sir gawain, "that will i never do; for know thou well, my heart will never serve me to see her die, and it shall never be said that i was of your counsel in her death." then the king commanded sir gaheris and sir gareth to be there, and they said, "we will be there, as ye command us, sire, but in peaceable wise, and bear no armor upon us." so the queen was led forth, and her ghostly father was brought to her to shrive her, and there was weeping and wailing of many lords and ladies. and one went and told sir launcelot that the queen was led forth to her death. then sir launcelot and the knights that were with him fell upon the troop that guarded the queen, and dispersed them, and slew all who withstood them. and in the confusion sir gareth and sir gaheris were slain, for they were unarmed and defenceless. and sir launcelot carried away the queen to his castle of la joyeuse garde. then there came one to sir gawain and told him how that sir launcelot had slain the knights and carried away the queen. "o lord, defend my brethren!" said sir gawain. "truly," said the man, "sir gareth and sir gaheris are slain." "alas!" said sir gawain, "now is my joy gone." and then he fell down and swooned, and long he lay there as he had been dead. when he arose out of his swoon sir gawain ran to the king, crying, "o king arthur, mine uncle, my brothers are slain." then the king wept and he both. "my king, my lord, and mine uncle," said sir gawain, "bear witness now that i make you a promise that i shall hold by my knighthood, and from this day i will never fail sir launcelot until the one of us have slain the other. i will seek sir launcelot throughout seven kings' realms, but i shall slay him or he shall slay me." "ye shall not need to seek him," said the king, "for as i hear, sir launcelot will abide me and you in the joyeuse garde; and much people draweth unto him, as i hear say." "that may i believe," said sir gawain; "but, my lord, summon your friends, and i will summon mine." "it shall be done," said the king. so then the king sent letters and writs throughout all england, both in the length and breadth, to summon all his knights. and unto arthur drew many knights, dukes, and earls, so that he had a great host. thereof heard sir launcelot, and collected all whom he could; and many good knights held with him, both for his sake and for the queen's sake. but king arthur's host was too great for sir launcelot to abide him in the field; and he was full loath to do battle against the king. so sir launcelot drew him to his strong castle, with all manner of provisions. then came king arthur with sir gawain, and laid siege all about la joyeuse garde, both the town and the castle; but in no wise would sir launcelot ride out of his castle, neither suffer any of his knights to issue out, until many weeks were past. then it befell upon a day in harvest-time, sir launcelot looked over the wall, and spoke aloud to king arthur and sir gawain, "my lords both, all is in vain that ye do at this siege, for here ye shall win no worship, but only dishonor; for if i list to come out, and my good knights, i shall soon make an end of this war." "come forth," said arthur, "if thou darest, and i promise thee i shall meet thee in the midst of the field." "god forbid me," said sir launcelot, "that i should encounter with the most noble king that made me knight." "fie upon thy fair language," said the king, "for know thou well i am thy mortal foe, and ever will be to my dying day." and sir gawain said, "what cause hadst thou to slay my brother, sir gaheris, who bore no arms against thee, and sir gareth, whom thou madest knight, and who loved thee more than all my kin? therefore know thou well i shall make war to thee all the while that i may live." when sir bohort, and sir hector de marys, and sir lionel heard this outcry, they called to them sir palamedes, and sir saffire his brother, and sir lawayn, with many more, and all went to sir launcelot. and they said, "my lord, sir launcelot, we pray you, if you will have our service keep us no longer within these walls, for know well all your fair speech and forbearance will not avail you." "alas!" said sir launcelot, "to ride forth and to do battle i am full loath." then he spake again unto the king and sir gawain, and willed them to keep out of the battle; but they despised his words. so then sir launcelot's fellowship came out of the castle in full good array. and always sir launcelot charged all his knights, in any wise, to save king arthur and sir gawain. then came forth sir gawain from the king's host and offered combat, and sir lionel encountered with him, and there sir gawain smote sir lionel through the body, that he fell to the earth as if dead. then there began a great conflict, and much people were slain; but ever sir launcelot did what he might to save the people on king arthur's party, and ever king arthur followed sir launcelot to slay him; but sir launcelot suffered him, and would not strike again. then sir bohort encountered with king arthur, and smote him down; and he alighted and drew his sword, and said to sir launcelot, "shall i make an end of this war?" for he meant to have slain king arthur. "not so," said sir launcelot, "touch him no more, for i will never see that most noble king that made me knight either slain or shamed;" and therewith sir launcelot alighted off his horse, and took up the king, and horsed him again, and said thus: "my lord arthur, for god's love, cease this strife." and king arthur looked upon sir launcelot, and the tears burst from his eyes, thinking on the great courtesy that was in sir launcelot more than in any other man; and therewith the king rode his way. then anon both parties withdrew to repose them, and buried the dead. but the war continued, and it was noised abroad through all christendom, and at last it was told afore the pope; and he, considering the great goodness of king arthur, and of sir launcelot, called unto him a noble clerk, which was the bishop of rochester, who was then in his dominions, and sent him to king arthur, charging him that he take his queen, dame guenever, unto him again, and make peace with sir launcelot. so, by means of this bishop, peace was made for the space of one year; and king arthur received back the queen, and sir launcelot departed from the kingdom with all his knights, and went to his own country. so they shipped at cardiff, and sailed unto benwick, which some men call bayonne. and all the people of those lands came to sir launcelot, and received him home right joyfully. and sir launcelot stablished and garnished all his towns and castles, and he greatly advanced all his noble knights, sir lionel and sir bohort, and sir hector de marys, sir blamor, sir lawayne, and many others, and made them lords of lands and castles; till he left himself no more than any one of them. "then arthur made vast banquets, and strange knights from the four winds came in: and each one sat, tho' served with choice from air, land, stream and sea, oft in mid-banquet measuring with his eyes his neighbor's make and might." --pelleas and ettarre. but when the year was passed, king arthur and sir gawain came with a great host, and landed upon sir launcelot's lands, and burned and wasted all that they might overrun. then spake sir bohort and said, "my lord, sir launcelot, give us leave to meet them in the field, and we shall make them rue the time that ever they came to this country." then said sir launcelot, "i am full loath to ride out with my knights for shedding of christian blood; so we will yet a while keep our walls, and i will send a messenger unto my lord arthur, to propose a treaty; for better is peace than always war." so sir launcelot sent forth a damsel, and a dwarf with her, requiring king arthur to leave his warring upon his lands; and so she started on a palfrey, and the dwarf ran by her side. and when she came to the pavilion of king arthur, she alighted, and there met her a gentle knight, sir lucan, the butler, and said, "fair damsel, come ye from sir launcelot du lac?" "yea, sir," she said, "i come hither to speak with the king." "alas!" said sir lucan, "my lord arthur would be reconciled to sir launcelot, but sir gawain will not suffer him." and with this sir lucan led the damsel to the king, where he sat with sir gawain, to hear what she would say. so when she had told her tale, the tears ran out of the king's eyes; and all the lords were forward to advise the king to be accorded with sir launcelot, save only sir gawain; and he said, "my lord, mine uncle, what will ye do? will you now turn back, now you are so far advanced upon your journey? if ye do all the world will speak shame of you." "nay," said king arthur, "i will do as ye advise me; but do thou give the damsel her answer, for i may not speak to her for pity." then said sir gawain, "damsel, say ye to sir launcelot, that it is waste labor to sue to mine uncle for peace, and say that i, sir gawain, send him word that i promise him, by the faith i owe unto god and to knighthood, i shall never leave him till he have slain me or i him." so the damsel returned; and when sir launcelot had heard this answer the tears ran down his cheeks. then it befell on a day sir gawain came before the gates, armed at all points, and cried with a loud voice, "where art thou now, thou false traitor, sir launcelot? why hidest thou thyself within holes and walls like a coward? look out now, thou traitor knight, and i will avenge upon thy body the death of my three brethren." all this language heard sir launcelot, and the knights which were about him; and they said to him, "sir launcelot, now must ye defend you like a knight, or else be shamed for ever, for you have slept overlong and suffered overmuch." then sir launcelot spake on high unto king arthur, and said, "my lord arthur, now i have forborne long, and suffered you and sir gawain to do what ye would, and now must i needs defend myself, inasmuch as sir gawain hath appealed me of treason." then sir launcelot armed him and mounted upon his horse, and the noble knights came out of the city, and the host without stood all apart; and so the covenant was made that no man should come near the two knights, nor deal with them, till one were dead or yielded. then sir launcelot and sir gawain departed a great way asunder, and then they came together with all their horses' might, and each smote the other in the middle of their shields, but neither of them was unhorsed, but their horses fell to the earth. and then they leapt from their horses, and drew their swords, and gave many sad strokes, so that the blood burst out in many places. now sir gawain had this gift from a holy man, that every day in the year, from morning to noon, his strength was increased threefold, and then it fell again to its natural measure. sir launcelot was aware of this, and therefore, during the three hours that sir gawain's strength was at the height, sir launcelot covered himself with his shield, and kept his might in reserve. and during that time sir gawain gave him many sad brunts, that all the knights that looked on marvelled how sir launcelot might endure them. then, when it was past noon, sir gawain had only his own might; and when sir launcelot felt him so brought down he stretched himself up, and doubled his strokes, and gave sir gawain such a buffet that he fell down on his side; and sir launcelot drew back and would strike no more. "why withdrawest thou, false traitor?" then said sir gawain; "now turn again and slay me, for if thou leave me thus when i am whole again, i shall do battle with thee again." "i shall endure you, sir, by god's grace," said sir launcelot, "but know thou well sir gawain, i will never smite a felled knight." and so sir launcelot went into the city, and sir gawain was borne into king arthur's pavilion, and his wounds were looked to. thus the siege endured, and sir gawain lay helpless near a month; and when he was near recovered came tidings unto king arthur that made him return with all his host to england. chapter xxiii morte d'arthur sir modred was left ruler of all england, and he caused letters to be written, as if from beyond sea, that king arthur was slain in battle. so he called a parliament, and made himself be crowned king; and he took the queen guenever, and said plainly that he would wed her, but she escaped from him and took refuge in the tower of london. and sir modred went and laid siege about the tower of london, and made great assaults thereat, but all might not avail him. then came word to sir modred that king arthur had raised the siege of sir launcelot, and was coming home. then sir modred summoned all the barony of the land; and much people drew unto sir modred, and said they would abide with him for better and for worse; and he drew a great host to dover, for there he heard say that king arthur would arrive. "i hear the steps of modred in the west, and with him many of thy people, and knights once thine, whom thou hast loved, but grosser grown than heathen, spitting at their vows and thee" --the passing of arthur. and as sir modred was at dover with his host, came king arthur, with a great number of ships and galleys, and there was sir modred awaiting upon the landing. then was there launching of great boats and small, full of noble men of arms, and there was much slaughter of gentle knights on both parts. but king arthur was so courageous, there might no manner of knights prevent him to land, and his knights fiercely followed him; and so they landed, and put sir modred aback so that he fled, and all his people. and when the battle was done, king arthur commanded to bury his people that were dead. and then was noble sir gawain found, in a great boat, lying more than half dead. and king arthur went to him, and made sorrow out of measure. "mine uncle," said sir gawain, "know thou well my death-day is come, and all is through mine own hastiness and wilfulness, for i am smitten upon the old wound which sir launcelot gave me, of which i feel i must die. and had sir launcelot been with you as of old, this war had never begun, and of all this i am the cause." then sir gawain prayed the king to send for sir launcelot, and to cherish him above all other knights. and so at the hour of noon sir gawain yielded up his spirit, and then the king bade inter him in a chapel within dover castle; and there all men may see the skull of him, and the same wound is seen that sir launcelot gave him in battle. then was it told the king that sir modred had pitched his camp upon barrendown; and the king rode thither, and there was a great battle betwixt them, and king arthur's party stood best, and sir modred and his party fled unto canterbury. and there was a day assigned betwixt king arthur and sir modred that they should meet upon a down beside salisbury, and not far from the sea-side, to do battle yet again. and at night, as the king slept, he dreamed a wonderful dream. it seemed him verily that there came sir gawain unto him, with a number of fair ladies with him. and when king arthur saw him, he said, "welcome, my sister's son; i weened thou hadst been dead; and now i see thee alive great is my joy. but, o fair nephew, what be these ladies that hither be come with you?" "sir," said sir gawain, "all these be ladies for whom i have fought when i was a living man; and because i did battle for them in righteous quarrel they have given me grace to bring me hither unto you to warn you of your death, if ye fight to-morrow with sir modred. therefore take ye treaty, and proffer you largely for a month's delay; for within a month shall come sir launcelot and all his noble knights, and rescue you worshipfully, and slay sir modred and all that hold with him." and then sir gawain and all the ladies vanished. and anon the king called to fetch his noble lords and wise bishops unto him. and when they were come, the king told them his vision, and what sir gawain had told him. then the king sent sir lucan, the butler, and sir bedivere, with two bishops, and charged them in any wise to take a treaty for a month and a day with sir modred. so they departed, and came to sir modred; and so, at the last, sir modred was agreed to have cornwall and kent during arthur's life, and all england after his death. "sir modred; he the nearest to the king, his nephew, ever like a subtle beast lay couchant with his eyes upon the throne, ready to spring, waiting a chance." --guinevere then was it agreed that king arthur and sir modred should meet betwixt both their hosts, and each of them should bring fourteen persons, and then and there they should sign the treaty. and when king arthur and his knights were prepared to go forth, he warned all his host, "if so be ye see any sword drawn, look ye come on fiercely, and slay whomsoever withstandeth, for i in no wise trust that traitor, sir modred." in like wise sir modred warned his host. so they met, and were agreed and accorded thoroughly. and wine was brought, and they drank. right then came an adder out of a little heath-bush, and stung a knight on the foot. and when the knight felt him sting, he looked down and saw the adder, and then he drew his sword to slay the adder, and thought of no other harm. and when the host on both sides saw that sword drawn, they blew trumpets and horns, and shouted greatly. and king arthur took his horse, and rode to his party, saying, "alas, this unhappy day!" and sir modred did in like wise. and never was there a more doleful battle in christian land. and ever king arthur rode throughout the battle, and did full nobly, as a worthy king should, and sir modred that day did his devoir, and put himself in great peril. and thus they fought all the long day, till the most of all the noble knights lay dead upon the ground. then the king looked about him, and saw of all his host were left alive but two knights, sir lucan, the butler, and sir bedivere, his brother, and they were full sore wounded. then king arthur saw where sir modred leaned upon his sword among a great heap of dead men. "now give me my spear," said arthur unto sir lucan; "for yonder i espy the traitor that hast wrought all this woe." "sir, let him be," said sir lucan; "for if ye pass this unhappy day, ye shall be right well revenged upon him. remember what the sprite of sir gawain told you, and leave off now, for ye have won the field; and if ye leave off now this evil day of destiny is past." "betide me life, betide me death," said king arthur, "he shall not now escape my hands." then the king took his spear in both hands, and ran toward sir modred, crying, "traitor, now is thy death-day come." and there king arthur smote sir modred under the shield, with a thrust of his spear through the body. and when sir modred felt that he had his death-wound, with the might that he had he smote king arthur, with his sword holden in both his hands, on the side of the head, that the sword pierced the helmet and the brain-pan; and then sir modred fell stark dead upon the earth. and the noble arthur fell in a swoon to the earth. and sir lucan, the butler, and sir bedivere raised him up, and gently led him betwixt them both to a little chapel not far from the sea-side. and when the king was there he thought him well eased. then heard they people cry in the field. and sir lucan went to see what that cry betokened; and he saw by the moonlight that pillers and robbers were come to rob the dead. and he returned, and said to the king, "by my rede, it is best that we bring you to some town." "i would it were so," said the king. and when the king tried to go he fainted. then sir lucan took up the king on the one part, and sir bedivere on the other part; and in the lifting, sir lucan fell in a swoon to the earth, for he was grievously wounded. and then the noble knight's heart burst. and when the king awoke he beheld sir lucan how he lay foaming at the mouth, and speechless. "alas!" said the king, "this is to me a full heavy sight, to see this noble duke so die for my sake; for he would have holpen me that had more need of help than i, and he would not complain, his heart was so set to help me." then sir bedivere wept for his brother. "leave this mourning and weeping," said the king, "for wilt thou well, if i might live myself, the death of sir lucan would grieve me evermore; but my time hieth fast. therefore," said arthur unto sir bedivere, "take thou excalibar, my good sword, and go with it to yonder water-side; and when thou comest there i charge thee throw my sword in that water, and come again and tell me what thou there seest." "my lord," said sir bedivere, "your commandment shall be done." so sir bedivere departed, and by the way he beheld that noble sword, that the pommel and the haft were all of precious stones; and then he said to himself, "if i throw this rich sword into the water no good shall come thereof, but only harm and loss." and then sir bedivere hid excalibar under a tree. and so, as soon as he might, he came again to the king. "what sawest thou there?" said the king. "sir," he said, "i saw nothing." "alas! thou hast deceived me," said the king. "go thou lightly again, and as thou love me, spare not to throw it in." then sir bedivere went again, and took the sword in his hand to throw it; but again it beseemed him but sin and shame to throw away that noble sword, and he hid it away again, and returned, and told the king he had done his commandment. "what sawest thou there?" said the king. "sir," he said, "i saw nothing but waters deep and waves wan." "ah, traitor untrue!" said king arthur, "now hast thou betrayed me twice. and yet thou art named a noble knight, and hast been lief and dear to me. but now go again, and do as i bid thee, for thy long tarrying putteth me in jeopardy of my life." then sir bedivere went to the sword, and lightly took it up, and went to the water-side, and he bound the girdle about the hilt, and then he threw the sword as far into the water as he might. and there came an arm and a hand out of the water, and met it, and caught it, and shook it thrice and brandished it, and then vanished away the hand with the sword in the water. then sir bedivere came again to the king, and told him what he saw. "help me hence," said the king, "for i fear i have tarried too long." then sir bedivere took the king on his back, and so went with him to that water-side; and when they came there, even fast by the bank there rode a little barge with many fair ladies in it, and among them was a queen; and all had black hoods, and they wept and shrieked when they saw king arthur. "now put me in the barge," said the king. and there received him three queens with great mourning, and in one of their laps king arthur laid his head. and the queen said, "ah, dear brother, why have ye tarried so long? alas! this wound on your head hath caught over-much cold." and then they rowed from the land, and sir bedivere beheld them go from him. then he cried: "ah, my lord arthur, will ye leave me here alone among mine enemies?" "comfort thyself," said the king, "for in me is no further help; for i will to the isle of avalon, to heal me of my grievous wound." and as soon as sir bedivere had lost sight of the barge, he wept and wailed; then he took the forest, and went all that night, and in the morning he was ware of a chapel and a hermitage. then went sir bedivere thither; and when he came into the chapel, he saw where lay an hermit on the ground, near a tomb that was newly graven. "sir," said sir bedivere, "what man is there buried that ye pray so near unto?" "fair son," said the hermit, "i know not verily. but this night there came a number of ladies, and brought hither one dead, and prayed me to bury him." "alas!" said sir bedivere, "that was my lord, king arthur." then sir bedivere swooned; and when he awoke he prayed the hermit he might abide with him, to live with fasting and prayers. "ye are welcome," said the hermit. so there bode sir bedivere with the hermit; and he put on poor clothes, and served the hermit full lowly in fasting and in prayers. thus of arthur i find never more written in books that be authorized, nor more of the very certainty of his death; but thus was he led away in a ship, wherein were three queens; the one was king arthur's sister, queen morgane le fay; the other was viviane, the lady of the lake; and the third was the queen of north galis. and this tale sir bedivere, knight of the table round, made to be written. yet some men say that king arthur is not dead, but hid away into another place, and men say that he shall come again and reign over england. but many say that there is written on his tomb this verse: "hie facet arthurus, rex quondam, rexque futurus." here arthur lies, king once and king to be. and when queen guenever understood that king arthur was slain, and all the noble knights with him, she stole away, and five ladies with her; and so she went to almesbury, and made herself a nun, and ware white clothes and black, and took great penance as ever did sinful lady, and lived in fasting, prayers, and alms-deeds. and there she was abbess and ruler of the nuns. "and when she came to almesbury she spake there to the nuns, and said, 'mine enemies pursue me, but, o peaceful sisterhood, receive, and yield me sanctuary, nor ask her name to whom ye yield it, till her time to tell you;' and her beauty, grace and power wrought as a charm upon them, and they spared to ask it." --guinevere. now turn we from her, and speak of sir launcelot of the lake. when sir launcelot heard in his country that sir modred was crowned king of england, and made war against his own uncle, king arthur, then was sir launcelot wroth out of measure, and said to his kinsmen: "alas, that double traitor, sir modred! now it repenteth me that ever he escaped out of my hands." then sir launcelot and his fellows made ready in all haste, with ships and galleys, to pass into england; and so he passed over till he came to dover, and there he landed with a great army. then sir launcelot was told that king arthur was slain. "alas!" said sir launcelot, "this is the heaviest tidings that ever came to me." then he called the kings, dukes, barons, and knights, and said thus: "my fair lords, i thank you all for coming into this country with me, but we came too late, and that shall repent me while i live. but since it is so," said sir launcelot, "i will myself ride and seek my lady, queen guenever, for i have heard say she hath fled into the west; therefore ye shall abide me here fifteen days, and if i come not within that time, then take your ships and your host, and depart into your country." so sir launcelot departed and rode westerly, and there he sought many days; and at last he came to a nunnery, and was seen of queen guenever as he walked in the cloister; and when she saw him she swooned away. and when she might speak she bade him to be called to her. and when sir launcelot was brought to her she said: "sir launcelot, i require thee and beseech thee, for all the love that ever was betwixt us, that thou never see me more, but return to thy kingdom and take thee a wife, and live with her with joy and bliss; and pray for me to my lord, that i may get my soul's health." "nay, madam," said sir launcelot, "wit you well that i shall never do; but the same destiny that ye have taken you to will i take me unto, for to please and serve god." and so they parted, with tears and much lamentation; and the ladies bare the queen to her chamber, and sir launcelot took his horse and rode away, weeping. and at last sir launcelot was ware of a hermitage and a chapel, and then he heard a little bell ring to mass; and thither he rode and alighted, and tied his horse to the gate, and heard mass. and he that sang the mass was the hermit with whom sir bedivere had taken up his abode; and sir bedivere knew sir launcelot, and they spake together after mass. but when sir bedivere had told his tale, sir launcelot's heart almost burst for sorrow. then he kneeled down, and prayed the hermit to shrive him, and besought that he might be his brother. then the hermit said, "i will gladly;" and then he put a habit upon sir launcelot, and there he served god day and night, with prayers and fastings. and the great host abode at dover till the end of the fifteen days set by sir launcelot, and then sir bohort made them to go home again to their own country; and sir bohort, sir hector de marys, sir blamor, and many others, took on them to ride through all england to seek sir launcelot. so sir bohort by fortune rode until he came to the same chapel where sir launcelot was; and when he saw sir launcelot in that manner of clothing he, prayed the hermit that he might be in that same. and so there was an habit put upon him, and there he lived in prayers and fasting. and within half a year came others of the knights, their fellows, and took such a habit as sir launcelot and sir bohort had. thus they endured in great penance six years. and upon a night there came a vision to sir launcelot, and charged him to haste toward almesbury, and "by the time thou come there, thou shalt find queen guenever dead." then sir launcelot rose up early and told the hermit thereof. then said the hermit, "it were well that ye disobey not this vision." and sir launcelot took his seven companions with him, and on foot they went from glastonbury to almesbury, which is more than thirty miles. and when they were come to almesbury, they found that queen guenever died but half an hour before. then sir launcelot saw her visage, but he wept not greatly, but sighed. and so he did all the observance of the service himself, both the "dirige" at night, and at morn he sang mass. and there was prepared an horse-bier, and sir launcelot and his fellows followed the bier on foot from almesbury until they came to glastonbury; and she was wrapped in cered clothes, and laid in a coffin of marble. and when she was put in the earth sir launcelot swooned, and lay long as one dead. and sir launcelot never after ate but little meat, nor drank; but continually mourned. and within six weeks sir launcelot fell sick; and he sent for the hermit and all his true fellows, and said, "sir hermit, i pray you give me all my rights that a christian man ought to have." "it shall not need," said the hermit and all his fellows; "it is but heaviness of your blood, and to-morrow morn you shall be well" "my fair lords," said sir launcelot, "my careful body will into the earth; i have warning more than now i will say; therefore give me my rights." so when he was houseled and aneled, and had all that a christian man ought to have, he prayed the hermit that his fellows might bear his body to joyous garde. (some men say it was alnwick, and some say it was bamborough.) "it repenteth me sore," said sir launcelot, "but i made a vow aforetime that in joyous garde i would be buried." then there was weeping and wringing of hands among his fellows. and that night sir launcelot died; and when sir bohort and his fellows came to his bedside the next morning they found him stark dead; and he lay as if he had smiled, and the sweetest savor all about him that ever they knew. and they put sir launcelot into the same horse-bier that queen guenever was laid in, and the hermit and they altogether went with the body till they came to joyous garde. and there they laid his corpse in the body of the quire, and sang and read many psalms and prayers over him. and ever his visage was laid open and naked, that all folks might behold him. and right thus, as they were at their service, there came sir hector de maris, that had seven years sought sir launcelot, his brother, through all england, scotland and wales. and when sir hector heard such sounds in the chapel of joyous garde he alighted and came into the quire. and all they knew sir hector. then went sir bohort, and told him how there lay sir launcelot, his brother, dead. then sir hector threw his shield, his sword, and helm from him. and when he beheld sir launcelot's visage it were hard for any tongue to tell the doleful complaints he made for his brother. "ah, sir launcelot!" he said, "there thou liest. and now i dare to say thou wert never matched of none earthly knight's hand. and thou wert the courteousest knight that ever bare shield; and thou wert the truest friend to thy lover that ever bestrode horse; and thou wert the truest lover, of a sinful man, that ever loved woman; and thou wert the kindest man that ever struck with sword. and thou wert the goodliest person that ever came among press of knights. and thou wert the meekest man, and the gentlest, that ever ate in hall among ladies. and thou wert the sternest knight to thy mortal foe that ever put spear in the rest." then there was weeping and dolor out of measure. thus they kept sir launcelot's corpse fifteen days, and then they buried it with great devotion. then they went back with the hermit to his hermitage. and sir bedivere was there ever still hermit to his life's end. and sir bohort, sir hector, sir blamor, and sir bleoberis went into the holy land. and these four knights did many battles upon the miscreants, the turks; and there they died upon a good friday, as it pleased god. thus endeth this noble and joyous book, entitled "la morte d'arthur;" notwithstanding it treateth of the birth, life, and acts of the said king arthur, and of his noble knights of the round table, their marvellous enquests and adventures, the achieving of the sangreal, and, in the end, le morte d'arthur, with the dolorous death and departing out of this world of them all. which book was reduced into english by sir thomas mallory, knight, and divided into twenty-one books, chaptered and imprinted and finished in the abbey westmestre, the last day of july, the year of our lord mcccclxxxv. caxton me fieri fecit. the mabinogeon introductory note it has been well known to the literati and antiquarians of europe that there exist in the great public libraries voluminous manuscripts of romances and tales once popular, but which on the invention of printing had already become antiquated, and fallen into neglect. they were therefore never printed, and seldom perused even by the learned, until about half a century ago, when attention was again directed to them, and they were found very curious monuments of ancient manners, habits, and modes of thinking. several have since been edited, some by individuals, as sir walter scott and the poet southey, others by antiquarian societies. the class of readers which could be counted on for such publications was so small that no inducement of profit could be found to tempt editors and publishers to give them to the world. it was therefore only a few, and those the most accessible, which were put in print. there was a class of manuscripts of this kind which were known, or rather suspected, to be both curious and valuable, but which it seemed almost hopeless to expect ever to see in fair printed english. these were the welsh popular tales called mabinogeon, a plural word, the singular being mabinogi, a tale. manuscripts of these were contained in the bodleian library at oxford and elsewhere, but the difficulty was to find translators and editors. the welsh is a spoken language among the peasantry of wales, but is entirely neglected by the learned, unless they are natives of the principality. of the few welsh scholars none were found who took sufficient interest in this branch of learning to give these productions to the english public. southey and scott, and others, who like them, loved the old romantic legends of their country, often urged upon the welsh literati the duty of reproducing the mabinogeon. southey, in the preface of his edition of "moted'arthur," says: "the specimens which i have seen are exceedingly curious; nor is there a greater desideratum in british literature than an edition of these tales, with a literal version, and such comments as mr. davies of all men is best qualified to give. certain it is that many of the round table fictions originated in wales, or in bretagne, and probably might still be traced there." again, in a letter to sir charles w. w. wynn, dated , he says: "i begin almost to despair of ever seeing more of the mabinogeon; and yet if some competent welshman could be found to edit it carefully, with as literal a version as possible, i am sure it might be made worth his while by a subscription, printing a small edition at a high price, perhaps two hundred at five guineas. i myself would gladly subscribe at that price per volume for such an edition of the whole of your genuine remains in prose and verse. till some such collection is made, the 'gentlemen of wales' ought to be prohibited from wearing a leek; ay, and interdicted from toasted cheese also. your bards would have met with better usage if they had been scotchmen." sharon turner and sir walter scott also expressed a similar wish for the publication of the welsh manuscripts. the former took part in an attempt to effect it, through the instrumentality of a mr. owen, a welshman, but, we judge, by what southey says of him, imperfectly acquainted with english. southey's language is "william owen lent me three parts of the mabinogeon, delightfully translated into so welsh an idiom and syntax that such a translation is as instructive as an original." in another letter he adds, "let sharon make his language grammatical, but not alter their idiom in the slightest point." it is probable mr. owen did not proceed far in an undertaking which, so executed, could expect but little popular patronage. it was not till an individual should appear possessed of the requisite knowledge of the two languages, of enthusiasm sufficient for the task, and of pecuniary resources sufficient to be independent of the booksellers and of the reading public, that such a work could be confidently expected. such an individual has, since southey's day and scott's, appeared in the person of lady charlotte guest, an english lady united to a gentleman of property in wales, who, having acquired the language of the principality, and become enthusiastically fond of its literary treasures, has given them to the english reader, in a dress which the printer's and the engraver's arts have done their best to adorn. in four royal octavo volumes containing the welsh originals, the translation, and ample illustrations from french, german, and other contemporary and affiliated literature, the mabinogeon is spread before us. to the antiquarian and the student of language and ethnology an invaluable treasure, it yet can hardly in such a form win its way to popular acquaintance. we claim no other merit than that of bringing it to the knowledge of our readers, of abridging its details, of selecting its most attractive portions, and of faithfully preserving throughout the style in which lady guest has clothed her legends. for this service we hope that our readers will confess we have laid them under no light obligation. chapter i the britons the earliest inhabitants of britain are supposed to have been a branch of that great family known in history by the designation of celts. cambria, which is a frequent name for wales, is thought to be derived from cymri, the name which the welsh traditions apply to an immigrant people who entered the island from the adjacent continent. this name is thought to be identical with those of cimmerians and cimbri, under which the greek and roman historians describe a barbarous people, who spread themselves from the north of the euxine over the whole of northwestern europe. the origin of the names wales and welsh has been much canvassed. some writers make them a derivation from gael or gaul, which names are said to signify "woodlanders;" others observe that walsh, in the northern languages, signifies a stranger, and that the aboriginal britons were so called by those who at a later era invaded the island and possessed the greater part of it, the saxons and angles. the romans held britain from the invasion of julius caesar till their voluntary withdrawal from the island, a.d. ,--that is, about five hundred years. in that time there must have been a wide diffusion of their arts and institutions among the natives. the remains of roads, cities, and fortifications show that they did much to develop and improve the country, while those of their villas and castles prove that many of the settlers possessed wealth and taste for the ornamental arts. yet the roman sway was sustained chiefly by force, and never extended over the entire island. the northern portion, now scotland, remained independent, and the western portion, constituting wales and cornwall, was only nominally subjected. neither did the later invading hordes succeed in subduing the remoter sections of the island. for ages after the arrival of the saxons under hengist and horsa, a.d. , the whole western coast of britain was possessed by the aboriginal inhabitants, engaged in constant warfare with the invaders. it has, therefore, been a favorite boast of the people of wales and cornwall that the original british stock flourishes in its unmixed purity only among them. we see this notion flashing out in poetry occasionally, as when gray, in "the bard," prophetically describing queen elizabeth, who was of the tudor, a welsh race, says: "her eye proclaims her of the briton line;" and, contrasting the princes of the tudor with those of the norman race, he exclaims: "all hail, ye genuine kings, britannia's issue, hail!" the welsh language and literature the welsh language is one of the oldest in europe. it possesses poems the origin of which is referred with probability to the sixth century. the language of some of these is so antiquated that the best scholars differ about the interpretation of many passages; but, generally speaking, the body of poetry which the welsh possess, from the year downwards, is intelligible to those who are acquainted with the modern language. till within the last half-century these compositions remained buried in the libraries of colleges or of individuals, and so difficult of access that no successful attempt was made to give them to the world. this reproach was removed after ineffectual appeals to the patriotism of the gentry of wales, by owen jones, a furrier of london, who at his own expense collected and published the chief productions of welsh literature, under the title of the myvyrian archaeology of wales. in this task he was assisted by dr. owen and other welsh scholars. after the cessation of jones' exertions the old apathy returned, and continued till within a few years. dr. owen exerted himself to obtain support for the publication of the mabinogeon or prose tales of the welsh, but died without accomplishing his purpose, which has since been carried into execution by lady charlotte guest. the legends which fill the remainder of this volume are taken from this work, of which we have already spoken more fully in the introductory chapter to the first part. the welsh bards the authors to whom the oldest welsh poems are attributed are aneurin, who is supposed to have lived a.d. to , and taliesin, llywarch hen (llywarch the aged), and myrddin or merlin, who were a few years later. the authenticity of the poems which bear their names has been assailed, and it is still an open question how many and which of them are authentic, though it is hardly to be doubted that some are so. the poem of aneurin entitled the "gododin" bears very strong marks of authenticity. aneurin was one of the northern britons of strath-clyde, who have left to that part of the district they inhabited the name of cumberland, or land of the cymri. in this poem he laments the defeat of his countrymen by the saxons at the battle of cattraeth, in consequence of having partaken too freely of the mead before joining in combat. the bard himself and two of his fellow-warriors were all who escaped from the field. a portion of this poem has been translated by gray, of which the following is an extract: "to cattraeth's vale, in glittering row, twice two hundred warriors go; every warrior's manly neck chains of regal honor deck, wreathed in many a golden link; from the golden cup they drink nectar that the bees produce, or the grape's exalted juice. flushed with mirth and hope they burn, but none to cattraeth's vale return, save aeron brave, and conan strong, bursting through the bloody throng, and i, the meanest of them all, that live to weep, and sing their fall." the works of taliesin are of much more questionable authenticity. there is a story of the adventures of taliesin so strongly marked with mythical traits as to cast suspicion on the writings attributed to him. this story will be found in the subsequent pages. the triads the triads are a peculiar species of poetical composition, of which the welsh bards have left numerous examples. they are enumerations of a triad of persons, or events, or observations, strung together in one short sentence. this form of composition, originally invented, in all likelihood, to assist the memory, has been raised by the welsh to a degree of elegance of which it hardly at first sight appears susceptible. the triads are of all ages, some of them probably as old as anything in the language. short as they are individually, the collection in the myvyrian archaeology occupies more than one hundred and seventy pages of double columns. we will give some specimens, beginning with personal triads, and giving the first place to one of king arthur's own composition: "i have three heroes in battle: mael the tall, and llyr, with his army, and caradoc, the pillar of wales." "the three principal bards of the island of britain:-- merlin ambrose merlin the son of mprfyn, called also merlin the wild, and taliesin, the chief of the bards." "the three golden-tongued knights of the court of arthur:-- gawain, son of gwyar, drydvas, son of tryphin, and ehwlod, son of madag, ap uther." "the three honorable feasts of the island of britain:-- the feast of caswallaun, after repelling julius caesar from this isle; the feast of aurelius ambrosius, after he had conquered the saxons; and the feast of king arthur, at carleon upon usk." "guenever, the daughter of laodegan the giant, bad when little, worse when great." next follow some moral triads: "hast thou heard what dremhidydd sung, an ancient watchman on the castle walls? a refusal is better than a promise unperformed." "hast thou heard what llenleawg sung, the noble chief wearing the golden torques? the grave is better than a life of want." "hast thou heard what garselit sung, the irishman whom it is safe to follow? sin is bad, if long pursued." "hast thou heard what avaon sung, the son of taliesin, of the recording verse? the cheek will not conceal the anguish of the heart." "didst thou hear what llywarch sung, the intrepid and brave old man? greet kindly, though there be no acquaintance." chapter ii the lady of the fountain kynon's adventure king arthur was at caerleon upon usk; and one day he sat in his chamber, and with him were owain, the son of urien, and kynon, the son of clydno, and kay, the son of kyner, and guenever and her handmaidens at needlework by the window. in the centre of the chamher king arthur sat, upon a seat of green rushes, [footnote: the use of green rushes in apartments was by no means peculiar to the court of carleon upon usk. our ancestors had a great predilection for them, and they seem to have constituted an essential article, not only of comfort, but of luxury. the custom of strewing the floor with rushes is well known to have existed in england during the middle ages, and also in france.] over which was spread a covering of flame-covered satin, and a cushion of red satin was under his elbow. then arthur spoke. "if i thought you would not disparage me," said he, "i would sleep while i wait for my repast; and you can entertain one another with relating tales, and can obtain a flagon of mead and some meat from kay." and the king went to sleep. and kynon the son of clydno asked kay for that which arthur had promised them. "i too will have the good tale which he promised me," said kay. "nay," answered kynon; "fairer will it be for thee to fulfil arthur's behest in the first place, and then we will tell thee the best tale that we know." so kay went to the kitchen and to the mead-cellar, and returned, bearing a flagon of mead, and a golden goblet, and a handful of skewers, upon which were broiled collops of meat. then they ate the collops, and began to drink the mead. "now," said kay, "it is time for you to give me my story." "kynon," said owain, "do thou pay to kay the tale that is his due." "i will do so," answered kynon. "i was the only son of my mother and father, and i was exceedingly aspiring, and my daring was very great. i thought there was no enterprise in the world too mighty for me: and after i had achieved all the adventures that were in my own country, i equipped myself, and set forth to journey through deserts and distant regions. and at length it chanced that i came to the fairest valley in the world, wherein were trees all of equal growth; and a river ran through the valley, and a path was by the side of the river. and i followed the path until midday, and continued my journey along the remainder of the valley until the evening; and at the extremity of the plain i came to a large and lustrous castle, at the foot of which was a torrent. and i approached the castle, and there i beheld two youths with yellow curling hair, each with a frontlet of gold upon his head, and clad in a garment of yellow satin; and they had gold clasps upon their insteps. in the hand of each of them was an ivory bow, strung with the sinews of the stag, and their arrows and their shafts were of the bone of the whale, and were winged with peacock's feathers. the shafts also had golden heads. and they had daggers with blades of gold, and with hilts of the bone of the whale. and they were shooting at a mark. "and a little away from them i saw a man in the prime of life, with his beard newly shorn, clad in a robe and mantle of yellow satin, and round the top of his mantle was a band of gold lace. on his feet were shoes of variegated leather, [footnote: cordwal is the word in the original, and from the manner in which it is used it is evidently intended for the french cordouan or cordovan leather, which derived its name from cordova, where it was manufactured. from this comes also our english word cordwainer.] fastened by two bosses of gold. when i saw him i went towards him and saluted him; and such was his courtesy, that he no sooner received my greeting than he returned it. and he went with me towards the castle. now there were no dwellers in the castle, except those who were in one hall. and there i saw four and twenty damsels, embroidering satin at a window. and this i tell thee, kay, that the least fair of them was fairer than the fairest maid thou didst ever behold in the island of britain; and the least lovely of them was more lovely than guenever, the wife of arthur, when she appeared loveliest, at the feast of easter. they rose up at my coming, and six of them took my horse, and divested me of my armor, and six others took my arms and washed them in a vessel till they were perfectly bright. and the third six spread cloths upon the tables and prepared meat. and the fourth six took off my soiled garments and placed others upon me, namely, an under vest and a doublet of fine linen, and a robe and a surcoat, and a mantle of yellow satin, with a broad gold band upon the mantle. and they placed cushions both beneath and around me, with coverings of red linen, and i sat down. now the six maidens who had taken my horse unharnessed him as well as if they had been the best squires in the island of britain. "then behold they brought bowls of silver, wherein was water to wash and towels of linen, some green and some white; and i washed. and in a little while the man sat down at the table. and i sat next to him, and below me sat all the maidens, except those who waited on us. and the table was of silver, and the cloths upon the table were of linen. and no vessel was served upon the table that was not either of gold or of silver or of buffalo horn. and our meat was brought to us. and verily, kay, i saw there every sort of meat, and every sort of liquor that i ever saw elsewhere; but the meat and the liquor were better served there than i ever saw them in any other place. "until the repast was half over, neither the man nor any one of the damsels spoke a single word to me; but when the man perceived that it would be more agreeable for me to converse than to eat any more, he began to inquire of me who i was. then i told the man who i was and what was the cause of my journey, and said that i was seeking whether any one was superior to me, or whether i could gain mastery over all. the man looked upon me, and he smiled and said, 'if i did not fear to do thee a mischief, i would show thee that which thou seekest.' then i desired him to speak freely. and he said: 'sleep here to-night, and in the morning arise early, and take the road upwards through the valley, until thou readiest the wood. a little way within the wood thou wilt come to a large sheltered glade, with a mound in the centre. and thou wilt see a black man of great stature on the top of the mound. he has but one foot, and one eye in the middle of his forehead. he is the wood- ward of that wood. and thou wilt see a thousand wild animals grazing around him. inquire of him the way out of the glade, and he will reply to thee briefly, and will point out the road by which thou shalt find that which thou art in quest of.' "and long seemed that night to me. and the next morning i arose and equipped myself, and mounted my horse, and proceeded straight through the valley to the wood, and at length i arrived at the glade. and the black man was there, sitting upon the top of the mound; and i was three times more astonished at the number of wild animals that i beheld than the man had said i should be. then i inquired of him the way and he asked me roughly whither i would go. and when i had told him who i was and what i sought, 'take,' said he, 'that path that leads toward the head of the glade, and there thou wilt find an open space like to a large valley, and in the midst of it a tall tree. under this tree is a fountain, and by the side of the fountain a marble slab, and on the marble slab a silver bowl, attached by a chain of silver, that it may not be carried away. take, the bowl and throw a bowlful of water on the slab. and if thou dost not find trouble in that adventure, thou needest not seek it during the rest of thy life.' "so i journeyed on until i reached the summit of the steep. and there i found everything as the black man had described it to me. and i went up to the tree, and beneath it i saw the fountain, and by its side the marble slab, and the silver bowl fastened by the chain. then i took the bowl, and cast a bowlful of water upon the slab, and immediately i heard a mighty peal of thunder, so that heaven and earth seemed to tremble with its fury. and after the thunder came a, shower; and of a truth i tell thee, kay, that it was such a shower as neither man nor beast could endure and live. i turned my horse's flank toward the shower, and placed the beak of my shield over his head and neck, while i held the upper part of it over my own neck. and thus i withstood the shower. and presently the sky became clear, and with that, behold, the birds lighted upon the tree, and sang. and truly, kay, i never heard any melody equal to that, either before or since. and when i was most charmed with listening to the birds, lo! a chiding voice was heard of one approaching me and saying: 'o knight, what has brought thee hither? what evil have i done to thee that thou shouldst act towards me and my possessions as thou hast this day? dost thou not know that the shower to-day has left in my dominions neither man nor beast alive that was exposed to it?' and thereupon, behold, a knight on a black horse appeared, clothed in jet-black velvet, and with a tabard of black linen about him. and we charged each other, and, as the onset was furious, it was not long before i was overthrown. then the knight passed the shaft of his lance through the bridle-rein of my horse, and rode off with the two horses, leaving me where i was. and he did not even bestow so much notice upon me as to imprison me, nor did he despoil me of my arms. so i returned along the road by which i had come. and when i reached the glade where the black man was, i confess to thee, kay, it is a marvel that i did not melt down into a liquid pool, through the shame that i felt at the black man's derision. and that night i came to the same castle where i had spent the night preceding. and i was more agreeably entertained that night than i had been the night before. and i conversed freely with the inmates of the castle; and none of them alluded to my expedition to the fountain, neither did i mention it to any. and i remained there that night. when i arose on the morrow i found ready saddled a dark bay palfrey, with nostrils as red as scarlet. and after putting on my armor, and leaving there my blessing, i returned to my own court. and that horse i still possess, and he is in the stable yonder. and i declare that i would not part with him for the best palfrey in the island of britain. "now, of a truth, kay, no man ever before confessed to an adventure so much to his own discredit; and verily it seems strange to me that neither before nor since have i heard of any person who knew of this adventure, and that the subject of it should exist within king arthur's dominions without any other person lighting upon it." chapter iii the lady of the fountain (continued) owain's adventure [footnote: amongst all the characters of early british history none is the more interesting, or occupies more conspicuous place, than the hero of this tale. urien, his father, was prince of rheged, a district comprising the present cumberland and part of the adjacent country. his valor, and the consideration in which he was held, are a frequent theme of bardic song, and form the subject of several very spirited odes by taliesin. among the triads there is one relating to him; it is thus translated: "three knights of battle were in court of arthur cadwr, the earl of cornwall, launcelot du lac, and owain, the son of urien. and this was their characteristic--that they would not retreat from battle, neither for spear, nor for arrow, nor for sword. and arthur never had shame in battle the day he saw their faces there. and they were called the knights of battle."] "now," quoth owain, "would it not be well to go and endeavor to discover that place?" "by the hand of my friend," said kay, "often dost thou utter that with thy tongue which thou wouldest not make good with thy deeds." "in very truth," said guenever, "it were better thou wert hanged, kay, than to use such uncourteous speech towards a man like owain." "by the hand of my friend, good lady," said kay, "thy praise of owain is not greater than mine." with that arthur awoke, and asked if he had not been sleeping a little. "yes, lord," answered owain, "thou hast slept awhile." "is it time for us to go to meat?" "it is, lord," said owain. then the horn for washing was sounded, and the king and all his household sat down to eat. and when the meal was ended owain withdrew to his lodging, and made ready his horse and his arms. on the morrow with the dawn of day he put on his armor, and mounted his charger, and travelled through distant lands, and over desert mountains. and at length he arrived at the valley which kynon had described to him, and he was certain that it was the same that he sought. and journeying along the valley, by the side of the river, he followed its course till he came to the plain, and within sight of the castle. when he approached the castle he saw the youths shooting with their bows, in the place where kynon had seen them, and the yellow man, to whom the castle belonged, standing hard by. and no sooner had owain saluted the yellow man, than he was saluted by him in return. and he went forward towards the castle, and there he saw the chamber; and when he had entered the chamber, he beheld the maidens working at satin embroidery, in chains of gold. and their beauty and their comeliness seemed to owain far greater than kynon had represented to him. and they arose to wait upon owain, as they had done to kynon. and the meal which they set before him gave even more satisfaction to owain than it had done to kynon. about the middle of the repast the yellow man asked owain the object of his journey. and owain made it known to him, and said, "i am in quest of the knight who guards the fountain." upon this the yellow man smiled, and said that he was as loth to point out that adventure to him as he had been to kynon. however, he described the whole to owain, and they retired to rest. the next morning owain found his horse made ready for him by the damsels, and he set forward and came to the glade where the black man was. and the stature of the black man seemed more wonderful to owain than it had done to kynon; and owain asked of him his road, and he showed it to him. and owain followed the road till he came to the green tree; and he beheld the fountain, and the slab beside the fountain, with the bowl upon it. and owain took the bowl and threw a bowlful of water upon the slab. and, lo! the thunder was heard, and after the thunder came the shower, more violent than kynon had described, and after the shower the sky became bright. and immediately the birds came and settled upon the tree and sang. and when their song was most pleasing to owain he beheld a knight coming towards him through the valley; and he prepared to receive him, and encountered him violently. having broken both their lances, they drew their swords and fought blade to blade. then owain struck the knight a blow through his helmet, head-piece, and visor, and through the skin, and the flesh, and the bone, until it wounded the very brain. then the black knight felt that he had received a mortal wound, upon which he turned his horse's head and fled. and owain pursued him and followed close upon him, although he was not near enough to strike him with his sword. then owain descried a vast and resplendent castle; and they came to the castle gate. and the black knight was allowed to enter, and the portcullis was let fall upon owain; and it struck his horse behind the saddle, and cut him in two, and carried away the rowels of the spurs that were upon owains' heels. and the portcullis descended to the floor. and the rowels of the spurs and part of the horse were without, and owain with the other part of the horse remained between the two gates, and the inner gate was closed, so that owain could not go thence; and owain was in a perplexing situation. and while he was in this state, he could see through an aperture in the gate a street facing him, with a row of houses on each side. and he beheld a maiden, with yellow, curling hair, and a frontlet of gold upon her head; and she was clad in a dress of yellow satin, and on her feet were shoes of variegated leather. and she approached the gate, and desired that it should be opened. "heaven knows, lady," said owain, "it is no more possible for me to open to thee from hence, than it is for thee to set me free." and he told her his name, and who he was. "truly," said the damsel, "it is very sad that thou canst not be released; and every woman ought to succor thee, for i know there is no one more faithful in the service of ladies than thou. therefore," quoth she, "whatever is in my power to do for thy release, i will do it. take this ring and put it on thy finger, with the stone inside thy hand, and close thy hand upon the stone. and as long as thou concealest it, it will conceal thee. when they come forth to fetch thee, they will be much grieved that they cannot find thee. and i will await thee on the horseblock yonder, and thou wilt be able to see me, though i cannot see thee. therefore come and place thy hand upon my shoulder, that i may know that thou art near me. and by the way that i go hence do thou accompany me." then the maiden went away from owain, and he did all that she had told him. and the people of the castle came to seek owain to put him to death; and when they found nothing but the half of his horse, they were sorely grieved. and owain vanished from among them, and went to the maiden, and placed his hand upon her shoulder; whereupon she set off, and owain followed her, until they came to the door of a large and beautiful chamber, and the maiden opened it, and they went in. and owain looked around the chamber, and behold there was not a single nail in it that was not painted with gorgeous colors, and there was not a single panel that had not sundry images in gold portrayed upon it. the maiden kindled a fire, and took water in a silver bowl, and gave owain water to wash. then she placed before him a silver table, inlaid with gold; upon which was a cloth of yellow linen, and she brought him food. and, of a truth, owain never saw any kind of meat that was not there in abundance, but it was better cooked there than he had ever found it in any other place. and there was not one vessel from which he was served that was not of gold or of silver. and owain eat and drank until late in the afternoon, when lo! they heard a mighty clamor in the castle, and owain asked the maiden what it was. "they are administering extreme unction," said she, "to the nobleman who owns the castle." and she prepared a couch for owain which was meet for arthur himself, and owain went to sleep. and a little after daybreak he heard an exceeding loud clamor and wailing, and he asked the maiden what was the cause of it. "they are bearing to the church the body of the nobleman who owned the castle." and owain rose up, and clothed himself, and opened a window of the chamber, and looked towards the castle; and he could see neither the bounds nor the extent of the hosts that filled the streets. and they were fully armed; and a vast number of women were with them, both on horseback and on foot, and all the ecclesiastics in the city singing. in the midst of the throng he beheld the bier, over which was a veil of white linen; and wax tapers were burning beside and around it; and none that supported the bier was lower in rank than a powerful baron. never did owain see an assemblage so gorgeous with silk [footnote: before the sixth century all the silk used by europeans had been brought to them by the seres, the ancestors of the present boukharians, whence it derived its latin name of serica. in the silkworm was brought by two monks to constantinople, but the manufacture of silk was confined to the greek empire till the year , when roger, king of sicily, returning from a crusade, collected some manufacturers from athens and corinth, and established them at palermo, whence the trade was gradually disseminated over italy. the varieties of silk stuffs known at this time were velvet, satin (which was called samite), and taffety (called cendal or sendall), all of which were occasionally stitched with gold and silver.] and satin. and, following the train, he beheld a lady with yellow hair falling over her shoulders, and stained with blood; and about her a dress of yellow satin, which was torn. upon her feet were shoes of variegated leather. and it was a marvel that the ends of her fingers were not bruised from the violence with which she smote her hands together. truly she would have been the fairest lady owain ever saw, had she been in her usual guise. and her cry was louder than the shout of the men or the clamor of the trumpets. no sooner had he beheld the lady than he became inflamed with her love, so that it took entire possession of him. then he inquired of the maiden who the lady was. "heaven knows," replied the maiden, "she is the fairest and the most chaste, and the most liberal, and the most noble of women. she is my mistress, and she is called the countess of the fountain, the wife of him whom thou didst slay yesterday." "verily," said owain, "she is the woman that i love best." "verily," said the maiden, "she shall also love thee, not a little." then the maiden prepared a repast for owain, and truly he thought he had never before so good a meal, nor was he ever so well served. then she left him, and went towards the castle. when she came there, she found nothing but mourning and sorrow; and the countess in her chamber could not bear the sight of any one through grief. luned, for that was the name of the maiden, saluted her, but the countess answered her not. and the maiden bent down towards her, and said, "what aileth thee, that thou answereth no one to-day?" "luned," said the countess, "what change hath befallen thee, that thou hast not come to visit me in my grief. it was wrong in thee, and i so sorely afflicted." "truly," said luned, "i thought thy good sense was greater than i find it to be. is it well for thee to mourn after that good man, or for anything else that thou canst not have?" "i declare to heaven," said the countess, "that in the whole world there is not a man equal to him." "not so," said luned, "for an ugly man would be as good as or better than he." "i declare to heaven," said the countess, "that were it not repugnant to me to put to death one whom i have brought up, i would have thee executed for making such a comparison to me. as it is, i will banish thee." "i am glad," said luned, "that thou hast no other cause to do so than that i would have been of service to thee, where thou didst not know what was to thine advantage. henceforth, evil betide whichever of us shall make the first advance towards reconciliation to the other, whether i should seek an invitation from thee, or thou of thine own accord should send to invite." with that luned went forth; and the countess arose and followed her to the door of the chamber, and began coughing loudly. and when luned looked back, the countess beckoned to her, and she returned to the countess. "in truth," said the countess, "evil is thy disposition; but if thou knowest what is to my advantage, declare it to me." "i will do so," said she. "thou knowest that, except by warfare and arms, it is impossible for thee to preserve thy possessions; delay not, therefore, to seek some one who can defend them." "and how can i do that?" said the countess. "i will tell thee," said luned; "unless thou canst defend the fountain, thou canst not maintain thy dominions; and no one can defend the fountain except it be a knight of arthur's household. i will go to arthur's court, and ill betide me if i return not thence with a warrior who can guard the fountain as well as, or even better than, he who defended it formerly." "that will be hard to perform," said the countess. "go, however, and make proof of that which thou hast promised," luned set out under the pretence of going to arthur's court; but she went back to the mansion where she had left owain, and she tarried there as long as it might have taken her to travel to the court of king arthur and back. and at the end of that time she apparelled herself, and went to visit the countess. and the countess was much rejoiced when she saw her, and inquired what news she brought from the court. "i bring thee the best of news," said luned, "for i have compassed the object of my mission. when wilt thou that i should present to thee the chieftain who has come with me hither?" "bring him here to visit me to-morrow," said the countess, "and i will cause the town to be assembled by that time." and luned returned home. and the next day at noon, owain arrayed himself in a coat and a surcoat, and a mantle of yellow satin, upon which was a broad band of gold lace; and on his feet were high shoes of variegated leather, which were fastened by golden clasps, in the form of lions. and they proceeded to the chamber of the countess. right glad was the countess of their coming. and she gazed steadfastly upon owain, and said, "luned, this knight has not the look of a traveller." "what harm is there in that, lady?" said luned. "i am certain," said the countess, "that no other man than this chased the soul from the body of my lord." "so much the better for thee, lady," said luned, "for had he not been stronger than thy lord, he could not have deprived him of life. there is no remedy for that which is past, be it as it may." "go back to thine abode," said the countess, "and i will take counsel." the next day the countess caused all her subjects to assemble, and showed them that her earldom was left defenceless, and that it could not be protected but with horse and arms, and military skill. "therefore," said she, "this is what i offer for your choice: either let one of you take me, or give your consent for me to take a husband from elsewhere, to defend my dominions." so they came to the determination that it was better that she should have permission to marry some one from elsewhere; and thereupon she sent for the bishops and archbishops, to celebrate her nuptials with owain. and the men of the earldom did owain homage. and owain defended the fountain with lance and sword. and this is the manner in which he defended it. whensoever a knight came there, he overthrew him, and sold him for his full worth. and what he thus gained he divided among his barons and his knights, and no man in the whole world could be more beloved than he was by his subjects. and it was thus for the space of three years. [footnote: there exists an ancient poem, printed among those of taliesin, called the "elegy of owain ap urien," and containing several very beautiful and spirited passages it commences "the soul of owain ap urien, may its lord consider its exigencies' reged's chief the green turf covers." in the course of this elegy the bard, alluding to the incessant warfare with which this chieftain harassed his saxon foes, exclaims, "could england sleep with the light upon her eyes'"] chapter iv the lady of the fountain (continued) gawain's adventure it befell that, as gawain went forth one day with king arthur, he perceived him to be very sad and sorrowful. and gawain was much grieved to see arthur in his state, and he questioned him, saying, "o my lord, what has befallen thee?" "in sooth, gawain," said arthur, "i am grieved concerning owain, whom i have lost these three years; and i shall certainly die if the fourth year pass without my seeing him. now i am sure that it is through the tale which kynon, the son of clydno, related, that i have lost owain." "there is no need for thee," said gawain, "to summon to arms thy whole dominions on this account, for thou thyself, and the men of thy household, will be able to avenge owain if he be slain or to set him free if he be in prison; and, if alive, to bring him back with thee." and it was settled according to what gawain had said. then arthur and the men of his household prepared to go and seek owain. and kynon, the son of clydno, acted as their guide. and arthur came to the castle where kynon had been before. and when he came there, the youths were shooting in the same place, and the yellow man was standing hard by. when the yellow man saw arthur, he greeted him, and invited him to the castle. and arthur accepted his invitation, and they entered the castle together. and great as was the number of his retinue, their presence was scarcely observed in the castle, so vast was its extent. and the maidens rose up to wait on them. and the service of the maidens appeared to them all to excel any attendance they had ever met with; and even the pages, who had charge of the horses, were no worse served that night than arthur himself would have been in his own palace. the next morning arthur set out thence, with kynon for his guide, and came to the place where the black man was. and the stature of the black man was more surprising to arthur than it had been represented to him. and they came to the top of the wooded steep, and traversed the valley, till they reached the green tree, where they saw the fountain and the bowl and the slab. and upon that kay came to arthur, and spoke to him. "my lord," said he, "i know the meaning of all this, and my request is that thou wilt permit me to throw the water on the slab, and to receive the first adventure that may befall." and arthur gave him leave. then kay threw a bowlful of water upon the slab, and immediately there came the thunder, and after the thunder the shower. and such a thunder-storm they had never known before. after the shower had ceased, the sky became clear, and on looking at the tree, they beheld it completely leafless. then the birds descended upon the tree. and the song of the birds was far sweeter than any strain they had ever heard before. then they beheld a knight, on a coal- black horse, clothed in black satin, coming rapidly towards them. and kay met him and encountered him, and it was not long before kay was overthrown. and the knight withdrew. and arthur and his host encamped for the night. and when they arose in the morning, they perceived the signal of combat upon the lance of the knight. then, one by one, all the household of arthur went forth to combat the knight, until there was not one that was not overthrown by him, except arthur and gawain. and arthur armed himself to encounter the knight. "o my lord," said gawain, "permit me to fight with him first." and arthur permitted him. and he went forth to meet the knight, having over himself and his horse a satin robe of honor, which had been sent him by the daughter of the earl of rhangyr, and in this dress he was not known by any of the host. and they charged each other, and fought all that day until the evening. and neither of them was able to unhorse the other. and so it was the next day; they broke their lances in the shock, but neither of them could obtain the mastery. and the third day they fought with exceeding strong lances. and they were incensed with rage, and fought furiously, even until noon. and they gave each other such a shock that the girths of their horses were broken, so that they fell over their horses' cruppers to the ground. and they rose up speedily and drew their swords, and resumed the combat. and all they that witnessed their encounter felt assured that they had never before seen two men so valiant or so powerful. and had it been midnight, it would have been light, from the fire that flashed from their weapons. and the knight gave gawain a blow that turned his helmet from off his face, so that the knight saw that it was gawain. then owain said, "my lord gawain, i did not know thee for my cousin, owing to the robe of honor that enveloped thee; take my sword and my arms." said gawain, "thou, owain, art the victor; take thou my sword." and with that arthur saw that they were conversing, and advanced toward them. "my lord arthur," said gawain, "here is owain who has vanquished me, and will not take my arms." "my lord," said owain, "it is he that has vanquished me, and he will not take my sword." "give me your swords," said arthur, "and then neither of you has vanquished the other." then owain put his arms around arthur's neck, and they embraced. and all the host hurried forward to see owain, and to embrace him. and there was nigh being a loss of life, so great was the press. and they retired that night, and the next day arthur prepared to depart. "my lord," said owain, "this is not well of thee. for i have been absent from thee these three years, and during all that time, up to this very day, i have been preparing a banquet for thee, knowing that thou wouldst come to seek me. tarry with me, therefore, until thou and thy attendants have recovered the fatigues of the journey, and have been anointed." and they all proceeded to the castle of the countess of the fountain, and the banquet which had been three years preparing was consumed in three months. never had they a more delicious or agreeable banquet. and arthur prepared to depart. then he sent an embassy to the countess to beseech her to permit owain to go with him, for the space of three months, that he might show him to the nobles and the fair dames of the island of britain. and the countess gave her consent, although it was very painful to her. so owain came with arthur to the island of britain. and when he was once more amongst his kindred and friends, he remained three years, instead of three months, with them. the adventure of the lion and as owain one day sat at meat, in the city of caerleon upon usk, behold a damsel entered the hall, upon a bay horse, with a curling mane, and covered with foam; and the bridle, and as much as was seen of the saddle, were of gold. and the damsel was arrayed in a dress of yellow satin. and she came up to owain, and took the ring from off his hand. "thus," said she, "shall be treated the deceiver, the traitor, the faithless, the disgraced, and the beardless." and she turned her horse's head and departed. [footnote: the custom of riding into a hall while the lord and his guests sat at meat might be illustrated by numerous passages of ancient romance and history. but a quotation from chaucer's beautiful and half-told tale of "cambuscan" is sufficient: "and so befell that after the thridde cours, while that this king sat thus in his nobley, herking his minstralles thir thinges play, beforne him at his bord deliciously, in at the halle door all sodenly ther came a knight upon a stede of bras, and in his hond a brod mirrour of glas; upon his thombe he had of gold a ring, and by his side a naked sword hanging; and up he rideth to the highe bord. in all the halle ne was ther spoke a word, for meryaille of this knight; him to behold full besily they waiten, young and old."] then his adventure came to owain's remembrance, and he was sorrowful. and having finished eating, he went to his own abode, and made preparations that night. and the next day he arose, but did not go to the court, nor did he return to the countess of the fountain, but wandered to the distant parts of the earth and to uncultivated mountains. and he remained there until all his apparel was worn out, and his body was wasted away, and his hair was grown long. and he went about with the wild beasts, and fed with them, until they became familiar with him. but at length he became so weak that he could no longer bear them company. then he descended from the mountains to the valley, and came to a park, that was the fairest in the world, and belonged to a charitable lady. one day the lady and her attendants went forth to walk by a lake that was in the middle of the park. and they saw the form of a man, lying as if dead. and they were terrified. nevertheless they went near him, and touched him, and they saw that there was life in him. and the lady returned to the castle, and took a flask full of precious ointment and gave it to one of her maidens. "go with this," said she, "and take with thee yonder horse, and clothing, and place them near the man we saw just now; and anoint him with this balsam near his heart; and if there is life in him, he will revive, through the efficiency of this balsam. then watch what he will do." and the maiden departed from her, and went and poured of the balsam upon owain, and left the horse and the garments hard by, and went a little way off and hid herself to watch him. in a short time, she saw him begin to move; and he rose up, and looked at his person, and became ashamed of the unseemliness of his appearance. then he perceived the horse and the garments that were near him. and he clothed himself, and with difficulty mounted the horse. then the damsel discovered herself to him, and saluted him. and he and the maiden proceeded to the castle, and the maiden conducted him to a pleasant chamber, and kindled a fire, and left him. and he stayed at the castle three months, till he was restored to his former guise, and became even more comely than he had ever been before. and owain rendered signal service to the lady, in a controversy with a powerful neighbor, so that he made ample requital to her for her hospitality; and he took his departure. and as he journeyed he heard a loud yelling in a wood. and it was repeated a second and a third time. and owain went towards the spot, and beheld a huge craggy mound, in the middle of the wood, on the side of which was a gray rock. and there was a cleft in the rock, and a serpent was within the cleft. and near the rock stood a black lion, and every time the lion sought to go thence the serpent darted towards him to attack him. and owain unsheathed his sword, and drew near to the rock; and as the serpent sprung out he struck him with his sword and cut him in two. and he dried his sword, and went on his way as before. but behold the lion followed him, and played about him, as though it had been a greyhound that he had reared. they proceeded thus throughout the day, until the evening. and when it was time for owain to take his rest he dismounted, and turned his horse loose in a flat and wooded meadow. and he struck fire, and when the fire was kindled, the lion brought him fuel enough to last for three nights. and the lion disappeared. and presently the lion returned, bearing a fine large roebuck. and he threw it down before owain, who went towards the fire with it. and owain took the roebuck, and skinned it, and placed collops of its flesh upon skewers round the fire. the rest of the buck he gave to the lion to devour. while he was so employed, he heard a deep groan near him, and a second, and a third. and the place whence the groans proceeded was a cave in the rock; and owain went near, and called out to know who it was that groaned so piteously. and a voice answered, "i am luned, the hand-maiden of the countess of the fountain." "and what dost thou here?" said he. "i am imprisoned," said she, "on account of the knight who came from arthur's court, and married the countess. and he staid a short time with her, but he afterwards departed for the court of arthur, and has not returned since. and two of the countess's pages traduced him, and called him a deceiver. and because i said i would vouch for it he would come before long and maintain his cause against both of them, they imprisoned me in this cave, and said that i should be put to death, unless he came to deliver me, by a certain day; and that is no further off than to-morrow, and i have no one to send to seek him for me. his name is owain, the son of urien." "and art thou certain that if that knight knew all this, he would come to thy rescue?" "i am most certain of it," said she. when the collops were cooked, owain divided them into two parts, between himself and the maiden, and then owain laid himself down to sleep; and never did sentinel keep stricter watch over his lord than the lion that night over owain. and the next day there came the two pages with a great troop of attendants to take luned from her cell, and put her to death. and owain asked them what charge they had against her. and they told him of the compact that was between them; as the maiden had done the night before. "and," said they, "owain has failed her, therefore we are taking her to be burnt." "truly," said owain, "he is a good knight; and if he knew that the maiden was in such peril, i marvel that he came not to her rescue. but if you will accept me in his stead, i will do battle with you." "we will," said the youth. and they attacked owain, and he was hard beset by them. and with that, the lion came to owain's assistance, and they two got the better of the young men and they said to him, "chieftain, it was not agreed that we should fight save with thyself alone, and it is harder for us to contend with yonder animal than with thee." and owain put the lion in the place where luned had been imprisoned, and blocked up the door with stones. and he went to fight with the young men as before. but owain had not his usual strength, and the two youths pressed hard upon him. and the lion roared incessantly at seeing owain in trouble. and he brust through the wall, until he found a way out, and rushed upon the young men and instantly slew them. so luned was saved from being burned. then owain returned with luned to the castle of the lady of the fountain. and when he went thence, he took the countess with him to arthur's court, and she was his wife as long as she lived. chapter v geraint, the son of erbin arthur was accustomed to hold his court at caerleon upon usk. and there he held it seven easters and five christmases. and once upon a time he held his court there at whitsuntide. for caerleon was the place most easy of access in his dominions, both by sea and by land. and there were assembled nine crowned kings, who were his tributaries, and likewise earls and barons. for they were his invited guests at all the high festivals, unless they were prevented by any great hinderatice. and when he was at caerleon holding his court, thirteen churches were set apart for mass. and thus they were appointed: one church for arthur and his kings, and his guests; and the second for guenever and her ladies; and the third for the steward of the household and the suitors; and the fourth for the franks and the other officers; and the other nine churches were for the nine masters of the household, and chiefly for gawain, for he, from the eminence of his warlike fame, and from the nobleness of his birth, was the most exalted of the nine. and there was no other arrangement respecting the churches than that which we have here mentioned. and on whit-tuesday, as the king sat at the banquet, lo, there entered a tall, fair-headed youth, clad in a coat and surcoat of satin, and a golden-hilted sword about his neck, and low shoes of leather upon his feet. and he came and stood before arthur. "hail to thee, lord," said he. "heaven prosper thee," he answered, "and be thou welcome. dost thou bring any new tidings?" "i do, lord," he said. "i am one of thy foresters, lord, in the forest of dean, and my name is madoc, son of turgadarn. in the forest i saw a stag, the like of which beheld i never yet." "what is there about him," asked arthur, "that thou never yet didst see his like?" "he is of pure white, lord, and he does not herd with any other animal, through stateliness and pride, so royal is his bearing. and i come to seek thy counsel, lord, and to know thy will concerning him." "it seems best to me," said arthur, "to go and hunt him to-morrow at break of day, and to cause general notice thereof to be given to-night, in all quarters of the court." "for arthur on the whitsuntide before held court at old caerleon upon usk. there on a day, he sitting high in hall, before him came a forester of dean, wet from the woods, with notice of a hart taller than all his fellows, milky-white, first seen that day: these things he told the king. then the good king gave order to let blow his horns for hunting on the morrow morn." --enid. and arryfuerys was arthur's chief huntsman, and arelivri his chief page. and all received notice; and thus it was arranged. then guenever said to arthur, "wilt thou permit me, lord, to go to-morrow to see and hear the hunt of the stag of which the young man spoke?" "i will gladly," said arthur. and gawain said to arthur, "lord, if it seem well to thee, permit that into whose hunt soever the stag shall come, that one, be he a knight or one on foot, may cut off his head, and give it to whom he pleases, whether to his own lady-love, or to the lady of his friend." "i grant it gladly," said arthur, "and let the steward of the household be chastised, if all things are not ready to-morrow for the chase." and they passed the night with songs, and diversions, and discourse, and ample entertainment. and when it was time for them all to go to sleep, they went. and when the next day came, they arose. and arthur called the attendants who guarded his couch. and there were four pages whose names were cadyrnerth, the son of gandwy, and ambreu, the son of bedwor and amhar, the son of arthur and goreu, the son of custennin. and these men came to arthur and saluted him, and arrayed him in his garments. and arthur wondered that guenever did not awake, and the attendants wished to awaken her. "disturb her not," said arthur, "for she had rather sleep than go to see the hunting." then arthur went forth, and he heard two horns sounding, one from near the lodging of the chief huntsman, and the other from near that of the chief page. and the whole assembly of the multitudes came to arthur, and they took the road to the forest. and after arthur had gone forth from the palace, guenever awoke, and called to her maidens, and apparalled herself. "maidens," said she, "i had leave last night to go and see the hunt. go one of you to the stable, and order hither a horse such as a woman may ride." and one of them went, and she found but two horses in the stable; and guenever and one of her maidens mounted them, and went through the usk, and followed the track of the men and the horses. and as they rode thus, they heard a loud and rushing sound; and they looked behind them, and beheld a knight upon a hunter foal of mighty size. and the rider was a fairhaired youth, bare-legged, and of princely mien; and a golden-hilted sword was at his side, and a robe and a surcoat of satin were upon him, and two low shoes of leather upon his feet; and around him was a scarf of blue purple, at each corner of which was a golden apple. "for prince geraint, late also, wearing neither hunting-dress nor weapon, save a golden-hilted brand, came quickly flashing through the shallow ford." --enid. and his horse stepped stately, and swift, and proud; and he overtook guenever, and saluted her. "heaven prosper thee, geraint," said she; "and why didst thou not go with thy lord to hunt?" "because i knew not when he went," said he. "i marvel too," said she, "how he could go, unknown to me. but thou, o young man, art the most agreeable companion i could have in the whole kingdom; and it may be i shall be more amused with the hunting than they; for we shall hear the horns when they sound and we shall hear the dogs when they are let loose and begin to cry." so they went to the edge of the forest, and there they stood. "from this place," said she, "we shall hear when the dogs are let loose." and thereupon they heard a loud noise; and they looked towards the spot whence it came, and they beheld a dwarf riding upon a horse, stately and foaming and prancing and strong and spirited. and in the hand of the dwarf was a whip. and near the dwarf they saw a lady upon a beautiful white horse, of steady and stately pace; and she was clothed in a garment of gold brocade. and near her was a knight upon a war-horse of large size, with heavy and bright armor both upon himself and upon his horse. and truly they never before saw a knight, or a horse, or armor, of such remarkable size. "geraint," said guenever, "knowest thou the name of that tall knight yonder?" "i know him not," said he, "and the strange armor that he wears prevents my either seeing his face or his features." "go, maiden," said guenever, "and ask the dwarf who that knight is." then the maiden went up to the dwarf; and she inquired of the dwarf who the knight was. "i will not tell thee," he answered. "since thou art so churlish," said she, "i will ask him, himself." "thou shalt not ask him, by my faith," said he. "wherefore not?" said she. "because thou art not of honor sufficient to befit thee to speak to my lord." then the maiden turned her horse's head towards the knight, upon which the dwarf struck her with the whip that was in his hand across the face and the eyes, so that the blood flowed forth. and the maiden returned to guenever, complaining of the hurt she had received. "very rudely has the dwarf treated thee," said geraint, and he put his hand upon the hilt of his sword. but he took counsel with himself, and considered that it would be no vengeance for him to slay the dwarf, and to be attacked unarmed by the armed knight; so he refrained. "lady," said he, "i will follow him, with thy permission, and at last he will come to some inhabited place, where i may have arms, either as a loan or for a pledge, so that i may encounter the knight." "go," said she, "and do not attack him until thou hast good arms; and i shall be very anxious concerning thee, until i hear tidings of thee." "if i am alive," said he, "thou shalt hear tidings of me by to-morrow afternoon;" and with that he departed. and the road they took was below the palace of caerleon, and across the ford of the usk; and they went along a fair and even and lofty ridge of ground, until they came to a town, and at the extremity of the town they saw a fortress and a castle. and as the knight passed through the town all the people arose and saluted him, and bade him welcome. and when geraint came into the town, he looked at every house to see if he knew any of those whom he saw. but he knew none, and none knew him, to do him the kindness to let him have arms, either as a loan or for a pledge. and every house he saw was full of men, and arms, and horses. and they were polishing shields, and burnishing swords, and washing armor, and shoeing horses. and the knight and the lady and the dwarf rode up to the castle, that was in the town, and every one was glad in the castle. and from the battlements and the gates they risked their necks, through their eagerness to greet them, and to show their joy. geraint stood there to see whether the knight would remain in the castle; and when he was certain that he would do so, he looked around him. and at a little distance from the town he saw an old palace in ruins, wherein was a hall that was falling to decay. "and high above a piece of turret-stair, worn by the feet that now were silent, wound bare to the sun" --enid. and as he knew not any one in the town, he went towards the old palace. and when he came near to the palace, he saw a hoary-headed man, standing by it, in tattered garments. and geraint gazed steadfastly upon him. then the hoary-headed man said to him, "young man, wherefore art thou thoughtful?" "i am thoughtful," said he, "because i know not where to pass the night." "wilt thou come forward this way, chieftain," said he, "and thou shalt have of the best that can be procured for thee." so geraint went forward. and the hoary-headed man led the way into the hall. and in the hall he dismounted, and he left there his horse. then he went on to the upper chamber with the hoary-headed man. and in the chamber he beheld an old woman, sitting on a cushion, with old, worn-out garments upon her; yet it seemed to him that she must have been comely when in the bloom of youth. and beside her was a maiden, upon whom were a vest and a veil that were old and beginning to be worn out. and truly he never saw a maiden more full of comeliness and grace and beauty than she. and the hoary- headed man said to the maiden, "there is no attendant for the horse of this youth but thyself." "i will render the best service i am able," said she, "both to him and to his horse." and the maiden disarrayed the youth, and then she furnished his horse with straw and corn; and then she returned to the chamber. and the hoary-headed man said to the maiden, "go to the town and bring hither the best that thou canst find, both of food and of liquor." "i will gladly, lord," said she. and to the town went the maiden. and they conversed together while the maiden was at the town. and, behold, the maiden came back, and a youth with her, bearing on his back a costrel full of good purchased mead, and a quarter of a young bullock. and in the hands of the maiden was a quantity of white bread, and she had some manchet bread in her veil, and she came into the chamber. "i would not obtain better than this," said she, "nor with better should i have been trusted." "it is good enough," said geraint. and they caused the meat to be boiled; and when their food was ready, they sat down. and it was in this wise. geraint sat between the hoary-headed man and his wife, and the maiden served them. and they ate and drank. and when they had finished eating, geraint talked with the hoary- headed man, and he asked him in the first place to whom belonged the palace that he was in. "truly," said he, "it was i that built it, and to me also belonged the city and the castle which thou sawest." "alas!" said geraint, "how is it that thou hast lost them now?" "i lost a great earldom as well as these," said he, "and this is how i lost them. i had a nephew, the son of my brother, and i took care of his possessions; but he was impatient to enter upon them, so he made war upon me, and wrested from me not only his own, but also my estates, except this castle." "good sir," said geraint, "wilt thou tell me wherefore came the knight and the lady and the dwarf just now into the town, and what is the preparation which i saw, and the putting of arms in order?" "i will do so," said he. "the preparations are for the game that is to be held to-morrow by the young earl, which will be on this wise. in the midst of a meadow which is here, two forks will be set up, and upon the two forks a silver rod, and upon the silver rod a sparrow-hawk, and for the sparrow-hawk there will be a tournament. and to the tournament will go all the array thou didst see in the city, of men and of horses and of arms. and with each man will go the lady he loves best; and no man can joust for the sparrow-hawk, except the lady he loves best be with him. and the knight that thou sawest has gained the sparrow-hawk these two years; and if he gains it the third year, he will be called the knight of the sparrow-hawk from that time forth." "sir," said geraint, "what is thy counsel to me concerning this knight, on account of the insult which the maiden of guenever received from the dwarf?" and geraint told the hoary-headed man what the insult was that the maiden had received. "it is not easy to counsel thee, inasmuch as thou hast neither dame nor maiden belonging to thee, for whom thou canst joust. yet i have arms here, which thou couldst have, and there is my horse also, if he seem to thee better than thine own." "ah, sir," said he, "heaven reward thee! but my own horse to which i am accustomed, together with thine arms, will suffice me. and if, when the appointed time shall come to-morrow thou wilt permit me, sir, to challenge for yonder maiden that is thy daughter, i will engage, if i escape from the tournament, to love the maiden as long as i live." "gladly will i permit thee," said the hoary-headed man; "and since thou dost thus resolve, it is necessary that thy horse and arms should be ready to-morrow at break of day. for then the knight of the sparrow-hawk will make proclamation, and ask the lady he loves best to take the sparrow-hawk; and if any deny it to her, by force will he defend her claim. and therefore," said the hoary-headed man, "it is needful for thee to be there at daybreak, and we three will be with thee." and thus was it settled. and at night they went to sleep. and before the dawn they arose and arrayed themselves; and by the time that it was day, they were all four in the meadow. and there was the knight of the sparrow- hawk making the proclamation, and asking his lady-love to take the sparrow-hawk. "take it not," said geraint, "for here is a maiden who is fairer, and more noble, and more comely, and who has a better claim to it than thou." then said the knight, "if thou maintainest the sparrow-hawk to be due to her, come forward and do battle with me." and geraint went forward to the top of the meadow, having upon himself and upon his horse armor which was heavy and rusty, and of uncouth shape. then they encountered each other, and they broke a set of lances; and they broke a second set, and a third. and when the earl and his company saw the knight of the sparrow-hawk gaining the mastery, there was shouting and joy and mirth amongst them; and the hoary-headed man and his wife and his daughter were sorrowful. and the hoary-headed man served geraint with lances as often as he broke them, and the dwarf served the knight of the sparrow-hawk. then the hoary-headed man said to geraint, "o chieftain, since no other will hold with thee, behold, here is the lance which was in my hand on the day when i received the honor of knighthood, and from that time to this i never broke it, and it has an excellent point." then geraint took the lance, thanking the hoary-headed man. and thereupon the dwarf also brought a lance to his lord. "behold, here is a lance for thee, not less good than his," said the dwarf. "and bethink thee that no knight ever withstood thee so long as this one has done." "i declare to heaven," said geraint, "that unless death takes me quickly hence, he shall fare never the better for thy service." and geraint pricked his horse towards him from afar, and, warning him, he rushed upon him, and gave him a blow so severe, and furious, and fierce, upon the face of his shield, that he cleft it in two, and broke his armor, and burst his girths, so that both he and his saddle were borne to the ground over the horse's crupper. and geraint dismounted quickly. and he was wroth, and he drew his sword, and rushed fiercely upon him. then the knight also arose, and drew his sword against geraint. and they fought on foot with their swords until their arms struck sparks of fire like stars from one another; and thus they continued fighting until the blood and sweat obscured the light from their eyes. at length geraint called to him all his strength, and struck the knight upon the crown of his head, so that he broke all his head-armor, and cut through all the flesh and the skin, even to the skull, until he wounded the bone. then the knight fell upon his knees, and cast his sword from his hand, and besought mercy from geraint. "of a truth," said he, "i relinquish my overdaring and my pride, and crave thy mercy; and unless i have time to commit myself to heaven for my sins, and to talk with a priest, thy mercy will avail me little." "i will grant thee grace upon this condition," said geraint, "that thou go to guenever, the wife of arthur, to do her satisfaction for the insult which her maiden received from thy dwarf. dismount not from the time thou goest hence until thou comest into the presence of guenever, to make her what atonement shall be adjudged at the court of arthur." "this will i do gladly; and who art thou?" "i am geraint, the son of erbin; and declare thou also who thou art." "i am edeym, the son of nudd." then he threw himself upon his horse, and went forward to arthur's court; and the lady he loved best went before him, and the dwarf, with much lamentation. then came the young earl and his hosts to geraint, and saluted him, and bade him to his castle. "i may not go," said geraint; "but where i was last night, there will i be to-night also." "since thou wilt none of my inviting, thou shalt have abundance of all that i can command for thee; and i will order ointment for thee, to recover thee from thy fatigues, and from the weariness that is upon thee." "heaven reward thee," said geraint, "and i will go to my lodging." and thus went geraint and earl ynywl, and his wife and his daughter. and when they reached the old mansion, the household servants and attendants of the young earl had arrived, and had arranged all the apartments, dressing them with straw and with fire; and in a short time the ointment was ready, and geraint came there, and they washed his head. then came the young earl, with forty honorable knights from among his attendants, and those who were bidden to the tournament. and geraint came from the anointing. and the earl asked him to go to the hall to eat. "where is the earl ynywl," said geraint, "and his wife and his daughter?" "they are in the chamber yonder," said the earl's chamberlain, "arraying themselves in garments which the earl has caused to be brought for them." "let not the damsel array herself," said he, "except in her vest and her veil, until she come to the court of arthur, to be clad by guenever in such garments as she may choose." so the maiden did not array herself. then they all entered the hall, and they washed, and sat down to meat. and thus were they seated. on one side of geraint sat the young earl, and earl ynywl beyond him, and on the other side of geraint was the maiden and her mother. and after these all sat according to their precedence in honor. and they ate. and they were served abundantly, and they received a profusion of divers kinds of gifts. then they conversed together. and the young earl invited geraint to visit him next day. "i will not, by heaven," said geraint. "to the court of arthur will i go with this maiden to-morrow. and it is enough for me, as long as earl ynywl is in poverty and trouble; and i go chiefly to seek to add to his maintenance." "ah, chieftain," said the young earl, "it is not by my fault that earl ynywl is without his possessions." "by my faith," said geraint, "he shall not remain without them, unless death quickly takes me hence." "o chieftain," said he, "with regard to the disagreement between me and ynywl, i will gladly abide by thy counsel, and agree to what thou mayest judge right between us." "i but ask thee," said geraint, "to restore to him what is his, and what he should have received from the time he lost his possessions even until this day." "that will i do, gladly, for thee," answered he. "then," said geraint, "whosoever is here who owes homage to ynywl, let him come forward, and perform it on the spot." and all the men did so; and by that treaty they abided. and his castle and his town, and all his possessions, were restored to ynywl. and he received back all that he had lost, even to the smallest jewel. then spoke earl ynywl to geraint. "chieftain," said he, "behold the maiden for whom thou didst challenge at the tournament; i bestow her upon thee." "she shall go with me," said geraint, "to the court of arthur, and arthur and guenever, they shall dispose of her as they will." and the next day they proceeded to arthur's court. so far concerning geraint. chapter vi geraint, the son of erbin (continued) now this is how arthur hunted the stag. the men and the dogs were divided into hunting-parties, and the dogs were let loose upon the stag. and the last dog that was let loose was the favorite dog of arthur; cavall was his name. and he left all the other dogs behind him and turned the stag. and at the second turn the stag came toward the hunting-party of arthur. and arthur set upon him; and before he could be slain by any other, arthur cut off his head. then they sounded the death-horn for slaying and they all gathered round. they came kadyriath to arthur and spoke to him. "lord," said he, "behold, yonder is guenever, and none with her save only one maiden." "command gildas, the son of caw, and all the scholars of the court," said arthur, "to attend guenever to the palace." and they did so. then they all set forth, holding converse together concerning the head of the stag, to whom it should be given. one wished that it should be given to the lady best beloved by him, and another to the lady whom he loved best. and so they came to the palace. and when arthur and guenever heard them disputing about the head of the stag, guenever said to arthur: "my lord, this is my counsel concerning the stag's head; let it not be given away until geraint, the son of erbin, shall return from the errand he is upon." and guenever told arthur what that errand was. "right gladly shall it be so," said arthur. and guenever caused a watch to be set upon the ramparts for geraint's coming. and after midday they beheld an unshapely little man upon a horse, and after him a dame or a damsel, also on horseback, and after her a knight of large stature, bowed down, and hanging his head low and sorrowfully, and clad in broken and worthless armor. and before they came near to the gate one of the watch went to guenever, and told her what kind of people they saw, and what aspect they bore. "i know not who they are," said he, "but i know," said guenever; "this is the knight whom geraint pursued, and methinks that he comes not here by his own free will. but geraint has overtaken him, and avenged the insult to the maiden to the uttermost." and thereupon, behold, a porter came to the spot where guenever was. "lady," said he, "at the gate there is a knight, and i saw never a man of so pitiful an aspect to look upon as he. miserable and broken is the armor that he wears, and the hue of blood is more conspicuous upon it than its own color." "knowest thou his name?" said she. "i do," said he; "he tells me that he is edeyrn, the son of nudd." then she replied, "i know him not." so guenever went to the gate to meet him and he entered. and guenever was sorry when she saw the condition he was in, even though he was accompanied by the churlish dwarf. then edeyrn saluted guenever. "heaven protect thee," said she. "lady," said he, "geraint, the son of erbin, thy best and most valiant servant, greets thee." "did he meet with thee?" she asked. "yes," said he, "and it was not to my advantage; and that was not his fault, but mine, lady. and geraint greets thee well; and in greeting thee he compelled me to come hither to do thy pleasure for the insult which thy maiden received from the dwarf." "now where did he overtake thee?" "at the place where we were jousting and contending for the sparrow-hawk, in the town which is now called cardiff. and it was for the avouchment of the love of the maiden, the daughter of earl ynywl, that geraint jousted at the tournament. and thereupon we encountered each other, and he left me, lady, as thou seest." "sir," said she, "when thinkest thou that geraint will be here?" "to-morrow, lady, i think he will be here with the maiden." then arthur came to them. and he saluted arthur, and arthur gazed a long time upon him and was amazed to see him thus. and thinking that he knew him, he inquired of him, "art thou edeyrn, the son of nudd?" "i am, lord," said he, "and i have met with much trouble and received wounds unsupportable." then he told arthur all his adventure. "well," said arthur, "from what i hear it behooves guenever to be merciful towards thee." "the mercy which thou desirest, lord," said she. "will i grant to him, since it is as insulting to thee that an insult should be offered to me as to thyself." "thus will it be best to do," said arthur; "let this man have medical care until it be known whether he may live. and if he live, he shall do such satisfaction as shall be judged best by the men of the court. and if he die, too much will be the death of such a youth as edeyrn for an insult to a maiden." "this pleases me," said guenever. and arthur caused morgan tud to be called to him. he was the chief physician. "take with thee edeyrn, the son of nudd, and cause a chamber to be prepared for him, and let him have the aid of medicine as thou wouldst do unto myself, if i were wounded, and let none into his chamber to molest him, but thyself and thy disciples, to administer to him remedies." "i will do so, gladly, lord," said morgan tud. then said the steward of the household, "whither is it right, lord, to order the maiden?" "to guenever and her handmaidens," said he. and the steward of the household so ordered her. "and rising up, he rode to arthur's court, and there the queen forgave him easily. and being young, he changed himself, and grew to hate the sin that seem'd so like his own of modred, arthur's nephew, and fell at last in the great battle fighting for the king." --enid. the next day came geraint towards the court; and there was a watch set on the ramparts by guenever, lest he should arrive unawares. and one of the watch came to guenever. "lady," said he, "methinks that i see geraint, and a maiden with him. he is on horseback, but he has his walking gear upon him, and the maiden appears to be in white, seeming to be clad in a garment of linen." "assemble all the women," said guenever, "and come to meet geraint, to welcome him, and wish him joy." and guenever went to meet geraint and the maiden. and when geraint came to the place where guenever was, he saluted her. "heaven prosper thee," said she, "and welcome to thee." "lady," said he, "i earnestly desired to obtain thee satisfaction, according to thy will; and, behold, here is the maiden through whom thou hadst thy revenge." "verily," said guenever, "the welcome of heaven be unto her; and it is fitting that we should receive her joyfully." then they went in and dismounted. and geraint came to where arthur was, and saluted him. "heaven protect thee," said arthur, "and the welcome of heaven be unto thee. and inasmuch as thou hast vanquished edeyrn, the son of nudd, thou hast had a prosperous career." "not upon me be the blame," said geraint; "it was through the arrogance of edeyrn, the son of nudd, himself, that we were not friends." "now," said arthur, "where is the maiden for whom i heard thou didst give challenge?" "she is gone with guenever to her chamber." then went arthur to see the maiden. and arthur, and all his companions, and his whole court, were glad concerning the maiden. and certain were they all, that, had her array been suitable to her beauty, they had never seen a maid fairer than she. and arthur gave away the maiden to geraint. and the usual bond made between two persons was made between geraint and the maiden, and the choicest of all guenever's apparel was given to the maiden; and thus arrayed, she appeared comely and graceful to all who beheld her. and that day and the night were spent in abundance of minstrelsy, and ample gifts of liquor, and a multiude of games. and when it was time for them to go to sleep they went. and in the chamber where the couch of arthur and guenever was, the couch of geraint and enid was prepared. and from that time she became his wife. and the next day arthur satisfied all the claimants upon geraint with bountiful gifts. and the maiden took up her abode in the palace, and she had many companions, both men and women, and there was no maiden more esteemed than she in the island of britain. then spake guenever. "rightly did i judge," said she, "concerning the head of the stag, that it should not be given to any until geraint's return; and behold, here is a fit occasion for bestowing it. let it be given to enid, the daughter of ynywl, the most illustrious maiden. and i do not believe that any will begrudge it her, for between her and every one here there exists nothing but love and friendship." much applauded was this by them all, and by arthur also. and the head of the stag was given to enid. and thereupon her fame increased, and her friends became more in number than before. and geraint from that time forth loved the hunt, and the tournament, and hard encounters; and he came victorious from them all. and a year, and a second, and a third, he proceeded thus, until his fame had flown over the face of the kingdom. and, once upon a time, arthur was holding his court at caerleon upon usk; and behold, there came to him ambassadors, wise and prudent, full of knowledge and eloquent of speech, and they saluted arthur. "heaven prosper you!" said arthur; "and whence do you come?" "we come, lord," said they, "from cornwall; and we are ambassadors from erbin, the son of custennin, thy uncle, and our mission is unto thee. and he greets thee well, as an uncle should greet his nephew, and as a vassal should greet his lord. and he represents unto thee that he waxes heavy and feeble, and is advancing in years. and the neighboring chiefs, knowing this, grow insolent towards him, and covet his land and possessions. and he earnestly beseeches thee, lord, to permit geraint, his son, to return to him, to protect his possessions, and to become acquainted with his boundaries. and unto him he represents that it were better for him to spend the flower of his youth and the prime of his age in preserving his own boundaries, than in tournaments which are productive of no profit, although he obtains glory in them." "well," said arthur, "go and divest yourselves of your accoutrements, and take food, and refresh yourselves after your fatigues; and before you go from hence you shall have an answer." and they went to eat. and arthur considered that it would go hard with him to let geraint depart from him, and from his court; neither did he think it fair that his cousin should be restrained from going to protect his dominions and his boundaries, seeing that his father was unable to do so. no less was the grief and regret of guenever, and all her women, and all her damsels, through fear that the maiden would leave them. and that day and that night were spent in abundance of feasting. and arthur told geraint the cause of the mission, and of the coming of the ambassadors to him out of cornwall. "truly," said geraint, "be it to my advantage or disadvantage, lord, i will do according to thy will concerning this embassy." "behold," said arthur, "though it grieves me to part with thee, it is my counsel that thou go to dwell in thine own dominions, and to defend thy boundaries, and take with thee to accompany thee as many as thou wilt of those thou lovest best among my faithful ones, and among thy friends, and among thy companions in arms." "heaven reward thee! and this will i do," said geraint. "what discourse," said guenever, "do i hear between you? is it of those who are to conduct geraint to his country?" "it is," said arthur. "then is it needful for me to consider," said she, "concerning companions and a provision for the lady that is with me." "thou wilt do well," said arthur. and that night they went to sleep. and the next day the ambassadors were permitted to depart, and they were told that geraint should follow them. and on the third day geraint set forth, and many went with him--gawain, the son of gwyar, and riogoned, the son of the king of ireland, and ondyaw, the son of the duke of burgundy, gwilim, the son of the ruler of the franks, howel, the son of the earl of brittany, perceval, the son of evrawk, gwyr, a judge in the court of arthur, bedwyr, the son of bedrawd, kai, the son of kyner, odyar, the frank, and ederyn, the son of nudd. said geraint, "i think i shall have enough of knighthood with me." and they set forth. and never was there seen a fairer host journeying towards the severn. and on the other side of the severn were the nobles of erbin, the son of custennin, and his foster-father at their head, to welcome geraint with gladness; and many of the women of the court, with his mother, came to receive enid, the daughter of ynywl, his wife. and there was great rejoicing and gladness throughout the whole court, and through all the country, concerning geraint, because of the greatness of their love to him, and of the greatness of the fame which he had gained since he went from amongst them, and because he was come to take possession of his dominions, and to preserve his boundaries. and they came to the court. and in the court they had ample entertainment, and a multitude of gifts, and abundance of liquor, and a sufficiency of service, and a variety of games. and to do honor to geraint, all the chief men of the country were invited that night to visit him. and they passed that day and that night in the utmost enjoyment. and at dawn next day erbin arose and summoned to him geraint, and the noble persons who had borne him company. and he said to geraint: "i am a feeble and an aged man, and whilst i was able to maintain the dominion for thee and for myself, i did so. but thou art young, and in the flower of thy vigor and of thy youth. henceforth do thou preserve thy possessions." "truly," said geraint, "with my consent thou shalt not give the power over thy dominions at this time into my hands, and thou shalt not take me from arthur's court." "into thy hands will i give them," said erbin, "and this day also shalt thou receive the homage of thy subjects." then said gawain, "it were better for thee to satisfy those who have boons to ask, to-day, and to-morrow thou canst receive the homage of thy dominions." so all that had boons to ask were summoned into one place. and kadyriath came to them to know what were their requests. and every one asked that which he desired. and the followers of arthur began to make gifts, and immediately the men of cornwall came, and gave also. and they were not long in giving, so eager was every one to bestow gifts, and of those who came to ask gifts, none departed unsatisfied. and that day and that night were spent in the utmost enjoyment. and the next day at dawn, erbin desired geraint to send messengers to the men to ask them whether it was displeasing to them that he should come to receive their homage, and whether they had anything to object to him. then geraint sent ambassadors to the men of cornwall to ask them this. and they all said that it would be the fulness of joy and honor to them for geraint to come and receive their homage. so he received the homage of such as were there. and the day after the followers of arthur intended to go away. "it is too soon for you to go away yet," said he; "stay with me until i have finished receiving the homage of my chief men, who have agreed to come to me." and they remained with him until he had done so. then they set forth towards the court of arthur. and geraint went to bear them company, and enid also, as far as diganwy; there they parted. and ondyaw, the son of the duke of burgundy, said to geraint, "go, now, and visit the uttermost parts of thy dominions, and see well to the boundaries of thy territories; and if thou hast any trouble respecting them, send unto thy companions." "heaven reward thee!" said geraint; "and this will i do." and geraint journeyed to the uttermost parts of his dominions. and experienced guides, and the chief men of his country, went with him. and the furthermost point that they showed him he kept possession of. chapter vii geraint, the son of erbin (continued) geraint, as he had been used to do when he was at arthur's court, frequented tournaments. and he became acquainted with valiant and mighty men, until he had gained as much fame there as he had formerly done elsewhere. and he enriched his court, and his companions, and his nobles, with the best horses and the best arms, and with the best and most valuable jewels, and he ceased not until his fame had flown over the face of the whole kingdom. "before geraint, the scourge of the enemy, i saw steeds white with foam, and after the shout of battle a fearful torrent." --hen. when he knew that it was thus, he began to love ease and pleasure, for there was no one who was worth his opposing. and he loved his wife, and liked to continue in the palace with minstrelsy and diversions. so he began to shut himself up in the chamber of his wife, and he took no delight in anything besides, insomuch that he gave up the friendship of his nobles, together with his hunting and his amusements, and lost the hearts of all the host in his court. and there was murmuring and scoffing concerning him among the inhabitants of the palace, on account of his relinquishing so completely their companionship for the love of his wife. "they began to scoff and jeer and babble of him as of a prince whose manhood was all gone, and molten down in mere uxoriousness." these tidings came to erbin. and when erbin had heard these things, he spoke unto enid, and inquired of her whether it was she that had caused geraint to act thus, and to forsake his people and his hosts. "not i, by my confession unto heaven," said she; "there is nothing more hateful unto me than this." and she knew not what she should do, for, although it was hard for her to own this to geraint, yet was it not more easy for her to listen to what she heard, without warning geraint concerning it. and she was very sorrowful. one morning in the summer-time they were upon their couch, and geraint lay upon the edge of it. and enid was without sleep in the apartment, which had windows of glass; [footnote: the terms of admiration in which the older writers invariably speak of glass windows would be sufficient proof, if other evidence were wanting, how rare an article of luxury they were in the houses of our ancestors. they were first introduced in ecclesiastical architecture, to which they were for a long time confined. glass is said not to have been employed in domestic architecture before the fourteenth century.] and the sun shone upon the couch. and the clothes had slipped from off his arms and his breast, and he was asleep. then she gazed upon the marvellous beauty of his appearance, and she said, "alas! and am i the cause that these arms and this breast have lost their glory, and the warlike fame which they once so richly enjoyed!" as she said this the tears dropped from her eyes, and they fell upon his breast. and the tears she shed and the words she had spoken, awoke him. and another thing contributed to awaken him, and that was the idea that it was not in thinking of him that she spoke thus, but that it was because she loved some other man more than him, and that she wished for other society. thereupon geraint was troubled in his mind, and he called his squire; and when he came to him, "go quickly," said he, "and prepare my horse and my arms, and make them ready. and do thou rise," said he to enid, "and apparel thyself; and cause thy horse to be accoutred, and clothe thee in the worst riding-dress that thou hast in thy possession. and evil betide me," said he, "if thou returnest here until thou knowest whether i have lost my strength so completely as thou didst say. and if it be so, it will then be easy for thee to seek the society thou didst wish for of him of whom thou wast thinking." so she arose, and clothed herself in her meanest garments. "i know nothing, lord," said she, "of thy meaning." "neither wilt thou know at this time," said he. then geraint went to see erbin. "sir," said he, "i am going upon a quest, and i am not certain when i may come back. take heed, therefore, unto thy possessions until my return." "i will do so," said he; "but it is strange to me that thou shouldst go so suddenly. and who will proceed with thee, since thou art not strong enough to traverse the land of loegyr alone?" "but one person only will go with me." "heaven counsel thee, my son," said erbin, "and may many attach themselves to thee in loegyr." then went geraint to the place where his horse was, and it was equipped with foreign armor, heavy and shining. and he desired enid to mount her horse, and to ride forward, and to keep a long way before him. "and whatever thou mayst see, and whatever thou mayst hear concerning me," said he, "do thou not turn back. and unless i speak unto thee, say not thou one word, either." so they set forward. and he did not choose the pleasantest and most frequented road, but that which was the wildest and most beset by thieves and robbers and venomous animals. and they came to a high road, which they followed till they saw a vast forest; and they saw four armed horsemen come forth from the forest. when the armed men saw them, they said one to another. "here is a good occasion for us to capture two horses and armor, and a lady likewise; for this we shall have no difficulty in doing against yonder single knight who hangs his head so pensively and heavily." enid heard this discourse, and she knew not what she should do through fear of geraint, who had told her to be silent. "the vengeance of heaven be upon me," said she, "if i would not rather receive my death from his hand than from the hand of any other; and though he should slay me, yet will i speak to him, lest i should have the misery to witness his death." so she waited for geraint until he came near to her. "lord," said she, "didst thou hear the words of those men concerning thee?" then he lifted up his eyes, and looked at her angrily. "thou hadst only," said he, "to hold thy peace as i bade thee. i wish but for silence, and not for warning. and though thou shouldst desire to see my defeat and my death by the hands of those men, yet do i feel no dread." then the foremost of them couched his lance, and rushed upon geraint. and he received him, and that not feebly. but he let the thrust go by him, while he struck the horseman upon the centre of his shield, in such a manner that his shield was split, and his armor broken, so that a cubit's length of the shaft of geraint's lance passed through his body, and sent him to the earth, the length of the lance over his horse's crupper. then the second horseman attacked him furiously, being wroth at the death of his companion. but with one thrust geraint overthrew him also, and killed him as he had done the other. then the third set upon him, and he killed him in like manner. and thus also he slew the fourth. sad and sorrowful was the maiden as she saw all this. geraint dismounted his horse, and took the arms of the men he had slain, and placed them upon their saddles, and tied together the reins of their horses; and he mounted his horse again. "behold what thou must do," said he; "take the four horses and drive them before thee, and proceed forward as i bade thee just now. and say not one word unto me, unless i speak first unto thee. and i declare unto heaven," said he, "if thou doest not thus, it will be to thy cost." "i will do as far as i can, lord," said she, "according to thy desire." so the maiden went forward, keeping in advance of geraint, as he had desired her; and it grieved him as much as his wrath would permit, to see a maiden so illustrious as she having so much trouble with the care of the horses. then they reached a wood, and it was both deep and vast, and in the wood night overtook them. "ah, maiden," said he, "it is vain to attempt proceeding forward." "well, lord," said she, "whatever thou wishest, we will do." "it will be best for us," he answered, "to rest and wait for the day, in order to pursue our journey." "that we will, gladly," said she. and they did so. having dismounted himself, he took her down from her horse. "i cannot by any means refrain from sleep, through weariness," said he; "do thou therefore watch the horses, and sleep not." "i will, lord," said she. then he went to sleep in his armor, and thus passed the night, which was not long at that season. and when she saw the dawn of day appear, she looked around her to see if he were waking, and thereupon he woke. then he arose, and said unto her, "take the horses and ride on, and keep straight on as thou didst yesterday." and they left the wood, and they came to an open country, with meadows on one hand, and mowers mowing the meadows. and there was a river before them, and the horses bent down and drank of the water. and they went up out of the river by a lofty steep; and there they met a slender stripling with a satchel about his neck, and they saw that there was something in the satchel, but they knew not what it was. and he had a small blue pitcher in his hand, and a bowl on the mouth of the pitcher. and the youth saluted geraint. "heaven prosper thee!" said geraint; "and whence dost thou come?" "i come," said he, "from the city that lies before thee. my lord," he added, "will it be displeasing to thee if i ask whence thou comest also?" "by no means; through yonder wood did i come." "thou camest not through the wood to-day." "no," he replied, "we were in the wood last night." "i warrant," said the youth, "that thy condition there last night was not the most pleasant, and that thou hadst neither meat nor drink." "no, by my faith," said he. "wilt thou follow my counsel," said the youth, "and take thy meal from me?" "what sort of meal?" he inquired. "the breakfast which is sent for yonder mowers, nothing less than bread and meat and wine, and if thou wilt, sir, they shall have none of it." "i will," said he, "and heaven reward thee for it." so geraint alighted, and the youth took the maiden from off her horse. then they washed, and took their repast. and the youth cut the bread in slices, and gave them drink, and served them withal. and when they had finished, the youth arose and said to geraint, "my lord, with thy permission, i will now go and fetch some food for the mowers." "go first to the town," said geraint, "and take a lodging for me in the best place that thou knowest, and the most commodious one for the horses; and take thou whichever horse and arms thou choosest, in payment for thy service and thy gift." "heaven reward thee, lord!" said the youth; "and this would be ample to repay services much greater than those i have rendered unto thee." and to the town went the youth, and he took the best and the most pleasant lodgings that he knew; and after that he went to the palace, having the horse and armor with him, and proceeded to the place where the earl was, and told him all his adventure. "i go now, lord," said he, "to meet the knight, and to conduct him to his lodging." "go, gladly," said the earl; "and right joyfully shall he be received here, if he so come." and the youth went to meet geraint, and told him that he would be received gladly by the earl in his own palace; but he would go only to his lodgings. and he had a goodly chamber, in which was plenty of straw and drapery, and a spacious and commodious place he had for the horses; and the youth prepared for them plenty of provender. after they had disarrayed themselves, geraint spoke thus to enid: "go," said he, "to the other side of the chamber, and come not to this side of the house; and thou mayst call to thee the woman of the house, if thou wilt." "i will do, lord," said she, "as thou sayest." thereupon the man of the house came to geraint and welcomed him. and after they had eaten and drank, geraint went to sleep, and so did enid also. in the evening, behold, the earl came to visit geraint, and his twelve honorable knights with him. and geraint rose up and welcomed him. then they all sat down according to their precedence in honor. and the earl conversed with geraint, and inquired of him the object of his journey. "i have none," he replied, "but to seek adventures and to follow mine own inclination." then the earl cast his eye upon enid, and he looked at her steadfastly. and he thought he had never seen a maiden fairer or more comely than she. and he set all his thoughts and his affections upon her. then he asked of geraint, "have i thy permission to go and converse with yonder maiden, for i see that she is apart from thee?" "thou hast it gladly," said he. so the earl went to the place where the maiden was, and spake with her. "ah! maiden," said he, "it cannot be pleasant to thee to journey with yonder man." "it is not unpleasant to me," said she. "thou hast neither youths nor maidens to serve thee," said he. "truly," she replied, "it is more pleasant for me to follow yonder man, than to be served by youths and maidens." "i will give thee good counsel," said he: "all my earldom will i place in thy possession, if thou wilt dwell with me." "enid, the pilot star of my lone life, enid, my early and my only love." --enid. "that will i not, by heaven," she said; "yonder man was the first to whom my faith was ever pledged; and shall i prove inconstant to him?" "thou art in the wrong," said the earl; "if i slay the man yonder, i can keep thee with me as long as i choose; and when thou no longer pleasest me, i can turn thee away. but if thou goest with me by thy own good-will, i protest that our union shall continue as long as i remain alive." then she pondered those words of his, and she considered that it was advisable to encourage him in his request. "behold then, chieftain, this is most expedient for thee to do to save me from all reproach; come here to-morrow and take me away as though i knew nothing thereof." "i will do so," said he. so he arose and took his leave, and went forth with his attendants. and she told not then to geraint any of the conversation which she had had with the earl, lest it should rouse his anger, and cause him uneasiness and care. and at the usual hour they went to sleep. and at the beginning of the night enid slept a little; and at midnight she arose, and placed all geraint's armor together so that it might be ready to put on. and although fearful of her errand, she came to the side of geraint's bed; and she spoke to him softly and gently, saying, "my lord, arise, and clothe thyself, for these were the words of the earl to me and his intention concerning me." so she told geraint all that had passed. and although he was wroth with her, he took warning, and clothed himself. and she lighted a candle, that he might have light to do so. "leave there the candle," said he, "and desire the man of the house to come here." then she went, and the man of the house came to him. "dost thou know how much i owe thee?" asked geraint. "i think thou owest but little." "take the three horses and the three suits of armor." "heaven reward thee, lord," said he, "but i spent not the value of one suit of armor upon thee." "for that reason," said he, "thou wilt be the richer. and now, wilt thou come to guide me out of the town?" "i will gladly," said he; "and in which direction dost thou intend to go?" "i wish to leave the town by a different way from that by which i entered it." so the man of the lodgings accompanied him as far as he desired. then he bade the maiden to go on before him, and she did so, and went straight forward, and his host returned home. and geraint and the maiden went forward along the high-road. and as they journeyed thus, they heard an exceeding loud wailing near to them. "stay thou here," said he, "and i will go and see what is the cause of this wailing." "i will," said she. then he went forward into an open glade that was near the road. and in the glade he saw two horses, one having a man's saddle, and the other a woman's saddle upon it. and behold there was a knight lying dead in his armor, and a young damsel in a riding-dress standing over him lamenting. "ah, lady," said geraint, "what hath befallen thee?" "behold," she answered, "i journeyed here with my beloved husband, when lo! three giants came upon us, and without any cause in the world, they slew him." "which way went they hence?" said geraint. "yonder by the high-road," she replied. so he returned to enid. "go," said he, "to the lady that is below yonder, and await me there till i come." she was sad when he ordered her to do thus, but nevertheless she went to the damsel, whom it was ruth to hear, and she felt certain that geraint would never return. meanwhile geraint followed the giants, and overtook them. and each of them was greater in stature than three other men, and a huge club was on the shoulder of each. then he rushed upon one of them, and thrust his lance through his body. and having drawn it forth again, he pierced another of them through likewise. but the third turned upon him and struck him with his club so that he split his shield and crushed his shoulder. but geraint drew his sword and gave the giant a blow on the crown of his head, so severe, and fierce, and violent, that his head and his neck were split down to his shoulders, and he fell dead. so geraint left him thus and returned to enid. and when he reached the place where she was he fell down lifeless from his horse. piercing and loud and thrilling was the cry that enid uttered. and she came and stood over him where he had fallen. and at the sound of her cries came the earl of limours, and they who journeyed with him, whom her lamentations brought out of their road. and the earl said to enid, "alas, lady, what hath befallen thee?" "ah, good sir," said she, "the only man i have loved, or ever shall love, is slain." then he said to the other, "and what is the cause of thy grief?" "they have slain my beloved husband also," said she. "and who was it that slew them?" "some giants," she answered, "slew my best-beloved, and the other knight went in pursuit of them, and came back in the state thou seest." the earl caused the knight that was dead to be buried, but he thought that there still remained some life in geraint; and to see if he yet would live, he had him carried with him in the hollow of his shield, and upon a bier. and the two damsels went to the court; and when they arrived there, geraint was placed upon a little couch in front of the table that was in the hall. then they all took off their traveling-gear, and the earl besought enid to do the same, and to clothe herself in other garments. "i will not, by heaven," said she. "ah, lady," said he, "be not so sorrowful for this matter." "it were hard to persuade me to be otherwise," said she. "i will act towards thee in such wise that thou needest not be sorrowful, whether yonder knight live or die. behold, a good earldom, together with myself, will i bestow upon thee; be therefore happy and joyful." "i declare to heaven," said she, "that henceforth i shall never be joyful while i live." "come," said he, "and eat." "no, by heaven, i will not." "but, by heaven, thou shalt," said he. so he took her with him to the table against her will, and many times desired her to eat. "i call heaven to witness," said she, "that i will not until the man that is upon yonder bier shall eat likewise." "thou canst not fulfil that," said the earl, "yonder man is dead already." "i will prove that i can," said she. then he offered her a goblet of liquor. "drink this goblet," he said, "and it will cause thee to change thy mind." "evil betide me," she answered, "if i drink aught until he drink also." "truly," said the earl, "it is of no more avail for me to be gentle with thee than ungentle." and he gave her a box in the ear. thereupon she raised a loud and piercing shriek, and her lamentations were much greater than they had been before; for she considered in her mind, that, had geraint been alive, he durst not have struck her thus. but, behold, at the sound of her cry, geraint revived from his swoon, and he sat upon the bier; and finding his sword in the hollow of his shield, he rushed to the place where the earl was, and struck him a fiercely-wounding, severely-venomous, and sternly-smiting blow upon the crown of his head, so that he clove him in twain, until his sword was staid by the table. then all left the board and fled away. and this was not so much through fear of the living, as through the dread they felt at seeing the dead man rise up to slay them. and geraint looked upon enid, and he was grieved for two causes; one was to see that enid had lost her color and her wonted aspect; and the other, to know that she was in the right. "lady," said he, "knowest thou where our horses are?" "i know, lord, where thy horse is," she replied, "but i know not where is the other. thy horse is in the house yonder." so he went to the house, and brought forth his horse, and mounted him, and took up enid, and placed her upon the horse with him. and he rode forward. and their road lay between two hedges; and the night was gaining on the day. and lo! they saw behind them the shafts of spears betwixt them and the sky, and they heard the tramping of horses, and the noise of a host approaching. "i hear something following us," said he, "and i will put thee on the other side of the hedge." and thus he did. and thereupon, behold a knight pricked towards him, and couched his lance. when enid saw this, she cried out, saying, "o chieftain, whoever thou art, what renown wilt thou gain by slaying a dead man?" "o heaven!" said he, "is it geraint?" "yes, in truth," said she; "and who art thou?" "i am gwiffert petit," said he, "thy husband's ally, coming to thy assistance, for i heard that thou wast in trouble. come with me to the court of a son-in-law of my sister, which is near here, and thou shalt have the best medical assistance in the kingdom." "i will do so gladly," said geraint. and enid was placed upon the horse of one of gwiffert's squires, and they went forward to the baron's palace. and they were received there with gladness, and they met with hospitality and attention. the next morning they went to seek physicians; and it was not long before they came, and they attended geraint until he was perfectly well. and while geraint was under medical care gwiffert caused his armor to be repaired, until it was as good as it had ever been. and they remained there a month and a fortnight. then they separated, and geraint went towards his own dominions, and thenceforth he reigned prosperously, and his warlike fame and splendor lasted with renown and honor, both to him and to enid, from that time forward. [footnote: throughout the broad and varied region of romance it would be difficult to find a character of greater simplicity and truth than that of enid, the daughter of earl ynywl. conspicuous for her beauty and noble bearing, we are at a loss whether more to admire the patience with which she bore all the hardships she was destined to undergo or the constancy and affection which finally achieved the truimph she so richly deserved. the character of enid is admirably sustained through the whole tale; and as it is more natural, because less overstrained, so perhaps it is even more touching than that of griselda, over which, however, chaucer has thrown a charm that leads us to forget the improbability of her story.] chapter viii pwyll, prince of dyved once upon a time pwyll was at narberth, his chief palace, where a feast had been prepared for him, and with him was a great host of men. and after the first meal pwyll arose to walk; and he went to the top of a mound that was above the palace, and was called gorsedd arberth. "lord," said one of the court, "it is peculiar to the mound that whosoever sits upon it cannot go thence without either receiving wounds or blows, or else seeing a wonder." "i fear not to receive wounds or blows," said pwyll; "but as to the wonder, gladly would i see it. i will therefore go and sit upon the mound." and upon the mound he sat. and while he sat there, they saw a lady, on a pure white horse of large size, with a garment of shining gold around her, coming along the highway that led from the mound. "my men," said pwyll, "is there any among you who knows yonder lady?" "there is not, lord," said they. "go one of you and meet her, that we may know who she is." and one of them arose, and as he came upon the road to meet her, she passed by; and he followed as fast as he could, being on foot, and the greater was his speed, the further was she from him. and when he saw that it profited him nothing to follow her, he returned to pwyll, and said unto him, "lord, it is idle for any one in the world to follow her on foot." "verily," said pwyll, "go unto the palace, and take the fleetest horse that thou seest, and go after her." and he took a horse and went forward. and he came to an open, level plain, and put spurs to his horse; and the more he urged his horse, the further was she from him. and he returned to the place where pwyll was, and said, "lord, it will avail nothing for any one to follow yonder lady. i know of no horse in these realms swifter than this, and it availed me not to pursue her." "of a truth," said pwyll, "there must be some illusion here; let us go towards the palace." so to the palace they went, and spent the day. and the next day they amused themselves until it was time to go to meat. and when meat was ended, pwyll said, "where are the hosts that went yesterday to the top of the mound?" "behold, lord, we are here," said they. "let us go," said he, "to the mound, and sit there. and do thou," said he to the page who tended his horse, "saddle my horse well, and hasten with him to the road, and bring also my spurs with thee." and the youth did thus. and they went and sat upon the mound; and ere they had been there but a short time, they beheld the lady coming by the same road, and in the same manner, and at the same pace. "young man," said pwyll, "i see the lady coming; give me my horse." and before he had mounted his horse she passed him. and he turned after her and followed her. and he let his horse go bounding playfully, and thought that he should soon come up with her. but he came no nearer to her than at first. then he urged his horse to his utmost speed, yet he found that it availed not. then said pwyll, "o maiden, for the sake of him whom thou best lovest, stay for me." "i will stay gladly," said she; "and it were better for thy horse hadst thou asked it long since." so the maiden stopped; and she threw back that part of her head-dress which covered her face. then he thought that the beauty of all the maidens and all the ladies that he had ever seen was as nothing compared to her beauty. "lady," he said, "wilt thou tell me aught concerning thy purpose?" "i will tell thee," said she; "my chief quest was to see thee." "truly," said pwyll, "this is to me the most pleasing quest on which thou couldst have come; and wilt thou tell me who thou art?" "i will tell thee, lord," said she. "i am rhiannon, the daughter of heveydd, and they sought to give me a husband against my will. but no husband would i have, and that because of my love for thee; neither will i yet have one, unless thou reject me; and hither have i come to hear thy answer." "by heaven," said pwyll, "behold this is my answer. if i might choose among all the ladies and damsels in the world, thee would i choose." "verily," said she, "if thou art thus minded, make a pledge to meet me ere i am given to another." "the sooner i may do so, the more pleasing will it be to me," said pwyll; "and wheresoever thou wilt, there will i meet with thee." "i will that thou meet me this day twelvemonth at the palace of heveydd." "gladly," said he, "will i keep this tryst." so they parted, and he went back to his hosts, and to them of his household. and whatsoever questions they asked him respecting the damsel, he always turned the discourse upon other matters. and when a year from that time was gone, he caused a hundred knights to equip themselves, and to go with him to the palace of heveydd. and he came to the palace, and there was great joy concerning him, with much concourse of people, and great rejoicing, and vast preparations for his coming. and the whole court was placed under his orders. and the hall was garnished, and they went to meat, and thus did they sit: heveydd was on one side of pwyll, and rhiannon on the other; and all the rest according to their rank. and they ate and feasted, and talked one with another. and at the beginning of the carousal after the meat, there entered a tall, auburn-haired youth, of royal bearing, clothed in a garment of satin. and when he came into the hall, he saluted pwyll and his companions. "the greeting of heaven be unto thee," said pwyll; "come thou and sit down." "nay," said he, "a suitor am i, and i will do my errand." "do so willingly," said pwyll. "lord," said he, "my errand is unto thee, and it is to crave a boon of thee that i come." "what boon soever thou mayest ask of me, so far as i am able, thou shalt have." "ah!" said rhiannon, "wherefore didst thou give that answer?" "has he not given it before the presence of these nobles?" asked the youth. "my soul," said pwyll, "what is the boon thou askest?" "the lady whom best i love is to be thy bride this night; i come to ask her of thee, with the feast and the banquet that are in this place." and pwyll was silent, because of the promise which he had given. "be silent as long as thou wilt," said rhiannon, "never did man make worse use of his wits than thou hast done." "lady," said he, "i knew not who he was." "behold, this is the man to whom they would have given me against my will," said she; "and he is gawl, the son of clud, a man of great power and wealth, and because of the word thou hast spoken, bestow me upon him, lest shame befall thee." "lady," said he, "i understand not thy answer; never can i do as thou sayest." "bestow me upon him," said she, "and i will cause that i shall never be his." "by what means will that be?" asked pwyll. then she told him the thought that was in her mind. and they talked long together. then gawl said, "lord, it is meet that i have an answer to my request." "as much of that thou hast asked as it is in my power to give, thou shalt have," replied pwyll. "my soul," said rhiannon unto gawl, "as for the feast and the banquet that are here, i have bestowed them upon the men of dyved, and the household and the warriors that are with us. these can i not suffer to be given to any. in a year from to-night, a banquet shall be prepared for thee in this palace, that i may become thy bride." so gawl went forth to his possessions, and pwyll went also back to dyved. and they both spent that year until it was the time for the feast at the palace of heveydd. then gawl, the son of clud, set out to the feast that was prepared for him; and he came to the palace, and was received there with rejoicing. pwyll, also, the chief of dyved, came to the orchard with a hundred knights, as rhiannon had commanded him. and pwyll was clad in coarse and ragged garments, and wore large, clumsy old shoes upon his feet. and when he knew that the carousal after the meat had begun, he went toward the hall; and when he came into the hall he saluted gawl, the son of clud, and his company, both men and women. "heaven prosper thee," said gawl, "and friendly greeting be unto thee!" "lord," said he, "may heaven reward thee! i have an errand unto thee." "welcome be thine errand, and if thou ask of me that which is right, thou shalt have it gladly." "it is fitting," answered he; "i crave but from want, and the boon i ask is to have this small bag that thou seest filled with meat." "a request within reason is this," said he, "and gladly shalt thou have it. bring him food." a great number of attendants arose and began to fill the bag; but for all they put into it, it was no fuller than at first. "my soul," said gawl, "will thy bag ever be full?" "it will not, i declare to heaven," said he, "for all that may be put into it, unless one possessed of lands, and domains, and treasure, shall arise and tread down with both his feet the food that is within the bag, and shall say, 'enough has been put therein.'" then said rhiannon unto gawl, the son of clud, "rise up quickly." "i will willingly arise," said he. so he rose up, and put his two feet into the bag. and pwyll turned up the sides of the bag, so that gawl was over his head in it. and he shut it up quickly, and slipped a knot upon the thongs, and blew his horn. and thereupon, behold, his knights came down upon the palace. and they seized all the host that had come with gawl, and cast them into his own prison. and pwyll threw off his rags, and his old shoes, and his tattered array. and as they came in, every one of pwyll's knights struck a blow upon the bag, and asked, "what is here?" "a badger," said they. and in this manner they played, each of them striking the bag, either with his foot or with a staff. and thus played they with the bag. and then was the game of badger in the bag first played. "lord," said the man in the bag, "if thou wouldst but hear me, i merit not to be slain in a bag." said heveydd, "lord, he speaks truth; it were fitting that thou listen to him, for he deserves not this." "verily," said pwyll, "i will do thy counsel concerning him." "behold, this is my counsel then," said rhiannon. "thou art now in a position in which it behooves thee to satisfy suitors and minstrels. let him give unto them in thy stead, and take a pledge from him that he will never seek to revenge that which has been done to him. and this will be punishment enough." "i will do this gladly," said the man in the bag. "and gladly will i accept it," said pwyll, "since it is the counsel of heveydd and rhiannon. seek thyself sureties." "we will be for him," said heveydd, "until his men be free to answer for him." and upon this he was let out of the bag, and his liegemen were liberated. "verily, lord," said gawl, "i am greatly hurt, and i have many bruises. with thy leave, i will go forth. i will leave nobles in my stead to answer for me in all that thou shalt require." "willingly," said pwyll, "mayest thou do this." so gawl went to his own possessions. and the hall was set in order for pwyll and the men of his host, and for them also of the palace, and they went to the tables and sat down. and as they had sat that time twelvemonth, so sat they that night. and they ate and feasted, and spent the night in mirth and tranquility. and the time came that they should sleep, and pwyll and rhiannon went to their chamber. and next morning at break of day, "my lord," said rhiannon, "arise and begin to give thy gifts unto the minstrels. refuse no one to- day that may claim thy bounty." "thus shall it be gladly," said pwyll, "both to-day and every day while the feast shall last." so pwyll arose, and he caused silence to be proclaimed, and desired all the suitors and minstrels to show and to point out what gifts they desired. and this being done, the feast went on, and he denied no one while it lasted. and when the feast was ended, pwyll said unto heveydd, "my lord, with thy permission, i will set out for dyved to-morrow." "certainly," said heveydd; "may heaven prosper thee! fix also a time when rhiannon shall follow thee." "by heaven," said pwyll, "we will go hence together." "willest thou this, lord?" said heveydd. "yes, lord," answered pwyll. and the next, day they set forward towards dyved, and journeyed to the palace of narberth, where a feast was made ready for them. and there came to them great numbers of the chief men and the most noble ladies of the land, and of these there were none to whom rhiannon did not give some rich gift, either a bracelet, or a ring, or a precious stone. and they ruled the land prosperously that year and the next. chapter ix branwen, the daughter of llyr bendigeid vran, the son of llyr, was the crowned king of this island, and he was exalted from the crown of london. and one afternoon he was at harlech, in ardudwy, at his court; and he sat upon the rock of harlech, looking over the sea. and with him were his brother, manawyddan, the son of llyr, and his brothers by the mother's side, nissyen and evnissyen, and many nobles likewise, as was fitting to see around a king. his two brothers by the mother's side were the sons of euroswydd, and one of these youths was a good youth, and of gentle nature, and would make peace between his kindred, and cause his family to be friends when their wrath was at the highest, and this one was nissyen; but the other would cause strife between his two brothers when they were most at peace. and as they sat thus they beheld thirteen ships coming from the south of ireland, and making towards them; and they came with a swift motion, the wind being behind them; and they neared them rapidly. "i see ships afar," said the king, "coming swiftly towards the land. command the men of the court that they equip themselves, and go and learn their intent." so the men equipped themselves, and went down towards them. and when they saw the ships near, certain were they that they had never seen ships better furnished. beautiful flags of satin were upon them. and, behold, one of the ships outstripped the others, and they saw a shield lifted up above the side of the ship, and the point of the shield was upwards, in token of peace. and the men drew near, that they might hold converse. then they put out boats, and came toward the land. and they saluted the king. now the king could hear them from the place where he was upon the rock above their heads. "heaven prosper you." said he, "and be ye welcome! to whom do these ships belong, and who is the chief amongst you?" "lord," said they, "matholch, king of ireland, is here, and these ships belong to him." "wherefore comes he?" asked the king, "and will he come to the land?" "he is a suitor unto thee, lord," said they, "and he will not land unless he have his boon." "and what may that be?" inquired the king. "he desires to ally himself, lord, with thee," said they, "and he comes to ask branwen, the daughter of llyr, that, if it seem well to thee, the island of the mighty [footnote: the island of the mighty is one of the many names bestowed upon britain by the welsh.] may be leagued with ireland, and both become more powerful." "verily," said he, "let him come to land, and we will take counsel thereupon." and this answer was brought to matholch. "i will go willingly," said he. so he landed, and they received him joyfully; and great was the throng in the palace that night, between his hosts and those of the court; and next day they took counsel, and they resolved to bestow branwen upon matholch. now she was one of the three chief ladies of this island, and she was the fairest damsel in the world. and they fixed upon aberfraw as the place where she should become his bride. and they went thence, and towards aberfraw the hosts proceeded, matholch and his host in their ships, bendigeid vran and his host by land, until they came to aberfraw. and at aberfraw they began the feast, and sat down. and thus sat they: the king of the island of the mighty and manawyddan, the son of llyr, on one side, and matholch on the other side, and branwen, the daughter of llyr, beside him. and they were not within a house, but under tents. no house could ever contain bendigeid vran. and they began the banquet, and caroused and discoursed. and when it was more pleasing to them to sleep than to carouse, they went to rest, and branwen became matholch's bride. and next day they arose, and all they of the court, and the officers began to equip, and to range the horses and the attendants, and they ranged them in order as far as the sea. and, behold, one day evnissyen, the quarrelsome man, of whom it is spoken above, came by chance into the place where the horses of matholch were, and asked whose horses they might be. "they are the horses of matholch, king of ireland, who is married to branwen, thy sister; his horses are they." "and is it thus they have done with a maiden such as she, and moreover my sister, bestowing her without my consent? they could have offered no greater insult to me than this," said he. and thereupon he rushed under the horses, and cut off their lips at the teeth, and their ears close to their heads, and their tails close to their backs; and he disfigured the horses, and rendered them useless. and they came with these tidings unto matholch, saying that the horses were disfigured and injured, so that not one of them could ever be of any use again. "verily, lord," said one, "it was an insult unto thee, and as such was it meant." "of a truth, it is a marvel to me that, if they desire to insult me, they should have given me a maiden of such high rank, and so much beloved of her kindred, as they have done." "lord," said another, "thou seest that thus it is, and there is nothing for thee to do but to go to thy ships." and thereupon towards his ships he set out. and tidings came to bendigeid vran that matholch was quitting the court without asking leave, and messengers were sent to inquire of him wherefore he did so. and the messengers that went were iddic, the son of anarawd, and heveyd hir. and these overtook him, and asked of him what he designed to do, and wherefore he went forth. "of a truth," said he, "if i had known, i had not come hither. i have been altogether insulted; no one had ever worse treatment than i have had here." "truly, lord, it was not the will of any that are of the court," said they, "nor of any that are of the council, that thou shouldst have received this insult; and as thou hast been insulted, the dishonor is greater unto bendigeid vran than unto thee." "verily," said he, "i think so. nevertheless, he cannot recall the insult." these men returned with that answer to the place where bendigeid vran was, and they told him what reply matholch had given them. "truly," said he, "there are no means by which we may prevent his going away at enmity with us that we will not take." "well, lord," said they, "send after him another embassy." "i will do so," said he. "arise, manawyddan, son of llyr, and heveyd hir, and go after him, and tell him that he shall have a sound horse for every one that has been injured. and beside that, as an atonement for the insult, he shall have a staff of silver as large and as tall as himself, and a plate of gold of the breadth of his face. and show unto him who it was that did this, and that it was done against my will; but that he who did it is my brother, and therefore it would be hard for me to put him to death. and let him come and meet me," said he, "and we will make peace in any way he may desire." the embassy went after matholch, and told him all these sayings in a friendly manner; and he listened thereunto. "men," said he, "i will take counsel." so to the council he went. and in the council they considered that, if they should refuse this, they were likely to have more shame rather than to obtain so great an atonement. they resolved, therefore, to accept it, and they returned to the court in peace. then the pavilions and the tents were set in order, after the fashion of a hall; and they went to meat, and as they had sat at the beginning of the feast so sat they there. and matholch and bendigeid vran began to discourse; and, behold, it seemed to bendigeid vran, while they talked, that matholch was not so cheerful as he had been before. and he thought that the chieftain might be sad because of the smallness of the atonement which he had for the wrong that had been done him. "o man," said bendigeid vran, "thou dost not discourse to-night so cheerfully as thou wast wont. and if it be because of the smallness of the atonement, thou shalt add thereunto whatsoever thou mayest choose, and to-morrow i will pay thee for the horses." "lord," said he, "heaven reward thee!" "and i will enhance the atonement," said bendigeid vran, "for i will give unto thee a caldron, the property of which is, that if one of thy men be slain to-day, and be cast therein, to- morrow he will be as well as ever he was at the best, except that he will not regain his speech." and thereupon he gave him great thanks, and very joyful was he for that cause. that night they continued to discourse as much as they would, and had minstrelsy and carousing; and when it was more pleasant to them to sleep than to sit longer, they went to rest. and thus was the banquet carried on with joyousness; and when it was finished, matholch journeyed towards ireland, and branwen with him; and they went from aber menei with thirteen ships, and came to ireland. and in ireland was there great joy because of their coming. and not one great man nor noble lady visited branwen unto whom she gave not either a clasp or a ring, or a royal jewel to keep, such as it was honorable to be seen departing with. and in these things she spent that year in much renown, and she passed her time pleasantly, enjoying honor and friendship. and in due time a son was born unto her, and the name that they gave him was gwern, the son of matholch, and they put the boy out to be nursed in a place where were the best men of ireland. and, behold, in the second year a tumult arose in ireland, on account of the insult which matholch had received in wales, and the payment made him for his horses. and his foster-brothers, and such as were nearest to him, blamed him openly for that matter. and he might have no peace by reason of the tumult, until they should revenge upon him this disgrace. and the vengeance which they took was to drive away branwen from the same chamber with him, and to make her cook for the court; and they caused the butcher, after he had cut up the meat, to come to her and give her every day a blow on the ear; and such they made her punishment. "verily, lord," said his men to matholch, "forbid now the ships and the ferry-boats, and the coracles, that they go not into wales, and such as come over from wales hither, imprison them, that they go not back for this thing to be known there." and he did so; and it was thus for no less than three years. and branwen reared a starling in the cover of the kneading-trough, and she taught it to speak, and she taught the bird what manner of man her brother was. and she wrote a letter of her woes, and the despite with which she was treated, and she bound the letter to the root of the bird's wing, and sent it toward wales. and the bird came to that island; and one day it found bendigeid vran at caer seiont in arvon, conferring there, and it alighted upon his shoulder, and ruffled its feathers, so that the letter was seen, and they knew that the bird had been reared in a domestic manner. then bendigeid vran took the letter and looked upon it. and when he had read the letter, he grieved exceedingly at the tidings of branwen's woes. and immediately he began sending messengers to summon the island together. and he caused seven-score and four of his chief men to come unto him, and he complained to them of the grief that his sister endured. so they took counsel. and in the counsel they resolved to go to ireland, and to leave seven men as princes at home, and caradoc, [footnote: caractacus.] the son of bran, as the chief of them. bendigeid vran, with the host of which we spoke, sailed towards ireland; and it was not far across the sea, and he came to shoal water. now the swine-herds of matholch were upon the sea-shore, and they came to matholch. "lord," said they, "greeting be unto thee." "heaven protect you!" said he; "have you any news?" "lord," said they, "we have marvellous news. a wood have we seen upon the sea, in a place where we never yet saw a single tree." "this is indeed a marvel," said he; "saw you aught else?" "we saw, lord," said they, "a vast mountain beside the wood, which moved, and there was a lofty ridge on the top of the mountain, and a lake on each side of the ridge. and the wood and the mountain, and all these things, moved." "verily," said he, "there is none who can know aught concerning this unless it be branwen." messengers then went unto branwen. "lady," said they, "what thinkest thou that this is?" "the men of the island of the mighty, who have come hither on hearing of my ill-treatment and of my woes." "what is the forest that is seen upon the sea?" asked they. "the yards and the masts of ships," she answered. "alas!" said they; "what is the mountain that is seen by the side of the ships?" "bendigeid vran, my brother," she replied, "coming to shoal water, and he is wading to the land." "what is the lofty ridge, with the lake on each side thereof?" "on looking towards this island he is wroth, and his two eyes on each side of his nose are the two lakes on each side of the ridge." the warriors and chief men of ireland were brought together in haste, and they took counsel. "lord," said the neighbors unto matholch, "there is no other counsel than this alone. thou shalt give the kingdom to gwern, the son of branwen his sister, as a compensation for the wrong and despite that have been done unto branwen. and he will make peace with thee." and in the council it was resolved that this message should be sent to bendigeid vran, lest the country should be destroyed. and this peace was made. and matholch caused a great house to be built for bendigeid vran, and his host. thereupon came the hosts into the house. the men of the island of ireland entered the house on the one side, and the men of the island of the mighty on the other. and as soon as they had sat down, there was concord between them; and the sovereignty was conferred upon the boy. when the peace was concluded, bendigeid vran called the boy unto him, and from bendigeid vran the boy went unto manawyddan; and he was beloved by all that beheld him. and from manawyddan the boy was called by nissyen, the son of euroswydd, and the boy went unto him lovingly. "wherefore," said evnissyen, "comes not my nephew, the son of my sister, unto me? though he were not king of ireland, yet willingly would i fondle the boy." "cheerfully let him go to thee," said bendigeid vran; and the boy went unto him cheerfully. "by my confession to heaven," said evnissyen in his heart, "unthought of is the slaughter that i will this instant commit." then he arose and took up the boy, and before any one in the house could seize hold of him he thrust the boy headlong into the blazing fire. and when branwen saw her son burning in the fire, she strove to leap into the fire also, from the place where she sat between her two brothers. but bendigeid vran grasped her with one hand, and his shield with the other. then they all hurried about the house, and never was there made so great a tumult by any host in one house as was made by them, as each man armed himself. and while they all sought their arms bendigeid vran supported branwen between his shield and his shoulder. and they fought. then the irish kindled a fire under the caldron of renovation, and they cast the dead bodies into the caldron until it was full; and the next day they came forth fighting men, as good as before, except that they were not able to speak. then when evnissyen saw the dead bodies of the men of the island of the mighty nowhere resuscitated, he said in his heart, "alas! woe is me, that i should have been the cause of bringing the men of the island of the mighty into so great a strait. evil betide me if i find not a deliverance therefrom." and he cast himself among the dead bodies of the irish; and two unshod irishmen came to him, and, taking him to be one of the irish, flung him into the caldron. and he stretched himself out in the caldron, so that he rent the caldron into four pieces, and burst his own heart also. in consequence of this, the men of the island of the mighty obtained such success as they had; but they were not victorious, for only seven men of them all escaped, and bendigeid vran himself was wounded in the foot with a poisoned dart. now the men that escaped were pryderi, manawyddan, taliesin, and four others. and bendigeid vran commanded them that they should cut off his head. "and take you my head," said he, "and bear it even unto the white mount in london, and bury it there with the face towards france. and so long as it lies there, no enemy shall ever land on the island." so they cut off his head, and these seven went forward therewith. and branwen was the eighth with them. and they came to land on aber alaw, and they sat down to rest. and branwen looked towards ireland, and towards the island of the mighty, to see if she could descry them. "alas!" said she, "woe is me that i was ever born; two islands have been destroyed because of me." then she uttered a groan, and there broke her heart. and they made her a four-sided grave, and buried her upon the banks of the alaw. then the seven men journeyed forward, bearing the head with them; and as they went, behold there met them a multitude of men and women. "have you any tidings?" said manawyddan. "we have none," said they, "save that caswallawn, [footnote: cassivellaunus.] the son of beli, has conquered the island of the mighty, and is crowned king in london." "what has become," said they, "of caradoc, the son of bran, and the seven men who were left with him in this island?" "caswallawn came upon them, and slew six of the men, and caradoc's heart broke for grief thereof." and the seven men journeyed on towards london, and they buried the head in the white mount, as bendigeid vran had directed them. [footnote: there is a triad upon the story of the head buried under the white tower of london, as a charm against invasion. arthur, it seems, proudly disinterred the head, preferring to hold the island by his own strength alone.] chapter x manawyddan pwyll and rhiannon had a son, whom they named pryderi. and when he was grown up, pwyll, his father, died. and pryderi married kicva, the daughter of gwynn gloy. now manawyddan returned from the war in ireland, and he found that his cousin had seized all his possessions, and much grief and heaviness came upon him. "alas! woe is me!" he exclaimed; "there is none save myself without a home and a resting-place." "lord," said pryderi, "be not so sorrowful. thy cousin is king of the island of the mighty, and though he has done thee wrong, thou hast never been a claimant of land or possessions." "yea," answered he, "but although this man is my cousin, it grieveth me to see any one in the place of my brother, bendigeid vran; neither can i be happy in the same dwelling with him." "wilt thou follow the counsel of another?" said pryderi. "i stand in need of counsel," he answered, "and what may that counsel be?" "seven cantrevs belong unto me," said pryderi, "wherein rhiannon, my mother, dwells. i will bestow her upon thee, and the seven cantrevs with her; and though thou hadst no possessions but those cantrevs only, thou couldst not have any fairer than they. do thou and rhiannon enjoy them, and if thou desire any possessions thou wilt not despise these." "i do not, chieftain," said he. "heaven reward thee for the friendship! i will go with thee to seek rhiannon, and to look at thy possessions." "thou wilt do well," he answered; "and i believe that thou didst never hear a lady discourse better than she, and when she was in her prime, none was ever fairer. even now her aspect is not uncomely." they set forth, and, however long the journey, they came at last to dyved; and a feast was prepared for them by rhiannon and kicva. then began manawyddan and rhiannon to sit and to talk together; and his mind and his thoughts became warmed towards her, and he thought in his heart he had never beheld any lady more fulfilled of grace and beauty than she. "pryderi," said he, "i will that it be as thou didst say." "what saying was that?" asked rhiannon. "lady," said pryderi, "i did offer thee as a wife to manawyddan, the son of llyr." "by that will i gladly abide," said rhiannon. "right glad am i also," said manawyddan, "may heaven reward him who hath shown unto me friendship so perfect as this!" and before the feast was over she became his bride. said pryderi, "tarry ye here the rest of the feast, and i will go into england to tender my homage unto caswallawn, the son of beli." "lord," said rhiannon, "caswallawn is in kent; thou mayest therefore tarry at the feast, and wait until he shall be nearer." "we will wait," he answered. so they finished the feast. and they began to make the circuit of dyved, and to hunt, and to take their pleasure. and as they went through the country, they had never seen lands more pleasant to live in, nor better hunting grounds, nor greater plenty of honey and fish. and such was the friendship between these four, that they would not be parted from each other by night nor by day. and in the midst of all this he went to caswallawn at oxford, and tendered his homage; and honorable was his reception there, and highly was he praised for offering his homage. and after his return pryderi and manawyddan feasted and took their ease and pleasure. and they began a feast at narberth, for it was the chief palace. and when they had ended the first meal, while those who served them ate, they arose and went forth, and proceeded to the gorsedd, that is, the mount of narberth, and their retinue with them. and as they sat thus, behold a peal of thunder, and with the violence of the thunder-storm, lo! there came a fall of mist, so thick that not one of them could see the other. and after the mist it became light all around. and when they looked towards the place where they were wont to see the cattle and herds and dwellings, they saw nothing now, neither house, nor beast, nor smoke, nor fire, nor man, nor dwelling, but the buildings of the court empty, and desert, and uninhabited, without either man or beast within them. and truly all their companions were lost to them, without their knowing aught of what had befallen them, save those four only. "in the name of heaven," said manawyddan, "where are they of the court, and all my host beside? let us go and see." so they came to the castle, and saw no man, and into the hall, and to the sleeping-place, and there was none; and in the mead-cellar and in the kitchen there was naught but desolation. then they began to go through the land, and all the possessions that they had; and they visited the houses and dwellings, and found nothing but wild beasts. and when they had consumed their feast and all their provisions, they fed upon the prey they killed in hunting, and the honey of the wild swans. and one morning pryderi and manawyddan rose up to hunt, and they ranged their dogs and went forth. and some of the dogs ran before them, and came to a bush which was near at hand; but as soon as they were come to the bush, they hastily drew back, and returned to the men, their hair bristling up greatly. "let us go near to the bush," said pryderi, "and see what is in it." and as they came near, behold, a wild boar of a pure white color rose up from the bush. then the dogs, being set on by the men, rushed towards him; but he left the bush, and fell back a little way from the men, and made a stand against the dogs, without retreating from them, until the men had come near. and when the men came up, he fell back a second time, and betook him to flight. then they pursued the boar until they beheld a vast and lofty castle, all newly built, in a place where they had never before seen either stone or building. and the boar ran swiftly into the castle, and the dogs after him. now when the boar and the dogs had gone into the castle, the men began to wonder at finding a castle in a place where they had never before seen any building whatsoever. and from the top of the gorsedd they looked and listened for the dogs. but so long as they were there, they heard not one of the dogs, nor aught concerning them. "lord," said pryderi, "i will go into the castle to get tidings of the dogs." "truly," he replied, "thou wouldst be unwise to go into this castle, which thou hast never seen till now. if thou wouldst follow my counsel, thou wouldst not enter therein. whosoever has cast a spell over this land, has caused this castle to be here." "of a truth," answered pryderi, "i cannot thus give up my dogs." and for all the counsel that manawyddan gave him, yet to the castle he went. when he came within the castle, neither man nor beast, nor boar, nor dogs, nor house, nor dwelling, saw he within it. but in the centre of the castle-floor he beheld a fountain with marble-work around it, and on the margin of the fountain a golden bowl upon a marble slab, and chains hanging from the air, to which he saw no end. and he was greatly pleased with the beauty of the gold, and with the rich workmanship of the bowl; and he went up to the bowl, and laid hold of it. and when he had taken hold of its his hands stuck to the bowl, and his feet to the slab on which the bowl was placed; and all his joyousness forsook him, so that he could not utter a word. and thus he stood. and manawyddan waited for him till near the close of the day. and late in the evening, being certain that he should have no tidings of pryderi or the dogs, he went back to the palace. and as he entered, rhiannon looked at him. "where," said she, "are thy companion and thy dogs?" "behold," he answered, "the adventure that has befallen me." and he related it all unto her. "an evil companion hast thou been," said rhiannon, "and a good companion hast thou lost." and with that word she went out, and proceeded towards the castle, according to the direction which he gave her. the gate of the castle she found open. she was nothing daunted, and she went in. and as she went in, she perceived pryderi laying hold of the bowl, and she went towards him. "o my lord," said she, "what dost thou here?" and she took hold of the bowl with him; and as she did so, her hands also became fast to the bowl, and her feet to the slab, and she was not able to utter a word. and with that, as it became night, lo! there came thunder upon them, and a fall of mist; and thereupon the castle vanished, and they with it. when kicva, the daughter of gwynn gloy, saw that there was no one in the palace but herself and manawyddan, she sorrowed so that she cared not whether she lived or died. and manawyddan saw this. "thou art in the wrong," said he, "if through fear of me thou grievest thus. i call heaven to witness that thou hast never seen friendship more pure than that which i will bear thee as long as heaven will that thou shouldst be thus. i declare to thee, that, were i in the dawn of youth, i would keep my faith unto pryderi, and unto thee also will i keep it. be there no fear upon thee, therefore." "heaven reward thee!" she said; "and that is what i deemed of thee." and the damsel thereupon took courage, and was glad. "truly, lady," said manawyddan, "it is not fitting for us to stay here; we have lost our dogs, and cannot get food. let us go into england; it is easiest for us to find support there." "gladly, lord," said she, "we will do so." and they set forth together to england. "lord," said she, "what craft wilt thou follow? take up one that is seemly." "none other will i take," answered he, "but that of making shoes." "lord," said she, "such a craft becomes not a man so nobly born as thou." "by that however will i abide," said he. "i know nothing thereof," said kicva. "but i know," answered manawyddan, "and i will teach thee to stitch. we will not attempt to dress the leather, but we will buy it ready dressed, and will make the shoes from it." so they went into england, and went as far as hereford; and they betook themselves to making shoes. and he began by buying the best cordwain that could be had in the town, and none other would buy. and he associated himself with the best goldsmith in the town, and caused him to make clasps for the shoes, and to gild the clasps; and he marked how it was done until he learned the method. and therefore is he called one of the three makers of gold shoes. and when they could be had from him, not a shoe nor hose was bought of any of the cordwainers in the town. but when the cordwainers perceived that their gains were failing (for as manawyddan shaped the work, so kicva stitched it), they came together and took counsel, and agreed that they would slay them. and he had warning thereof, and it was told him how the cordwainers had agreed together to slay him. "lord," said kicva, "wherefore should this be borne from these boors?" "nay," said he, "we will go back unto dyved." so towards dyved they set forth. now manawyddan, when he set out to return to dyved, took with him a burden of wheat. and he proceeded towards narberth, and there he dwelt. and never was he better pleased than when he saw narberth again, and the lands where he had been wont to hunt with pryderi and with rhiannon. and he accustomed himself to fish, and to hunt the deer in their covert. and then he began to prepare some ground, and he sowed a croft, and a second, and a third. and no wheat in the world ever sprung up better. and the three crofts prospered with perfect growth, and no man ever saw fairer wheat than it. and thus passed the seasons of the year until the harvest came. and he went to look at one of his crofts, and, behold, it was ripe. "i will reap this to-morrow," said he. and that night he went back to narberth, and on the morrow, in the gray dawn, he went to reap the croft; and when he came there, he found nothing but the bare straw. every one of the ears of the wheat was cut off from the stalk, and all the ears carried entirely away, and nothing but the straw left. and at this he marvelled greatly. then he went to look at another croft, and, behold, that also was ripe. "verily," said he, "this will i reap to-morrow." and on the morrow he came with the intent to reap it; and when he came there, he found nothing but the bare straw. "o gracious heaven!" he exclaimed. "i know that whosoever has begun my ruin is completing it, and has also destroyed the country with me." then he went to look at the third croft; and when he came there, finer wheat had there never been seen, and this also was ripe. "evil betide me," said he, "if i watch not here to-night. whoever carried off the other corn will come in like manner to take this, and i will know who it is." and he told kicva all that had befallen. "verily," said she, "what thinkest thou to do?" "i will watch the croft to-night," said he. and he went to watch the croft. and at midnight he heard something stirring among the wheat; and he looked, and behold, the mightiest host of mice in the world, which could neither be numbered nor measured. and he knew not what it was until the mice had made their way into the croft, and each of them, climbing up the straw, and bending it down with its weight, had cut off one of the ears of wheat, and had carried it away, leaving there the stalk; and he saw not a single straw there that had not a mouse to it. and they all took their way, carrying the ears with them. in wrath and anger did he rush upon the mice; but he could no more come up with them than if they had been gnats or birds of the air, except one only, which, though it was but sluggish, went so fast that a man on foot could scarce overtake it. and after this one he went, and he caught it, and put it in his glove, and tied up the opening of the glove with a string, and kept it with him, and returned to the palace. then he came to the hall where kicva was, and he lighted a fire, and hung the glove by the string upon a peg. "what hast thou there, lord?" said kicva. "a thief," said he, "that i found robbing me." "what kind of a thief may it be, lord, that thou couldst put into thy glove?" said she. then he told her how the mice came to the last of the fields in his sight. "and one of them was less nimble than the rest, and is now in my glove; to- morrow i will hang it." "my lord," said she, "this is marvellous; but yet it would be unseemly for a man of dignity like thee to be hanging such a reptile as this." "woe betide me," said he, "if i would not hang them all, could i catch them, and such as i have i will hang." "verily, lord," said she, "there is no reason that i should succor this reptile, except to prevent discredit unto thee. do therefore, lord, as thou wilt." then he went to the mound of narberth, taking the mouse with him. and he set up two forks on the highest part of the mound. and while he was doing this, behold, he saw a scholar coming towards him, in old and poor and tattered garments. and it was now seven years since he had seen in that place either man or beast, except those four persons who had remained together until two of them were lost. "my lord," said the scholar, "good-day to thee." "heaven prosper thee, and my greeting be unto thee! and whence dost thou come, scholar?" asked he. "i come, lord, from singing in england; and wherefore dost thou inquire?" "because for the last seven years," answered he, "i have seen no man here save four secluded persons, and thyself this moment." "truly, lord," said he, "i go through this land unto mine own. and what work art thou upon, lord?" "i am hanging a thief that i caught robbing me," said he. "what manner of thief is that?" asked the scholar. "i see a creature in thy hand like unto a mouse, and ill does it become a man of rank equal to thine to touch a reptile such as this. let it go forth free." "i will not let it go free, by heaven," said he; "i caught it robbing me, and the doom of a thief will i inflict upon it, and i will hang it." "lord," said he, "rather than see a man of rank equal to thine at such a work as this, i would give thee a pound, which i have received as alms, to let the reptile go forth free." "i will not let it go free," said he, "neither will i sell it." "as thou wilt, lord," he answered; "i care naught." and the scholar went his way. and as he was placing the cross-beam upon the two forks, behold, a priest came towards him, upon a horse covered with trappings. "good day to thee, lord," said he. "heaven prosper thee!" said manawyddan; "thy blessing." "the blessing of heaven be upon thee! and what, lord, art thou doing?" "i am hanging a thief that i caught robbing me," said he. "what manner of thief, lord?" asked he. "a creature," he answered, "in form of a mouse. it has been robbing me, and i am inflicting upon it the doom of a thief." "lord," said he, "rather than see thee touch this reptile, i would purchase its freedom." "by my confession to heaven, neither will i sell it nor set it free." "it is true, lord, that it is worth nothing to buy; but rather than see thee defile thyself by touching such a reptile as this, i will give thee three pounds to let it go." "i will not, by heaven," said he, "take any price for it. as it ought, so shall it be hanged." and the priest went his way. then he noosed the string around the mouse's neck, and as he was about to draw it up, behold, he saw a bishop's retinue, with his sumpter-horses and his attendants. and the bishop himself came towards him. and he stayed his work. "lord bishop," said he, "thy blessing." "heaven's blessing be unto thee!" said he. "what work art thou upon?" "hanging a thief that i caught robbing me," said he. "is not that a mouse that i see in thy hand?" "yes," answered he, "and she has robbed me." "ay," said he, "since i have come at the doom of this reptile i will ransom it of thee. i will give thee seven pounds for it, and that rather than see a man of rank equal to thine destroying so vile a reptile as this. let it loose, and thou shalt have the money." "i declare to heaven that i will not let it loose." "if thou wilt not loose it for this, i will give thee four and twenty pounds of ready money to set it free." "i will not set it free, by heaven, for as much again," said he. "if thou wilt not set it free for this, i will give thee all the horses that thou seest in this plain, and the seven loads of baggage, and the seven horses that they are upon." "by heaven, i will not," he replied. "since for this thou wilt not set it free, do so at what price soever thou wilt." "i will that rhiannon and pryderi be free," said he. "that thou shalt have," he answered. "not yet will i loose the mouse, by heaven." "what then wouldst thou?" "that the charm and the illusion be removed from the seven cantrevs of dyved." "this shalt thou have also; set therefore the mouse free." "i will not set it free, by heaven," said he, "till i know who the mouse may be." "she is my wife." "wherefore came she to me?" "to despoil thee," he answered. "i am lloyd, the son of kilwed, and i cast the charm over the seven cantrevs of dyved. and it was to avenge gawl, the son of clud, from the friendship i had towards him, that i cast the charm. and upon pryderi did i avenge gawl, the son of clud, for the game of badger in the bag, that pwyll, the son of auwyn, played upon him. and when it was known that thou wast come to dwell in the land, my household came and besought me to transform them into mice, that they might destroy thy corn. and they went the first and the second night, and destroyed thy two crops. and the third night came unto me my wife and the ladies of the court, and besought me to transform them. and i transformed them. now she is not in her usual health. and had she been in her usual health, thou wouldst not have been able to overtake her; but since this has taken place, and she has been caught, i will restore to thee pryderi and rhiannon, and i will take the charm and illusion from off dyved. set her therefore free." "i will not set her free yet." "what wilt thou more?" he asked. "i will that there be no more charm upon the seven cantrevs of dyved, and that none shall be put upon it henceforth; moreover, that vengeance be never taken for this, either upon pryderi or rhiannon, or upon me." "all this shalt thou have. and truly thou hast done wisely in asking this. upon thy head would have lit all this trouble." "yea," said he, "for fear thereof was it that i required this." "set now my wife at liberty." "i will not," said he, "until i see pryderi and rhiannon with me free." "behold, here they come," he answered. and thereupon behold pryderi and rhiannon. and he rose up to meet them, and greeted them, and sat down beside them. "ah, chieftain, set now my wife at liberty," said the bishop. "hast thou not received all thou didst ask?" "i will release her, gladly," said he. and thereupon he set her free. then he struck her with a magic wand, and she was changed back into a young woman, the fairest ever seen. "look round upon thy land," said he, "and thou wilt see it all tilled and peopled as it was in its best estate." and he rose up and looked forth. and when he looked he saw all the lands tilled, and full of herds and dwellings. and thus ends this portion of the mabinogi. the following allusions to the preceding story are found in a letter of the poet southey to john rickman, esq., dated june th, : "you will read the mabinogeon, concerning which i ought to have talked to you. in the last, that most odd and arabian-like story of the mouse, mention is made of a begging scholar, that helps to the date; but where did the cymri get the imagination that could produce such a tale? that enchantment of the basin hanging by the chain from heaven is in the wildest spirit of the arabian nights. i am perfectly astonished that such fictions should exist in welsh. they throw no light on the origin of romance, everything being utterly dissimilar to what we mean by that term, but they do open a new world of fiction; and if the date of their language be fixed about the twelfth or thirteenth century, i cannot but think the mythological substance is of far earlier date; very probably brought from the east by some of the first settlers or conquerors." chapter xi kilwich and olwen kilydd, a son of prince kelyddon, desired a wife as a helpmate, and the wife that he chose was goleudid, the daughter of prince anlawd. and after their union the people put up prayers that they might have an heir. and they had a son through the prayers of the people; and called his name kilwich. after this the boy's mother, goleudid, the daughter of prince anlawd, fell sick. then she called her husband to her, and said to him, "of this sickness i shall die, and thou wilt take another wife. now wives are the gift of the lord, but it would be wrong for thee to harm thy son. therefore i charge thee that thou take not a wife until thou see a briar with two blossoms upon my grave." and this he promised her. then she besought him to dress her grave every year, that no weeds might grow thereon. so the queen died. now the king sent an attendant every morning to see if anything were growing upon the grave. and at the end of the seventh year they neglected that which they had promised to the queen. one day the king went to hunt; and he rode to the place of burial, to see the grave, and to know if it were time that he should take a wife: and the king saw the briar. and when he saw it, the king took counsel where he should find a wife. said one of his counsellors, "i know a wife that will suit thee well; and she is the wife of king doged." and they resolved to go to seek her; and they slew the king, and brought away his wife. and they conquered the kings' lands. and he married the widow of king doged, the sister of yspadaden penkawr. and one day his stepmother said to kilwich, "it were well for thee to have a wife." "i am not yet of an age to wed," answered the youth. then said she unto him, "i declare to thee that it is thy destiny not to be suited with a wife until thou obtain olwen, the daughter of yspadaden penkawr." and the youth blushed, and the love of the maiden diffused itself through all his frame, although he had never seen her. and his father inquired of him, "what has come over thee, my son, and what aileth thee?" "my stepmother has declared to me that i shall never have a wife until i obtain olwen, the daughter of yspadaden penkawr." "that will be easy for thee," answered his father. "arthur is thy cousin. go, therefore, unto arthur, to cut thy hair, and ask this of him as a boon." and the youth pricked forth upon a steed with head dappled gray, four winters old, firm of limb, with shell-formed hoofs, having a bridle of linked gold on his head, and upon him a saddle of costly gold. and in the youth's hand were two spears of silver, sharp, well-tempered, headed with steel, three ells in length, of an edge to wound the wind, and cause blood to flow, and swifter than the fall of the dew-drop from the blade of reed-grass, when the dew of june is at the heaviest. a gold-hilted sword was upon his thigh, the blade of which was gilded, bearing a cross of inlaid gold of the hue of the lightning of heaven. his war-horn was of ivory. before him were two brindled, white-breasted greyhounds, having strong collars of rubies about their necks, reaching from the shoulder to the ear. and the one that was upon the left side bounded across to the right side, and the one on the right to the left, and, like two sea-swallows, sported around him. and his courser cast up four sods, with his four hoofs, like four swallows in the air, about his head, now above, now below. about him was a four-cornered cloth of purple, and an apple of gold was at each corner, and every one of the apples was of the value of an hundred kine. and there was precious gold of the value of three hundred kine upon his shoes, and upon his stirrups, from his knee to the tip of his toe. and the blade of grass bent not beneath him, so light was his courser's tread, as he journeyed toward the gate of arthur's palace. spoke the youth: "is there a porter?" "there is; and if thou holdest not thy peace, small will be thy welcome. i am arthur's porter every first day of january." "open the portal." "i will not open it." "wherefore not?" "the knife is in the meat, and the drink is in the horn, and there is revelry in arthur's hall; and none may enter therein but the son of a king of a privileged country, or a craftsman bringing his craft. but there will be refreshment for thy dogs and for thy horse; and for thee there will be collops cooked and peppered, and luscious wine, and mirthful songs; and food for fifty men shall be brought unto thee in the guest-chamber, where the stranger and the sons of other countries eat, who come not into the precincts of the palace of arthur. thou wilt fare no worse there than thou wouldst with arthur in the court. a lady shall smooth thy couch, and shall lull thee with songs; and early to-morrow morning, when the gate is open for the multitude that came hither to-day, for thee shall it be opened first, and thou mayest sit in the place that thou shalt choose in arthur's hall, from the upper end to the lower." said the youth: "that will i not do. if thou openest the gate, it is well. if thou dost not open it, i will bring disgrace upon thy lord, and evil report upon thee. and i will set up three shouts at this very gate, than which none were ever heard more deadly." "what clamor soever thou mayest make," said glewlwyd, the porter, "against the laws of arthur's palace, shalt thou not enter therein, until i first go and speak with arthur." then glewlwyd went into the hall. and arthur said to him, "hast thou news from the gate?" "half of my life is passed," said glewlwyd, "and half of thine. i was heretofore in kaer se and asse, in sach and salach, in lotor and fotor, and i have been in india the great and india the lesser, and i have also been in europe and africa, and in the islands of corsica, and i was present when thou didst conquer greece in the east. nine supreme sovereigns, handsome men, saw we there, but never did i behold a man of equal dignity with him who is now at the door of the portal." then said arthur: "if walking thou didst enter here, return thou running. it is unbecoming to keep such a man as thou sayest he is in the wind and the rain." said kay: "by the hand of my friend, if thou wouldst follow my counsel, thou wouldst not break through the laws of the court because of him." "not so, blessed kay," said arthur; "it is an honor to us to be resorted to, and the greater our courtesy, the greater will be our renown and our fame and our glory." and glewlwyd came to the gate, and opened the gate before kilwich: and although all dismounted upon the horse-block at the gate, yet did he not dismount, but he rode in upon his charger. then said he, "greeting be unto thee, sovereign ruler of this island, and be this greeting no less unto the lowest than unto the highest, and be it equally unto thy guests, and thy warriors, and thy chieftains; let all partake of it as completely as thyself. and complete be thy favor, and thy fame, and thy glory, throughout all this island." "greeting unto thee also," said arthur; "sit thou between two of my warriors, and thou shalt have minstrels before thee, and thou shalt enjoy the privileges of a king born to a throne, as long as thou remainest here. and when i disperse my presents to the visitors and strangers in this court, they shall be in thy hand at my commencing." said the youth, "i came not here to consume meat and drink; but if i obtain the boon that i seek, i will requite it thee, and extol thee; but if i have it not, i will bear forth thy dispraise to the four quarters of the world, as far as thy renown has extended." then said arthur, "since thou wilt not remain here, chieftain, thou shalt receive the boon, whatsoever thy tongue may name, as far as the wind dries, and the rain moistens, and the sun revolves, and the sea encircles, and the earth extends; save only my ship prydwen, and my mantle, and caliburn, my sword, and rhongomyant, my lance, and guenever, my wife. by the truth of heaven, thou shalt have it cheerfuly, name what thou wilt." "i would that thou bless my hair," said he. "that shall be granted thee." and arthur took a golden comb, and scissors whereof the loops were of silver, and he combed his hair. and arthur inquired of him who he was; "for my heart warms unto thee, and i know that thou art come of my blood. tell me, therefore, who thou art." "i will tell thee," said the youth. "i am kilwich, the son of kilydd, the son of prince kelyddon, by goleudyd, my mother, the daughter of prince anlawd." "that is true," said arthur; "thou art my cousin. whatsoever boon thou mayest ask, thou shalt receive, be it what it may that thy tongue shall name." "pledge the truth of heaven and the faith of thy kingdom thereof." "i pledge it thee gladly." "i crave of thee, then, that thou obtain for me olwen, the daughter of yspadaden penkawr, to wife; and this boon i likewise seek at the hands of thy warriors. i seek it from kay and from bedwyr; and from gwynn, the son of nudd, and gadwy, the son of geraint, and prince flewddur flam and iona, king of france, and sel, the son of selgi, and taliesin, the chief of the bards, and geraint, the son of erbin, garanwyn, the son of kay, and amren, the son of bedwyr, ol, the son of olwyd, bedwin, the bishop, guenever, the chief lady, and guenhywach, her sister, morved, the daughter of urien, and gwenlian deg, the majestic maiden, creiddylad, [footnote: creiddylad is no other than shakspeare's cordelia, whose father, king lear, is by the welsh authorities called indiscriminately llyr or lludd. all the old chronicles give the story of her devotion to her aged parent, but none of them seem to have been aware that she is destined to remain with him till the day of doom, whilst gwyn ap nudd, the king of the fairies, and gwythyr op greidiol, fight for her every first of may, and whichever of them may be fortunate enough to be the conqueror at that time will obtain her as a bride.] the daughter of lludd, the constant maiden, and ewaedah, the daughter of kynvelyn, [footnote: the welsh have a fable on the subject of the half man, taken to be illustrative of the force of habit. in this allegory arthur is supposed to be met by a sprite, who appears at first in a small and indistinct form, but who, on approaching nearer, increases in size, and, assuming the semblance of half a man, endeavors to provoke the king to wrestle. despising his weakness, and considering that he should gain no credit by the encounter, arthur refuses to do so, and delays the contest until at length the half man (habit) becomes so strong that it requires his utmost efforts to overcome him.] the half-man." all these did kilwich, the son of kilydd, adjure to obtain his boon. then said arthur, "o chieftain, i have never heard of the maiden of whom thou speakest, nor of her kindred, but i will gladly send messengers in search of her. give me time to seek her." and the youth said, "i will willingly grant from this night to that at the end of the year to do so." then arthur sent messengers to every land within his dominions to seek for the maiden, and at the end of the year arthur's messengers returned without having gained any knowledge or intelligence concerning olwen, more than on the first day. then said kilwich, "every one has received his boon, and i yet lack mine. i will depart, and bear away thy honor with me." then said kay, "rash chieftain! dost thou reproach arthur? go with us, and we will not part until thou dost either confess that the maiden exists not in the world, or until we obtain her." thereupon kay rose up. and arthur called bedwyr, who never shrank from any enterprise upon which kay was bound. none were equal to him in swiftness throughout this island except arthur alone; and although he was one handed; three warriors could not shed blood faster than he on the field of battle. and arthur called to kyndelig, the guide, "go thou upon this expedition with the chieftain." for as good a guide was he in a land which he had never seen as he was in his own. he called gurhyr gwalstat, because he knew all tongues. he called gawain, the son of gwyar, because he never returned home without achieving the adventure of which he went in quest. and arthur called meneu, the son of teirgwed, in order that, if they went into a savage country, he might cast a charm and an illusion over them, so that none might see them, whilst they could see every one. they journeyed until they came to a vast open plain, wherein they saw a great castle, which was the fairest of the castles of the world. and when they came before the castle, they beheld a vast flock of sheep. and upon the top of a mound there was a herdsman keeping the sheep. and a rug made of skins was upon him, and by his side was a shaggy mastiff, larger than a steed nine winters old. then said kay, "gurhyr gwalstat, go thou and salute yonder man." "kay," said he, "i engaged not to go further than thou thyself." "let us go then together." answered kay. said meneu, "fear not to go thither, for i will cast a spell upon the dog, so that he shall injure no one." and they went up to the mound whereon the herdsman was, and they said to him, "how dost thou fare, herdsman?" "not less fair be it to you than to me." "whose are the sheep that thou dost keep, and to whom does yonder castle belong?" "stupid are ye, truly! not to know that this is the castle of yspadaden penkawr. and ye also, who are ye?" "we are an embassy from arthur, come to seek olwen, the daughter of yspadaden penkawr." "o men! the mercy of heaven be upon you; do not that for all the world. none who ever came hither on this quest has returned alive." and the herdsman rose up. and as he rose kilwich gave unto him a ring of gold. and he went home and gave the ring to his spouse to keep. and she took the ring when it was given her, and she said, "whence came this ring, for thou art not wont to have good fortune." "o wife, him to whom this ring belonged thou shalt see here this evening." "and who is he?" asked the woman. "kilwich, the son of kilydd, by goleudid, the daughter of prince anlawd, who is come to seek olwen as his wife." and when she heard that, she had joy that her nephew, the son of her sister, was coming to her, and sorrow, because she had never known any one depart alive who had come on that quest. and the men went forward to the gate of the herdsman's dwelling. and when she heard their footsteps approaching, she ran out with joy to meet them. and kay snatched a billet out of the pile. and when she met them, she sought to throw her arms about their necks. and kay placed the log between her two hands, and she squeezed it so that it became a twisted coil. "o woman," said kay, "if thou hadst squeezed me thus, none could ever again have set their affections on me. evil love were this." they entered into the house and were served; and soon after, they all went forth to amuse themselves. then the woman opened a stone chest that was before the chimney-corner, and out of it arose a youth with yellow, curling hair. said gurhyr, "it is a pity to hide this youth. i know that it is not his own crime that is thus visited upon him." "this is but a remnant," said the woman. "three and twenty of my sons has yspadaden penkawr slain, and i have no more hope of this one than of the others." then said kay, "let him come and be a companion with me, and he shall not be slain unless i also am slain with him." and they ate. and the woman asked them, "upon what errand come you here?" "we come to seek olwen for this youth." then said the woman, "in the name of heaven, since no one from the castle hath yet seen you, return again whence you came." "heaven is our witness, that we will not return until we have seen the maiden. does she ever come hither, so that she may be seen?" "she comes here every saturday to wash her head, and in the vessel where she washes she leaves all her rings, and she never either comes herself or sends any messengers to fetch them." "will she come here if she is sent to?" "heaven knows that i will not destroy my soul, nor will i betray those that trust me; unless you will pledge me your faith that you will not harm her, i will not send to her." "we pledge it," said they. so a message was sent, and she came. the maiden was clothed in a robe of flame-colored silk, and about her neck was a collar of ruddy gold, on which were precious emeralds and rubies. more yellow was her head than the flower of the broom, [footnote: the romancers dwell with great complacency on the fair hair and delicate complexion of their heroines. this taste continued for a long time, and to render the hair light was an object of education. even when wigs came into fashion they were all flaxen. such was the color of the hair of the gauls and of their german conquerors. it required some centuries to reconcile their eyes to the swarthy beauties of their spanish and italian neighbors.] and her skin was whiter than the foam of the wave, and fairer were her hands and her fingers than the blossoms of the wood-anemone amidst the spray of the meadow fountain. the eye of the trained hawk was not brighter than hers. her bosom was more snowy than the breast of the white swan, her cheek was redder than the reddest roses. whoso beheld her was filled with her love. four white trefoils sprung up wherever she trod. and therefore was she called olwen. she entered the house and sat beside kilwich upon the foremost bench; and as soon as he saw her, he knew her. and kilwich said unto her, "ah! maiden, thou art she whom i have loved; come away with me, lest they speak evil of thee and of me. many a day have i loved thee." "i cannot do this, for i have pledged my faith to my father not to go without his counsel, for his life will last only until the time of my espousals. whatever is to be, must be. but i will give thee advice, if thou wilt take it. go, ask me of my father, and that which he shall require of thee, grant it, and thou wilt obtain me; but if thou deny him anything, thou wilt not obtain me, and it will be well for thee if thou escape with thy life." "i promise all this, if occasion offer," said he. she returned to her chamber, and they all rose up, and followed her to the castle. and they slew the nine porters, that were at the nine gates, in silence. and they slew the nine watch-dogs without one of them barking. and they went forward to the hall. "the greeting of heaven and of man be unto thee, yspadaden penkawr," said they. "and you, wherefore come you?" "we come to ask thy daughter olwen for kilwich, the son of kilydd, the son of prince kelyddon." "where are my pages and my servants? raise up the forks beneath my two eyebrows, which have fallen over my eyes, that i may see the fashion of my son-in-law." and they did so. "come hither to-morrow, and you shall have an answer." they rose to go forth, and yspadaden penkawr seized one of the three poisoned darts that lay beside him, and threw it after them. and bedwyr caught it, and flung it, and pierced yspadaden penkawr grievously with it through the knee. then he said, "a cursed ungentle son-in-law, truly! i shall ever walk the worse for his rudeness, and shall ever be without a cure. this poisoned iron pains me like the bite of a gad-fly. cursed be the smith who forged it, and the anvil on which it was wrought! so sharp is it!" that night also they took up their abode in the house of the herdsman. the next day, with the dawn, they arrayed themselves and proceeded to the castle, and entered the hall; and they said, "yspadaden penkawr, give us thy daughter in consideration of her dower and her maiden fee, which we will pay to thee, and to her two kinswomen likewise." then he said, "her four great- grandmothers and her four great-grandsires are yet alive; it is needful that i take counsel of them." "be it so," they answered, "we will go to meat." as they rose up he took the second dart that was beside him, and cast it after them. and meneu, the son of gawedd, caught it, and flung it back at him, and wounded him in the centre of the breast. "a cursed ungentle son-in-law, truly!" said he; "the hard iron pains me like the bite of a horse-leech. cursed be the hearth whereon it was heated, and the smith who formed it! so sharp is it! henceforth, whenever i go up hill, i shall have a scant in my breath, and a pain in my chest, and i shall often loathe my food." and they went to meat. and the third day they returned to the palace. and yspadaden penkawr said to them, "shoot not at me again unless you desire death. where are my attendants? lift up the forks of my eyebrows, which have fallen over my eyeballs, that i may see the fashion of my son-in-law." then they arose, and, as they did so, yspadaden penkawr took the third poisoned dart and cast it at them. and kilwich caught it, and threw it vigorously, and wounded him through the eyeball. "a cursed ungentle son-in-law, truly! as long as i remain alive, my eyesight will be the worse. whenever i go against the wind, my eyes will water; and peradventure my head will burn, and i shall have a giddiness every new moon. like the bite of a mad dog is the stroke of this poisoned iron. cursed be the fire in which it was forged!" and they went to meat. and the next day they came again to the palace, and they said, "shoot not at us any more, unless thou desirest such hurt and harm and torture as thou now hast, and even more." said kilwich, "give me thy daughter; and if thou wilt not give her, thou shalt receive thy death because of her." "where is he that seeks my daughter? come hither where i may see thee." and they placed him a chair face to face with him. said yspadaden penkawr, "is it thou that seekest my daughter?" "it is i," answered kilwich. "i must have thy pledge that thou wilt not do toward me otherwise than is just; and when i have gotten that which i shall name, my daughter thou shalt have." "i promise thee that willingly," said kilwich; "name what thou wilt." "i will do so," said he. "seest thou yonder red tilled ground?" "i see it." "when first i met the mother of this maiden, nine bushels of flax were sown therein, and none has yet sprung up, white nor black. i require to have the flax to sow in the new land yonder, that when it grows up it may make a white wimple for my daughter's head on the day of thy wedding." "it will be easy for me to compass this, although thou mayest think it will not be easy." "though thou get this, there is yet that which thou wilt not get-- the harp of teirtu, to play to us that night. when a man desires that it should play, it does so of itself; and when he desires that it should cease, it ceases. and this he will not give of his own free will, and thou wilt not be able to compel him." "it will be easy for me to compass this, although thou mayest think it will not be easy." "though thou get this, there is yet that which thou wilt not get. i require thee to get me for my huntsman mabon, the son of modron. he was taken from his mother when three nights old, and it is not known where he now is, nor whether he is living or dead." "it will be easy for me to compass this, although thou mayest think it will not be easy." "though thou get this, there is yet that which thou wilt not get-- the two cubs of the wolf gast rhymhi; no leash in the world will hold them, but a leash made from the beard of dillus varwawc, the robber. and the leash will be of no avail unless it be plucked from his beard while he is alive. while he lives he will not suffer this to be done to him, and the leash will be of no use should he be dead, because it will be brittle." "it will be easy for me to compass this, although thou mayest think it will not be easy." "though thou get this, there is yet that which thou wilt not get-- the sword of gwernach the giant; of his own free will he will not give it, and thou wilt never be able to compel him." "it will be easy for me to compass this, although thou mayest think it will not be easy." "though thou get this, there is yet that which thou wilt not get. difficulties shalt thou meet with, and nights without sleep, in seeking this, and if thou obtain it not, neither shalt thou obtain my daughter." "horses shall i have, and chivalry; and my lord and kinsman, arthur, will obtain for me all these things. and i shall gain thy daughter, and thou shalt lose thy life." "go forward. and thou shalt not be chargeable for food or raiment for my daughter while thou art seeking these things; and when thou hast compassed all these marvels, thou shalt have my daughter for thy wife." chapter xii kilwich and olwen (continued) all that day they journeyed until the evening, and then they beheld a vast castle, which was the largest in the world. and lo! a black man, larger than three of the men of this world, came out from the castle. and they spoke unto him, and said, "o man, whose castle is that?" "stupid are ye, truly, o men! there is no one in the world that does not know that this is the castle of gwernach the giant." "what treatment is there for guests and strangers that alight in that castle?" "o chieftain, heaven protect thee! no guests ever returned thence alive, and no one may enter therein unless he brings with him his craft." then they proceeded towards the gate. said gurhyr gwalstat, "is there a porter?" "there is; wherefore dost thou call?" "open the gate." "i will not open it." "wherefore wilt thou not?" "the knife is in the meat, and the drink is in the horn, and there is revelry in the hall of gwernach the giant; and except for a craftsman who brings his craft, the gate will not be opened to-night." "verily, porter," then said kay, "my craft bring i with me." "what is thy craft?" "the best burnisher of swords am i in the world." "i will go and tell this unto gwernach the giant, and i will bring thee an answer." so the porter went in, and gwernach said to him, "hast thou news from the gate?" "i have. there is a party at the door of the gate who desire to come in." "didst thou inquire of them if they possessed any art?" "i did inquire," said he, "and one told me that he was well skilled in the burnishing of swords." "we have need of him then. for some time have i sought for some one to polish my sword, and could find no one. let this man enter, since he brings with him his craft." the porter thereupon returned and opened the gate. and kay went in by himself, and he saluted gwernach the giant. and a chair was placed for him opposite to gwernach. and gwernach said to him, "o man, is it true that is reported of thee, that thou knowest how to burnish swords?" "i know full well how to do so," answered kay. then was the sword of gwernach brought to him. and kay took a blue whetstone from under his arm, and asked whether he would have it burnished white or blue. "do with it as it seems good to thee, or as thou wouldst if it were thine own." then kay polished one half of the blade, and put it in his hand. "will this please thee?" asked he. "i would rather than all that is in my dominions that the whole of it were like this. it is a marvel to me that such a man as thou should be without a companion." "o noble sir, i have a companion, albeit he is not skilled in this art." "who may he be?" "let the porter go forth, and i will tell him whereby he may know him. the head of his lance will leave its shaft, and draw blood from the wind, and will descend upon its shaft again." then the gate was opened, and bedwyr entered. and kay said, "bedwyr is very skilful, though he knows not this art." and there was much discourse among those who were without, because that kay and bedwyr had gone in. and a young man who was with them, the only son of the herdsman, got in also; and he contrived to admit all the rest, but they kept themselves concealed. the sword was now polished, and kay gave it unto the hand of gwernach the giant, to see if he were pleased with his work. and the giant said, "the work is good; i am content therewith." said kay, "it is thy scabbard that hath rusted thy sword; give it to me, that i may take out the wooden sides of it, and put in new ones." and he took the scabbard from him, and the sword in the other hand. and he came and stood over against the giant, as if he would have put the sword into the scabbard; and with it he struck at the head of the giant, and cut off his head at one blow. then they despoiled the castle, and took from it what goods and jewels they would. and they returned to arthur's court, bearing with them the sword of gwernach the giant. and when they told arthur how they had sped, arthur said, "it is a good beginning." then they took counsel, and said, "which of these marvels will it be best for us to seek next?" "it will be best," said one, "to seek mabon, the son of modron; and he will not be found unless we first find eidoel, the son of aer, his kinsman." then arthur rose up, and the warriors of the island of britain with him, to seek for eidoel; and they proceeded until they came to the castle of glivi, where eidoel was imprisoned. glivi stood on the summit of his castle, and he said, "arthur, what requirest thou of me, since nothing remains to me in this fortress, and i have neither joy nor pleasure in it, neither wheat nor oats? seek not, therefore, to do me harm." said arthur, "not to injure thee came i hither, but to seek for the prisoner that is with thee." "i will give thee my prisoner, though i had not thought to give him up to any one, and therewith shalt thou have my support and my aid." his followers said unto arthur, "lord, go thou home, thou canst not proceed with thy host in quest of such small adventures as these." then said arthur, "it were well for thee, gurhyr gwalstat, to go upon this quest, for thou knowest all languages, and art familiar with those of the birds and the beasts. thou, eidoel, oughtest likewise to go with thy men in search of thy cousin. and as for you, kay and bedwyr, i have hope of whatever adventure ye are in quest of, that ye will achieve it. achieve ye this adventure for me." they went forward until they came to the ousel of cilgwri. and gurhyr adjured her, saying, "tell me if thou knowest aught of mabon, the son of modron, who was taken when three nights old from between his mother and the wall?" and the ousel answered, "when i first came here, there was a smith's anvil in this place, and i was then a young bird; and from that time no work has been done upon it, save the pecking of my beak every evening; and now there is not so much as the size of a nut remaining thereof; yet during all that time i have never heard of the man for whom you inquire. nevertheless, i will do that which it is fitting that i should for an embassy from arthur. there is a race of animals who were formed before me, and i will be your guide to them." so they proceeded to the place where was the stag of redynvre. "stag of redynvre, behold, we are come to thee, an embassy from arthur, for we have not heard of any animal older than thou. say, knowest thou aught of mabon, the son of modron, who was taken from his mother when three nights old?" the stag said, "when first i came hither there was a plain all around me, without any trees save one oak sapling, which grew up to be an oak with an hundred branches; and that oak has since perished, so that now nothing remains of it but the withered stump; and from that day to this i have been here, yet have i never heard of the man for whom you inquire. nevertheless, being an embassy from arthur, i will be your guide to the place where there is an animal which was formed before i was, and the oldest animal in the world, and the one that has travelled most, the eagle of gwern abwy." gurhyr said, "eagle of gwern abwy, we have come to thee, an embassy from arthur, to ask thee if thou knowest aught of mabon, the son of modron, who was taken from his mother when he was three nights old?" the eagle said, "i have been here for a great space of time, and when i first came hither, there was a rock here from the top of which i pecked at the stars every evening; and it has crumbled away, and now it is not so much as a span high. all that time i have been here, and i have never heard of the man for whom you inquire, except once when i went in search of food as far as llyn llyw. and when i came there, i struck my talons into a salmon, thinking he would serve me as food for a long time. but he drew me into the water, and i was scarcely able to escape from him. after that i made peace with him. and i drew fifty fish- spears out of his back, and relieved him. unless he know something of him whom you seek, i cannot tell who may. however, i will guide you to the place where he is." so they went thither; and the eagle said, "salmon of llyn llyw, i have come to thee with an embassy from arthur, to ask thee if thou knowest aught of mabon, the son of modron, who was taken away at three nights old from his mother." "as much as i know i will tell thee. with every tide i go along the river upward, until i come near to the walls of gloucester, and there have i found such wrong as i never found elsewhere; and to the end that ye may give credence thereto, let one of you go thither upon each of my two shoulders." so kay and gurhyr gwalstat went upon the two shoulders of the salmon, and they proceeded until they came unto the wall of the prison; and they heard a great wailing and lamenting from the dungeon. said gurhyr, "who is it that laments in this house of stone?" "alas! it is mabon, the son of modron, who is here imprisoned; and no imprisonment was ever so grievous as mine." "hast thou hope of being released for gold or for silver, or for any gifts of wealth, or through battle and fighting?" "by fighting will what ever i may gain be obtained." then they went thence, and returned to arthur, and they told him where mabon, the son of modron, was imprisoned. and arthur summoned the warriors of the island, and they journeyed as far as gloucester, to the place where mabon was in prison. kay and bedwyr went upon the shoulders of the fish, whilst the warriors of arthur attacked the castle. and kay broke through the wall into the dungeon, and brought away the prisoner upon his back, whilst the fight was going on between the warriors. and arthur returned home, and mabon with him at liberty. on a certain day as gurhyr gwalstat was walking over a mountain, he heard a wailing and a grievous cry. and when he heard it, he sprang forward and went towards it. and when he came there, he saw a fire burning among the turf, and an ant-hill nearly surrounded with the fire. and he drew his sword, and smote off the ant-hill close to the earth, so that it escaped being burned in the fire. and the ants said to him, "receive from us the blessing of heaven, and that which no man can give, we give thee." then they fetched the nine bushels of flax-seed which yspadaden penkawr had required of kilwich, and they brought the full measure, without lacking any, except one flax-seed, and that the lame pismire brought in before night. then said arthur, "which of the marvels will it be best for us to seek next?" "it will be best to seek for the two cubs of the wolf gast rhymhi." "is it known," said arthur, "where she is?" "she is in aber cleddyf," said one. then arthur went to the house of tringad, in aber cleddyf, and he inquired of him whether he had heard of her there. "she has often slain my herds, and she is there below in a cave in aber cleddyf." ther arthur went in his ship prydwen by sea, and the others went by land to hunt her. and they surrounded her and her two cubs, and took them and carried them away. as kay and bedwyr sat on a beacon-cairn on the summit of plinlimmon, in the highest wind that ever was, they looked around them and saw a great smoke, afar off. then said kay, "by the hand of my friend, yonder is the fire of a robber." then they hastened towards the smoke, and they came so near to it that they could see dillus varwawc scorching a wild boar. "behold, yonder is the greatest robber that ever fled from arthur," said bedwyr to kay. "dost thou know him?" "i do know him," answered kay; "he is dillus varwarc, and no leash in the world will be able to hold the cubs of gast rhymi, save a leash made from the beard of him thou seest yonder. and even that will be useless unless his beard be plucked out alive, with wooden tweezers; for if dead it will be brittle." "what thinkest thou that we should do concerning this?" said bedwyr. "let us suffer him." said kay, "to eat as much as he will of the meat, and after that he will fall asleep." and during that time they employed themselves in making the wooden tweezers. and when kay knew certainly that he was asleep, he made a pit under his feet, and he struck him a violent blow, and squeezed him into the pit. and there they twitched out his beard completely with the wooden tweezers, and after that they slew him altogether. and from thence they went, and took the leash made of dillus varwawc's beard, and they gave it into arthur's hand. thus they got all the marvels that yspadaden penkawr had required of kilwich; and they set forward, and took the marvels to his court. and kilwich said to yspadaden penkawr, "is thy daughter mine now?" "she is thine," said he, "but therefore needest thou not thank me, but arthur, who hath accomplished this for thee." then goreu, the son of custennin, the herdsman, whose brothers yspadaden penkawr had slain, seized him by the hair of his head, and dragged him after him to the keep, and cut off his head, and placed it on a stake on the citadel. then they took possession of his castle, and of his treasures. and that night olwen became kilwich's bride, and she continued to be his wife as long as she lived. chapter xiii taliesin gwyddno garanhir was sovereign of gwaelod, a territory bordering on the sea. and he possessed a weir upon the strand between dyvi and aberystwyth, near to his own castle, and the value of an hundred pounds was taken in that weir every may eve. and gwyddno had an only son named elphin, the most hapless of youths, and the most needy. and it grieved his father sore, for he thought that he was born in an evil hour. by the advice of his council, his father had granted him the drawing of the weir that year, to see if good luck would ever befall him, and to give him something wherewith to begin the world. and this was on the twenty-ninth of april. the next day, when elphin went to look, there was nothing in the weir but a leathern bag upon a pole of the weir. then said the weir-ward unto elphin, "all thy ill-luck aforetime was nothing to this; and now thou hast destroyed the virtues of the weir, which always yielded the value of an hundred pounds every may eve; and to-night there is nothing but this leathern skin within it." "how now," said elphin, "there may be therein the value of a hundred pounds." well! they took up the leathern bag, and he who opened it saw the forehead of an infant, the fairest that ever was seen; and he said, "behold a radiant brow?" (in the welsh language, taliesin.) "taliesin be he called," said elphin. and he lifted the bag in his arms, and, lamenting his bad luck, placed the boy sorrowfully behind him. and he made his horse amble gently, that before had been trotting, and he carried him as softly as if he had been sitting in the easiest chair in the world. and presently the boy made a consolation, and praise to elphin; and the consolation was as you may here see: "fair elphin, cease to lament! never in gwyddno's weir was there such good luck as this night. being sad will not avail; better to trust in god than to forbode ill; weak and small as i am, on the foaming beach of the ocean, in the day of trouble i shall be of more service to thee than three hundred salmon." this was the first poem that taliesin ever sung, being to console elphin in his grief for that the produce of the weir was lost, and what was worse, that all the world would consider that it was through his fault and ill-luck. then elphin asked him what he was, whether man or spirit. and he sung thus: "i have been formed a comely person; although i am but little, i am highly gifted; into a dark leathern bag i was thrown, and on a boundless sea i was sent adrift. from seas and from mountains god brings wealth to the fortunate man." then came elphin to the house of gwyddno, his father, and taliesin with him. gwyddno asked him if he had had a good haul at the weir, and he told him that he had got that which was better than fish. "what was that?" said gwyddno. "a bard," said elphin. then said gwyddno, "alas! what will he profit thee?" and taliesin himself replied and said, "he will profit him more than the weir ever profited thee." asked gwyddno, "art thou able to speak, and thou so little?" and taliesin answered him, "i am better able to speak than thou to question me." "let me hear what thou canst say," quoth gwyddno. then taliesin sang: "three times have i been born, i know by meditation; all the sciences of the world are collected in my breast, for i know what has been, and what hereafter will occur." elphin gave his haul to his wife, and she nursed him tenderly and lovingly. thenceforward elphin increased in riches more and more, day after day, and in love and favor with the king; and there abode taliesin until he was thirteen years old, when elphin, son of gwyddno, went by a christmas invitation to his uncle, maelgan gwynedd, who held open court at christmas-tide in the castle of dyganwy, for all the number of his lords of both degrees, both spiritual and temporal, with a vast and thronged host of knights and squires. and one arose and said, "is there in the whole world a king so great as maelgan, or one on whom heaven has bestowed so many gifts as upon him;--form, and beauty, and meekness, and strength, besides all the powers of the soul?" and together with these they said that heaven had given one gift that exceeded all the others, which was the beauty, and grace, and wisdom, and modesty of his queen, whose virtues surpassed those of all the ladies and noble maidens throughout the whole kingdom. and with this they put questions one to another, who had braver men? who had fairer or swifter horses or greyhounds? who had more skilful or wiser bards than maelgan? when they had all made an end of their praising the king and his gifts, it befell that elphin spoke on this wise. "of a truth, none but a king may vie with a king; but were he not a king, i would say that my wife was as virtuous as any lady in the kingdom, and also that i have a bard who is more skilful than all the king's bards." in a short space some of his fellows told the king all the boastings of elphin; and the king ordered him to be thrown into a strong prison, until he might show the truth as to the virtues of his wife, and the wisdom of his bard. now when elphin had been put in a tower of the castle, with a thick chain about his feet (it is said that it was a silver chain, because he was of royal blood), the king, as the story relates, sent his son rhun to inquire into the demeanor of elphin's wife. now rhun was the most graceless man in the world, and there was neither wife nor maiden with whom he held converse but was evil spoken of. while rhun went in haste towards elphin's dwelling, being fully minded to bring disgrace upon his wife, taliesin told his mistress how that the king had placed his master in durance in prison, and how that rhun was coming in haste to strive to bring disgrace upon her. wherefore he caused his mistress to array one of the maids of her kitchen in her apparel; which the noble lady gladly did, and she loaded her hands with the best rings that she and her husband possessed. in this guise taliesin caused his mistress to put the maiden to sit at the board in her room at supper; and he made her to seem as her mistress, and the mistress to seem as the maid. and when they were in due time seated at their supper, in the manner that has been said, rhun suddenly arrived at elphin's dwelling, and was received with joy, for the servants knew him; and they brought him to the room of their mistress, in the semblance of whom the maid rose up from supper and welcomed him gladly. and afterwards she sat down to supper again, and rhun with her. then rhun began jesting with the maid, who still kept the semblance of her mistress. and verily this story shows that the maiden became so intoxicated that she fell asleep; and the story relates that it was a powder that rhun put into the drink, that made her sleep so soundly that she never felt it when he cut off from her hand her little finger, whereon was the signet ring of elphin, which he had sent to his wife as a token a short time before. and rhun returned to the king with the finger and the ring as a proof, to show that he had cut it off from her hand without her awaking from her sleep of intemperance. the king rejoiced greatly at these tidings, and he sent for his councillors, to whom he told the whole story from the beginning. and he caused elphin to be brought out of prison, and he chided him because of his boast. and he spake on this wise: "elphin, be it known to thee beyond a doubt, that it is but folly for a man to trust in the virtues of his wife further than he can see her; and that thou mayest be certain of thy wife's vileness, behold her finger, with thy signet ring upon it, which was cut from her hand last night, while she slept the sleep of intoxication." then thus spake elphin: "with thy leave, mighty king, i cannot deny my ring, for it is known of many; but verily i assert that the finger around which it is was never attached to the hand of my wife; for in truth and certainty there are three notable things pertaining to it, none of which ever belonged to any of my wife's fingers. the first of the three is, that it is certainly known to me that this ring would never remain upon her thumb, whereas you can plainly see that it is hard to draw it over the joint of the little finger of the hand whence this was cut. the second thing is, that my wife has never let pass one saturday since i have known her, without paring her nails before going to bed, and you can see fully that the nail of this little finger has not been pared for a month. the third is, truly, that the hand whence this finger came was kneading rye dough within three days before the finger was cut therefrom, and i can assure your highness that my wife has never kneaded rye dough since my wife she has been." the king was mightily wroth with elphin for so stoutly withstanding him, respecting the goodness of his wife; wherefore he ordered him to his prison a second time, saying that he should not be loosed thence until he had proved the truth of his boast, as well concerning the wisdom of his bard as the virtues of his wife. in the meantime his wife and taliesin remained joyful at elphin's dwelling. and taliesin showed his mistress how that elphin was in prison because of them; but he bade her be glad, for that he would go to maelgan's court to free his master. so he took leave of his mistress, and came to the court of maelgan, who was going to sit in his hall, and dine in his royal state, as it was the custom in those days for kings and princes to do at every chief feast. as soon as taliesin entered the hall he placed himself in a quiet corner, near the place where the bards and the minstrels were wont to come, in doing their service and duty to the king, as is the custom at the high festivals, when the bounty is proclaimed. so, when the bards and the heralds came to cry largess, and to proclaim the power of the king, and his strength, at the moment when they passed by the corner wherein he was crouching, taliesin pouted out his lips after them, and played "blerwm, blerwm!" with his finger upon his lips. neither took they much notice of him as they went by but proceeded forward till they came before the king, unto whom they made their obeisance with their bodies, as they were wont, without speaking a single word, but pouting out their lips, and making mouths at the king, playing, "blerwm, blerwm!" upon their lips with their fingers, as they had seen the boy do. this sight caused the king to wonder, and to deem within himself that they were drunk with many liquors. wherefore he commanded one of his lords, who served at the board, to go to them and desire them to collect their wits, and to consider where they stood, and what it was fitting for them to do. and this lord did so gladly. but they ceased not from their folly any more than before. whereupon he sent to them a second time, and a third, desiring them to go forth from the hall. at the last the king ordered one of his squires to give a blow to the chief of them, named heinin vardd; and the squire took a broom and struck him on the head, so that he fell back in his seat. then he arose, and went on his knees, and besought leave of the king's grace to show that this their fault was not through want of knowledge, neither through drunkenness, but by the influence of some spirit that was in the hall. and he spoke on this wise: "o honorable king, be it known to your grace that not from the strength of drink, or of too much liquor, are we dumb, but through the influence of a spirit that sits in the corner yonder, in the form of a child." forthwith the king commanded the squire to fetch him; and he went to the nook where taliesin sat, and brought him before the king, who asked him what he was, and whence he came. and he answered the king in verse: "primary chief bard am i to elphin, and my native country is the region of the summer stars; i have been in asia with noah in the ark, i have seen the destruction of sodom and gomorrah, i was in india when rome was built, i have now come here to the remnant of troia." when the king and his nobles had heard the song, they wondered much, for they had never heard the like from a boy so young as he. and when the king knew that he was the bard of elphin he bade heinin, his first and wisest bard, to answer taliesin, and to strive with him. but when he came he could do no other than play "blerwm!" on his lips; and when he sent for the others of the four and twenty bards, they all did likewise, and could do no other. and maelgan asked the boy taliesin what was his errand, and he answered him in song: "elphin, the son of gwyddno, is in the land of artro, secured by thirteen locks, for praising his instructor. therefore i, taliesin, chief of the bards of the west, will loosen elphin out of a golden fetter." then he sang to them a riddle: "discover thou what is the strong creature from before the flood, without flesh, without bone, without vein, without blood, without head, without feet; it will neither be older nor younger than at the beginning. behold how the sea whitens when first it comes, when it comes from the south, when it strikes on coasts it is in the field, it is in the wood, but the eye cannot perceive it. one being has prepared it, by a tremendous blast, to wreak vengeance on maelgan gwynedd." while he was thus singing his verse, there arose a mighty storm of wind, so that the king and all his nobles thought that the castle would fall upon their heads. and the king caused them to fetch elphin in haste from his dungeon, and placed him before taliesin. and it is said that immediately he sung a verse, so that the chains opened from about his feet. after that taliesin brought elphin's wife before them, and showed that she had not one finger wanting. and in this manner did he set his master free from prison, and protect the innocence of his mistress, and silence the bards so that not one of them dared to say a word. right glad was elphin, right glad was taliesin. hero myths of the british race beowulf notable among the names of heroes of the british race is that of beowulf, which appeals to all english-speaking people in a very special way, since he is the one hero in whose story we may see the ideals of our english forefathers before they left their continental home to cross to the islands of britain. although this hero had distinguished himself by numerous feats of strength during his boyhood and early youth, it was as the deliverer of hrothgar, king of denmark, from the monster grendel that he first gained wide renown. grendel was half monster and half man, and had his abode in the fen-fastnesses in the vicinity of hrothgar's residence. night after night he would steal into the king's great palace called heorot and slay sometimes as many as thirty at one time of the knights sleeping there. beowulf put himself at the head of a selected band of warriors, went against the monster, and after a terrible fight slew it. the following night grendel's mother, a fiend scarcely less terrible than her son, carried off one of hrothgar's boldest thanes. once more beowulf went to the help of the danish king, followed the she-monster to her lair at the bottom of a muddy lake in the midst of the swamp, and with his good sword hrunting and his own muscular arms broke the sea-woman's neck. upon his return to his own country of the geats, loaded with honors bestowed upon him by hrothgar, beowulf served the king of geatland as the latter's most trusted counsellor and champion. when, after many years, the king fell before an enemy, the geats unanimously chose beowulf for their new king. his fame as a warrior kept his country free from invasion, and his wisdom as a statesman increased its prosperity and happiness. in the fiftieth year of beowulf's reign, however, a great terror fell upon the land in the way of a monstrous fire-dragon, which flew forth by night from its den in the rocks, lighting up the blackness with its blazing breath, and burning houses and homesteads, men and cattle, with the flames from its mouth. when the news came to beowulf that his people were suffering and dying, and that no warrior dared to risk his life in an effort to deliver the country from this deadly devastation, the aged king took up his shield and sword and went forth to his last fight. at the entrance of the dragon's cave beowulf raised his voice and shouted a furious defiance to the awesome guardian of the den. roaring hideously and napping his glowing wings together, the dragon rushed forth and half flew, half sprang, on beowulf. then began a fearful combat, which ended in beowulf's piercing the dragon's scaly armor and inflicting a mortal wound, but alas! in himself being given a gash in the neck by his opponent's poisoned fangs which resulted in his death. as he lay stretched on the ground, his head supported by wiglaf, an honored warrior who had helped in the fight with the dragon, beowulf roused himself to say, as he grasped wiglaf's hand: "thou must now look to the needs of the nation; here dwell i no longer, for destiny calleth me! bid thou my warriors after my funeral pyre build me a burial-cairn high on the sea-cliff's head; so that the seafarers beowulf's barrow henceforth shall name it, they who drive far and wide over the mighty flood their foamy keels. thou art the last of all the kindred of wagmund! wyrd has swept all my kin, all the brave chiefs away! now must i follow them!" these last words spoken, the king of the geats, brave to seek danger and brave to look on death and fate undaunted, fell back dead. according to his last desires, his followers gathered wood and piled it on the cliff-head. upon this funeral pyre was laid beowulf's body and consumed to ashes. then, upon the same cliff of hronesness, was erected a huge burial cairn, wide-spread and lofty, to be known thereafter as beowulf's barrow. cuchulain, champion of ireland among all the early literatures of europe, there are two which, at exactly opposite corners of the continent, display most strikingly similar characteristics. these are the greek and the irish, and the legend of the irish champion cuchulain, which well illustrates the similarity of the literatures, bears so close a resemblance to the story of achilles as to win for this hero the title of "the irish achilles." certainly in reckless courage, power of inspiring dread, sense of personal merit, and frankness of speech the irish hero is fully equal to the mighty greek. cuchulain was the nephew of king conor of ulster, son of his sister dechtire, and it is said that his father was no mortal man, but the great god lugh of the long hand. cuchulain was brought up by king conor himself, and even while he was still a boy his fame spread all over ireland. his warlike deeds were those of a proved warrior, not of a child of nursery age; and by the time cuchulain was seventeen he was without peer among the champions of ulster. upon cuchulain's marriage to emer, daughter of forgall the wily, a druid of great power, the couple took up their residence at armagh, the capital of ulster, under the protection of king conor. here there was one chief, bricriu of the bitter tongue, who, like thersites among the grecian leaders, delighted in making mischief. soon he had on foot plans for stirring up strife among the heroes of ulster, leaders among whom were the mighty laegaire, conall cearnach, cousin of cuchulain, and cuchulain himself. inviting the members of king conor's court to dinner, bricriu arranged that a contest should arise over who should have the "champion's portion," and so successful was he that, to avoid a bloody fight, the three heroes mentioned decided to submit their claims to the championship of ireland to king ailill of connaught. ailill put the heroes to an unexpected test. their dinner was served them in a separate room, into which three magic beasts, in the shape of monstrous cats, were sent by the king. when they saw them laegire and conall rose from their meal, climbed among the rafters, and stayed there all night. cuchulain waited until one cat attacked him, and then, drawing his sword, struck the monster. it showed no further sign of fight, and at daybreak the magic beasts disappeared. as laegire and conall claimed that this test was an unfair one, ailill sent the three rivals to curoi of kerry, a just and wise man, who set out to discover by wizardry and enchantments the best among the heroes. in turn they stood watch outside curoi's castle, where laegire and conall were overcome by a huge giant, who hurled spears of mighty oak trees, and ended by throwing them over the wall into the courtyard. cuchulain alone withstood the giant, whereupon he was attacked by other magic foes. among these was a dragon, which flew on horrible wings from a neighboring lake, and seemed ready to devour everything in its way. cuchulain sprang up, giving his wonderful hero-leap, thrust his arm into the dragon's mouth and down its throat, and tore out its heart. after the monster fell dead, he cut off its scaly head. as even yet cuchulain's opponents would not admit his championship, they were all three directed to return to armagh, to await curoi's judgment. here it happened that all the ulster heroes were in the great hall one night, except cuchulain and his cousin conall. as they sat in order of rank, a terrible stranger, gigantic in stature, hideous of aspect, with ravening yellow eyes, entered. in his hand he bore an enormous axe, with keen and shining edge. upon king conor's inquiring his business there, the stranger replied: "behold my axe! the man who will grasp it to-day may cut my head off with it, provided that i may, in like manner, cut off his head to-morrow. if you have no champion who dare face me, i will say that ulster has lost her courage and is dishonored." at once laegire accepted the challenge. the giant laid his head on a block, and at a blow the hero severed it from the body. thereupon the giant arose, took the head and the axe, and thus, headless, strode from the hall. but the following night, when he returned, sound as ever, to claim the fulfilment of laegire's promise, the latter's heart failed him and he did not come forward. the stranger then jeered at the men of ulster because their great champion durst not keep his agreement, nor face the blow he should receive in return for the one he gave. the men of ulster were utterly ashamed, but conall cearnach, who was present that night, made a new agreement with the stranger. he gave a blow which beheaded the giant, but again, when the latter returned whole and sound on the following evening, the champion was not to be found. now it was the turn of cuchulain, who, as the others had done, cut off the giant's head at one stroke. the next day the members of conor's court watched cuchulain to see what he would do. they would not have been surprised if he had failed like the others, who now were present. the champion, however, showed no signs of failing or retreat. he sat sorrowfully in his place, and with a sigh said to king conor as they waited: "do not leave this place till all is over. death is coming to me very surely, but i must fulfil my agreement, for i would rather die than break my word." towards the close of day the stranger strode into the hall exultant. "where is cuchulain?" he cried. "here i am," was the reply. "ah, poor boy! your speech is sad to-night, and the fear of death lies heavy on you; but at least you have redeemed your word and have not failed me." the youth rose from his seat and went towards him, as he stood with the great axe ready, and knelt to receive the blow. the hero of ulster laid his head on the block; but the giant was not satisfied. "stretch out your neck better," said he. "you are playing with me, to torment me," said cuchulain. "slay me now speedily, for i did not keep you waiting last night." however, he stretched out his neck as ordered, and the stranger raised his axe till it crashed upwards through the rafters of the hall, like the crash of trees falling in a storm. when the axe came down with a terrific sound all men looked fearfully at cuchulain. the descending axe had not even touched him; it had come down with the blunt side on the ground, and the youth knelt there unharmed. smiling at him, and leaning on his axe, stood no terrible and hideous stranger, but curoi of kerry, come to give his decision at last. "rise up, cuchulain," said curoi. "there is none among all the heroes of ulster to equal you in courage and loyalty and truth. the championship of the heroes of ireland is yours from this day forth, and the champion's portion at all feasts; and to your wife i adjudge the first place among all the women of ulster. woe to him who dares to dispute this decision!" thereupon curoi vanished, and the warriors gathered around cuchulain, and all with one voice acclaimed him the champion of the heroes of all ireland--a title which has clung to him until this day. this is one of many stories told of the irish champion, whose deeds of bravery would fill many pages. cuchulain finally came to his end on the field of battle, after a fight in which he displayed all his usual gallantry but in which unfair means were used to overcome him. for wales and for england during centuries arthur has been the representative "very gentle perfect knight." in a similar way, in england's sister isle, cuchulain stands ever for the highest ideals of the irish gaels. hereward the wake in hereward the wake (or "watchful") is found one of those heroes whose date can be ascertained with a fair amount of exactness and yet in whose story occur mythological elements which seem to belong to all ages. the folklore of primitive races is a great storehouse whence a people can choose tales and heroic deeds to glorify its own national hero, careless that the same tales and deeds have done duty for other peoples and other heroes. hence it happens that hereward the saxon, a patriot hero as real and actual as nelson or george washington, whose deeds were recorded in prose and verse within forty years of his death, was even then surrounded by a cloud of romance and mystery, which hid in vagueness his family, his marriage, and even his death. briefly it may be stated that hereward was a native of lincolnshire, and was in his prime about . in that year he joined a party of danes who appeared in england, attacked peterborough and sacked the abbey there, and afterward took refuge in the isle of ely. here he was besieged by william the conqueror, and was finally forced to yield to the norman. he thus came to stand for the defeated saxon race, and his name has been passed down as that of the darling hero of the saxons. for his splendid defence of ely they forgave his final surrender to duke william; they attributed to him all the virtues supposed to be inherent in the free-born, and all the glorious valor on which the english prided themselves; and, lastly, they surrounded his death with a halo of desperate fighting, and made his last conflict as wonderful as that of roland at roncesvalles. if roland is the ideal of norman feudal chivalry, hereward is equally the ideal of anglo-saxon sturdy manliness and knighthood. an account of one of hereward's adventures as a youth will serve as illustration of the stories told of his prowess. on an enforced visit to cornwall, he found that king alef, a petty british chief, had betrothed his fair daughter to a terrible pictish giant, breaking off, in order to do it, her troth-plight with prince sigtryg of waterford, son of a danish king in ireland. hereward, ever chivalrous, picked a quarrel with the giant and killed him in fair fight, whereupon the king threw him into prison. in the following night, however, the released princess arranged that the gallant saxon should be freed and sent hot-foot for her lover, prince sigtryg. after many adventures hereward reached the prince, who hastened to return to cornwall with the young hero. but to the grief of both, they learned upon their arrival that the princess had just been betrothed to a wild cornish hero, haco, and the wedding feast was to be held that very day. sigtryg at once sent a troop of forty danes to king alef demanding the fulfilment of the troth-plight between himself and his daughter, and threatening vengeance if it were broken. to this threat the king returned no answer, and no dane came back to tell of their reception. sigtryg would have waited till morning, trusting in the honor of the king, but hereward disguised himself as a minstrel and obtained admission to the bridal feast, where he soon won applause by his beautiful singing. the bridegroom, haco, in a rapture offered him any boon he liked to ask, but he demanded only a cup of wine from the hands of the bride. when she brought it to him he flung into the empty cup the betrothal ring, the token she had sent to sigtryg, and said: "i thank thee, lady, and would reward thee for thy gentleness to a wandering minstrel; i give back the cup, richer than before by the kind thoughts of which it bears the token." the princess looked at him, gazed into the goblet, and saw her ring; then, looking again, she recognized her deliverer and knew that rescue was at hand. while men feasted hereward listened and talked, and found out that the forty danes were prisoners, to be released on the morrow when haco was sure of his bride, but released useless and miserable, since they would be turned adrift blinded. haco was taking his lovely bride back to his own land, and hereward saw that any rescue, to be successful, must be attempted on the march. returning to sigtryg, the young saxon told all that he had learned, and the danes planned an ambush in the ravine where haco had decided to blind and set free his captives. the whole was carried out exactly as hereward arranged it. the cornishmen, with the danish captives, passed first without attack; next came haco, riding grim and ferocious beside his silent bride, he exulting in his success, she looking eagerly for any signs of rescue. as they passed hereward sprang from his shelter, crying, "upon them, danes, and set your brethren free!" and himself struck down haco and smote off his head. there was a short struggle, but soon the rescued danes were able to aid their deliverers, and the cornish guards were all slain; the men of king alef, never very zealous for the cause of haco, fled, and the danes were left masters of the field. sigtryg had in the meantime seen to the safety of the princess, and now, placing her between himself and hereward, he escorted her to the ship, which soon brought them to waterford and a happy bridal. the prince and princess of waterford always recognized in hereward their deliverer and best friend, and in their gratitude wished him to dwell with them always; but the hero's roving and daring temper forbade his settling down, but rather urged him on to deeds of arms in other lands, where he quickly won a renown second to none. robin hood among the earliest heirlooms of the anglo-saxon tongue are the songs and legends of robin hood and his merry outlaws, which have charmed readers young and old for more than six hundred years. these entertaining stories date back to the time when chaucer wrote his "canterbury tales," when the minstrel and scribe stood in the place of the more prim and precise modern printed book. the question of whether or not robin hood was a real person has been asked for many years, just as a similar question has been asked about william tell and others whom everyone would much rather accept on faith. it cannot be answered by a brief "yes" or "no," even though learned men have pored over ancient records and have written books on the subject. according to the general belief robin was an outlaw in the reign of richard i, when in the depths of sherwood forest he entertained one hundred tall men, all good archers, with the spoil he took; but "he suffered no woman to be oppressed or otherwise molested; poore men's goods he spared, abundantlie relieving them with that which by theft he got from abbeys and houses of rich carles." consequently robin was an immense favorite with the common people. this popularity extended from the leader to all the members of his hardy band. "god save robin hood and all his good yeomanry" is the ending of many old ballads. the clever archer who could outshoot his fellows, the brave yeoman inured to blows, and the man who could be true to his friends through thick and thin were favorites for all time; and they have been idealized in the persons of robin hood and his merry outlaws. one of the best-known stories of this picturesque figure of early english times is that given by sir walter scott in "ivanhoe," concerning the archery contest during the rule or misrule of prince john, in the absence of richard from the kingdom. robin hood, under the assumed name of locksley, boldly presents himself at a royal tournament at ashby, as competitor for the prize in shooting with the long-bow. from the eight or ten archers who enter the contest, the number finally narrows down to two,-- hubert, a forester in the service of one of the king's nobles, and locksley or robin hood. hubert takes the first shot in the final trial of skill, and lands his arrow within the inner ring of the target, but not exactly in the centre. "'you have not allowed for the wind, hubert,' said locksley, 'or that had been a better shot.' "so saying, and without showing the least anxiety to pause upon his aim, locksley stepped to the appointed station, and shot his arrow as carelessly in appearance as if he had not even looked at the mark. he was speaking almost at the instant that the shaft left the bow-string, yet it alighted in the target two inches nearer to the white spot which marked the centre than that of hubert. "'by the light of heaven!' said prince john to hubert, 'an thou suffer that runagate knave to overcome thee, thou art worthy of the gallows!' "hubert had but one set speech for all occasions. 'an your highness were to hang me,' he said, 'a man can but do his best. nevertheless, my grandsire drew a good bow--' "'the foul fiend on thy grandsire and all his generation!' interrupted john; 'shoot, knave, and shoot thy best, or it shall be worse for thee!' "thus exhorted, hubert resumed his place, and not neglecting the caution which he had received from his adversary, he made the necessary allowance for a very light air of wind, which had just risen, and shot so successfully that his arrow alighted in the very centre of the target. "'a hubert! a hubert!' shouted the populace, more interested in a known person than in a stranger. 'in the clout!--in the clout!--a hubert forever!' "'thou canst not mend that shot, locksley,' said the prince, with an insulting smile. "'i will notch his shaft for him, however,' replied locksley. "and letting fly his arrow with a little more precaution than before, it lighted right upon that of his competitor, which it split to shivers. the people who stood around were so astonished at his wonderful dexterity, that they could not even give vent to their surprise in their usual clamor. 'this must be the devil, and no man of flesh and blood,' whispered the yeomen to each other; 'such archery was never seen since a bow was first bent in britain.' "'and now,' said locksley, 'i will crave your grace's permission to plant such a mark as is used in the north country; and welcome every brave yeoman who shall try a shot at it to win a smile from the bonny lass he loves best.'" locksley thereupon sets up a willow wand, six feet long and as thick as a man's thumb. hubert is forced to decline the honor of taking part in such a trial of archery skill, but his rival easily splits the wand at a distance of three hundred feet and carries off the prize. "even prince john, in admiration of locksley's skill, lost for an instant his dislike to his person. 'these twenty nobles,' he said, 'which, with the bugle, thou hast fairly won, are thine own; we will make them fifty, if thou wilt take livery and service with us as a yeoman of our bodyguard, and be near to our person. for never did so strong a hand bend a bow, or so true an eye direct a shaft.'" [footnote: ivanhoe, vol. , chap. xiii.] locksley, however, declares that it is impossible for him to enter the prince's service, generously shares his prize with the worthy hubert, and retires once more to his beloved haunts among the lights and shadows of the good greenwood. glossary abdalrahman, founder of the independent ommiad (saracenic) power in spain, conquered at tours by charles martel aberfraw, scene of nuptials of branwen and matholch absyrtus, younger brother of medea abydos, a town on the hellespont, nearly opposite to sestos abyla, mount, or columna, a mountain in morocco, near ceuta, now called jebel musa or ape's hill, forming the northwestern extremity of the african coast opposite gibraltar (see pillars of hercules) acestes, son of a trojan woman who was sent by her father to sicily, that she might not be devoured by the monsters which infested the territory of troy acetes, bacchanal captured by pentheus achates, faithful friend and companion of aeneas achelous, river-god of the largest river in greece--his horn of plenty achilles, the hero of the iliad, son of peleus and of the nereid thetis, slain by paris acis, youth loved by galatea and slain by polyphemus acontius, a beautiful youth, who fell in love with cydippe, the daughter of a noble athenian. acrisius, son of abas, king of argos, grandson of lynceus, the great-grandson of danaus. actaeon, a celebrated huntsman, son of aristaeus and autonoe, who, having seen diana bathing, was changed by her to a stag and killed by his own dogs. admeta, daughter of eurystheus, covets hippolyta's girdle. admetus, king of thessaly, saved from death by alcestis adonis, a youth beloved by aphrodite (venus), and proserpine; killed by a boar. adrastus, a king of argos. aeacus, son of zeus (jupiter) and aegina, renowned in all greece for his justice and piety. aeaea, circe's island, visited by ulysses. aeetes, or aeeta, son of helios (the sun) and perseis, and father of medea and absyrtus. aegeus, king of athens. aegina, a rocky island in the middle of the saronic gulf. aegis, shield or breastplate of jupiter and minerva. aegisthus, murderer of agamemnon, slain by orestes. aeneas, trojan hero, son of anchises and aphrodite (venus), and born on mount ida, reputed first settler of rome, aeneid, poem by virgil, relating the wanderings of aeneas from troy to italy, ae'olus, son of hellen and the nymph orseis, represented in homer as the happy ruler of the aeolian islands, to whom zeus had given dominion over the winds, aesculapius, god of the medical art, aeson, father of jason, made young again by medea, aethiopians, inhabitants of the country south of egypt, aethra, mother of theseus by aegeus, aetna, volcano in sicily, agamedes, brother of trophonius, distinguished as an architect, agamemnon, son of plisthenis and grandson of atreus, king of mycenae, although the chief commander of the greeks, is not the hero of the iliad, and in chivalrous spirit altogether inferior to achilles, agave, daughter of cadmus, wife of echion, and mother of pentheus, agenor, father of europa, cadmus, cilix, and phoenix, aglaia, one of the graces, agni, hindu god of fire, agramant, a king in africa, agrican, fabled king of tartary, pursuing angelica, finally killed by orlando, agrivain, one of arthur's knights, ahriman, the evil spirit in the dual system of zoroaster, see ormuzd ajax, son of telamon, king of salamis, and grandson of aeacus, represented in the iliad as second only to achilles in bravery, alba, the river where king arthur fought the romans, alba longa, city in italy founded by son of aeneas, alberich, dwarf guardian of rhine gold treasure of the nibelungs albracca, siege of, alcestis, wife of admetus, offered hersell as sacrifice to spare her husband, but rescued by hercules, alcides (hercules), alcina, enchantress, alcinous, phaeacian king, alcippe, daughter of mars, carried off by halirrhothrus, alcmena, wife of jupiter, and mother of hercules, alcuin, english prelate and scholar, aldrovandus, dwarf guardian of treasure, alecto, one of the furies, alexander the great, king of macedonia, conqueror of greece, egypt, persia, babylonia, and india, alfadur, a name for odin, alfheim, abode of the elves of light, alice, mother of huon and girard, sons of duke sevinus, alphenor, son of niobe, alpheus, river god pursuing arethusa, who escaped by being changed to a fountain, althaea, mother of meleager, whom she slew because he had in a quarrel killed her brothers, thus disgracing "the house of thestius," her father, amalthea, nurse of the infant jupiter in crete, amata, wife of latinus, driven mad by alecto, amaury of hauteville, false hearted knight of charlemagne, amazons, mythical race of warlike women, ambrosia, celestial food used by the gods, ammon, egyptian god of life identified by romans with phases of jupiter, the father of gods, amphiaraus, a great prophet and hero at argos, amphion, a musician, son of jupiter and antiope (see dirce), amphitrite, wife of neptune, amphyrsos, a small river in thessaly, ampyx, assailant of perseus, turned to stone by seeing gorgon's head, amrita, nectar giving immortality, amun, see ammon amymone, one of the fifty daughters of danaus, and mother by poseidon (neptune) of nauplius, the father of palamedes, anaxarete, a maiden of cyprus, who treated her lover iphis with such haughtiness that he hanged himself at her door, anbessa, saracenic governor of spain ( ad), anceus, one of the argonauts, anchises, beloved by aphrodite (venus), by whom he became the father of aeneas, andraemon, husband of dryope, saw her changed into a tree, andret, a cowardly knight, spy upon tristram, andromache, wife of hector andromeda, daughter of king cephas, delivered from monster by perseus aneurin, welsh bard angelica, princess of cathay anemone, short lived wind flower, created by venus from the blood of the slain adonis angerbode, giant prophetess, mother of fenris, hela and the midgard serpent anglesey, a northern british island, refuge of druids fleeing from romans antaeus, giant wrestler of libya, killed by hercules, who, finding him stronger when thrown to the earth, lifted him into the air and strangled him antea, wife of jealous proetus antenor, descendants of, in italy anteros, deity avenging unrequited love, brother of eros (cupid) anthor, a greek antigone, daughter of aedipus, greek ideal of filial and sisterly fidelity antilochus, son of nestor antiope, amazonian queen. see dirce anubis, egyptian god, conductor of the dead to judgment apennines aphrodite see venus, dione, etc. apis, egyptian bull god of memphis apollo, god of music and song apollo belvedere, famous antique statue in vatican at rome apples of the hesperides, wedding gifts to juno, guarded by daughters of atlas and hesperis, stolen by atlas for hercules, aquilo, or boreas, the north wind, aquitaine, ancient province of southwestern france, arachne, a maiden skilled in weaving, changed to a spider by minerva for daring to compete with her, arcadia, a country in the middle of peloponnesus, surrounded on all sides by mountains, arcady, star of, the pole star, arcas, son of jupiter and callisto, archer, constellation of the, areopagus, court of the, at athens, ares, called mars by the romans, the greek god of war, and one of the great olympian gods, arethusa, nymph of diana, changed to a fountain, argius king of ireland, father of isoude the fair, argo, builder of the vessel of jason for the argonautic expedition, argolis, city of the nemean games, argonauts, jason's crew seeking the golden fleece, argos, a kingdom in greece, argus, of the hundred eyes, guardian of io, ariadne, daughter of king minos, who helped theseus slay the minotaur, arimanes see ahriman. arimaspians, one-eyed people of syria, arion, famous musician, whom sailors cast into the sea to rob him, but whose lyric song charmed the dolphins, one of which bore him safely to land, aristaeus, the bee keeper, in love with eurydice, armorica, another name for britain, arridano, a magical ruffian, slain by orlando, artemis see diana arthgallo, brother of elidure, british king, arthur, king in britain about the th century, aruns, an etruscan who killed camilla, asgard, home of the northern gods, ashtaroth, a cruel spirit, called by enchantment to bring rinaldo to death, aske, the first man, made from an ash tree, astolpho of england, one of charlemagne's knights, astraea, goddess of justice, daughter of astraeus and eos, astyages, an assailant of perseus, astyanax, son of hector of troy, established kingdom of messina in italy, asuias, opponents of the braminical gods, atalanta, beautiful daughter of king of icaria, loved and won in a foot race by hippomenes, ate, the goddess of infatuation, mischief and guilt, athamas, son of aeolus and enarete, and king of orchomenus, in boeotia, see ino athene, tutelary goddess of athens, the same as minerva, athens, the capital of attica, about four miles from the sea, between the small rivers cephissus and ilissus, athor, egyptian deity, progenitor of isis and osiris, athos, the mountainous peninsula, also called acte, which projects from chalcidice in macedonia, atlantes, foster father of rogero, a powerful magician, atlantis, according to an ancient tradition, a great island west of the pillars of hercules, in the ocean, opposite mount atlas, atlas, a titan, who bore the heavens on his shoulders, as punishment for opposing the gods, one of the sons of iapetus, atlas, mount, general name for range in northern africa, atropos, one of the fates attica, a state in ancient greece, audhumbla, the cow from which the giant ymir was nursed. her milk was frost melted into raindrops, augean stables, cleansed by hercules, augeas, king of elis, augustan age, reign of roman emperor augustus caesar, famed for many great authors, augustus, the first imperial caesar, who ruled the roman empire bc-- ad, aulis, port in boeotia, meeting place of greek expedition against troy, aurora, identical with eos, goddess of the dawn, aurora borealis, splendid nocturnal luminosity in northern sky, called northern lights, probably electrical, autumn, attendant of phoebus, the sun, avalon, land of the blessed, an earthly paradise in the western seas, burial place of king arthur, avatar, name for any of the earthly incarnations of vishnu, the preserver (hindu god), aventine, mount, one of the seven hills of rome, avernus, a miasmatic lake close to the promontory between cumae and puteoli, filling the crater of an extinct volcano, by the ancients thought to be the entrance to the infernal regions, avicenna, celebrated arabian physician and philosopher, aya, mother of rinaldo, aymon, duke, father of rinaldo and bradamante, b baal, king of tyre, babylonian river, dried up when phaeton drove the sun chariot, bacchanali a, a feast to bacchus that was permitted to occur but once in three years, attended by most shameless orgies, bacchanals, devotees and festal dancers of bacchus, bacchus (dionysus), god of wine and revelry, badon, battle of, arthur's final victory over the saxons, bagdemagus, king, a knight of arthur's time, baldur, son of odin, and representing in norse mythology the sun god, balisardo, orlando's sword, ban, king of brittany, ally of arthur, father of launcelot, bards, minstrels of welsh druids, basilisk see cockatrice baucis, wife of philemon, visited by jupiter and mercury, bayard, wild horse subdued by rinaldo, beal, druids' god of life, bedivere, arthur's knight, bedver, king arthur's butler, made governor of normandy, bedwyr, knightly comrade of geraint, belisarda, rogero's sword, bellerophon, demigod, conqueror of the chimaera, bellona, the roman goddess of war, represented as the sister or wife of mars, beltane, druidical fire festival, belus, son of poseidon (neptune) and libya or eurynome, twin brother of agenor, bendigeid vran, king of britain, beowulf, hero and king of the swedish geats, beroe, nurse of semele, bertha, mother of orlando, bifrost, rainbow bridge between the earth and asgard bladud, inventor, builder of the city of bath, blamor, a knight of arthur, bleoberis, a knight of arthur, boeotia, state in ancient greece, capital city thebes, bohort, king, a knight of arthur, bona dea, a roman divinity of fertility, bootes, also called areas, son of jupiter and calisto, changed to constellation of ursa major, boreas, north wind, son of aeolus and aurora, bosporus (bosphorus), the cow-ford, named for io, when as a heifer she crossed that strait, bradamante, sister to rinaldo, a female warrior, brademagus, king, father of sir maleagans, bragi, norse god of poetry, brahma, the creator, chief god of hindu religion, branwen, daughter of llyr, king of britain, wife of mathclch, breciliande, forest of, where vivian enticed merlin, brengwain, maid of isoude the fair brennus, son of molmutius, went to gaul, became king of the allobroges, breuse, the pitiless, a caitiff knight, briareus, hundred armed giant, brice, bishop, sustainer of arthur when elected king, brigliadoro, orlando's horse, briseis, captive maid belonging to achilles, britto, reputed ancestor of british people, bruhier, sultan of arabia, brunello, dwarf, thief, and king brunhild, leader of the valkyrie, brutus, great grandson of aeneas, and founder of city of new troy (london), see pandrasus bryan, sir, a knight of arthur, buddha, called the enlightened, reformer of brahmanism, deified teacher of self abnegation, virtue, reincarnation, karma (inevitable sequence of every act), and nirvana (beatific absorption into the divine), lived about byblos, in egypt, byrsa, original site of carthage, c cacus, gigantic son of vulcan, slain by hercules, whose captured cattle he stole, cadmus, son of agenor, king of phoenicia, and of telephassa, and brother of europa, who, seeking his sister, carried off by jupiter, had strange adventures--sowing in the ground teeth of a dragon he had killed, which sprang up armed men who slew each other, all but five, who helped cadmus to found the city of thebes, caduceus, mercury's staff, cadwallo, king of venedotia (north wales), caerleon, traditional seat of arthur's court, caesar, julius, roman lawyer, general, statesman and author, conquered and consolidated roman territory, making possible the empire, caicus, a greek river, cairns, druidical store piles, calais, french town facing england, calchas, wisest soothsayer among the greeks at troy, caliburn, a sword of arthur, calliope, one of the nine muses callisto, an arcadian nymph, mother of arcas (see bootes), changed by jupiter to constellation ursa minor, calpe, a mountain in the south of spain, on the strait between the atlantic and mediterranean, now rock of gibraltar, calydon, home of meleager, calypso, queen of island of ogyia, where ulysses was wrecked and held seven years, camber, son of brutus, governor of west albion (wales), camelot, legendary place in england where arthur's court and palace were located, camenae, prophetic nymphs, belonging to the religion of ancient italy, camilla, volscian maiden, huntress and amazonian warrior, favorite of diana, camlan, battle of, where arthur was mortally wounded, canterbury, english city, capaneus, husband of evadne, slain by jupiter for disobedience, capet, hugh, king of france ( - ad), caradoc briefbras, sir, great nephew of king arthur, carahue, king of mauretania, carthage, african city, home of dido cassandra, daughter of priam and hecuba, and twin sister of helenus, a prophetess, who foretold the coming of the greeks but was not believed, cassibellaunus, british chieftain, fought but not conquered by caesar, cassiopeia, mother of andromeda, castalia, fountain of parnassus, giving inspiration to oracular priestess named pythia, castalian cave, oracle of apollo, castes (india), castor and pollux--the dioscuri, sons of jupiter and leda,-- castor a horseman, pollux a boxer (see gemini), caucasus, mount cavall, arthur's favorite dog, cayster, ancient river, cebriones, hector's charioteer, cecrops, first king of athens, celestials, gods of classic mythology, celeus, shepherd who sheltered ceres, seeking proserpine, and whose infant son triptolemus was in gratitude made great by ceres, cellini, benvenuto, famous italian sculptor and artificer in metals, celtic nations, ancient gauls and britons, modern bretons, welsh, irish and gaelic scotch, centaurs, originally an ancient race, inhabiting mount pelion in thessaly, in later accounts represented as half horses and half men, and said to have been the offspring of ixion and a cloud, cephalus, husband of beautiful but jealous procris, cephe us, king of ethiopians, father of andromeda, cephisus, a grecian stream, cerberus, three-headed dog that guarded the entrance to hades, called a son of typhaon and echidna ceres (see demeter) cestus, the girdle of venus ceyx, king of thessaly (see halcyone) chaos, original confusion, personified by greeks as most ancient of the gods charlemagne, king of the franks and emperor of the romans charles martel', king of the franks, grandfather of charlemagne, called martel (the hammer) from his defeat of the saracens at tours charlot, son of charlemagne charon, son of erebos, conveyed in his boat the shades of the dead across the rivers of the lower world charyb'dis, whirlpool near the coast of sicily, see scylla chimaera, a fire breathing monster, the fore part of whose body was that of a lion, the hind part that of a dragon, and the middle that of a goat, slain by bellerophon china, lamas (priests) of chos, island in the grecian archipelago chiron, wisest of all the centaurs, son of cronos (saturn) and philyra, lived on mount pelion, instructor of grecian heroes chryseis, trojan maid, taken by agamemnon chryses, priest of apollo, father of chryseis ciconians, inhabitants of ismarus, visited by ulysses cimbri, an ancient people of central europe cimmeria, a land of darkness cimon, athenian general circe, sorceress, sister of aeetes cithaeron, mount, scene of bacchic worship clarimunda, wife of huon clio, one of the muses cloridan, a moor clotho, one of the fates clymene, an ocean nymph clytemnestra, wife of agamemnon, killed by orestes clytie, a water nymph, in love with apollo cnidos, ancient city of asia minor, seat of worship of aphrodite (venus) cockatrice (or basilisk), called king of serpents, supposed to kill with its look cocytus, a river of hades colchis, a kingdom east of the black sea colophon, one of the seven cities claiming the birth of homer columba, st, an irish christian missionary to druidical parts of scotland conan, welsh king constantine, greek emperor cordeilla, daughter of the mythical king leir corineus, a trojan warrior in albion cornwall, southwest part of britain cortana, ogier's sword corybantes, priests of cybele, or rhea, in phrygia, who celebrated her worship with dances, to the sound of the drum and the cymbal, crab, constellation cranes and their enemies, the pygmies, of ibycus creon, king of thebes crete, one of the largest islands of the mediterranean sea, lying south of the cyclades creusa, daughter of priam, wife of aeneas crocale, a nymph of diana cromlech, druidical altar cronos, see saturn crotona, city of italy cuchulain, irish hero, called the "hound of ireland," culdees', followers of st. columba, cumaean sibyl, seeress of cumae, consulted by aeneas, sold sibylline books to tarquin cupid, child of venus and god of love curoi of kerry, wise man cyane, river, opposed pluto's passage to hades cybele (rhea) cyclopes, creatures with circular eyes, of whom homer speaks as a gigantic and lawless race of shepherds in sicily, who devoured human beings, they helped vulcan to forge the thunderbolts of zeus under aetna cymbeline, king of ancient britain cynosure (dog's tail), the pole star, at tail of constellation ursa minor cynthian mountain top, birthplace of artemis (diana) and apollo cyprus, island off the coast of syria, sacred to aphrodite cyrene, a nymph, mother of aristaeus daedalus, architect of the cretan labyrinth, inventor of sails daguenet, king arthur's fool dalai lama, chief pontiff of thibet danae, mother of perseus by jupiter danaides, the fifty daughters of danaus, king of argos, who were betrothed to the fifty sons of aegyptus, but were commanded by their father to slay each her own husband on the marriage night danaus (see danaides) daphne, maiden loved by apollo, and changed into a laurel tree dardanelles, ancient hellespont dardanus, progenitor of the trojan kings dardinel, prince of zumara dawn, see aurora day, an attendant on phoebus, the sun day star (hesperus) death, see hela deiphobus, son of priam and hecuba, the bravest brother of paris dejanira, wife of hercules delos, floating island, birthplace of apollo and diana delphi, shrine of apollo, famed for its oracles demeter, greek goddess of marriage and human fertility, identified by romans with ceres demeha, south wales demodocus, bard of alomous, king of the phaeaeians deucalion, king of thessaly, who with his wife pyrrha were the only pair surviving a deluge sent by zeus dia, island of diana (artemis), goddess of the moon and of the chase, daughter of jupiter and latona diana of the hind, antique sculpture in the louvre, paris diana, temple of dictys, a sailor didier, king of the lombards dido, queen of tyre and carthage, entertained the shipwrecked aeneas diomede, greek hero during trojan war dione, female titan, mother of zeus, of aphrodite (venus) dionysus see bacchus dioscuri, the twins (see castor and pollux) dirce, wife of lycus, king of thebes, who ordered amphion and zethus to tie antiope to a wild bull, but they, learning antiope to be their mother, so treated dirce herself dis see pluto discord, apple of, see eris. discordia, see eris. dodona, site of an oracle of zeus (jupiter) dorceus, a dog of diana doris, wife of nereus dragon's teeth sown by cadmus druids, ancient celtic priests dryades (or dryads), see wood nymphs dryope, changed to a lotus plant, for plucking a lotus--enchanted form of the nymph lotis dubricius, bishop of caerleon, dudon, a knight, comrade of astolpho, dunwallo molmu'tius, british king and lawgiver durindana, sword of orlando or rinaldo dwarfs in wagner's nibelungen ring e earth (gaea); goddess of the ebudians, the echo, nymph of diana, shunned by narcissus, faded to nothing but a voice ecklenlied, the eddas, norse mythological records, ederyn, son of nudd egena, nymph of the fountain eisteddfod, session of welsh bards and minstrels electra, the lost one of the pleiades, also, sister of orestes eleusian mysteries, instituted by ceres, and calculated to awaken feelings of piety and a cheerful hope of better life in the future eleusis, grecian city elgin marbles, greek sculptures from the parthenon of athens, now in british museum, london, placed there by lord elgin eliaures, enchanter elidure, a king of britain elis, ancient greek city elli, old age; the one successful wrestler against thor elphin, son of gwyddiro elves, spiritual beings, of many powers and dispositions--some evil, some good elvidnir, the ball of hela elysian fields, the land of the blest elysian plain, whither the favored of the gods were taken without death elysium, a happy land, where there is neither snow, nor cold, nor ram. hither favored heroes, like menelaus, pass without dying, and live happy under the rule of rhadamanthus. in the latin poets elysium is part of the lower world, and the residence of the shades of the blessed embla, the first woman enseladus, giant defeated by jupiter endymion, a beautiful youth beloved by diana enid, wife of geraint enna, vale of home of proserpine enoch, the patriarch epidaurus, a town in argolis, on the saronic gulf, chief seat of the worship of aeculapius, whose temple was situated near the town epimetheus, son of iapetus, husband of pandora, with his brother prometheus took part in creation of man epirus, country to the west of thessaly, lying along the adriatic sea epopeus, a sailor erato, one of the muses erbin of cornwall, father of geraint erebus, son of chaos, region of darkness, entrance to hades eridanus, river erinys, one of the furies eriphyle, sister of polynices, bribed to decide on war, in which her husband was slain eris (discordia), goddess of discord. at the wedding of peleus and thetis, eris being uninvited threw into the gathering an apple "for the fairest," which was claimed by hera (juno), aphrodite (venus) and athena (minerva) paris, being called upon for judgment, awarded it to aphrodite erisichthon, an unbeliever, punished by famine eros see cupid erytheia, island eryx, a mount, haunt of venus esepus, river in paphlagonia estrildis, wife of locrine, supplanting divorced guendolen eteocles, son of oeipus and jocasta etruscans, ancient people of italy, etzel, king of the huns euboic sea, where hercules threw lichas, who brought him the poisoned shirt of nessus eude, king of aquitaine, ally of charles martel eumaeus, swineherd of aeeas eumenides, also called erinnyes, and by the romans furiae or diraae, the avenging deities, see furies euphorbus, a trojan, killed by menelaus euphros'yne, one of the graces europa, daughter of the phoenician king agenor, by zeus the mother of minos, rhadamanthus, and sarpedon eurus, the east wind euyalus, a gallant trojan soldier, who with nisus entered the grecian camp, both being slain, eurydice, wife of orpheus, who, fleeing from an admirer, was killed by a snake and borne to tartarus, where orpheus sought her and was permitted to bring her to earth if he would not look back at her following him, but he did, and she returned to the shades, eurylochus, a companion of ulysses, eurynome, female titan, wife of ophlon eurystheus, taskmaster of hercules, eurytion, a centaur (see hippodamia), euterpe, muse who presided over music, evadne, wife of capaneus, who flung herself upon his funeral pile and perished with him evander, arcadian chief, befriending aeneas in italy, evnissyen, quarrelsome brother of branwen, excalibar, sword of king arthur, f fafner, a giant turned dragon, treasure stealer, by the solar theory simply the darkness who steals the day, falerina, an enchantress, fasolt, a giant, brother of fafner, and killed by him, "fasti," ovid's, a mythological poetic calendar, fata morgana, a mirage fates, the three, described as daughters of night--to indicate the darkness and obscurity of human destiny--or of zeus and themis, that is, "daughters of the just heavens" they were clo'tho, who spun the thread of life, lach'esis, who held the thread and fixed its length and at'ropos, who cut it off fauns, cheerful sylvan deities, represented in human form, with small horns, pointed ears, and sometimes goat's tail faunus, son of picus, grandson of saturnus, and father of latinus, worshipped as the protecting deity of agriculture and of shepherds, and also as a giver of oracles favonius, the west wind fear fenris, a wolf, the son of loki the evil principle of scandinavia, supposed to have personated the element of fire, destructive except when chained fensalir, freya's palace, called the hall of the sea, where were brought together lovers, husbands, and wives who had been separated by death ferragus, a giant, opponent of orlando ferrau, one of charlemagne's knights ferrex. brother of porrex, the two sons of leir fire worshippers, of ancient persia, see parsees flollo, roman tribune in gaul flora, roman goddess of flowers and spring flordelis, fair maiden beloved by florismart florismart, sir, a brave knight, flosshilda, one of the rhine daughters fortunate fields fortunate islands (see elysian plain) forum, market place and open square for public meetings in rome, surrounded by court houses, palaces, temples, etc francus, son of histion, grandson of japhet, great grandson of noah, legendary ancestor of the franks, or french freki, one of odin's two wolves frey, or freyr, god of the sun freya, norse goddess of music, spring, and flowers fricka, goddess of marriage frigga, goddess who presided over smiling nature, sending sunshine, rain, and harvest froh, one of the norse gods fronti'no, rogero's horse furies (erinnyes), the three retributive spirits who punished crime, represented as snaky haired old woman, named alecto, megaeira, and tisiphone fusberta, rinaldo's sword g gaea, or ge, called tellus by the romans, the personification of the earth, described as the first being that sprang fiom chaos, and gave birth to uranus (heaven) and pontus (sea) gahariet, knight of arthur's court gaheris, knight galafron, king of cathay, father of angelica galahad, sir, the pure knight of arthur's round table, who safely took the siege perilous (which see) galatea, a nereid or sea nymph galatea, statue carved and beloved by pygmalion galen, greek physician and philosophical writer gallehant, king of the marches games, national athletic contests in greece--olympian, at olympia, pythian, near delphi, seat of apollo's oracle, isthmian, on the corinthian isthmus, nemean, at nemea in argolis gan, treacherous duke of maganza ganelon of mayence, one of charlemagne's knights ganges, river in india gano, a peer of charlemagne ganymede, the most beautiful of all mortals, carried off to olympus that he might fill the cup of zeus and live among the immortal gods gareth, arthur's knight gaudisso, sultan gaul, ancient france gautama, prince, the buddha gawain, arthur's knight gawl, son of clud, suitor for rhiannon gemini (see castor), constellation created by jupiter from the twin brothers after death, genghis khan, tartar conqueror genius, in roman belief, the protective spirit of each individual man, see juno geoffrey of mon'mouth, translator into latin of the welsh history of the kings of britain ( ) geraint, a knight of king arthur gerda, wife of frey geri, one of odin's two wolves geryon, a three bodied monster gesnes, navigator sent for isoude the fair giallar horn, the trumpet that heimdal will blow at the judgment day giants, beings of monstrous size and of fearful countenances, represented as in constant opposition to the gods, in wagner's nibelungen ring gibichung race, ancestors of alberich gibraltar, great rock and town at southwest corner of spain (see pillars of hercules) gildas, a scholar of arthur's court girard, son of duke sevinus glastonbury, where arthur died glaucus, a fisherman, loving scylla gleipnir, magical chain on the wolf fenris glewlwyd, arthur's porter golden fleece, of ram used for escape of children of athamas, named helle and phryxus (which see), after sacrifice of ram to jupiter, fleece was guarded by sleepless dragon and gained by jason and argonauts (which see, also helle) goneril, daughter of leir gordian knot, tying up in temple the wagon of gordius, he who could untie it being destined to be lord of asia, it was cut by alexander the great, gordius, a countryman who, arriving in phrygia in a wagon, was made king by the people, thus interpreting an oracle, gorgons, three monstrous females, with huge teeth, brazen claws and snakes for hair, sight of whom turned beholders to stone, medusa, the most famous, slain by perseus gorlois, duke of tintadel gouvernail, squire of isabella, queen of lionesse, protector of her son tristram while young, and his squire in knighthood graal, the holy, cup from which the saviour drank at last supper, taken by joseph of arimathea to europe, and lost, its recovery becoming a sacred quest for arthur's knights graces, three goddesses who enhanced the enjoyments of life by refinement and gentleness; they were aglaia (brilliance), euphrosyne (joy), and thalia (bloom) gradas'so, king of sericane graeae, three gray haired female watchers for the gorgons, with one movable eye and one tooth between the three grand lama, buddhist pontiff in thibet grendel, monster slain by beowulf gryphon (griffin), a fabulous animal, with the body of a lion and the head and wings of an eagle, dwelling in the rhipaean mountains, between the hyperboreans and the one eyed arimaspians, and guarding the gold of the north, guebers, persian fire worshippers, guendolen, wife of locrine, guenevere, wife of king arthur, beloved by launcelot, guerin, lord of vienne, father of oliver, guiderius, son of cymbeline, guillamurius, king in ireland, guimier, betrothed of caradoc, gullinbursti, the boar drawing frey's car, gulltopp, heimdell's horse, gunfasius, king of the orkneys, ganther, burgundian king, brother of kriemhild, gutrune, half sister to hagen, gwern son of matholch and branwen, gwernach the giant, gwiffert petit, ally of geraint, gwyddno, garanhir, king of gwaelod, gwyr, judge in the court of arthur, gyoll, river, h hades, originally the god of the nether world--the name later used to designate the gloomy subterranean land of the dead, haemon, son of creon of thebes, and lover of antigone, haemonian city, haemus, mount, northern boundary of thrace, hagan, a principal character in the nibelungen lied, slayer of siegfried, halcyone, daughter of aeneas, and the beloved wife of ceyx, who, when he was drowned, flew to his floating body, and the pitying gods changed them both to birds (kingfishers), who nest at sea during a certain calm week in winter ("halcyon weather") hamadryads, tree-nymphs or wood-nymphs, see nymphs harmonia, daughter of mars and venus, wife of cadmus haroun al raschid, caliph of arabia, contemporary of charlemagne harpies, monsters, with head and bust of woman, but wings, legs and tail of birds, seizing souls of the wicked, or punishing evildoers by greedily snatching or defiling their food harpocrates, egyptian god, horus hebe, daughter of juno, cupbearer to the gods hebrus, ancient name of river maritzka hecate, a mighty and formidable divinity, supposed to send at night all kinds of demons and terrible phantoms from the lower world hector, son of priam and champion of troy hector, one of arthur's knights hector de marys', a knight hecuba, wife of priam, king of troy, to whom she bore hector, paris, and many other children hegira, flight of mahomet from mecca to medina ( ad), era from which mahometans reckon time, as we do from the birth of christ heidrun, she goat, furnishing mead for slain heroes in valhalla heimdall, watchman of the gods hel, the lower world of scandinavia, to which were consigned those who had not died in battle hela (death), the daughter of loki and the mistress of the scandinavian hel helen, daughter of jupiter and leda, wife of menelaus, carried off by paris and cause of the trojan war helenus, son of priam and hecuba, celebrated for his prophetic powers heliades, sisters of phaeton helicon, mount, in greece, residence of apollo and the muses, with fountains of poetic inspiration, aganippe and hippocrene helioopolis, city of the sun, in egypt hellas, gieece helle, daughter of thessalian king athamas, who, escaping from cruel father with her brother phryxus, on ram with golden fleece, fell into the sea strait since named for her (see golden fleece) hellespont, narrow strait between europe and asia minor, named for helle hengist, saxon invader of britain, ad hephaestos, see vulcan hera, called juno by the romans, a daughter of cronos (saturn) and rhea, and sister and wife of jupiter, see juno hercules, athletic hero, son of jupiter and alcmena, achieved twelve vast labors and many famous deeds hereward the wake, hero of the saxons hermes (mercury), messenger of the gods, deity of commerce, science, eloquence, trickery, theft, and skill generally hermione, daughter of menelaus and helen hermod, the nimble, son of odin hero, a priestess of venus, beloved of leander herodotus, greek historian hesiod, greek poet hesperia, ancient name for italy hesperides (see apples of the hesperides) hesperus, the evening star (also called day star) hestia, cilled vesta by the romans, the goddess of the hearth hildebrand, german magician and champion hindu triad, brahma, vishnu, and siva hippocrene (see helicon) hippodamia, wife of pirithous, at whose wedding the centaurs offered violence to the bride, causing a great battle hippogriff, winged horse, with eagle's head and claws hippolyta, queen of the amazons hippolytus, son of thesus hippomenes, who won atalanta in foot race, beguiling her with golden apples thrown for her to histion, son of japhet hodur, blind man, who, fooled by loki, threw a mistletoe twig at baldur, killing him hoel, king of brittany homer, the blind poet of greece, about b c hope (see pandora) horae see hours horsa, with hengist, invader of britain horus, egyptian god of the sun houdain, tristram's dog hringham, baldur's ship hrothgar, king of denmark hugi, who beat thialfi in foot races hugin, one of odin's two ravens hunding, husband of sieglinda huon, son of duke sevinus hyacinthus, a youth beloved by apollo, and accidentally killed by him, changed in death to the flower, hyacinth hyades, nysaean nymphs, nurses of infant bacchus, rewarded by being placed as cluster of stars in the heavens hyale, a nymph of diana hydra, nine headed monster slain by hercules hygeia, goddess of health, daughter of aesculapius hylas, a youth detained by nymphs of spring where he sought water hymen, the god of marriage, imagined as a handsome youth and invoked in bridal songs hymettus, mountain in attica, near athens, celebrated for its marble and its honey hyperboreans, people of the far north hyperion, a titan, son of uranus and ge, and father of helios, selene, and eos, cattle of, hyrcania, prince of, betrothed to clarimunda hyrieus, king in greece, i iapetus, a titan, son of uranus and ge, and father of atlas, prometheus, epimetheus, and menoetius, iasius, father of atalanta ibycus, a poet, story of, and the cranes icaria, island of the aegean sea, one of the sporades icarius, spartan prince, father of penelope icarus, son of daedalus, he flew too near the sun with artificial wings, and, the wax melting, he fell into the sea icelos, attendant of morpheus icolumkill see iona ida, mount, a trojan hill idaeus, a trojan herald idas, son of aphareus and arene, and brother of lynceus idu'na, wife of bragi igerne, wife of gorlois, and mother, by uther, of arthur iliad, epic poem of the trojan war, by homer ilioheus, a son of niobe ilium see troy illyria, adriatic countries north of greece imogen, daughter of pandrasus, wife of trojan brutus inachus, son of oceanus and tethys, and father of phoroneus and io, also first king of argos, and said to have given his name to the river inachus incubus, an evil spirit, supposed to lie upon persons in their sleep indra, hindu god of heaven, thunder, lightning, storm and rain ino, wife of athamas, fleeing from whom with infant son she sprang into the sea and was changed to leucothea io, changed to a heifer by jupiter iobates, king of lycia iolaus, servant of hercules iole, sister of dryope iona, or icolmkill, a small northern island near scotland, where st columba founded a missionary monastery ( ad) ionia, coast of asia minor iphigenia, daughter of agamemnon, offered as a sacrifice but carried away by diana iphis, died for love of anaxarete, iphitas, friend of hercules, killed by him iris, goddess of the rainbow, messenger of juno and zeus ironside, arthur's knight isabella, daughter of king of galicia isis, wife of osiris, described as the giver of death isles of the blessed ismarus, first stop of ulysses, returning from trojan war isme'nos, a son of niobe, slain by apollo isolier, friend of rinaldo isoude the fair, beloved of tristram isoude of the white hands, married to tristram isthmian games, see games ithaca, home of ulysses and penelope iulus, son of aeneas ivo, saracen king, befriending rinaldo ixion, once a sovereign of thessaly, sentenced in tartarus to be lashed with serpents to a wheel which a strong wind drove continually around j janiculum, roman fortress on the janiculus, a hill on the other side of the tiber janus, a deity from the earliest times held in high estimation by the romans, temple of japhet (iapetus) jason, leader of the argonauts, seeking the golden fleece joseph of arimathea, who bore the holy graal to europe jotunheim, home of the giants in northern mythology jove (zeus), chief god of roman and grecian mythology, see jupiter joyous garde, residence of sir launcelot of the lake juggernaut, hindu deity juno, the particular guardian spirit of each woman (see genius) juno, wife of jupiter, queen of the gods jupiter, jovis pater, father jove, jupiter and jove used interchangeably, at dodona, statue of the olympian jupiter ammon (see ammon) jupiter capitolinus, temple of, preserving the sibylline books justice, see themis k kadyriath, advises king arthur kai, son of kyner kalki, tenth avatar of vishnu kay, arthur's steward and a knight kedalion, guide of orion kerman, desert of kicva, daughter of gwynn gloy kilwich, son of kilydd kilydd, son of prince kelyddon, of wales kneph, spirit or breath knights, training and life of kriemhild, wife of siegfried krishna, eighth avatar of vishnu, hindu deity of fertility in nature and mankind kyner, father of kav kynon, son of clydno l labyrinth, the enclosed maze of passageways where roamed the minotaur of crete, killed by theseus with aid of ariadne lachesis, one of the fates (which see) lady of the fountain, tale told by kynon laertes, father of ulysses laestrygonians, savages attacking ulysses laius, king of thebes lama, holy man of thibet lampetia, daughter of hyperion laoc'oon, a priest of neptune, in troy, who warned the trojans against the wooden horse (which see), but when two serpents came out of the sea and strangled him and his two sons, the people listened to the greek spy sinon, and brought the fatal horse into the town laodamia, daughter of acastus and wife of protesilaus laodegan, king of carmalide, helped by arthur and merlin laomedon, king of troy lapithae, thessalonians, whose king had invited the centaurs to his daughter's wedding but who attacked them for offering violence to the bride lares, household deities larkspur, flower from the blood of ajax latinus, ruler of latium, where aeneas landed in italy latmos, mount, where diana fell in love with endymion latona, mother of apollo launcelot, the most famous knight of the round table lausus, son of mezentius, killed by aeneas lavinia, daughter of latinus and wife of aeneas lavinium, italian city named for lavinia law, see themis leander, a youth of abydos, who, swimming the hellespont to see hero, his love, was drowned lebadea, site of the oracle of trophomus lebynthos, aegean island leda, queen of sparta, wooed by jupiter in the form of a swan leir, mythical king of britain, original of shakespeare's lear lelaps, dog of cephalus lemnos, large island in the aegean sea, sacred to vulcan lemures, the spectres or spirits of the dead leo, roman emperor, greek prince lethe, river of hades, drinking whose water caused forgetfulness leucadia, a promontory, whence sappho, disappointed in love, was said to have thrown herself into the sea leucothea, a sea goddess, invoked by sailors for protection (see ino) lewis, son of charlemagne liber, ancient god of fruitfulness libethra, burial place of orpheus libya, greek name for continent of africa in general libyan desert, in africa libyan oasis lichas, who brought the shirt of nessus to hercules limours, earl of linus, musical instructor of hercules lionel, knight of the round table llyr, king of britain locrine, son of brutus in albion, king of central england loegria, kingdom of (england) logestilla, a wise lady, who entertained rogero and his friends logi, who vanquished loki in an eating contest loki, the satan of norse mythology, son of the giant farbanti lot, king, a rebel chief, subdued by king arthur, then a loyal knight lotis, a nymph, changed to a lotus-plant and in that form plucked by dryope lotus eaters, soothed to indolence, companions of ulysses landing among them lost all memory of home and had to be dragged away before they would continue their voyage love (eros) issued from egg of night, and with arrows and torch produced life and joy lucan, one of arthur's knights lucius tiberius, roman procurator in britain demanding tribute from arthur lud, british king, whose capital was called lud's town (london) ludgate, city gate where lud was buried, luned, maiden who guided owain to the lady of the fountain lycahas, a turbulent sailor lycaon, son of priam lycia, a district in southern asia minor lycomodes, king of the dolopians, who treacherously slew theseus lycus, usurping king of thebes lynceus, one of the sons of aegyptus m mabinogeon, plural of mabinogi, fairy tales and romances of the welsh mabon, son of modron machaon, son of aesculapius madan, son of guendolen madoc, a forester of king arthur mador, scottish knight maelgan, king who imprisoned elphin maeonia, ancient lydia magi, persian priests mahadeva, same as siva mahomet, great prophet of arabia, born in mecca, ad, proclaimed worship of god instead of idols, spread his religion through disciples and then by force till it prevailed, with arabian dominion, over vast regions in asia, africa, and spain in europe maia, daughter of atlas and pleione, eldest and most beautiful of the pleiades malagigi the enchanter, one of charlemagne's knights maleagans, false knight malvasius, king of iceland mambrino, with invisible helmet manawyd dan, brother of king vran, of london mandricardo, son of agrican mantua, in italy, birthplace of virgil manu, ancestor of mankind marathon, where theseus and pirithous met mark, king of cornwall, husband of isoude the fair maro see virgil marphisa, sister of rogero marsilius, spanish king, treacherous foe of charlemagne marsyas, inventor of the flute, who challenged apollo to musical competition, and, defeated, was flayed alive matsya, the fish, first avatar of vishnu meander, grecian river mede, a, princess and sorceress who aided jason medoro, a young moor, who wins angelica medusa, one of the gorgons megaera, one of the furies melampus, a spartan dog, the first mortal endowed with prophetic powers melanthus, steersman for bacchus meleager, one of the argonauts (see althaea) meliadus, king of lionesse, near cornwall melicertes, infant son of ino. changed to palaemon (see ino, leucothea, and palasmon) melissa, priestess at merlin's tomb melisseus, a cretan king melpomene, one of the muses memnon, the beautiful son of tithonus and eos (aurora), and king of the ethiopians, slain in trojan war memphis, egyptian city menelaus, son of king of sparta, husband of helen menoeceus, son of creon, voluntary victim in war to gain success for his father mentor, son of alcimus and a faithful friend of ulysses mercury (see hermes) merlin, enchanter merope, daughter of king of chios, beloved by orion mesmerism, likened to curative oracle of aesculapius at epidaurus metabus, father of camilla metamorphoses, ovid's poetical legends of mythical transformations, a large source of our knowledge of classic mythology metanira, a mother, kind to ceres seeking proserpine metempsychosis, transmigration of souls--rebirth of dying men and women in forms of animals or human beings metis, prudence, a spouse of jupiter mezentius, a brave but cruel soldier, opposing aeneas in italy midas midgard, the middle world of the norsemen midgard serpent, a sea monster, child of loki milky way, starred path across the sky, believed to be road to palace of the gods milo, a great athlete mlon, father of orlando milton, john, great english poet, whose history of england is here largely used mime, one of the chief dwarfs of ancient german mythology minerva (athene), daughter of jupiter, patroness of health, learning, and wisdom minos, king of crete mino taur, monster killed by theseus mistletoe, fatal to baldur mnemosyne, one of the muses modesty, statue to modred, nephew of king arthur moly, plant, powerful against sorcery momus, a deity whose delight was to jeer bitterly at gods and men monad, the "unit" of pythagoras monsters, unnatural beings, evilly disposed to men montalban, rinaldo's castle month, the, attendant upon the sun moon, goddess of, see diana moraunt, knight, an irish champion morgana, enchantress, the lady of the lake in "orlando furioso," same as morgane le fay in tales of arthur morgane le fay, queen of norway, king arthur's sister, an enchantress morgan tud, arthur's chief physician morpheus, son of sleep and god of dreams morte d'arthur, romance, by sir thomas mallory mulciber, latin name of vulcan mull, island of munin, one of odin's two ravens musaeus, sacred poet, son of orpheus muses, the, nine goddesses presiding over poetry, etc--calliope, epic poetry, clio, history, erato, love poetry, euterpe, lyric poetry; melpomene, tragedy, polyhymnia, oratory and sacred song terpsichore, choral song and dance, thalia, comedy and idyls, urania, astronomy muspelheim, the fire world of the norsemen mycenas, ancient grecian city, of which agamemnon was king myrddin (merlin) myrmidons, bold soldiers of achilles mysia, greek district on northwest coast of asia minor mythology, origin of, collected myths, describing gods of early peoples n naiads, water nymphs namo, duke of bavaria, one of charlemagne's knights nanna, wife of baldur nanters, british king nantes, site of caradoc's castle nape, a dog of diana narcissus, who died of unsatisfied love for his own image in the water nausicaa, daughter of king alcinous, who befriended ulysses nausithous, king of phaeacians naxos, island of negus, king of abyssinia nemea, forest devastated by a lion killed by hercules nemean games, held in honor of jupiter and hercules nemean lion, killed by hercules nemesis, goddess of vengeance nennius, british combatant of caesar neoptolemus, son of achilles nepenthe, ancient drug to cause forgetfulness of pain or distress nephele, mother of phryxus and helle nephthys, egyptian goddess neptune, identical with poseidon, god of the sea nereids, sea nymphs, daughters of nereus and doris nereus, a sea god nessus, a centaur killed by hercules, whose jealous wife sent him a robe or shirt steeped in the blood of nessus, which poisoned him nestor, king of pylos, renowned for his wisdom, justice, and knowledge of war nibelungen hoard, treasure seized by siegfried from the nibelungs, buried in the rhine by hagan after killing siegfried, and lost when hagan was killed by kriemhild, theme of wagner's four music dramas, "the ring of the nibelungen," nibelungen lied, german epic, giving the same nature myth as the norse volsunga saga, concerning the hoard nibelungen ring, wagner's music dramas nibelungs, the, a race of northern dwarfs nidhogge, a serpent in the lower world that lives on the dead niffleheim, mist world of the norsemen, the hades of absent spirits nile, egyptian river niobe, daughter of tantalus, proud queen of thebes, whose seven sons and seven daughters were killed by apollo and diana, at which amphion, her husband, killed himself, and niobe wept until she was turned to stone nisus, king of megara noah, as legendary ancestor of french, roman, german, and british peoples noman, name assumed by ulysses norns, the three scandinavian fates, urdur (the past), verdandi (the present), and skuld (the future) nothung, magic sword notus, southwest wind nox, daughter of chaos and sister of erebus, personification of night numa, second king of rome nymphs, beautiful maidens, lesser divinities of nature dryads and hamadryads, tree nymphs, naiads, spring, brook, and river nymphs, nereids, sea nymphs oreads, mountain nymphs or hill nymphs o oceanus, a titan, ruling watery elements ocyroe, a prophetess, daughter of chiron oderic odin, chief of the norse gods odyar, famous biscayan hero odysseus see ulysses odyssey, homer's poem, relating the wanderings of odysseus (ulysses) on returning from trojan war oedipus, theban hero, who guessed the riddle of the sphinx (which see), becoming king of thebes oeneus, king of calydon oenone, nymph, married by paris in his youth, and abandoned for helen oenopion, king of chios oeta, mount, scene of hercules' death ogier, the dane, one of the paladins of charlemagne oliver, companion of orlando olwen, wife of kilwich olympia, a small plain in elis, where the olympic games were celebrated olympiads, periods between olympic games (four years) olympian games, see games olympus, dwelling place of the dynasty of gods of which zeus was the head omphale, queen of lydia, daughter of iardanus and wife of tmolus ophion, king of the titans, who ruled olympus till dethroned by the gods saturn and rhea ops see rhea oracles, answers from the gods to questions from seekers for knowledge or advice for the future, usually in equivocal form, so as to fit any event, also places where such answers were given forth usually by a priest or priestess orc, a sea monster, foiled by rogero when about to devour angelica oreads, nymphs of mountains and hills orestes, son of agamemnon and clytemnestra, because of his crime in killing his mother, he was pursued by the furies until purified by minerva orion, youthful giant, loved by diana, constellation orithyia, a nymph, seized by boreas orlando, a famous knight and nephew of charlemagne ormuzd (greek, oromasdes), son of supreme being, source of good as his brother ahriman (arimanes) was of evil, in persian or zoroastrian religion orpheus, musician, son of apollo and calliope, see eurydice osiris, the most beneficent of the egyptian gods ossa, mountain of thessaly ossian, celtic poet of the second or third century ovid, latin poet (see metamorphoses) owain, knight at king arthur's court ozanna, a knight of arthur p pactolus, river whose sands were changed to gold by midas paeon, a name for both apollo and aesculapius, gods of medicine, pagans, heathen paladins or peers, knights errant palaemon, son of athamas and ino palamedes, messenger sent to call ulysses to the trojan war palamedes, saracen prince at arthur's court palatine, one of rome's seven hills pales, goddess presiding over cattle and pastures palinurus, faithful steersman of aeeas palladium, properly any image of pallas athene, but specially applied to an image at troy, which was stolen by ulysses and diomedes pallas, son of evander pallas a the'ne (minerva) pampha gus, a dog of diana pan, god of nature and the universe panathenaea, festival in honor of pallas athene (minerva) pandean pipes, musical instrument of reeds, made by pan in memory of syrinx pandora (all gifted), first woman, dowered with gifts by every god, yet entrusted with a box she was cautioned not to open, but, curious, she opened it, and out flew all the ills of humanity, leaving behind only hope, which remained pandrasus, a king in greece, who persecuted trojan exiles under brutus, great grandson of aeneas, until they fought, captured him, and, with his daughter imogen as brutus' wife, emigrated to albion (later called britain) panope, plain of panthus, alleged earlier incarnation of pythagoras paphlagnia, ancient country in asia minor, south of black sea paphos, daughter of pygmalion and galatea (both of which, see) parcae see fates pariahs, lowest caste of hindus paris, son of priam and hecuba, who eloped with helen (which. see) parnassian laurel, wreath from parnassus, crown awarded to successful poets parnassus, mountain near delphi, sacred to apollo and the muses parsees, persian fire worshippers (zoroastrians), of whom there are still thousands in persia and india parthenon, the temple of athene parthenos ("the virgin") on the acropolis of athens passebreul, tristram's horse patroclus, friend of achilles, killed by hector pecheur, king, uncle of perceval peers, the peg a sus, winged horse, born from the sea foam and the blood of medusa peleus, king of the myrmidons, father of achilles by thetis pelias, usurping uncle of jason pelion, mountain pelleas, knight of arthur penates, protective household deities of the romans pendragon, king of britain, elder brother of uther pendragon, who succeeded him penelope, wife of ulysses, who, waiting twenty years for his return from the trojan war, put off the suitors for her hand by promising to choose one when her weaving was done, but unravelled at night what she had woven by day peneus, river god, river penthesilea, queen of amazons pentheus, king of thebes, having resisted the introduction of the worship of bacchus into his kingdom, was driven mad by the god penus, roman house pantry, giving name to the penates pepin, father of charlemagne peplus, sacred robe of minerva perceval, a great knight of arthur perdix, inventor of saw and compasses periander, king of corinuh, friend of arion periphetes, son of vulcan, killed by theseus persephone, goddess of vegetation, see pioserpine perseus, son of jupiter and danae, slayer of the gorgon medusa, deliverer of andromeda from a sea monster, , , phaeacians, people who entertained ulysses phaedra, faithless and cruel wife of theseus phaethusa, sister of phaeton, phaeton, son of phoebus, who dared attempt to drive his father's sun chariot phantasos, a son of somnus, bringing strange images to sleeping men phaon, beloved by sappho phelot, knight of wales pheredin, friend of tristram, unhappy lover of isoude phidias, famous greek sculptor philemon, husband of baucis philoctetes, warrior who lighted the fatal pyre of hercules philoe, burial place of osiris phineus, betrothed to andromeda phlegethon, fiery river of hades phocis phoebe, one of the sisters of phaeton phoebus (apollo), god of music, prophecy, and archery, the sun god phoenix, a messenger to achilles, also, a miraculous bird dying in fire by its own act and springing up alive from its own ashes phorbas, a companion of aeneas, whose form was assumed by neptune in luring palinuras the helmsman from his roost phryxus, brother of helle pinabel, knight pillars of hercules, two mountains--calpe, now the rock of gibraltar, southwest corner of spain in europe, and abyla, facing it in africa across the strait pindar, famous greek poet pindus, grecian mountain pirene, celebrated fountain at corinth pirithous, king of the lapithae in thessaly, and friend of theseus, husband of hippodamia pleasure, daughter of cupid and psyche pleiades, seven of diana's nymphs, changed into stars, one being lost plenty, the horn of plexippus, brother of althea pliny, roman naturalist pluto, the same as hades, dis, etc. god of the infernal regions plutus, god of wealth po, italian river pole star polites, youngest son of priam of troy pollux, castor and (dioscuri, the twins) (see castor) polydectes, king of seriphus polydore, slain kinsman of aeneas, whose blood nourished a bush that bled when broken polyhymnia, muse of oratory and sacred song polyidus, soothsayer polynices, king of thebes polyphemus, giant son of neptune polyxena, daughter of king priam of troy pomona, goddess of fruit trees (see vertumnus) porrex and fer'rex, sons of leir, king of britain portunus, roman name for palaemon poseidon (neptune), ruler of the ocean precipice, threshold of helas hall prester john, a rumored priest or presbyter, a christian pontiff in upper asia, believed in but never found priam, king of troy priwen, arthur's shield procris, beloved but jealous wife of cephalus procrustes, who seized travellers and bound them on his iron bed, stretching the short ones and cutting short the tall, thus also himself served by theseus proetus, jealous of bellerophon prometheus, creator of man, who stole fire from heaven for man's use proserpine, the same as persephone, goddess of all growing things, daughter of ceres, carried off by pluto protesilaus, slain by hector the trojan, allowed by the gods to return for three hours' talk with his widow laodomia proteus, the old man of the sea prudence (metis), spouse of jupiter pryderi, son of pwyll psyche, a beautiful maiden, personification of the human soul, sought by cupid (love), to whom she responded, lost him by curiosity to see him (as he came to her only by night), but finally through his prayers was made immortal and restored to him, a symbol of immortality puranas, hindu scriptures pwyll, prince of dyved pygmalion, sculptor in love with a statue he had made, brought to life by venus, brother of queen dido pygmies, nation of dwarfs, at war with the cranes pylades, son of straphius, friend of orestes pyramus, who loved thisbe, next door neighbor, and, their parents opposing, they talked through cracks in the house wall, agreeing to meet in the near by woods, where pyramus, finding a bloody veil and thinking thisbe slain, killed himself, and she, seeing his body, killed herself (burlesqued in shakespeare's "midsummer night's dream") pyrrha, wife of deucalion pyrrhus (neoptolemus), son of achilles pythagoras, greek philosopher ( bc), who thought numbers to be the essence and principle of all things, and taught transmigration of souls of the dead into new life as human or animal beings pythia, priestess of apollo at delphi pythian games pythian oracle python, serpent springing from deluge slum, destroyed by apollo q quirinus (from quiris, a lance or spear), a war god, said to be romulus, founder of rome r rabican, noted horse ragnarok, the twilight (or ending) of the gods rajputs, minor hindu caste regan, daughter of leir regillus, lake in latium, noted for battle fought near by between the romans and the latins reggio, family from which rogero sprang remus, brother of romulus, founder of rome rhadamanthus, son of jupiter and europa after his death one of the judges in the lower world rhapsodist, professional reciter of poems among the greeks rhea, female titan, wife of saturn (cronos), mother of the chief gods, worshipped in greece and rome rhine, river rhine maidens, or daughters, three water nymphs, flosshilda, woglinda, and wellgunda, set to guard the nibelungen hoard, buried in the rhine rhodes, one of the seven cities claiming to be homer's birthplace rhodope, mountain in thrace rhongomyant, arthur's lance rhoecus, a youth, beloved by a dryad, but who brushed away a bee sent by her to call him to her, and she punished him with blindness rhiannon, wife of pwyll rinaldo, one of the bravest knights of charlemagne river ocean, flowing around the earth robert de beauvais', norman poet ( ) robin hood, famous outlaw in english legend, about time of richard coeur de lion rockingham, forest of rodomont, king of algiers rogero, noted saracen knight roland (orlando), see orlando romances romanus, legendary great grandson of noah rome romulus, founder of rome ron, arthur's lance ronces valles', battle of round table king arthur's instituted by merlin the sage for pendragon, arthur's father, as a knightly order, continued and made famous by arthur and his knights runic characters, or runes, alphabetic signs used by early teutonic peoples, written or graved on metal or stone rutulians, an ancient people in italy, subdued at an early period by the romans ryence, king in ireland s sabra, maiden for whom severn river was named, daughter of locrine and estrildis thrown into river severn by locrine's wife, transformed to a river nymph, poetically named sabrina sacripant, king of circassia saffire, sir, knight of arthur sagas, norse tales of heroism, composed by the skalds sagramour, knight of arthur st. michael's mount, precipitous pointed rock hill on the coast of brittany, opposite cornwall sakyasinha, the lion, epithet applied to buddha salamander, a lizard like animal, fabled to be able to live in fire salamis, grecian city salmoneus, son of aeolus and enarete and brother of sisyphus salomon, king of brittany, at charlemagne's court samhin, or "fire of peace," a druidical festival samian sage (pythagoras) samos, island in the aegean sea samothracian gods, a group of agricultural divinities, worshipped in samothrace samson, hebrew hero, thought by some to be original of hercules san greal (see graal, the holy) sappho, greek poetess, who leaped into the sea from promontory of leucadia in disappointed love for phaon saracens, followers of mahomet sarpedon, son of jupiter and europa, killed by patroclus saturn (cronos) saturnalia, a annual festival held by romans in honor of saturn saturnia, an ancient name of italy satyrs, male divinities of the forest, half man, half goat scaliger, famous german scholar of th century scandinavia, mythology of, giving account of northern gods, heroes, etc scheria, mythical island, abode of the phaeacians schrimnir, the boar, cooked nightly for the heroes of valhalla becoming whole every morning scio, one of the island cities claiming to be homer's birthplace scopas, king of thessaly scorpion, constellation scylla, sea nymph beloved by glaucus, but changed by jealous circe to a monster and finally to a dangerous rock on the sicilian coast, facing the whirlpool charybdis, many mariners being wrecked between the two, also, daughter of king nisus of megara, who loved minos, besieging her father's city, but he disliked her disloyalty and drowned her, also, a fair virgin of sicily, friend of sea nymph galatea scyros, where theseus was slain scythia, country lying north of euxine sea semele, daughter of cadmus and, by jupiter, mother of bacchus semiramis, with ninus the mythical founder of the assyrian empire of nineveh senapus, king of abyssinia, who entertained astolpho serapis, or hermes, egyptian divinity of tartarus and of medicine serfs, slaves of the land seriphus, island in the aegean sea, one of the cyclades serpent (northern constellation) sestos, dwelling of hero (which see also leander) "seven against thebes," famous greek expedition severn river, in england sevinus, duke of guienne shalott, the lady of shatriya, hindu warrior caste sherasmin, french chevalier sibyl, prophetess of cumae sichaeus, husband of dido seige perilous, the chair of purity at arthur's round table, fatal to any but him who was destined to achieve the quest of the sangreal (see galahad) siegfried, young king of the netherlands, husband of kriemhild, she boasted to brunhild that siegfried had aided gunther to beat her in athletic contests, thus winning her as wife, and brunhild, in anger, employed hagan to murder siegfried. as hero of wagner's "valkyrie," he wins the nibelungen treasure ring, loves and deserts brunhild, and is slain by hagan sieglinda, wife of hunding, mother of siegfried by siegmund siegmund, father of siegfried sigtryg, prince, betrothed of king alef's daughter, aided by hereward siguna, wife of loki silenus, a satyr, school master of bacchus silures (south wales) silvia, daughter of latin shepherd silvius, grandson of aeneas, accidentally killed in the chase by his son brutus simonides, an early poet of greece sinon, a greek spy, who persuaded the trojans to take the wooden horse into their city sirens, sea nymphs, whose singing charmed mariners to leap into the sea, passing their island, ulysses stopped the ears of his sailors with wax, and had himself bound to the mast so that he could hear but not yield to their music sirius, the dog of orion, changed to the dog star sisyphus, condemned in tartarus to perpetually roll up hill a big rock which, when the top was reached, rolled down again siva, the destroyer, third person of the hindu triad of gods skalds, norse bards and poets skidbladnir, freyr's ship skirnir, frey's messenger, who won the god's magic sword by getting him gerda for his wife skrymir, a giant, utgard loki in disguise, who fooled thor in athletic feats skuld, the norn of the future sleep, twin brother of death sleipnir, odin's horse sobrino, councillor to agramant somnus, child of nox, twin brother of mors, god of sleep sophocles, greek tragic dramatist south wind see notus spar'ta, capital of lacedaemon sphinx, a monster, waylaying the road to thebes and propounding riddles to all passers, on pain of death, for wrong guessing, who killed herself in rage when aedipus guessed aright spring stonehenge, circle of huge upright stones, fabled to be sepulchre of pendragon strophius, father of pylades stygian realm, hades stygian sleep, escaped from the beauty box sent from hades to venus by hand of psyche, who curiously opened the box and was plunged into unconsciousness styx, river, bordering hades, to be crossed by all the dead sudras, hindu laboring caste surtur, leader of giants against the gods in the day of their destruction (norse mythology) surya, hindu god of the sun, corresponding to the greek helios sutri, orlando's birthplace svadilfari, giant's horse swan, leda and sybaris, greek city in southern italy, famed for luxury sylvanus, latin divinity identified with pan symplegades, floating rocks passed by the argonauts syrinx, nymph, pursued by pan, but escaping by being changed to a bunch of reeds (see pandean pipes) t tacitus, roman historian taenarus, greek entrance to lower regions tagus, river in spain and portugal taliesin, welsh bard tanais, ancient name of river don tantalus, wicked king, punished in hades by standing in water that retired when he would drink, under fruit trees that withdrew when he would eat tarchon, etruscan chief tarentum, italian city tarpeian rock, in rome, from which condemned criminals were hurled tarquins, a ruling family in early roman legend tauris, grecian city, site of temple of diana (see iphigenia) taurus, a mountain tartarus, place of confinement of titans, etc, originally a black abyss below hades later, represented as place where the wicked were punished, and sometimes the name used as synonymous with hades teirtu, the harp of telamon, greek hero and adventurer, father of ajax telemachus, son of ulysses and penelope tellus, another name for rhea tenedos, an island in aegean sea terminus, roman divinity presiding over boundaries and frontiers terpsichore, muse of dancing terra, goddess of the earth tethys, goddess of the sea teucer, ancient king of the trojans thalia, one of the three graces thamyris, thracian bard, who challenged the muses to competition in singing, and, defeated, was blinded thaukt, loki disguised as a hag thebes, city founded by cadmus and capital of boeotia themis, female titan, law counsellor of jove theodora, sister of prince leo theron, one of diana's dogs thersites, a brawler, killed by achilles thescelus, foe of perseus, turned to stone by sight of gorgon's head theseum, athenian temple in honor of theseus theseus, son of aegeus and aethra, king of athens, a great hero of many adventures thessaly thestius, father of althea thetis, mother of achilles thialfi, thor's servant this'be, babylonian maiden beloved by pyramus thor, the thunderer, of norse mythology, most popular of the gods thrace thrina'kia, island pasturing hyperion's cattle, where ulysses landed, but, his men killing some cattle for food, their ship was wrecked by lightning thrym, giant, who buried thor's hammer thucydides, greek historian tiber, river flowing through rome tiber, father, god of the river tigris, river tintadel, castle of, residence of king mark of cornwall tiresias, a greek soothsayer tisiphone, one of the furies titans, the sons and daughters of uranus (heaven) and gaea (earth), enemies of the gods and overcome by them tithonus, trojan prince tityus, giant in tartarus tmolus, a mountain god tortoise, second avatar of vishnu tours, battle of (see abdalrahman and charles martel) toxeus, brother of melauger's mother, who snatched from atalanta her hunting trophy, and was slain by melauger, who had awarded it to her triad, the hindu triads, welsh poems trimurti, hindu triad triptol'emus, son of celeus , and who, made great by ceres, founded her worship in eleusis tristram, one of arthur's knights, husband of isoude of the white hands, lover of isoude the fair, triton, a demi god of the sea, son of poseidon (neptune) and amphitrite troezen, greek city of argolis trojan war trojanova, new troy, city founded in britain (see brutus, and lud) trophonius, oracle of, in boeotia troubadours, poets and minstrels of provence, in southern france trouvers', poets and minstrels of northern france troy, city in asia minor, ruled by king priam, whose son, paris, stole away helen, wife of menelaus the greek, resulting in the trojan war and the destruction of troy troy, fall of turnus, chief of the rutulianes in italy, unsuccessful rival of aeneas for lavinia turpin, archbishop of rheims turquine, sir, a great knight, foe of arthur, slain by sir launcelot typhon, one of the giants who attacked the gods, were defeated, and imprisoned under mt. aetna tyr, norse god of battles tyre, phoenician city governed by dido tyrians tyrrheus, herdsman of king turnus in italy, the slaying of whose daughter's stag aroused war upon aeneas and his companions u uberto, son of galafron ulysses (greek, odysseus), hero of the odyssey unicorn, fabled animal with a single horn urania, one of the muses, a daughter of zeus by mnemosyne urdur, one of the norns or fates of scandinavia, representing the past usk, british river utgard, abode of the giant utgard loki utgard lo'ki, king of the giants (see skrymir) uther (uther pendragon), king of britain and father of arthur, uwaine, knight of arthur's court v vaissyas, hindu caste of agriculturists and traders valhalla, hall of odin, heavenly residence of slain heroes valkyrie, armed and mounted warlike virgins, daughters of the gods (norse), odin's messengers, who select slain heroes for valhalla and serve them at their feasts ve, brother of odin vedas, hindu sacred scriptures venedotia, ancient name for north wales venus (aphrodite), goddess of beauty venus de medici, famous antique statue in uffizi gallery, florence, italy verdandi, the present, one of the norns vertumnus, god of the changing seasons, whose varied appearances won the love of pomona vesta, daughter of cronos and rhea, goddess of the homefire, or hearth vestals, virgin priestesses in temple of vesta vesuvius, mount, volcano near naples villains, peasants in the feudal scheme vigrid, final battle-field, with destruction of the gods ind their enemies, the sun, the earth, and time itself vili, brother of odin and ve virgil, celebrated latin poet (see aeneid) virgo, constellation of the virgin, representing astraea, goddess of innocence and purity vishnu, the preserver, second of the three chief hindu gods viviane, lady of magical powers, who allured the sage merlin and imprisoned him in an enchanted wood volscens, rutulian troop leader who killed nisus and euryalus volsung, a saga, an icelandic poem, giving about the same legends as the nibelungen lied vortigern, usurping king of britain, defeated by pendragon , vulcan (greek, haephestus), god of fire and metal working, with forges under aetna, husband of venus vya'sa, hindu sage w wain, the, constellation wellgunda, one of the rhine-daughters welsh language western ocean winds, the winter woden, chief god in the norse mythology, anglo saxon for odin woglinda, one of the rhine-daughters woman, creation of wooden horse, the, filled with armed men, but left outside of troy as a pretended offering to minerva when the greeks feigned to sail away, accepted by the trojans (see sinon, and laocoon), brought into the city, and at night emptied of the hidden greek soldiers, who destroyed the town wood nymphs wotan, old high german form of odin x xanthus, river of asia minor y yama, hindu god of the infernal regions year, the ygdrasil, great ash-tree, supposed by norse mythology to support the universe ymir, giant, slain by odin ynywl, earl, host of geraint, father of enid york, britain yserone, niece of arthur, mother of caradoc yspa da den pen'kawr, father of olwen z zendavesta, persian sacred scriptures zephyrus, god of the south wind, zerbino, a knight, son of the king of scotland zetes, winged warrior, companion of theseus zethus, son of jupiter and antiope, brother of amphion. see dirce zeus, see jupiter zoroaster, founder of the persian religion, which was dominant in western asia from about bc to about ad, and is still held by many thousands in persia and in india transcriber's notes: . passages in italics are surrounded by _underscores_; " in bold are surrounded by single =equals=; " in bold gothic font are surrounded by double ==equals==; . a detailed list of typographical corrections and other transcription notes appears at the end of this e-text. . a translation of the celtic passage below is thought to be: "i sense the smell of a sweet lying irishman on my home turf." [illustration: more celtic fairy tales] more celtic fairy tales _say this_ _three times, with your eyes shut_ ==mothuighim boladh an Éireannaigh bhinn bhreugaigh faoi m'fhóidín dúthaigh.== _and you will see_ _what you will see_ [illustration: ·the·golden·bird·flies·away·with·the·apple·] more celtic fairy tales _selected and edited by_ joseph jacobs late editor of "folk-lore" _illustrated by_ john d. batten [illustration] new york: g. p. putnam's sons london: d. nutt [_rights of translation and reproduction reserved_] _to the many unknown little friends i have made by the former books of this series_ preface for the last time, for the present, i give the children of the british isles a selection of fairy tales once or still existing among them. the story store of great britain and ireland is, i hope, now adequately represented in the four volumes which have won me so many little friends, and of which this is the last. my collections have dealt with the two folk-lore regions of these isles on different scales. the "english" region, including lowland scotland and running up to the highland line, is, i fancy, as fully represented in "english" and "more english fairy tales" as it is ever likely to be. but the celtic district, including the whole of ireland and the gaelic-speaking part of scotland, still offers a rich harvest to the collector, and will not be exhausted for many a long day. the materials already collected are far richer than those which the "english" region afford, and it has accordingly been my aim in the two volumes devoted to the celts, rather to offer specimens of the crop than to exhaust the field. in the present volume i have proceeded on much the same lines as those which i laid down for myself in compiling its predecessor. in making my selection i have attempted to select the tales common both to erin and alba. i have included, as specimen of the irish mediæval hero tales, one of the three sorrowful tales of erin: "the tale of the children of lir." for the "drolls" or "comic relief" of the volume, i have again drawn upon the inexhaustible kennedy, while the great j. f. campbell still stands out as the most prominent figure in the history of the celtic fairy tale. in my method of telling i have continued the practice which i adopted in the previous volume: where i considered the language too complicated for children, i have simplified; where an incident from another parallel version seemed to add force to the narrative i have inserted it; and in each case mentioned the fact in the corresponding notes. as former statements of mine on this point have somewhat misled my folk-lore friends, i should, perhaps, add that the alterations on this score have been much slighter than they have seemed, and have not affected anything of value to the science of folk-lore. i fear i am somewhat of a heretic with regard to the evidential value of folk-tales regarded as _capita mortua_ of anthropology. the ready transit of a folk-tale from one district to another of the same linguistic area, robs it to my mind of any anthropological or ethnographical value; but on this high topic i have discoursed elsewhere. this book, like the others of this series, has only been rendered possible by the courtesy and complaisance of the various collectors from whom i have culled my treasures. in particular, i have to thank mr. larminie and mr. eliot stock for permission to include that fine tale "morraha" from the former's "west irish folk-tales," the chief addition to the celtic store since the appearance of my last volume. i have again to thank dr. hyde for permission to use another tale from his delightful collection. mr. curtin has been good enough to place at my disposal another of the tales collected by him in connaught, and my colleague, mr. duncan, has translated for me a droll from the erse. above all, i have to thank mr. alfred nutt for constant supervision over my selection and over my comments upon it. mr. nutt, by his own researches, and by the encouragement and aid he has given to the researches of others on celtic folk-lore, has done much to replace the otherwise irreparable loss of campbell. with this volume i part, at any rate for a time, from the pleasant task which has engaged my attention for the last four years. for the "english" folk-lore district i have attempted to do what the brothers grimm did for germany, so far as that was possible at this late day. but for the celtic area i can claim no such high function; here the materials are so rich that it would tax the resources of a whole clan of grimms to exhaust the field, and those celtic grimms must be celts themselves, or at any rate fully familiar with the gaelic. here then is a task for the newly revived local patriotism of ireland and the highlands. i have done little more than spy the land, and bring back some specimen bunches from the celtic vine. it must be for others, celts themselves, to enter in and possess the promised land. joseph jacobs. contents (for nos. i.-xxvi., see "celtic fairy tales") page xxvii. the fate of the children of lir xxviii. jack the cunning thief xxix. powel, prince of dyfed xxx. paddy o'kelly and the weasel xxxi. the black horse xxxii. the vision of macconglinney xxxiii. dream of owen o'mulready xxxiv. morraha xxxv. the story of the macandrew family xxxvi. the farmer of liddesdale xxxvii. the greek princess and the young gardener xxxviii. the russet dog xxxix. smallhead and the king's sons xl. the legend of knockgrafton xli. elidore xlii. the leeching of kayn's leg xliii. how fin went to the kingdom of the big men xliv. how cormac mac art went to faery xlv. the ridere of riddles xlvi. the tail notes and references full-page illustrations the golden bird _frontispiece_ the children of lir _to face page_ the black horse " morraha " the greek princess " the bridge of blood " koisha kayn " warning to readers " [full-page illustrations, initials, and cuts from blocks supplied by messrs. j. c. drummond & co.] [illustration] the fate of the children of lir [illustration: i] it happened that the five kings of ireland met to determine who should have the head kingship over them, and king lir of the hill of the white field expected surely he would be elected. when the nobles went into council together they chose for head king, dearg, son of daghda, because his father had been so great a druid and he was the eldest of his father's sons. but lir left the assembly of the kings and went home to the hill of the white field. the other kings would have followed after lir to give him wounds of spear and wounds of sword for not yielding obedience to the man to whom they had given the over-lordship. but dearg the king would not hear of it and said: "rather let us bind him to us by the bonds of kinship, so that peace may dwell in the land. send over to him for wife the choice of the three maidens of the fairest form and best repute in erin, the three daughters of oilell of aran, my own three bosom-nurslings." so the messengers brought word to lir that dearg the king would give him a foster-child of his foster-children. lir thought well of it, and set out next day with fifty chariots from the hill of the white field. and he came to the lake of the red eye near killaloe. and when lir saw the three daughters of oilell, dearg the king said to him: "take thy choice of the maidens, lir." "i know not," said lir, "which is the choicest of them all; but the eldest of them is the noblest, it is she i had best take." "if so," said dearg the king, "ove is the eldest, and she shall be given to thee, if thou willest." so lir and ove were married and went back to the hill of the white field. and after this there came to them twins, a son and a daughter, and they gave them for names fingula and aod. and two more sons came to them, fiachra and conn. when they came ove died, and lir mourned bitterly for her, and but for his great love for his children he would have died of his grief. and dearg the king grieved for lir and sent to him and said: "we grieve for ove for thy sake; but, that our friendship may not be rent asunder, i will give unto thee her sister, oifa, for a wife." so lir agreed, and they were united, and he took her with him to his own house. and at first oifa felt affection and honour for the children of lir and her sister, and indeed every one who saw the four children could not help giving them the love of his soul. lir doted upon the children, and they always slept in beds in front of their father, who used to rise at early dawn every morning and lie down among his children. but thereupon the dart of jealousy passed into oifa on account of this and she came to regard the children with hatred and enmity. one day her chariot was yoked for her and she took with her the four children of lir in it. fingula was not willing to go with her on the journey, for she had dreamed a dream in the night warning her against oifa: but she was not to avoid her fate. and when the chariot came to the lake of the oaks, oifa said to the people: "kill the four children of lir and i will give you your own reward of every kind in the world." but they refused and told her it was an evil thought she had. then she would have raised a sword herself to kill and destroy the children, but her own womanhood and her weakness prevented her; so she drove the children of lir into the lake to bathe, and they did as oifa told them. as soon as they were upon the lake she struck them with a druid's wand of spells and wizardry and put them into the forms of four beautiful, perfectly white swans, and she sang this song over them: "out with you upon the wild waves, children of the king! henceforth your cries shall be with the flocks of birds." and fingula answered: "thou witch! we know thee by thy right name! thou mayest drive us from wave to wave, but sometimes we shall rest on the headlands; we shall receive relief, but thou punishment. though our bodies may be upon the lake, our minds at least shall fly homewards." and again she spoke: "assign an end for the ruin and woe which thou hast brought upon us." oifa laughed and said: "never shall ye be free until the woman from the south be united to the man from the north, until lairgnen of connaught wed deoch of munster; nor shall any have power to bring you out of these forms. nine hundred years shall you wander over the lakes and streams of erin. this only i will grant unto you: that you retain your own speech, and there shall be no music in the world equal to yours, the plaintive music you shall sing." this she said because repentance seized her for the evil she had done. and then she spake this lay: "away from me, ye children of lir, henceforth the sport of the wild winds until lairgnen and deoch come together, until ye are on the north-west of red erin. "a sword of treachery is through the heart of lir, of lir the mighty champion, yet though i have driven a sword. my victory cuts me to the heart." then she turned her steeds and went on to the hall of dearg the king. the nobles of the court asked her where were the children of lir, and oifa said: "lir will not trust them to dearg the king." but dearg thought in his own mind that the woman had played some treachery upon them, and he accordingly sent messengers to the hall of the white field. lir asked the messengers: "wherefore are ye come?" "to fetch thy children, lir," said they. "have they not reached you with oifa?" said lir. [illustration: children of lir] "they have not," said the messengers; "and oifa said it was you would not let the children go with her." then was lir melancholy and sad at heart, hearing these things, for he knew that oifa had done wrong upon his children, and he set out towards the lake of the red eye. and when the children of lir saw him coming fingula sang the lay: "welcome the cavalcade of steeds approaching the lake of the red eye, a company dread and magical surely seek after us. "let us move to the shore, o aod, fiachra and comely conn, no host under heaven can those horsemen be but king lir with his mighty household." now as she said this king lir had come to the shores of the lake and heard the swans speaking with human voices. and he spake to the swans and asked them who they were. fingula answered and said: "we are thy own children, ruined by thy wife, sister of our own mother, through her ill mind and her jealousy." "for how long is the spell to be upon you?" said lir. "none can relieve us till the woman from the south and the man from the north come together, till lairgnen of connaught wed deoch of munster." then lir and his people raised their shouts of grief, crying, and lamentation, and they stayed by the shore of the lake listening to the wild music of the swans until the swans flew away, and king lir went on to the hall of dearg the king. he told dearg the king what oifa had done to his children. and dearg put his power upon oifa and bade her say what shape on earth she would think the worst of all. she said it would be in the form of an air-demon. "it is into that form i shall put you," said dearg the king, and he struck her with a druid's wand of spells and wizardry and put her into the form of an air-demon. and she flew away at once, and she is still an air-demon, and shall be so for ever. but the children of lir continued to delight the milesian clans with the very sweet fairy music of their songs, so that no delight was ever heard in erin to compare with their music until the time came appointed for the leaving the lake of the red eye. then fingula sang this parting lay: "farewell to thee, dearg the king, master of all druid's lore! farewell to thee, our father dear, lir of the hill of the white field! "we go to pass the appointed time away and apart from the haunts of men in the current of the moyle, our garb shall be bitter and briny, "until deoch come to lairgnen. so come, ye brothers of once ruddy cheeks; let us depart from this lake of the red eye, let us separate in sorrow from the tribe that has loved us." and after they took to flight, flying highly, lightly, aerially till they reached the moyle, between erin and albain. the men of erin were grieved at their leaving, and it was proclaimed throughout erin that henceforth no swan should be killed. then they stayed all solitary, all alone, filled with cold and grief and regret, until a thick tempest came upon them and fingula said: "brothers, let us appoint a place to meet again if the power of the winds separate us." and they said: "let us appoint to meet, o sister, at the rock of the seals." then the waves rose up and the thunder roared, the lightnings flashed, the sweeping tempest passed over the sea, so that the children of lir were scattered from each other over the great sea. there came, however, a placid calm after the great tempest and fingula found herself alone, and she said this lay: "woe upon me that i am alive! my wings are frozen to my sides. o beloved three, o beloved three, who hid under the shelter of my feathers, until the dead come back to the living i and the three shall never meet again!" and she flew to the lake of the seals and soon saw conn coming towards her with heavy step and drenched feathers, and fiachra also, cold and wet and faint, and no word could they tell, so cold and faint were they: but she nestled them under her wings and said: "if aod could come to us now our happiness would be complete." but soon they saw aod coming towards them with dry head and preened feathers: fingula put him under the feathers of her breast, and fiachra under her right wing, and conn under her left: and they made this lay: "bad was our stepmother with us, she played her magic on us, sending us north on the sea in the shapes of magical swans. "our bath upon the shore's ridge is the foam of the brine-crested tide, our share of the ale feast is the brine of the blue-crested sea." one day they saw a splendid cavalcade of pure white steeds coming towards them, and when they came near they were the two sons of dearg the king who had been seeking for them to give them news of dearg the king and lir their father. "they are well," they said, "and live together happy in all except that ye are not with them, and for not knowing where ye have gone since the day ye left the lake of the red eye." "happy are not we," said fingula, and she sang this song: "happy this night the household of lir, abundant their meat and their wine. but the children of lir--what is their lot? for bed-clothes we have our feathers, and as for our food and our wine-- the white sand and the bitter brine, fiachra's bed and conn's place under the cover of my wings on the moyle, aod has the shelter of my breast, and so side by side we rest." so the sons of dearg the king came to the hall of lir and told the king the condition of his children. then the time came for the children of lir to fulfil their lot, and they flew in the current of the moyle to the bay of erris, and remained there till the time of their fate, and then they flew to the hill of the white field and found all desolate and empty, with nothing but unroofed green raths and forests of nettles--no house, no fire, no dwelling-place. the four came close together, and they raised three shouts of lamentation aloud, and fingula sang this lay: "uchone! it is bitterness to my heart to see my father's place forlorn-- no hounds, no packs of dogs, no women, and no valiant kings. "no drinking-horns, no cups of wood, no drinking in its lightsome halls. uchone! i see the state of this house that its lord our father lives no more. "much have we suffered in our wandering years, by winds buffeted, by cold frozen; now has come the greatest of our pain-- there lives no man who knoweth us in the house where we were born." so the children of lir flew away to the glory isle of brandan the saint, and they settled upon the lake of the birds until the holy patrick came to erin and the holy mac howg came to glory isle. and the first night he came to the island the children of lir heard the voice of his bell ringing for matins, so that they started and leaped about in terror at hearing it; and her brothers left fingula alone. "what is it, beloved brothers?" said she. "we know not what faint, fearful voice it is we have heard." then fingula recited this lay: "listen to the cleric's bell, poise your wings and raise thanks to god for his coming, be grateful that you hear him. "he shall free you from pain, and bring you from the rocks and stones. ye comely children of lir listen to the bell of the cleric." and mac howg came down to the brink of the shore and said to them: "are ye the children of lir?" "we are indeed," said they. "thanks be to god!" said the saint; "it is for your sakes i have come to this isle beyond every other island in erin. come ye to land now and put your trust in me." so they came to land, and he made for them chains of bright white silver, and put a chain between aod and fingula and a chain between conn and fiachra. it happened at this time that lairgnen was prince of connaught and he was to wed deoch the daughter of the king of munster. she had heard the account of the birds and she became filled with love and affection for them, and she said she would not wed till she had the wondrous birds of glory isle. lairgnen sent for them to the saint mac howg. but the saint would not give them, and both lairgnen and deoch went to glory isle. and lairgnen went to seize the birds from the altar: but as soon as he had laid hands on them their feathery coats fell off, and the three sons of lir became three withered bony old men, and fingula, a lean withered old woman without blood or flesh. lairgnen started at this and left the place hastily, but fingula chanted this lay: "come and baptise us, o cleric, clear away our stains! this day i see our grave-- fiachra and conn on each side, and in my lap, between my two arms, place aod, my beauteous brother." after this lay, the children of lir were baptised. and they died, and were buried as fingula had said, fiachra and conn on either side, and aod before her face. a cairn was raised for them, and on it their names were written in runes. and that is the fate of the children of lir. jack the cunning thief [illustration: t] there was a poor farmer who had three sons, and on the same day the three boys went to seek their fortune. the eldest two were sensible, industrious young men; the youngest never did much at home that was any use. he loved to be setting snares for rabbits, and tracing hares in the snow, and inventing all sorts of funny tricks to annoy people at first and then set them laughing. the three parted at cross-roads, and jack took the lonesomest. the day turned out rainy, and he was wet and weary, you may depend, at nightfall, when he came to a lonesome house a little off the road. "what do you want?" said a blear-eyed old woman, that was sitting at the fire. "my supper and a bed to be sure," said he. "you can't get it," said she. "what's to hinder me?" said he. "the owners of the house is," said she, "six honest men that does be out mostly till three or four o'clock in the morning, and if they find you here they'll skin you alive at the very least." "well, i think," said jack, "that their very most couldn't be much worse. come, give me something out of the cupboard, for here i'll stay. skinning is not much worse than catching your death of cold in a ditch or under a tree such a night as this." _begonins_ she got afraid, and gave him a good supper; and when he was going to bed he said if she let any of the six honest men disturb him when they came home she'd sup sorrow for it. when he awoke in the morning, there were six ugly-looking spalpeens standing round his bed. he leaned on his elbow, and looked at them with great contempt. "who are you," said the chief, "and what's your business?" "my name," says he, "is master thief, and my business just now is to find apprentices and workmen. if i find you any good, maybe i'll give you a few lessons." bedad they were a little cowed, and says the head man, "well, get up, and after breakfast, we'll see who is to be the master, and who the journeyman." they were just done breakfast, when what should they see but a farmer driving a fine large goat to market. "will any of you," says jack, "undertake to steal that goat from the owner before he gets out of the wood, and that without the smallest violence?" "i couldn't do it," says one; and "i couldn't do it," says another. "i'm your master," says jack, "and i'll do it." he slipped out, went through the trees to where there was a bend in the road, and laid down his right brogue in the very middle of it. then he ran on to another bend, and laid down his left brogue and went and hid himself. when the farmer sees the first brogue, he says to himself, "that would be worth something if it had the fellow, but it is worth nothing by itself." he goes on till he comes to the second brogue. "what a fool i was," says he, "not to pick up the other! i'll go back for it." so he tied the goat to a sapling in the hedge, and returned for the brogue. but jack, who was behind a tree had it already on his foot, and when the man was beyond the bend he picked up the other and loosened the goat, and led him off through the wood. ochone! the poor man couldn't find the first brogue, and when he came back he couldn't find the second, nor neither his goat. "_mile mollacht_!" says he, "what will i do after promising johanna to buy her a shawl. i must only go and drive another beast to the market unknownst. i'd never hear the last of it if joan found out what a fool i made of myself." the thieves were in great admiration at jack, and wanted him to tell them how he had done the farmer, but he wouldn't tell them. by-and-by, they see the poor man driving a fine fat wether the same way. "who'll steal that wether," says jack, "before it's out of the wood, and no roughness used?" "i couldn't," says one; and "i couldn't," says another. "i'll try," says jack. "give me a good rope." the poor farmer was jogging along and thinking of his misfortune, when he sees a man hanging from the bough of a tree. "lord save us!" says he, "the corpse wasn't there an hour ago." he went on about half a quarter of a mile, and, there was another corpse again hanging over the road. "god between us and harm," said he, "am i in my right senses?" there was another turn about the same distance, and just beyond it the third corpse was hanging. "oh, murdher!" said he; "i'm beside myself. what would bring three hung men so near one another? i must be mad. i'll go back and see if the others are there still." he tied the wether to a sapling, and back he went. but when he was round the bend, down came the corpse, and loosened the wether, and drove it home through the wood to the robbers' house. you all may think how the poor farmer felt when he could find no one dead or alive going or coming, nor his wether, nor the rope that fastened him. "oh, misfortunate day!" cried he, "what'll joan say to me now? my morning gone, and the goat and wether lost! i must sell something to make the price of the shawl. well, the fat bullock is in the nearest field. she won't see me taking it." well, if the robbers were not surprised when jack came into the bawn with the wether! "if you do another trick like this," said the captain, "i'll resign the command to you." they soon saw the farmer going by again, driving a fat bullock this time. "who'll bring that fat bullock here," says jack, "and use no violence?" "i couldn't," says one; and "i couldn't," says another. "i'll try," says jack, and away he went into the wood. the farmer was about the spot where he saw the first brogue, when he heard the bleating of a goat off at his right in the wood. he cocked his ears, and the next thing he heard was the maaing of a sheep. "blood alive!" says he, "maybe these are my own that i lost." there was more bleating and more maaing. "there they are as sure as a gun," says he, and he tied his bullock to a sapling that grew in the hedge, and away he went into the wood. when he got near the place where the cries came from, he heard them a little before him, and on he followed them. at last, when he was about half a mile from the spot where he tied the beast, the cries stopped altogether. after searching and searching till he was tired, he returned for his bullock; but there wasn't the ghost of a bullock there, nor any where else that he searched. this time, when the thieves saw jack and his prize coming into the bawn, they couldn't help shouting out, "jack must be our chief." so there was nothing but feasting and drinking hand to fist the rest of the day. before they went to bed, they showed jack the cave where their money was hid, and all their disguises in another cave, and swore obedience to him. one morning, when they were at breakfast, about a week after, said they to jack, "will you mind the house for us to-day while we are at the fair of mochurry? we hadn't a spree for ever so long: you must get your turn whenever you like." "never say't twice," says jack, and off they went. after they were gone says jack to the wicked housekeeper, "do these fellows ever make you a present?" "ah, catch them at it! indeed, and they don't, purshuin to 'em." "well, come along with me, and i'll make you a rich woman." [illustration] he took her to the treasure cave; and while she was in raptures, gazing at the heaps of gold and silver, jack filled his pockets as full as they could hold, put more into a little bag, and walked out, locking the door on the old hag, and leaving the key in the lock. he then put on a rich suit of clothes, took the goat, and the wether, and the bullock, and drove them before him to the farmer's house. joan and her husband were at the door; and when they saw the animals, they clapped their hands and laughed for joy. "do you know who owns them bastes, neighbours?" "maybe we don't! sure they're ours." "i found them straying in the wood. is that bag with ten guineas in it that's hung round the goat's neck yours?" "faith, it isn't." "well, you may as well keep it for a godsend; i don't want it." "heaven be in your road, good gentleman!" jack travelled on till he came to his father's house in the dusk of the evening. he went in. "god save all here!" "god save you kindly, sir!" "could i have a night's lodging here?" "oh, sir, our place isn't fit for the likes of a gentleman such as you." "oh, _musha_, don't you know your own son?" well, they opened their eyes, and it was only a strife to see who'd have him in their arms first. "but, jack asthore, where did you get the fine clothes?" "oh, you may as well ask me where i got all that money?" said he, emptying his pockets on the table. well, they got in a great fright, but when he told them his adventures, they were easier in mind, and all went to bed in great content. "father," says jack, next morning, "go over to the landlord, and tell him i wish to be married to his daughter." "faith, i'm afraid he'd only set the dogs at me. if he asks me how you made your money, what'll i say?" "tell him i am a master thief, and that there is no one equal to me in the three kingdoms; that i am worth a thousand pounds, and all taken from the biggest rogues unhanged. speak to him when the young lady is by." "it's a droll message you're sending me on: i'm afraid it won't end well." the old man came back in two hours. "well, what news?" "droll news, enough. the lady didn't seem a bit unwilling: i suppose it's not the first time you spoke to her; and the squire laughed, and said you would have to steal the goose off o' the spit in his kitchen next sunday, and he'd see about it." "o! that won't be hard, any way." next sunday, after the people came from early mass, the squire and all his people were in the kitchen, and the goose turning before the fire. the kitchen door opened, and a miserable old beggar man with a big wallet on his back put in his head. "would the mistress have anything for me when dinner is over, your honour?" "to be sure. we have no room here for you just now; sit in the porch for a while." "god bless your honour's family, and yourself!" soon some one that was sitting near the window cried out, "oh, sir, there's a big hare scampering like the divil round the bawn. will we run out and pin him?" "pin a hare indeed! much chance you'd have; sit where you are." that hare made his escape into the garden, but jack that was in the beggar's clothes soon let another out of the bag. "oh, master, there he is still pegging round. he can't make his escape: let us have a chase. the hall door is locked on the inside, and mr. jack can't get in." "stay quiet, i tell you." in a few minutes he shouted out again that the hare was there still, but it was the third that jack was just after giving its liberty. well, by the laws, they couldn't be kept in any longer. out pegged every mother's son of them, and the squire after them. "will i turn the spit, your honour, while they're catching the _hareyeen_?" says the beggar. "do, and don't let any one in for your life." "faith, an' i won't, you may depend on it." the third hare got away after the others, and when they all came back from the hunt, there was neither beggar nor goose in the kitchen. "purshuin' to you, jack," says the landlord, "you've come over me this time." well, while they were thinking of making out another dinner, a messenger came from jack's father to beg that the squire, and the mistress, and the young lady would step across the fields, and take share of what god sent. there was no dirty mean pride about the family, and they walked over, and got a dinner with roast turkey, and roast beef, and their own roast goose; and the squire had like to burst his waistcoat with laughing at the trick, and jack's good clothes and good manners did not take away any liking the young lady had for him already. while they were taking their punch at the old oak table in the nice clean little parlour with the sanded floor, says the squire, "you can't be sure of my daughter, jack, unless you steal away my six horses from under the six men that will be watching them to-morrow night in the stable." "i'll do more than that," says jack, "for a pleasant look from the young lady"; and the young lady's cheeks turned as red as fire. monday night the six horses were in their stalls, and a man on every horse, and a good glass of whisky under every man's waistcoat, and the door was left wide open for jack. they were merry enough for a long time, and joked and sung, and were pitying the poor fellow. but the small hours crept on, and the whisky lost its power, and they began to shiver and wish it was morning. a miserable old colliach, with half a dozen bags round her, and a beard half an inch long on her chin came to the door. "ah, then, tendher-hearted christians," says she, "would you let me in, and allow me a wisp of straw in the corner; the life will be froze out of me, if you don't give me shelter." well, they didn't see any harm in that, and she made herself as snug as she could, and they soon saw her pull out a big black bottle, and take a sup. she coughed and smacked her lips, and seemed a little more comfortable, and the men couldn't take their eyes off her. "gorsoon," says she, "i'd offer you a drop of this, only you might think it too free-making." "oh, hang all impedent pride," says one, "we'll take it, and thankee." so she gave them the bottle, and they passed it round, and the last man had the manners to leave half a glass in the bottom for the old woman. they all thanked her, and said it was the best drop ever passed their tongue. "in throth, agras," said she, "it's myself that's glad to show how i value your kindness in giving me shelter; i'm not without another _buideal_, and you may pass it round while myself finishes what the dasent man left me." well, what they drank out of the other bottle only gave them a relish for more, and by the time the last man got to the bottom, the first man was dead asleep in the saddle, for the second bottle had a sleepy posset mixed with the whisky. the beggar woman lifted each man down, and laid him in the manger, or under the manger, snug and sausty, drew a stocking over every horse's hoof, and led them away without any noise to one of jack's father's outhouses. the first thing the squire saw next morning was jack riding up the avenue, and five horses stepping after the one he rode. "confound you, jack!" says he, "and confound the numskulls that let you outwit them!" he went out to the stable, and didn't the poor fellows look very lewd o' themselves, when they could be woke up in earnest! "after all," says the squire, when they were sitting at breakfast, "it was no great thing to outwit such ninny-hammers. i'll be riding out on the common from one to three to-day, and if you can outwit me of the beast i'll be riding, i'll say you deserve to be my son-in-law." "i'd do more than that," says jack, "for the honour, if there was no love at all in the matter," and the young lady held up her saucer before her face. well, the squire kept riding about and riding about till he was tired, and no sign of jack. he was thinking of going home at last, when what should he see but one of his servants running from the house as if he was mad. "oh masther, masther," says he, as far as he could be heard, "fly home if you wish to see the poor mistress alive! i'm running for the surgeon. she fell down two flights of stairs, and her neck, or her hips, or both her arms are broke, and she's speechless, and it's a mercy if you find the breath in her. fly as fast as the baste will carry you." "but hadn't you better take the horse? it's a mile and a half to the surgeon's." "oh, anything you like, master. oh, _vuya, vuya!_ misthress _alanna_, that i should ever see the day! and your purty body disfigured as it is!" "here, stop your noise, and be off like wildfire! oh, my darling, my darling, isn't this a trial?" he tore home like a fury, and wondered to see no stir outside, and when he flew into the hall, and from that to the parlour, his wife and daughter that were sewing at the table screeched out at the rush he made, and the wild look that was on his face. "oh, my darling!" said he, when he could speak, "how's this? are you hurt? didn't you fall down the stairs? what happened at all? tell me!" "why, nothing at all happened, thank god, since you rode out; where did you leave the horse?" well, no one could describe the state he was in for about a quarter of an hour, between joy for his wife and anger with jack, and _sharoose_ for being tricked. he saw the beast coming up the avenue, and a little gorsoon in the saddle with his feet in the stirrup leathers. the servant didn't make his appearance for a week; but what did he care with jack's ten golden guineas in his pocket. jack didn't show his nose till next morning, and it was a queer reception he met. [illustration] "that was all foul play you gave," says the squire. "i'll never forgive you for the shock you gave me. but then i am so happy ever since, that i think i'll give you only one trial more. if you will take away the sheet from under my wife and myself to-night, the marriage may take place to-morrow." "we'll try," says jack, "but if you keep my bride from me any longer, i'll steal her away if she was minded by fiery dragons." when the squire and his wife were in bed, and the moon shining in through the window, he saw a head rising over the sill to have a peep, and then bobbing down again. "that's jack," says the squire; "i'll astonish him a bit," says the squire, pointing a gun at the lower pane. "oh lord, my dear!" says the wife, "sure, you wouldn't shoot the brave fellow?" "indeed, an' i wouldn't for a kingdom; there's nothing but powder in it." up went the head, bang went the gun, down dropped the body, and a great souse was heard on the gravel walk. "oh, lord," says the lady, "poor jack is killed or disabled for life." "i hope not," says the squire, and down the stairs he ran. he never minded to shut the door, but opened the gate and ran into the garden. his wife heard his voice at the room door, before he could be under the window and back, as she thought. "wife, wife," says he from the door, "the sheet, the sheet! he is not killed, i hope, but he is bleeding like a pig. i must wipe it away as well as i can, and get some one to carry him in with me." she pulled it off the bed, and threw it to him. down he ran like lightning, and he had hardly time to be in the garden, when he was back, and this time he came back in his shirt, as he went out. "high hanging to you, jack," says he, "for an arrant rogue!" "arrant rogue?" says she, "isn't the poor fellow all cut and bruised?" "i didn't much care if he was. what do you think was bobbing up and down at the window, and sossed down so heavy on the walk? a man's clothes stuffed with straw, and a couple of stones." "and what did you want with the sheet just now, to wipe his blood if he was only a man of straw?" "sheet, woman! i wanted no sheet." "well, whether you wanted it or not, i threw it to you, and you standing outside o' the door." "oh, jack, jack, you terrible tinker!" says the squire, "there's no use in striving with you. we must do without the sheet for one night. we'll have the marriage to-morrow to get ourselves out of trouble." so married they were, and jack turned out a real good husband. and the squire and his lady were never tired of praising their son-in-law, "jack the cunning thief." powel, prince of dyfed. [illustration: p] powel, prince of dyfed, was lord of the seven cantrevs of dyfed; and once upon a time powel was at narberth, his chief palace, where a feast had been prepared for him, and with him was a great host of men. and after the first meal, powel arose to walk, and he went to the top of a mound that was above the palace, and was called gorseth arberth. "lord," said one of the court, "it is peculiar to the mound that whosoever sits upon it cannot go thence without either receiving wounds or blows, or else seeing a wonder." "i fear not to receive wounds and blows in the midst of such a host as this; but as to the wonder, gladly would i see it. i will go, therefore, and sit upon the mound." and upon the mound he sat. and while he sat there, they saw a lady, on a pure white horse of large size, with a garment of shining gold around her, coming along the highway that led from the mound; and the horse seemed to move at a slow and even pace, and to be coming up towards the mound. "my men," said powel, "is there any among you who knows yonder lady?" "there is not, lord," said they. "go one of you and meet her, that we may know who she is." and one of them arose; and as he came upon the road to meet her she passed by, and he followed as fast as he could, being on foot; and the greater was his speed, the farther was she from him. and when he saw that it profited him nothing to follow her, he returned to powel, and said unto him, "lord, it is idle for any one in the world to follow her on foot." "verily," said powel, "go unto the palace, and take the fleetest horse that thou seest, and go after her." and he took a horse and went forward. and he came to an open level plain, and put spurs to his horse; and the more he urged his horse, the farther was she from him. yet she held the same pace as at first. and his horse began to fail; and when his horse's feet failed him, he returned to the place where powel was. "lord," said he, "it will avail nothing for any one to follow yonder lady. i know of no horse in these realms swifter than this, and it availed me not to pursue her." "of a truth," said powel, "there must be some illusion here. let us go towards the palace." so to the palace they went, and they spent that day. and the next day they arose, and that also they spent until it was time to go to meat. and after the first meal, "verily," said powel, "we will go, the same party as yesterday, to the top of the mound. do thou," said he to one of his young men, "take the swiftest horse that thou knowest in the field." and thus did the young man. they went towards the mound, taking the horse with them. and as they were sitting down they beheld the lady on the same horse, and in the same apparel, coming along the same road. "behold," said powel, "here is the lady of yesterday. make ready, youth, to learn who she is." "my lord," said he "that will i gladly do." and thereupon the lady came opposite to them. so the youth mounted his horse; and before he had settled himself in his saddle, she passed by, and there was a clear space between them. but her speed was no greater than it had been the day before. then he put his horse into an amble, and thought, that, notwithstanding the gentle pace at which his horse went, he should soon overtake her. but this availed him not: so he gave his horse the reins. and still he came no nearer to her than when he went at a foot's pace. the more he urged his horse, the farther was she from him. yet she rode not faster than before. when he saw that it availed not to follow her, he returned to the place where powel was. "lord," said he, "the horse can no more than thou hast seen." "i see indeed that it avails not that any one should follow her. and by heaven," said he, "she must needs have an errand to some one in this plain, if her haste would allow her to declare it. let us go back to the palace." and to the palace they went, and they spent that night in songs and feasting, as it pleased them. the next day they amused themselves until it was time to go to meat. and when meat was ended, powel said, "where are the hosts that went yesterday and the day before to the top of the mound?" "behold, lord, we are here," said they. "let us go," said he, "to the mound to sit there. and do thou," said he to the page who tended his horse, "saddle my horse well, and hasten with him to the road, and bring also my spurs with thee." and the youth did thus. they went and sat upon the mound. and ere they had been there but a short time, they beheld the lady coming by the same road, and in the same manner, and at the same pace. "young man," said powel, "i see the lady coming: give me my horse." and no sooner had he mounted his horse than she passed him. and he turned after her, and followed her. and he let his horse go bounding playfully, and thought that at the second step or the third he should come up with her. but he came no nearer to her than at first. then he urged his horse to his utmost speed, yet he found that it availed nothing to follow her. then said powel, "o maiden, for the sake of him who thou best lovest, stay for me." "i will stay gladly," said she, "and it were better for thy horse hadst thou asked it long since." so the maiden stopped, and she threw back that part of her head-dress which covered her face. and she fixed her eyes upon him, and began to talk with him. "lady," asked he, "whence comest thou, and whereunto dost thou journey?" "i journey on mine own errand," said she, "and right glad am i to see thee." "my greeting be unto thee," said he. then he thought that the beauty of all the maidens, and all the ladies that he had ever seen, was as nothing compared to her beauty. "lady," he said, "wilt thou tell me aught concerning thy purpose?" "i will tell thee," said she. "my chief quest was to seek thee." "behold," said powel, "this is to me the most pleasing quest on which thou couldst have come. and wilt thou tell me who thou art?" [illustration: ·i·journey·on·mine·own·errand·] "i will tell thee, lord," said she. "i am rhiannon, the daughter of heveyth hên, and they sought to give me to a husband against my will. but no husband would i have, and that because of my love for thee, neither will i yet have one unless thou reject me. and hither have i come to hear thy answer." "by heaven," said powel, "behold this is my answer. if i might choose among all the ladies and damsels in the world, thee would i choose." "verily," said she, "if thou art thus minded, make a pledge to meet me ere i am given to another." "the sooner i may do so, the more pleasing will it be unto me," said powel, "and wheresoever thou wilt, there will i meet with thee." "i will that thou meet me this day twelvemonth, at the palace of heveyth. and i will cause a feast to be prepared, so that it be ready against thou come." "gladly," said he, "will i keep this tryst." "lord," said she, "remain in health, and be mindful that thou keep thy promise. and now i will go hence." so they parted, and he went back to his hosts and to them of his household. and whatsoever questions they asked him respecting the damsel, he always turned the discourse upon other matters. and when a year from that time was gone, he caused a hundred knights to equip themselves, and to go with him to the palace of heveyth hên. and he came to the palace, and there was great joy concerning him, with much concourse of people, and great rejoicing, and vast preparations for his coming. and the whole court was placed under his orders. and the hall was garnished, and they went to meat, and thus did they sit; heveyth hên was on one side of powel, and rhiannon on the other. and all the rest according to their rank. and they ate and feasted and talked, one with another; and at the beginning of the carousal after the meat, there entered a tall auburn-haired youth, of royal bearing, clothed in a garment of satin. and when he came into the hall he saluted powel and his companions. "the greeting of heaven be unto thee, my soul," said powel. "come thou and sit down." "nay," said he, "a suitor am i; and i will do mine errand." "do so willingly," said powel. "lord," said he, "my errand is unto thee; and it is to crave a boon of thee that i come." "what boon soever thou mayest ask of me, as far as i am able, thou shalt have." "ah," said rhiannon, "wherefore didst thou give that answer?" "has he not given it before the presence of these nobles?" asked the youth. "my soul," said powel, "what is the boon thou askest?" "the lady whom best i love is to be thy bride this night; i come to ask her of thee, with the feast and the banquet that are in this place." and powel was silent because of the answer which he had given. "be silent as long as thou wilt," said rhiannon. "never did man make worse use of his wits than thou hast done." "lady," said he, "i knew not who he was." "behold, this is the man to whom they would have given me against my will," said she. "and he is gwawl the son of clud, a man of great power and wealth; and because of the word thou hast spoken, bestow me upon him, lest shame befall thee." "lady," said he, "i understand not thine answer. never can i do as thou sayest." "bestow me upon him," said she, "and i will cause that i shall never be his." "by what means will that be?" said powel. "in thy hand will i give thee a small bag," said she. "see that thou keep it well, and he will ask of thee the banquet and the feast, and the preparations, which are not in thy power. unto the hosts and the household will i give the feast. and such will be thy answer respecting this. and as concerns myself, i will engage to become his bride this night twelvemonth. and at the end of the year be thou here," said she, "and bring this bag with thee and let thy hundred knights be in the orchard up yonder. and when he is in the midst of joy and feasting, come thou in by thyself, clad in ragged garments, and holding thy bag in thy hand, and ask nothing but a bagful of food: and i will cause that if all the meat and liquor that are in these seven cantrevs were put into it, it would be no fuller than before. and after a great deal has been put therein, he will ask thee whether thy bag will ever be full. say thou then that it never will, until a man of noble birth and of great wealth arise and press the food in the bag with both his feet, saying, 'enough has been put therein.' and i will cause him to go and tread down the food in the bag, and when he does so, turn thou the bag, so that he shall be up over his head in it, and then slip a knot upon the thongs of the bag. let there be also a good bugle-horn about thy neck, and as soon as thou hast bound him in the bag, wind thy horn, and let it be a signal between thee and thy knights. and when they hear the sound of the horn, let them come down upon the palace." "lord," said gwawl, "it is meet that i have an answer to my request." "as much of that thou hast asked as it is in my power to give, thou shalt have," replied powel. "my soul," said rhiannon unto him, "as for the feast and the banquet that are here, i have bestowed them upon the men of dyved, and the household, and the warriors that are with us. these can i not suffer to be given to any. in a year from to-night a banquet shall be prepared for thee in this palace, that i may become thy bride." so gwawl went forth to his possessions, and powel went also back to dyved. and they both spent that year until it was the time for the feast at the palace of heveyth hên. then gwawl the son of clud set out to the feast that was prepared for him, and he came to the palace and was received there with rejoicing. powel also, the chief of annuvyn, came to the orchard with his hundred knights, as rhiannon had commanded him, having the bag with him. and powel was clad in coarse and ragged garments, and wore large clumsy old shoes upon his feet. and when he knew that the carousal after the meat had begun, he went towards the hall, and when he came into the hall, he saluted gwawl the son of clud, and his company, both men and women. "heaven prosper thee!" said gwawl, "and the greeting of heaven be unto thee!" "lord," said he, "may heaven reward thee! i have an errand unto thee." "welcome be thine errand, and, if thou ask of me that which is just, thou shalt have it gladly." "it is fitting," answered he. "i crave but from want; and the boon that i ask is to have this small bag that thou seest filled with meat." "a request within reason is this," said he, "and gladly shalt thou have it. bring him food." [illustration] a great number of attendants arose, and began to fill the bag; but for all that they put into it, it was no fuller than at first. "my soul," said gwawl, "will thy bag be ever full?" "it will not, i declare to heaven," said he, "for all that may be put into it, unless one possessed of lands and domains and treasure shall arise, and tread down with both his feet the food which is within the bag, and shall say, 'enough has been put herein.'" then said rhiannon unto gwawl the son of clud, "rise up quickly." "i will willingly arise," said he. so he rose up, and put his two feet into the bag. and powel turned up the sides of the bag, so that gwawl was over his head in it. and he shut it up quickly, and slipped a knot upon the thongs, and blew his horn. and thereupon behold his household came down upon the palace. and they seized all the host that had come with gwawl, and cast them into his own prison. and powel threw off his rags, and his old shoes, and his tattered array. and as they came in, every one of powel's knights struck a blow upon the bag, and asked, "what is here?" "a badger," said they. and in this manner they played, each of them striking the bag, either with his foot or with a staff. and thus played they with the bag. every one as he came in asked, "what game are you playing at thus?" "the game of badger in the bag," said they. and then was the game of badger in the bag first played. "lord," said the man in the bag, "if thou wouldest but hear me, i merit not to be slain in a bag." said heveyth hên, "lord, he speaks truth. it were fitting that thou listen to him; for he deserves not this." "verily," said powel, "i will do thy counsel concerning him." "behold, this is my counsel then," said rhiannon. "thou art now in a position in which it behoves thee to satisfy suitors and minstrels: let him give unto them in thy stead, and take a pledge from him that he will never seek to revenge that which has been done to him. and this will be punishment enough." "i will do this gladly," said the man in the bag. "and gladly will i accept it," said powel, "since it is the counsel of heveyth and rhiannon." "such, then, is our counsel," answered they. "i accept it," said powel. "seek thyself sureties." "we will be for him," said heveyth, "until his men be free to answer for him." and upon this he was let out of the bag, and his liege-men were liberated. "demand now of gwawl his sureties," said heveyth; "we know which should be taken for him." and heveyth numbered the sureties. said gwawl, "do thou thyself draw up the covenant." "it will suffice me that it be as rhiannon said," answered powel. so unto that covenant were all the sureties pledged. "verily, lord," said gwawl, "i am greatly hurt, and i have many bruises. i have need to be anointed; with thy leave i will go forth. i will leave nobles in my stead to answer for me in all that thou shalt require." "willingly," said powel, "mayest thou do thus." so gwawl went towards his own possessions. and the hall was set in order for powel and the men of his host, and for them also of the palace, and they went to the tables and sat down. and as they had sat that time twelvemonth, so sat they that night. and they ate and feasted, and spent the night in mirth and tranquillity. and next morning, at the break of day, "my lord," said rhiannon, "arise and begin to give thy gifts unto the minstrels. refuse no one to-day that may claim thy bounty." "thus shall it be, gladly," said powel, "both to-day and every day while the feast shall last." so powel arose, and he caused silence to be proclaimed, and desired all the suitors and the minstrels to show and to point out what gifts were to their wish and desire. and this being done, the feast went on, and he denied no one while it lasted. and when the feast was ended, powel said unto heveyth, "my lord, with thy permission, i will set out for dyved to-morrow." "certainly," said heveyth. "may heaven prosper thee! fix also a time when rhiannon may follow thee." said powel, "we will go hence together." "willest thou this, lord?" said heveyth. "yes," answered powel. and the next day they set forward towards dyved, and journeyed to the palace of narberth, where a feast was made ready for them. and there came to them great numbers of the chief men and the most noble ladies of the land, and of these there was none to whom rhiannon did not give some rich gift, either a bracelet, or a ring, or a precious stone. and they ruled the land prosperously both that year and the next. and in the fourth year a son was born to them, and women were brought to watch the babe at night. and the women slept, as did also rhiannon. and when they awoke they looked where they had put the boy, and behold he was not there. and the women were frightened; and, having plotted together, they accused rhiannon of having murdered her child before their eyes. "for pity's sake," said rhiannon, "the lord god knows all things. charge me not falsely. if you tell me this from fear, i assert before heaven that i will defend you." "truly," said they, "we would not bring evil on ourselves for any one in the world." "for pity's sake," said rhiannon, "you will receive no evil by telling the truth." but for all her words, whether fair or harsh, she received but the same answer from the women. and powel the chief of annuvyn arose, and his household and his hosts. and this occurrence could not be concealed; but the story went forth throughout the land, and all the nobles heard it. then the nobles came to powel, and besought him to put away his wife because of the great crime which she had done. but powel answered them that they had no cause wherefore they might ask him to put away his wife. so rhiannon sent for the teachers and the wise men, and as she preferred doing penance to contending with the women, she took upon her a penance. and the penance that was imposed upon her was that she should remain in that palace of narberth until the end of seven years, and that she should sit every day near unto a horse-block that was without the gate; and that she should relate the story to all who should come there whom she might suppose not to know it already; and that she should offer the guests and strangers, if they would permit her, to carry them upon her back into the palace. but it rarely happened that any would permit. and thus did she spend part of the year. now at that time teirnyon twryv vliant was lord of gwent is coed, and he was the best man in the world. and unto his house there belonged a mare than which neither mare nor horse in the kingdom was more beautiful. and on the night of every first of may she foaled, and no one ever knew what became of the colt. and one night teirnyon talked with his wife: "wife," said he, "it is very simple of us that our mare should foal every year, and that we should have none of her colts." "what can be done in the matter?" said she. "this is the night of the first of may," said he. "the vengeance of heaven be upon me, if i learn not what it is that takes away the colts." so he armed himself, and began to watch that night. teirnyon heard a great tumult, and after the tumult behold a claw came through the window into the house, and it seized the colt by the mane. then teirnyon drew his sword, and struck off the arm at the elbow: so that portion of the arm, together with the colt, was in the house with him. and then, did he hear a tumult and wailing both at once. and he opened the door, and rushed out in the direction of the noise, and he could not see the cause of the tumult because of the darkness of the night; but he rushed after it and followed it. then he remembered that he had left the door open, and he returned. and at the door behold there was an infant-boy in swaddling clothes, wrapped around in a mantle of satin. and he took up the boy, and behold he was very strong for the age that he was of. then he shut the door, and went into the chamber where his wife was. "lady," said he, "art thou sleeping?" "no, lord," said she: "i was asleep, but as thou camest in i did awake." "behold, here is a boy for thee, if thou wilt," said he, "since thou hast never had one." "my lord," said she, "what adventure is this?" "it was thus," said teirnyon. and he told her how it all befell. "verily, lord," said she, "what sort of garments are there upon the boy?" "a mantle of satin," said he. [illustration] "he is then a boy of gentle lineage," she replied. and they caused the boy to be baptised, and the ceremony was performed there. and the name which they gave unto him was goldenlocks, because what hair was upon his head was as yellow as gold. and they had the boy nursed in the court until he was a year old. and before the year was over he could walk stoutly; and he was larger than a boy of three years old, even one of great growth and size. and the boy was nursed the second year, and then he was as large as a child six years old. and before the end of the fourth year, he would bribe the grooms to allow him to take the horses to water. "my lord," said his wife unto teirnyon, "where is the colt which thou didst save on the night that thou didst find the boy?" "i have commanded the grooms of the horses," said he, "that they take care of him." "would it not be well, lord," said she, "if thou wert to cause him to be broken in, and given to the boy, seeing that on the same night that thou didst find the boy, the colt was foaled, and thou didst save him?" "i will not oppose thee in this matter," said teirnyon. "i will allow thee to give him the colt." "lord," said she, "may heaven reward thee! i will give it him." so the horse was given to the boy. then she went to the grooms and those who tended the horses, and commanded them to be careful of the horse, so that he might be broken in by the time that the boy could ride him. and while these things were going forward, they heard tidings of rhiannon and her punishment. and teirnyon twryv vliant, by reason of the pity that he felt on hearing this story of rhiannon and her punishment, inquired closely concerning it, until he had heard from many of those who came to his court. then did teirnyon, often lamenting the sad history, ponder with himself; and he looked steadfastly on the boy, and as he looked upon him, it seemed to him that he had never beheld so great a likeness between father and son as between the boy and powel the chief of annuvyn. now the semblance of powel was well known to him, for he had of yore been one of his followers. and thereupon he became grieved for the wrong that he did in keeping with him a boy whom he knew to be the son of another man. and the first time that he was alone with his wife he told her that it was not right that they should keep the boy with them, and suffer so excellent a lady as rhiannon to be punished so greatly on his account, whereas the boy was the son of powel the chief of annuvyn. and teirnyon's wife agreed with him that they should send the boy to powel. "and three things, lord," said she, "shall we gain thereby--thanks and gifts for releasing rhiannon from her punishment, and thanks from powel for nursing his son and restoring him unto him; and, thirdly, if the boy is of gentle nature, he will be our foster-son, and he will do for us all the good in his power." so it was settled according to this counsel. and no later than the next day was teirnyon equipped and two other knights with him. and the boy, as a fourth in their company, went with them upon the horse which teirnyon had given him. and they journeyed towards narberth, and it was not long before they reached that place. and as they drew near to the palace, they beheld rhiannon sitting beside the horse-block. and when they were opposite to her, "chieftain," said she, "go not farther thus: i will bear every one of you into the palace. and this is my penance for slaying my own son, and devouring him." "oh, fair lady," said teirnyon, "think not that i will be one to be carried upon thy back." "neither will i," said the boy. "truly, my soul," said teirnyon, "we will not go." so they went forward to the palace, and there was great joy at their coming. and at the palace a feast was prepared because powel was come back from the confines of dyfed. and they went into the hall and washed, and powel rejoiced to see teirnyon. and in this order they sat: teirnyon between powel and rhiannon, and teirnyon's two companions on the other side of powel, with the boy between them. and after meat they began to carouse and discourse. and teirnyon's discourse was concerning the adventure of the mare and the boy, and how he and his wife had nursed and reared the child as their own. "behold here is thy son, lady," said teirnyon. "and whosoever told that lie concerning thee has done wrong. when i heard of thy sorrow, i was troubled and grieved. and i believe that there is none of this host who will not perceive that the boy is the son of powel," said teirnyon. "there is none," said they all, "who is not certain thereof." "i declare to heaven," said rhiannon, "that if this be true, there is indeed an end to my trouble." "lady," said pendaran dyfed, "well hast thou named thy son pryderi (end of trouble), and well becomes him the name of pryderi son of powel chief of annuvyn." "look you," said rhiannon: "will not his own name become him better?" "what name has he?" asked pendaran dyfed. "goldenlocks is the name that we gave him." "pryderi," said pendaran, "shall his name be." "it were more proper," said powel, "that the boy should take his name from the word his mother spoke when she received the joyful tidings of him." and thus was it arranged. "teirnyon," said powel, "heaven reward thee that thou hast reared the boy up to this time, and, being of gentle lineage, it were fitting that he repay thee for it." "my lord," said teirnyon, "it was my wife who nursed him, and there is no one in the world so afflicted as she at parting with him. it were well that he should bear in mind what i and my wife have done for him." "i call heaven to witness," said powel, "that while i live i will support thee and thy possessions as long as i am able to preserve my own. and when he shall have power, he will more fitly maintain them than i. and if this counsel be pleasing unto thee and to my nobles, it shall be, that, as thou hast reared him up to the present time, i will give him to be brought up by pendaran dyfed from henceforth. and you shall be companions, and shall both be foster-fathers unto him." "this is good counsel," said they all. so the boy was given to pendaran dyfed, and the nobles of the land were sent with him. and teirnyon twryv vliant and his companions set out for his country and his possessions, with love and gladness. and he went not without being offered the fairest jewels, and the fairest horses, and the choicest dogs; but he would take none of them. thereupon they all remained in their own dominions. and pryderi the son of powel the chief of annuvyn was brought up carefully, as was fit, so that he became the fairest youth, and the most comely, and the best skilled in all good games, of any in the kingdom. and thus passed years and years until the end of powel the chief of annuvyn's life came, and he died. paddy o'kelly and the weasel [illustration: a] a long time ago there was once a man of the name of paddy o'kelly, living near tuam, in the county galway. he rose up one morning early, and he did not know what time of day it was, for there was fine light coming from the moon. he wanted to go to the fair of cauher-na-mart to sell a _sturk_ of an ass that he had. he had not gone more than three miles of the road when a great darkness came on, and a shower began falling. he saw a large house among trees about five hundred yards in from the road, and he said to himself that he would go to that house till the shower would be over. when he got to the house he found the door open before him, and in with him. he saw a large room to his left, and a fine fire in the grate. he sat down on a stool that was beside the wall, and began falling asleep, when he saw a big weasel coming to the fire with something yellow in his mouth, which it dropped on the hearth-stone, and then it went away. she soon came back again with the same thing in her mouth, and he saw that it was a guinea she had. she dropped it on the hearth-stone, and went away again. she was coming and going, until there was a great heap of guineas on the hearth. but at last, when she got her gone, paddy rose up, thrust all the gold she had gathered into his pockets, and out with him. he had not gone far till he heard the weasel coming after him, and she screeching as loud as a bag-pipes. she went before paddy and got on the road, and she was twisting herself back and forwards, and trying to get a hold of his throat. paddy had a good oak stick, and he kept her from him, until two men came up who were going to the same fair, and one of them had a good dog, and it routed the weasel into a hole in the wall. paddy went to the fair, and instead of coming home with the money he got for his old ass, as he thought would be the way with him in the morning, he went and bought a horse with some of the money he took from the weasel, and he came home riding. when he came to the place where the dog had routed the weasel into the hole in the wall, she came out before him, gave a leap, and caught the horse by the throat. the horse made off, and paddy could not stop him, till at last he gave a leap into a big drain that was full up of water and black mud, and he was drowning and choking as fast as he could, until men who were coming from galway came up and drove away the weasel. paddy brought the horse home with him, and put him into the cow's byre and fell asleep. next morning, the day on the morrow, paddy rose up early, and went out to give his horse hay and oats. when he got to the door he saw the weasel coming out of the byre and she covered with blood. "my seven thousand curses on you," said paddy, "but i'm afraid you've done harm." [illustration] he went in and found the horse, a pair of milch cows, and two calves dead. he came out and set a dog he had after the weasel. the dog got a hold of her, and she got a hold of the dog. the dog was a good one, but he was forced to loose his hold of her before paddy could come up. he kept his eye on her, however, all through, until he saw her creeping into a little hovel that was on the brink of a lake. paddy came running, and when he got to the little hut he gave the dog a shake to rouse him up and put anger on him, and then he sent him in. when the dog went in he began barking. paddy went in after him, and saw an old hag in the corner. he asked her if she saw a weasel coming in there. "i did not," said she; "i'm all destroyed with a plague of sickness, and if you don't go out quick, you'll catch it from me." while paddy and the hag were talking, the dog kept moving in all the time, till at last he gave a leap and caught the hag by the throat. she screeched and said: "paddy kelly, take off your dog, and i'll make you a rich man." paddy made the dog loose his hold, and said: "tell me who you are, or why did you kill my horse and my cows?" "and why did you bring away my gold that i was gathering for five hundred years throughout the hills and hollows of the world?" "i thought you were a weasel," said paddy, "or i wouldn't touch your gold; and another thing," says he, "if you're for five hundred years in this world, it's time for you to go to rest now." "i committed a great crime in my youth," said the hag, "and now i am to be released from my sufferings if you can pay twenty pounds for a hundred and three-score masses for me." "where's the money?" said paddy. "go and dig under a bush that's over a little well in the corner of that field there without, and you'll get a pot filled with gold. pay the twenty pounds for the masses, and yourself shall have the rest. when you'll lift the flag off the pot, you'll see a big black dog coming out; but don't be afraid before him; he is a son of mine. when you get the gold, buy the house in which you saw me at first. you'll get it cheap, for it has the name of there being a ghost in it. my son will be down in the cellar. he'll do you no harm, but he'll be a good friend to you. i shall be dead a month from this day, and when you get me dead, put a coal under this little hut and burn it. don't tell a living soul anything about me--and the luck will be on you." "what is your name?" said paddy. "mary kerwan," said the hag. paddy went home, and when the darkness of the night came on, he took with him a spade and went to the bush that was in the corner of the field, and began digging. it was not long till he found the pot, and when he took the flag off of it a big black dog leaped out, and off and away with him, and paddy's dog after him. paddy brought home the gold, and hid it in the cow-house. about a month after that he went to the fair of galway, and bought a pair of cows, a horse, and a dozen sheep. the neighbours did not know where he had got all the money; they said that he had a share with the good people. one day paddy dressed himself, and went to the gentleman who owned the large house where he first saw the weasel, and asked to buy the house of him, and the land that was round about. "you can have the house without paying any rent at all; but there is a ghost in it, and i wouldn't like you to go to live in it without my telling you, but i couldn't part with the land without getting a hundred pounds more than you have to offer me." "perhaps i have as much as you have yourself," said paddy. "i'll be here to-morrow with the money, if you're ready to give me possession." "i'll be ready," said the gentleman. paddy went home and told his wife that he had bought a large house and a holding of land. "where did you get the money?" says the wife. "isn't it all one to you where i got it?" says paddy. the day on the morrow paddy went to the gentleman, gave him the money, and got possession of the house and land; and the gentleman left him the furniture and everything that was in the house, into the bargain. paddy remained in the house that night, and when darkness came he went down to the cellar, and he saw a little man with his two legs spread on a barrel. "god save you, honest man," says he to paddy. "the same to you," says paddy. "don't be afraid of me, at all," says the little man. "i'll be a friend to you, if you are able to keep a secret." "i am able, indeed; i kept your mother's secret, and i'll keep yours as well." "maybe you're thirsty?" said the little man. "i'm not free from it," said paddy. the little man put a hand in his bosom and drew out a gold goblet. he gave it to paddy, and said: "draw wine out of that barrel under me." paddy drew the full up of the goblet, and handed it to the little man. "drink yourself first," says he. paddy drank, drew another goblet, and handed it to the little man, and he drank it. "fill up and drink again," said the little man. "i have a mind to be merry to-night." the pair of them sat there drinking until they were half drunk. then the little man gave a leap down to the floor, and said to paddy: "don't you like music?" "i do, surely," said paddy, "and i'm a good dancer, too." "lift up the big flag over there in the corner, and you'll get my pipes under it." paddy lifted the flag, got the pipes, and gave them to the little man. he squeezed the pipes on him, and began playing melodious music. paddy began dancing till he was tired. then they had another drink, and the little man said: "do as my mother told you, and i'll show you great riches. you can bring your wife in here, but don't tell her that i'm there, and she won't see me. any time at all that ale or wine are wanting, come here and draw. farewell, now; go to sleep, and come again to me to-morrow night." paddy went to bed, and it wasn't long till he fell asleep. on the morning of the day on the morrow, paddy went home, and brought his wife and children to the big house, and they were very comfortable. that night paddy went down to the cellar; the little man welcomed him and asked him did he wish to dance? "not till i get a drink," said paddy. "drink your fill," said the little man; "that barrel will never be empty as long as you live." paddy drank the full of the goblet, and gave a drink to the little man. then the little man said to him: "i am going to the fortress of the fairies to-night, to play music for the good people, and if you come with me you'll see fine fun. i'll give you a horse that you never saw the like of him before." "i'll go with you, and welcome," said paddy; "but what excuse will i make to my wife?" "i'll bring you away from her side without her knowing it, when you are both asleep together, and i'll bring you back to her the same way," said the little man. "i'm obedient," says paddy; "we'll have another drink before i leave you." he drank drink after drink, till he was half drunk, and he went to bed with his wife. when he awoke he found himself riding on a broom near doon-na-shee, and the little man riding on another besom by his side. when they came as far as the green hill of the doon, the little man said a couple of words that paddy did not understand. the green hill opened, and the pair went into a fine chamber. paddy never saw before a gathering like that which was in the doon. the whole place was full up of little people, men and women, young and old. they all welcomed little donal--that was the name of the piper--and paddy o'kelly. the king and queen of the fairies came up to them, and said: "we are all going on a visit to-night to cnoc matha, to the high king and queen of our people." they all rose up then and went out. there were horses ready for each one of them, and the _coash-t'ya bower_ for the king and queen. the king and queen got into the coach, each man leaped on his own horse, and be certain that paddy was not behind. the piper went out before them, and began playing them music, and then off and away with them. it was not long till they came to cnoc matha. the hill opened, and the king of the fairy host passed in. finvara and nuala were there, the arch-king and queen of the fairy host of connacht, and thousands of little persons. finvara came up and said: [illustration] "we are going to play a hurling match to-night against the fairy host of munster, and unless we beat them our fame is gone for ever. the match is to be fought out on moytura, under slieve belgadaun." the connacht host cried out: "we are all ready, and we have no doubt but we'll beat them." "out with ye all," cried the high king; "the men of the hill of nephin will be on the ground before us." they all went out, and little donal and twelve pipers more before them, playing melodious music. when they came to moytura, the fairy host of munster and the fairy men of the hill of nephin were there before them. now it is necessary for the fairy host to have two live men beside them when they are fighting or at a hurling match, and that was the reason that little donal took paddy o'kelly with him. there was a man they called the "_yellow stongirya_" with the fairy host of munster, from ennis, in the county clare. [illustration] [illustration] [illustration] it was not long till the two hosts took sides; the ball was thrown up between them, and the fun began in earnest. they were hurling away, and the pipers playing music, until paddy o'kelly saw the host of munster getting the strong hand, and he began helping the fairy host of connacht. the _stongirya_ came up and he made at paddy o'kelly, but paddy turned him head over heels. from hurling the two hosts began at fighting, but it was not long until the host of connacht beat the other host. then the host of munster made flying beetles of themselves, and they began eating every green thing that they came up to. they were destroying the country before them until they came as far as cong. then there rose up thousands of doves out of the hole, and they swallowed down the beetles. that hole has no other name until this day but pull-na-gullam, the dove's hole. when the fairy host of connacht won their battle, they came back to cnoc matha joyous enough, and the king finvara gave paddy o'kelly a purse of gold, and the little piper brought him home, and put him into bed beside his wife, and left him sleeping there. a month went by after that without anything worth mentioning, until one night paddy went down to the cellar, and the little man said to him: "my mother is dead; burn the house over her." "it is true for you," said paddy. "she told me that she hadn't but a month to be in the world, and the month was up yesterday." on the next morning of the next day paddy went to the hut and he found the hag dead. he put a coal under the hut and burned it. he came home and told the little man that the hag was burnt. the little man gave him a purse and said to him: "this purse will never be empty as long as you are alive. now, you will never see me more; but have a loving remembrance of the weasel. she was the beginning and the prime cause of your riches." then he went away and paddy never saw him again. paddy o'kelly and his wife lived for years after this in the large house, and when he died he left great wealth behind him, and a large family to spend it. there now is the story for you, from the first word to the last, as i heard it from my grandmother. the black horse [illustration: o] once there was a king and he had three sons, and when the king died, they did not give a shade of anything to the youngest son, but an old white limping garron. "if i get but this," quoth he, "it seems that i had best go with this same." he was going with it right before him, sometimes walking, sometimes riding. when he had been riding a good while he thought that the garron would need a while of eating, so he came down to earth, and what should he see coming out of the heart of the western airt towards him but a rider riding high, well, and right well. "all hail, my lad," said he. "hail, king's son," said the other. "what's your news?" said the king's son. "i have got that," said the lad who came. "i am after breaking my heart riding this ass of a horse; but will you give me the limping white garron for him?" "no," said the prince; "it would be a bad business for me." "you need not fear," said the man that came, "there is no saying but that you might make better use of him than i. he has one value, there is no single place that you can think of in the four parts of the wheel of the world that the black horse will not take you there." so the king's son got the black horse, and he gave the limping white garron. where should he think of being when he mounted but in the realm underwaves. he went, and before sunrise on the morrow he was there. what should he find when he got there but the son of the king underwaves holding a court, and the people of the realm gathered to see if there was any one who would undertake to go to seek the daughter of the king of the greeks to be the prince's wife. no one came forward, when who should come up but the rider of the black horse. "you, rider of the black horse," said the prince, "i lay you under crosses and under spells to have the daughter of the king of the greeks here before the sun rises to-morrow." he went out and he reached the black horse and leaned his elbow on his mane, and he heaved a sigh. "sigh of a king's son under spells!" said the horse; "but have no care; we shall do the thing that was set before you." and so off they went. "now," said the horse, "when we get near the great town of the greeks, you will notice that the four feet of a horse never went to the town before. the king's daughter will see me from the top of the castle looking out of a window, and she will not be content without a turn of a ride upon me. say that she may have that, but the horse will suffer no man but you to ride before a woman on him." they came near the big town, and he fell to horsemanship; and the princess was looking out of the windows, and noticed the horse. the horsemanship pleased her, and she came out just as the horse had come. [illustration] "give me a ride on the horse," said she. "you shall have that," said he, "but the horse will let no man ride him before a woman but me." "i have a horseman of my own," said she. "if so, set him in front," said he. before the horseman mounted at all, when he tried to get up, the horse lifted his legs and kicked him off. "come then yourself and mount before me," said she; "i won't leave the matter so." he mounted the horse and she behind him, and before she glanced from her she was nearer sky than earth. he was in realm underwaves with her before sunrise. "you are come," said prince underwaves. "i am come," said he. "there you are, my hero," said the prince. "you are the son of a king, but i am a son of success. anyhow, we shall have no delay or neglect now, but a wedding." "just gently," said the princess; "your wedding is not so short a way off as you suppose. till i get the silver cup that my grandmother had at her wedding, and that my mother had as well, i will not marry, for i need to have it at my own wedding." "you, rider of the black horse," said the prince underwaves, "i set you under spells and under crosses unless the silver cup is here before dawn to-morrow." out he went and reached the horse and leaned his elbow on his mane, and he heaved a sigh. "sigh of a king's son under spells!" said the horse; "mount and you shall get the silver cup. the people of the realm are gathered about the king to-night, for he has missed his daughter, and when you get to the palace go in and leave me without; they will have the cup there going round the company. go in and sit in their midst. say nothing, and seem to be as one of the people of the place. but when the cup comes round to you, take it under your oxter, and come out to me with it, and we'll go." away they went and they got to greece, and he went in to the palace and did as the black horse bade. he took the cup and came out and mounted, and before sunrise he was in the realm underwaves. "you are come," said prince underwaves. "i am come," said he. "we had better get married now," said the prince to the greek princess. "slowly and softly," said she. "i will not marry till i get the silver ring that my grandmother and my mother wore when they were wedded." "you, rider of the black horse," said the prince underwaves, "do that. let's have that ring here to-morrow at sunrise." the lad went to the black horse and put his elbow on his crest and told him how it was. "there never was a matter set before me harder than this matter which has now been set in front of me," said the horse, "but there is no help for it at any rate. mount me. there is a snow mountain and an ice mountain and a mountain of fire between us and the winning of that ring. it is right hard for us to pass them." thus they went as they were, and about a mile from the snow mountain they were in a bad case with cold. as they came near it he struck the horse, and with the bound he gave the black horse was on the top of the snow mountain; at the next bound he was on the top of the ice mountain; at the third bound he went through the mountain of fire. when he had passed the mountains he was dragging at the horse's neck, as though he were about to lose himself. he went on before him down to a town below. "go down," said the black horse, "to a smithy; make an iron spike for every bone end in me." down he went as the horse desired, and he got the spikes made, and back he came with them. "stick them into me," said the horse, "every spike of them in every bone end that i have." that he did; he stuck the spikes into the horse. "there is a loch here," said the horse, "four miles long and four miles wide, and when i go out into it the loch will take fire and blaze. if you see the loch of fire going out before the sun rises, expect me, and if not, go your way." out went the black horse into the lake, and the lake became flame. long was he stretched about the lake, beating his palms and roaring. day came, and the loch did not go out. but at the hour when the sun was rising out of the water the lake went out. and the black horse rose in the middle of the water with one single spike in him, and the ring upon its end. [illustration: ·the·black·horse·] he came on shore, and down he fell beside the loch. then down went the rider. he got the ring, and he dragged the horse down to the side of a hill. he fell to sheltering him with his arms about him, and as the sun was rising he got better and better, till about midday, when he rose on his feet. "mount," said the horse, "and let us begone." he mounted on the black horse, and away they went. he reached the mountains, and he leaped the horse at the fire mountain and was on the top. from the mountain of fire he leaped to the mountain of ice, and from the mountain of ice to the mountain of snow. he put the mountains past him, and by morning he was in realm under the waves. "you are come," said the prince. "i am," said he. "that's true," said prince underwaves. "a king's son are you, but a son of success am i. we shall have no more mistakes and delays, but a wedding this time." "go easy," said the princess of the greeks. "your wedding is not so near as you think yet. till you make a castle, i won't marry you. not to your father's castle nor to your mother's will i go to dwell; but make me a castle for which your father's castle will not make washing water." "you, rider of the black horse, make that," said prince underwaves, "before the morrow's sun rises." the lad went out to the horse and leaned his elbow on his neck and sighed, thinking that this castle never could be made for ever. "there never came a turn in my road yet that is easier for me to pass than this," said the black horse. glance that the lad gave from him he saw all that there were, and ever so many wrights and stone masons at work, and the castle was ready before the sun rose. he shouted at the prince underwaves, and he saw the castle. he tried to pluck out his eye, thinking that it was a false sight. "son of king underwaves," said the rider of the black horse, "don't think that you have a false sight; this is a true sight." "that's true," said the prince. "you are a son of success, but i am a son of success too. there will be no more mistakes and delays, but a wedding now." "no," said she. "the time is come. should we not go to look at the castle? there's time enough to get married before the night comes." they went to the castle and the castle was without a "but"---- "i see one," said the prince. "one want at least to be made good. a well to be made inside, so that water may not be far to fetch when there is a feast or a wedding in the castle." "that won't be long undone," said the rider of the black horse. the well was made, and it was seven fathoms deep and two or three fathoms wide, and they looked at the well on the way to the wedding. "it is very well made," said she, "but for one little fault yonder." "where is it?" said prince underwaves. "there," said she. he bent him down to look. she came out, and she put her two hands at his back, and cast him in. "be thou there," said she. "if i go to be married, thou art not the man; but the man who did each exploit that has been done, and, if he chooses, him will i have." away she went with the rider of the little black horse to the wedding. and at the end of three years after that so it was that he first remembered the black horse or where he left him. he got up and went out, and he was very sorry for his neglect of the black horse. he found him just where he left him. "good luck to you, gentleman," said the horse. "you seem as if you had got something that you like better than me." "i have not got that, and i won't; but it came over me to forget you," said he. "i don't mind," said the horse, "it will make no difference. raise your sword and smite off my head." "fortune will now allow that i should do that," said he. "do it instantly, or i will do it to you," said the horse. so the lad drew his sword and smote off the horse's head; then he lifted his two palms and uttered a doleful cry. what should he hear behind him but "all hail, my brother-in-law." he looked behind him, and there was the finest man he ever set eyes upon. "what set you weeping for the black horse?" said he. "this," said the lad, "that there never was born of man or beast a creature in this world that i was fonder of." "would you take me for him?" said the stranger. "if i could think you the horse, i would; but if not, i would rather the horse," said the rider. "i am the black horse," said the lad, "and if i were not, how should you have all these things that you went to seek in my father's house. since i went under spells, many a man have i ran at before you met me. they had but one word amongst them: they could not keep me, nor manage me, and they never kept me a couple of days. but when i fell in with you, you kept me till the time ran out that was to come from the spells. and now you shall go home with me, and we will make a wedding in my father's house." the vision of macconglinney [illustration: c] cathal, king of munster, was a good king and a great warrior. but there came to dwell within him a lawless evil beast, that afflicted him with hunger that ceased not, and might not be satisfied, so that he would devour a pig, a cow, and a bull calf and three-score cakes of pure wheat, and a vat of new ale, for his breakfast, whilst as for his great feast, what he ate there passes account or reckoning. he was like this for three half-years, and during that time it was the ruin of munster he was, and it is likely he would have ruined all ireland in another half-year. now there lived in armagh a famous young scholar and his name was anier macconglinney. he heard of the strange disease of king cathal, and of the abundance of food and drink, of whitemeats, ale and mead, there were always to be found at the king's court. thither then was he minded to go to try his own fortune, and to see of what help he could be to the king. he arose early in the morning and tucked up his shirt and wrapped him in the folds of his white cloak. in his right hand he grasped his even-poised knotty staff, and going right-hand-wise round his home, he bade farewell to his tutors and started off. he journeyed across all ireland till he came to the house of pichan. and there he stayed and told tales, and made all merry. but pichan said: "though great thy mirth, son of learning, it does not make me glad." "and why?" asked macconglinney. "knowest thou not, scholar, that cathal is coming here to-night with all his host. and if the great host is troublesome, the king's first meal is more troublesome still; and troublesome though the first be, most troublesome of all is the great feast. three things are wanted for this last: a bushel of oats, and a bushel of wild apples, and a bushel of flour cakes." "what reward would you give me if i shield you from the king from this hour to the same hour to-morrow?" "a white sheep from every fold between carn and cork." "i will take that," said macconglinney. cathal, the king, came with the companies, and a host of horse of the munster men. but cathal did not let the thong of his shoe be half loosed before he began supplying his mouth with both hands from the apples round about him. pichan and all the men of munster looked on sadly and sorrowfully. then rose macconglinney, hastily and impatiently, and seized a stone, against which swords were used to be sharpened; this he thrust into his mouth and began grinding his teeth against the stone. "what makes thee mad, son of learning?" asked cathal. "i grieve to see you eating alone," said the scholar. then the king was ashamed and flung him the apples, and it is said that for three half-years he had not performed such an act of humanity. "grant me a further boon," said macconglinney. "it is granted, on my troth," said the king. "fast with me the whole night," said the scholar. and grievous though it was to the king, he did so, for he had passed his princely troth, and no king of munster might transgress that. in the morning macconglinney called for juicy old bacon, and tender corned beef, honey in the comb, and english salt on a beautiful polished dish of white silver. a fire he lighted of oak wood without smoke, without fumes, without sparks. and sticking spits into the portion of meat, he set to work to roast them. then he shouted, "ropes and cords here." ropes and cords were given to him, and the strongest of the warriors. and they seized the king and bound him securely, and made him fast with knots and hooks and staples. when the king was thus fastened, macconglinney sat himself down before him, and taking his knife out of his girdle, he carved the portion of meat that was on the spits, and every morsel he dipped in the honey, and, passing it in front of the king's mouth, put it in his own. when the king saw that he was getting nothing, and he had been fasting for twenty-four hours, he roared and bellowed, and commanded the killing of the scholar. but that was not done for him. "listen, king of munster," said macconglinney, "a vision appeared to me last night, and i will relate it to you." he then began his vision, and as he related it he put morsel after morsel past cathal's mouth into his own. "a lake of new milk i beheld in the midst of a fair plain, therein a well-appointed house, thatched with butter. puddings fresh boiled, such were its thatch-rods, its two soft door posts of custard, its beds of glorious bacon. cheeses were the palisades, sausages the rafters. truly 'twas a rich filled house, in which was great store of good feed. "such was the vision i beheld, and a voice sounded into my ears. 'go now, thither, macconglinney, for you have no power of eating in you.' 'what must i do,' said i, for the sight of that had made me greedy. then the voice bade me go to the hermitage of the wizard doctor, and there i should find appetite for all kinds of savoury tender sweet food, acceptable to the body. "there in the harbour of the lake before me i saw a juicy little coracle of beef; its thwarts were of curds, its prow of lard; its stern of butter; its oars were flitches of venison. then i rowed across the wide expanse of the new milk lake, through seas of broth, past river mouths of meat, over swelling boisterous waves of butter milk, by perpetual pools of savoury lard, by islands of cheese, by headlands of old curds, until i reached the firm level land between butter mount and milk lake, in the land of o'early-eating, in front of the hermitage of the wizard doctor. "marvellous, indeed, was the hermitage. around it were seven-score hundred smooth stakes of old bacon, and instead of thorns above the top of every stake was fixed juicy lard. there was a gate of cream, whereon was a bolt of sausage. and there i saw the doorkeeper, bacon lad, son of butterkins, son of lardipole, with his smooth sandals of old bacon, his legging of pot-meat round his shins, his tunic of corned beef, his girdle of salmon skin round him, his hood of flummery about him, his steed of bacon under him, with its four legs of custard, its four hoofs of oaten bread, its ears of curds, its two eyes of honey in its head; in his hand a whip, the cords whereof were four-and-twenty fair white puddings, and every juicy drop that fell from each of these puddings would have made a meal for an ordinary man. "on going in i beheld the wizard doctor with his two gloves of rump steak on his hands, setting in order the house, which was hung all round with tripe, from roof to floor. "i went into the kitchen, and there i saw the wizard doctor's son, with his fishing hook of lard in his hand, and the line was made of marrow, and he was angling in a lake of whey. now he would bring up a flitch of ham, and now a fillet of corned beef. and as he was angling, he fell in, and was drowned. "as i set my foot across the threshold into the house, i saw a pure white bed of butter, on which i sat down, but i sank down into it up to the tips of my hair. hard work had the eight strongest men in the house to pull me out by the top of the crown of my head. "then i was taken in to the wizard doctor. 'what aileth thee?' said he. "my wish would be, that all the many wonderful viands of the world were before me, that i might eat my fill and satisfy my greed. but alas! great is the misfortune to me, who cannot obtain any of these. "'on my word,' said the doctor, 'the disease is grievous. but thou shall take home with thee a medicine to cure thy disease, and shalt be for ever healed therefrom.' "'what is that?' asked i. "'when thou goest home to-night, warm thyself before a glowing red fire of oak, made up on a dry hearth, so that its embers may warm thee, its blaze may not burn thee, its smoke may not touch thee. and make for thyself thrice nine morsels, and every morsel as big as an heath fowl's egg, and in each morsel eight kinds of grain, wheat and barley, oats and rye, and therewith eight condiments, and to every condiment eight sauces. and when thou hast prepared thy food, take a drop of drink, a tiny drop, only as much as twenty men will drink, and let it be of thick milk, of yellow bubbling milk, of milk that will gurgle as it rushes down thy throat.' "'and when thou hast done this, whatever disease thou hast, shall be removed. go now,' said he, 'in the name of cheese, and may the smooth juicy bacon protect thee, may yellow curdy cream protect, may the cauldron full of pottage protect thee.'" now, as macconglinney recited his vision, what with the pleasure of the recital and the recounting of these many pleasant viands, and the sweet savour of the honeyed morsels roasting on the spits, the lawless beast that dwelt within the king, came forth until it was licking its lips outside its head. [illustration] then macconglinney bent his hand with the two spits of food, and put them to the lips of the king, who longed to swallow them, wood, food, and all. so he took them an arm's length away from the king, and the lawless beast jumped from the throat of cathal onto the spit. macconglinney put the spit into the embers, and upset the cauldron of the royal house over the spit. the house was emptied, so that not the value of a cockchafer's leg was left in it, and four huge fires were kindled here and there in it. when the house was a tower of red flame and a huge blaze, the lawless beast sprang to the rooftree of the palace, and from thence he vanished, and was seen no more. as for the king, a bed was prepared for him on a downy quilt, and musicians and singers entertained him going from noon till twilight. and when he awoke, this is what he bestowed upon the scholar--a cow from every farm, and a sheep from every house in munster. moreover, that so long as he lived, he should carve the king's food, and sit at his right hand. thus was cathal, king of munster, cured of his craving, and macconglinney honoured. dream of owen o'mulready [illustration: t] there was a man long ago living near ballaghadereen named owen o'mulready, who was a workman for the gentleman of the place, and was a prosperous, quiet, contented man. there was no one but himself and his wife margaret, and they had a nice little house and enough potatoes in the year, in addition to their share of wages, from their master. there wasn't a want or anxiety on owen, except one desire, and that was to have a dream--for he had never had one. one day when he was digging potatoes, his master--james taafe--came out to his ridge, and they began talking, as was the custom with them. the talk fell on dreams, and said owen that he would like better than anything if he could only have one. "you'll have one to-night," says his master, "if you do as i tell you." "musha, i'll do it, and welcome," says owen. "now," says his master, "when you go home to-night, draw the fire from the hearth, put it out, make your bed in its place and sleep there to-night, and you'll get your enough of dreaming before the morning." owen promised to do this. when, however, he began to draw the fire out, margaret thought that he had lost his senses, so he explained everything james taafe had said to him, had his own way, and they went to lie down together on the hearth. not long was owen asleep when there came a knock at the door. "get up, owen o'mulready, and go with a letter from the master to america." owen got up, and put his feet into his boots, saying to himself, "it's late you come, messenger." he took the letter, and he went forward and never tarried till he came to the foot of sliabh charn, where he met a cow-boy, and he herding cows. "the blessing of god be with you, owen o'mulready," says the boy. "the blessing of god and mary be with you, my boy," says owen. "every one knows me, and i don't know any one at all." "where are you going this time of night?" says the boy. "i'm going to america, with a letter from the master; is this the right road?" says owen. "it is; keep straight to the west; but how are you going to get over the water?" says the boy. "time enough to think of that when i get to it," replied owen. he went on the road again, till he came to the brink of the sea; there he saw a crane standing on one foot on the shore. "the blessing of god be with you, owen o'mulready," says the crane. "the blessing of god and mary be with you, mrs. crane," says owen. "everybody knows me, and i don't know any one." "what are you doing here?" owen told her his business, and that he didn't know how he'd get over the water. "leave your two feet on my two wings, and sit on my back, and i'll take you to the other side," says the crane. "what would i do if tiredness should come on you before we got over?" says owen. "don't be afraid, i won't be tired or wearied till i fly over." then owen went on the back of the crane, and she arose over the sea and went forward, but she hadn't flown more than half-way, when she cried out: "owen o'mulready get off me; i'm tired." "that you may be seven times worse this day twelvemonths, you rogue of a crane," says owen; "i can't get off you now, so don't ask me." "i don't care," replied the crane, "if you'll rise off me a while till i'll take a rest." with that they saw threshers over their heads, and owen shouted: "och! thresher, thresher, leave down your flail at me, that i may give the crane a rest!" the thresher left down the flail, but when owen took a hold with his two hands, the crane went from him laughing and mocking. "my share of misfortunes go with you!" said owen, "it's you've left me in a fix hanging between the heavens and the water in the middle of the great sea." [illustration] it wasn't long till the thresher shouted to him to leave go the flail. "i won't let it go," said owen; "shan't i be drowned?" "if you don't let it go, i'll cut the whang." "i don't care," says owen; "i have the flail"; and with that he looked away from him, and what should he see but a boat a long way off. "o sailor dear, sailor, come, come; perhaps you'll take my lot of bones," said owen. "are we under you now?" says the sailor. "not yet, not yet," says owen. "fling down one of your shoes, till we see the way it falls," says the captain. owen shook one foot, and down fell the shoe. "uill, uill, puil, uil liu--who is killing me?" came a scream from margaret in the bed. "where are you, owen?" "i didn't know whether 'twas you were in it, margaret." "indeed, then it is," says she, "who else would it be?" she got up and lit the candle. she found owen half-way up the chimney, climbing by the hands on the crook, and he black with soot! he had one shoe on, but the point of the other struck margaret, and 'twas that which awoke her. owen came down off the crook and washed himself, and from that out there was no envy on him ever to have a dream again. morraha [illustration: m] morraha rose in the morning and washed his hands and face, and said his prayers, and ate his food; and he asked god to prosper the day for him. so he went down to the brink of the sea, and he saw a currach, short and green, coming towards him; and in it there was but one youthful champion, and he was playing hurly from prow to stern of the currach. he had a hurl of gold and a ball of silver; and he stopped not till the currach was in on the shore; and he drew her up on the green grass, and put fastenings on her for a year and a day, whether he should be there all that time or should only be on land for an hour by the clock. and morraha saluted the young man courteously; and the other saluted him in the same fashion, and asked him would he play a game of cards with him; and morraha said that he had not the wherewithal; and the other answered that he was never without a candle or the making of it; and he put his hand in his pocket and drew out a table and two chairs and a pack of cards, and they sat down on the chairs and went to card-playing. the first game morraha won, and the slender red champion bade him make his claim; and he asked that the land above him should be filled with stock of sheep in the morning. it was well; and he played no second game, but home he went. the next day morraha went to the brink of the sea, and the young man came in the currach and asked him would he play cards; they played, and morraha won. the young man bade him make his claim; and he asked that the land above should be filled with cattle in the morning. it was well; and he played no other game, but went home. on the third morning morraha went to the brink of the sea, and he saw the young man coming. he drew up his boat on the shore and asked him would he play cards. they played, and morraha won the game; and the young man bade him give his claim. and he said he would have a castle and a wife, the finest and fairest in the world; and they were his. it was well; and the red champion went away. on the fourth day his wife asked him how he had found her. and he told her. "and i am going out," said he, "to play again to-day." "i forbid you to go again to him. if you have won so much, you will lose more; have no more to do with him." but he went against her will, and he saw the currach coming; and the red champion was driving his balls from end to end of the currach; he had balls of silver and a hurl of gold, and he stopped not till he drew his boat on the shore, and made her fast for a year and a day. morraha and he saluted each other; and he asked morraha if he would play a game of cards, and they played, and he won. morraha said to him, "give your claim now." said he, "you will hear it too soon. i lay on you bonds of the art of the druid, not to sleep two nights in one house, nor finish a second meal at the one table, till you bring me the sword of light and news of the death of anshgayliacht." he went home to his wife and sat down in a chair, and gave a groan, and the chair broke in pieces. "that is the groan of the son of a king under spells," said his wife; "and you had better have taken my counsel than that the spells should be on you." he told her he had to bring news of the death of anshgayliacht and the sword of light to the slender red champion. "go out," said she, "in the morning of the morrow, and take the bridle in the window, and shake it; and whatever beast, handsome or ugly, puts its head in it, take that one with you. do not speak a word to her till she speaks to you; and take with you three pint bottles of ale and three sixpenny loaves, and do the thing she tells you; and when she runs to my father's land, on a height above the castle, she will shake herself, and the bells will ring, and my father will say, 'brown allree is in the land. and if the son of a king or queen is there, bring him to me on your shoulders; but if it is the son of a poor man, let him come no further.'" he rose in the morning, and took the bridle that was in the window, and went out and shook it; and brown allree came and put her head in it. he took the three loaves and three bottles of ale, and went riding; and when he was riding she bent her head down to take hold of her feet with her mouth, in hopes he would speak in ignorance; but he spoke not a word during the time, and the mare at last spoke to him, and told him to dismount and give her her dinner. he gave her the sixpenny loaf toasted, and a bottle of ale to drink. "sit up now riding, and take good heed of yourself: there are three miles of fire i have to clear at a leap." she cleared the three miles of fire at a leap, and asked if he were still riding, and he said he was. then they went on, and she told him to dismount and give her a meal; and he did so, and gave her a sixpenny loaf and a bottle; she consumed them and said to him there were before them three miles of hill covered with steel thistles, and that she must clear it. she cleared the hill with a leap, and she asked him if he were still riding, and he said he was. they went on, and she went not far before she told him to give her a meal, and he gave her the bread and the bottleful. she went over three miles of sea with a leap, and she came then to the land of the king of france; she went up on a height above the castle, and she shook herself and neighed, and the bells rang; and the king said that it was brown allree was in the land. "go out," said he; "and if it is the son of a king or queen, carry him in on your shoulders; if it is not, leave him there." they went out; and the stars of the son of a king were on his breast; they lifted him high on their shoulders and bore him in to the king. they passed the night cheerfully, playing and drinking, with sport and with diversion, till the whiteness of the day came upon the morrow morning. then the young king told the cause of his journey, and he asked the queen to give him counsel and good luck, and she told him everything he was to do. "go now," said she, "and take with you the best mare in the stable, and go to the door of rough niall of the speckled rock, and knock, and call on him to give you news of the death of anshgayliacht and the sword of light: and let the horse's back be to the door, and apply the spurs, and away with you." in the morning he did so, and he took the best horse from the stable and rode to the door of niall, and turned the horse's back to the door, and demanded news of the death of anshgayliacht and the sword of light; then he applied the spurs, and away with him. niall followed him hard, and, as he was passing the gate, cut the horse in two. his wife was there with a dish of puddings and flesh, and she threw it in his eyes and blinded him, and said, "fool! whatever kind of man it is that's mocking you, isn't that a fine condition you have got your father's horse into?" on the morning of the next day morraha rose, and took another horse from the stable, and went again to the door of niall, and knocked and demanded news of the death of anshgayliacht and the sword of light, and applied the spurs to the horse and away with him. niall followed, and as morraha was passing, the gate cut the horse in two and took half the saddle with him; but his wife met him and threw flesh in his eyes and blinded him. on the third day, morraha went again to the door of niall; and niall followed him, and as he was passing the gate, cut away the saddle from under him and the clothes from his back. then his wife said to niall: "the fool that's mocking you, is out yonder in the little currach, going home; and take good heed to yourself, and don't sleep one wink for three days." for three days the little currach kept in sight, but then niall's wife came to him and said: "sleep as much as you want now. he is gone." he went to sleep, and there was heavy sleep on him, and morraha went in and took hold of the sword that was on the bed at his head. and the sword thought to draw itself out of the hand of morraha; but it failed. then it gave a cry, and it wakened niall, and niall said it was a rude and rough thing to come into his house like that; and said morraha to him: "leave your much talking, or i will cut the head off you. tell me the news of the death of anshgayliacht." "oh, you can have my head." "but your head is no good to me; tell me the story." "oh," said niall's wife, "you must get the story." "well," said niall, "let us sit down together till i tell the story. i thought no one would ever get it; but now it will be heard by all." the story. when i was growing up, my mother taught me the language of the birds; and when i got married, i used to be listening to their conversation; and i would be laughing; and my wife would be asking me what was the reason of my laughing, but i did not like to tell her, as women are always asking questions. we went out walking one fine morning, and the birds were arguing with one another. one of them said to another: "why should you be comparing yourself with me, when there is not a king nor knight that does not come to look at my tree?" "what advantage has your tree over mine, on which there are three rods of magic mastery growing?" when i heard them arguing, and knew that the rods were there, i began to laugh. "oh," asked my wife, "why are you always laughing? i believe it is at myself you are jesting, and i'll walk with you no more." "oh, it is not about you i am laughing. it is because i understand the language of the birds." then i had to tell her what the birds were saying to one another; and she was greatly delighted, and she asked me to go home, and she gave orders to the cook to have breakfast ready at six o'clock in the morning. i did not know why she was going out early, and breakfast was ready in the morning at the hour she appointed. she asked me to go out walking. i went with her. she went to the tree, and asked me to cut a rod for her. "oh, i will not cut it. are we not better without it?" "i will not leave this until i get the rod, to see if there is any good in it." i cut the rod and gave it to her. she turned from me and struck a blow on a stone, and changed it; and she struck a second blow on me, and made of me a black raven, and she went home and left me after her. i thought she would come back; she did not come, and i had to go into a tree till morning. in the morning, at six o'clock, there was a bellman out, proclaiming that every one who killed a raven would get a fourpenny-bit. at last you could not find man or boy without a gun, nor, if you were to walk three miles, a raven that was not killed. i had to make a nest in the top of the parlour chimney, and hide myself all day till night came, and go out to pick up a bit to support me, till i spent a month. here she is herself to say if it is a lie i am telling. [illustration] "it is not," said she. then i saw her out walking. i went up to her, and i thought she would turn me back to my own shape, and she struck me with the rod and made of me an old white horse, and she ordered me to be put to a cart with a man, to draw stones from morning till night. i was worse off then. she spread abroad a report that i had died suddenly in my bed, and prepared a coffin, and waked and buried me. then she had no trouble. but when i got tired i began to kill every one who came near me, and i used to go into the haggard every night and destroy the stacks of corn; and when a man came near me in the morning i would follow him till i broke his bones. every one got afraid of me. when she saw i was doing mischief she came to meet me, and i thought she would change me. and she did change me, and made a fox of me. when i saw she was doing me every sort of damage i went away from her. i knew there was a badger's hole in the garden, and i went there till night came, and i made great slaughter among the geese and ducks. there she is herself to say if i am telling a lie. "oh! you are telling nothing but the truth, only less than the truth." when she had enough of my killing the fowl she came out into the garden, for she knew i was in the badger's hole. she came to me and made me a wolf. i had to be off, and go to an island, where no one at all would see me, and now and then i used to be killing sheep, for there were not many of them, and i was afraid of being seen and hunted; and so i passed a year, till a shepherd saw me among the sheep and a pursuit was made after me. and when the dogs came near me there was no place for me to escape to from them; but i recognised the sign of the king among the men, and i made for him, and the king cried out to stop the hounds. i took a leap upon the front of the king's saddle, and the woman behind cried out, "my king and my lord, kill him, or he will kill you!" "oh! he will not kill me. he knew me; he must be pardoned." the king took me home with him, and gave orders i should be well cared for. i was so wise, when i got food, i would not eat one morsel until i got a knife and fork. the man told the king, and the king came to see if it was true, and i got a knife and fork, and i took the knife in one paw and the fork in the other, and i bowed to the king. the king gave orders to bring him drink, and it came; and the king filled a glass of wine and gave it to me. i took hold of it in my paw and drank it, and thanked the king. "on my honour," said he, "it is some king or other has lost him, when he came on the island; and i will keep him, as he is trained; and perhaps he will serve us yet." and this is the sort of king he was,--a king who had not a child living. eight sons were born to him and three daughters, and they were stolen the same night they were born. no matter what guard was placed over them, the child would be gone in the morning. a twelfth child now came to the queen, and the king took me with him to watch the baby. the women were not satisfied with me. "oh," said the king, "what was all your watching ever good for? one that was born to me i have not; i will leave this one in the dog's care, and he will not let it go." a coupling was put between me and the cradle, and when every one went to sleep i was watching till the person woke who attended in the daytime; but i was there only two nights; when it was near the day, i saw a hand coming down through the chimney, and the hand was so big that it took round the child altogether, and thought to take him away. i caught hold of the hand above the wrist, and as i was fastened to the cradle, i did not let go my hold till i cut the hand from the wrist, and there was a howl from the person without. i laid the hand in the cradle with the child, and as i was tired i fell asleep; and when i awoke, i had neither child nor hand; and i began to howl, and the king heard me, and he cried out that something was wrong with me, and he sent servants to see what was the matter with me, and when the messenger came he saw me covered with blood, and he could not see the child; and he went to the king and told him the child was not to be got. the king came and saw the cradle coloured with the blood, and he cried out "where was the child gone?" and every one said it was the dog had eaten it. the king said: "it is not: loose him, and he will get the pursuit himself." [illustration: morraha] when i was loosed, i found the scent of the blood till i came to a door of the room in which the child was. i went back to the king and took hold of him, and went back again and began to tear at the door. the king followed me and asked for the key. the servant said it was in the room of the stranger woman. the king caused search to be made for her, and she was not to be found. "i will break the door," said the king, "as i can't get the key." the king broke the door, and i went in, and went to the trunk, and the king asked for a key to unlock it. he got no key, and he broke the lock. when he opened the trunk, the child and the hand were stretched side by side, and the child was asleep. the king took the hand and ordered a woman to come for the child, and he showed the hand to every one in the house. but the stranger woman was gone, and she did not see the king;--and here she is herself to say if i am telling lies of her. "oh, it's nothing but the truth you have!" the king did not allow me to be tied any more. he said there was nothing so much to wonder at as that i cut the hand off, as i was tied. the child was growing till he was a year old. he was beginning to walk, and no one cared for him more than i did. he was growing till he was three, and he was running out every minute; so the king ordered a silver chain to be put between me and the child, that he might not go away from me. i was out with him in the garden every day, and the king was as proud as the world of the child. he would be watching him everywhere we went, till the child grew so wise that he would loose the chain and get off. but one day that he loosed it i failed to find him; and i ran into the house and searched the house, but there was no getting him for me. the king cried to go out and find the child, that had got loose from the dog. they went searching for him, but could not find him. when they failed altogether to find him, there remained no more favour with the king towards me, and every one disliked me, and i grew weak, for i did not get a morsel to eat half the time. when summer came, i said i would try and go home to my own country. i went away one fine morning, and i went swimming, and god helped me till i came home. i went into the garden, for i knew there was a place in the garden where i could hide myself, for fear my wife should see me. in the morning i saw her out walking, and the child with her, held by the hand. i pushed out to see the child, and as he was looking about him everywhere, he saw me and called out, "i see my shaggy papa. oh!" said he; "oh, my heart's love, my shaggy papa, come here till i see you!" [illustration] i was afraid the woman would see me, as she was asking the child where he saw me, and he said i was up in a tree; and the more the child called me, the more i hid myself. the woman took the child home with her, but i knew he would be up early in the morning. i went to the parlour-window, and the child was within, and he playing. when he saw me he cried out, "oh! my heart's love, come here till i see you, shaggy papa." i broke the window and went in, and he began to kiss me. i saw the rod in front of the chimney, and i jumped up at the rod and knocked it down. "oh! my heart's love, no one would give me the pretty rod," said he. i hoped he would strike me with the rod, but he did not. when i saw the time was short i raised my paw, and i gave him a scratch below the knee. "oh! you naughty, dirty, shaggy papa, you have hurt me so much, i'll give you a blow of the rod." he struck me a light blow, and so i came back to my own shape again. when he saw a man standing before him he gave a cry, and i took him up in my arms. the servants heard the child. a maid came in to see what was the matter with him. when she saw me she gave a cry out of her, and she said, "oh, if the master isn't come to life again!" another came in, and said it was he really. when the mistress heard of it, she came to see with her own eyes, for she would not believe i was there; and when she saw me she said she'd drown herself. but i said to her, "if you yourself will keep the secret, no living man will ever get the story from me until i lose my head." here she is herself to say if i am telling the truth. "oh, it's nothing but truth you are telling." when i saw i was in a man's shape, i said i would take the child back to his father and mother, as i knew the grief they were in after him. i got a ship, and took the child with me; and as i journeyed i came to land on an island, and i saw not a living soul on it, only a castle dark and gloomy. i went in to see was there any one in it. there was no one but an old hag, tall and frightful, and she asked me, "what sort of person are you?" i heard some one groaning in another room, and i said i was a doctor, and i asked her what ailed the person who was groaning. "oh," said she, "it is my son, whose hand has been bitten from his wrist by a dog." i knew then that it was he who had taken the child from me, and i said i would cure him if i got a good reward. "i have nothing; but there are eight young lads and three young women, as handsome as any one ever laid eyes on, and if you cure him i will give you them." "tell me first in what place his hand was cut from him?" "oh, it was out in another country, twelve years ago." "show me the way, that i may see him." she brought me into a room, so that i saw him, and his arm was swelled up to the shoulder. he asked me if i would cure him; and i said i would cure him if he would give me the reward his mother promised. "oh, i will give it; but cure me." "well, bring them out to me." the hag brought them out of the room. i said i should burn the flesh that was on his arm. when i looked on him he was howling with pain. i said that i would not leave him in pain long. the wretch had only one eye in his forehead. i took a bar of iron, and put it in the fire till it was red, and i said to the hag, "he will be howling at first, but will fall asleep presently, and do not wake him till he has slept as much as he wants. i will close the door when i am going out." i took the bar with me, and i stood over him, and i turned it across through his eye as far as i could. he began to bellow, and tried to catch me, but i was out and away, having closed the door. the hag asked me, "why is he bellowing?" "oh, he will be quiet presently, and will sleep for a good while, and i'll come again to have a look at him; but bring me out the young men and the young women." i took them with me, and i said to her, "tell me where you got them." "my son brought them with him, and they are all the children of one king." i was well satisfied, and i had no wish for delay to get myself free from the hag, so i took them on board the ship, and the child i had myself. i thought the king might leave me the child i nursed myself; but when i came to land, and all those young people with me, the king and queen were out walking. the king was very aged, and the queen aged likewise. when i came to converse with them, and the twelve with me, the king and queen began to cry. i asked, "why are you crying?" "it is for good cause i am crying. as many children as these i should have, and now i am withered, grey, at the end of my life, and i have not one at all." i told him all i went through, and i gave him the child in his hand, and "these are your other children who were stolen from you, whom i am giving to you safe. they are gently reared." when the king heard who they were he smothered them with kisses and drowned them with tears, and dried them with fine cloths silken and the hair of his own head, and so also did their mother, and great was his welcome for me, as it was i who found them all. the king said to me, "i will give you the last child, as it is you who have earned him best; but you must come to my court every year, and the child with you, and i will share with you my possessions." "i have enough of my own, and after my death i will leave it to the child." i spent a time, till my visit was over, and i told the king all the troubles i went through, only i said nothing about my wife. and now you have the story. * * * * * and now when you go home, and the slender red champion asks you for news of the death of anshgayliacht and for the sword of light, tell him the way in which his brother was killed, and say you have the sword; and he will ask the sword from you. say you to him, "if i promised to bring it to you, i did not promise to bring it for you"; and then throw the sword into the air and it will come back to me. * * * * * he went home, and he told the story of the death of anshgayliacht to the slender red champion, "and here," said he, "is the sword." the slender red champion asked for the sword; but he said: "if i promised to bring it to you, i did not promise to bring it for you"; and he threw it into the air and it returned to blue niall. [illustration] the story of the mcandrew family [illustration: a] a long time ago, in the county mayo, there lived a rich man of the name of mcandrew. he owned cows and horses without number, not to mention ducks and geese and pigs; and his land extended as far as the eye could reach on the four sides of you. mcandrew was a lucky man, the neighbours all said; but as for himself, when he looked on his seven big sons growing up like weeds and with scarcely any more sense, he felt sore enough, for of all the stupid omadhauns the seven mcandrew brothers were the stupidest. when the youngest grew to be a man, the father built a house for each of them, and gave every one a piece of land and a few cows, hoping to make men of them before he died, for, as the old man said: "while god spares my life, i'll be able to have an eye to them, and maybe they will learn from experience." the seven young mcandrews were happy enough. their fields were green, their cows were fat and sleek, and they thought they would never see a poor day. all went well for a time, and the day of the fair of killalla was as fine a day as ever shone in ireland, when the whole seven got ready to be off, bright and early, in the morning. each one of them drove before him three fine cows, and a finer herd, when they were all together, was never seen in the country far or near. now, there was a smart farmer, named o'toole, whose fields were nearing on the mcandrews', and he had many a time set his heart on the fine cattle belonging to his easy-going neighbours; so when he saw them passing with their twenty-one cows he went out and hailed them. "where are ye going to, this fine morning?" "it's to the fair of killalla we're going, to sell these fine cows our father gave us," they all answered together. "and are ye going to sell cows that the evil eye has long been set on? oh, con and shamus, i would never belave it of ye, even if that spalpeen of a pat would do such a thing; any one would think that the spirit of the good mother that bore ye would stretch out a hand and kape ye from committing such a mortal sin." this o'toole said to the three eldest, who stood trembling, while the four younger ones stuck their knuckles into their eyes and began to cry. "oh, indade, mr. o'toole, we never knew that the cows were under the evil eye. how did ye find it out? oh, sorra the day when such a fine lot of cattle should go to the bad," answered con. [illustration] "indade ye may well ask it, whin it's meself that was always a good neighbour and kept watch on auld judy, the witch, when she used to stand over there laughing at the ravens flying over the cows. do ye mind the time yer father spoke ugly to her down by the cross-roads? she never forgot it, and now yer twenty-one fine cows will never be worth the hides on their backs." "worra, worra, worra," roared the seven mcandrews, so loud that pretty katie o'toole bobbed her head out of the window, and the hindermost cows began to caper like mad. "the spell has come upon them!" cried shamus. "oh! what'll we do? what'll we do?" "hould yer whist, man alive," said o'toole. "i'm a good neighbour, as i said before, so to give ye a lift in the world i'll take the risk on meself and buy the cows from ye for the price of their hides. sure no harm can be done to the hides for making leather, so i'll give ye a shilling apiece, and that's better than nothing. twenty-one bright shillings going to the fair may make yer fortune." [illustration] it seemed neck or nothing with the mcandrews, and they accepted the offer, thanking o'toole for his generosity, and helped him drive the cows into his field. then they set off for the fair. they had never been in a fair before, and when they saw the fine sights they forgot all about the cows, and only remembered that they had each a shilling to spend. every one knew the mcandrews, and soon a crowd gathered round them, praising their fine looks and telling them what a fine father they had to give them so much money, so that the seven omadhauns lost their heads entirely, and treated right and left until there wasn't a farthing left of the twenty-one shillings. then they staggered home a little the worse for the fine whisky they drank with the boys. it was a sorry day for old mcandrew when his seven sons came home without a penny of the price of their twenty-one fine cows, and he vowed he'd never give them any more. so one day passed with another, and the seven young mcandrews were as happy as could be until the fine old father fell sick and died. the eldest son came in for all the father had, so he felt like a lord. to see him strut and swagger was a sight to make a grum growdy laugh. one day, to show how fine he could be, he dressed in his best, and with a purse filled with gold pieces started off for the market town. when he got there, in he walked to a public-house, and called for the best of everything, and to make a fine fellow of himself he tripled the price of everything to the landlord. as soon as he got through his eye suddenly caught sight of a little keg, all gilded over to look like gold, that hung outside the door for a sign. con had never heeded it before, and he asked the landlord what it was. now the landlord, like many another, had it in mind that he might as well get all he could out of a mcandrew, and he answered quickly: "you stupid omadhaun, don't you know what that is? it's a mare's egg." "and will a foal come out of it?" "of course; what a question to ask a dacent man!" "i niver saw one before," said the amazed mcandrew. "well, ye see one now, con, and take a good look at it." "will ye sell it?" "och, con mcandrew, do ye think i want to sell that fine egg afther kaping it so long hung up there before the sun--when it is ready to hatch out a foal that will be worth twenty good guineas to me?" "i'll give ye twenty guineas for it," answered con. "thin it's a bargain," said the landlord; and he took down the keg and handed it to con, who handed out the twenty guineas, all the money he had. "be careful of it, and carry it as aisy as ye can, and when ye get home hang it up in the sun." con promised, and set off home with his prize. near the rise of a hill he met his brothers. "what have ye, con?" "the most wonderful thing in the world--a mare's egg." "faith, what is it like?" asked pat, taking it from con. "go aisy, can't ye? it's very careful ye have to be." but the brothers took no heed to con, and before one could say, "whist," away rolled the keg down the hill, while all seven ran after it; but before any one could catch it, it rolled into a clump of bushes, and in an instant out hopped a hare. [illustration] "bedad, there's the foal," cried con, and all seven gave chase; but there was no use trying to catch a hare. "that's the foinest foal that ever was, if he was five year old the devil himself could not catch him," con said; and with that the seven omadhauns gave up the chase and went quietly home. as i said before, every one had it in mind to get all he could get out of the mcandrews. every one said, "one man might as well have it as another, for they're bound to spend every penny they have." so their money dwindled away; then a fine horse would go for a few bits of glass they took for precious stones, and by-and-by a couple of pigs or a pair of fine geese for a bit of ribbon to tie on a hat; and at last their land began to go. one day shamus was sitting by his fireplace warming himself, and to make a good fire he threw on a big heap of turf so that by-and-by it got roaring hot, and instead of feeling chilly as he had before, shamus got as hot as a spare-rib on a spit. just then in came his youngest brother. "that's a great fire ye have here, shamus." "it is, indade, and too near it is to me; run like a good boy to giblin, the mason, and see if he can't move the chimney to the other side of the room." the youngest mcandrew did as he was bid, and soon in came giblin, the mason. "ye're in a sad plight, shamus, roasting alive; what can i do for ye?" "can ye move the chimney over beyant?" "faith, i can, but ye will have to move a bit; just go out for a walk with yer brother, and the job will be done when ye come back." shamus did as he was bid, and giblin took the chair the omadhaun was sitting on and moved it away from the fire, and then sat down for a quiet laugh for himself and to consider on the price he'd charge for the job. when shamus came back, giblin led him to the chair, saying: "now, isn't that a great deal better?" "ye're a fine man, giblin, and ye did it without making a bit of dirt; what'll i give ye for so fine a job?" "if ye wouldn't mind, i'd like the meadow field nearing on mine. it's little enough for a job like that." "it's yours and welcome, giblin"; and without another word the deed was drawn. that was the finest of the mcandrew fields, and the only pasture land left to shamus. it was not long before it came about that first one and then another lost the house he lived in, until all had to live together in the father's old place. o'toole and giblin had encroached field by field, and there was nothing left but the old house and a strip of garden that none of them knew how to till. it was hard times for the seven mcandrews, but they were happy and contented as long as they had enough to eat, and that they had surely, for the wives of the men who got away all their fine lands and cattle, had sore hearts when they saw their men enriched at the expense of the omadhauns, and every day, unbeknown to their husbands, they carried them meat and drink. o'toole and giblin now had their avaricious eyes set on the house and garden, and they were on the watch for a chance to clutch them, when luck, or something worse, threw the chance in the way of o'toole. he was returning from town one day just in the cool of the afternoon, when he spied the seven brothers by the roadside, sitting in a circle facing each other. "what may ye be doing here instead of earning yer salt, ye seven big sturks?" "we're in a bad fix, mr. o'toole," answered pat. "we can't get up." "what's to hinder ye from getting up? i'd like to know." "don't ye see our feet are all here together in the middle, and not for the life of us can we each tell our own. you see if one of us gets up he don't know what pair of feet to take with him." o'toole was never so ready to laugh before in his life, but he thought: "now's me chance to get the house and garden before giblin, the mason, comes round"; so he looked very grave and said: "i suppose it is hard to tell one man's feet from another's when they're all there in a heap, but i think i can help you as i have many a time before. it would be a sorry day for ye if ye did not have me for a neighbour. what will ye give me if i help you find yer feet?" "anything, anything we have, so that we can get up from here," answered the whole seven together. "will ye give me the house and garden?" "indade we will; what good is a house and garden, if we have to sit here all the rest of our lives?" "then it's a bargain," said o'toole; and with that he went over to the side of the road and pulled a good stout rod. then he commenced to belabour the poor mcandrews over the heads, feet, shoulders, and any place he could get in a stroke, until with screeches of pain they all jumped up, every one finding his own feet, and away they ran. so o'toole got the last of the property of the mcandrews, and there was nothing left for them but to go and beg. [illustration] [illustration] the farmer of liddesdale [illustration: t] there was in liddesdale (in morven) a farmer who suffered great loss within the space of one year. in the first place, his wife and children died, and shortly after their death the ploughman left him. the hiring-markets were then over, and there was no way of getting another ploughman in place of the one that left. when spring came his neighbours began ploughing; but he had not a man to hold the plough, and he knew not what he should do. the time was passing, and he was therefore losing patience. at last he said to himself, in a fit of passion, that he would engage the first man that came his way, whoever he should be. shortly after that a man came to the house. the farmer met him at the door, and asked him whither was he going, or what was he seeking? he answered that he was a ploughman, and that he wanted an engagement. "i want a ploughman, and if we agree about the wages, i will engage thee. what dost thou ask from this day to the day when the crop will be gathered in?" "only as much of the corn when it shall be dry as i can carry with me in one burden-withe." "thou shalt get that," said the farmer, and they agreed. next morning the farmer went out with the ploughman, and showed him the fields which he had to plough. before they returned, the ploughman went to the wood, and having cut three stakes, came back with them, and placed one of them at the head of each one of the fields. after he had done that he said to the farmer, "i will do the work now alone, and the ploughing need no longer give thee anxiety." having said this, he went home and remained idle all that day. the next day came, but he remained idle as on the day before. after he had spent a good while in that manner, the farmer said to him that it was time for him to begin work now, because the spring was passing away, and the neighbours had half their work finished. he replied, "oh, our land is not ready yet." "how dost thou think that?" "oh, i know it by the stakes." if the delay of the ploughman made the farmer wonder, this answer made him wonder more. he resolved that he would keep his eye on him, and see what he was doing. the farmer rose early next morning, and saw the ploughman going to the first field. when he reached the field, he pulled the stake at its end out of the ground, and put it to his nose. he shook his head and put the stake back in the ground. he then left the first field and went to the rest. he tried the stakes, shook his head, and returned home. in the dusk he went out the second time to the fields, tried the stakes, shook his head, and after putting them again in the ground, went home. next morning he went out to the fields the third time. when he reached the first stake he pulled it out of the ground and put it to his nose as he did on the foregoing days. but no sooner had he done that than he threw the stake from him, and stretched away for the houses with all his might. he got the horses, the withes, and the plough, and when he reached the end of the first field with them, he thrust the plough into the ground, and cried: "my horses and my leather-traces, and mettlesome lads, the earth is coming up!" he then began ploughing, kept at it all day at a terrible rate, and before the sun went down that night there was not a palm-breadth of the three fields which he had not ploughed, sowed, and harrowed. when the farmer saw this he was exceedingly well pleased, for he had his work finished as soon as his neighbours. the ploughman was quick and ready to do everything that he was told, and so he and the farmer agreed well until the harvest came. but on a certain day when the reaping was over, the farmer said to him that he thought the corn was dry enough for putting in. the ploughman tried a sheaf or two, and answered that it was not dry yet. but shortly after that day he said that it was now ready. "if it is," said the farmer, "we better begin putting it in." "we will not until i get my share out of it first," said the ploughman. he then went off to the wood, and in a short time returned, having in his hand a withe scraped and twisted. he stretched the withe on the field, and began to put the corn in it. he continued putting sheaf after sheaf in the withe until he had taken almost all the sheaves that were on the field. the farmer asked of him what he meant? "thou didst promise me as wages as much corn as i could carry with me in one burden-withe, and here i have it now," said the ploughman, as he was shutting the withe. the farmer saw that he would be ruined by the ploughman, and therefore said: "'twas in the màrt i sowed, 'twas in the màrt i baked, 'twas in the màrt i harrowed. thou who hast ordained the three màrts, let not my share go in one burden-withe." instantly the withe broke, and it made a loud report, which echo answered from every rock far and near. then the corn spread over the field, and the ploughman went away in a white mist in the skies, and was seen no more. the greek princess and the young gardener [illustration: t] there was once a king, but i didn't hear what country he was over, and he had one very beautiful daughter. well, he was getting old and sickly, and the doctors found out that the finest medicine in the world for him was the apples of a tree that grew in the orchard just under his window. so you may be sure he had the tree well minded, and used to get the apples counted from the time they were the size of small marbles. one harvest, just as they were beginning to turn ripe, the king was awakened one night by the flapping of wings outside in the orchard; and when he looked out, what did he see but a bird among the branches of his tree. its feathers were so bright that they made a light all round them, and the minute it saw the king in his night-cap and night-shirt it picked off an apple, and flew away. "oh, botheration to that thief of a gardener!" says the king, "this is a nice way he's watching my precious fruit." he didn't sleep a wink the rest of the night; and as soon as any one was stirring in the palace, he sent for the gardener, and abused him for his neglect. "please your majesty!" says he, "not another apple you shall lose. my three sons are the best shots at the bow and arrow in the kingdom, and they and myself will watch in turn every night." when the night came, the gardener's eldest son took his post in the garden, with his bow strung and his arrow between his fingers, and watched, and watched. but at the dead hour, the king, that was wide awake, heard the flapping of wings, and ran to the window. there was the bright bird in the tree, and the boy fast asleep, sitting with his back to the wall, and his bow on his lap. "rise, you lazy thief!" says the king, "there's the bird again, botheration to her!" up jumped the poor fellow; but while he was fumbling with the arrow and the string, away was the bird with the nicest apple on the tree. well, to be sure, how the king fumed and fretted, and how he abused the gardener and the boy, and what a twenty-four hours he spent till midnight came again! he had his eye this time on the second son of the gardener; but though he was up and lively enough when the clock began to strike twelve, it wasn't done with the last bang when he saw him stretched like one dead on the long grass, and saw the bright bird again, and heard the flap of her wings, and saw her carry away the third apple. the poor fellow woke with the roar the king let at him, and even was in time enough to let fly an arrow after the bird. he did not hit her, you may depend; and though the king was mad enough, he saw the poor fellows were under _pishtrogues_, and could not help it. well, he had some hopes out of the youngest, for he was a brave, active young fellow, that had everybody's good word. there he was ready, and there was the king watching him, and talking to him at the first stroke of twelve. at the last clang, the brightness coming before the bird lighted up the wall and the trees, and the rushing of the wings was heard as it flew into the branches; but at the same instant the crack of the arrow on her side might be heard a quarter of a mile off. down came the arrow and a large bright feather along with it, and away was the bird, with a screech that was enough to break the drum of your ear. she hadn't time to carry off an apple; and bedad, when the feather was thrown up into the king's room it was heavier than lead, and turned out to be the finest beaten gold. well, there was great _cooramuch_ made about the youngest boy next day, and he watched night after night for a week, but not a mite of a bird or bird's feather was to be seen, and then the king told him to go home and sleep. every one admired the beauty of the gold feather beyond anything, but the king was fairly bewitched. he was turning it round and round, and rubbing it against his forehead and his nose the live-long day; and at last he proclaimed that he'd give his daughter and half his kingdom to whoever would bring him the bird with the gold feathers, dead or alive. the gardener's eldest son had great conceit of himself, and away he went to look for the bird. in the afternoon he sat down under a tree to rest himself, and eat a bit of bread and cold meat that he had in his wallet, when up comes as fine a looking fox as you'd see in the burrow of munfin. "musha, sir," says he, "would you spare a bit of that meat to a poor body that's hungry?" "well," says the other, "you must have the divil's own assurance, you common robber, to ask me such a question. here's the answer," and he let fly at the _moddhereen rua_. the arrow scraped from his side up over his back, as if he was made of hammered iron, and stuck in a tree a couple of perches off. "foul play," says the fox; "but i respect your young brother, and will give a bit of advice. at nightfall you'll come into a village. one side of the street you'll see a large room lighted up, and filled with young men and women, dancing and drinking. the other side you'll see a house with no light, only from the fire in the front room, and no one near it but a man and his wife, and their child. take a fool's advice, and get lodging there." with that he curled his tail over his crupper, and trotted off. the boy found things as the fox said, but _begonies_ he chose the dancing and drinking, and there we'll leave him. in a week's time, when they got tired at home waiting for him, the second son said he'd try his fortune, and off he set. he was just as ill-natured and foolish as his brother, and the same thing happened to him. well, when a week was over, away went the youngest of all, and as sure as the hearth-money, he sat under the same tree, and pulled out his bread and meat, and the same fox came up and saluted him. well, the young fellow shared his dinner with the _moddhereen_, and he wasn't long beating about the bush, but told the other he knew all about his business. "i'll help you," says he, "if i find you're biddable. so just at nightfall you'll come into a village.... good-bye till to-morrow." it was just as the fox said, but the boy took care not to go near dancer, drinker, fiddler, or piper. he got welcome in the quiet house to supper and bed, and was on his journey next morning before the sun was the height of the trees. he wasn't gone a quarter of a mile when he saw the fox coming out of a wood that was by the roadside. "good-morrow, fox," says one. "good-morrow, sir," says the other. "have you any notion how far you have to travel till you find the golden bird?" "dickens a notion have i;--how could i?" "well, i have. she's in the king of spain's palace, and that's a good two hundred miles off." "oh, dear! we'll be a week going." "no, we won't. sit down on my tail, and we'll soon make the road short." "tail, indeed! that 'ud be the droll saddle, my poor _moddhereen_." "do as i tell you, or i'll leave you to yourself." well, rather than vex him he sat down on the tail that was spread out level like a wing, and away they went like thought. they overtook the wind that was before them, and the wind that came after didn't overtake them. in the afternoon, they stopped in a wood near the king of spain's palace, and there they stayed till nightfall. "now," says the fox, "i'll go before you to make the minds of the guards easy, and you'll have nothing to do but go from lighted hall to another lighted hall till you find the golden bird in the last. if you have a head on you, you'll bring himself and his cage outside the door, and no one then can lay hands on him or you. if you haven't a head i can't help you, nor no one else." so he went over to the gates. in a quarter of an hour the boy followed, and in the first hall he passed he saw a score of armed guards standing upright, but all dead asleep. in the next he saw a dozen, and in the next half a dozen, and in the next three, and in the room beyond that there was no guard at all, nor lamp, nor candle, but it was as bright as day; for there was the golden bird in a common wood and wire cage, and on the table were the three apples turned into solid gold. on the same table was the most lovely golden cage eye ever beheld, and it entered the boy's head that it would be a thousand pities not to put the precious bird into it, the common cage was so unfit for her. maybe he thought of the money it was worth; anyhow he made the exchange, and he had soon good reason to be sorry for it. the instant the shoulder of the bird's wing touched the golden wires, he let such a _squawk_ out of him as was enough to break all the panes of glass in the windows, and at the same minute the three men, and the half-dozen, and the dozen, and the score men, woke up and clattered their swords and spears, and surrounded the poor boy, and jibed, and cursed, and swore at home, till he didn't know whether it's his foot or head he was standing on. they called the king, and told him what happened, and he put on a very grim face. "it's on a gibbet you ought to be this moment," says he, "but i'll give you a chance of your life, and of the golden bird, too. i lay you under prohibitions, and restrictions, and death, and destruction, to go and bring me the king of _moroco's_ bay filly that outruns the wind, and leaps over the walls of castle-bawns. when you fetch her into the bawn of this palace, you must get the golden bird, and liberty to go where you please." [illustration] out passed the boy, very down-hearted, but as he went along, who should come out of a brake but the fox again. "ah, my friend," says he, "i was right when i suspected you hadn't a head on you; but i won't rub your hair again' the grain. get on my tail again, and when we come to the king of moroco's palace, we'll see what we can do." so away they went like thought. the wind that was before them they would overtake; the wind that was behind them would not overtake them. well, the nightfall came on them in a wood near the palace, and says the fox, "i'll go and make things easy for you at the stables, and when you are leading out the filly, don't let her touch the door, nor doorposts, nor anything but the ground, and that with her hoofs; and if you haven't a head on you once you are in the stable, you'll be worse off than before." so the boy delayed for a quarter of an hour, and then he went into the big bawn of the palace. there were two rows of armed men reaching from the gate to the stable, and every man was in the depth of deep sleep, and through them went the boy till he got into the stable. there was the filly, as handsome a beast as ever stretched leg, and there was one stable-boy with a currycomb in his hand, and another with a bridle, and another with a sieve of oats, and another with an armful of hay, and all as if they were cut out of stone. the filly was the only live thing in the place except himself. she had a common wood and leather saddle on her back, but a golden saddle with the nicest work on it was hung from the post, and he thought it the greatest pity not to put it in place of the other. well, i believe there was some _pishrogues_ over it for a saddle; anyhow, he took off the other, and put the gold one in its place. out came a squeal from the filly's throat when she felt the strange article, that might be heard from tombrick to bunclody, and all as ready were the armed men and the stable-boys to run and surround the _omadhan_ of a boy, and the king of moroco was soon there along with the rest, with a face on him as black as the sole of your foot. after he stood enjoying the abuse the poor boy got from everybody for some time, he says to him, "you deserve high hanging for your impudence, but i'll give you a chance for your life and the filly, too. i lay on you all sorts of prohibitions, and restrictions, and death, and destruction to go bring me princess golden locks, the king of greek's daughter. when you deliver her into my hand, you may have the 'daughter of the wind,' and welcome. come in and take your supper and your rest, and be off at the flight of night." the poor boy was down in the mouth, you may suppose, as he was walking away next morning, and very much ashamed when the fox looked up in his face after coming out of the wood. "what a thing it is," says he, "not to have a head when a body wants it worst; and here we have a fine long journey before us to the king of greek's palace. the worse luck now, the same always. here, get on my tail, and we'll be making the road shorter." so he sat on the fox's tail, and swift as thought they went. the wind that was before them they would overtake it, the wind that was behind them would not overtake them, and in the evening they were eating their bread and cold meat in the wood near the castle. "now," says the fox, when they were done, "i'll go before you to make things easy. follow me in a quarter of an hour. don't let princess golden locks touch the jambs of the doors with her hands, or hair, or clothes, and if you're asked any favour, mind how you answer. once she's outside the door, no one can take her from you." into the palace walked the boy at the proper time, and there were the score, and the dozen, and the half-dozen, and the three guards all standing up or leaning on their arms, and all dead asleep, and in the farthest room of all was the princess golden locks, as lovely as venus herself. she was asleep in one chair, and her father, the king of greek, in another. he stood before her for ever so long with the love sinking deeper into his heart every minute, till at last he went down on one knee, and took her darling white hand in his hand, and kissed it. when she opened her eyes, she was a little frightened, but i believe not very angry, for the boy, as i call him, was a fine handsome young fellow, and all the respect and love that ever you could think of was in his face. she asked him what he wanted, and he stammered, and blushed, and began his story six times, before she understood it. "and would you give me up to that ugly black king of moroco?" says she. "i am obliged to do so," says he, "by prohibitions, and restrictions, and death, and destruction, but i'll have his life and free you, or lose my own. if i can't get you for my wife, my days on the earth will be short." "well," says she, "let me take leave of my father at any rate." "ah, i can't do that," says he, "or they'd all waken, and myself would be put to death, or sent to some task worse than any i got yet." but she asked leave at any rate to kiss the old man; that wouldn't waken him, and then she'd go. how could he refuse her, and his heart tied up in every curl of her hair? but, bedad, the moment her lips touched her father's, he let a cry, and every one of the score, the dozen guards woke up, and clashed their arms, and were going to make _gibbets_ of the foolish boy. but the king ordered them to hold their hands, till he'd be _insensed_ of what it was all about, and when he heard the boy's story he gave him a chance for his life. "there is," says he, "a great heap of clay in front of the palace, that won't let the sun shine on the walls in the middle of summer. every one that ever worked at it found two shovelfuls added to it for every one they threw away. remove it, and i'll let my daughter go with you. if you're the man i suspect you to be, i think she'll be in no danger of being wife to that yellow _molott_." early next morning was the boy tackled to his work, and for every shovelful he flung away two came back on him, and at last he could hardly get out of the heap that gathered round him. well, the poor fellow scrambled out some way, and sat down on a sod, and he'd have cried only for the shame of it. he began at it in ever so many places, and one was still worse than the other, and in the heel of the evening, when he was sitting with his head between his hands, who should be standing before him but the fox. "well, my poor fellow," says he, "you're low enough. go in: i won't say anything to add to your trouble. take your supper and your rest: to-morrow will be a new day." "how is the work going off?" says the king, when they were at supper. [illustration: the greek princess] "faith, your majesty," says the poor boy, "it's not going off, but coming on it is. i suppose you'll have the trouble of digging me out at sunset to-morrow, and waking me." "i hope not," says the princess, with a smile on her kind face; and the boy was as happy as anything the rest of the evening. he was wakened up next morning with voices shouting, and bugles blowing, and drums beating, and such a hullibulloo he never heard in his life before. he ran out to see what was the matter, and there, where the heap of clay was the evening before, were soldiers, and servants, and lords, and ladies, dancing like mad for joy that it was gone. "ah, my poor fox!" says he to himself, "this is your work." well, there was little delay about his return. the king was going to send a great retinue with the princess and himself, but he wouldn't let him take the trouble. "i have a friend," says he, "that will bring us both to the king of moroco's palace in a day, d---- fly away with him!" there was great crying when she was parting from her father. "ah!" says he, "what a lonesome life i'll have now! your poor brother in the power of that wicked witch, and kept away from us, and now you taken from me in my old age!" well, they both were walking on through the wood, and he telling her how much he loved her; out walked the fox from behind a brake, and in a short time he and she were sitting on the brush, and holding one another fast for fear of slipping off, and away they went like thought. the wind that was before them they would overtake it, and in the evening he and she were in the big bawn of the king of moroco's castle. "well," says he to the boy, "you've done your duty well; bring out the bay filly. i'd give the full of the bawn of such fillies, if i had them, for this handsome princess. get on your steed, and here is a good purse of guineas for the road." [illustration] "thank you," says he. "i suppose you'll let me shake hands with the princess before i start." "yes, indeed, and welcome." well, he was some little time about the hand-shaking, and before it was over he had her fixed snug behind him; and while you could count three, he, and she, and the filly were through all the guards, and a hundred perches away. on they went, and next morning they were in the wood near the king of spain's palace, and there was the fox before them. "leave your princess here with me," says he, "and go get the golden bird and the three apples. if you don't bring us back the filly along with the bird, i must carry you both home myself." well, when the king of spain saw the boy and the filly in the bawn, he made the golden bird, and the golden cage, and the golden apples be brought out and handed to him, and was very thankful and very glad of his prize. but the boy could not part with the nice beast without petting it and rubbing it; and while no one was expecting such a thing, he was up on its back, and through the guards, and a hundred perches away, and he wasn't long till he came to where he left his princess and the fox. they hurried away till they were safe out of the king of spain's land, and then they went on easier; and if i was to tell you all the loving things they said to one another, the story wouldn't be over till morning. when they were passing the village of the dance house, they found his two brothers begging, and they brought them along. when they came to where the fox appeared first, he begged the young man to cut off his head and his tail. he would not do it for him; he shivered at the very thought, but the eldest brother was ready enough. the head and tail vanished with the blows, and the body changed into the finest young man you could see, and who was he but the princess's brother that was bewitched. whatever joy they had before, they had twice as much now, and when they arrived at the palace bonfires were set blazing, oxes roasting, and puncheons of wine put out in the lawn. the young prince of greece was married to the king's daughter, and the prince's sister to the gardener's son. he and she went a shorter way back to her father's house, with many attendants, and the king was so glad of the golden bird and the golden apples, that he had sent a waggon full of gold and a waggon full of silver along with them. [illustration] the russet dog [illustration: o] oh, he's a rare clever fellow, is the russet dog, the fox, i suppose you call him. have you ever heard the way he gets rid of his fleas? he hunts about and he hunts about till he finds a lock of wool: then he takes it in his mouth, and down he goes to the river and turns his tail to the stream, and goes in backwards. and as the water comes up to his haunches the little fleas come forward, and the more he dips into the river the more they come forward, till at last he has got nothing but his snout and the lock of wool above water; then the little fleas rush into his snout and into the lock of wool. down he dips his nose, and as soon as he feels his nose free of them, he lets go the lock of wool, and so he is free of his fleas. ah, but that is nothing to the way in which he catches ducks for his dinner. he will gather some heather, and put his head in the midst of it, and then will slip down stream to the place where the ducks are swimming, for all the world like a piece of floating heather. then he lets go, and--gobble, gobble, gobble, till not a duck is left alive. and he is as brave as he is clever. it is said that once he found the bagpipes lying all alone, and being very hungry began to gnaw at them: but as soon as he made a hole in the bag, out came a squeal. was the russet dog afraid? never a bit: all he said was: "here's music with my dinner." now a russet dog had noticed for some days a family of wrens, off which he wished to dine. he might have been satisfied with one, but he was determined to have the whole lot--father and eighteen sons--but all so like that he could not tell one from the other, or the father from the children. "it is no use to kill one son," he said to himself, "because the old cock will take warning and fly away with the seventeen. i wish i knew which is the old gentleman." he set his wits to work to find out, and one day seeing them all threshing in a barn, he sat down to watch them; still he could not be sure. "now i have it," he said; "well done the old man's stroke! he hits true," he cried. "oh!" replied the one he suspected of being the head of the family, "if you had seen my grandfather's strokes, you might have said that." the sly fox pounced on the cock, ate him up in a trice, and then soon caught and disposed of the eighteen sons, all flying in terror about the barn. for a long time a tod-hunter had been very anxious to catch our friend the fox, and had stopped all the earths in cold weather. one evening he fell asleep in his hut; and when he opened his eyes he saw the fox sitting very demurely at the side of the fire. it had entered by the hole under the door provided for the convenience of the dog, the cat, the pig, and the hen. "oh! ho!" said the tod-hunter, "now i have you." and he went and sat down at the hole to prevent reynard's escape. "oh! ho!" said the fox, "i will soon make that stupid fellow get up." so he found the man's shoes, and putting them into the fire, wondered if that would make the enemy move. [illustration] "i shan't get up for that, my fine gentleman," cried the tod-hunter. stockings followed the shoes, coat and trousers shared the same fate, but still the man sat over the hole. at last the fox having set the bed and bedding on fire, put a light to the straw on which his jailer lay, and it blazed up to the ceiling. "no! that i cannot stand," shouted the man, jumping up; and the fox, taking advantage of the smoke and confusion, made good his exit. but master rory did not always have it his own way. one day he met a cock, and they began talking. "how many tricks canst thou do?" said the fox. [illustration] "well," said the cock, "i could do three; how many canst thou do thyself?" "i could do three score and thirteen," said the fox. "what tricks canst thou do?" said the cock. "well," said the fox, "my grandfather used to shut one eye and give a great shout." "i could do that myself," said the cock. "do it," said the fox. and the cock shut one eye and crowed as loud as ever he could, but he shut the eye that was next the fox, and the fox gripped him by the neck and ran away with him. but the wife to whom the cock belonged saw him and cried out, "let go the cock; he's mine." "say, 'oh sweet-tongued singer, it is my own cock,' wilt thou not?" said the cock to the fox. then the fox opened his mouth to say as the cock did, and he dropped the cock, and he sprung up on the top of a house, and shut one eye and gave a loud crow. but it was through that very fox that master wolf lost his tail. have you never heard about that? one day the wolf and the fox were out together, and they stole a dish of crowdie. now in those days the wolf was the biggest beast of the two, and he had a long tail like a greyhound and great teeth. the fox was afraid of him, and did not dare to say a word when the wolf ate the most of the crowdie, and left only a little at the bottom of the dish for him, but he determined to punish him for it; so the next night when they were out together the fox pointed to the image of the moon in a pool left in the ice, and said: "i smell a very nice cheese, and there it is, too." "and how will you get it?" said the wolf. "well, stop you here till i see if the farmer is asleep, and if you keep your tail on it, nobody will see you or know that it is there. keep it steady. i may be some time coming back." so the wolf lay down and laid his tail on the moonshine in the ice, and kept it for an hour till it was fast. then the fox, who had been watching, ran in to the farmer and said: "the wolf is there; he will eat up the children--the wolf! the wolf!" then the farmer and his wife came out with sticks to kill the wolf, but the wolf ran off leaving his tail behind him, and that's why the wolf is stumpy-tailed to this day, though the fox has a long brush. one day shortly after this master rory chanced to see a fine cock and fat hen, off which he wished to dine, but at his approach they both jumped up into a tree. he did not lose heart, but soon began to make talk with them, inviting them at last to go a little way with him. "there was no danger," he said, "nor fear of his hurting them, for there was peace between men and beasts, and among all animals." at last after much parleying the cock said to the hen, "my dear, do you not see a couple of hounds coming across the field?" "yes," said the hen, "and they will soon be here." "if that is the case, it is time i should be off," said the sly fox, "for i am afraid these stupid hounds may not have heard of the peace." and with that he took to his heels and never drew breath till he reached his den. now master rory had not finished with his friend the wolf. so he went round to see him when his stump got better. "it is lucky you are," he said to the wolf. "how much better you will be able to run now you haven't got all that to carry behind you." "away from me, traitor!" said the wolf. but master rory said: "is it a traitor i am, when all i have come to see you for is to tell you about a keg of butter i have found?" after much grumbling the wolf agreed to go with master rory. so the russet dog and the wild dog, the fox and the wolf, were going together; and they went round about the sea-shore, and they found the keg of butter, and they buried it. on the morrow the fox went out, and when he returned in he said that a man had come to ask him to a baptism. he arrayed himself in excellent attire, and he went away, and where should he go but to the butter keg; and when he came home the wolf asked him what the child's name was; and he said it was head off. on the morrow he said that a man had sent to ask him to a baptism, and he reached the keg and he took out about half. the wolf asked when he came home what the child's name was. "well," said he, "it is a queer name that i myself would not give to my child, if i had him; it is half and half." on the morrow he said that there was a man there came to ask him to a baptism again; off he went and he reached the keg, and he ate it all up. when he came home the wolf asked him what the child's name was, and he said it was all gone. on the morrow he said to the wolf that they ought to bring the keg home. they went, and when they reached the keg there was not a shadow of the butter in it. "well, thou wert surely coming here to watch this, though i was not," quoth the fox. the other one swore that he had not come near it. "thou needst not be swearing that thou didst not come here; i know that thou didst come, and that it was thou that took it out; but i will know it from thee when thou goest home, if it was thou that ate the butter," said the fox. off they went, and when they got home he hung the wolf by his hind legs, with his head dangling below him, and he had a dab of the butter and he put it under the wolf's mouth, as if it was out of the wolf's belly that it came. "thou red thief!" said he, "i said before that it was thou that ate the butter." they slept that night, and on the morrow when they rose the fox said: "well, then, it is silly for ourselves to be starving to death in this way merely for laziness; we will go to a town-land, and we will take a piece of land in it." they reached the town-land, and the man to whom it belonged gave them a piece of land the worth of seven saxon pounds. it was oats that they set that year, and they reaped it and they began to divide it. "well, then," said the fox, "wouldst thou rather have the root or the tip? thou shalt have thy choice." "i'd rather the root," said the wolf. then the fox had fine oaten bread all the year, and the other one had fodder. on the next year they set a crop; and it was potatoes that they set, and they grew well. "which wouldst thou like best, the root or the crop this year?" said the fox. "indeed, thou shalt not take the twist out of me any more; i will have the top this year," quoth the wolf. "good enough, my hero," said the fox. thus the wolf had the potato tops, and the fox the potatoes. but the wolf used to keep stealing the potatoes from the fox. "thou hadst best go yonder, and read the name that i have in the hoofs of the grey mare," quoth the fox. away went the wolf, and he begun to read the name; and on a time of these times the white mare drew up her leg, and she broke the wolf's head. "oh!" said the fox, "it is long since i heard my name. better to catch geese than to read books." he went home, and the wolf was not troubling him any more. but the russet dog found his match at last, as i shall tell you. one day the fox was once going over a loch, and there met him a little bonnach, and the fox asked him where he was going. the little bonnach told him he was going to such a place. "and whence camest thou?" said the fox. "i came from geeogan, and i came from cooaigean, and i came from the slab of the bonnach stone, and i came from the eye of the quern, and i will come from thee if i may," quoth the little bonnach. "well, i myself will take thee over on my back," said the fox. "thou'lt eat me, thou'lt eat me," quoth the little bonnach. "come then on the tip of my tail," said the fox. "oh no! i will not; thou wilt eat me," said the little bonnach. "come into my ear," said the fox. "i will not go; thou wilt eat me," said the little bonnach. "come into my mouth," said the fox. "thou wilt eat me that way at all events," said the little bonnach. "oh no, i will not eat thee," said the fox. "when i am swimming i cannot eat anything at all." he went into the fox's mouth. "oh! ho!" said the fox, "i may do my own pleasure on thee now. it was long ago said that a hard morsel is no good in the mouth." the fox ate the little bonnach. then he went to a loch, and he caught hold of a duck that was in it, and he ate that. he went up to a hillside, and he began to stroke his sides on the hill. "oh, king! how finely a bullet would spank upon my rib just now." who was listening but a hunter. "i'll try that upon thee directly," said the hunter. "bad luck to this place," quoth the fox, "in which a creature dares not say a word in fun that is not taken in earnest." the hunter put a bullet in his gun, and he fired at him and killed him, and that was the end of the russet dog. [illustration] smallhead and the king's sons [illustration: l] long ago there lived in erin a woman who married a man of high degree and had one daughter. soon after the birth of the daughter the husband died. the woman was not long a widow when she married a second time, and had two daughters. these two daughters hated their half-sister, thought she was not so wise as another, and nicknamed her smallhead. when the elder of the two sisters was fourteen years old their father died. the mother was in great grief then, and began to pine away. she used to sit at home in the corner and never left the house. smallhead was kind to her mother, and the mother was fonder of her eldest daughter than of the other two, who were ashamed of her. at last the two sisters made up in their minds to kill their mother. one day, while their half-sister was gone, they put the mother in a pot, boiled her, and threw the bones outside. when smallhead came home there was no sign of the mother. "where is my mother?" asked she of the other two. "she went out somewhere. how should we know where she is?" "oh, wicked girls! you have killed my mother," said smallhead. smallhead wouldn't leave the house now at all, and the sisters were very angry. "no man will marry either one of us," said they, "if he sees our fool of a sister." since they could not drive smallhead from the house they made up their minds to go away themselves. one fine morning they left home unknown to their half-sister and travelled on many miles. when smallhead discovered that her sisters were gone she hurried after them and never stopped till she came up with the two. they had to go home with her that day, but they scolded her bitterly. the two settled then to kill smallhead, so one day they took twenty needles and scattered them outside in a pile of straw. "we are going to that hill beyond," said they, "to stay till evening, and if you have not all the needles that are in that straw outside gathered and on the tables before us, we'll have your life." away they went to the hill. smallhead sat down, and was crying bitterly when a short grey cat walked in and spoke to her. "why do you cry and lament so?" asked the cat. "my sisters abuse me and beat me," answered smallhead. "this morning they said they would kill me in the evening unless i had all the needles in the straw outside gathered before them." "sit down here," said the cat, "and dry your tears." the cat soon found the twenty needles and brought them to smallhead. "stop there now," said the cat, "and listen to what i tell you. i am your mother; your sisters killed me and destroyed my body, but don't harm them; do them good, do the best you can for them, save them: obey my words and it will be better for you in the end." the cat went away for herself, and the sisters came home in the evening. the needles were on the table before them. oh, but they were vexed and angry when they saw the twenty needles, and they said some one was helping their sister! one night when smallhead was in bed and asleep they started away again, resolved this time never to return. smallhead slept till morning. when she saw that the sisters were gone she followed, traced them from place to place, inquired here and there day after day, till one evening some person told her that they were in the house of an old hag, a terrible enchantress, who had one son and three daughters: that the house was a bad place to be in, for the old hag had more power of witchcraft than any one and was very wicked. smallhead hurried away to save her sisters, and facing the house knocked at the door, and asked lodgings for god's sake. "oh, then," said the hag, "it is hard to refuse any one lodgings, and besides on such a wild, stormy night. i wonder if you are anything to the young ladies who came the way this evening?" the two sisters heard this and were angry enough that smallhead was in it, but they said nothing, not wishing the old hag to know their relationship. after supper the hag told the three strangers to sleep in a room on the right side of the house. when her own daughters were going to bed smallhead saw her tie a ribbon around the neck of each one of them, and heard her say: "do you sleep in the left-hand bed." smallhead hurried and said to her sisters: "come quickly, or i'll tell the woman who you are." they took the bed in the left-hand room and were in it before the hag's daughters came. "oh," said the daughters, "the other bed is as good." so they took the bed in the right-hand room. when smallhead knew that the hag's daughters were asleep she rose, took the ribbons off their necks, and put them on her sister's necks and on her own. she lay awake and watched them. after a while she heard the hag say to her son: "go, now, and kill the three girls; they have the clothes and money." "you have killed enough in your life and so let these go," said the son. but the old woman would not listen. the boy rose up, fearing his mother, and taking a long knife, went to the right-hand room and cut the throats of the three girls without ribbons. he went to bed then for himself, and when smallhead found that the old hag was asleep she roused her sisters, told what had happened, made them dress quickly and follow her. believe me, they were willing and glad to follow her this time. [illustration: the bridge of blood] the three travelled briskly and came soon to a bridge, called at that time "the bridge of blood." whoever had killed a person could not cross the bridge. when the three girls came to the bridge the two sisters stopped: they could not go a step further. smallhead ran across and went back again. "if i did not know that you killed our mother," said she, "i might know it now, for this is the bridge of blood." she carried one sister over the bridge on her back and then the other. hardly was this done when the hag was at the bridge. "bad luck to you, smallhead!" said she, "i did not know that it was you that was in it last evening. you have killed my three daughters." "it wasn't i that killed them, but yourself," said smallhead. the old hag could not cross the bridge, so she began to curse, and she put every curse on smallhead that she could remember. the sisters travelled on till they came to a king's castle. they heard that two servants were needed in the castle. "go now," said smallhead to the two sisters, "and ask for service. be faithful and do well. you can never go back by the road you came." the two found employment at the king's castle. smallhead took lodgings in the house of a blacksmith near by. "i should be glad to find a place as kitchen-maid in the castle," said smallhead to the blacksmith's wife. "i will go to the castle and find a place for you if i can," said the woman. the blacksmith's wife found a place for smallhead as kitchen-maid in the castle, and she went there next day. "i must be careful," thought smallhead, "and do my best. i am in a strange place. my two sisters are here in the king's castle. who knows, we may have great fortune yet." she dressed neatly and was cheerful. every one liked her, liked her better than her sisters, though they were beautiful. the king had two sons, one at home and the other abroad. smallhead thought to herself one day: "it is time for the son who is here in the castle to marry. i will speak to him the first time i can." one day she saw him alone in the garden, went up to him, and said: "why are you not getting married, it is high time for you?" he only laughed and thought she was too bold, but then thinking that she was a simple-minded girl who wished to be pleasant, he said: "i will tell you the reason: my grandfather bound my father by an oath never to let his oldest son marry until he could get the sword of light, and i am afraid that i shall be long without marrying." "do you know where the sword of light is, or who has it?" asked smallhead. "i do," said the king's son, "an old hag who has great power and enchantment, and she lives a long distance from this, beyond the bridge of blood. i cannot go there myself, i cannot cross the bridge, for i have killed men in battle. even if i could cross the bridge i would not go, for many is the king's son that hag has destroyed or enchanted." "suppose some person were to bring the sword of light, and that person a woman, would you marry her?" "i would, indeed," said the king's son. "if you promise to marry my elder sister i will strive to bring the sword of light." "i will promise most willingly," said the king's son. next morning early, smallhead set out on her journey. calling at the first shop she bought a stone weight of salt, and went on her way, never stopping or resting till she reached the hag's house at nightfall. she climbed to the gable, looked down, and saw the son making a great pot of stirabout for his mother, and she hurrying him. "i am as hungry as a hawk!" cried she. whenever the boy looked away, smallhead dropped salt down, dropped it when he was not looking, dropped it till she had the whole stone of salt in the stirabout. the old hag waited and waited till at last she cried out: "bring the stirabout. i am starving! bring the pot. i will eat from the pot. give the milk here as well." the boy brought the stirabout and the milk, the old woman began to eat, but the first taste she got she spat out and screamed: "you put salt in the pot in place of meal!" "i did not, mother." "you did, and it's a mean trick that you played on me. throw this stirabout to the pig outside and go for water to the well in the field." "i cannot go," said the boy, "the night is too dark; i might fall into the well." "you must go and bring the water; i cannot live till morning without eating." "i am as hungry as yourself," said the boy, "but how can i go to the well without a light? i will not go unless you give me a light." "if i give you the sword of light there is no knowing who may follow you; maybe that devil of a smallhead is outside." but sooner than fast till morning the old hag gave the sword of light to her son, warning him to take good care of it. he took the sword of light and went out. as he saw no one when he came to the well he left the sword on the top of the steps going down to the water, so as to have good light. he had not gone down many steps when smallhead had the sword, and away she ran over hills, dales, and valleys towards the bridge of blood. the boy shouted and screamed with all his might. out ran the hag. "where is the sword?" cried she. "some one took it from the step." off rushed the hag, following the light, but she didn't come near smallhead till she was over the bridge. "give me the sword of light, or bad luck to you," cried the hag. "indeed, then, i will not; i will keep it, and bad luck to yourself," answered smallhead. on the following morning she walked up to the king's son and said: "i have the sword of light; now will you marry my sister?" "i will," said he. the king's son married smallhead's sister and got the sword of light. smallhead stayed no longer in the kitchen--the sister didn't care to have her in kitchen or parlour. the king's second son came home. he was not long in the castle when smallhead said to herself, "maybe he will marry my second sister." she saw him one day in the garden, went toward him; he said something, she answered, then asked: "is it not time for you to be getting married like your brother?" "when my grandfather was dying," said the young man, "he bound my father not to let his second son marry till he had the black book. this book used to shine and give brighter light than ever the sword of light did, and i suppose it does yet. the old hag beyond the bridge of blood has the book, and no one dares to go near her, for many is the king's son killed or enchanted by that woman." "would you marry my second sister if you were to get the black book?" "i would, indeed; i would marry any woman if i got the black book with her. the sword of light and the black book were in our family till my grandfather's time, then they were stolen by that cursed old hag." "i will have the book," said smallhead, "or die in the trial to get it." knowing that stirabout was the main food of the hag, smallhead settled in her mind to play another trick. taking a bag she scraped the chimney, gathered about a stone of soot, and took it with her. the night was dark and rainy. when she reached the hag's house, she climbed up the gable to the chimney and found that the son was making stirabout for his mother. she dropped the soot down by degrees till at last the whole stone of soot was in the pot; then she scraped around the top of the chimney till a lump of soot fell on the boy's hand. "oh, mother," said he, "the night is wet and soft, the soot is falling." "cover the pot," said the hag. "be quick with that stirabout, i am starving." the boy took the pot to his mother. "bad luck to you," cried the hag the moment she tasted the stirabout, "this is full of soot; throw it out to the pig." "if i throw it out there is no water inside to make more, and i'll not go in the dark and rain to the well." "you must go!" screamed she. "i'll not stir a foot out of this unless i get a light," said the boy. "is it the book you are thinking of, you fool, to take it and lose it as you did the sword? smallhead is watching you." "how could smallhead, the creature, be outside all the time? if you have no use for the water you can do without it." sooner than stop fasting till morning, the hag gave her son the book, saying: "do not put this down or let it from your hand till you come in, or i'll have your life." the boy took the book and went to the well. smallhead followed him carefully. he took the book down into the well with him, and when he was stooping to dip water she snatched the book and pushed him into the well, where he came very near drowning. smallhead was far away when the boy recovered, and began to scream and shout to his mother. she came in a hurry, and finding that the book was gone, fell into such a rage that she thrust a knife into her son's heart and ran after smallhead, who had crossed the bridge before the hag could come up with her. when the old woman saw smallhead on the other side of the bridge facing her and dancing with delight, she screamed: "you took the sword of light and the black book, and your two sisters are married. oh, then, bad luck to you. i will put my curse on you wherever you go. you have all my children killed, and i a poor, feeble, old woman." "bad luck to yourself," said smallhead. "i am not afraid of a curse from the like of you. if you had lived an honest life you wouldn't be as you are to-day." "now, smallhead," said the old hag, "you have me robbed of everything, and my children destroyed. your two sisters are well married. your fortune began with my ruin. come, now, and take care of me in my old age. i'll take my curse from you, and you will have good luck. i bind myself never to harm a hair of your head." smallhead thought awhile, promised to do this, and said: "if you harm me, or try to harm me, it will be the worse for yourself." the old hag was satisfied and went home. smallhead went to the castle and was received with great joy. next morning she found the king's son in the garden, and said: "if you marry my sister to-morrow, you will have the black book." "i will marry her gladly," said the king's son. next day the marriage was celebrated and the king's son got the book. smallhead remained in the castle about a week, then she left good health with her sisters and went to the hag's house. the old woman was glad to see her and showed the girl her work. all smallhead had to do was to wait on the hag and feed a large pig that she had. "i am fatting that pig," said the hag; "he is seven years old now, and the longer you keep a pig the harder his meat is: we'll keep this pig a while longer, and then we'll kill and eat him." smallhead did her work; the old hag taught her some things, and smallhead learned herself far more than the hag dreamt of. the girl fed the pig three times a day, never thinking that he could be anything but a pig. the hag had sent word to a sister that she had in the eastern world, bidding her come and they would kill the pig and have a great feast. the sister came, and one day when the hag was going to walk with her sister she said to smallhead: "give the pig plenty of meal to-day; this is the last food he'll have; give him his fill." the pig had his own mind and knew what was coming. he put his nose under the pot and threw it on smallhead's toes, and she barefoot. with that she ran into the house for a stick, and seeing a rod on the edge of the loft, snatched it and hit the pig. that moment the pig was a splendid young man. smallhead was amazed. "never fear," said the young man, "i am the son of a king that the old hag hated, the king of munster. she stole me from my father seven years ago and enchanted me--made a pig of me." smallhead told the king's son, then, how the hag had treated her. "i must make a pig of you again," said she, "for the hag is coming. be patient and i'll save you, if you promise to marry me." [illustration] "i promise you," said the king's son. with that she struck him, and he was a pig again. she put the switch in its place and was at her work when the two sisters came. the pig ate his meal now with a good heart, for he felt sure of rescue. "who is that girl you have in the house, and where did you find her?" asked the sister. "all my children died of the plague, and i took this girl to help me. she is a very good servant." at night the hag slept in one room, her sister in another, and smallhead in a third. when the two sisters were sleeping soundly smallhead rose, stole the hag's magic book, and then took the rod. she went next to where the pig was, and with one blow of the rod made a man of him. with the help of the magic book smallhead made two doves of herself and the king's son, and they took flight through the air and flew on without stopping. next morning the hag called smallhead, but she did not come. she hurried out to see the pig. the pig was gone. she ran to her book. not a sign of it. "oh!" cried she, "that villain of a smallhead has robbed me. she has stolen my book, made a man of the pig, and taken him away with her." what could she do but tell her whole story to the sister. "go you," said she, "and follow them. you have more enchantment than smallhead has." "how am i to know them?" asked the sister. "bring the first two strange things that you find; they will turn themselves into something wonderful." the sister then made a hawk of herself and flew away as swiftly as any march wind. "look behind," said smallhead to the king's son some hours later; "see what is coming." "i see nothing," said he, "but a hawk coming swiftly." "that is the hag's sister. she has three times more enchantment than the hag herself. but fly down on the ditch and be picking yourself as doves do in rainy weather, and maybe she'll pass without seeing us." the hawk saw the doves, but thinking them nothing wonderful, flew on till evening, and then went back to her sister. "did you see anything wonderful?" "i did not; i saw only two doves, and they picking themselves." "you fool, those doves were smallhead and the king's son. off with you in the morning and don't let me see you again without the two with you." away went the hawk a second time, and swiftly as smallhead and the king's son flew, the hawk was gaining on them. seeing this smallhead and the king's son dropped down into a large village, and, it being market-day, they made two heather brooms of themselves. the two brooms began to sweep the road without any one holding them, and swept toward each other. this was a great wonder. crowds gathered at once around the two brooms. the old hag flying over in the form of a hawk saw this and thinking that it must be smallhead and the king's son were in it, came down, turned into a woman, and said to herself: "i'll have those two brooms." she pushed forward so quickly through the crowd that she came near knocking down a man standing before her. the man was vexed. "you cursed old hag!" cried he, "do you want to knock us down?" with that he gave her a blow and drove her against another man, that man gave her a push that sent her spinning against a third man, and so on till between them all they came near putting the life out of her, and pushed her away from the brooms. a woman in the crowd called out then: "it would be nothing but right to knock the head off that old hag, and she trying to push us away from the mercy of god, for it was god who sent the brooms to sweep the road for us." "true for you," said another woman. with that the people were as angry as angry could be, and were ready to kill the hag. they were going to take the head off the hag when she made a hawk of herself and flew away, vowing never to do another stroke of work for her sister. she might do her own work or let it alone. when the hawk disappeared the two heather brooms rose and turned into doves. the people felt sure when they saw the doves that the brooms were a blessing from heaven, and it was the old hag that drove them away. on the following day smallhead and the king's son saw his father's castle, and the two came down not too far from it in their own forms. smallhead was a very beautiful woman now, and why not? she had the magic and didn't spare it. she made herself as beautiful as ever she could: the like of her was not to be seen in that kingdom or the next one. the king's son was in love with her that minute, and did not wish to part with her, but she would not go with him. "when you are at your father's castle," said smallhead, "all will be overjoyed to see you, and the king will give a great feast in your honour. if you kiss any one or let any living thing kiss you, you'll forget me for ever." "i will not let even my own mother kiss me," said he. the king's son went to the castle. all were overjoyed; they had thought him dead, had not seen him for seven years. he would let no one come near to kiss him. "i am bound by oath to kiss no one," said he to his mother. at that moment an old grey hound came in, and with one spring was on his shoulder licking his face: all that the king's son had gone through in seven years was forgotten in one moment. smallhead went toward a forge near the castle. the smith had a wife far younger than himself, and a stepdaughter. they were no beauties. in the rear of the forge was a well and a tree growing over it. "i will go up in that tree," thought smallhead, "and spend the night in it." she went up and sat just over the well. she was not long in the tree when the moon came out high above the hill tops and shone on the well. the blacksmith's stepdaughter, coming for water, looked down in the well, saw the face of the woman above in the tree, thought it her own face, and cried: "oh, then, to have me bringing water to a smith, and i such a beauty. i'll never bring another drop to him." with that she cast the pail in the ditch and ran off to find a king's son to marry. when she was not coming with the water, and the blacksmith waiting to wash after his day's work in the forge, he sent the mother. the mother had nothing but a pot to get the water in, so off she went with that, and coming to the well saw the beautiful face in the water. "oh, you black, swarthy villain of a smith," cried she, "bad luck to the hour that i met you, and i such a beauty. i'll never draw another drop of water for the life of you!" she threw the pot down, broke it, and hurried away to find some king's son. when neither mother nor daughter came back with water the smith himself went to see what was keeping them. he saw the pail in the ditch, and, catching it, went to the well; looking down, he saw the beautiful face of a woman in the water. being a man, he knew that it was not his own face that was in it, so he looked up, and there in the tree saw a woman. he spoke to her and said: "i know now why my wife and her daughter did not bring water. they saw your face in the well, and, thinking themselves too good for me, ran away. you must come now and keep the house till i find them." "i will help you," said smallhead. she came down, went to the smith's house, and showed the road that the women took. the smith hurried after them, and found the two in a village ten miles away. he explained their own folly to them, and they came home. the mother and daughter washed fine linen for the castle. smallhead saw them ironing one day, and said: "sit down: i will iron for you." she caught the iron, and in an hour had the work of the day done. the women were delighted. in the evening the daughter took the linen to the housekeeper at the castle. "who ironed this linen?" asked the housekeeper. "my mother and i." "indeed, then, you did not. you can't do the like of that work, and tell me who did it." the girl was in dread now and answered: "it is a woman who is stopping with us who did the ironing." the housekeeper went to the queen and showed her the linen. "send that woman to the castle," said the queen. smallhead went: the queen welcomed her, wondered at her beauty; put her over all the maids in the castle. smallhead could do anything; everybody was fond of her. the king's son never knew that he had seen her before, and she lived in the castle a year; what the queen told her she did. the king had made a match for his son with the daughter of the king of ulster. there was a great feast in the castle in honour of the young couple, the marriage, was to be a week later. the bride's father brought many of his people who were versed in all kinds of tricks and enchantment. the king knew that smallhead could do many things, for neither the queen nor himself had asked her to do a thing that she did not do in a twinkle. "now," said the king to the queen, "i think she can do something that his people cannot do." he summoned smallhead and asked: "can you amuse the strangers?" "i can if you wish me to do so." when the time came and the ulster men had shown their best tricks, smallhead came forward and raised the window, which was forty feet from the ground. she had a small ball of thread in her hand; she tied one end of the thread to the window, threw the ball out and over a wall near the castle; then she passed out the window, walked on the thread and kept time to music from players that no man could see. she came in; all cheered her and were greatly delighted. "i can do that," said the king of ulster's daughter, and sprang out on the string; but if she did she fell and broke her neck on the stones below. there were cries, there was lamentation, and, in place of a marriage, a funeral. the king's son was angry and grieved and wanted to drive smallhead from the castle in some way. "she is not to blame," said the king of munster, who did nothing but praise her. another year passed: the king got the daughter of the king of connacht for his son. there was a great feast before the wedding day, and as the connacht people are full of enchantment and witchcraft, the king of munster called smallhead and said: "now show the best trick of any." "i will," said smallhead. when the feast was over and the connacht men had shown their tricks the king of munster called smallhead. she stood before the company, threw two grains of wheat on the floor, and spoke some magic words. there was a hen and a cock there before her of beautiful plumage; she threw a grain of wheat between them; the hen sprang to eat the wheat, the cock gave her a blow of his bill, the hen drew back, looked at him, and said: "bad luck to you, you wouldn't do the like of that when i was serving the old hag and you her pig, and i made a man of you and gave you back your own form." the king's son looked at her and thought, "there must be something in this." smallhead threw a second grain. the cock pecked the hen again. "oh," said the hen, "you would not do that the day the hag's sister was hunting us, and we two doves." the king's son was still more astonished. she threw a third grain. the cock struck the hen, and she said, "you would not do that to me the day i made two heather brooms out of you and myself." she threw a fourth grain. the cock pecked the hen a fourth time. "you would not do that the day you promised not to let any living thing kiss you or kiss any one yourself but me--you let the hound kiss you and you forgot me." the king's son made one bound forward, embraced and kissed smallhead, and told the king his whole story from beginning to end. "this is my wife," said he; "i'll marry no other woman." "whose wife will my daughter be?" asked the king of connacht. "oh, she will be the wife of the man who will marry her," said the king of munster, "my son gave his word to this woman before he saw your daughter, and he must keep it." so smallhead married the king of munster's son. [illustration] the legend of knockgrafton. [illustration: t] there was once a poor man who lived in the fertile glen of aherlow, at the foot of the gloomy galtee mountains, and he had a great hump on his back: he looked just as if his body had been rolled up and placed upon his shoulders; and his head was pressed down with the weight so much that his chin, when he was sitting, used to rest upon his knees for support. the country people were rather shy of meeting him in any lonesome place, for though, poor creature, he was as harmless and as inoffensive as a new-born infant, yet his deformity was so great that he scarcely appeared to be a human creature, and some ill-minded persons had set strange stories about him afloat. he was said to have a great knowledge of herbs and charms; but certain it was that he had a mighty skilful hand in plaiting straw and rushes into hats and baskets, which was the way he made his livelihood. lusmore, for that was the nickname put upon him by reason of his always wearing a sprig of the fairy cap, or lusmore (the foxglove), in his little straw hat, would ever get a higher penny for his plaited work than any one else, and perhaps that was the reason why some one, out of envy, had circulated the strange stories about him. be that as it may, it happened that he was returning one evening from the pretty town of cahir towards cappagh, and as little lusmore walked very slowly, on account of the great hump upon his back, it was quite dark when he came to the old moat of knockgrafton, which stood on the right-hand side of his road. tired and weary was he, and noways comfortable in his own mind at thinking how much farther he had to travel, and that he should be walking all the night; so he sat down under the moat to rest himself, and began looking mournfully enough upon the moon. presently there rose a wild strain of unearthly melody upon the ear of little lusmore; he listened, and he thought that he had never heard such ravishing music before. it was like the sound of many voices, each mingling and blending with the other so strangely that they seemed to be one, though all singing different strains, and the words of the song were these-- _da luan, da mort, da luan, da mort, da luan, da mort;_ when there would be a moment's pause, and then the round of melody went on again. lusmore listened attentively, scarcely drawing his breath lest he might lose the slightest note. he now plainly perceived that the singing was within the moat; and though at first it had charmed him so much, he began to get tired of hearing the same round sung over and over so often without any change; so availing himself of the pause when the _da luan, da mort_, had been sung three times, he took up the tune, and raised it with the words _augus da cadine_, and then went on singing with the voices inside of the moat, _da luan, da mort_, finishing the melody, when the pause again came, with _augus da cadine_. [illustration: [lyrics on sheet music: da luan da mort da luan da mort da luan da mort augus da cadine da luan da mort da luan da mort da luan da mort augus da cadine]] the fairies within knockgrafton, for the song was a fairy melody, when they heard this addition to the tune, were so much delighted that, with instant resolve, it was determined to bring the mortal among them, whose musical skill so far exceeded theirs, and little lusmore was conveyed into their company with the eddying speed of a whirlwind. glorious to behold was the sight that burst upon him as he came down through the moat, twirling round and round, with the lightness of a straw, to the sweetest music that kept time to his motion. the greatest honour was then paid him, for he was put above all the musicians, and he had servants tending upon him, and everything to his heart's content, and a hearty welcome to all; and, in short, he was made as much of as if he had been the first man in the land. presently lusmore saw a great consultation going forward among the fairies, and, notwithstanding all their civility, he felt very much frightened, until one stepping out from the rest came up to him and said,-- "lusmore! lusmore! doubt not, nor deplore, for the hump which you bore on your back is no more; look down on the floor, and view it, lusmore!" when these words were said, poor little lusmore felt himself so light, and so happy, that he thought he could have bounded at one jump over the moon, like the cow in the history of the cat and the fiddle; and he saw, with inexpressible pleasure, his hump tumble down upon the ground from his shoulders. he then tried to lift up his head, and he did so with becoming caution, fearing that he might knock it against the ceiling of the grand hall, where he was; he looked round and round again with greatest wonder and delight upon everything, which appeared more and more beautiful; and, overpowered at beholding such a resplendent scene, his head grew dizzy, and his eyesight became dim. at last he fell into a sound sleep, and when he awoke he found that it was broad daylight, the sun shining brightly, and the birds singing sweetly; and that he was lying just at the foot of the moat of knockgrafton, with the cows and sheep grazing peacefully round about him. the first thing lusmore did, after saying his prayers, was to put his hand behind to feel for his hump, but no sign of one was there on his back, and he looked at himself with great pride, for he had now become a well-shaped dapper little fellow, and more than that, found himself in a full suit of new clothes, which he concluded the fairies had made for him. towards cappagh he went, stepping out as lightly, and springing up at every step as if he had been all his life a dancing-master. not a creature who met lusmore knew him without his hump, and he had a great work to persuade every one that he was the same man--in truth he was not, so far as outward appearance went. of course it was not long before the story of lusmore's hump got about, and a great wonder was made of it. through the country, for miles round, it was the talk of every one, high and low. one morning, as lusmore was sitting contented enough, at his cabin door, up came an old woman to him, and asked him if he could direct her to cappagh. "i need give you no directions, my good woman," said lusmore, "for this is cappagh; and whom may you want here?" "i have come," said the woman, "out of decie's country, in the county of waterford looking after one lusmore, who, i have heard tell, had his hump taken off by the fairies; for there is a son of a gossip of mine who has got a hump on him that will be his death; and maybe if he could use the same charm as lusmore, the hump may be taken off him. and now i have told you the reason of my coming so far: 'tis to find out about this charm, if i can." lusmore, who was ever a good-natured little fellow, told the woman all the particulars, how he had raised the tune for the fairies at knockgrafton, how his hump had been removed from his shoulders, and how he had got a new suit of clothes into the bargain. the woman thanked him very much, and then went away quite happy and easy in her own mind. when she came back to her gossip's house, in the county of waterford, she told her everything that lusmore had said, and they put the little hump-backed man, who was a peevish and cunning creature from his birth, upon a car, and took him all the way across the country. it was a long journey, but they did not care for that, so the hump was taken from off him; and they brought him, just at nightfall, and left him under the old moat of knockgrafton. jack madden, for that was the humpy man's name, had not been sitting there long when he heard the tune going on within the moat much sweeter than before; for the fairies were singing it the way lusmore had settled their music for them, and the song was going on; _da luan, da mort, da luan, da mort, da luan, da mort, augus da cadine_, without ever stopping. jack madden, who was in a great hurry to get quit of his hump, never thought of waiting until the fairies had done, or watching for a fit opportunity to raise the tune higher again than lusmore had; so having heard them sing it over seven times without stopping, out he bawls, never minding the time or the humour of the tune, or how he could bring his words in properly, _augus da cadine, augus da hena_, thinking that if one day was good, two were better; and that if lusmore had one new suit of clothes given him, he should have two. no sooner had the words passed his lips than he was taken up and whisked into the moat with prodigious force; and the fairies came crowding round about him with great anger, screeching, and screaming, and roaring out, "who spoiled our tune? who spoiled our tune?" and one stepped up to him, above all the rest and said: "jack madden! jack madden! your words came so bad in the tune we felt glad in;-- this castle you're had in, that your life we may sadden; here's two humps for jack madden!" and twenty of the strongest fairies brought lusmore's hump and put it down upon poor jack's back, over his own, where it became fixed as firmly as if it was nailed on with twelve-penny nails, by the best carpenter that ever drove one. out of their castle they then kicked him; and, in the morning, when jack madden's mother and her gossip came to look after their little man, they found him half dead, lying at the foot of the moat, with the other hump upon his back. well to be sure, how they did look at each other! but they were afraid to say anything, lest a hump might be put upon their own shoulders. home they brought the unlucky jack madden with them, as downcast in their hearts and their looks as ever two gossips were; and what through the weight of his other hump, and the long journey, he died soon after, leaving they say his heavy curse to any one who would go to listen to fairy tunes again. elidore. [illustration: in] in the days of henry beauclerc of england there was a little lad named elidore, who was being brought up to be a cleric. day after day he would trudge from his mother's house, and she was a widow, up to the monks' scriptorium. there he would learn his a b c, to read it and to write it. but he was a lazy little rogue was this elidore, and as fast as he learned to write one letter, he forgot another; so it was very little progress he was making. now when the good monks saw this they remembered the saying of the book: "spare the rod and spoil the child," and whenever elidore forgot a letter they tried to make him remember it with the rod. at first they used it seldom and lightly, but elidore was not a boy to be driven, and the more they thwacked him the less he learned: so the thwackings became more frequent and more severe, till elidore could not stand them any longer. so one day when he was twelve years old he upped with him and offed with him into the great forest near st. david's. there for two long days and two long nights he wandered about eating nothing but hips and haws. at last he found himself at the mouth of a cave, at the side of a river, and there he sank down, all tired and exhausted. suddenly two little pigmies appeared to him and said: "come with us, and we will lead you into a land full of games and sports": so elidore raised himself and went with these two; at first through an underground passage all in the dark, but soon they came out into a most beautiful country, with rivers and meadows, woods and plains, as pleasant as can be; only this there was curious about it, that the sun never shone and clouds were always over the sky, so that neither sun was seen by day, nor moon and stars at night. [illustration] the two little men led elidore before their king, who asked why and whence he came. elidore told him, and the king said: "thou shalt attend on my son," and waved him away. so for a long time elidore waited on the king's son, and joined in all the games and sports of the little men. they were little, but they were not dwarfs, for all their limbs were of suitable size one with another. their hair was fair, and hung upon their shoulders like that of women. they had little horses, about the size of greyhounds; and did not eat flesh, fowl, or fish, but lived on milk flavoured with saffron. and as they had such curious ways, so they had strange thoughts. no oath took they, but never a lie they spoke. they would jeer and scoff at men for their struggles, lying, and treachery. yet though they were so good they worshipped none, unless you might say they were worshippers of truth. after a time elidore began to long to see boys and men of his own size, and he begged permission to go and visit his mother. so the king gave him permission: so the little men led him along the passage, and guided him through the forest, till he came near his mother's cottage, and when he entered, was not she rejoiced to see her dear son again? "where have you been? what have you done?" she cried; and he had to tell her all that had happened to him. she begged of him to stay with her, but he had promised the king to go back. and soon he returned, after making his mother promise not to tell where he was, or with whom. henceforth elidore lived, partly with the little men, and partly with his mother. now one day, when he was with his mother, he told her of the yellow balls they used in their play, and which she felt sure must be of gold. so she begged of him that the next time he came back to her he would bring with him one of these balls. when the time came for him to go back to his mother again, he did not wait for the little men to guide him back, as he now knew the road. but seizing one of the yellow balls with which he used to play, he rushed home through the passage. now as he got near his mother's house he seemed to hear tiny footsteps behind him, and he rushed up to the door as quickly as he could. just as he reached it his foot slipped, and he fell down, and the ball rolled out of his hand, just to the feet of his mother. at that moment two little men rushed forward, seized the ball and ran away, making faces, and spitting at the boy as they passed him. elidore remained with his mother for a time; but he missed the play and games of the little men, and determined to go back to them. but when he came to where the cave had been, near the river where the underground passage commenced, he could not find it again, and though he searched again and again in the years to come, he could not get back to that fair country. so after a time he went back to the monastery, and became in due course a monk. and men used to come and seek him out, and ask him what had happened to him when he was in the land of the little men. nor could he ever speak of that happy time without shedding tears. now it happened once, when this elidore was old, that david, bishop of st. david's, came to visit his monastery and ask him about the manners and customs of the little men, and above all, he was curious to know what language they spoke; and elidore told him some of their words. when they asked for water, they would say: _udor udorum_; and when they wanted salt, they would say: _hapru udorum_. and from this, the bishop, who was a learned man, discovered that they spoke some sort of greek. for _udor_ is greek for _water_, and _hap_ for _salt_. hence we know that the britons came from troy, being descendants from brito, son of priam, king of troy. the leeching of kayn's leg. [illustration: t] there were five hundred blind men, and five hundred deaf men, and five hundred limping men, and five hundred dumb men, and five hundred cripple men. the five hundred deaf men had five hundred wives, and the five hundred limping men had five hundred wives, and the five hundred dumb men had five hundred wives, and the five hundred cripple men had five hundred wives. each five hundred of these had five hundred children and five hundred dogs. they were in the habit of going about in one band, and were called the sturdy strolling beggarly brotherhood. there was a knight in erin called o'cronicert, with whom they spent a day and a year; and they ate up all that he had, and made a poor man of him, till he had nothing left but an old tumble-down black house, and an old lame white horse. there was a king in erin called brian boru; and o'cronicert went to him for help. he cut a cudgel of grey oak on the outskirts of the wood, mounted the old lame white horse, and set off at speed through wood and over moss and rugged ground, till he reached the king's house. when he arrived he went on his knees to the king; and the king said to him, "what is your news, o'cronicert?" "i have but poor news for you, king." "what poor news have you?" said the king. "that i have had the sturdy strolling beggarly brotherhood for a day and a year, and they have eaten all that i had, and made a poor man of me," said he. "well!" said the king, "i am sorry for you; what do you want?" "i want help," said o'cronicert; "anything that you may be willing to give me." the king promised him a hundred cows. he went to the queen, and made his complaint to her, and she gave him another hundred. he went to the king's son, murdoch mac brian, and he got another hundred from him. he got food and drink at the king's; and when he was going away he said, "now i am very much obliged to you. this will set me very well on my feet. after all that i have got there is another thing that i want." "what is it?" said the king. "it is the lap-dog that is in and out after the queen that i wish for." "ha!" said the king, "it is your mightiness and pride that has caused the loss of your means; but if you become a good man you shall get this along with the rest." o'cronicert bade the king good-bye, took the lap-dog, leapt on the back of the old lame white horse, and went off at speed through wood, and over moss and rugged ground. after he had gone some distance through the wood a roebuck leapt up and the lap-dog went after it. in a moment the deer started up as a woman behind o'cronicert, the handsomest that eye had ever seen from the beginning of the universe till the end of eternity. she said to him, "call your dog off me." "i will do so if you promise to marry me," said o'cronicert. "if you keep three vows that i shall lay upon you i will marry you," said she. "what vows are they?" said he. "the first is that you do not go to ask your worldly king to a feast or a dinner without first letting me know," said she. "hoch!" said o'cronicert, "do you think that i cannot keep that vow? i would never go to invite my worldly king without informing you that i was going to do so. it is easy to keep that vow." "you are likely to keep it!" said she. "the second vow is," said she, "that you do not cast up to me in any company or meeting in which we shall be together, that you found me in the form of a deer." "hoo!" said o'cronicert, "you need not to lay that vow upon me. i would keep it at any rate." "you are likely to keep it!" said she. "the third vow is," said she, "that you do not leave me in the company of only one man while you go out." it was agreed between them that she should marry him. they reached the old tumble-down black house. grass they cut in the clefts and ledges of the rocks; a bed they made and laid down. o'cronicert's wakening from sleep was the lowing of cattle and the bleating of sheep and the neighing of mares, while he himself was in a bed of gold on wheels of silver, going from end to end of the tower of castle town. "i am sure that you are surprised," said she. "i am indeed," said he. "you are in your own room," said she. "in my own room," said he. "i never had such a room." "i know well that you never had," said she; "but you have it now. so long as you keep me you shall keep the room." he then rose, and put on his clothes, and went out. he took a look at the house when he went out; and it was a palace, the like of which he had never seen, and the king himself did not possess. he then took a walk round the farm; and he never saw so many cattle, sheep, and horses as were on it. he returned to the house, and said to his wife that the farm was being ruined by other people's cattle and sheep. "it is not," said she: "your own cattle and sheep are on it." "i never had so many cattle and sheep," said he. "i know that," said she; "but so long as you keep me you shall keep them. there is no good wife whose tocher does not follow her." he was now in good circumstances, indeed wealthy. he had gold and silver, as well as cattle and sheep. he went about with his gun and dogs hunting every day, and was a great man. it occurred to him one day that he would go to invite the king of erin to dinner, but he did not tell his wife that he was going. his first vow was now broken. he sped away to the king of erin, and invited him and his great court to dinner. the king of erin said to him, "do you intend to take away the cattle that i promised you?" "oh! no, king of erin," said o'cronicert; "i could give you as many to-day." "ah!" said the king, "how well you have got on since i saw you last!" "i have indeed," said o'cronicert! "i have fallen in with a rich wife who has plenty of gold and silver, and of cattle and sheep." "i am glad of that," said the king of erin. o'cronicert said, "i shall feel much obliged if you will go with me to dinner, yourself and your great court." "we will do so willingly," said the king. they went with him on that same day. it did not occur to o'cronicert how a dinner could be prepared for the king without his wife knowing that he was coming. when they were going on, and had reached the place where o'cronicert had met the deer, he remembered that his vow was broken, and he said to the king, "excuse me; i am going on before to the house to tell that you are coming." the king said, "we will send off one of the lads." "you will not," said o'cronicert; "no lad will serve the purpose so well as myself." he set off to the house; and when he arrived his wife was diligently preparing dinner. he told her what he had done, and asked her pardon. "i pardon you this time," said she: "i know what you have done as well as you do yourself. the first of your vows is broken." the king and his great court came to o'cronicert's house; and the wife had everything ready for them as befitted a king and great people; every kind of drink and food. they spent two or three days and nights at dinner, eating and drinking. they were praising the dinner highly, and o'cronicert himself was praising it; but his wife was not. o'cronicert was angry that she was not praising it and he went and struck her in the mouth with his fist and knocked out two of her teeth. "why are you not praising the dinner like the others, you contemptible deer?" said he. "i am not," said she: "i have seen my father's big dogs having a better dinner than you are giving to-night to the king of erin and his court." o'cronicert got into such a rage that he went outside of the door. he was not long standing there when a man came riding on a black horse, who in passing caught o'cronicert by the collar of his coat, and took him up behind him: and they set off. the rider did not say a word to o'cronicert. the horse was going so swiftly that o'cronicert thought the wind would drive his head off. they arrived at a big, big palace, and came off the black horse. a stableman came out, and caught the horse, and took it in. it was with wine that he was cleaning the horse's feet. the rider of the black horse said to o'cronicert, "taste the wine to see if it is better than the wine that you are giving to brian boru and his court to-night." o'cronicert tasted the wine, and said, "this is better wine." the rider of the black horse said, "how unjust was the fist a little ago! the wind from your fist carried the two teeth to me." he then took him into that big, handsome, and noble house, and into a room that was full of gentlemen eating and drinking, and he seated him at the head of the table, and gave him wine to drink, and said to him, "taste that wine to see if it is better than the wine that you are giving to the king of erin and his court to-night." "this is better wine," said o'cronicert. "how unjust was the fist a little ago!" said the rider of the black horse. when all was over the rider of the black horse said, "are you willing to return home now?" "yes," said o'cronicert, "very willing." they then rose, and went to the stable: and the black horse was taken out; and they leaped on its back, and went away. the rider of the black horse said to o'cronicert, after they had set off, "do you know who i am?" "i do not," said o'cronicert. "i am a brother-in-law of yours," said the rider of the black horse; "and though my sister is married to you there is not a king or knight in erin who is a match for her. two of your vows are now broken; and if you break the other vow you shall lose your wife and all that you possess." they arrived at o'cronicert's house; and o'cronicert said, "i am ashamed to go in, as they do not know where i have been since night came." "hoo!" said the rider, "they have not missed you at all. there is so much conviviality among them, that they have not suspected that you have been anywhere. here are the two teeth that you knocked out of the front of your wife's mouth. put them in their place, and they will be as strong as ever." "come in with me," said o'cronicert to the rider of the black horse. "i will not: i disdain to go in," said the rider of the black horse. the rider of the black horse bade o'cronicert good-bye, and went away. o'cronicert went in; and his wife met him as she was busy waiting on the gentlemen. he asked her pardon, and put the two teeth in the front of her mouth, and they were as strong as ever. she said, "two of your vows are now broken." no one took notice of him when he went in, or said "where have you been?" they spent the night in eating and drinking, and the whole of the next day. in the evening the king said, "i think that it is time for us to be going"; and all said that it was. o'cronicert said, "you will not go to-night. i am going to get up a dance. you will go to-morrow." "let them go," said his wife. "i will not," said he. the dance was set a-going that night. they were playing away at dancing and music till they became warm and hot with perspiration. they were going out one after another to cool themselves at the side of the house. they all went out except o'cronicert and his wife, and a man called kayn mac loy. o'cronicert himself went out, and left his wife and kayn mac loy in the house, and when she saw that he had broken his third vow she gave a spring through a room, and became a big filly, and gave kayn mac loy a kick with her foot, and broke his thigh in two. she gave another spring, and smashed the door and went away, and was seen no more. she took with her the tower of castle town as an armful on her shoulder and a light burden on her back, and she left kayn mac loy in the old tumble-down black house in a pool of rain-drip on the floor. at daybreak next day poor o'cronicert could only see the old house that he had before. neither cattle nor sheep, nor any of the fine things that he had was to be seen. one awoke in the morning beside a bush, another beside a dyke, and another beside a ditch. the king only had the honour of having o'cronicert's little hut over his head. as they were leaving, murdoch mac brian remembered that he had left his own foster-brother kayn mac loy behind, and said there should be no separation in life between them and that he would go back for him. he found kayn in the old tumble-down black house, in the middle of the floor, in a pool of rain-water, with his leg broken; and he said the earth should make a nest in his sole and the sky a nest in his head if he did not find a man to cure kayn's leg. they told him that on the isle of innisturk was a herb that would heal him. so kayn mac loy was then borne away, and sent to the island, and he was supplied with as much food as would keep him for a month, and with two crutches on which he would be going out and in as he might desire. at last the food was spent, and he was destitute, and he had not found the herb. he was in the habit of going down to the shore, and gathering shell-fish, and eating it. as he was one day on the shore, he saw a big, big man landing on the island, and he could see the earth and the sky between his legs. he set off with the crutches to try if he could get into the hut before the big man would come upon him. despite his efforts, the big man was between him and the door, and said to him, "unless you deceive me, you are kayn mac loy." kayn mac loy said, "i have never deceived a man: i am he." the big man said to him: "stretch out your leg, kayn, till i put a salve of herbs and healing to it. salve and binding herb and the poultice are cooling; the worm is channering. pressure and haste hard bind me, for i must hear mass in the great church at rome, and be in norway before i sleep." kayn mac loy said: "may it be no foot to kayn or a foot to any one after one, or i be kayn son of loy, if i stretch out my foot for you to put a salve of herbs and healing on it, till you tell me why you have no church of your own in norway, so as, as now, to be going to the great church of rome to rome to-morrow. unless you deceive me you are machkan-an-athar, the son of the king of lochlann." the big man said, "i have never deceived any man: i am he. i am now going to tell you why we have not a church in lochlann. seven masons came to build a church, and they and my father were bargaining about the building of it. the agreement that the masons wanted was that my mother and sister would go to see the interior of the church when it would be finished. my father was glad to get the church built so cheaply. they agreed accordingly; and the masons went in the morning to the place where the church was to be built. my father pointed out the spot for the foundation. they began to build in the morning, and the church was finished before the evening. when it was finished they requested my mother and sister to go to see its interior. they had no sooner entered than the doors were shut; and the church went away into the skies in the form of a tuft of mist. [illustration] "stretch out your leg, kayn, till i put a salve of herbs and healing to it. salve and binding herb and the poultice are cooling; the worm is channering. pressure and haste hard bind me, for i must hear mass in the great church at rome, and be in norway before i sleep." kayn mac loy said: "may it be no foot to kayn or a foot to any one after one, or i be kayn son of loy, if i stretch out my foot for you to put a salve of herbs and healing on it, till you tell me if you heard what befell your mother and sister." "ah!" said the big man, "the mischief is upon you; that tale is long to tell; but i will tell you a short tale about the matter. on the day on which they were working at the church i was away in the hill hunting game; and when i came home in the evening my brother told me what had happened, namely, that my mother and sister had gone away in the form of a tuft of mist. i became so cross and angry that i resolved to destroy the world till i should find out where my mother and sister were. my brother said to me that i was a fool to think of such a thing. 'i'll tell you,' said he, 'what you'll do. you will first go to try to find out where they are. when you find out where they are you will demand them peaceably, and if you do not get them peaceably you will fight for them.' "i took my brother's advice, and prepared a ship to set off with. i set off alone, and embraced the ocean. i was overtaken by a great mist, and i came upon an island, and there was a large number of ships at anchor near it; i went in amongst them, and went ashore. i saw there a big, big woman reaping rushes; and when she would raise her head she would throw her right breast over her shoulder and when she would bend it would fall down between her legs. i came once behind her, and caught the breast with my mouth, and said to her, 'you are yourself witness, woman, that i am the foster-son of your right breast.' 'i perceive that, great hero,' said the old woman, 'but my advice to you is to leave this island as fast as you can.' 'why?' said i. 'there is a big giant in the cave up there,' said she, 'and every one of the ships that you see he has taken in from the ocean with his breath, and he has killed and eaten the men. he is asleep at present, and when he wakens he will have you in a similar manner. a large iron door and an oak door are on the cave. when the giant draws in his breath the doors open, and when he emits his breath the doors shut; and they are shut as fast as though seven small bars, and seven large bars, and seven locks were on them. so fast are they that seven crowbars could not force them open.' i said to the old woman, 'is there any way of destroying him?' 'i'll tell you,' said she, 'how it can be done. he has a weapon above the door that is called the short spear: and if you succeed in taking off his head with the first blow it will be well; but if you do not, the case will be worse than it was at first.' "i set off, and reached the cave, the two doors of which opened. the giant's breath drew me into the cave; and stools, chairs, and pots were by its action dashing against each other, and like to break my legs. the door shut when i went in, and was shut as fast as though seven small bars, and seven large bars, and seven locks were on it; and seven crowbars could not force it open; and i was a prisoner in the cave. the giant drew in his breath again, and the doors opened. i gave a look upwards, and saw the short spear, and laid hold of it. i drew the short spear, and i warrant you that i dealt him such a blow with it as did not require to be repeated; i swept the head off him. i took the head down to the old woman, who was reaping the rushes, and said to her, 'there is the giant's head for you.' the old woman said, 'brave man! i knew that you were a hero. this island had need of your coming to it to-day. unless you deceive me, you are mac connachar son of the king of lochlann.' 'i have never deceived a man. i am he,' said i. 'i am a soothsayer,' said she, 'and know the object of your journey. you are going in quest of your mother and sister.' 'well,' said i, 'i am so far on the way if i only knew where to go for them.' 'i'll tell you where they are,' said she; 'they are in the kingdom of the red shield, and the king of the red shield is resolved to marry your mother, and his son is resolved to marry your sister. i'll tell you how the town is situated. a canal of seven times seven paces breadth surrounds it. on the canal there is a drawbridge, which is guarded during the day by two creatures that no weapon can pierce, as they are covered all over with scales, except two spots below the neck in which their death-wounds lie. their names are roar and rustle. when night comes the bridge is raised, and the monsters sleep. a very high and big wall surrounds the king's palace.' "stretch out your leg, kayn, till i put a salve of herbs and healing to it. salve and binding herb and the poultice are cooling; the worm is channering. pressure and haste hard bind me, for i must hear mass in the great church at rome, and be in norway before i sleep." kayn mac loy said: "may it be no foot to kayn or a foot to any one after one, or i be kayn son of loy, if i stretch out my foot for you to put a salve of herbs and healing on it, till you tell me if you went farther in search of your mother and sister, or if you returned home, or what befell you." "ah!" said the big man, "the mischief is upon you; that tale is long to tell; but i will tell you another tale. i set off, and reached the big town of the red shield; and it was surrounded by a canal, as the old woman told me; and there was a drawbridge on the canal. it was night when i arrived, and the bridge was raised, and the monsters were asleep. i measured two feet before me and a foot behind me of the ground on which i was standing, and i sprang on the end of my spear and on my tiptoes, and reached the place where the monsters were asleep; and i drew the short spear, and i warrant you that i dealt them such a blow below the neck as did not require to be repeated. i took up the heads and hung them on one of the posts of the bridge. i then went on to the wall that surrounded the king's palace. this wall was so high that it was not easy for me to spring over it; and i set to work with the short spear, and dug a hole through it, and got in. i went to the door of the palace and knocked; and the doorkeeper called out, 'who is there?' 'it is i,' said i. my mother and sister recognised my speech; and my mother called, 'oh! it is my son; let him in.' i then got in, and they rose to meet me with great joy. i was supplied with food, drink, and a good bed. in the morning breakfast was set before us; and after it i said to my mother and sister that they had better make ready, and go with me. the king of the red shield said, 'it shall not be so. i am resolved to marry your mother, and my son is resolved to marry your sister.' 'if you wish to marry my mother, and if your son wishes to marry my sister, let both of you accompany me to my home, and you shall get them there.' the king of the red shield said, 'so be it.' [illustration] "we then set off, and came to where my ship was, went on board of it, and sailed home. when we were passing a place where a great battle was going on, i asked the king of the red shield what battle it was, and the cause of it. 'don't you know at all?' said the king of the red shield. 'i do not,' said i. the king of the red shield said, 'that is the battle for the daughter of the king of the great universe, the most beautiful woman in the world; and whoever wins her by his heroism shall get her in marriage. do you see yonder castle?' 'i do,' said i. 'she is on the top of that castle, and sees from it the hero that wins her,' said the king of the red shield. i requested to be put on shore, that i might win her by my swiftness and strength. they put me on shore; and i got a sight of her on the top of the castle. having measured two feet behind me and a foot before me, i sprang on the end of my spear and on my tiptoes, and reached the top of the castle; and i caught the daughter of the king of the universe in my arms and flung her over the castle. i was with her and intercepted her before she reached the ground, and i took her away on my shoulder, and set off to the shore as fast as i could, and delivered her to the king of the red shield to be put on board the ship. 'am i not the best warrior that ever sought you?' said i. 'you can jump well' said she, 'but i have not seen any of your prowess.' i turned back to meet the warriors, and attacked them with the short spear, and did not leave a head on a neck of any of them. i then returned, and called to the king of the red shield to come in to the shore for me. pretending not to hear me, he set the sails in order to return home with the daughter of the king of the great universe, and marry her. i measured two feet behind me and a foot before me, and sprang on the end of my spear and on my tiptoes and got on board the ship. i then said to the king of the red shield, 'what were you going to do? why did you not wait for me?' 'oh!' said the king, 'i was only making the ship ready and setting the sails to her before going on shore for you. do you know what i am thinking of?' 'i do not,' said i. 'it is,' said the king, 'that i will return home with the daughter of the king of the great universe, and that you shall go home with your mother and sister.' 'that is not to be the way of it,' said i. 'she whom i have won by my prowess neither you nor any other shall get.' "the king had a red shield, and if he should get it on, no weapon could make an impression on him. he began to put on the red shield, and i struck him with the short spear in the middle of his body, and cut him in two, and threw him overboard. i then struck the son, and swept his head off, and threw him overboard. "stretch out your leg, kayn, till i put a salve of herbs and healing to it. salve and binding herb and the poultice are cooling; the worm is channering. pressure and haste hard bind me, for i must hear mass in the great church at rome, and be in norway before i sleep." kayn mac loy said: "may it be no foot to kayn or a foot to any one after one, or i be kayn son of loy, if i stretch out my foot for you to put a salve of herbs and healing on it, till you tell me whether any search was made for the daughter of the king of the universe." "ah! the mischief is upon you," said the big man; "i will tell you another short tale. i came home with my mother and sister, and the daughter of the king of the universe, and i married the daughter of the king of the universe. the first son i had i named machkan-na-skaya-jayrika (son of the red shield). not long after this a hostile force came to enforce compensation for the king of the red shield, and a hostile force came from the king of the universe to enforce compensation for the daughter of the king of the universe. i took the daughter of the king of the universe with me on the one shoulder and machkan-na-skaya-jayrika on the other, and i went on board the ship and set the sails to her, and i placed the ensign of the king of the great universe on the one mast, and that of the king of the red shield on the other, and i blew a trumpet, and passed through the midst of them, and i said to them that here was the man, and that if they were going to enforce their claims, this was the time. all the ships that were there chased me; and we set out on the expanse of ocean. my ship would be equalled in speed by but few. one day a thick dark mist came on, and they lost sight of me. it happened that i came to an island called the wet mantle. i built a hut there; and another son was born to me, and i called him son of the wet mantle. "i was a long time in that island; but there was enough of fruit, fish, and birds in it. my two sons had grown to be somewhat big. as i was one day out killing birds, i saw a big, big man coming towards the island, and i ran to try if i could get into the house before him. he met me, and caught me, and put me into a bog up to the armpits, and he went into the house, and took out on his shoulder the daughter of the king of the universe, and passed close to me in order to irritate me the more. the saddest look that i ever gave or ever shall give was that i gave when i saw the daughter of the king of the universe on the shoulder of another, and could not take her from him. the boys came out where i was; and i bade them bring me the short spear from the house. they dragged the short spear after them, and brought it to me; and i cut the ground around me with it till i got out. "i was a long time in the wet mantle, even till my two sons grew to be big lads. they asked me one day if i had any thought of going to seek their mother. i told them that i was waiting till they were stronger, and that they should then go with me. they said that they were ready to go with me at any time. i said to them that we had better get the ship ready, and go. they said, 'let each of us have a ship to himself.' we arranged accordingly; and each went his own way. "as i happened one day to be passing close to land i saw a great battle going on. being under vows never to pass a battle without helping the weaker side, i went on shore, and set to work with the weaker side, and i knocked the head off every one with the short spear. being tired, i lay myself down among the bodies and fell asleep. "stretch out your leg, kayn, till i put a salve of herbs and healing to it. salve and binding herb and the poultice are cooling; the worm is channering. pressure and haste hard bind me, for i must hear mass in the great church at rome, and be in norway before i sleep." kayn mac loy said: "may it be no foot to kayn or a foot to any one after one, or i be kayn son of loy, if i stretch out my foot for you to put a salve of herbs and healing on it, till you tell me if you found the daughter of the king of the universe, or if you went home, or what happened to you." [illustration] "the mischief is upon you," said the big man; "that tale is long to tell, but i will tell another short tale. when i awoke out of sleep i saw a ship making for the place where i was lying, and a big giant with only one eye dragging it after him: and the ocean reached no higher than his knees. he had a big fishing-rod with a big strong line hanging from it on which was a very big hook. he was throwing the line ashore, and fixing the hook in a body, and lifting it on board, and he continued this work till the ship was loaded with bodies. he fixed the hook once in my clothes; but i was so heavy that the rod could not carry me on board. he had to go on shore himself, and carry me on board in his arms. i was then in a worse plight than i ever was in. the giant set off with the ship, which he dragged after him, and reached a big, precipitous rock, in the face of which he had a large cave: and a damsel as beautiful as i ever saw came out, and stood in the door of the cave. he was handing the bodies to her, and she was taking hold of them and putting them into the cave. as she took hold of each body she said, 'are you alive?' at last the giant took hold of me, and handed me in to her, and said, 'keep him apart; he is a large body, and i will have him to breakfast the first day that i go from home.' my best time was not when i heard the giant's sentence upon me. when he had eaten enough of the bodies, his dinner and supper, he lay down to sleep. when he began to snore the damsel came to speak to me; and she told me that she was a king's daughter the giant had stolen away and that she had no way of getting away from him. 'i am now,' she said, 'seven years except two days with him, and there is a drawn sword between us. he dared not come nearer me than that till the seven years should expire.' i said to her, 'is there no way of killing him?' 'it is not easy to kill him, but we will devise an expedient for killing him,' said she. 'look at that pointed bar that he uses for roasting the bodies. at dead of night gather the embers of the fire together, and put the bar in the fire till it be red. go, then, and thrust it into his eye with all your strength, and take care that he does not get hold of you, for if he does he will mince you as small as midges.' i then went and gathered the embers together, and put the bar in the fire, and made it red, and thrust it into his eye; and from the cry that he gave i thought that the rock had split. the giant sprang to his feet and chased me through the cave in order to catch me; and i picked up a stone that lay on the floor of the cave, and pitched it into the sea; and it made a plumping noise. the bar was sticking in his eye all the time. thinking it was i that had sprung into the sea, he rushed to the mouth of the cave, and the bar struck against the doorpost of the cave, and knocked off his brain-cap. the giant fell down cold and dead, and the damsel and i were seven years and seven days throwing him into the sea in pieces. [illustration: koisha kayn] "i wedded the damsel, and a boy was born to us. after seven years i started forth again. "i gave her a gold ring, with my name on it, for the boy, and when he was old enough he was sent out to seek me. "i then set off to the place where i fought the battle, and found the short spear where i left it; and i was very pleased that i found it, and that the ship was safe. i sailed a day's distance from that place, and entered a pretty bay that was there, hauled my ship up above the shore, and erected a hut there, in which i slept at night. when i rose next day i saw a ship making straight for the place where i was. when it struck the ground, a big, strong champion came out of it, and hauled it up; and if it did not surpass my ship it was not a whit inferior to it; and i said to him, 'what impertinent fellow are you that has dared to haul up your ship alongside of my ship?' 'i am machkan-na-skaya-jayrika,' said the champion, 'going to seek the daughter of the king of the universe for mac connachar, son of the king of lochlann.' i saluted and welcomed him, and said to him, 'i am your father: it is well that you have come.' we passed the night cheerily in the hut. "when i arose on the following day i saw another ship making straight for the place where i was; and a big, strong hero came out of it, and hauled it up alongside of our ships; and if it did not surpass them it was not a whit inferior to them. 'what impertinent fellow are you that has dared to haul up your ship alongside of our ships?' said i. 'i am,' said he, 'the son of the wet mantle, going to seek the daughter of the king of the universe for mac connachar, son of the king of lochlann.' 'i am your father, and this is your brother: it is well that you have come,' said i. we passed the night together in the hut, my two sons and i. "when i rose next day i saw another ship coming, and making straight for the place where i was. a big, strong champion sprang out of it, and hauled it up alongside of our ships; and if it was not higher than they, it was not lower. i went down where he was, and said to him, 'what impertinent fellow are you that has dared to haul up your ship alongside of our ships?' 'i am the son of the wet mantle,' said he, 'going to seek the daughter of the king of the universe for mac connachar, son of the king of lochlann.' 'have you any token in proof of that?' said i. 'i have,' said he: 'here is a ring that my mother gave me at my father's request.' i took hold of the ring, and saw my name on it: and the matter was beyond doubt. i said to him, 'i am your father, and here are two half-brothers of yours. we are now stronger for going in quest of the daughter of the king of the universe. four piles are stronger than three piles.' we spent that night cheerily and comfortably together in the hut. "on the morrow we met a soothsayer, and he spoke to us: 'you are going in quest of the daughter of the king of the universe. i will tell you where she is: she is with the son of the blackbird.' "machkan-na-skaya-jayrika then went and called for combat with a hundred fully trained heroes, or the sending out to him of the daughter of the king of the universe. the hundred went out; and he and they began on each other, and he killed every one of them. the son of the wet mantle called for combat with another hundred, or the sending out of the daughter of the king of the universe. he killed that hundred with the short spear. the son of secret called for combat with another hundred, or the daughter of the king of the universe. he killed every one of these with the short spear. i then went out to the field, and sounded a challenge on the shield, and made the town tremble. the son of the blackbird had not a man to send out: he had to come out himself; and he and i began on each other, and i drew the short spear, and swept his head off. i then went into the castle, and took out the daughter of the king of the universe. it was thus that it fared with me. "stretch out your leg, kayn, till i put a salve of herbs and healing to it. salve and binding herb and the poultice are cooling; the worm is channering. pressure and haste hard bind me, for i must hear mass in the great church at rome, and be in norway before i sleep." kayn mac loy stretched his leg; and the big man applied to it leaves of herbs and healing; and it was healed. the big man took him ashore from the island, and allowed him to go home to the king. thus did o'cronicert win and lose a wife, and thus befell the leeching of the leg of kayn, son of loy. how fin went to the kingdom of the big men. [illustration: f] fin and his men were in the harbour of the hill of howth on a hillock, behind the wind and in front of the sun, where they could see every person, and nobody could see them, when they saw a speck coming from the west. they thought at first it was the blackness of a shower; but when it came nearer, they saw it was a boat. it did not lower sail till it entered the harbour. there were three men in it; one for guide in the bow, one for steering in the stern, and one for the tackle in the centre. they came ashore, and drew it up seven times its own length in dry grey grass, where the scholars of the city could not make it stock for derision or ridicule. they then went up to a lovely green spot, and the first lifted a handful of round pebbles or shingle, and commanded them to become a beautiful house, that no better could be found in ireland; and this was done. the second one lifted a slab of slate, and commanded it to be slate on the top of the house, that there was not better in ireland; and this was done. the third one caught a bunch of shavings and commanded them to be pine-wood and timber in the house, that there was not in ireland better; and this was done. this caused much wonder to fin, who went down where the men were, and made inquiries of them, and they answered him. he asked whence they were, or whither they were going. they said, "we are three heroes whom the king of the big men has sent to ask combat of the fians." he then asked, "what was the reason for doing this?" they said they did not know, but they heard that they were strong men, and they came to ask combat of heroes from them. "is fin at home?" "he is not." (great is a man's leaning towards his own life). fin then put them under crosses and under enchantments, that they were not to move from the place where they were till they saw him again. he went away and made ready his coracle, gave its stern to land and prow to sea, hoisted the spotted towering sails against the long, tough, lance-shaped mast, cleaving the billows in the embrace of the wind in whirls, with a soft gentle breeze from the height of the sea-coast, and from the rapid tide of the red rocks, that would take willom from the hill, foliage from the tree, and heather from its stock and roots. fin was guide in her prow, helm in her stern, and tackle in her middle; and stopping of head or foot he did not make till he reached the kingdom of the big men. he went ashore and drew up his coracle in grey grass. he went up, and a big wayfarer met him. fin asked who he was. "i am," he said, "the red-haired coward of the king of the big men; and," said he to fin, "you are the one i am in quest of. great is my esteem and respect towards you; you are the best maiden i have ever seen; you will yourself make a dwarf for the king, and your dog (this was bran) a lapdog. it is long since the king has been in want of a dwarf and a lapdog." he took with him fin; but another big man came, and was going to take fin from him. the two fought; but when they had torn each other's clothes, they left it to fin to judge. he chose the first one. he took fin with him to the palace of the king, whose worthies and high nobles assembled to see the little man. the king lifted him upon the palm of his hand, and went three times round the town with fin upon one palm and bran upon the other. he made a sleeping-place for him at the end of his own bed. fin was waiting, watching, and observing everything that was going on about the house. he observed that the king, as soon as night came, rose and went out, and returned no more till morning. this caused him much wonder, and at last he asked the king why he went away every night and left the queen by herself. "why," said the king, "do you ask?" "for satisfaction to myself," said fin; "for it is causing me much wonder." now the king had a great liking for fin; he never saw anything that gave him more pleasure than he did; and at last he told him. "there is," he said, "a great monster who wants my daughter in marriage, and to have half my kingdom to himself; and there is not another man in the kingdom who can meet him but myself; and i must go every night to hold combat with him." "is there," said fin, "no man to combat with him but yourself?" "there is not," said the king, "one who will war with him for a single night." "it is a pity," said fin, "that this should be called the kingdom of the big men. is he bigger than yourself?" "never you mind," said the king. "i will mind," said fin; "take your rest and sleep to-night, and i shall go to meet him." "is it you?" said the king; "you would not keep half a stroke against him." when night came, and all men went to rest, the king was for going away as usual; but fin at last prevailed upon him to allow himself to go. "i shall combat him," said he, "or else he knows a trick." "i think much," said the king, "of allowing you to go, seeing he gives myself enough to do." "sleep you soundly to-night," said fin, "and let me go; if he comes too violently upon me, i shall hasten home." fin went and reached the place where the combat was to be. he saw no one before him, and he began to pace backwards and forwards. at last he saw the sea coming in kilns of fire and as a darting serpent, till it came down below where he was. a huge monster came up and looked towards him, and from him. "what little speck do i see there?" he said. "it is i," said fin. "what are you doing here?" "i am a messenger from the king of the big men; he is under much sorrow and distress; the queen has just died, and i have come to ask if you will be so good as to go home to-night without giving trouble to the kingdom." "i shall do that," said he; and he went away with the rough humming of a song in his mouth. fin went home when the time came, and lay down in his own bed, at the foot of the king's bed. when the king awoke, he cried out in great anxiety, "my kingdom is lost, and my dwarf and my lapdog are killed!" "they are not," said fin; "i am here yet; and you have got your sleep, a thing you were saying it was rare for you to get." "how," said the king, "did you escape, when you are so little, while he is enough for myself, though i am so big." "though you," said fin, "are so big and strong, i am quick and active." [illustration] next night the king was for going; but fin told him to take his sleep to-night again. "i shall stand myself in your place, or else a better hero than yonder one must come." "he will kill you," said the king. "i shall take my chance," said fin. he went, and as happened the night before, he saw no one; and he began to pace backwards and forwards. he saw the sea coming in fiery kilns and as a darting serpent; and that huge man came up. "are you here to-night again?" said he. "i am, and this is my errand: when the queen was being put in the coffin, and the king heard the coffin being nailed, and the joiner's stroke, he broke his heart with pain and grief; and the _parliament_ has sent me to ask you to go home to-night till they get the king buried." the monster went this night also, roughly humming a song; and fin went home when the time came. in the morning the king awoke in great anxiety, and called out, "my kingdom is lost, and my dwarf and my lapdog are killed!" and he greatly rejoiced that fin and bran were alive, and that he himself got rest, after being so long without sleep. fin went the third night, and things happened as before. there was no one before him, and he took to pacing to and fro. he saw the sea coming till it came down below him: the big monster came up; he saw the little black speck, and asked who was there, and what he wanted. "i have come to combat you," said fin. fin and bran began the combat. fin was going backwards, and the huge man was following. fin called to bran, "are you going to let him kill me?" bran had a venomous shoe; and he leaped and struck the huge man with the venomous shoe on the breast-bone, and took the heart and lungs out of him. fin drew his sword, mac-a-luin, cut off his head, put it on a hempen rope, and went with it to the palace of the king. he took it into the _kitchen_, and put it behind the door. in the morning the servant could not turn it, nor open the door. the king went down; he saw the huge mass, caught it by the top of the head, and lifted it, and knew it was the head of the man who was for so long a time asking combat from him, and keeping him from sleep. "how at all," said he, "has this head come here? surely it is not my dwarf that has done it." "why," said fin, "should he not?" next night the king wanted to go himself to the place of combat; "because," said he, "a bigger one than the former will come to-night, and the kingdom will be destroyed, and you yourself killed; and i shall lose the pleasure i take in having you with me." but fin went, and that big man came, asking vengeance for his son, and to have the kingdom for himself, or equal combat. he and fin fought; and fin was going backwards. he spoke to bran, "are you going to allow him to kill me?" bran whined, and went and sat down on the beach. fin was ever being driven back, and he called out again to bran. then bran jumped and struck the big man with the venomous shoe, and took the heart and the lungs out of him. fin cut the head off, and took it with him, and left it in front of the house. the king awoke in great terror, and cried out, "my kingdom is lost, and my dwarf and my lapdog are killed!" fin raised himself up and said, "they are not"; and the king's joy was not small when he went out and saw the head that was in front of the house. the next night a big hag came ashore, and the tooth in the door of her mouth would make a distaff. she sounded a challenge on her shield: "you killed," she said, "my husband and my son." "i did kill them," said fin. they fought; and it was worse for fin to guard himself from the tooth than from the hand of the big hag. when she had nearly done for him bran struck her with the venomous shoe, and killed her as he had done to the rest. fin took with him the head, and left it in front of the house. the king awoke in great anxiety, and called out, "my kingdom is lost, and my dwarf and my lapdog are killed!" "they are not," said fin, answering him; and when they went out and saw the head, the king said, "i and my kingdom will have peace ever after this. the mother herself of the brood is killed; but tell me who you are. it was foretold for me that it would be fin-mac-coul that would give me relief, and he is only now eighteen years of age. who are you, then, or what is your name?" "there never stood," said fin, "on hide of cow or horse, one to whom i would deny my name. i am fin, the son of coul, son of looach, son of trein, son of fin, son of art, son of the young high king of erin; and it is time for me now to go home. it has been with much wandering out of my way that i have come to your kingdom; and this is the reason why i have come, that i might find out what injury i have done to you, or the reason why you sent the three heroes to ask combat from me, and bring destruction on my men." "you never did any injury to me," said the king; "and i ask a thousand pardons. i did not send the heroes to you. it is not the truth they told. they were three men who were courting three fairy women, and these gave them their shirts; and when they have on their shirts, the combat of a hundred men is upon the hand of every one of them. but they must put off the shirts every night, and put them on the backs of chairs; and if the shirts were taken from them they would be next day as weak as other people." fin got every honour, and all that the king could give him, and when he went away, the king and the queen and the people went down to the shore to give him their blessing. fin now went away in his coracle, and was sailing close by the side of the shore, when he saw a young man running and calling out to him. fin came in close to land with his coracle, and asked what he wanted. "i am," said the young man, "a good servant wanting a master." "what work can you do?" said fin. "i am," said he, "the best soothsayer that there is." "jump into the boat then." the soothsayer jumped in, and they went forward. they did not go far when another youth came running. "i am," he said, "a good servant wanting a master." "what work can you do?" said fin. "i am as good a thief as there is." "jump into the boat, then"; and fin took with him this one also. they saw then a third young man running and calling out. they came close to land. "what man are you?" said fin. "i am," said he, "the best climber that there is. i will take up a hundred pounds on my back in a place where a fly could not stand on a calm summer day." "jump in"; and this one came in also. "i have my pick of servants now," said fin; "it cannot be but these will suffice." they went; and stop of head or foot they did not make till they reached the harbour of the hill of howth. he asked the soothsayer what the three big men were doing. "they are," he said, "after their supper, and making ready for going to bed." he asked a second time. "they are," he said, "after going to bed; and their shirts are spread on the back of chairs." after a while, fin asked him again, "what are the big men doing now?" "they are," said the soothsayer, "sound asleep." "it would be a good thing if there was now a thief to go and steal the shirts." "i would do that," said the thief, "but the doors are locked, and i cannot get in." "come," said the climber, "on my back, and i shall put you in." he took him up upon his back to the top of the chimney, and let him down, and he stole the shirts. fin went where the fian band was; and in the morning they came to the house where the three big men were. they sounded a challenge upon their shields, and asked them to come out to combat. they came out. "many a day," said they, "have we been better for combat than we are to-day," and they confessed to fin everything as it was. "you were," said fin, "impertinent, but i will forgive you"; and he made them swear that they would be faithful to himself ever after, and ready in every enterprise he would place before them. [illustration] how cormac mac art went to faery. [illustration: c] cormac, son of art, son of conn of the hundred battles, was high king of ireland, and held his court at tara. one day he saw a youth upon the green having in his hand a glittering fairy branch with nine apples of red. and whensoever the branch was shaken, wounded men and women enfeebled by illness would be lulled to sleep by the sound of the very sweet fairy music which those apples uttered, nor could any one upon earth bear in mind any want, woe, or weariness of soul when that branch was shaken for him. "is that branch thy own?" said cormac. "it is indeed mine." "wouldst thou sell it? and what wouldst thou require for it?" "will you give me what i ask?" said the youth. the king promised, and the youth then claimed his wife, his daughter, and his son. sorrowful of heart was the king, heaviness of heart filled his wife and children when they learned that they must part from him. but cormac shook the branch amongst them, and when they heard the soft sweet music of the branch they forgot all care and sorrow and went forth to meet the youth, and he and they took their departure and were seen no more. loud cries of weeping and mourning were made throughout erin when this was known: but cormac shook the branch so that there was no longer any grief or heaviness of heart upon any one. after a year cormac said: "it is a year to-day since my wife, my son, and my daughter were taken from me. i will follow them by the same path that they took." cormac went off, and a dark magical mist rose about him, and he chanced to come upon a wonderful marvellous plain. many horsemen were there, busy thatching a house with the feathers of foreign birds; when one side was thatched they would go and seek more, and when they returned not a feather was on the roof. cormac gazed at them for a while and then went forward. again, he saw a youth dragging up trees to make a fire; but before he could find a second tree the first one would be burnt, and it seemed to cormac that his labour would never end. cormac journeyed onwards until he saw three immense wells on the border of the plain, and on each well was a head. from out the mouth of the first head there flowed two streams, into it there flowed one; the second head had a stream flowing out of and another stream into its mouth, whilst three streams were flowing from the mouth of the third head. great wonder seized cormac, and he said: "i will stay and gaze upon these wells, for i should find no man to tell me your story." with that he set onwards till he came to a house in the middle of a field. he entered and greeted the inmates. there sat within a tall couple clad in many-hued garments, and they greeted the king, and bade him welcome for the night. then the wife bade her husband seek food, and he arose and returned with a huge wild boar upon his back and a log in his hand. he cast down the swine and the log upon the floor, and said: "there is meat; cook it for yourselves." "how can i do that?" said cormac. "i will teach you," said the youth. "split this great log, make four pieces of it, and make four quarters of the hog; put a log under each quarter; tell a true story, and the meat will be cooked." "tell the first story yourself," said cormac. "seven pigs i have of the same kind as the one i brought, and i could feed the world with them. for if a pig is killed i have but to put its bones into the stye again, and it will be found alive the next morning." the story was true, and a quarter of the pig was cooked. then cormac begged the woman of the house to tell a story. "i have seven white cows, and they fill seven cauldrons with milk every day, and i give my word that they yield as much milk as would satisfy the men of the whole world if they were out on yonder plain drinking it." that story was true, and a second quarter of the pig was cooked. cormac was bidden now to tell a story for his quarter, and he told how he was upon a search for his wife, his son and his daughter that had been borne away from him a year before by a youth with a fairy branch. "if what thou sayest be true," said the man of the house, "thou art indeed cormac, son of art, son of conn of the hundred battles." "truly i am," quoth cormac. that story was true, and a quarter of the pig was cooked. "eat thy meal now," said the man of the house. "i never ate before," said cormac, "having only two people in my company." "wouldst thou eat it with three others?" "if they were dear to me, i would," said cormac. then the door opened, and there entered the wife and children of cormac: great was his joy and his exultation. then manannan mac lir, lord of the fairy cavalcade, appeared before him in his own true form, and said thus: "i it was, cormac, who bore away these three from thee. i it was who gave thee this branch, all that i might bring thee here. eat now and drink." "i would do so," said cormac, "could i learn the meaning of the wonders i saw to-day." "thou shalt learn them," said manannan. "the horsemen thatching the roof with feathers are a likeness of people who go forth into the world to seek riches and fortune; when they return their houses are bare, and so they go on for ever. the young man dragging up the trees to make a fire is a likeness of those who labour for others: much trouble they have, but they never warm themselves at the fire. the three heads in the wells are three kinds of men. some there are who give freely when they get freely; some who give freely though they get little; some who get much and give little, and they are the worst of the three, cormac," said manannan. after that cormac and his wife and his children sat down, and a table-cloth was spread before them. "that is a very precious thing before thee," said manannan, "there is no food however delicate that shall be asked of it but it shall be had without doubt." "that is well," quoth cormac. after that manannan thrust his hand into his girdle and brought out a goblet and set it upon his palm. "this cup has this virtue," said he, "that when a false story is told before it, it makes four pieces of it, and when a true story is related it is made whole again." "those are very precious things you have, manannan," said the king. "they shall all be thine," said manannan, "the goblet, the branch and the tablecloth." then they ate their meal, and that meal was good, for they could not think of any meat but they got it upon the table-cloth, nor of any drink but they got it in the cup. great thanks did they give to manannan. when they had eaten their meal a couch was prepared for them and they laid down to slumber and sweet sleep. where they rose on the morrow morn was in tara of the kings, and by their side were tablecloth, cup, and branch. thus did cormac fare at the court of manannan, and this is how he got the fairy branch. the ridere of riddles. [illustration: t] there was a king once, and he married a great lady, and she departed on the birth of her first son. and a little after this the king married another wife, and she too had a son. the two lads grew up tall and strong. then it struck the queen that it was not her son who would come into the kingdom; and she set it before her that she would poison the eldest son. and so she sent advice to the cooks that they should put poison in the drink of the heir; but as luck was in it, the youngest brother heard them, and he told his brother not to take the draught, nor to drink it at all; and so he did. but the queen wondered that the lad was not dead; and she thought that there was not enough of poison in the drink, and she asked the cook to put in more on the second night. it was thus they did: and when the cook made up the drink, she said that he would not be long alive after this draught. but his brother heard this also, and told him likewise. the eldest thought he would put the draught into a little bottle, and he said to his brother--"if i stay in this house i have no doubt she will do for me some way or other, and the quicker i leave the house the better. i will take the world for my pillow, and there is no knowing what fortune will be on me." his brother said that he would go with him, and they took themselves off to the stable, and they put saddles on two horses and they took their soles out of that. they had not gone very far from the house when the eldest one said--"there is no knowing if poison was in the drink at all, though we went away. try it in the horse's ear and we shall see." the horse did not go far before he fell. "that was only a rattle-bones of a horse anyway," said the eldest one, and they got up together on the other horse, and so they went forwards. "but," said he, "i can scarce believe that there is any poison in the drink; let's try it on this horse." that he did, and they went not far when the horse fell cold dead. they thought they'd take the hide off him, and that it would keep them warm at night which was close at hand. in the morning when they woke they saw twelve ravens come and light on the carcase of the horse, and they were not long there when they fell down dead. they went and lifted the ravens, and they took them with them, and the first town they reached they gave the ravens to a baker, and they asked him to make a dozen pies of the ravens. they took the pies with them, and they went forward on their journey. about the mouth of night, and when they were in a great thick wood, there came four and twenty robbers who bade them to deliver up their purses; but they said that they had no purse, but only a little food which they were carrying with them. "good is even meat!" said the robbers, and they began to eat it, but had not eaten much when they fell hither and thither, all stone dead. when they saw that the robbers were dead they ransacked their pockets, and got much gold and silver. they went forward till they reached the knight of riddles. the house of the knight of riddles was in the finest place in that country, and if his house was pretty, his daughter was prettier, and she had twelve maidens with her only less fair than she. her like was not on the surface of the world, altogether so handsome was she; and no one would get her to marry but the man who could put a question to her father that he could not solve. the brothers thought that they would go and try to put a question to him; and the youngest was to stand in place of gillie to the elder brother. they reached the house of the knight of riddles and this was the question they put to him--"one killed two, and two killed twelve, and twelve killed four and twenty, and two got out of it"; and they were to be kept in great majesty and high honour till he should solve the riddle. they were thus a while with the ridere, and try as he might he could not guess the riddle. on a day of days came one of the maidens who were with the knight's daughter to the gillie, and asked him to tell her the question. he took her plaid from her and let her go, but he told her nothing. the same thing happened to the twelve maidens, day after day, and the gillie said to the last one that no creature had the answer to the riddle but his master down below. one day after this came the knight's daughter to the eldest brother, and looking her finest and handsomest, and she asked him to tell her the question. and now there was no refusing her, and he told her, but he kept her plaid. the knight of riddles sent for him, and he gave him the answer of the riddle. and the knight said that he had two choices: to lose his head, or to be set adrift in a crazy boat without food or drink, without oar or scoop. the elder brother spoke, and he said--"i have another riddle to put to thee before all these things happen." "say on," said the knight. "myself and my gillie were one day in the forest shooting. my gillie fired at a hare, and she fell, and he took her skin off, and let her go; and so he did to twelve, he took their skins off and let them go. and at last came a great fine hare, and i myself fired at her, and i took her skin off, and i let her go." "indeed thy riddle is not hard to solve, my lad," said the knight, and he knew the lad knew he had not really guessed the riddle, but had been told the answer. so he gave him his daughter to wife, to make him hold his peace, and they made a great hearty wedding that lasted a day and a year. the youngest one went home now that his brother had got so well on his way, and the eldest brother gave him every right over the kingdom that was at home. now there were near the march of the kingdom of the knight of riddles three giants, and they were always murdering and slaying some of the knight's people, and taking spoil from them. on a day of days the knight of riddles said to his son-in-law, that if the spirit of a man were in him, he would go to kill the giants, as they were always bringing such losses on the country. well, so it was, he went and he met the giants, and he came home with the three giants' heads, and he threw them at the knight's feet. "thou art an able lad doubtless, and thy name hereafter is the hero of the white shield." the name of the hero of the white shield went far and near. [illustration] meanwhile the brother of the hero of the white shield had wandered afar in many countries, and after long years had come to the land of the giants where the hero of the white shield was now dwelling, and the knight's daughter with him. his brother came and he asked to make a _covrag_ or fight as a bull with him. the men began at each other, and they took to wrestling from morning till evening. at last and at length, when they were tired, weak, and spent, the hero of the white shield jumped over a great rampart, and he asked the stranger to meet him in the morning. this leap put the other to shame, and he said to him, "well may it be that thou wilt not be so supple about this time to-morrow." the young brother now went to a poor little bothy that was near to the house of the hero of the white shield, tired and drowsy, and in the morning they dared the fight again. and the hero of the white shield began to go back, till he went backwards into a river. "there must be some of my blood in thee before that was done to me." "of what blood art thou?" said the youngest. "'tis i am son of ardan, great king of the albann." "'tis i am thy brother." it was now they knew each other. they gave luck and welcome to each other, and the hero of the white shield now took him into the palace, and she it was that was pleased to see him--the knight's daughter. he stayed a while with them, and after that he thought that he would go home to his own kingdom; and when he was going past a great palace that was there he saw twelve men playing at shinny over against the palace. he thought he would go for a while and play shinny with them; but they were not long playing shinny when they fell out, and the weakest of them caught him and shook him as he would a child. he thought it was no use for him to lift a hand amongst these twelve worthies, and he asked them to whom they were sons. they said they were children of the one father, the brother of the hero of the white shield, who had not been heard of for many years. "i am your father," said he; and he asked them if their mother was alive. they said that she was. he went with them till he found the mother, and he took her home with him and the twelve sons; and i don't know but that his seed are kings on alba till this very day. the tail. [illustration: t] there was a shepherd once who went out to the hill to look after his sheep. it was misty and cold, and he had much trouble to find them. at last he had them all but one; and after much searching he found that one too in a peat hag, half drowned; so he took off his plaid, and bent down and took hold of the sheep's tail, and he pulled! the sheep was heavy with water, and he could not lift her, so he took off his coat and he _pulled!!_ but it was too much for him, so he spit on his hands, and took a good hold of the tail and he pulled!! and the tail broke! and if it had not been for that this tale would have been a great deal longer. [illustration] [illustration: man or woman boy or girl that reads what follows times shall fall asleep an hundred years john d. batten drew this: aug. th, good-night] notes and references. i have scarcely anything to add to the general account of the collection of celtic fairy tales which i gave in the predecessor to this volume, pages - . since the appearance of that volume in , the publication of such tales has gone on apace. mr. curtin has published in the new york _sun_ no less than fifty more irish fairy tales, one of which he has been good enough to place at my disposal for the present volume. mr. larminie has published with mr. e. stock a volume of _west irish fairy tales_, of which i have also the privilege of presenting a specimen. a slight volume of welsh fairy tales, published by mr. nutt, and a few fairy anecdotes contained in the prize essay on welsh folk-lore by the rev. mr. evans, sum up cambria's contribution to our subject during the past three years. the fifth volume of the _waifs and strays of celtic tradition_, just about to appear at the moment of writing, is the sole addition to celtic fairy tales from the country of j. f. campbell. taken altogether, something like a hundred previously unpublished tales from celtdom have been rendered accessible to the world since i last wrote, a by no means insignificant outcome in three years. it is at any rate clear, that the only considerable addition to our folk-lore knowledge in these isles must come from the gaelic area. the time of harvest can be but short; may the workers be many, willing, and capable. xxvii. the fate of the children of lir. _sources._--abridged from the text and translation published by the society for the preservation of the irish language in . this merely follows the text and version given by professor o'curry in _atlantis_, iv. he used three dublin mss., none of them, however, of earlier date than the eighteenth century. dr. joyce gives a free paraphrase in his _old celtic romances_. _parallels._--for "jealous stepmother," see the bibliographical references in the list of incidents at the end of my paper on the "science of folk-tales" in the _transactions of the folk-lore congress_, _sub voce_. add miss roalfe cox in _folk-lore journal_, vii. app. ; also the same list _sub voce_ "swan maiden transformation." in modern irish literature griffin has included the tale in his _tales of the jury-room_, and tom moore's "song of fiounala" beginning "silent, o moyle" is founded upon it. _remarks._--the "fate of the children of lir" is always referred to along with "the story of deirdre" (_cf._ the _celtic fairy tales_, ix.), and the "children of tuireann" as one of the three sorrowful tales of erin. but there is no evidence of equal antiquity to the other two stories, of which one is as old as the eleventh century. from the interspersed verse o'curry concluded, however, that the story was at least of considerable antiquity, and the references to the unknown saint mochaomhog confirm his impression. the hill of the white field is near newton hannton, in the county of armagh. the lake of the red eye is lough derg, in the shannon above killaloe. fingula is fair shoulder. the tradition that swans are inviolable is still extant in ireland. a man named connor griffin killed eleven swans: he had previously been a prosperous man, and shortly afterwards his son was drowned in the shannon, his goods were lost, and his wife died (_children of lir_, dublin edit., note, p. ). in county mayo it is believed that the souls of pure virgins are after death enshrined in the forms of swans; if anybody injures them, it is thought he will die within a year (walter's _natural history of the birds of ireland_, pp. - ). mr. gomme concludes from this that the swan was at one time a british totem (_arch. rev._, iii. - ). at first sight the tale seems little more than an argument against the bill for marriage with a deceased wife's sister, but the plaintive lays of fingula, the touching detail of the swans flying over the desolate hill and white field, give a touch of celtic glamour to the whole story. there is probably also a deep religious significance implied in the fact that the wicked aunt stepmother's spell is broken when the transformed children of lir come across the first christian they meet. mr. nutt has kindly communicated the following remarks on this tale:-- the fate of the children of lir belongs formally to the so-called mythological cycle, the personages of which are the tuatha de danann. the irish annalists of the th- th centuries described these as members of one of the races which possessed ireland in pre-christian times before the coming of the milesians. but even in the most strongly euhemerised accounts the mythic nature of these beings is apparent, and most modern scholars are agreed that they are in fact the members of a pagan irish pantheon. they live on to this very day in irish folk-belief as chiefs and rulers of the fairies. the ms. evidence for some of the stories concerning the tuatha de danann is as old as that for the oldest heroic cycle (the ultonian of conchobar and cuchulainn). but the tuatha de danann legends have retained throughout irish literature greater plasticity and vitality than those of the ultonian cycle, and many stories are not older in their present state than the th and th centuries. this is probably the case with the present story. the oldest known ms. only goes back to , but this and the ms. of , used by o'curry for his edition, are certainly copied from much older mss. the interesting question for storiologists is whether the themes of the story--the swan-metamorphosis consequent upon the stepmother's jealousy, and the protecting rôle assigned to the sister--are of old native or of recent imported nature. in support of the first hypothesis, it may be noted that the theme of stepmotherly jealousy was current in ireland in the th century at the latest, as it is woven into the saga of the destruction of daderga's fort (see my article "_folk-lore_," ii.). the final episode of the sudden aging of the miraculously long-lived swans is also genuinely irish, but its true significance is obscured in our story in a way that sufficiently demonstrates the late and secondary character of the text. the idea is that the dwellers in faery, whether fairy-folk or mortals penetrating thither, enjoy perpetual life, forfeited by the latter the moment they return to this earth. as children of the tuatha de danann, fionngula and her brothers are deathless, and the episode as it stands in our text results from a contamination of the original form of the story in which the swan-metamorphosis was annulled under certain conditions (the removal of the chains), when the original shape was resumed, and the familiar story of the mortal returning from faery after hundreds of years, which he deems to be but a short space of time, shrinking into dust the moment he touches earth. there is a well-known continental folk-tale--the "seven swans" (or ravens)--of which we possess several mediæval ( th to th century) versions, all connected with the romance of the "swan knight." m. gaston paris has studied the whole story group (_romania_, xix. , &c.) with the following results: the folk-tale of the seven swans had originally nothing to do with the saga of the swan-knight. the connection apparent in the th century texts is artificial; the swans owe their shape-shifting capacity to the superhuman nature of their mother; this trait has been almost effaced even in the oldest versions. the distinguishing mark of the swans in all the versions is the possession of silver or gold chains, which are what may be called metamorphosis tokens; it follows from this that the contamination of the two story-types ("seven swans" and "swan knight") must be older than the oldest version of the first story, as these chains can only be derived from the one with which in the swan knight saga the swan draws the knight back. in _romania_ (xxi. , _seq._) m. ferd. lot examines the question in the light of our tale. he points out that it indicates clearly the superhuman nature of the mother, and that as the silver chains figure in the story, they cannot be due in the continental versions to contamination with the swan knight saga, as m. gaston paris imagines. m. lot evidently inclines to look upon them as talismans, the abandonment of which was the original cause of the metamorphosis, and the handling of which at the end brings about the change back to human shape. he points out that these chains form an essential part of the gear of beings appearing in bird guise (especially if they belong to faery); thus in the th-century "sickbed of cuchulainn" the goddesses fand and liban appear as two swans united by a golden chain; in the th to th century conception of cuchulainn, dechtire, the mother of the hero by the god lug, appears with her companions in the guise of many-hued birds linked together by chains of silver (or red gold in one version). the ms. evidence for these tales reaches back to the early th century. curiously enough, m. lot has not cited the closest parallel to our tale from old irish literature, and one which is certainly connected with it in some measure, the fine story called the "dream of angus." a story of this title is cited in the epic catalogue of the book of leinster (which dates back to the early th century) as one of the introductory stories to the tain bo cuailgne. this assumed its present shape substantially between and . the introductory stories had originally no connection with it, and were invented or re-shaped in the th to th centuries, after the tain had taken undisputed place as the leading irish epic. the tale may therefore be ascribed provisionally to the th century, if we can only be sure that the existing version, preserved in a single ms. of the th century, is a faithful copy of the original. there need be no doubt as to this. the text is due to a christian scribe, and, like nearly all portions of the mythological cycle, betrays signs of christian influence, though not of christian remodelling. such influence is, however, far more likely to have exerted itself in the first stage of the written existence of these tales, when the memory of organised paganism was still tenacious, than later, when the tales had become subject-matter for the play of free poetic fancy. the story, printed and translated by dr. e. muller, _rev. celt._, iv. , &c., is as follows: angus (the chief wizard of the tuatha de danann) is visited in sleep by a maiden whose beauty throws him into love sickness. the whole of ireland is scoured to find her; the dagda is appealed to in vain. at length, bodb, fairy king of munster, finds her at loch bel dracon (this is not the only trace of the impression which the story of bel and the dragon made upon the irish mind). she lives there with swans; one year they are in swan shape the next in human shape. they appear as white birds with silvery chains and golden caps around their heads. angus changes himself into a swan to be with her, and it is recorded of the music they made that "people fell asleep for three days and three nights." the soporific power of music is that which is chiefly commended in old irish literature. i think it is obvious that the writer of our story was familiar with this and other legends in which swan-maids encircled with gold and silver chains appear, and that we may fairly draw the following conclusions from the preceding facts: there existed an irish folk-tale of a king with two wives, one a water or sea fairy, whose children derive from her the capacity of shape-shifting dependent upon certain talismans; jealousy impels the human wife to tamper with these talismans, and the children are condemned to remain in their animal form. this folk-tale was, probably at some time in the th or th century, arbitrarily fitted into the _cadre_ of the tuatha de danann cycle, and entirely re-fashioned in a spirit of pious edification by a man who was in his way a great and admirable artist. the origin and nature of the story, all the elements of which are genuinely national, assured for it wide and lasting popularity. the evolution of the irish folk-tale is in no way dependent upon that of the continental folk-tale of the seven swans, but it is possible that the celtic presentiment of the chain-girdled swans may have influenced it as well as the swan knight romance. xxviii. jack the cunning thief. _sources._--kennedy, _stories of ireland_, pp. - ; campbell, _west highland tales_, i. _seq._; "the shifty lad," dasent, _popular tales from the norse_, pp. - , "master thief." köhler has a number of variants in his notes on campbell: _orient und occident_, band ii. mr. clouston has a monograph on the subject in his _popular tales_, ii. - . a separate treatise on the subject has been given by s. prato, , _la leggenda di rhampsinite_. both these writers connect the modern folk-tales with herodotus' story of king rampsinites. mr. knowles in his _folk-tales of kashmir_, has a number of adventures of "sharaf the thief." the story of "master thief" has been heard among the tramps in london workhouses (mayhew, _london labour and london poor_, iii. ). _remarks._--thievery is universally human, and at first sight it might seem that there was no connection between these various versions of the "master thief." but the identity of the tricks by which the popular hero-thief gains his ends renders it impossible that they should have been independently invented wherever they are found. xxix. powel, prince of dyfed. _source._--lady guest's _mabinogion_, with the names slightly anglicised, and omitting the opening incident. _parallels._--for the incident of tearing off the hands, _cf._ morraha; the enchanted hill and maiden occur at the beginning of "tuairisgeul môr" in _scottish celtic review_, i. , and are fully commented upon by mr. nutt, _l.c._ . xxx. paddy o'kelly and the weasel. _sources._--hyde, _beside the fire_, pp. - . _parallels._--on green hills as the homes of the fairies: see note on "childe roland," _english fairy tales_, p. . the transformation of witches into hares is a frequent _motif_ in folk-lore. xxxi. the black horse. _sources._--from j. f. campbell's manuscript collection now deposited at the advocates' library in edinburgh (ms. , vol. xi.). collected in gaelic, february , , by hector maclean, from roderick macneill, in the island of menglay: macneill learnt the story about from a barra man. i have omitted one visit of the black horse to greece, but otherwise left the tale untouched. mr. nutt gave a short abstract of the story in his report on the campbell mss. in _folk-lore_, i. . _parallels._--campbell gives the following parallels in his notes on the tale, which i quote verbatim. on the throwing into the well he remarks: "so this incident of 'lady audley's secret' was in the mind of a barra peasant about . part of a modern novel may be as old as aryan mythology, which was one point to be proved." [the incident of throwing into the well almost invariably forms a part of the tales of the white cat type.] with regard to the black horse, campbell notes that a gaelic riddle makes a black horse identical with the west wind, and adds: "it is for consideration whether this horse throws light on the sacred wheel in indian sculptures; it is to be noted that a black horse is the sacrificial colour." "the cup is a well-known myth about winning a fairy cup which pervades scandinavian england in many forms." "a silver ring, two quaint serpents' heads pointing opposite ways, is a common scandinavian wedding-ring; many were to be got in barra and elsewhere in , sold by emigrants bound for america." "those who can account for myths must settle the geography of the snow mountain. avalanches and glaciers are in iceland, in the caucasus, and in central asia. there are none within sight of menglay. hindoo cosmogony, which makes the world consist of seven rings, separated by seas and by a wall of mountains, may account for this in some sort." on the spikes driven into the horse, campbell compares the norse story of "dapple-grim" and the horse sacrifice of the mahabharata. on the building of the magic castle, campbell remarks: "twashtri was the carpenter of the vedic gods: can this be his work?" on the horse's head being struck off campbell comments: "this was the last act in the aryan horse's sacrifice, and the first step in the horse apotheosis." _remarks._--campbell has the following note at the end of the tale, from which it would seem that in at least he was very nearly being an _indiamaniac_. "so ends this horse-riding story. taking it as it is, with the test of language added, nothing short of an asian origin will account for it. a gaelic riddle makes 'a black horse' mean the invisible wind, and a theorist might suppose this horse to be the air personified. as greece is mentioned, he might be pegasus, who had to do with wells. but he had wings, and he was white, and there is nothing in classical fable like this atlantic myth. 'the enchanted horse' of arabian nights was a flying machine, and his adventures are quite different. this is not the horse of chaucer's squire's tale. he is more like 'hrimfaxi,' the horse of the edda, who drew the car of nött in heaven, and was ridden round the earth in twelve hours, followed by dagr and his glittering horse skinfaxi. the black horse who always arrives at sunrise is like the horse of night, but there is no equivalent story in the edda. 'dapple-grim' in norse tales is clad in a spiked bull's hide, and is mixed up with a blazing tar-barrel, but his adventures won't fit, and he was grey. "the story is but an imperfect skeleton. the cup was to give strength; he had to open seven gates after he got the cup, but it does nothing. the hood is to hide with; he went in and out of the palace unseen after he had got the hood, but it plays no part. the light shoes were the shoes of swiftness of course, but they never showed their paces. baldr's horse was led to the funeral pile with all his gear; and odin laid the gold ring draupnir on the pile. such rites might account for the ring in the blazing lake. hermothr's ride northwards and downwards to the abode of hel to seek baldr, his leap over the grate, and his return with the ring (edda ), might account for one adventure. "the many-coloured horses of the sun in the indian mythology and solar myths may account for all these horses, astronomically or meteorologically. the old aryan aswa medha or sacrifice of a black horse, and the twelve adventures of arjuna as told in the mahabharata, are something like this story in some general vague way. but the simplest explanation of this menglay myth, fished out of the atlantic, is to admit that 'the black horse' and all this mythical breed came west with men who rode from the land where horses were tamed, which is unknown." xxxii. the vision of macconglinney. _source._--kindly condensed by mr. alfred nutt from prof. meyer's edition of _the vision_ published in book form in . this contains two versions, a longer one from a fourteenth century ms., _leabhar breac or speckled book_, and a shorter one from a sixteenth century ms. in the library of trinity college, dublin. a translation of the former version was given by the late w. m. hennessy in _fraser's magazine_, september, . prof. wollner, who contributed to prof. meyer's edition an introduction dealing with the story from the standpoint of comparative literature, considers that the later version reproduces the original common source more nearly. _parallels._--at first sight _the vision_ seems to picture the land of cockayne (on which see poeschel, _das mährchen vom schlaraffenlande_, halle, ), but as prof. wollner remarks, the irish form is much more simple and primitive, and represents rather an agricultural conception of a past _aurea aetas_. the conception of enormous appetite being due to the presence of a voracious animal or demon within the body is widespread among the folk. prof. wollner gives numerous parallels, _l.c._ xlvii.-liii. the common expression "to wolf one's food" is said to be derived from this conception. on the personification of disease, see tylor, _primitive culture_, ii. . i can myself remember a tale somewhat similar to _the vision_ which i heard from my nurse in australia, i fancy as a warning against gluttony. she told me of a man, who in swallowing large pieces of food had swallowed a little hairy monster, which grew and grew and grew and caused the man to be eating all day to satisfy his visitors. he was cured by being made to fast, and then a bowl of brandy was brought in front of his mouth into which the hairy thing, attracted by the fumes, jumped and was drowned. _remarks._--we have here an interesting example of the personification of disease in the form of a demon, of which some examples occur in the gospels. the rollicking rabelaisian tone in which the story is told prevents us, however, from attributing any serious belief in the conception by the irish monk the author of the tale, who was parodying, according to prof. wollner, the visions of the saints. still he would be scarcely likely to use the conception, even for purposes of parody, unless it were current among the folk, and it occurs among them even at the present day. (see hyde, _beside the fire_, p. .) xxxiii. dream of owen o'mulready. _sources._--kindly translated by mr. leland l. duncan from _gaelic journal_, vol. iv. p. _seq._ _parallels._--croker's _daniel o'rourke_ may be compared in part. _remarks._--at first sight a mere droll, the story has its roots in the most primitive philosophy. owen's problem is to get in the land of dreams. now dreamland, so all our students of mythology are agreed, is the source and origin of our belief in souls and spirits. owen's problem therefore resolves itself into this: where was he to go in order to come into closest contact with the world of spirits. mark what he does--he clears the hearth and has his bed made in it. now it is round the hearth that the fullest associations with the spirit life are clustered. the late m. fustel de coulanges in his _cité antique_ traces back most of the greek and roman religions and a large number of their institutions to the worship of the ancestors localised on the hearth. the late professor hearn extended his line of research to the whole of the aryans in his _aryan household_. it will thus be seen from this course of reasoning, that owen was acting on the most approved primitive principles in adopting this curious method of obtaining dreams. the story is not known elsewhere than in ireland, and we are therefore at liberty to apply the method of survivals to this case. xxxiv. morraha. _sources._--the second story in mr. w. larminie's _west irish folk-tales_, pp. - . the framework was collected from p. mcgrale of achill island, co. mayo. the story itself was from terence davis of rendyle, co. galway. there is evidently confusion in the introductory portion between niall's mother and wife. _parallels._--campbell's no. has a very close parallel to the opening. mr. larminie refers to a similar tale collected by kennedy. another version from west munster has been recently published in the _gaelic journal_, iv. , , . the evasion of the promise to give up the sword at the end seems a favourite incident in achill folk-tales; it occurs in two others of mr. larminie's stories. on the framework, see note on "conal yellow claw" (_celtic folk-tales_, v.). i have there suggested that the plan comes from the east, ultimately from buddha. xxxv. the story of the mcandrew family. _sources._--supplied by mrs. gale, now in the united states, from the recitation of her mother who left ireland over fifty years ago. _parallels._--"noodle tales" like this are found everywhere in europe, and have been discussed by mr. clouston in a special monograph in _the book of noodles_, . the "sell" at the end is similar to that in the "wise men of gotham." kennedy (_fireside stories of ireland_) gives a similar set of adventures, p. _seq._ _remarks._--mrs. gale remarks that it was a common superstition in ireland, that if a raven hovered over the head of cattle, a withering blight had been set upon the animals. as birds of carrion they were supposed to be waiting for the carcases. xxxvi. the farmer of liddesdale. _sources._--macdougal, _waifs and strays_, iii. ix. pp. - . _parallels._--campbell, _west highland tales_, "the master and the man," iii. - . _remarks._--i need scarcely suggest the identification of the ploughman with the----. as usual in folk-tales, that personage does not get the best of the bargain. the rustic faust evades his contract by a direct appeal to the higher powers. this is probably characteristic of scotch piety. xxxvii. the greek princess and the young gardener. _sources._--kennedy, _fireside stories_, pp. - . _parallels._--campbell, _west highland tales_, lvi.; _mac iain direach_, ii. - . he gives other variants at the end. the story is clearly that of the grimms' "golden bird," no. . they give various parallels in their notes. mrs. hunt refers to an eskimo version in rae's _white sea peninsula_, called "kuobba the giant and the devil." but the most curious and instructive parallel is that afforded by the arthurian romance of walewein (_i.e._, gawain), now only extant in dutch, which, as professor w. p. ker has pointed out in _folk-lore_, v. , exactly corresponds to the popular tale, and thus carries it back in celtdom to the early twelfth century at the latest. xxxviii. the russet dog. _source._--i have made up this celtic reynard out of several fables given by campbell, _west highland tales_, under the title "fables," vol. i. pp. _seq._; and "the keg of butter" and the "the fox and the little bonnach," vol. iii. nos. lxv. lxvi. _parallels._--the fox's ruse about a truce among the animals is a well-known Æsop's fable; see my edition of _caxton's Æsop_, vol. ii. p. , and _parallels_, vol. i. p. . the trick by which the cock gets out of the fox's mouth is a part of the reynard cycle, and is given by chaucer as his "nonne preste's tale." how the wolf lost his tail is also part of the same cycle, the parallels of which are given by k. krohn, _bär_ (_wolf_) _und fuchs_ (helsingfors, ), pp. - . the same writer has studied the geographical distribution of the story in finland, accompanied by a map, in _fennia_, iv. no. . i have given a mediæval hebrew version in my _jews of angevin england_, pp. - . see also gerber, _great russian animal tales_, pp. - . the wolf was originally the bear, as we see from the conclusion of the incident, which professes to explain why the wolf is stumpy-tailed. "the keg of butter" combines two of the grimm stories, , . "the little bonnach" occurs also in english and has been given in two variants in _english fairy tales_, no. xxviii.; and _more english fairy tales_, no. lvii. _remarks._--it would lead me too far afield to discuss here the sources of reynard the fox, with which i hope shortly to deal at length elsewhere. but i would remark that in this case, as in several others we have observed, the stories, which are certainly reproductions, have received the characteristic celtic dress. it follows that we cannot conclude anything as to the origin of a tale from the fact that it is told idiomatically. on the other hand, the stories of "the fox and wrens" and "the fox and the todhunter," and "how the fox gets rid of his fleas," have no parallels elsewhere, and show the possibility of a native beast tale or cycle of tales. xxxix. smallhead and the king's son. _source._--mr. curtin's "hero tales of ireland," contributed to the _new york sun_. _parallels._--campbell's no. xvii., "maol a chliobain," is the same story, which is also found among the lowlanders, and is given in my _english fairy tales_, no. xxii., "molly whuppie," where see notes for other parallels of the hop o' my thumb type of story. king under the waves occurs in campbell, no. lxxxvi. xl. the legend of knockgrafton. _source._--croker, _fairy legends of south of ireland_. _parallels._--parnell's poem, _edwin and sir topaz_, contains the same story. as he was born in dublin, , this traces the tale back at least years in ireland. practically the same story, however, has been found in japan, and translated into english under the title, "kobutori; or, the old man and the devils." in the story published by kobunsha, tokio, the old man has a lump on the side of his face. he sees the demons dancing, and getting exhilarated, joins in. thereupon the devils are so delighted that they wish to see him again, and as a pledge of his return take away from him his lump. another old man, who has a similar lump on the other side of his face, hearing of this, tries the same plan, but dances so badly that the devils, not wishing to see him again, and mistaking him for the other old man, give him back the lump, so that he has one on each side of his face. i may add here that mr. york powell informs me that no. xvii. of the same series, entitled, "shippietaro," contains a parallel to the "hobyahs" of _more english tales_. _remarks._--here we have a problem of diffusion presented in its widest form. there can be little doubt that "the legend of knockgrafton" and "kobutori," one collected in ireland and to be traced there for the last years, and the other collected at the present day in japan, are one and the same story, and it is impossible to imagine they were independently produced. considering that parnell could not have come across the japanese version, we must conclude that "kobutori" is a recent importation into japan. on the other hand, as "the hobyahs" cannot be traced in england, and was collected from a scottish family settled in the united states, where japanese influence has been considerable, it is possible that this tale was derived from japan within the memory of men still living. it would be highly desirable to test these two cases, in which we seem to be able to observe the process of the diffusion of folk tales going on before our eyes. xli. elidore. _source._--giraldus cambrensis, _itinerarium cambriæ_, i. viii. i have followed the latin text tolerably closely. _parallels._--mr. hartland has a paper on "robberies in fairyland," in _arch. rev._, iii. _seq._ davies, _mythology of the british druids_, p. , tells a story of a door in a rock near a cave in the mountains of brecknock, which was left open for mayday, and men used to enter, and so reach that fairy island in the middle of the lake. the visitors were treated very hospitably by their fairy hosts, but on the condition that they might eat all, but pocket none; for once, a visitor took away with him a fairy flower, and as soon as he got outside the door the flower vanished, and the door was never more opened. "the luck of edenhall," still in existence, is supposed to be a trophy brought back from a similar visit. _remarks._--mr. hartland suggests that these legends, and the relics connected with them, are in some way connected with the heathen rites prevalent in these islands before the introduction of christianity, which may have lingered on into historic times. the absence of sunlight in this account of the house of the fairies, as in "childe rowland" (on which see note in _english fairy tales_), may be regarded as a point in favour of mr. macritchie's theories as to the identification of the fairies with the mound-dwellers. the object of the expectoration was to prevent elidore's seeing his way back. thus the fairies prevent the indiscretions of the human midwives they employ. xlii. the leeching of kayn's leg. _source._--macinnes, _folk-tales from argyleshire_, vii., combined with campbell of tiree's version. _parallels._--the earliest version, from an egerton ms. of the fifteenth century, has been printed by mr. s. h. o'grady in his _silva gadelica_, no. , with an english version, pp. - . mr. campbell of tiree has given a short gaelic version in the _transactions of the gaelic society of inverness_, - . campbell of islay collected the fullest version of this celebrated story, which is to be found among his manuscript remains now in edinburgh. mr. nutt has given his english abstract in _folk-lore_, i. - , in its original form. the story must have contained twenty-four tales or episodes of stories, nineteen of which are preserved in j. f. campbell's version. for parallels to the various incidents, see mr. nutt's notes on macinnes, pp. - . the tale is referred to in macnicol, _remarks on dr. johnson's journey to the hebrides_, . _remarks._--nothing could give a more vivid idea of what might be called the organisation of the art of story-telling among the celts than this elaborate tale. mr. nutt is inclined to trace it, even in its present form, back to the twelfth or thirteenth century. it occurs in an ms. of the fifteenth century in an obviously unoriginal form which shows that the story-teller did not appreciate the significance of many features in the folk-tale he was retelling, and yet it was orally collected by the great campbell in , in a version which runs to folio pages. formally, its interest consists in large measure in the curious framework in which the subsidiary stories are imbedded. this is not of the elaborate kind introduced into europe from the east by the crusades, but more _naive_, resembling rather, as mr. nutt points out to me, the loosely-knit narratives of charles lever in his earlier manner. xliii. how fin went to the kingdom of the big men. _source._--j. g. campbell, _the fians_ (_waifs and strays_, no. iv.), pp. - . _parallels._--_the voyage to brobdingnag_ will occur to many readers, and it is by no means impossible that, as swift was once an irish lad, _the voyage_ may have been suggested by some such tale told him in his infancy. it is not, however, a part of the earlier recorded ossianic cycle, though over-sea giants occur as opponents of the heroes in that as well as in the earlier ultonian cycle. xliv. how cormac mac art went to faery. _source._--kindly condensed by mr. alfred nutt from an english version by mr. s. h. o'grady in _ossianic society's publications_, vol. iii. the oldest known version has been printed from fourteenth century mss., by mr. whitley stokes, _irische texte_, iii. i. the story existed in some form in the early eleventh century, as it is cited in the epic catalogue contained in the book of leinster. _parallels._--mr. nutt in his _studies on the legend of the holy grail_, p. , connects this visit of cormac to the otherworld with the bespelled castle incident in the grail legend, and gives other instances of visits to the brug of manannan. manannan mac lir is the celtic sea-god. xlv. ridere of riddles. _source._--campbell, _west highland tales_, no. xxii. vol. ii. p. , _seq._ i have modified the end, which has a polygamous complexion. _parallels._--campbell points out that the story is in the main identical with the grimms' "räthsel," no. xxii. there the riddle is: "one slew none, and yet slew twelve." macdougall has the same story in _waifs and strays_, iii. pp. _seq._ _remarks._--there can be no doubt that the celtic and german riddle stories are related genealogically. which is of the earlier generation is, however, more difficult to determine. in favour of the celtic is the polygamous framework; while on the other hand, it is difficult to guess how the story could have got from the highlands to germany. the simpler form of the riddle in the german version might seem to argue greater antiquity. xlvi. the tail. _source._--campbell, no. lvii. _parallels._--most story-tellers have some formula of this kind to conclude their narrations. prof. crane gives some examples in his _italian popular tales_, pp. - . the english have: "i'll tell you a story of jack a nory," and "the three wise men of gotham" who went to sea in a bowl: "if the bowl had been stronger, my song would have been longer." _printed by_ ballantyne, hanson & co. _london and edinburgh_ _by the same author._ =english fairy tales.= collected by joseph jacobs. illustrated by j. d. batten. small demy vo, pp. xvi- , full-page and smaller illustrations, fancy cloth, price s. this new and charmingly illustrated volume.--_daily telegraph_ (leader). as a collection of fairy tales to delight children of all ages ranks second to none.--_daily graphic_ (with illustrations). a delight alike to the young people and their elders.--_globe._ prettily and brightly adapted.--_star._ a most delightful volume of fairy tales.--_england._ a number of charming english fairy tales.--_speaker._ mr. jacobs may be congratulated alike on the matter and form of his book.--_manchester guardian._ a more desirable child's book ... has not been seen for many a day.--_daily news_ (leader). from first to last, almost without exception, these stories are delightful.--_athenæum._ the most delightful book of fairy tales, taking form and contents together, ever presented to children.--e. s. hartland, in _folk-lore_. the whole collection is dramatic and humorous.... this delightful book....--miss thackeray, in _atalanta_ (with illustrations). a gift-book that will charm any child, and all older folk who have been fortunate enough to retain their taste for the old nursery stories.--_literary world._ a dainty and an interesting volume.--_notes and queries._ if we were asked what present would make a child happiest at christmastide we think we could with a clear conscience point to mr. jacobs' book.--_gloucester journal._ the most delightful book of its kind that has come in our way for many a day.--_oban times._ brimful of pretty stories.... retold in a truly delightful manner.--_north-western gazette._ the tales are simply delightful. no amount of description can do them justice. the only way is to read the book through from cover to cover.--_magazine and book review._ the drawings by mr. batten ... are extremely clever, and are full of humour and imagination.--_leeds mercury._ several charming stories that may be claimed as new acquaintances.... mr. batten's illustrations are excellent.--_the world._ the book is intended to correspond to "grimm's fairy tales," and it must be allowed that its pages fairly rival in interest those of the well-known repository of folk-lore.--_sydney morning herald_ (n.s.w.). nothing could be more fascinating; it is indeed two delicious books rolled into one.--_review of reviews_ (with illustrations). a really valuable and curious selection which will be welcomed by readers of all ages.... the illustrations by mr. batten are often clever and irresistibly humorous.--_times._ =celtic fairy tales.= edited by joseph jacobs, and illustrated by j. d. batten. sm. demy vo, pp. xvi- , with full-page illustrations and numerous vignettes, tail-pieces, initials, &c. s. mr. joseph jacobs' book of "celtic fairy tales" is, like his last year's collection of "english fairy tales," one of the best books of stories ever put together, whether for a young reader or an old.--_scotsman._ the volume is illustrated by mr. john d. batten, whose work merits the very highest praise. the humorous sketches are admirable.--_glasgow herald._ humour and seriousness are delightfully mingled in these tales from many sources.--_leeds mercury._ an admirable selection of celtic fairy tales, edited with considerable erudition. the illustrations are graceful and suggestive.--_freeman's journal._ delightful stories, exquisite illustrations by john d. batten, and learned notes.--_ariel._ mr. batten's illustrations are quite charming. neither tenniel nor c. h. bennett have done anything better.--_bookseller._ this is not the first volume of exquisite fairy tales which mr. jacobs has given the young ones.--_newcastle daily chronicle._ a stock of delightful little narratives gathered chiefly from the celtic-speaking peasants of ireland.--_daily telegraph._ a charming volume, skilfully illustrated.--_daily chronicle._ a perfectly lovely book. and oh! the wonderful pictures inside. get this book if you can; it is capital, all through.--_pall mall budget._ =indian fairy tales.= edited by joseph jacobs, and illustrated by j. d. batten. sm. demy vo, pp. xvi- , with full-page and numerous vignettes, tail-pieces, initials, &c. the book is good both for the schoolroom and the study.--_daily news_ (leader). mr. jacobs' ably edited "indian fairy tales" is a bright example of almost all that a fairy-book should he.--_daily chronicle._ if i were asked to select a child's library i should name these three volumes ['english,' 'celtic,' and 'indian fairy tales'], with grimm, hans andersen, and one or two good volumes of poetry.--_irish daily independent._ we are absolutely sure (which we scarcely ever are) that this book is a most pleasing volume.--_saturday review._ the form in which they are presented is admirable, and nothing could be better in their way than mr. batten's designs to illustrate them.--_north british daily mail._ mr. jacobs brings home to us in a clear and intelligible manner the enormous influence which indian fairy tales have had upon european literature of the kind.--_gloucester journal._ mr. jacobs is a delightful companion into a land of enchantment, and his successive books are treasures.--_notes and queries._ the present combination will be welcomed not alone by the little ones for whom it is specially combined, but also by children of larger growth and added years.--_daily telegraph._ * * * * * transcriber's notes: minor punctuation errors have been corrected without comment and include missing or end of sentence comma and period errors and missing or misplaced quotation marks. characters in bold gothic font, in the celtic language, with a single overdot accent have been converted to their sound (ex. th, gh, dh, bh, fh). in all references to the "king of moroco", the center "o" was accented with a macron (ex. mor[=o]cos), which has been converted to a plain "o". in the date reference of the final illustration the "th" in th was superscripted in the original text. spelling corrections: p. , "yon" to "you" (a gentleman such as you) p. , "pwyll" to "powel" (he returned to powel) p. , "tiernyon" ( ) to "teirnyon" ( ) (... said his wife unto teirnyon) and (... said teirnyon) p. "daugher" to "daughter" ( ) (let my daughter go) p. , "hegoes" to "he goes" (and down he goes to) p. , "ill" to "i'll" (i'll try that upon thee) p. , "daughers" to "daughters" ( ) ("oh," said the daughters) p. , "bo" to "book" (get this book if you can;) printer error corrections: p. , closed-up blank space in unindented sentences between (... rome to rome to-morrow.) and (unless you deceive me ...), and removed extra opening quotation mark. word variations retained: "bagpipes" ( ) and "bag-pipes" ( ) "lapdog" ( ) and "lap-dog" ( ) "macdougal" ( ) and "macdougall" ( ) (re: waifs and strays) "pishrogue" ( ) and "pishtrogue" ( ) (a fairy spell to distort reality?) "west irish folk-tales" ( ) and "west irish folk-tales" ( ) "tablecloth" ( ) and "table-cloth" ( ) (p. - )