XI.
Project Gutenberg EPUB3 edition
Rhys, John, Sir
Mr. Craigfryn Hughes, the author of a Welsh novelette32 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 Pontypriđ, in Glamorganshire. His father was not a believer33 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 1773, 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 Ỻanfabon, 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 1864, 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 1881, 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 Mamau34, 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 Daf35, “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 ỻeuad dlos:
Hapus ydym ni!
Pawb ohonom syđ yn ỻon
Heb un gofid dan ei fron:
Canu, dawnsio, ar y ton36—
Dedwyđ 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 canrifoeđ a aethant heibio, preswyliai amaethwr yn nhyđyn Pantannas, a’r amser hwnnw yr oeđ bendith y mamau yn ymwelwyr aml ag amryw gaeau perthynol iđo ef, a theimlai yntau gryn gasineb yn ei fynwes at yr ‘atras fwstrog, leisiog, a chynỻwynig,’ fel y galwai hwynt, a mynych yr hiraethai am aỻu dyfod o hyd i ryw lwybr er cael eu gwared ođiyno. O’r diweđ hysbyswyd ef gan hen reibwraig, fod y fforđ i gael eu gwared yn đigon hawđ, ac ond iđo ef rođi godro un hwyr a boreu iđi hi, yr hysbysai y fforđ iđo gyrraeđ yr hyn a fawr đymunai. Bođlonođ i’w thelerau a derbyniođ yntau y cyfarwyđyd, yr hyn ydoeđ fel y canlyn:—Ei fod i aredig yr hoỻ gaeau i ba rai yr oeđ eu hoff ymgyrchfan, ac ond iđynt hwy unwaith goỻi y ton glas, y digient, ac na đeuent byth mwy i’w boeni drwy eu hymweliadau a’r ỻe.
Dilynođ yr amaethwr ei chyfarwyđyd i’r ỻythyren, a choronwyd ei waith a ỻwyđiant. Nid oeđ yr un o honynt i’w weled ođeutu y caeau yn awr; ac yn ỻe sain eu caniadau soniarus, a glywid bob amser yn dyrchu o Waen y Rhos, nid oeđ dim ond y distawrwyđ trylwyraf yn teyrnasu o gylch eu hen a’u hoff ymgyrchfan.
Hauođ yr amaethwr wenith, &c., yn y caeau, ac yr oeđ y gwanwyn gwyrđlas wedi gwthio y gauaf ođiar ei seđ, ac ymđangosai y maesyđ yn arđerchog yn eu ỻifrai gwyrđleision a gwanwynol.
Ond un prydnawn, ar ol i’r haul ymgilio i yst feỻoeđ y gorỻewin, tra yr oeđ amaethwr Pantannas yn dychwelyd tua ei gartref cyfarfyđwyd ag ef gan fod bychan ar ffurf dyn, yn gwisgo hugan goch; a phan đaeth gyferbyn ag ef dadweiniođ ei gleđ bychan, gan gyfeirio ei flaen at yr amaethwr, a dywedyd,
Dial a đaw,
Y mae gerỻaw.
Ceisiođ yr amaethwr chwerthin, ond yr oeđ rhywbeth yn edrychiad sarrug a ỻym y gwr bychan ag a barođ iđo deimlo yn hynod o annymunol.
Ychydig o nosweithiau yn điweđarach, pan oeđ y teulu ar ymneiỻduo i’w gorphwysleoeđ, dychrynwyd hwy yn fawr iawn gan drwst, fel pe byđai 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 oeđ yr yd wedi cael ei fedi ac yn barod i gael ei gywain i’r ysgubor, yn sydyn ryw noswaith ỻosgwyd ef fel nad oeđ yr un dywysen na gweỻtyn i’w gael yn un man o’r caeau, ac nis gaỻasai neb fod wedi gosod yr yd ar dan ond Bendith y Mamau.
Fel ag y mae yn naturiol i ni feđwl teimlođ yr amaethwr yn fawr oherwyđ y tro, ac edifarhaođ yn ei galon đarfod iđo erioed wrando a gwneuthur yn ol cyfarwyđyd yr hen reibwraig, ac feỻy đwyn arno đigofaint a chasineb Bendith y Mamau.
Drannoeth i’r noswaith y ỻosgwyd yr yd fel yr oeđ yn arolygu y difrod achoswyd gan y tan, wele’r gwr bychan ag ydoeđ wedi ei gyfarfod ychydig o điwrnodau yn flaenorol yn ei gyfarfod eilwaith a chyda threm herfeiđiol pwyntiođ ei gleđyf ato gan đywedyd,
Nid yw ond dechreu.
Trođ gwyneb yr amaethwr cyn wynned a’r marmor, a safođ gan alw y gwr bychan yn ol, ond bu y còr yn hynod o wydn ac anewyỻysgar i droi ato, ond ar ol hir erfyn arno trođ yn ei ol gan ofyn yn sarrug beth yr oeđ yr amaethwr yn ei geisio, yr hwn a hysbysođ iđo ei fod yn berffaith fođlon i adael y caeau ỻe yr oeđ eu hoff ymgyrchfan i dyfu yn don eilwaith, a rhođi caniatad iđynt i đyfod iđynt pryd y dewisent, ond yn unig iđynt beidio dial eu ỻid yn mheỻach arno ef.
‘Na,’ oeđ yr atebiad penderfynol, ‘y mae gair y brenin wedi ei roi y byđ iđo ymđial arnat hyd eithaf ei aỻu ac nid oes dim un gaỻu ar wyneb y greadigaeth a bair iđo gael ei dynnu yn ol.’
Dechreuođ yr amaethwr wylo ar hyn, ond yn mhen ychydig hysbysođ y gwr bychan y byđai iđo ef siarad a’i bennaeth ar y mater, ac y cawsai efe wybod y canlyniad ond iđo đyfod i’w gyfarfod ef yn y fan honno amser machludiad haul drennyđ.
Ađawođ yr amaethwr đyfod i’w gyfarfod, a phan đaeth yr amser apwyntiedig o amgylch iđo i gyfarfod a’r bychan cafođ ef yno yn ei aros, ac hysbysođ iđo fod y pennaeth wedi ystyried ei gais yn đifrifol, ond gan fod ei air bob amser yn anghyfnewidiol y buasai y dialeđ bygythiedig yn rhwym o gymeryd ỻe ar y teulu, ond ar gyfrif ei edifeirwch ef na chawsai đigwyđ yn ei amser ef nac eiđo ei blant.
Llonyđođ hynny gryn lawer ar feđwl terfysglyd yr amaethwr, a dechreuođ Bendith y Mamau dalu eu hymweliadau a’r ỻe eilwaith a mynych y clywid sain eu cerđoriaeth felusber yn codi o’r caeau amgylchynol yn ystod y nos.
Pasiođ canrif heibio heb i’r dialeđ bygythiedig gael ei gyflawni, ac er fod teulu Pantannas yn cael eu hadgofio yn awr ac eilwaith, y buasai yn sicr o đigwyđ hwyr neu hwyrach, eto wrth hir glywed y waeđ,