Welsh Folklore and Fairytales
In all Britain to-day, no wolf roams wild and the deer are all tame.
Yet in the early ages, when human beings had not yet come into the
land, the swamps and forests were full of very savage animals. There
were bears and wolves by the thousand besides lions and the woolly
rhinoceros, tigers, with terrible teeth like sabres.
Beavers built their dams over the little rivers, and the great horned
oxen were very common. Then the mountains were higher, and the woods
denser. Many of the animals lived in caves, and there were billions of
bees and a great many butterflies. In the bogs were ferns of giant
size, amid which terrible monsters hid that were always ready for a
fight or a frolic.
In so beautiful a land, it seemed a pity that there were no men and
women, no boys or girls, and no babies.
Yet the noble race of the Cymry, whom we call the Welsh, were already
in Europe and lived in the summer land in the South. A great
benefactor was born among them, who grew up to be a wonderfully wise
man and taught his people the use of bows and arrows. He made laws, by
which the different tribes stopped their continual fighting and
quarrels, and united for the common good of all. He persuaded them to
take family names. He invented the plow, and showed them how to use
it, making furrows, in which to plant grain.
When the people found that they could get things to eat right out of
the ground, from the seed they had planted, their children were wild
with joy.
No people ever loved babies more than these Cymry folk and it was they
who invented the cradle. This saved the hard-working mothers many a
burden, for each woman had, besides rearing the children, to work for
and wait on her husband.
He was the warrior and hunter, and she did most of the labor, in both
the house and the field. When there were many little brats to look
after, a cradle was a real help to her. In those days, "brat" was the
general name for little folks. There were good laws, about women
especially for their protection. Any rough or brutish fellow was fined
heavily, or publicly punished, for striking one of them.
By and by, this great benefactor encouraged his people to the brave
adventure, and led them, in crossing the sea to Britain. Men had not
yet learned to build boats, with prow or stern, with keels and masts,
or with sails, rudders, or oars, or much less to put engines in their
bowels, or iron chimneys for smoke stacks, by which we see the mighty
ships driven across the ocean without regard to wind or tide.
This great benefactor taught his people to make coracles, and on these
the whole tribe of thousands of Cymric folk crossed over into Britain,
landing in Cornwall. The old name of this shire meant the Horn of
Gallia, or Wallia, as the new land was later named. We think of
Cornwall as the big toe of the Mother Land. These first comers called
it a horn.
It was a funny sight to see these coracles, which they named after
their own round bodies. The men went down to the riverside or the sea
shore, and with their stone hatchets, they chopped down trees. They
cut the reeds and osiers, peeled the willow branches, and wove great
baskets shaped like bowls. In this work, the women helped the men.
The coracle was made strong by a wooden frame fixed inside round the
edge, and by two cross boards, which also served as seats. Then they
turned the wicker frame upside down and stretched the hides of animals
over the whole frame and bottom. With pitch, gum, or grease, they
covered up the cracks or seams. Then they shaped paddles out of wood.
When the coracle floated on the water, the whole family, daddy, mammy,
kiddies, and any old aunts or uncles, or granddaddies, got into it.
They waited for the wind to blow from the south over to the northern
land.
At first the coracle spun round and round, but by and by each daddy
could, by rowing or paddling, make the thing go straight ahead. So
finally all arrived in the land now called Great Britain.
Though sugar was not then known, or for a thousand years later, the
first thing they noticed was the enormous number of bees. When they
searched, they found the rock caves and hollow trees full of honey,
which had accumulated for generations. Every once in a while the
bears, that so like sweet things, found out the hiding place of the
bees, and ate up the honey. The children were very happy in sucking
the honey comb and the mothers made candles out of the beeswax. The
new comers named the country Honey Island.
The brave Cymry men had battles with the darker skinned people who
were already there. When any one, young or old, died, their friends
and relatives sat up all night guarding the body against wild beasts
or savage men. This grew to be a settled custom and such a meeting was
called a "wake." Everyone present did keep awake, and often in a very
lively way.
As the Cymry multiplied, they built many _don_, or towns. All
over the land to-day are names ending in _don_ like London, or
Croydon, showing where these villages were.
But while occupied in things for the body, their great ruler did not
neglect matters of the mind. He found that some of his people had good
voices and loved to sing. Others delighted in making poetry. So he
invented or improved the harp, and fixed the rules of verse and song.
Thus ages before writing was known, the Cymry preserved their history
and handed down what the wise ones taught.
Men might be born, live and die, come and go, like leaves on the
trees, which expand in the springtime and fall in the autumn; but
their songs, and poetry, and noble language never die. Even to-day,
the Cymry love the speech of their fathers almost as well as they love
their native land.
Yet things were not always lovely in Honey Land, or as sweet as sugar.
As the tribes scattered far apart to settle in this or that valley,
some had fish, but no salt, and others had plenty of salt, but no
fish. Some had all the venison and bear meat they wanted, but no
barley or oats. The hill men needed what the men on the seashore could
supply. From their sheep and oxen they got wool and leather, and from
the wild beasts fur to keep warm in winter. So many of them grew
expert in trade. Soon there were among them some very rich men who
were the chiefs of the tribes.
In time, hundreds of others learned how to traffic among the tribes
and swap, or barter their goods, for as yet there were no coins for
money, or bank bills. So they established markets or fairs, to which
the girls and boys liked to go and sell their eggs and chickens, for
when the wolves and foxes were killed off, sheep and geese multiplied.
But what hindered the peace of the land, were the feuds, or quarrels,
because the men of one tribe thought they were braver, or better
looking, than those in the other tribe. The women were very apt to
boast that they wore their clothes--which were made of fox and weasel
skins--more gracefully than those in the tribe next to them.
So there was much snarling and quarreling in Cymric Land. The people
were too much like naughty children, or when kiddies are not taught
good manners, to speak gently and to be kind one to the other.
One of the worst quarrels broke out, because in one tribe there were
too many maidens and not enough young men for husbands. This was bad
for the men, for it spoiled them. They had too many women to wait on
them and they grew to be very selfish.
In what might be the next tribe, the trouble was the other way. There
were too many boys, a surplus of men, and not nearly enough girls to
go round. When any young fellow, moping out his life alone and anxious
for a wife, went a-courting in the next tribe, or in their vale, or on
their hill top, he was usually driven off with stones. Then there was
a quarrel between the two tribes.
Any young girl, who sneaked out at night to meet her young man of
another clan, was, when caught, instantly and severely spanked. Then,
with her best clothes taken off, she had to stand tied to a post in
the market place a whole day. Her hair was pulled down in disorder,
and all the dogs were allowed to bark at her. The girls made fun of
the poor thing, while they all rubbed one forefinger over the other,
pointed at her and cried, "Fie, for shame!" while the boys called her
hard names.
If it were known that the young man who wanted a wife had visited a
girl in the other tribe, his spear and bow and arrows were taken away
from him till the moon was full. The other boys and the girls treated
him roughly and called him hard names, but he dare not defend himself
and had to suffer patiently. This was all because of the feud between
the two tribes.
This went on until the maidens in the valley, who were very many,
while yet lovely and attractive, became very lonely and miserable;
while the young men, all splendid hunters and warriors, multiplied in
the hill country. They were wretched in mind, because not one could
get a wife, for all the maidens in their own tribe were already
engaged, or had been mated.
One day news came to the young men on the hill top, that the valley
men were all off on a hunting expedition. At once, without waiting a
moment, the poor lonely bachelors plucked up courage. Then, armed with
ropes and straps, they marched in a body to the village in the valley
below. There, they seized each man a girl, not waiting for any maid to
comb her hair, or put on a new frock, or pack up her clothes, or carry
any thing out of her home, and made off with her, as fast as one pair
of legs could move with another pair on top.
At first, this looked like rough treatment--for a lovely girl, thus to
be strapped to a brawny big fellow; but after a while, the girls
thought it was great fun to be married and each one to have a man to
caress, and fondle, and scold, and look for, and boss around; for each
wife, inside of her own hut was quite able to rule her husband. Every
one of these new wives was delighted to find a man who cared so much
for her as to come after her, and risk his life to get her, and each
one admired her new, brave husband.
Yet the brides knew too well that their men folks, fathers and
brothers, uncles and cousins, would soon come back to attempt their
recapture.
And this was just what happened. When a runner brought, to the valley
men now far away, the news of the rape of their daughters, the hunters
at once ceased chasing the deer and marched quickly back to get the
girls and make them come home.
The hill men saw the band of hunters coming after their daughters.
They at once took their new wives into a natural rocky fortress, on
the top of a precipice, which overlooked the lake.
This stronghold had only one entrance, a sort of gateway of rocks, in
front of which was a long steep, narrow path. Here the hill men stood,
to resist the attack and hold their prizes.
It was a case of a very few defenders, assaulted by a multitude, and
the battle was long and bloody. The hill men scorned to surrender and
shot their arrows and hurled their javelins with desperate valor. They
battled all day from sunrise until the late afternoon, when shadows
began to lengthen. The stars, one by one came out and both parties,
after setting sentinels, lay down to rest.
In the morning, again, charge after charge was made. Sword beat
against shield and helmet, and clouds of arrows were shot by the
archers, who were well posted in favorable situations, on the rocks.
Long before noon, the field below was dotted and the narrow pass was
choked with dead bodies. In the afternoon, after a short rest and
refreshed with food, the valley men, though finding that only four of
the hill fighters were alive, stood off at a distance and with their
long bows and a shower of arrows left not one to breathe.
Now, thought the victors, we shall get our maidens back again. So,
taking their time to wash off the blood and dust, to bind up their
wounds, and to eat their supper, they thought it would be an easy job
to load up all the girls on their ox-carts and carry them home.
But the valley brides, thus suddenly made widows, were too true to
their brave husbands. So, when they had seen the last of their lovers
quiet in death, they stripped off all their ornaments and fur robes,
until all stood together, each clad in her own innocence, as pure in
their purpose as if they were a company of Druid priestesses.
Then, chanting their death song, they marched in procession to the
tall cliff, that rose sheer out of the water. One by one, each
uttering the name of her beloved, leaped into the waves.
Men at a distance, knowing nothing of the fight, and sailors and
fishermen far off on the water, thought that a flock of white birds
were swooping down from their eyrie, into the sea to get their food
from the fishes. But when none rose up above the waters, they
understood, and later heard the whole story of the valor of the men
and the devotion of the women.
The solemn silence of night soon brooded over the scene.
The men of the valley stayed only long enough to bury their own dead.
Then they marched home and their houses were filled with mourning. Yet
they admired the noble sacrifice of their daughters and were proud of
them. Afterwards they raised stone monuments on the field of
slaughter.
To-day, this water is called the Lake of the Maidens, and the great
stones seen near the beach are the memorials marking the place of the
slain in battle.
During many centuries, the ancient custom of capturing the bride, with
resistance from her male relatives, was vigorously kept up. In the
course of time, however, this was turned into a mimic play, with much
fun and merriment. Yet, the girls appear to like it, and some even
complain if it is not rough enough to seem almost real.