"WHERE THE FAIRIES HIDE."
How now, Spirit, whither wander ye?
Although a belief in "the fairy folk " has long been on the wane amongst the more populous districts of the principality, a strong faith in their existence still lingers along the seashores, and in more retired portions of the southern counties, where almost every romantic spot has its fairy legend.
In Wales we have two sorts of fairies. The "Tylwyth Teg" and the Ellyll, which last is more frequently known as Pwcca. The Tylwyth Teg Answers to the well-known good fairies one reads of as blessing new-born babes and showering gifts upon their adopted children. The Pwcca, upon the other hand, is the very impersonation of mischief, a Welsh Robin Goodfellow, —
That frights the maidens of the villagery;
Skim milk, and sometimes labour in the quern And bootless make the breathless housewife chum; And sometime make the drink to bear no harm, Mislead night wanderers, laughing at their harm: Those that hobgoblin call you, and sweet Puck.
Ever on the watch to work evil or cause trouble, this Ellyll, or Pwcca, has evidently formed the foundation of the famous "Memo Wanderer of the night," whose character Shakespeare has given us in the ' Midsummer Night's Dream." Puck being a very easy corruption of Pwcca, whose love of mischief he makes further allusion to when Jack Falstaff utters his pathetic wish, —
Heaven defend me from the Welsh fairy,
Lest he should transform me into a piece of cheese.
Many stories are told of this same sprite: a portion of the lovely vale of the Clydach in Glamorganshire is known as Cwm Pwcca, the Pwcca' s Valley, and here a curiously misshapen rock was pointed out to me as that to the edge of which a countryman was led by the Welsh Robin Goodfellow, who, personating a little man with a lanthorn, led the unlucky wight a weary dance along the mountain-side, where suddenly catching the sound of rushing waters, he was wary enough to pause; just in the nick of time, it seemed, as the same instant his guide took a flying leap across what proved to be the Vale of the Clydach, and perching himself upon the rocks at the other side, held his lamp up over his hideously deformed body, uttering a mocking laugh.
All mishaps which happen in or about the house are attributed to the malevolence of the Pwcca; if the cows fall ill, or short of milk, if the corn fails, or a child pines away with any malady beyond the skill of the local wise woman, the Pwcca is brought to account. There is one charm against them, and that is to grasp a blade of growing grass: this no fairy, good or bad, has power to break.
The forest of Maes Syward, near Pontyfon, a wild region enough, is rendered still more romantic by being associated with a haunting Pwcca, who inhabited a deep pit, wherein is to be seen an excavated chamber, from which an underground passage is said to lead to a neighbouring ruin. This I suppose was used by the Pwcca, as no one seems to have any traditionary knowledge of an exploration taking place, or wherefore such a passage existed at all. It was the Pwcca's ground, — that was enough: issuing thence, clad in a red coat and cocked hat, he would ride or walk forth, bent upon doing whatsoever of evil or mischief came in his way; and so dreaded was he in the country-side, that no one would approach the forest after dark, except under very extraordinary circumstances.
The popular belief is that these elves possess a regular form of government, with courts and laws; that they quarrel, and go to war, even as earthly beings do; and many spots are pointed out as the sites of regular pitched battles, one especially among the Black Mountains, where a shepherd is said to have been the spectator of a fight so fierce, that lasting _ until sunrise, the early beams, falling upon the broken swords and spears, caused the ground to glisten as if strewn with diamonds.
