British Goblins

Vanishing islands, the glass ship of Merlin and the castle of the Fairy King! Tonight, its all about William Wirt Sikes' 1880 collection, British Goblins.

'The sovereign of the fairies, and their special guardian and protector, was one Gwyn ap Nudd. He was also ruler over the goblin tribe in general. His name often occurs in ancient Welsh poetry. An old bard of the fourteenth century, who, led away by the fairies, rode into a turf bog on a mountain one dark night, called it the fish-pond of Gwyn ap Nudd, a palace for goblins and their tribe.'

Tales From Antiquaria is a podcast dedicated to exploring the legacy of work published regarding folklore and local history during the golden age of antiquarian writing in the nineteenth century.

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Episode written, produced and presented by Eli Lewis-Lycett. All source material taken directly from the stated publication. Main theme music by Humanoid Media. Incidental music from Restum-Anoush. 

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Vanishing Islands, Merlin's ship of glass, and the castle of the fairy king. My name is Eli and this is Tales from Antiquaria British Goblins. The title we're covering tonight is one that has fascinated me for years: British Goblins. Published by Samson Lowe of London in 1880 and a year later in the US, it's a mammoth collection from William Wirt Sykes, the United States Consul for Wales, and indeed its full title is British Goblins, Welsh Folklore, Fairy Mythology, Legends and Traditions. It's a book that I somehow first heard of when I was a child, and the very idea that was a book out there from the past, all about British goblins, just completely enthralled me for years. Even though I had no idea what it was, what it actually read like, what it was even about, it just sounded so magical and a bit scary. So safe to say this is one I've been looking forward to covering for a long time. Now, in actuality, the collection's made up of four sections, each quite wonderfully exhaustive, and so the question of exactly how to cover this work is one I considered more than usual. Now I've been really selective and opted to cover the main introductory pieces for the first two sections, as they contain barrel loads of good stuff as opposed to just plucking out stories here and there. So in this episode, we're going to be going over the realm of the fairy and the spirit world, those first two sections. The other ones, quaint old customs, and one rather wonderfully titled Bells, Wells, Stones and Dragons. We're not going to cover off because they don't really have that stuff in there that we want in relation to our folklore. And I know I say it all the time, but this is one that really is worth seeking out to read from cover to cover if you get the chance, if you get the time. William Wirt Sykes was born in New York in 1836, and by 20 was working as a typesetter and writing too, he published a book of poetry in 1858. During the 1860s he worked on various New York newspapers, but made his way to Europe with his wife and in June 1876 was appointed the US Consul to Wales. It was then that his longtime interest in folklore converged with the locality he was in, and having found it almost impossible to track down a comprehensive work on Welsh law in the bookstores of South Wales, and being of the opinion that American knowledge and appreciation of Wales was far from what it should be, he began a campaign of promotion. First, he wrote a series of articles regarding Wales in American journals, and in 1881 he compiled them and published them as rambles and studies in Old South Wales. Then, still frustrated, he moved on to his masterpiece. Taking inspiration from a 1780 work, Edmund Jones Apparitions of Spirits in the Principality of Wales, combined with his own first hand field work, British Goblins was created. A book personally dedicated to his Royal Highness Albert Edward, Prince of Wales. Goblins, eh? Wonderful Book One. The Realm of Fairy With regard to other divisions of the field of folklore, the views of scholars differ. But in the realm of fairy, these differences are reconciled. It is agreed that fairy tales are relics of the ancient mythology, and the philosophers stroll hand in hand harmoniously with them. This is as it should be, in a realm about which cluster such delightful memories of the post-poetic period of life, childhood, before scepticism was crept in as ignorance slinks out. The knowledge which introduced scepticism is infinitely more valuable than the faith it displaced. But in spite of that, there be few among us who have not felt everest regret for the displacement of the old faith in fairies. There was something so peculiarly fascinating in that old belief, that once upon a time the world was less practical in its facts than now, less commonplace and less humdrum, less subject to the laws of gravitation, optics and the like. What dramas it has yielded, what poems, what dreams, and what delights. But since the knowledge of our more mature years destroys all of that, it's with a degree of satisfaction we can turn to the constellations of fairy mythology. The beloved tales of old may not be true, but at least they are not mere idle nonsense, and they have good and sufficient reason for being in the world, and may we continue to respect them. The wit who observed that the final course of fairy legend, to afford sport for people who ruthlessly track them to their origin, expressed a grave truth in jocular form. Since one can no longer rest in peace with one's ignorance, it is a comfort to the lover of fairy legends to find that he need not sweep them into the grate as so much rubbish. On the contrary, they become even more enchanting in the crucible of science than they were in their old character. Among the vulgar in Wales, the belief in fairies is less nearly extinct than casual observers would likely suppose. But most Welsh people of the educated class I find have no opinion beyond a vague surprise that the question should be raised at all. So lately as the year eighteen fifty eight, a learned writer declared that the traveller may pass from one end of the principality to the other without his being shocked or amused, as the case may be, by any of the fairy legends or popular tales which used to pass current from father to son. But in that same periodical, Archaeologica Cambranis, just eighteen years later, I find Mr John Walter Lucas, president of the Cardiff Naturalist Society, asserting with regard to the Cromlicks, Tumuli, and ancient camps of Glamorganshire, there are always fairy tales and ghost stories connected with them. Some, though fully believed in by the inhabitants of those localities, are often of the most absurd character. In fact, the more ridiculous they are, the more they are believed in. My own observation leads me to support the testimony of the last name witness. Educated Europeans generally conceive that this sort of belief is now extinct in their own land, or at least their own immediate section of that land. They accredit such degree of belief as may remain in this enlightened age to some remote part, to the south if they dwell in the north, or to the north if they dwell in the south, but especially they accredit it to a previous age. In Wales to the last century or the Middle Ages or the days of King Arthur. The rector of Murfa, being an elderly man, accredits it to his youth. I am old enough to remember, he wrote me under the date of january thirtieth, eighteen seventy seven, that these tales were thoroughly believed in among country folk forty or fifty years ago. People of superior culture have held this kind of faith concerning fairy law, it seems to me, in every age, except the more remote. Chaucer held it almost five centuries ago and wrote In the old days of King Arthur, all of this land was filled with fairy. I speak of many hundreds of year ago, but now can no man see no elves anymore. In all later days, other authors have written the same sort of thing. It is not thus now, they say, but it was recently thus. The truth probably is that if you would but sink down to the level of common life, of ignorant life, especially in rural neighbourhoods, there you will find the same old beliefs prevailing, in about the same degree to which they have always prevailed within the past five hundred years. To sink to this level successfully, one must become a living unit in that life, as I have done in Wales and elsewhere from time to time. Then one will hear the truth, or at least some sentiments of it, from the class he seeks to know. The practice of every generation is thus relegating fairy belief to a date just previous to its own. However, superstitious beliefs in general, concerning many similar beliefs, their greater or less prevalence at certain dates is a matter of well ascertained fact. I confine the argument for the present strictly to the domain of fairy. In this domain, the prevalent belief in Wales may said to rest within the ignorant, to be strongest in rural and mining districts, to be childlike and poetic, and to relate to anywhere except the spot where the speaker dwells. In Arthur's day and before that, the people of South Wales regarded North Wales as preeminently the land of fairy. In the popular imagination, that distant country was chosen to be the abode of giants, monsters, magicians, and all the creatures of enchantment. Out of it came the fairies on their visits to the sunny land of the south. The peasant who dwelt on the shores of Diffit saw in the distance beyond the blue waves of the ocean, shadowy mountain summits piercing the clouds and guarding this mystic region in solemn majesty. Thence rolled down upon him the storm clouds from the home of the tempest, thence steamed up the winter sky the flaming banners of the northern lights. Thence rose through the limitable darkness on high the star strewn pathway of the fairy king. These details are current in the Mabinoggin, those brilliant stories of Welsh enchantment, so gracefully done into English by Lady Charlotte Guest, and it is believed that all the Mabinoggin in which these details were found were written in Diffid. This region was the west, now covered by Pembroke, Camarthan, and Cardiganshires. More recently than the time above indicated, special traditions have located fairyland in the Vale of Neath. Its caves and crevices have been the favourite haunt for fairy for many centuries, and upon their rocks was held the court of the last fairies who ever appeared in Wales. Needless to say, there are men still living in the Vale of Neath who remember the visits of the fairies, although they state the little folk are no longer seen there. It's a common remark that the Methodists drove them away. Indeed, there are number of stories which show the fairies to have been animated when they were still numerous in Wales by a cordial antipathy for all dissenting preachers. The sovereign of all the fairies and their special guardian and protector was Gwynatnid. He was also ruler over the goblin tribe in general. His name often occurs in ancient Welsh poetry. An old bard of the 14th century, who, led away by the fairies, rode into a turf bar on a mountain one dark night, called it the fishpond of Gwynnaugnid, a palace for goblins and their tribe. The association of this legendary character with the goblin fame of the Vale of Neath will appear when it is mentioned that Need in Welsh is pronounced simply Neath and not otherwise. As for the Fairy Queen, she does not seem to have any existence among the Cambrian goblins. It is nevertheless thought that by Cambrian etymologists that Morgana is derived from Morgwyn, the white maid, and the Welsh proper name Morgan can hardly fail to be mentioned in this connection, though it is not necessarily significant. The legend of Saint Colin, in which Gwynnapnid figures, represents him as the King of Anwin, Hal or the Shadowland, as well as of the fairies. Colin was passing a period of mortification as a hermit in a cell under a rock on a mountain. There he one day overheard two men talking about Gwynnaed, and giving him this twofold kingly character, Cullen cried out to the men to go away and hold their tongues instead of talking about devils. For this he was rebuked, as the king of Fairyland had an objection to such language. Saint was summoned to meet the king on the hilltop at noon, and after repeated refusals he finally went there, but he carried a flask of holy water with him. The legend states And when he came there he saw the fairest castle he had ever beheld, and around it the best appointed troops, and numbers of minstrels and every kind of music of voice and string, and steeds with youths upon them, and maidens of elegant aspect, sprightly, light of foot, of graceful apparel, and in the bloom of youth, and every magnificence becoming the court of a pucient sovereign. And he beheld a courteous man on the top of the castle, who bade him enter, saying that the king was waiting for him to come and meet. And so he went into the castle, and when he came there the king was sitting in a golden chair. And he welcomed Colin honourably, and desired him to eat, assuring them that besides what he saw he should have the most luxurious of every dainty and delicacy that the mind could desire, and that there should be in readiness for him every luxury of courtesy and service, of banquet and of honorable entertainment, of rank and of presence, and every respect and welcome due to a man of his wisdom. I will not eat the leaves of the trees, said Colin. Didst thou ever see men of better equipment than those of red and blue? asked the king. Their equipment is good enough, said Colin, for such equipment as it is. And what kind of equipment is that? said the king. Then said Colin, the red on the one part signifies burning, and the blue on the other signifies coldness. And with that Colin drew out his flask and threw the holy water on their heads, whereupon they vanished from his sight, so that there was now neither castle nor troops, nor men or maidens or music, or song, or steeds, or banquet, nor the appearance of anything whatever but the green hills. Many extraordinary superstitions survive with regard to islands off the coast. They were supposed to be the abode of the souls of certain druids, who, not holy enough to enter the heaven of the Christians, were still not wicked enough to be condemned for the tortures of Anwin, and so were accorded a place in this romantic sort of purgatorial paradise. In the fifth century a voyage was made by the British King Garvan in search of these enchanted islands. With his family he sailed away into the unknown waters and was never heard of more. This voyage is commemorated in the triads as one of the three losses by disappearance, the two others being Merlins and Madogs. Merlin sailed away in a ship of glass, and Madog sailed in search of America, and neither returned but both disappeared forever. In Pembrickshire and Southern Carmarthenshire are to be found traces of this belief. There are sailors that on that romantic coast still talk of the green meadows of the enchantment lying in the Irish Channel to the west. Sometimes they are visible to the eyes of mortals for a brief space when suddenly they vanish. There are traditions too of sailors who in the early part of the present century actually went ashore on the fairy islands. They did not know they were as such until they returned to their boats, when they were filled with awe at seeing the islands disappear from their sight, neither sinking into the sea nor floating away upon the waters, but simply vanishing suddenly. The fairies inhabiting these islands are said to have regularly attended the markets of Milford Haven. They made their purchases without speaking, lay 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 populated 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. Belief in the visits to earth of disembodied spirits is common to all lands. There are no doubt differences in the degree of this belief, as there are differences in matters of detail. Where or how these spirits exist are questions much more difficult to the average faith than why they exist. They exist for the moral good of man. Of that there is no doubt. The rest belongs to the still unsettled science of the unknowable. The Welsh dearly love to discuss questions of a spiritual and religious nature. There are no doubt many who look upon disbelief herein as something approaching paganism. That one should believe in God and a future life, and yet to be utterly incredulous as to the existence of a mundane spirit world seems to such minds impossible. It may not be many years since the clergy taught a creed of this sort. One must not only believe in a spiritual existence, but must believe in the existence here below. Must believe that ghosts walked and meddled and made disagreeable noises. Our friend the Prophet Jones taught this creed with energy. In his relation of apparitions in Monmouthshire, he says, Enough is said in these relations to satisfy any reasonable, sober minded person. And to confute this ancient heresy now much revived and spreading, especially among the gentry and persons much estranged from God and spiritual things, and such will not be satisfied with things plainly proved and well designed, are, in this respect, no better than fools, and to be despised as such. In some this comes from a certain proud fineness, excessive delicacy, and a superfine disposition which cannot bear to be disturbed with what is strange and disagreeable to a vain spirit. The ghosts of Wales present many well defined features. It's even possible to classify them after a fashion. Of course, as with all descriptions of phantoms, the vagueness inevitable in creatures of the imagination is here. But the ghosts of Welsh tradition are often so old and have been handed down so cleanly through successive generations that in our day they have almost acquired definitive outlines. I venture to classify the inhabitants of the Welsh spirit world thus one departed mortals two goblin animals three spectres of natural objects four grotesque ghosts five familiar spirits six death omens. The ghosts of departed mortals are usually the late personal acquaintances of the people who see them, but sometimes they are strangers whom nobody knows and concerning whom everybody is curious. Two such ghosts haunted the streets of Abervale in Glamorganshire in January 1877. One was in the shape of an old woman, the other in that of a girl child. Timmy people kept indoors after nightfall, and there were many who believed thoroughly in the ghostly character of the mysterious visitors. Efforts were made to catch them, but they eluded capture. It was hinted by materialists that they were thieves, by unbelievers in spiritualism that they had perhaps escaped from a seance in some adjoining town. These ghosts, however, are not very interesting. A cultivated modner could have no satisfaction in forming the acquaintance of a seance ghost. It's quite otherwise in the case of a respectable old family goblin which has haunted a friend's house in the most Orthodox manner for centuries. Such ghosts are numerous in Wales and quite faithfully believed in by selected individuals. Indeed, one of the highest claims to a dignified antiquity that can be put by a Welsh family mansion is the possession of a good old-fashioned blood curdling spectre, like that, for example, which has haunted Druffin House, a handsome stone manse near Cardiff for the past two hundred years and more. This is the ghost of the Admiral Sir Thomas Button, famed in his day as an Arctic navigator. Since his death, he has faithfully haunted, so the local farm folk say, the cellar and the garden of the house, where he lived when he did live, which was in the 17th century. He has never been known to appear in the hall nor the chamber of the mansion, but has been seen hovering over the beer butt or turn in the cellar, commemorated in his name and walking in the flower garden on a fine windy night.

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Donat's Castle is down on the southern coast of Gilmorganshire in a primitive region not yet profaned by railroads, nor likely to perhaps for many years to come. It's owned and inhabited by a worthy gentleman whose ancestors for seven centuries sleep in the graveyard under the old castle wall. Its favourite ghost, for to confine this or any other ancient Welsh castle to a single ghost would be almost disrespectful, is that of Lady Stradlin. It was done away with by some of her family in those wicked old times when families did not always dwell in peace together. This ghost makes a practice of appearing when any mishap is about to befall a member of the house of Stradlin, the direct line of which is, however, extinct, a fact not very well apprehended amongst the neighbouring peasantry. She wears high heeled shoes and a long trailing gown of the finest silk. In this guise she wanders up and down the long majestic halls and chambers, and while she wanders, the castle hounds refuse to rest, but instead with their growlings raise all of the dogs of the village under the hill. Ghosts of this sort are vague and purposeless in character beyond a general blood curdling office to which all ghosts dwell. They haunt not only castles and family mansions, but bridges, rocks and roads, objectless but frightful. Few Cambrian spirits are devoid of didactic purpose. Some teach reverence for the dead, a lesson in great request among the rising generation in Wales and elsewhere. At a church in Cardinganshire, being rebuilt in 1877, certain skulls were turned up by the diggers in making new foundations. The local boys amused themselves playing ball with the skulls, picking out their teeth, banging them against the wall, and to see if they would break and the like. They probably never heard the story told by Mrs. Morgan of Newport to the Prophet Jones, of some who were drinking at an inn there, two of them officers of excise. But one of the men, to show his courage, declared he was afraid of no ghosts and dared to go to the Charnel House and fetch a skull from that ghastly place. This bold and dangerous thing he did, and the men debated over their beer whether it was a male or female's skull and concluded it was a woman's, though the grave nearly destroys the difference between male and female before the bones are turned to dust. After a jolly hour over the skull, the bold one carried it back and left it where he got it, but as he was leaving the church, suddenly a tremendous blast like a whirlwind seized him, and so mauled and hauled him that his teeth chattered in his head and his knees not together. He ever after swore that nothing should tempt him to do such a deed again. As a rule, the motive for the reappearance on earth of a spirit lately tenanting a mortal body is found in some neglected duty. The spirit of a suicide is morally certain to walk, a reason why suicides are so unpopular as tenants of graveyards. It's a brave man who will go to the grave of a suicide and play the Jews' harp without missing a note. Many of the tales display the motive on the ghost's part of a duty to perform, sometimes clearly defining it, sometimes vaguely suggesting it as in the story of No. The evening was far gone when a traveller of the name of No arrived at the inn in Pembrokeshire and called for a refreshment. After remaining some time he remarked that he must proceed on his journey. Surely, said the astonished landlord, you will not travel at night, for it's said that a ghost haunts the road who cries out the days are long and the nights are cold to wait for No. Oh I am the man sought for, said he, and he immediately departed. But strange to say, neither No or the ghost was ever heard of afterwards. The ghost of a weaver which appeared to Walter John Harry had a very clear idea of the duty he must perform. Walter John Harry was a Quaker, a harmless, honest man, and by trade a farrier who lived in the romantic valley of Abbey Four. The house he lived in was haunted by the ghost of Morgan Lewis, a weaver who had died in that house. One night, while lying awake in his bed with his wife sleeping by his side, Harry saw a light slowly ascending the stairs. Being somewhat afraid, though naturally fearless, he strove to awake his wife by pinching her, but could not waken her. So there he lay in great fear, and with starting eyes beheld the ghost of the weaver come up the stairs, bearing a candle in its hand and wearing a white woolen cap upon its head, with other garments usual to the weaver when alive. The ghost came near the farrier's bed, who then mustered up courage to speak to it. Morgan Lewis, said Harry, why dost thou walk this earth? The ghost replied with great solemnity that its reason for doing so was that there was some bottoms of wool hidden in the wall of the house, and until these were removed it could not sleep. However, the harmless farrier spoke severely to the ghost, saying, I charge thee, Morgan Lewis, in the name of God, that thou trouble my house no more. Whereupon the ghost vanished, and the house ceased thereafter to be haunted. The laws governing the Welsh spirit world are clear and explicit. A ghost on duty has no power of speech until is spoken to. Its persistency in haunting is due to its eager desire to speak and tell its urgent errand, but the person haunted must take his courage in both hands to put the question to issue. In addressing a spirit, it must be spoken to in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, and not otherwise. Its business must be demanded three times unless it answer earlier. When it answers, it speaks in a low and hollow voice, stating its desire, and it must not be interrupted while speaking, for to interrupt it is dangerous in the extreme. At the close of its remarks, questions are in order. They must be promptly delivered, however, or the ghost will vanish. It is offended if asked as to its state or other idle questions born of curiosity. Neglect to obey the ghost's injunctions when this will lead to much annoyance, and eventually to dire results. At first the spirit will appear with a discontented visage, next to an angry one, and finally with a countenance distorted with the most ferocious rage. Obedience is the only method of escape from its revenge. Such is a resume of the laws. And I think that might have been the crux of Psyche's own fascination with the subject. It certainly is mine. And you know, over the last couple of years of doing the podcast, if we can characterize mostly British folklore into groups, one would definitely be the issue of goblins or sprites and these fairy creatures, and they're kind of rubbing shoulder to shoulder with what we might traditionally think of more akin to ghosts. And how in times gone past the two weren't that distinct. There could be a goblin haunting a bridge. There could be a ghost being mischievous in a house. The abilities of both seem to be interchangeable. I think it's a fascinating area of folklore and legend. Now if you like this podcast, and I'm assuming you do if you stuck with me for this long, you might enjoy some of the other stuff I do. And that's over on my own website, not Taleshamantiquaria, but the local mythstorian.com. That's mythmy th, storion s t-o-r-in.com, thelocalmythstorian.com. And that's where my um venture into folklore and everything and podcasting really took shape a few years ago. It's full of essays, features, and other podcasts I've done too. And it'd be great to see you over there. There's a mailing list where we can keep in touch. And indeed, I'll be migrating the Taleshamantiquaria website into the local myth story and going forward. So all of the episodes of this podcast will be on there as well. Anyway, until we reconvene, take care, and as always, may your God go with you. You can find out more about the show and about my other projects at the local mythstorian.com.