Premonitions and Omens!
When a coffin sounds hollow in nailing it down, there will soon be another death in the house. The dead are laid out, if possible, with their faces to the east, "for fear that the wind from the west, blowing over the feet of the corpses, will bring a catching complaint" into the parish.
It was customary, whenever a death took place, to shake the vinegar and wine for luck.
People who commit a crime which remains undiscovered are doomed to walk in spirit form, with their heads under their arms. Wales has the reputation of having innumerable headless ghosts - an indication of many undiscovered crimes! If a person buries or conceals money or treasure of any kind before his death, he must afterwards walk ceaselessly in search of it, or he will have no peace in the hereafter. If you beat down the undertaker's charges, the dead cannot rest.
Dead children visit in spirit form the people who loved them best. The dead always reappear on the ninth day after death, but only a few are privileged to see them.
A dead person's linen is always washed immediately, "for fear he will not rest in his grave."
Two persons who, wearing mourning, meet for the first time, must never fall in love, or they will "come to quarrel."
If three thumps are heard in the house at night, a death will soon follow.
If a mole burrows under the washhouse or dairy, the mistress of the home will die within the year. If a molehill be found among the cabbages in the garden, the master of the house will die before the year is out.
If the wind blows out a candle on the altar, or lights grow dim in the chancel or around the pulpit, the clergyman or minister will soon die. If the house candle gutters in a long length it indicates a shroud or a coffin.
When people experience a cold shiver they say, "A donkey is walking over my grave," or, "Death is picking my grave."
If the pall be placed on a coffin wrong side out, there will be another death soon in that family.
To prove whether a sick person will live or die, place a handful of nettles under his pillow. If they keep green, the invalid will recover if they turn colour, he will surely die.
When a screech-owl is heard crying near a house, it is an indication of death on the premises. When a barn-owl alights on a house, hoots, and then flies over it, an inmate will die within the year.
A solitary crow or goose flying over a house portends the same sorrow. If any person is ill when this happens, there will be no recovery. A c*** crowing at an untimely hour is a death warning.
If a swarm of bees enters a house or settles on the dead boughs of a tree near the premises, the old people say "death will soon follow." When there is a death in a household the head of the family whispers the news to the bees, and the beehives are turned around before the funeral.
If crickets suddenly desert a house, death will soon enter.
It is said that the house cat can tell whether the soul of the dead person has "gone to heaven or hell." If immediately after death the house cat ascends a tree, the soul is "gone to heaven"; if it descends, the soul is "gone to hell."
The ticking of the insect called the "death watch" is an omen of the inevitable.
The death of a near relative was prophesied by a white weasel.
If any person saw a white mole, he might expect his own death.
A white crow presaged death or disaster in the house near which it appeared. A white pigeon was also a harbinger of death. A white dog, a white hare, or black foxes were regarded as messengers of death. A dove or doves circling above the head of anybody were supposed to indicate serious illness or death.
It is unlucky to call the dead by name. If there is sudden thunder in mid-winter, the most important person for twenty miles around will die. If a body is lying dead in a village on a Sunday, there will be a death in the same parish almost immediately.
In many parts of Wales it is asserted that if when you hear the cuckoo for the first time you are standing on grass or any green leaves, you will certainly live to hear the bird next season; but if you are standing on a roadway, or the earth, or even upon stone, you will not live to hear the cuckoo when it comes next.
If after receiving the Sacrament a sick person asks for food, he will die for certain; but if he asks for water or any kind of beverage, he will recover.
If a man dies exactly at the time of new moon, he will take away all the family luck with him. It is not good for a corpse to be reflected in a glass or mirror of any kind, because the dead will not rest. If two people express the same thought at the same moment, one of them will die before the year is out.
A funeral on a Saturday was considered good for the dead person's soul. In Wales they say, "Blessed are the dead that the rain rains on."
If a small silver coin is placed in the mouth of the dead, the latter will not come in spirit form to earth in search of any hidden treasure. If a corpse retains its colour or looks red in the face, one of the relatives will soon follow to the grave.
Any person can pray that his enemy be dead, if he wishes to repeat Psalm cix. every night and morning for a whole year. If he misses one night or morning, he must certainly die himself.
When prayers are said by a sick-bed while complete silence is maintained the patient will die. If anybody coughs or makes the slightest noise, the patient will recover.
If a smell as of fresh-turned earth pervades a house, people say "There will be a death in the family soon." A wind called the "Gwynt-Traed-y-Meirw," or " wind blowing over the feet of the corpses," is felt by a relative of a person who is about to die, and by that they say, "Death is coming." If a person shivers before a roaring fire or in the heat of summer, the people say, "The spirits are searching for your grave."
If a watch or small clock falls to the floor, there will be a death in the house. When the house clock fails to strike it is an omen of death. If the town or church clock fails to strike, an important inhabitant or the incumbent of the parish will soon die. If two clocks strike exactly at the same moment, a married couple will die in the village. If the town or church clock strikes while the passing bell or a funeral knell is tolling, there will soon be another death in the parish. When the church bells sound dull or not so clear as usual, there will soon be a death in the parish. If a raven or rook perches and caws upon or near a house where a sick person is lying, it foretokens the patient's death. A long, narrow cinder falling from the fire denotes the coming of a shroud or coffin to the house. If a cinder called a coffin flies out of the fire, the person that it alights nearest will die first. If a mouse nibbles any part of a person's clothing, he or she will surely die soon. White beetles in a house are called "death-bringers." If two white lice are found in the hair or on the body of any person, a death in the family may be expected. If you allow your tears to fall on the dead, they will have no rest.
If a strange dog howls near the house, it is an omen of a death in the family. In some Welsh households it is considered an omen of death or misfortune for the house-dog to get up in the night and howl. The trouble may not actually fall upon the inmates, but upon their relatives or family connections.
It is considered very unlucky to pluck a flower that is growing on a grave. Persons doing so will experience death or disaster in their own families before a year has passed.
Mysterious marks, generally very dark, or "black and blue," that appear on a person's body, especially the arms, and cannot be accounted for, are called "the death pinch." After their appearance people said there would soon be a death in the family.
A sudden and startling noise heard on New Year's Night foretokens a death in the family.
A person cannot die easily if there are pigeon's feathers in the bed.
In Glamorgan and several other parts of Wales the yarrow is called "the death flower." People will not allow it to be brought into their houses, for it is said that if it is taken in, one, two, or three funerals will soon come out of the same house, or will happen in the same family.
The omens of death included the Cyhiraeth and the Tolaeth.
The Cyhiraeth was a doleful cry proceeding from the home of a sick person, and traversing the way leading to the place of internment. Sometimes it assumed a sad, wailing sound, heard at a distance. Occasionally it sounded like a smothered shriek, or a rushing noise resembling the whirring of birds' wings, or a flight of starlings. When heard on the seashore it foretokened wrecks. If the moaning passed up and down among the houses in a hamlet or village, it indicated epidemics.
The Tolaeth was only apparent to one sense at a time. When heard it could not be seen, and it could not be heard if anybody saw it in any form.
As a rule, the Tolaeth is described as rapping, or knocks, or heavy thuds. Sometimes it sounded like the shuffling or tramping of many feet, or the noise of people bearing a heavy burden.
The following experiences describe the Tolaeth in North and South Wales.
A tailor living in Carnarvonshire said he always knew when a customer was going to die by the sounds he heard. One day he was repairing the breeches of a huntsman, and presently he heard a mysterious rapping or tapping on his work-table. If he set the breeches aside for a few moments whilst threading a needle or cutting a piece of cloth, the sounds ceased; but when he took up the work again, the rapping or tapping was resumed. In this way he was able to foretell deaths in the parish.
A fisherman living on the shores of St. Bride's Bay said that for three successive nights in 1903 he was disturbed by the sounds downstairs of shuffling feet, doors opening, chairs being moved, and a grunting sound like that of men laying down a heavy burden or load of something. The man was much troubled in mind about these noises, and mentioned the subject to his wife, who admitted having heard the same sounds. Both agreed that they were nothing less than the Tolaeth. The noises were only heard in the kitchen. A week later their only son was drowned, and his body was brought home on a ladder. The mysterious sounds were exactly reproduced. The shuffling of feet, moving of chairs, and grunting sounds of the men setting down the ladder with its burden - all were heard as in the solitary watches of the night.
A man who was accustomed to letter breastplates for village carpenters and undertakers kept a stock of material for this purpose in a corner cupboard at the top of the stairs leading from the kitchen to his bedroom. He always knew when a death was going to happen in the district, because of the rappings, knocks, and rustling of trimmings in the corner cupboard.
Even in the present day carpenters in the rural districts of Wales assert that they are often forewarned of a death by mysterious rappings and knockings among the timbers in the workshop.
A curious story was told me by a Glamorgan carpenter. Early in 1904 an aged and much-respected man frequented the workshop. He had not long returned from America where he had made a small fortune. Seeing a piece of timber in the end of the shop the old man struck it with his stick. "That is the stuff for my coffin," said the old man.
"There's plenty more like it." remarked the carpenter. "No, no," added the old man, who pointed out a peculiarity in the timber. A little controversy arose between the two men about the quality of the different timber on the premises. Before the old man left, he said, "That is to be the timber for me." The carpenter thought no more about the conversation, until one night, while working late, he quickly took up a piece of timber and laid it on his table. Suddenly he was disturbed by rappings and knocks. Thinking somebody sought admission, he several times called, "Come in," but without response. Again and again he set to work measuring the pieces of timber he had taken up, and each time he touched it the rappings and tappings continued. He was called away, and did not return to his work until early the next morning, when he moved the piece of timber, and placed it against the wall. But no sooner had he done so than the noises were resumed, and in vexation he threw the timber into the yard; but the apprentice replaced the piece among others of the same kind and quality. The carpenter then remembered that the piece of timber was the very one that the old man from America had bespoken for his coffin. Thereupon, believing the omen meant something, he set the timber carefully aside. A week later the old man died, and the bespoken timber was used for his coffin.
Mysterious coffin-making has been heard in many villages. An old woman in South Glamorgan said she knew when an important death was likely to happen in her locality; for she said, "There is always a noise of coffin-making in the dead of the night in any grandson's workshop." This had been the experience of four generations of the same family.
In a village a few miles west of Cardiff, a farmer had the following experience: He lived in a farm-house the east windows of which overlooked a carpenter's shop and small timber-yard. Just before midnight on a Sunday night, looking out of his window, he was startled by seeing a dim light burning in the shop. His thoughts immediately turned to thieves, who were apparently making free with his neighbour's goods. Dressing himself in haste, he quietly left the house and entered the narrow lane leading to the yard. When there, he distinctly heard the sounds of coffin making. First thoughts prompted him to return indoors, as he was by this time under the impression that the carpenter had received a hurried order for a coffin. Second thoughts urged him forward, and, quietly crossing the yard, he approached the workshop, where the dim light was still burning. Through the open doorway he distinctly saw the big and burly form of a labourer who was well known to be a notorious poacher. Returning as quickly as possible, the farmer went down to the village, and sought the aid of the policeman, who was just starting on his night beat. Both men went up the lane to the yard, but by this time the light had vanished, and no trace of the poacher could be seen. The door of the shop was tried. It was locked. Early next morning the farmer told the carpenter what he had seen, and both entered the workshop with the policeman. A careful examination showed that everything was in order. Apparently nothing had been touched, and there was absolutely no evidence that anyone had been in the building. But the farmer persisted in asserting he had seen the light and the poacher. The story was the topic of conversation in the village, and presently it reached the poacher's ears. He declared he was in Cardiff on that very night. A few weeks later the poacher was accidentally shot in a field beyond the farm. His body was conveyed to the workshop, and laid therein, pending the inquest.
Folk-stories concerning the personification of Death are to be found in Wales.
Evan Bach - "Little Evan" - of Porthcawl, Glamorgan, desired to live to a very great age. When Death came to look for him at sixty, he thought it was "foolishly soon." Evan was very pleasant to Death, and invited him to be seated at the fireside corner of the settle. "I have no time," said the visitor, "and there are several calls to make in this neighbourhood." "Half an hour isn't much to miss in a night" remarked Evan. "I am in a hurry, and you must come with me," said Death. "Isn't it a bit soon?" asked Evan. "Only sixty, an' able to do a good many things `fore I'm eighty." "That may be," said Death, rattling his bones ominously; "but I have set my mind on having a man of your age to night, or, at latest, to-morrow. People of sixty are getting too sure of themselves." "Well," said Evan, there's Billy James down in Newton. He's jest gone sixty. Iss, indeed; an' now I do come to think of it, Billy`ll be glad to go. He's had rheumaticks since he was forty. There's one to be a warnin, if you like." Death looked gravely into Evan Bach's eyes, and said: "I want a healthy man, of whom it shall be said, "Died by the visitation of God." "Well, well, to be shure," said Evan "an' I can tell you of one sound in wind and limb-just the thing for you. Iss, indeed! An' that's Dewi Mawr [Big David] of Pyle. He can walk forty miles without feeling tired. Come, now, isn't that likely to suit? You be uncommon hard to please." This with the rubbing of hands and a smile. "There's plenty riper then me down this way," continued Evan. "There's Ned of Merthyr Mawr, an' Jack o' Cornelly, an' old Uncle Dick o' Newton, an' all of `em over eighty." "Too old for me just now," said Death. "Well, now," said Evan, "supposin' I wass to give you all my savin's - a big lump, too, only you'll keep it a secret, I know" - with a wink at Death - "jest on three thousand pound." "Money is of no use to me," said Death; "but for once I will break my rule, if you are prepared to make a bargain with me." Evan was elated "Dear anwyl [beloved], I will do anything you do like. Iss, indeed." Death lowered his voice, and said solemnly: "My terms are these: You must work more on the land than you have been doing since your savings reached three thousand pounds." "I will work agen every day but Sunday," said Evan. "You must support your old aunt, who has only parish pay." "Agreed. Iss, indeed!" exclaimed Evan. "You must give a new fishing-boat to your nephew who is soon to be married," said Death. "To be shure. Iss, indeed!" exclaimed Evan. "And you must be more generous than you have been during the past few years," continued Death. "Anything you do tell me to do, I will do it. Iss, indeed." answered Ryan. "Finally," said Death, you must give more to the poor-box and the collections in the parish church. If you fail in these things, I shall come for you." "But if I do all these things, and never fail, I shall live for ever," said Ryan. "Nay," replied Death "but you shall live over a hundred years - that is, forty or so years from your sixtieth year." "Dear anwyl," said Evan, "I'd be satisfied with comin' at ninety-nine. Iss, indeed!" Death went his way, and Evan kept his part of the bargain. Modryb (Aunt) Molly was in his house; his nephew had the new boat; he was wonderfully generous, and he gave handsomely to the collections and the poor-box in church. For many years all went well, but when he approached his ninetieth year he began to feel miserly. Modryb Molly was long dead; his nephew was well off. Evan became selfish, and he gave less to the collection in church and the poor-box. When he was ninety-three all his good work ceased. A little later Death came for him. Evan pleaded for the other six years of life but it was too late; the bargain had failed. This story, called "Evan Bach," was popular in Glamorgan in the early part of the nineteenth century, and formed part of the repertoire of wandering minstrels. [Family Collection.]
A folk-story of the same period was well known in the first half of the nineteenth century. At Mellincourt, about four miles from Neath, lived Modryb Nan, who on several occasions had been carried off by main force over mountains and streams, through woods and glens, and returned again, but never would let people know what her experiences had been. Rumours were current that a few times in her life she had been visited by a stranger - a grim figure in a long grey cloak and a curious slouching grey hat. He had been seen, but his face was never visible, for the reason that people always observed him going to Modryb Nan's house, and never coming from it. They also heard something like the clanking of keys or fetters, as the stranger moved along. Modryb Nan's nephew came home from sea, and hoped while he remained ashore to solve the mystery of the stranger, if the latter paid a visit to his aunt. One night in December his wish was gratified. He slept upstairs, and as there were wide cracks and small holes in the flooring, anybody could play the spy therefrom. In the dead of the night Jack, who was snoring, heard a knock at the cottage door. Modryb Nan, who slept on the ground floor, did not immediately hear the knock, which was repeated thrice. Then she got up, and called out, "Who's there?" Somebody answered, " You know who." Modryb Nan unbolted the door, and Jack from the flooring saw the grey-cloaked stranger entering, while his aunt sat down on the settle. "I am come for you," said the stranger." "Sit a bit," replied Nan; "I'm not quite ready. It's a cold night." And she shivered. Some talking went on, and presently the stranger threw his cloak off, revealing no more nor less than a complete skeleton. Jack shook with fear, and eagerly watched the couple. "This is the third time of asking," said the stranger, "and to night I come to claim my bride." Modryb Nan moved uneasily on the settle. Then there was more whispering between the pair, and presently the skeleton seized the old woman and compelled her to dance with it. Wildly they whirled, until Modryb Nan was giddy, and begged permission to rest. While she did so the skeleton resumed its cloak and hat, and prepared for departure. It threw the door wide open, snatched Modryb Nan under its arm, and when Jack went to his window to look out into the dim moonlight, he saw a grey horse waiting, upon which there was a bundle. The skeleton, placing Nan in front, mounted the horse, and rode away like lightning. The people said Death had come for Modryb Nan, who was never again seen. [0.S. and C.D.)
Dewi of Cwmdyfran, near Carmarthen, cheated Death twice, according to an old folk story. He entered into a compact with the devil by which the latter should have his soul if he saved him from Death until he reached his hundredth birthday. This the devil promised to do without fail. So he gave Dewi instructions that when Death approached or knocked at the door for admission, he was to have ready a sack filled with old rags. This was to be tied around the neck with one of Dewi's cravats, and on the mouth of the sack an old hat was to be placed. Dewi was to go into the cupboard near the bed, and snore loudly. When Death came and knocked Dewi snored and snored. After three knocks Death called upon Dewi to answer, but there was no response. "He sleeps soundly," said Death, and Dewi heard him. Growing impatient, Death forced the window, seized the rag figure, and fled, leaving Dewi to laugh heartily. The next time Death came Dewi again cheated him in the same way. When Death paid his third visit Dewi was ninety. It was his birthday, and the old man had celebrated it with his friends in a convivial manner. Upon reaching home, Dewi went to bed, and when Death knocked at the door he was fast asleep and snoring. He did not hear his visitor, and therefore could not put the rag effigy in the bed. Death entered by the window, and seized Dewi, who, awakened by a rough shaking, tried to wrestle with his visitor. In vain he struggled and lamented his lapse. He failed this time to cheat Death. When his neighbours came in the morning they remembered his story about how he had cheated Death twice, and meant to be "up-sides" with him the third time. "After all," said the neighbours, "he had lived long enough, and `twas better to die than live to a hundred, and then give his soul to the devil!" This old tale was sometimes called "The Lucky Escape of Dewi Cwmdyfran." [A.B. and C.D.]
Similar stories were formerly told in many parts of the Principality, and some of them had morals attached, or were related in a manner to inspire awe in people who boasted of the longevity of themselves or relatives. When men passed over eighty-six, they invariably said they were "good for another twenty years." Very often their assertions were true.
Yay cool post my ancestors were strong Welsh and Irish so reading superstitions and things of the alike are of great interest to me. Blessings, Jo