Music and Bird Singing heard before Death.
The writer, both in Denbighshire and Carnarvonshire, was told that the dying have stated that they heard sweet voices singing in the air, and they called the attention of the watchers to the angelic sounds, and requested perfect stillness, so as not to lose a single note of the heavenly music.
A young lad, whom the writer knew—an intelligent and promising boy—whilst lying on his death-bed, told his mother that he heard a bird warbling beautifully outside the house, and in rapture he listened to the bird’s notes.
His mother told me of this, and she stated further, that she had herself on three different occasions previously to her eldest daughter’s death, in the middle of the night, distinctly heard singing of the most lovely kind, coming, as she thought, from the other side of the river. She went to the window and opened it, but the singing immediately ceased, and she failed to see anyone on the spot where she had imagined the singing came from. My informant also told me that she was not the only person who heard lovely singing before the death of a friend. She gave me the name of a nurse, who before the death of a person, whose name was also given me, heard three times the most beautiful singing just outside the sick house. She looked out into the night, but failed to see anyone. Singing of this kind is expected before the death of every good person, and it is a happy omen that the dying is going to heaven.
In the Life of Tegid, which is given in his Gwaith Barddonawl, p. 20, it is stated:—
“Yn ei absenoldeb o’r Eglwys, pan ar wely angeu, ar fore dydd yr Arglwydd, tra yr oedd offeiriad cymmydogaethol yn darllen yn ei le yn Llan Nanhyfer, boddwyd llais y darllenydd gan fwyalchen a darawai drwy yr Eglwys accen uchel a pherseiniol yn ddisymwth iawn. . . . Ar ol dyfod o’r Eglwys cafwyd allan mai ar yr amser hwnw yn gywir yr ehedodd enaid mawr Tegid o’i gorph i fyd yr ysprydoedd.”
Which translated is as follows:—
In his absence from Church, when lying on his deathbed, in the morning of the Lord’s Day, whilst a
neighbouring clergyman was taking the service for him in Nanhyfer Church, the voice of the reader was suddenly drowned by the beautiful song of a thrush, that filled the whole Church. . . . It was ascertained on leaving the church that at that very moment the soul of Tegid left his body for the world of spirits.
In the Myths of the Middle Ages, p. 426, an account is given of “The Piper of Hamelin,” and there we have a description of this spirit song:—
Sweet angels are calling to me from yon shore,
Come over, come over, and wander no more.
Miners believe that some of their friends have the gift of seeing fatal accidents before they occur. A miner in the East of Denbighshire told me of instances of this belief and he gave circumstantial proof of the truth of his assertion. Akin to this faith is the belief that people have seen coffins or spectral beings enter houses, both of which augur a coming death.
In The Lives of the Cambro-British Saints, p. 444, it is stated that previously to the death of St. David “the whole city was filled with the music of angels.”
The preceding death omens do not, perhaps, exhaust the number, but they are quite enough to show how prevalent they were, and how prone the people were to believe in such portents. Some of them can be accounted for on natural grounds, but the majority are the creation of the imagination, strengthened possibly in certain instances by remarkable coincidences which were remembered, whilst if no death occurred after any of the omens, the failure was forgotten.
BIRDS AND BEASTS.
Folk-lore respecting animals is common in Wales. It has been supposed that mountainous countries are the cradles of superstitions. But this is, at least, open to a doubt; for most places perpetuate these strange fancies, and many of them have reached our days from times of old, and the exact country whence they came is uncertain. Still, it cannot be denied that rugged, rocky, sparsely inhabited uplands, moorlands, and fens, are congenial abodes for wild fancies, that have their foundation in ignorance, and are perpetuated by the credulity of an imaginative people that lead isolated and solitary lives.
The bleating of the sheep, as they wander over a large expanse of barren mountain land, is dismal indeed, and well might become ominous of storms and disasters. The big fat sheep, which are penned in the lowlands of England, with a tinkling bell strapped to the neck of the king of the flock, convey a notion of peace and plenty to the mind of the spectator, that the shy active mountain sheep, with their angry grunt and stamping of their feet never convey. Still, these latter are endowed with an instinct which the English mutton-producer does not exercise. Welsh sheep become infallible prognosticators of a change of weather; for, by a never failing instinct, they leave the high and bare mountain ridges for sheltered nooks, and crowd together when they detect the approach of a storm. Man does not observe atmospheric changes as quickly as sheep do, and as sheep evidently possess one instinct which is strongly developed and exercised, it is not unreasonable to suppose that man in a low state of civilisation might credit animals with possessing powers which, if observed, indicate or foretell other events beside storms.
Thus the lowly piping of the solitary curlew, the saucy burr of the grouse, the screech of the owl, the croaking of the raven, the flight of the magpie, the slowly flying heron, the noisy cock, the hungry seagull, the shrill note of the woodpecker, the sportive duck, all become omens.
Bird omens have descended to us from remote antiquity. Rome is credited with having received its pseudo-science of omens from Etruria, but whence came it there? This semi-religious faith, like a river that has its source in a far distant, unexplored mountain region, and meanders through many countries, and does not exclusively belong to any one of the lands through which it wanders; so neither does it seem that these credulities belong to any one people or age; and it is difficult, if not impossible, to trace to their origin, omens, divination, magic, witchcraft, and other such cognate matters, which seem to belong to man’s nature.
Readers of Livy remember how Romulus and Remus had recourse to bird omens to determine which of the brothers should build Rome. Remus saw six vultures, and Romulus twelve; therefore, as his number was the greater, to him fell the honour of building the famous city.
But this was not the only bird test known to the Romans. Before a battle those people consulted their game fowl to ascertain whether or not victory was about to attend their arms. If the birds picked up briskly the food thrown to them victory was theirs, if they did so sluggishly the omen was unpropitious, and consequently the battle was delayed.
Plutarch, in his “Life of Alexander,” gives us many proofs of that great general’s credulity. The historian says:—“Upon his (Alexander’s) approach to the walls (of Babylon) he saw a great number of crows fighting, some of which fell down dead at his feet.” This was a bad sign. But I will not pursue the subject. Enough has been said
to prove how common omens were. I will now confine my remarks to Wales.