The tale of Ceridwen, whose fame was such that she can without exaggeration be styled the goddess of witches, resembles in part the chase of the witch-hare by the black dog, and probably her story gave rise to many tales of transformations.
I now come to another kind of transformation. It was believed by the aged in Wales that witches could not only turn themselves into hares, but that by incantation they could change other people into animals. My friend, the
Rev. T. Lloyd Williams, Wrexham, lodged whilst he was at Ystrad Meurig School with a Mrs. Jones, Dolfawr, who was a firm believer in “Rhibo” or Rheibo, or witching, and this lady told my friend the following tales of Betty’r Bont, a celebrated witch in those parts.
A Man turned into a Hare.
One of the servant men at Dolfawr, some years before Mr. Williams lodged there, laughed at Betty’r Bont’s supposed power. However, he lived to repent his folly. One night after he had gone to bed he found that he had been changed into a hare, and to his dismay and horror he saw a couple of greyhounds slipped upon him. He ran for bare life, and managed to elude his pursuers, and in a terrible plight and fright he ran to Dolfawr, and to his bed. This kind of transformation he ever afterwards was subjected to, until by spells he was released from the witch’s power over him.
A Man changed into a Horse.
Mr. Williams writes of the same servant man who figures in the preceding tale:—”However, after that, she (Betty’r Bont) turned him into a grey mare, saddled him, and actually rode him herself; and when he woke in the morning, he was in a bath of perspiration, and positively declared that he had been galloping all night.”
Singularly enough Giraldus Cambrensis mentions the same kind of transformation. His words are:—
“I myself, at the time I was in Italy, heard it said of some districts in those parts, that there the stable-women, who had learnt magical arts, were wont to give something to travellers in their cheese, which transformed them into beasts of burden, so that they carried all sorts of burdens, and after they had performed their tasks, resumed their own forms.”—Bohn’s Edition, p. 83.
From Brand’s Popular Antiquities, p. 225, I find that a common name for nightmare was witch-riding, and the night-mare, he tells us, was “a spectre of the night, which seized men in their sleep and suddenly deprived them of speech and motion,” and he quotes from Ray’s Collection of Proverbs:—