Folklore – Page 2 – Living Library

The Raven and Crow of the Celts – Part II: Fairytales and Folklore

by Karyn Dunbar, gallery accessed by clicking on image

“The Raven is equally a bird of omen, Raven-knowledge, or wisdom being proverbial” – George Henderson. (Survival in Belief Amongst Celts. 1911)

Many Celtic Fairytales contain remnants of the old stories of Gods and Goddesses [part I]. In Donald Mackenzie’s 1917 Wonder Tales of Scottish Myth, for example, we’re told that the Banshee can appear as a black dog, a Raven, or a Hoodie Crow during the day. The older spelling of Banshee was Bean Sidhe. The word Sidhe is usually used in relation to the Tuatha De Danaan, Old Ireland’s pre Christian deities[i].

Thomas Croker claimed, in his 1825 book Fairy Legends of South Ireland, that the Leprechaun “properly written” was Preachan. Croker said that the name meant, “Raven.”

In the 1773 book Scottish Fairy and Folk Tales by Sir. George Douglas, we find a story reminiscent of much older shapeshifting myths when a man’s wife turns herself into a Raven to avoid some ravenous dogs. The same power of transformation is possessed by the Witches of Mull in George Henderson’s 1911 book, Survival in Belief Amongst Celts. The most famous Witch of Mull was Doideag, a powerful sorceress who some believed sank the Spanish Armada[ii].

There are many fairytales in which a person is turned into a Raven, or Crow, as part of a curse. In Joseph Jacob’s 1894 More Celtic Fairytales, for example, a man is turned into a Raven when his wife strikes him. Usually, however, the Raven’s curse is somehow related to “the son of a king” such as the two stories which are found in J.F. Campbell’s 1890 Popular Tales of West Highlands.

In the story of the Battle of the Birds, found in Joseph Jacob’s earlier 1892 book Celtic Fairy Tales, a king’s son happens upon a fierce battle. All of the other creatures have already fled the battlefield or are dead, except for a black Raven and a snake locked in mortal combat. The king’s son aids the Raven and kills the snake. The Raven then leads the king’s son over nine bens, glens and mountain moors in one day, six on the following day, and three on the final day. On the third morning the Raven has disappeared and a “handsome lad” is standing in his place. This boy claims that an evil druid had put a curse on him, transforming him into a Raven. As thanks, for saving his life and lifting the curse, the Raven-boy gives the king’s son a gift of “a bundle,” which contains in it a Castle and an Apple orchard.

In Popular Tales of West Highlands is the story of The Hoodie Crow. In it, the youngest of three sisters agrees to marry a Crow. Once married, she discovers that her husband is really a handsome man – of course. Due to her love, the curse becomes partially lifted and the third daughter is forced to decide if she wants her husband as a man or as a Crow during the day. The bride eventually decides that her husband will be a man during the day and a Crow at night.

“The Crow was a bird of darkness. He was always associated with the man skilled in Black Airt [sic]” – Walter Greger (Notes on Folklore of Northeast Scotland. 1881)

In folklore, the Raven and Crow of the Celts can be somewhat of a guardian angel, as well. Such is the case with the Crow found in Joseph Jacob’s Celtic Fairy Tales. In it, a talking bird appears to a man who’s having problems with a leaky sieve (we all know what that’s like). The Crow tells the man to use red clay from the bottom of the river to repair the sieve. The man does what the crow suggests and the sieve no longer leaks.

The Raven and Crow sometimes has human-like abilities, similar to the Raven found in First Nation myths of the Pacific Northwest. In one Celtic story, for example, a Raven is chewing tobacco[iii], in another, hundreds of Ravens are engaged in a semi-formal dance[iv].

There’s also an interesting story found in the 1887 book Ancient Legends, Mystic Charms, and Superstitions of Ireland by Lady Wilde. A man steals some Raven’s eggs and boils them. He then places the eggs back in the nest. The Raven returns to the nest, discovers the cooked eggs, and then quickly leaves. The Raven eventually returns with a magic stone, which she rubs all over the boiled eggs. Through this action the eggs are restored to their previous state. The man, as he’d planned all along, then steals the magic stone from the Raven intending to use it for his own personal gain (a Leprechaun-like story).

Besides the many fairytales and folk stories, Raven proverbs are also scattered throughout the old texts:

A Raven hovering over a cow meant that there was “a blight” upon the animal (Joseph Jacobs. More Celtic Fairytales. 1894).
A departing soul sometimes took on the form of a Raven (George Henderson. Survival in Belief Amongst Celts. 1911).
If a Raven was present when somebody died, it was said to be the Devil retrieving his or her soul. If the bird present was a White Dove, however, it meant that the person had obtained salvation (Thomas Croker. Fairy Legends of South Ireland. 1825).
A Crow on a house indicated that someone would die (Walter Greger. Notes on Folklore of Northeast Scotland. 1881).
“The howling of a dog at night, and the resting of a Crow or Magpie on the house-step are signs of death (Andrew Lang. Prophecies of Brahan Seer. 1899).”
A Raven tapping three times on a windowpane foretold the death of an occupant (John Seymour. True Irish Ghosts. 1914).
“If Ravens were cawing about the house it is a sure sign of death, for the Raven is Satan’s own bird (Lady Wilde. Ancient Legends, Mystic Charms, and Superstitions of Ireland. 1887).”
“The Crow and Black Hen are ominous of evil (ibid).”
“It is unlucky to meet a Magpie… when going on a journey (ibid).
The Raven prepared “his nest” on St. Bride’s Day and would have a chick by Easter. “If the Raven has not he has his death (Alexander Carmichael. Carmina Gadelica – Vol I. 1900).”
The Devil could appear as a Raven and would land upon a person’s head in order to possess their bodies (St. John Seymour. Irish Witchcraft and Demonology. 1913).
“What is blacker than a Raven?” “There is Death (J.F. Campbell. Popular Tales of West Highlands: Vol III. 1890).”
“The Raven sometimes brings aid to man (J.F. Campbell. Popular Tales of West Highlands: Vol I. 1890).”
“The Raven, the Crow, and the Serpent, have appeared as transformed beings of superior power (J. F. Campbell. Popular Tales of West Highlands. 1890).”
“Give a piece to a Raven and he will come again (A.W. Moore. Folklore of the Isle of Man. 1891).”
To protect young goats, or kids, Scottish Highlanders often gave libations and cakes to the Crow who they claimed often “molested” them (Charles Squire. Celtic Myth and Legend. 1905).
There is a Scottish chant, “There to thee Raven spare my kids!” that’s used to protect young goats (Alexander Carmichael. Carmina Gadelica – Vol I. 1900)
It is a curse to leave a dead Crow (or other creature) on a hearth (George Henderson. Survival in Belief Amongst Celts. 1911).
“The day will come when a Raven attired in plaid and a bonnet, will drink his fill of human blood on ‘Fionn-bheinn,’ three times a day, for three successive days… the Blood of the Gael from the Stone of Fionn (Andrew Lang. Prophecies of Brahan Seer. 1899).”

Over time, the Raven and Crow of the Celts became an evil bird. It should be no surprise then, that the Raven or Crow may also be a witch in disguise, or the devil himself. In the 1913 book Irish Witchcraft and Mythology by St. John Seymour, a witch on “the gallows” suddenly disappears. In her place is noted a coal-black Raven. In volume 2 of Popular Tales of West Highland, a “gentleman” turns himself into a Raven. The story implies that this man the Devil himself.

The Raven and Crow of the Celts often represented the darker aspects of life. It’s no wonder then, that these shadow-birds continue to fascinate our imaginations to this day. These clever birds have always seemed distinguished, compared to their less intelligent bird-cousins. Some crows even make and use tools. Both the Crow and Raven have always been seen as symbols of darkness, death, and the ignorance of the unknown. Now considered one of the most intelligent creatures on the planet, the Corvus has never given up feasting upon the dead. Good reasons that the birds continue to fascinate and intimidate us to this day.

[i] James MacKillop. Oxford Dictionary of Celtic Mythology. 2000

[ii] ibid.

[iii] Alexander Carmicheal. Carmina Gadelica – Vol IV. 1900

[iv] Lady Wilde. Ancient Legends, Mystic Charms, and Superstitions of Ireland. 1887

The Raven and Crow of the Celts – Part I: Myth and Legend

“There are about 45 species of Crow in the world known by a variety of common names, including Ravens, jackdaws and rooks.” – Candace Savage (Crows)

Both the Raven and Crow have made many iconic appearances throughout Celtic myth and legend – and later in folklore as well. In earlier times, these black birds were often believed to be aspects of the Morrigan, some other divine being, intelligent allies of the downtrodden, or hapless souls who had been transformed through foul magic. Slowly, however, these birds lost their status as divine messengers and instead became servants of the devil, representing death and dying. Truth be told however, the Crow and Raven have always symbolized death.

Lady Guest’s 1877 translation of the Mabinogion is a collection of 11^th Century Welsh Tales. Within its pages Taliesin claims:

“I have fled in the semblance of a crow, scarcely finding rest.”

In the ‘Notes’ section of the Mabinogion, Lady Guest says that in some versions of the tale of Owain, the hero has “an army of Ravens.” W. Y. Evans-Wentz elaborates further in his 1911 book Fairy Faith in Celtic Countries. He claims that Owain had a Crow, “which always secured him victory in battle.” This avian champion did so with the aid of 300 other black-plumed Crows.

In Charles Squires 1905 Celtic Myth and Legend Gwynhwyvar’s father Ogyrvan’s (ocur vran) name meant “Evil Bran or Raven,” which was “the bird of death.” Within the text we’re also told that Bran’s (Bran the Blessed) name meant Raven. Bran is said to be the “Celtic Hades,” or god of the Underworld.

According to John Rhys in Celtic Folklore: Welsh and Manx, in Cornwall, it was believed that Arthur did not die in battle at all. Instead, he was turned into a Raven, which was “a form in which he still goes about.” For this reason, the author claimed that even to that day – the year being 1900 – that a Cornishman would not willingly fire upon a Raven.

The Raven and the Crow were aspects of the Morrigan in Ireland. The Morrigan was sometimes seen as a trio of goddesses whose names were Macha, Babd and Namain[i]. These “war goddesses” often took on the form of the black bird[ii]. In Lady Gregory’s 1904 Gods and Fighting Men the Morrigan is sometimes called “the Crow of Battle” or the “Battle Crow.” In Charles Squires’ 1905 Celtic Myth and Legend it’s said that:

“Wherever there was war, either among gods or men, she, the great queen, was present, either in her own shape or on her favorite disguise, that of a hoodie or carrion crow. An old poem shows her inciting a warrior: Over his head is shrieking, A lean hag, quickly hopping, Over the points of the weapons and shields, She is the grey-haired Morrigii!”

Raven and Crow of the Celts — Cuchulain with Raven. Joseph Leyendecker. 1911

Cuchulain – along with many other heros in Irish myth – was followed by the Goddess Morrigan in her Raven form his whole life. When he did eventually die, “a crow comes and perches upon his shoulder[iii].”

In the 1902 Cuchulain of Muirthemne by Lady Gregory, one of the daughters of the evil Irish druid Calatin appears to Cuchulain in the form of a Crow. Having been influenced by the Morrigan herself, she does this in order to lure Cuchulain into battle.

In Lady Gregory’s retelling of the 12^th Century Tain, we’re also told that Cuchulain said after killing his own son:

“I am a Raven that has no home.”

George Henderson in Survival in Belief amongst Celts – published in 1911 – says that the famous bull[iv] also found in the Tain Bo had at one point taken many other forms including that of the Raven.

In J.F. Campbell’s 1890 Popular Tales of the West Highlands we’re told that a “Ravan was the son of the King of Lochlin.”

Not every Raven is black, however. The Tuatha De Danann queen Eriu (Erin[v]) is described in Lady Gregory’s Gods and Fighting Men:

“In the one moment she would be a wide-eyed most beautiful queen, and in another she would be a sharp-beaked, grey-white crow.”

Over time, many other cultures and religions influenced and shaped the beliefs of the Celts. The old gods became fairies and devils, and in turn the Raven and Crow of the Celts became the never-tiring pawns of Satan. Next week, we’ll continue our exploration of these birds in The Raven and Crow of the Celts – Part II: Fairytales and Folklore.

[i] This third name is not always consistent and the three in one aspect is not always agreed upon. Oxford Dictionary of Celtic Mythology. James MacKillop.

[ii] Ibid.

[iii] Celtic Myth and Legend. Charles Squire. 1905.

[iv] The bull’s name is Donn Cualnge.

[v] Eriu, or Erin, is one of the three queens in which Ireland was named after.

*Layendecker image: Myths and Legends of the Celtic Race. T.W. Rolleston. 1911

*Friedrich image: http://centuriespast.tumblr.com/post/9566090200/caspar-david-friedrich-the-woman-with-the-raven

Ailm (Fir or Pine) II

“And King Guaire followed him there and asked him to come back where he could sleep upon a bed and not be laying his head upon a hard fir tree in the night time. But Marbhan would not leave the place he had chosen, for he said he was well content with the little cabin he had in the wood, and that no one had knowledge of except God.” – Lady Gregory (A Book of Saints and Wonders. 1906)

The Roots:

The sixteenth letter of the Ogham is Ailm. In its tree form this is Scotch Fir or Scots Pine.

There is a lot of confusion as to which tree should be assigned to Ailm. The Ogham tract says that it is the “Fir” tree. The Fir tree is also listed within the tract as a possible choice for Gort, the Ivy, as well. Robert Graves named the tree representing Ailm as the Silver Fir based on this mentioning of the Fir tree within the text[i]. This choice is often accepted as being correct.

The first Silver Fir, however, is not believed to have been introduced into neighbouring Scotland until 1603[ii]. One of the places the Ogham Tract appears is within the Book of Ballymote which is believed to have been written around 1390[iii]. Before the 18^th century the Scots Pine was also known as Scotch or Scots Fir[iv] so the mention of the “Fir” within the Ogham Tract is most likely a reference to the Pine[v]. The Scots Pine is native to the British Isles and would have been better known in Ireland. Pine is also mentioned within the Ogham tract, but various names for the same tree are found for other letters as well. For example the Yew is also the Service Tree, Blackthorn is also Sloe, and Quicken is also the Rowan. In J.F. Campbell’s 1890 book Popular Tales of the West Highlands vol.1 we are also told that a Fir cone grows into a Pine tree. It is likely that both Pine and Fir refer to the Scotch Fir or Scots Pine interchangeably.

Firs and Pines -as well as Spruces, Cedars and others- are part of the same family known as Pinaceae. These conifers share a prehistoric heritage as members of the first trees growing in many areas upon the land of our planet. The close relation -and primordial ancestry- make them more akin to one another than many other types of trees.

The kenning for this letter speaks of the “loudest of groaning.” John Mathews in the Celtic Shaman interprets this as meaning “misery.”

Robert Ellison in Ogham: Secret Language of the Druids says that this letter represents being “far seeing and knowing the future.” Ellison uses the Silver Fir to represent Ailm in the Robert Graves tradition. Ellison also calls the Fir the “oldest in the forest.”

Caitlin Mathews in Celtic Wisdom Sticks lists a number of important attributes for the Fir tree. Within her divination system Ailm represents nobility, judgement, investment and patience. The general theme seems to be wisdom and clarity.

The Trunk:

The conifers -being the trees of the ancient forest- do seem to reach out to us in the form of the Cailleach, the hag or crone aspect of the goddess that speaks to us from the times immemorial. These trees, the Pine, Spruce or Fir, are strong and green even in the midst of winter and were in fact some of the very first trees to climb out of the oceans[vi].

Contrary to what I had said in the previous Fir and Pine post, this tree does make several appearances in Celtic myth and folklore. It is usually associated with fairies or giants.

In the 1917 book Wonder Tales from Scottish Myth and Legend by Donald Mackenzie we are told of two fairies that live in the Fir woods. Interestingly, both of these fairies are described as being “fairy exiles.” The Ghillie Dhu is described as the “dark servant.” The second fairy is simply called “the dummy” and lives beneath a cairn in a Fir wood. Despite being exiles, both of these fairies are friendly and helpful.

In the 1881 book Notes on Folklore of the North-East of Scotland by Walter Gregor we are told of a botched fairy raid. The fairies had intended on stealing a smith’s wife but were “sained” and disaster was avoided. The family found an image of the smith’s wife that was left behind by the fairies. This image had been made from Fir wood and was left behind when the fairies fled.

In Celtic folklore the lines between the fairies and the dead often becomes very blurred[vii]. In the 1914 book True Irish Ghost Stories by John Seymour and Harry Neligan we find an interesting, though only peripherally related, reference to Fir:

“A gentleman […] often received warnings from his dead father of things that were about to happen. Besides the farm on which he lived, he had another some miles away which adjoined a large demesne. Once in a great storm a fir-tree was blown down in the demesne, and fell into his field. The wood ranger came to him and told him he might as well cut up the tree, and take it away. Accordingly one day he set out for this purpose, taking with him two men and a cart. He got into the fields by a stile, while his men went on to a gate. As he approached a gap between two fields he saw, standing in it, his father as plainly as he ever saw him in life, and beckoning him back warningly. Unable to understand this, he still advanced, whereupon his father looked very angry, and his gestures became imperious. This induced him to turn away, so he sent his men home, and left the tree uncut. He subsequently discovered that a plot had been laid by the wood ranger, who coveted his farm, and who hoped to have him dispossessed by accusing him of stealing the tree.”

(Hollyburn Fir, BC. The tree is 43 metres in height and believed to be 1100 years old[viii])

In the 1892 book Celtic Fairy Tales by Joseph Jacobs we are given a much more poetic image of the Fir. It should be noted, however, that the type of tree stated here does change from one recount of this myth to another. It is not always Fir:

“The king ordered the body to be raised from out the grave and to be buried on the other side of the loch. It was done as the king bade, and the pit closed. Thereupon a fir shoot grew out of the grave of Deirdre and a fir shoot from the grave of Naois, and the two shoots united in a knot above the loch. The king ordered the shoots to be cut down, and this was done twice, until, at the third time, the wife whom the king had married caused him to stop, this work of evil and his vengeance on the remains of the dead.”

Fir is also often associated with giants. In the same text as above, Finn carves a staff out of Fir for his journey home to see his wife. His wife then tricks a rival giant into not wanting to fight Finn.

In the 1773 book Scottish Fairy and Folktales by Sir George Douglas a giant magician takes on the form of a Fir tree standing on a road.

Also found within Celtic Fairy Tales, a “king’s son” needs to climb a Fir tree described as “the greatest tree in the wood” in order to steal 5 magpie eggs for the meal of a certain giant. He needs to do this in order to win the giant’s daughter as his bride. Unfortunately, the tree is 500 feet tall and as smooth as glass. The giant’s daughter tells the king’s son to kill her and use her bones as a ladder so that he can climb the tree:

“Now you must kill me, strip the flesh from my bones, take all those bones apart, and use them as steps for climbing the tree. When you are climbing the tree, they will stick to the glass as if they had grown out of it; but when you are coming down, and have put your foot on each one, they will drop into your hand when you touch them. Be sure and stand on each bone, leave none untouched; if you do, it will stay behind. Put all my flesh into this clean cloth by the side of the spring at the roots of the tree. When you come to the earth, arrange my bones together, put the flesh over them, sprinkle it with water from the spring, and I shall be alive before you. But don’t forget a bone of me on the tree.”

Of course the king’s son forgets one of the daughter’s fingers in the tree. This results in her having only nine fingers. This later becomes an advantage, however, when he has to choose her out of three identical sisters!

The Foliage:

In the 1881 book Notes on Folklore of the North-East of Scotland by Walter Gregor we find a ritual where Fir is used to protect an infant from the fairies:

“On the birth of the child, the mother and offspring were ‘sained’, a ceremony which was done in the following manner: A fir-candle was lighted and carried three times round the bed, if it was in a position to allow of this being done, and, if this could not be done, it was whirled three times round their heads; a Bible and bread and cheese, or a Bible and a biscuit, were placed under the pillow, and the words were repeated, ” May the Almichty debar a’ ill fae this umman, an be aboot ir, an bliss ir an ir bairn.” When the biscuit or the bread and cheese had served their purpose, they were distributed among the unmarried friends and acquaintances, to be placed under their pillows to evoke dreams.”

This is immediately followed by:

“Among some of the fishing population a fir-candle or a basket containing bread and cheese was placed on the bed to keep the fairies at a distance.”

This “fir candle” is elsewhere described in the text as being made from thin strips of bog fir “one to two and a half or three feet long.” This candle was fixed in a type of candle stick called a peer man. This peer man could be of various forms but a common one is described in the text. The stone is round and a three foot piece of wood is placed in it. On top of the piece of wood is a piece of iron on which the Fir candle would be fixed “with the flame towards the door[ix].”

“Said Father Winter: ‘If Beira scolds you, give her these flowers[x], and if she asks where you found them, tell her that they came from the green rustling fir-woods. Tell her also that the cress is springing up on the banks of streams, and that the new grass has begun to shoot up in the fields.’ Having spoken thus, Father Winter bade the princess farewell and turned away.” – Donald MacKenzie (Wonder Tales of Scottish Myth and Legend. 1917)

[i] The White Goddess.

[ii] http://www.forestry.gov.uk/forestry/INFD-6UEJ3L

[iii] Oxford Dictionary of Celtic Mythology. The Book of Leinster was written even earlier around 1160.

[iv] Firefly Encyclopedia of Trees.

[v] Eryn Rowan Laurie in Ogam: Weaving Word Wisdom, says that Fir and Pine seem interchangeable within the Ogham tract text, most especially the Irish word gius which seems to apply to them both. Her statement seems to support my belief that this was and still is the same tree.

[vi] For more on the Cailleach please refer to the previous Fir and Pine post at https://livinglibraryblog.com/?p=208

[vii] Katherine Briggs. The Fairies in Folklore and Tradition.

[viii] http://www.canada.com/business/Discover+Hollyburn+Canada+ancient+natural+wonder/7013925/story.html

[ix] The meaning of this last phrase does not appear any clearer within the book. The text does say that the iron was “cleft,” however. Perhaps the author meant that the Fir candle was placed at a 90 degree angle and would have been burned horizontally?

[x] These are earlier identified as snowdrops within the text.

Ruis (Elder) II

“The soul of the dead was believed to pass into the tree. Herbs and flowers were fabled to grow from the blood of the dead and so to re-embody his spirit.” – George Henderson (Survivals in Belief Amongst Celts. 1911)

The Roots:

The fifteenth letter of the Ogham is Ruis, the Elder tree.

Most of the kennings, or word-Oghams, refer to the colour red[i]. For this reason, many Ogham users associate this letter to emotions or passion.

John Mathews in the Celtic Shaman interprets the phrase “strongest red” as being related to “anger.”

Caitlin Mathews likewise suggests that the kennings speak of “the blush of shame” and of “anger.” In Celtic Wisdom Sticks she says that the Elder is a tree of “endings and completions.” Caitlin Mathews reminds us that the tree is one of the better known fairy trees and as such can be very unlucky.

In Ogham: the Secret Language of the Druids, Robert Ellison also lists the kennings. Instead of anger or passion, however, Ellison equates the “red” to the dye that is made from the berries. The association that Ellison has for this letter relates to the “entrance to the Otherworld and dealings with the fair folk.” Elder, he says, can also be used for protection against evil and witches.

Besides being a magical tree, the Elder has many medicinal uses. In folklore, we are told that it is the fairies that grant the trees these healing attributes.

The Trunk:

In Christian folklore, the Elder tree is often associated with evil. Apparently, this is because it was the Elder tree from which Judas Iscariot hung himself[ii].

The tree was not always evil to the Christians, however. In George Henderson’s 1912 work Survivals in Belief Amongst Celts we are told of a parish priest who came back reincarnated as an Elder tree.

Most of the negative encounters with the Elder occur only after the tree has been cut without permission from the fairies. An example of this can be found in the 1887 book Ancient Legends, Mystic Charms, and Superstitions of Ireland by Lady Wilde.

“At Toome Island there is the ruin of an ancient church, where the dead walk on November Eve. It is a solemn and sacred place, and nothing is allowed to be taken from it; neither stone nor branch of the shadowing trees, for fear of angering the spirits. One day three men who were on the island cut down some branches of an elder-tree that grew there to repair a private still, and carried them off in their boat; but then just close to the shore a violent gust of wind upset the boat, and the men were drowned. The wood, however, floated back to the island, and a cross was made of it which was erected on the beach, to commemorate the fate of the doomed men.”

In W.Y. Evans-Wentz’ 1911 book the Fairy Faith in Celtic Countries we discover that the fairies were believed to inhabit Elder trees on the Isle of Man. This was likely a belief shared throughout the Celtic territories and not just on the Isle of Man. Lady Wilde seems to confirm this by relaying that the tree is in fact sacred and one of “the seven great fairy herbs of power.” This common belief would seem like reason enough not to nonchalantly cut off the tree’s branches.

(Hans Baldung. Witches. 1508)

There are many stories, however, in which the Elder tree was used to an advantage without ever having been asked first. In J.F. Campbell’s 1890 encyclopaedia Popular Tales of the West Highlands we are given the examples of an Elder club and of an Elder shinny stick. The users of these items appear unscathed.

Lady Wilde also shares the story of a magical butter churning dash made from Elder:

“One day while churning, the handle of the dash broke, and nothing being near to mend it, one of the brothers cut off a branch from an elder-tree that grew close to the house, and tied it to the dash for a handle. Then the churning went on, but to their surprise, the butter gathered so thick that all the crocks in the house were soon full, and still there was more left. The same thing went on every churning day, so the brothers became rich, for they could fill the market with their butter, and still had more than enough for every buyer.

“At last, being honest and true men, they began to fear that there was witchcraft in it, and that they were wronging their neighbours by abstracting their butter, and bringing it to their own churn in some strange way. So they both went off together to a great fairy doctor, and told him the whole story, and asked his advice. ‘Foolish men’ he said to them, ‘why did you come to me? For now you have broken the spell, and you will never have your crocks filled with butter any more. Your good fortune has passed away, for know the truth now. You were not wronging your neighbours; all was fair and just that you did, but this is how it happened. Long ago, the fairies passing through your land had a dispute and fought a battle, and having no arms, they flung lumps of butter at each other, which got lodged in the branches of the elder-tree in great quantities, for it was just after May Eve, when butter is plenty. This is the butter you have had, for the elder-tree has a sacred power which preserved it until now, and it came down to you through the branch you cut for a handle to the dash. But the spell is broken now that you have uttered the mystery, and you will have no more butter from the elder-tree.’

“Then the brothers went away sorrowful, and never after did the butter come beyond the usual quantity. However, they had already made so much money that they were content. And they stocked their farm, and all things prospered with them, for they had dealt uprightly in the matter, and the blessing of the Lord was on them.”

The moral of the story here doesn’t seem to be not to harm the Elder tree, but instead comes across as a suggestion to count your blessings and keep your mouth shut.

The Elder tree’s leaves can also be used as a type of talismanic magic against evil “witches and sorcery.” In the Folk-Lore of the Isle of Man, for example, Elder can be used to “protect houses and gardens” as this quote illustrates:

“Its leaves, like those of the Cuirn, were picked on May-eve, and affixed to doors and windows to protect the house from witchcraft.”

The Foliage:

There are several spells found within Celtic folklore in which the Elder tree is a chief component. The following two examples are taken from Ancient Legends, Mystic Charms, and Superstitions of Ireland by Lady Wilde:

“For epilepsy take nine pieces of young elder twig; run a thread of silk of three strands through the pieces, each piece being an inch long. Tie this round the patient’s neck next to the skin. Should the thread break and the amulet fall, it must be buried deep in the earth and another amulet made like the first, for if once it touches the ground the charm is lost.”

If a curse or “evil spell” is cast upon an individual, then the Elder tree can be used as part of the remedy. To do this, one is to take the roots of an Apple tree – that produces red apples – and the roots of an Elder tree. These should be boiled together. The person that intends to drink this should have fasted beforehand. When drank, the potion is said to “expel any evil living thing or evil spirit that may have taken up its abode in the body of a man.”

“I have been a circumference, I have been a head. A goat on an elder-tree. I have been a crane well filled, a sight to behold.” – W.F. Skene translation (Book of Taliesin. 1858)

[i] http://www.maryjones.us/ctexts/ogham.html

[ii] A.W. Moore. Folk-Lore of the Isle of Man. 1891.

Ngetal (Reed Grass) II

“When a cow hesitates to cross, the person driving her throws a stalk or a twig into the ditch before the unwilling animal and sings the ‘Feith Mhoire,’ Vein of Mary, to encourage her to cross, and to assure her that a safe bridge is before her. The stalk may be of any corn or grass except the reed, and the twig of any wood except the wild fig, the aspen, and the thorn. All these are forbidden, or ‘crossed’ as the people say, because of their ungracious conduct to the Gracious One. The reed is ‘crossed’ because it carried the sponge dipped in vinegar; the fig-tree because of its inhospitality; the aspen because it held up its head haughtily, proud that the cross was made of its wood, when all the trees of the forest–all save the aspen alone–bowed their heads in reverence to the King of glory passing by on the way to Calvary; and the thorn-tree because of its prickly pride in having been made into a crown for the King of kings.” – Alexander Carmichael (Carmina Gadelica Vol. II. 1900)

The Roots:

The thirteenth letter of the tree-Ogham is Ngetal, or Reed. Reed is the most common association for this letter. Ngetal may also be found as Broom or Fern, however.

Within the previous Ngetal post, we discovered that Reed was a neopagan addition to the Ogham[i] and not the original association to the letter at all! Reed, as a choice for this letter, was first promoted within Robert Graves’ the White Goddess. Liz and Colin Murray later adopted Graves’ interpretation for Ngetal -as the Reed- within the Celtic Tree Oracle. Most neopagan users of the Ogham today can trace their information on the Ogham directly to these two sources. As a result, Reed is the most common interpretation for Ngetal.

The more academic users of the Ogham – as far as authenticity – usually interpret Ngetal as the Broom plant or the Fern. This is indisputably more accurate. For the purposes of this blog, however, I will cover the Reed in the sections below. As far as the Broom, we will cover it four weeks from now when we take a look at the Gorse. The reasons for this will be explained at that time. I have no plan to research the Fern; at least not at this time.

John Mathews, Caitlin Mathews, Eryn Rowan Laurie and Robert Elison are all examples of individuals who approach the Ogham from a historical or reconstructionist perspective. Liz and Colin Murray, John Michael Greer, Jacqueline Memory Paterson, Nigel Pennick and many other individuals on the other hand, come from the neopagan background as far as the Ogham. This second group tends to also believe in the Tree Calendar[ii].

John Mathews interprets the Ngetal word-Ogham, “physician’s strength,” as meaning “healing.” As we covered previously, the word-Oghams are phrases or sayings found within the Ogham Tract alongside each of the trees[iii]. John Mathews interprets many of these kennings within his book the Celtic Shaman.

Robert Elison says that Ngetal represents “working and tools” within his book Ogham: the Secret Language of the Druids. Elison also says that the Broom has long associations to healing, as well as being used as a magical tool.

In Celtic Wisdom Sticks, Caitlin Mathews says that the word-Oghams for Ngetal are very “obscure” but that they all seem “to stem from an older Irish word to do with wounding.” Caitlin Mathews’ system of divination seems to use both wounding and healing as possible interpretations for Ngetal.

Ngetal represents healing and sometimes wounding. These interpretations are take-aways from the Ogham Tract and should not be seen as having any direct relationship to the Reed found within Celtic mythology or folklore. The Reed is never even mentioned within the text[iv]!

The Reed was a Robert Graves invention. If we intend on using the Reed plant to represent Ngetal, then we should at least be aware that it is not authentic. This is especially important because the Ogham is a symbol of a real living people and not some abstract idea taken from a book.

The Irish and other Celts suffered many generations of persecution and ethnocide. As a result, much of the past has been lost. There are many who now struggle to reclaim what has been lost or forgotten to bring things back into balance. These are the reconstructionists.

The neopagans choose, on the other hand, to use the original Ogham as inspiration for their own belief systems and not as a fixed system. The following look at the Reed, found within Celtic folklore, will cater more to this second group.

The Trunk:

The Reed of Celtic folklore possess various Otherworldly attributes. It is usually found to be either a weapon or a musical instrument. The Reed is almost always used by spirits or fairies and not by humans.

In fact, the Reed was often a symbol of evil in folklore. As the opening quote revealed, the Reed was considered to be one of the plants that had betrayed Jesus at the time of his execution. We can only assume, then, that the Reed would possess great power in the hands of the godless.

In the case of the Cluricaune found in Thomas Crofton Crocker’s 1825 Fairy Legends and Traditions of South Ireland, the Reed was an aid to flight. The Cluricaune – who was similar to the leprechaun – would ride the Reed stalk in the same way that the stereotypical witch would ride a broom.

In the 1899 book the Prophecies of Brahan Seer by Alexander Mackenzie, the Reed begins to take on a more sinister use:

“Some years ago, if not even still, many in the Western Isles believed in the existence of the ‘Gruagach,’ a female spectre of the class of Brownies to which the Highland dairymaids made frequent libations of milk. The Gruagach is said to have been an innocent, supernatural visitor, who frisked and gambolled about the cattle-pens and folds. She was armed only with a pliable reed, with which she switched all who annoyed her by uttering obscene language, or would neglect to leave for her a share of the dairy produce. Even so late as 1770, the dairymaids who attended a herd of cattle in the Island of Trodda, at the north end of Skye, were in the habit of pouring daily a quantity of milk on a hollow stone for the Gruagach. Should they neglect to do so, they made sure of feeling the effects of her wand the next day.”

The following Scottish lowland fairy is found in the 1870 book Fairy Mythology of Various Countries by Thomas Keightley. This fairy sounds considerably more ruthless than the Gruagach:

“They carry quivers of ‘adder-slough,’ and bows made of the ribs of a man buried where three lairds’ lands meet; their arrows are made of bog-reed, tipped with white flints, and dipped in the dew of hemlock; they ride on steeds whose hoofs would not dash the dew from the cup of a harebell. With their arrows they shoot the cattle of those who offend them; the wound is imperceptible to common eyes, but there are gifted personages who can discern and cure it.”

The snake-slough quiver holds these poison arrows constructed from Reed grass. In this case, the Reed has come to represent more than just punishment but death itself; at least to the cow.

(Vipera Berus – Common European Adder. Photo by Marek Szczepanek[v])

Not only a weapon however, the Reed is sometimes found to be connected to music. The following story predates folklore, coming instead from the age of legend. It is found within the 1900 book Celtic Folklore: Welsh and Manx. (Vol. I ) by John Rhys[vi]. The story has many similarities with the Irish tale the King with the Horse’s Ears found in other texts[vii].

“One of Arthur’s warriors, whose name was March (or Parch) Amheirchion \ was lord of Castetlmarch in ILeyn. This man had horse’s ears (resembling Midas), and lest anybody should know it, he used to kill every man he sought to shave his beard, for fear lest he should not be able to keep the secret; and on the spot where he was wont to bury the bodies there grew reeds, one of which somebody cut to make a pipe. The pipe would give no other sound than ‘March Amheirchion has horse’s ears.’ When the warrior heard this, he would probably have killed the innocent man on that account, if he had not himself failed to make the pipe produce any other sound. But after hearing where the reed had grown, he made no further effort to conceal either the murders or his ears.”

In this tale the Reed can only produce the music of truth. The irony is, of course, that the dead are telling the one secret that they had been killed for knowing in the first place. As they say: the dead tell no lies. In this story, the Reed is connected to music and to the dead.

In the Fairy Faith in Celtic Countries by W.Y. Evans-Wentz we find another example of Reed’s connection to magical music[viii]:

“Bean chaol a chot uaine ‘s na gruaige buidhe, ‘ the slender woman of the green kirtle and of the yellow hair,’ is wise of head and deft of hand. She can convert the white water of the rill into rich red wine and the threads of the spiders into a tartan plaid. From the stalk of the fairy reed she can bring the music of the lull of the peace and of the repose, however active the brain and lithe the limb; and she can rouse to mirth and merriment, and to the dance, men and women, however dolorous their condition. From the bower could be heard the pipe and the song and the voice of laughter as the fairies ‘ sett ‘ and reeled in the mazes of the dance. Sometimes a man hearing the merry music and seeing the wonderful light within would be tempted to go in and join them, but woe to him if he omitted to leave a piece of iron at the door of the bower on entering, for the cunning fairies would close the door and the man would find no egress. There he would dance for years—but to him the years were as one day—while his wife and family mourned him as dead.”

In this case, ‘the slender woman fairy’ enjoys a wide range of possible uses for her Reed pipe. She can both “rouse” and put to sleep. With the Reed in hand, she is as powerful as the bards of old.

The Reed in folklore and mythology is a plant both respected and feared.

The Foliage:

The Reed does not seem to appear directly, as an herb, within any of the traditional folkloric spells. It can be used, however, in any binding or braiding spell. The Reed is also associated with music.

The following passage is from Lady Wilde’s 1887 text Ancient Legends, Mystic Charms, and Superstitions of Ireland:

“Before an accident happens to a boat, or a death by drowning, low music is often heard, as if under the water, along with harmonious lamentations, and then every one in the boat knows that some young man or beautiful young girl is wanted by the fairies, and is doomed to die. The best safeguard is to have music and singing in the boat, for the fairies are so enamoured of the mortal voices and music that they forget to weave the spell till the fatal moment has passed, and then all in the boat are safe from harm.”

In this instance, music is a means of repelling the negative magic of the fairy kingdom. It does not seem to matter, either, what type of music it is, or even if its good music at all. The key is, simply, to make music in order to survive.

Although there does not seem to be any Celtic spells regarding the Reed, there is one Danish spell, found in Fairy Mythologies of Various Countries, that does contain a Reed spell. In it, a nail is placed inside of a Reed which is then placed inside of a boat[ix]. This is to protect the boat from a river spirit who is called “the Neck.” The Neck can often be seen singing and playing the harp. Like the Celtic fairies, the Neck seems to have a repulsion of iron.

The Neck has a connection to both music and water, much like the Reed itself.

“Frail is the reed, of riches an emblem.” – Red Book of Hergest (1382-1410)

[i] In its tree form.

[ii] The Tree-Calendar was a poetic argument put forward by Robert Graves within the White Goddess. Graves argued that the Ogham – in its tree form- could actually be a calendar with various trees representing each month; for example Birch for January, Rowan for February and Alder for March. Graves then put forward an argument as to why each tree represented that particular month based on observations of nature and various mythological references. Unfortunately, Graves may not have known that the Celtic New Year began at Samhain, modern Halloween, and did not begin the year at the same time as our modern calendar. The Ogham was created and used during a far earlier period. Liz and Colin Murray tried to rectify this error within the Celtic Tree Oracle by moving the trees to new months such as Birch for November. While it made more sense on one hand, as far as tradition and accuracy, all of Robert Graves’ arguments for why each tree represented each particular month were destroyed. Some neopagans do continue to promote the Tree-Calendar for various reasons.

[iii] http://www.maryjones.us/ctexts/ogham.html

[iv] ibid

[v] Photo from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Vipera_berus_(Marek_Szczepanek).jpg

[vi] John Rhys gives a reference for this story as being the 1860 Brython. This text in turn gives a 1693 source.

[vii] Patrick Kennedy’s 1891 book Legendary Fictions of the Irish Celts is one such example. These stories differ in that the instrument is a harp made from a tree such as a Willow instead of a Reed. There are also other differences.

[viii] This sample was actually written by Alexander Carmichael and is attributed to him in the book. The exact quote also appears word for word in the Carmina Gadelica vol. II.

[ix] Thomas Keightley. 1870.

Gort (Ivy Vine) II

“Like all evergreens, the ivy is immortality and eternal life; it is also revelry; clinging dependence; attachment; constant affection; friendship.” – J.C. Cooper (An Illustrated Encyclopedia of Traditional Symbols. 1979)

The Roots:

The twelfth letter of the Ogham, in its tree form, is Gort the Ivy-plant. Though clearly not a tree, the Ivy has come to represent this letter of the Ogham alphabet. Ivy is listed as one of the “tree” choices within the Ogham Tract[i]. According to this text, Gort can just as likely be represented by grass, green pastures, corn, or corn fields.

Robert Ellison in Ogham: the Secret Language of the Druids reminds us that Gort does literally mean “field.” In fact, the letter has been interpreted as representing grazing fields. For this reason, there are many different interpretations as to the exact meaning of Gort as it pertains to the tree-Ogham. Ellison says that this letter represents to him “the search for yourself and inner wisdom.”

John Mathews in the Celtic Shaman states that the word-Ogham phrase “sweetest of grasses” can be interpreted, or solved, as meaning “satisfaction.”

In Celtic Wisdom Sticks, Caitlin Mathews elaborates on the meanings that are associated with Ivy, as well as to those associated with the letter Gort. She begins by reminding us that grazing fields would have been incredibly important. In almost all of the Celtic literature, a person of wealth is measured by the size of his or her herd, or ability to produce milk or grains. The cattle that were seen to be a part of this wealth would have needed fields in which to graze. The association between Gort and wealth then becomes apparent.

There are some other important characteristics that Caitlin Mathews reminds us of in Celtic Wisdom Sticks. She tells us that the Ivy’s berries are poisonous, for example. She also says that Ivy is a symbol of the feminine, while Holly is contrarily the symbol of the masculine.

In Caitlin Mathews’ system of divination, the letter Gort does have a common association with wealth. In this way, she shares a similar view with the other Ogham writers already mentioned above.

Ivy can have various interpretations, though. Ivy, or Gort, can mean separate things to different students of the Ogham. This is due to the fact that we are actually dealing with two separate concepts; or so it would seem.

The Trunk:

For the time being, for clarity’s sake, we will view the letter Gort and the Ivy plant as two distinctive and separate things. In order to examine the Ivy plant more closely, we need to remove the established associations for Gort, as far as “field or corn” for example, from this equation. Once we understand the Ivy plant more clearly, then we can look at Gort with clearer eyes.

The reason that there is so much confusion is that some of the users of Ogham are interpreting the meaning of “field” or “pasture” when they are speaking of Ivy. Others, contrastingly, seem to be talking about the Ivy plant itself, ignoring the references to fields and pastures. As a result, interpretations usually become somewhat hybrid-like and are a combination of the two fields of view.

Instead of drawing a line down the middle and trying to explain why various interpretations do exist, and where they came from in certain cases, I will instead focus exclusively on what the Ivy plant represents within Celtic literature. If it seems to the fellow Ogham enthusiast that I am leaving out much of what this Ogham letter has come to represent, then this is the reason. I believe that by understanding Ivy (which is clearly what Ogham users now equate Gort to) in its cultural context, that we will then be able to view this letter with a little more clarity.

If this need for distinction isn’t confusing enough, the Ivy plant that does appear within Celtic literature seems to possess two different faces as well. On the one hand, it is often associated with poverty, decay, and ruin. The Ivy, somewhat contradictive, can also be found within folklore to be a powerful magical herb.

Ivy representing decay and poverty does make sense. The vine is quick to claim abandoned ruins and gardens, it is abundant and often invasive, has been known to kill trees that it grows upon, and seems emblematic in stories of hauntings.

The following is taken from Wirt Sikes’ 1881 classic British Goblins[ii] for example:

“There is a Glamorganshire goblin called the Green Lady of Caerphilly, the colour of whose dress is indicated by her title. She haunts the ruin of Caerphilly Castle at night, wearing a green robe, and has the power of turning herself into ivy and mingling with the ivy growing on the wall.”

I have already discussed, previously[iii], how Ivy is often found in ruins covering doorways to the fairy kingdom. In this previous post, I questioned whether or not the appearance of Ivy in certain places might indicate a type of magical power instead of just being descriptive filler within the story? Perhaps, I wondered, the Ivy plant was a bridge to the Otherworld, similar to the Hawthorne tree? Regardless of what the answer to this question might be, it is undeniable that Ivy is mentioned as being found in abandoned sites in several stories.

Ivy’s connection to poverty and ruin is not always in relation to actual ruins, however. Sometimes Ivy is directly related to the loss of money. In the 1914 text Irish Witchcraft and Demonology, John Seymour tells us of one man’s encounter with a fairy that left him in a state of poverty. This man, of humble means, sold his horse – at a tough bargain one might add – to a stranger upon the side of the road. Upon returning home, he discovered that this “gold” had turned into Ivy leaves! At that moment he then knew that it had been a fairy that had tricked him and not a man at all.

This is not a particularly unique tale either. In the1911 text Fairy Faith in Celtic Countries, W.Y. Evans-Wentz relates a similar type of occurrence:

“The peasantry in the Lough Gur region commonly speak of the Good People, or of the Kind People, or of the Little People, their names for the fairies. The leprechaun indicates the place where hidden treasure is to be found. If the person to whom he reveals such a secret makes it known to a second person, the first person dies, or else no money is found : in some cases the money is changed into ivy leaves or into furze blossoms.”

It would seem then that Ivy can represent the actual loss of wealth. Why wouldn’t the money have simply disappeared, though? Why did it have to be replaced with Ivy (or Furz)?

In the case of the horse, it would seem that the fairy initially gave something to the man that did physically exist. He gave him Ivy, instead of the money, to deceive him. There was clearly an illusion upon the Ivy leaves. In this first example, the Ivy had been an unwitting, or witting, ally in a deception designed to separate the man from his horse.

In the second example, the money seems to have actually transformed into the leaves and lost its value only because a condition was not met. By the nature of the second story, the Ivy should have always remained as wealth as long as the secret was never shared. In this case, the handsome prince – the wealth- is turned into a frog; or Ivy.

In either case the message is clear. Gold or money has wealth. Ivy is practically worthless. After all, its leaves were, and still are, incredibly commonplace.

(Cadw. Caerphilly Castle[iv])

Ivy does not always represent poverty or ruin, though. As a plant of power, Ivy can not easily be dismissed within the folklore. The previously mentioned stories may be merely relaying how worthless the currency had become, and not have anything do with Ivy’s magical powers at all. That does not mean that in the right hands these leaves would not perhaps possess great power. Perhaps, like many of the other great Celtic stories, there are multiple meanings at play? The horse owner loses both his horse and his gold, for example, and yet unwittingly holds in his hand great power or a symbol that does not now seem very clear to us.

Regardless of these possible hidden meanings, Ivy does have associations to poverty and ruin. This is only half of the story of Ivy however. As already mentioned, Ivy can be a powerful force as well.

Ivy is also found in the stories to be one of the fairy herbs of “great value and power.” As one of these power herbs, Ivy is listed alongside vervain, eyebright, groundsel, foxglove, the bark of the elder tree and the young shoots of the hawthorn[v].

In the previous Gort post, I shared the story of the Fairy Dance found in Ancient Legends, Mystic Charms, and Superstitions of Ireland, by Lady Wilde which originally published in 1887. In this story, a girl is protected from harm by some Ivy that was received from a friendly fairy. Although it is unclear as to what would have happened to her without this protection, it does become obvious that the other fairies in the story wish her harm. The Ivy protects her and the girl escapes.

Ivy’s protective properties are spoken of in various other texts as well. In the Carmina Gadelica vol. II, for example, we are informed that Ivy was sacred to the Celts and had various uses. It was “protective” of milk, dairy products, herds, flocks, and was used by lovers as “an emblem of fidelity.” Ivy was also used in conjunction with Rowan and bramble for protection against witches and evil spirits[vi].

In Fairy Legends and Traditions of the South of Ireland published in 1825, Thomas Crofton Croker describes a separate ceremony that seems to further shed some light onto the mysterious powers of the Ivy plant:

“On the east coast of Scotland, the people resort to a peculiar method to avert the danger. During the month of March, when the moon is on her increase, they cut down branches of oak and ivy, which are formed into garlands, and preserved till the following autumn. If any one of the family should grow lean, or a child pine away, they must pass three times through this wreath.”

As a final example to illustrate the Ivy’s value as a magical plant, there is also a story found in J.F. Campbell’s 1890 text Popular Tales of the West Highlands vol. IV:

“A boy, some hundreds of miles away, told me that there was a man who built a house, and as often as it was built it was burned down; but they told him to put a bit of ivy into it[vii], and he did that, and the house was not burned that time.”

While one can easily note that the passage is relaying second hand information, it does illustrate once more the powers that were believed to be possessed by the Ivy plant. In this case Ivy protects the house from fire.

In Celtic folklore Ivy represented poverty and ruin, but was also an herb of great power.

The Foliage:

According to Robert Ellison, because of Ivy’s “tenacity to cling to walls,” it is a perfect component in binding and friendship spells.

Ivy was more than just a magical herb, however. It is sometimes mentioned as a means of divination as well. In Traditions and Hearthside Stories of West Cornwall published in 1870, William Bottrell tells us that Ivy was used by girls to scry into the future. This was a means by which they could discover the identity of their future husbands.

In the 1891 book Folklore of the Isle of Man, A.W. Moore gives a more specific example of divination using Ivy leaves.

“On the eve of new year’s day,” which was originally October 31^st, Ivy leaves were put into a bowl to predict the coming year. There would only be one Ivy leaf in the bowl for every member of the family. Each of these leaves would be marked with a symbol or the name and each represented a separate individual. The leaves were then left in the bowl overnight. In the morning, if a leaf was found to have become withered, it would mean that person was going to die that year.

The Ivy plant could also see into the future.

“He staggered on under the weight of the corpse until he reached Kiltown Abbey, a ruin festooned with ivy, where the brown owl hooted all night long, and the forgotten dead slept around the walls under dense, matted tangles of brambles and ben-weed.” – W.B. Yeats (Fairy and Folktales of the Irish Peasantry. 1888)

[i] http://www.maryjones.us/ctexts/ogham.html

[ii] “Despite the title, this book is actually a study of Welsh fairy folklore.” Sacred-Texts.com

[iii] https://livinglibraryblog.com/?p=166

[iv] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Caerphilly_aerial.jpg

[v] Ancient Legends, Mystic Charms, and Superstitions of Ireland. Lady Wilde. This does not appear in the 1887 edition.

[vi] Alexander Carmichael. 1900.

[vii] It is not clear in the text who “they” are. The passage most likely refers to the fairies, but could have also been referring to the neighbours.