Mewn erthygl yn The Conversation, mae Mari Ellis Dunning yn egluro sut y cafodd miloedd eu dienyddio am ddewiniaeth ledled Ewrop, ond dim ond pump a gollodd eu bywydau yng Nghymru.
On an October’s day in 1594, Gwen ferch Ellis was led to the gallows in the middle of Denbigh town square in north Wales, and hanged. She was the first recorded woman in Wales to be executed on charges of witchcraft.
Her death stands out in the context of European history. While thousands of women – and some men – were executed for witchcraft across Scotland, England and mainland Europe between the 15th and 18th centuries, only five executions took place in Wales. Surviving records list just 35 witchcraft trials in the country, making Gwen’s case exceptional.
Little is known about Gwen’s early life, but court records paint a picture of a woman who may have stood out. In her 40s, twice widowed and childless, she was described in her indictment as a “spinster”, indicating that she made her living through spinning yarn.
Like many early modern women, she also sold salves, had a reputation for healing and charming, and had achieved financial independence through these means.
The curse
Gwen’s downfall began with a discovery at Gloddaith, the home of Sir Thomas Mostyn, a powerful landowner and justice of the peace. A charm was found written backwards and was consequently believed to have destructive rather than protective uses.
Mostyn had recently quarrelled with Jane Conwy, a gentry woman who counted Gwen as a friend. Gossip quickly connected the two, suggesting Gwen had been hired to place the charm on Mostyn’s household.
As suspicion around her grew, friends urged Gwen to run, but she refused to do so, insisting she had done nothing wrong. Whether this was pride or misplaced trust in the law, it would prove fatal.
Once suspicion took hold, several people came forward with damning stories. This enabled magistrates to build a case against her, with testimony suggesting that she was responsible for the sickness and maiming of people in her community.
Three formal indictments were laid against her. Gwen was accused of “bewitching Robert Evans by breaking his arm”, of “bewitching Lowri ferch John ap Ieuan … who had lost use of her limbs”, and of “murdering Lewis ap John by witchcraft”.
Ironically, the original charm that sparked the investigation never appeared as evidence, but it had already done its damage. It was enough to secure a guilty verdict which led to her judicial murder. Gwen was executed at a gallows erected on the spot where Denbigh library now stands.
The demon fly
Some years before her arrest, Gwen had been visited at home by bailiffs who insisted they had seen a huge black fly hovering on top of a drink of ale she had given them. The men were adamant this fly was Gwen’s devil or familiar spirit, a supernatural being which was believed to protect witches. This, they claimed, was proof she was a witch. Though familiar spirits where not a hugely prominent concept in Wales, they did begin to enter the public consciousness around the time of Gwen’s arrest.
Even so, witchcraft in Wales didn’t conform to the concept of a devil-worshipping anti-religion seen elsewhere. Instead, it was grounded in an intrinsic belief in charming, cursing, soothsaying and magic, and the ability of these things to harm and to heal.
But as a lay healer, with her own source of income, Gwen was, nonetheless, a prime candidate for accusations of witchcraft. Accusations were further supported when Catholic relics were found in her home, despite the Protestant church’s attempts to reform religion in Wales.
While Gwen’s case proves that Welsh juries were prepared to convict accused witches, the event was truly exceptional.
Cursing was most dangerous when crossing boundaries of age, gender or status. It was often a weapon of the physically or socially weaker party. Women laid curses against men, the poor laid curses against those who were more well off.
Gwen’s misfortune was to cross a social boundary. She had, allegedly, left a charm in the house of a prominent landowner and justice of the peace, rather than confining her activities to the farmers, craftsmen and yeomen of her neighbourhood.
Court records suggest the grand jury was uneasy. The indictment was marked as a “true bill”, allowing the trial to proceed. But the faint word “ignoramus” – meaning “we are ignorant of this bill” – was also scrawled on it, hinting at hesitation.
In spite of this, the Elizabethan Witchcraft Act of 1562 had made death by witchcraft a capital offence, and prosecutors were determined to set an example. Unfortunately for Gwen, her fate was sealed. Her story stands as a rare but chilling chapter in Welsh history.
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