The Cambrian Sketch-Book Part 19

"For thee, blest maid, my tears, my endless pain, Shall in immortal monuments remain.

The image of thy death each year renew, And prove my grief, to distant ages, true."

After making a general inspection of the well, and examining the grotesque figures of animals and other works of sculpture, my friend and I paid a brief visit to the chapel over the well. During our stay there, he placed in my hand a copy of the following letter, addressed by the queen of James II., to Sir Roger Mostyn.

"SIR ROGER MOSTYN,-

"It having pleased the king, by his royal grant, to bestow upon me the ancient chapel adjoining St. Winifred's Well, these are to desire you to give present possession, in my name, of the said chapel, to Mr. Thomas Roberts, who will deliver this letter into your hands. It being also my intention to have the place decently repaired, and put to a good use, I further desire that you will afford him your favour and protection, that he may not be disturbed in the performance thereof. You may rest a.s.sured that what you do herein, according to my desire, shall be very kindly remembered by

"Your good friend, "MARY REGINA.

"WHITEHALL, _May_ 8_th_, 1687."

On leaving the chapel, I cordially thanked my friend for the information he had imparted respecting the Winifred legend; and told him, that some day I would try to make his name and his Eli Treffynnon as immortal as the saint whose history he had so eloquently told. But before my tale sees the light, my entertainer has gone to that bourne from whence no traveller returns; yet it may be,-who knows?-that his spirit still visits our world, and communes with dear ones and friends left behind.

[Picture: View of Swansea in September, 1748]

THE VISIT OF ELIDORUS TO THE FAIRY KINGDOM BENEATH THE BAY.

A short time before our visit to Swansea, wrote Giraldus Cambrensis, a circ.u.mstance worthy of note occurred in these parts, which Elidorus, a priest, most strenuously affirmed had befallen him. When a youth of twelve years, and learning his letters, since, as Solomon says, "The root of learning is bitter, although the fruit is sweet," in order to avoid the discipline and frequent stripes inflicted on him by his preceptor, he ran away, and concealed himself under the hollow bank of a river. After fasting in that situation for two days, two little men of pigmy stature appeared to him, saying, "If you will come with us, we will lead you into a country full of delights and sports." a.s.senting and rising up, he followed his guides through a path, at first subterraneous and dark, into a most beautiful country, adorned with rivers and meadows, woods and plains, but obscure, and not illuminated with the full light of the sun.

All the days were cloudy, and the nights extremely dark, on account of the absence of the moon and stars. The boy was brought before the king, and introduced to him in the presence of the court; who, having examined him for a long time, delivered him to his son, who was then a boy. The men were of the smallest stature, but very well proportioned in their make; they were all of a fair complexion, with luxuriant hair falling over their shoulders like that of women. They had horses and greyhounds adapted to their size. They neither ate flesh nor fish, but lived on milk diet, made up into messes with saffron. They never took an oath, for they detested nothing so much as lies. As often as they returned from our upper hemisphere, they reprobated our ambition, infidelities, and inconstancies. They had no form of public wors.h.i.+p, being strict lovers and reverers, as it seemed, of truth.

The boy frequently returned to our hemisphere, sometimes by the way he had first gone, sometimes by another; at first in company with other persons, and afterwards alone; and made himself known only to his mother, declaring to her the manners, nature, and state of that people. Being desired by her to bring a present of gold, with which that region abounded, he stole, when at play with the king's son, the golden ball with which he used to divert himself, and brought it to his mother in great haste; and when he reached the door of his father's house, but not unpursued, and was entering it in a great hurry, his foot stumbled on the threshold, and falling down into the room where his mother was sitting, the two pigmies seized the ball, which had dropped from his hand, and departed, showing the boy every mark of contempt and derision. On recovering from the fall, confounded with shame, and execrating the evil counsel of his mother, he returned by the usual track to the subterraneous road, but found no appearance of any pa.s.sage, though he searched for it on the banks of the river (Tawe) for nearly the s.p.a.ce of a year. But since those calamities which reason cannot mitigate are often alleviated by time, and length of time alone blunts the edge of our afflictions, and puts an end to many evils, the youth having been brought back by his friends and mother, and restored to his right way of thinking, and to his learning, in process of time attained the rank of priesthood. Whenever David II., Bishop of St. David's, talked to him in his advanced state of life concerning this event, he could never relate the particulars without shedding tears. He had made himself acquainted with the language of that nation, the words of which, in his younger days, he used to recite, which, as the bishop had often informed me, were very conformable to the Greek idiom. When they asked for water, they said, "Ydor ydorum," which meant, bring water; for "ydor," in their language, signifies water, and dwr also, in the British language, signifies water. When they wanted salt they said, "Halgein ydorum,"

bring salt. Salt is called halen in British.

[So far the narrative of Giraldus Cambrensis. We are happy to be able to lay before our readers some further details, hitherto unpublished, of the early life of Elidorus, and of his visits to the fairy kingdom beneath the bay.]

On the brow of Town Hill, and commanding a magnificent view of Swansea Bay, the channel, and their circ.u.mjacent coast, with the Devonian range of mountains in the distance; there stood, at the time of which we write, a small thatched cottage, with mud or clay walls, which was then occupied by Shon Gwyllt, his wife Mary, and their son John, an only child.

Shon, as had been his father and his grandfather before him, was a fisherman, which, in those times, was a highly remunerative business.

Fish of all kinds were then abundant, and they commanded a ready market.

In the bay were shoals of conger, cod, mullet, sole, whiting, and flat-fish; while, in the season, the fishermen were often fortunate enough to secure in their nets sea trout and salmon, which, for delicacy of flavour, were unequalled in the British seas and rivers, the Tawe excepted. In the Tawe salmon were as plentiful as the daisy on the verdant mead in early summer. The waters of that river then, and for several hundred years after, were as clear as the crystal dewdrops. Now it was on that delightful, that glossy and pellucid river that Shon Gwyllt plied his trade, and the sylvan groves on its banks resounded with the sound of his rich tenor voice. Shon loved a good song, and the echo of his voice in the near and distant groves had for him a peculiar charm.

We have already observed that Shon plied his calling on the Tawe. He had a horror of the sea. Upon its waters he never ventured. Nothing could induce him to join his brother fishermen in the bay. Though they often tempted him by predicting that they would certainly have a splendid haul of fish, yet the prospect of a rich reward for his labour had no influence on his mind. To their solicitation he used to reply, "The Tawe has been a good and generous parent to me, so I shall not forsake the kind and rich old mother." And Shon did not forsake her. Day after day, during the season, he might be seen with his coracle on his back, wending his way down Mount Pleasant and across the fields to the Tawe (there were no houses there then), and thence he fished up the river as far as Morriston, which at that time consisted of a few clod-built huts. It was but seldom that he ventured above that village, though occasionally, and once in a way, he fished up to Ynistawe, but never went so high up the stream as Penllwch. His aversion to Penllwch appears to have arisen from the circ.u.mstance that his cousin met with an untimely end there, and Shon dreaded to fish the deep pools under Glais, where the young man, whom he loved as a brother, was drowned.

Although Shon was pa.s.sionately fond of his trade, yet, strange to say, he was strongly opposed to his son following in his footsteps. He reasoned thus: It is an occupation in which there is a great risk of life. The fisherman has to contend with bad seasons, and occasionally fish is a drug in the market. The business is not respectable; those engaged in it are men of the lowest cla.s.s, ignorant, drunken, and improvident, living from hand to mouth, never saving a penny against a rainy day. Instead of allowing young John to accompany him, he resolved to send him to school; and to school accordingly his son was duly sent. John, however, hated school, and intensely disliked his preceptor, a dislike he gloried in exhibiting whenever an opportunity offered itself. The teacher resented the boy's conduct by the free use of the cane. In the severity of punishment he had no mercy, and to escape chastis.e.m.e.nt young Gwyllt often absented himself from school. The hours thus spent were among the happiest of his boyhood. After his father had gone, John would walk down to the Tawe, and leaping into a stranded coracle, he, with his paddle, would spend hour after hour in skimming over the waters. When he got tired, he would row to the bank, and fastening his little boat to the stake, lie down to rest. The remainder of the youth's story we shall tell in his own words, which are as follows:-

I lay me down on the banks of Tawe's crystal waters, and slept. In my sleep, behold I had a dream. In my dream or vision I saw a man approaching who was exceeding small in stature. He was clad in rich apparel, and the fastenings of his garments-which were as white as the winter's snow-were of pure gold, rubies, and other precious gems. When he came up to the place where I lay, he addressed me in the softest and sweetest voice I had ever heard, and the voice said, "Oh, youth with ruddy cheeks and curly locks, why sleepest thou, seeing it is only the third hour after the sun of thy world has pa.s.sed his meridian?"

"I sleep," I replied, "to forget the past, to drown the very thought of existence."

"With youth," said the voice, "there is nothing to regret. The days of youth are days of innocence and pleasure. Every breeze fans the flame of delight."

"But my sorrow, sweet voice, does not spring from the heart's pa.s.sion or paternal unkindness, but from stripes inflicted upon my body by a tyrannical and cruel teacher, a man who has no mercy nor kindness of heart."

"Methinks you neglect your lesson," said the voice, "and your preceptor uses the rod in order to teach you to be wise and learned."

"If that be so, I'd rather be ignorant with whole bones, than learned with the lash so frequently used on my back."

"There is a saying in your country, is there not?" said the voice, "'spare the rod; spoil the child.'"

"Yes, yes; there is such a proverb, though I believe in it not."

"What do you then believe in, my child?" asked the voice.

"I believe in gentleness and kindness. The victory that overcometh the world is love. Love will soften the hardest heart, subdue the most stubborn will, and melt the hardest natures like wax is melted in the fire."

"If you worked hard at your books, and were attentive to your lessons, your master would probably be kind to you. You should remember that youth is the time to acquire knowledge, and that its possession is one of the most pleasurable things on earth."

"Knowledge might be all you say in its favour, sweet voice, but I care not for it. One day spent on the banks of this beautiful river, or skimming on the bosom of its limpid and crystal waters in some friend's coracle, from which I often watch the finny tribe below in their plays and gambols-is better to me than a thousand anywhere else. The waters of the Tawe are to me a source of exquisite delight, an unspeakable charm.

I could gaze upon them for ever."

"Ah, comely youth," said the voice, "you speak what you know, and I must own to being charmed with your enthusiasm. You are young, and your vision is contracted. You are inexperienced; your world is bounded by the surrounding horizon. If you will come with me, I will show you fairer climes than these, more beautiful landscapes, grander hills and mountains; vales infinitely more lovely, and streamlets, brooks and rivers, which surpa.s.s in splendour and sublimity all other running waters of the world. Besides, in my country, everything is beautiful. The gold is as abundant there as are the stones on this lowland strand or on ocean's tidal sh.o.r.e."

"You have drawn, sweet voice, a charming picture of your country, but where is it? Is it an ideal or a real kingdom? If it be real, I would visit if I knew the way. Pray tell me the road which leads to a world so resplendently beautiful."

"Fair youth," said the voice, "the road is nigh thee; it is close to where thou sleepest. I will conduct thee there."

"On one condition only will I be thy companion."

"Name your condition, and if it be in my power, it shall be granted."

"That you solemnly promise to guide me back again to my own native sphere, in the event of my failing to find the way."

"Yes; I promise. Further, you shall have perfect liberty to stay, or to return to this upper world, at any time you desire. I will, too, be your companion."

"But who art thou? What, too, is thy name?"

"I am a prince of my kingdom; and my name is Tippin."

"What is your highness' position at the royal court?"

"I am chancellor of my royal master, King Penaf, the wisest and best of monarchs."

"Pray prince, is your king a giant like you?"

"In wisdom, yes. But fair youth, you should judge all men, not by their stature, but by their wise words, weighty sayings, and just decrees. The mind is the standard of man, for mind is the man. But don't let us tarry longer. Awake! awake! oh sleeper; arise from your couch of sand; let us away, for my hour of departure has come."

When I awoke, I found myself being carried through a dimly-lighted tunnel on the wings of the wind; I say on the wings of the wind for I was not conscious that any palpable substance touched my body. The further we receded from the earth, the wider and loftier became the subterranean pa.s.sage; and by means of the dim light, I discerned rocks of gold and precious stones. When we arrived at the end of the pa.s.sage, there appeared in the distance a scene which filled my bosom with wonder and admiration; never had I previously beheld such a combination of beauty.

How shall I describe it! This I cannot do, for it pa.s.ses description; far grander, infinitely grander, was the scene than anything I had ever witnessed.

In the distance were high hills and Alpine heights, plains and meads, and dells, which were covered with gra.s.s of emerald green. I could see neither sun, nor moon, nor stars; but the country was illumined by a beautiful blue soft light which was delightful, and most agreeable to the eye. Between day and night, there appeared no perceptible difference; while in those regions, summer and winter, spring and autumn, were unknown. Their year was distinguished by no seasons; they enjoyed a perpetual spring. Beautiful was their clime, exquisitely lovely was their country, singular and mysterious were the people.

As regards the climate, it had no variation. There was always there a soft, gentle, and warm breeze; which produced the most delectable sensation. This breeze appeared to possess life-giving and life-sustaining properties. When it came, as it sometimes did, in stronger currents than was generally the case, the old would repair to the mountain tops or bwllchs, and after two or three hours' stay would return to the plain strong, blooming, and hale. But more of this anon.