Originally published in Saint Pauls (Virtue and Co.) vol.3 #15 (Dec 1868).
Among the literary treasures of Jesus College, Oxford, is a casket containing a folio volume of manuscript, handsomely bound in red morocco, with old-fashioned clasps to correspond. Written in the Welsh language, its contents are of an exceedingly varied, and even nondescript character. As to its precise age no two critics exactly agree, though their differences are, after all, not very considerable. According to M. Hersart de la Villemarqué, who, after the manner of his nation, is somewhat dogmatical, it was begun in 1318 and finished in 1454. With almost equal preciseness Mr. Edward Jones assures us that the folio volume in question was transcribed about the year 1450 from an ancient MS. called Llyvr Hergest, by Llwelyn Glyn Cothi, the bard of Jasper, Earl of Pembroke. A more trustworthy authority, however, Mr. Edward Llwyd, is content with the comparatively vague statement that it was written about the end of the fourteenth century. In fact, it is simply a compilation of historical, poetical, and romantic specimens of Welsh literature, ranging from the middle of the sixth century down to the latter half of the fourteenth, and was evidently transcribed at different periods.
This very remarkable compilation contains, among other curious stories, the Ystoria Dared, or the History of the Trojan War, by Dares Phrygius; the Brut y Brinhinned, or Chronicles of the Kings of Britain, from the landing of Brutus, the grandson of Ascanius, to the death of Cadwaladr, a.d. 688; the Brut y Tywysogion, or Chronicles of the Princes of Wales; the Lamentations over the Britons, by Gildas; the Names of the Welsh Cantreds and Commots; the Ystoria Charlymaen, or the History of Charlemagne, translated from the Latin by Madawg Selyf; Delw y Byd, a translation of Henry of Huntingdon's "Imago Mundi;" a Chronology from the time of Adam to a.d. 1318; Cato Cymraeg, or Cynghor y Doeth I'w Fab, a Father's Advice to his Son; Chwedyl y Seithnyn Doeth, or Tale of the Seventeen Wise Men, by Llewelyn Offeiriad; Breuddwyd Rhonabwy, or Dream of Rhonabwy; Prophwydoliaeth Sibli Ddoeth, or Prophecies of Sibil the Wise, a daughter of Priam, by Hecuba; Cyfoesi Myrddin a Gwenddydd ei Chwaer, or a Dialogue between Merlin,—Sylvester,—and his sister,—apparently composed towards the close of the tenth century, and consequently not the production of Merlin himself, as sometimes supposed;—a passage from St. Augustin's writings concerning the "tewdwr," or thickness of the earth; Prophwydoliaeth yr Eryr Ynghaer Septon, or Prophecy of an Eagle, &c.; Enwen y Tri Dynion a Gawsant Garmpeu Adda, or Names of Taree Men who equalled Adam in Wisdom, and of Three Women who equalled Eve in Beauty; Pan Aeth Llu y Llychllyn, or Succours sent to Norway;—Arthur's Death and Burial; Trioedd Ynys Brydain, or Triads of the Islands of Britain; Trioedd y Meirch, or of three remarkable horses; Enwen Ynys Brydain a'i Rhagynysodd, or Names of the Cities, Rarities, &c., of Britain, and the adjacent Islands; Ystoria Chyarlys, or the History of Charlemagne's fabulous journey to Jerusalem and Constantinople; Chwedyll Iarlles y Ffynnawn, or Story of the Lady of the Fountain; Ystori Peredur ab Erfrawe, or History of Peredur, the son of Evrawe; Breuddwyd Maxen Wledig, or Dream of the Emperor Maximus; Cyfrunge Lludd a Liefelys; A Mabinogi, or Juvenile Tale in four parts, namely, Pwyll Pendevig Dyved, Bronwen verch Llyr, Manawyddan vab Llyr, and Math vab Mathonwy; Ystori Gereint ab Erbin; Ystori Kulhwch ab Kelydd; Ystori Bown o Hampten, a Welsh version of Sir Bevis of Southampton; a History of two of Charlemagne's Knights, Amlyn and Amlyc; the Brut y Saeson, or Saxon Chronicle; and a Collection of Welsh Proverbs and Welsh Minstrelsy, including the best authenticated poems of Taliesin and Llywarch Hên.
Many of these pieces are avowedly translations from the Latin and Romance languages, but others are evidently of pure Cymric origin, and abound with allusions to incidents and characters familiar to the bards of Arthur's time. Ritson, indeed, denies the originality of Welsh romance, and maintains that whatever tales of chivalry exist in that tongue were borrowed from the Normans or Provençals, though he appears to entertain some doubt as to whether the story of Owain ab Urien may not be genuinely Welsh. Not very much attention, however, need be paid to the opinions of this dogmatic critic, who asserts that the oldest metrical romance of which anything is known is the Chanson de Roland, chanted by Taillefer at the battle of Hastings. He further declares that the Welsh were indebted to Geoffrey of Monmouth for the groundwork of their prose literature, thus reversing the order of things, and deriving the fountain from the stream. In the course of the same dissertation he relates how Robert de Thornton translated the Morte d'Arthur and "Percyvall of Galles" from the French, in the reign of Henry VI., and expresses his belief that the adventures of "Ywain and Gawin" were first rendered into English under Richard II. This may possibly have been the case, but there is at the same time strong evidence in favour of the Cymric origin of the latter two. The Morte d'Arthur, indeed, is probably a Breton romance, and therefore Welsh only in the second degree, but few would now question the Welsh paternity of "Perceval le Gallois," of the "Chevalier au Lyon," or of "Erec et Enide." A much higher authority than Ritson has said, "There is no absurdity in supposing that the scenes and characters of our romantic histories were very generally, though not exclusively, derived from the Bretons or from the Welsh of this island; that much of the colouring, and perhaps some particular adventures may be of Scandinavian origin, and that occasional episodes, together with part of the machinery, may have been borrowed from the Arabians."[1] In the same spirit Signor Panizzi admits in his fine preface to Ariosto that "all the chivalrous fictions since spread throughout Europe appear to have had their birth in Wales."
It must not be forgotten, however, that the term "Welsh" had originally a far wider signification than it afterwards obtained. It was applied by the Saxons on their first settlement in Thanet to the inhabitants of the rest of the island, much as the Greeks designated as barbarians those who spoke a different tongue to themselves. The word itself means "foreigners," and is equivalent to the Chinese expression of "outside barbarians." Welsh literature, therefore, was not confined to the mountains of Wales. For two centuries after the Saxon invasion, the Britons of Cornwall, Devon, Cambria, the north of England, and far into the interior of Scotland, spoke the same language, and were bound together by the ties of race and affinity. Llywarch Hèn, for instance, was the Bard of Urien, of Rheged, whose territories lay chiefly in Cumberland, and yet he is usually celebrated as one of the most eminent Welsh bards. This Cumbrian prince, the brother-in-law of Arthur, was likewise the patron of Taliesin, though the latter is better known in connection with the misfortunes of Elphin, whose principality is said to have occupied the site of the present Bay of Cardigan. Be this as it may, it is certain that in the sixth and seventh centuries of the Christian era the culture of the ancient Britons was far more advanced than writers of the Ritson school appear to be aware, and from this island letters and the romance of chivalry passed over into Armorica, the Bretagne of the French. That the Britons were a polished people as compared with the early Normans is distinctly stated in Basnage's "Coutoumier," in which we read that Rollo held out every inducement to the Bretons to settle among his people in order to civilise and refine them. In addition to this, we have the direct testimony of Giraldus Cambrensis, and of William of Malmesbury, to the existence in their time of Cambrian histories, genealogies, and tales, which the successors of the bards had committed to writing, though in simple prose, the rhythm being no longer needed to aid the memory. Henry II., we are told, took, or affected to take, great pleasure in listening to these romantic histories,—the Plantagenets generally being favourably disposed towards the Welsh minstrels, who pretended that Merlin had predicted the coming of the Normans to avenge upon the Saxon oppressors the wrongs done by them upon the vanquished and suffering Britons.
In a happy hour Lady Charlotte Elizabeth Guest was moved to render into English a dozen of the most striking romances contained in the Llyfr Coch o Hergest,—the Red Book of Hergest. It is to be regretted, indeed, that the translation is somewhat too free and grandiloquent, nor is the title of "Mabinogion" quite suitable to the entire collection. The word signifies Juvenile Tales, or Juvenile Instruction, referring, of course, to high-born youths, who alone were thought worthy of account in those days. In the Red Book only four tales are comprised under the collective title of "Mabinogi," namely, Pwyll, Prince of Dyved or Demetia; Bronwen, daughter of Lear; Manawyddan, the son of Lear; and Math, the son of Mathonwy. Of the others, two are devoted to the exposition of the dreams of Rhonabwy and the Emperor Maximus; four are narratives of adventures encountered by Knights of Arthur's Court,—to wit, the Lady of the Fountain; Peredur, the son of Evrawc; Gereint, the son of Erbin; and Kulhwch and Olwen; the story of Liud and Llevelys; and, lastly, the comparatively modern history of Taliesin and Elphin. We commence with the four Arthurian romances.
The Iarlles y Ffynnawn, or Lady of the Fountain, is clearly the groundwork of Chrestien de Troyes' metrical romance,—the Chevalier au Lyon,—which was subsequently turned into English under the tile of Ywayne and Gawin, and republished by Ritson. This Ywayne, the Sir Ivain of the French romance writers, is identical with Owain ab Urien, Prince of Rheged, while Gawin is the Gwalchmai ab Gwyar of the Welsh bards, by whom he is characterised as "the honey-tongued." Gwalchmai, which is by interpretation "the Hawk of Battle," was first latinised into Walganus and Walweyn, and thence corrupted into the French Gawain. Queen Guenever appears under her original appellation of Gwenhwyvar, though it is impossible to tell to which of Arthur's three queens,—who all went by that name,—allusion is here made. According to the Triads, the "blameless king" did not keep himself altogether unspotted from the world, for, in addition to his three wives, he is said also to have had three mistresses. Another of the characters in this tale is the damsel Luned, whose ring,—which had the property, when the stone was turned inward, of rendering the wearer invisible,—is enumerated by Mr. Edward Jones among the Thirteen Curiosities of the Island of Britain, which Merlin is supposed to have carried off to Bardsey Island. The similarity of this ring with that of Gyges has more than once been pointed out. The second Arthurian romance, that of Peredur, the son of Evrawe, is remarkable as having originated the interminable history of the Quest of the Sangreal. The authentic "Peredur of steel arms," is celebrated by Aneurin among the heroes who fell at the battle of Cattraeth, about the middle of the sixth century. The French version was commenced by Chrestien de Troyes at the request of Philip of Alsace, Count of Flanders, and contains many more incidents than are to be found in the original. There is also a prose history of the Très Preulx et Vaillant Cheuallier Perceual le Galloys Jadis Cheuallier de la Table R[o]de, closely copied from the preceding, but terminating differently. In the latter, Perceval succeeds to the priceless possessions of his uncle, "le roy Peschor,"—the fisherman king,—which consisted of the Saint Greal, the Holy Lance, and the "digne tailloir darg[e]t," which appears to refer to another of the Thirteen Curiosities,—the knife of Llawfrodded Farchawg,—which would carve for four-and-twenty guests at the same time. The last years of his life were spent by this favoured knight in prayer and penance, no food passing his lips save what was spontaneously supplied by the Saint Greal; and, when at last he died and was buried, the following epitaph was placed over his head:—"Cy gist Perceual le Galloys, qui du Sainct Graalles aduentures acheva.," This prose narrative appeared about the year 1529, whereas the metrical romance begun by Chrestien de Troyes, and continued by Gauthier de Denet, was completed by Manessier about the close of the twelfth century. It was divided into fifty-one chapters, and contains some 50,000 lines. In the English romance,—transcribed, if not translated, by Robert de Thornton, a monk of the fifteenth century, and the only copy of which now extant is preserved in the library of Lincoln Cathedral,—Perceval is described as nephew to Arthur by his sister Acheflour, and rescues and marries Lafamour, Queen of Maidenland. The story was early rendered into German from the French by Wolfram von Eschenbach, but differs considerably from the Welsh original, in incidents, as well as in names. There is also an Icelandic Saga dedicated to the adventures of this paragon of knights.
The Welsh paternity of this remarkable romance is easily traceable. The Saint Greal of the French copyists is the cup that was used at the Last Supper, and which Joseph of Arimathea brought over into Britain filled with the blood of the Saviour, as it poured from the wound inflicted by the spear of the Roman soldier Longus. This cup subsequently disappeared, and could only be seen by a knight of faultless conduct, and him it provided with all manner of things good to eat and drink. In the German story this cup was a diamond which fell from Satan's crown when the archangel was worsted in fight by St. Michael. It was afterwards hollowed into the shape of a cup by the angel who comforted the Saviour in the garden of Gethsemane with the nectar of heaven. It then passed into the hands of Joseph, and so came into the possession of his descendant, the Roi Pêcheur. Every year, on Good Friday, a white dove descended from on high, and deposited in the cup a consecrated wafer. By Taliesin, however, the Gradal, or Graal, is described as a large shallow dish, which had the property of inspiring poetic genius, wisdom, and knowledge of the future and of all mysteries. Its rim was adorned with a row of pearls and diamonds. More simply, this basin was a divining cup of the Druids, and disappeared with Merlin. Peredur's name, curiously enough, signifies in Welsh the Companion of the Basin, and, as already stated, he was a friend and contemporary of Aneurin, whose identity with Gildas is generally recognised. The bleeding lance was also a Bardic symbol subsequent to the Saxon invasion, and betokened undying hatred to those usurpers. The true meaning of this legend was naturally lost upon Chrestien de Troyes, whose ingenuity was exerted to convert a graceful myth into a ridiculous romance.
The third story is that of Gereint ab Erbin, a chieftain of Dyvnaint, who fell at the disastrous battle of Llongborth, and was afterwards canonised. The "Erec et Enide" of Chrestien de Troyes is a tolerably close adaptation of this beautiful tale, except that the hero is the son of King Lac, and imposes upon himself an adventurous career as a penance for his indolence, but without having any suspicion of the truth and loyalty of Enide. From the French it was rendered into German, and thence into Icelandic. In more modern times the genius of Tennyson has invested the loving and devoted character of Enid with an interest which no cultivated mind would care to criticise too closely. For the rest, the Laureate has copied almost verbally the Welsh narrative of the adventures of the "tributary prince of Devon" and the beautuous daughter of Earl Yniwl.
The fourth story is in many respects unique. It is entitled "Ystori Kulhwch ac Olwen, nei Hanes y Twrch Trwyth," that is, the history of Kulhwch and Olwen, or the Twrch Trwyth. The precise meaning of this extravaganza, if it ever had any, is not very easy to decipher. Of its purely British origin, however, there can be no question. To this day numerous hills, rivers, and dales in Wales are associated with the leading incidents and characters mentioned in this wild and incomprehensible legend. It is a singular, and even monstrous fiction, and must have sorely taxed the memories of its reciters. A dim outline is all that we can pretend to trace.
Kelydd, son of Prince Kelyddon, took to wife Goleuddydd, daughter of Prince Anlawdd.. This princess, having conceived, became insane, and wandered about over the mountains. As her time approached she fell in with a herd of swine, when the terror caused by these animals restored her to her mind, but hastened the birth of a son, who was christened Kulhwch, because found in a sow's burrow. Some time afterwards Goleuddydd fell sick, and on her death-bed forbade her husband again to marry until he should see upon her grave a briar with two blossoms, at the same time exacting from him a promise that he would not allow anything to grow there. For seven years the princely widower was true to his pledge, sending every morning one of his followers to root up whatever green thing showed itself above the surface. At the end of that period, however, he became somewhat remiss, so that, passing his wife's grave one day while out hunting, he observed a briar in full blossom. Thereupon he resolved to seek another wife, and with that view invaded the territory of King Doged, whom he put to death, and whose wife and daughter he carried off into captivity. The latter became his consort, and after atime learned from an old crone that the prince had not only been previously married, but had a son alive and grown up. Upbraiding her husband for his want of faith in her affection, she sends for her stepson, and tells him that it is his destiny to espouse Olwen, daughter of Yspaddaden Penkawr. "And the youth blushed, and the love of the maiden diffused itself through all his frame, although he had never seen her." His sire accordingly sent him to Arthur's court, bidding him to require of the king that he should cut his hair, and thereby adopt him as his godson. His mother, Goleuddydd, it seems, was half-sister to Arthur's mother, the fair Eigr or Ygraine, and, consequently, the youth was entitled to claim kindred with the hero.
Gallantly equipped, and armed with two spears "headed with steel, three ells in length, of an edge to wound the wind and cause blood to flow," Kulhwch arrived at Arthur's palace and demanded admittance, which was at first- flatly refused. "The knife is in the meat, and the drink is in the horn, and there is revelry in Arthur's hall," replied the porter; "and none may enter therein but the son of a king of a privileged country, or a craftsman bringing his craft." The stranger is assured, however, that abundant provision shall be made for his horse and his hounds, and that he himself shall be entertained with "collops cooked and peppered, and luscious wine, and mirthful songs;" and, moreover, that "a lady shall smooth thy couch and lull thee with songs." But Kulhwech treats this tempting offer with contempt, and threatens, if the door be not instantly opened, to utter three such dreadful shouts that every woman with child shall miscarry, and all others remain barren for ever. This calamity is averted by Arthur's courtesy, who bids the porter admit the stranger, and sets before him skewered collops and drink until dinner can be got ready for him.
Kulhwch then rides into the hall, and declines to sit down, but begs of the king to bless his hair. "And Arthur took a golden comb and scissors, whereof the loops were of silver, and he combed his hair." On the completion of that ceremony, Kulhweh reveals his name and lineage, and asks of Arthur the hand of Olwen, at the same time praying each of his knights by name to aid in the enterprise. To many of these knights very marvellous attributes are ascribed. One possessed a short, broad dagger of such virtue, that when Arthur's army was stopped in its march by a ravine, it was laid across in its sheath, and all passed over. Another would enter a town, and though it might contain three hundred houses, he would let no man sleep until he had obtained what he wanted. A third, when sent upon a message, would run over the tops of the trees, his step being so light that "during his whole life a blade of reed-grass bent not beneath his feet." A fourth, being in Cornwall, could see a gnat rise in the morning with the sun far away in the north of Britain. A fifth could stand all day upon one foot, and never weary. A sixth, as he hurried along, struck sparks of fire with his feet from the hard rocks. A seventh could suck up a sea in which three hundred ships were afloat, and of him it is remarked that "he was broad-chested." An eighth, when sad, let his lower-lip drop below his waist, while he turned his upper-lip over his head like a cap. Another would spread his red, untrimmed beard over the eight-and-forty rafters of Arthur's hall. Yet another, though buried seven cubits underground, could hear an ant, fifty miles off, rise from her nest in the morning. Then, Bedwyr or Bedivere, though one-handed, had a lance which was as fatal as nine ordinary lances. Menw was skilled in glamour, and could make himself and companions invisible, while they themselves saw plainly. Gwalchmai never commenced an adventure that he did not accomplish. Another knew every tongue that was spoken upon earth; while Kai could go nine days and nights without closing his eyes, besides being able to elongate himself to the height of the tallest trees, and a wound inflicted by his sword was incurable.
All these doughty warriors readily promise to give their aid, but at the end of twelve months the affair remains where it was. No one had ever heard of Olwen, or knew aught of her existence. Thereupon Kulhwch flies into a furious passion, and threatens to proclaim to all the world the pusillanimity of Arthur and his knights. This sally produces the desired effect. A party of six at once set forth, and after encountering many adventures, familiar to readers of chivalric romances, at last discover and penetrate into the castle of Yspaddaden Penkawr. There they beheld Olwen, "clothed in a robe of flame-coloured silk, and about her neck was a collar of ruddy gold, on which were precious emeralds and rubies. More yellow was her head than the flower of the broom, and her skin was whiter than the foam of the wave, and fairer were her hands than the blossom of the wood anemone amidst the spray of the meadow fountain. The eye of the trained hawk, the glance of the three-mewed falcon, was not brighter than hers. Her bosom was more snowy than the breast of the white swan; her cheek was redder than the reddest roses. Whoso beheld her was filled with her love. Four white trefoils sprang up wherever she trod. And therefore was she called Olwen."[2]
Yspaddaden, on being invited in Arthur's name to cede his daughter in marriage to Kulhwch, refuses to do so, even should the suitor succeed in performing all the impossible feats which are prescribed as proofs of his sincerity. The most arduous enterprise of all was to get possession of the comb and scissors that were between the ears of Twrch Trwyth, son of Tared. This Twrch Trwyth was a fierce boar that had ravaged a large portion of Ireland, and which, being pursued by Arthur's host, swam across St. George's Channel, devastated Wales, slew the mightiest warriors that opposed him, and finally rushed into the sea from the coast of Cornwall, after losing its seven piglings one by one. Kulhwch, of course, ultimately wins the hand of Olwen, and her father is beheaded, after having his cheeks sliced off.
The Dream of Rhonabwy comes next in order. Having laid himself down upon a piece of yellow calf-skin on the dirty floor of a filthy hovel, Rhonabwy dreams that he is conducted to Arthur's presence by Iddawe Cordd Prydain, the false knight who brought on the fatal battle of Camlan by falsifying Arthur's loving messages to his nephew Medrawd. Seven years of penance at last won Iddawe pardon and peace. When Rhonabwy and his two companions appeared before Arthur, "the Emperor smiled," and said,—"It pitieth me that men of such stature as these should have this island in their keeping, after the men that guarded it of yore."
The sixth story is entitled, Pwyll Pendevig Dyved, or Pwyll, Prince of Demetia. After certain preliminary adventures Pwyll marries Rhiannon, who, in due time, is delivered of a male child. While the mother slept, the attendant women, forgetful of their duty, also indulged in sleep, and on awaking missed the babe. To conceal their remissness they killed some staghound cubs that were in the apartment, and smeared Rhiannon's face and hands with blood, strewing her couch also with small bones from which the flesh had been cut away. They then accused her of having eaten her own child, and the people demanded that she should be put to death. Pwyll, however, spared her life; but enjoined as a penance that she should sit all day on the horse-block at the door of the palace, and carry in upon her shoulders whoever should please to command her services. This incident, by the way, somewhat reminds one of Dr. Dasent's Norse tale of "The Twelve Wild Ducks."
One of Pwyll's dependants was the lord of Gwent Is Coed, who owned a mare of extraordinary power and beauty. On the eve of every May-day this mare brought a foal into the world, which disappeared before the dawn. So at last the valiant knight resolved to watch over the mare himself. At the usual hour the noble animal produced her foal, and while the knight was admiring its strength and stature, a monstrous claw was thrust through the window, and grasped the foal by the mane. In an instant the knight's falchion severed the arm in twain, and a loud moaning was heard. He rushed out,—
"Deep into the darkness peering,
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token."
Returning to the door, he beheld upon the threshold "an infant boy in swaddling clothes, wrapped around in a mantle of satin." At the end of four years he recognised the child's likeness to Pwyll, and took him to hie parents, who gave him the name of Pryderi, which signifies care or anxiety. This is the first portion of the tale called "Mabinogi" in the Red Book of Hergest.
The second portion relates how Bronwen, or "the white-bosomed," daughter of King Lear, and sister of Bendigeid Vran, or Bran the Blessed,—so called because he introduced Christianity into this island,—was wooed and won by Matholwch, king of Ireland. That chieftain, however, avenged upon Bronwen an affront he had received from her brother Eonissyen, and made her cook for the court, the butcher boxing her ears every day after cutting up the meat. The unhappy queen, after enduring these insults for three years, reared a starling in her kneading-trough, and after teaching the bird what manner of man was her brother Bran, wrote a letter and concealed it under one of its wings. The starling found out Bran, and, ruffling its plumage, disclosed the letter. A fleet was forthwith equipped, and the warriors of the Island of the Mighty were rapidly conveyed across the waters. Bran himself was of such Titanic mould that he waded across the channel. The Irish fled from the giant to the other side of a river, at the bottom of which was a loadstone, so that no ship could float on the surface. Bran, however, overcame this difficulty by lying down across the river, and his army marched over his body as over a bridge. Peace was therefore made, but with treacherous designs on the part of the Irish; and on their disloyalty being discovered a dreadful contest ensued. For a time the Irish seemed likely to gain the victory through the marvellous properties of a cauldron which Bran had formerly presented to Matholwch. Whatever dead men were thrown into it in the evening were fit to bear arms on the morrow, though speech was denied them. Eonissyen, seeing this, threw himself down among the enemy as if he were dead, and was picked up by two "unshod Irishmen" and thrown into the cauldron, when, stretching himself out to his full length, he rent it into four pieces, but burst his own heart. In the end, Bronwen also died of a broken heart. Of the Irish only five women survived, all of whom were safely delivered of sons; and these, on arriving at maturity, married each a comrade's mother, and founded a kingdom. On the part of the conquerors others still remained, but Bran had been wounded in the foot by a poisoned arrow. He therefore bade his seven associates cut off his head, and bury it beneath the White Mount in London, facing towards France. So long as that head was left undisturbed, no foreigners dared to set foot in Britain; but Arthur had it taken up, because he scorned to hold the island by other aid than that of his own good sword.
Of the third portion of the "Mabinogi," which relates to Manawyddan, the son of Lear, it is needless to say more than that it describes a series of magical illusions, through which the seven Cantrevs of Dyved appear to turn into thickets infested by wild beasts, and Pryderi and Rhiannon are retained in bondage for awhile. As a tale of magic the story of Manawyddan vab Llyr is perhaps the best in the whole collection, though not so wonderful or so varied in its details as the fourth and concluding portion, entitled "Math, the son of Mathonwy," a translation of which appeared in "The Cambrian Quarterly Magazine and Celtic Repository," vol. i., 1829.
The Breuddwyd Maxen Wledig tells how the Emperor Maximus when out hunting in the neighbourhood of Rome, attended by thirty-two kings, his vassals, was overcome by sleep, and saw in a dream his future Empress, Helen Luyddawg, or Helen of the Mighty Hosts, In due time he discovers the fair one in the Isle of Anglesea, and tarries seven years in Britain making roads and building castles. During his absence, however, an usurper establishes himself on the throne; and Maximus, after subduing France, Burgundy, and all other intermediate lands, sat down before the walls of Rome for a whole year. Suddenly a mighty host arrived to his aid under the command of Helen's brother, and stormed the city while the Romans were engaged with their midday meal. After this exploit the greater portion of this valiant army settled in Armorica, having first exterminated the men and cut out the tongues of the women, lest they should corrupt their pure British speech.
One of the most extravagant stories translated by Lady Charlotte Guest is the Gyfrane Lludd a Lleuelis. Lludd was the brother of Cassibelaunus, and founded Caerlud, the modern London, and placed his brother Llevelys, or Lewis, upon the throne of France. At that time the island of Britain was tormented by three plagues. The first was that of the Coranians,[3] who knew everything and heard every word that was said, so that they got the better of everybody. The second was a shriek on May Eve so fearful that the leaves fell from the trees, the men lost all strength and vigour, and the women were stricken with sterility. The third affected the king rather than the people. No matter what amount of provisions was stored away in the king's courts, in the course of a single night the whole supply disappeared.
Distracted by these national and private woes, Lludd crossed the channel to consult his brother. To baffle the prying Coranians the brothers conversed through a long brass horn, after pouring some wine into it to drive out a demon who distorted their words. Llevelys then gave Lludd some insects which he was to bruise into water, and having called all his people together, was to sprinkle them with the mixture. This was done, and the Coranians were all killed. The shriek, it seems, was caused by two dragons that fought every May Eve over the central spot of the island. This turned out to be Oxford, and there Lludd prepared a huge cauldron of mead, which he covered over with a piece of satin. The next May Eve, in the course of their contest, the dragons tumbled into the cauldron, and, drinking up all the mead, fell fast asleep. In that condition they were put into a stone chest, and buried deep underground at Dinas Emrys, where unhappily they were discovered and released by Merlin. Had they been allowed to remain there undisturbed, the Saxons would never have held the mastery in Britain. The third plague was as easily overcome, though with greater personal peril. Having caused a grand banquet to be prepared, Lludd dismissed his attendants and kept vigil all alone. To shake off the drowsiness that oppressed him, by reason of songs and other fascinations, he got into a vessel of cold water which he provided for the purpose through his brother's foresight. At length, when the night was far advanced, a man in armour and of gigantic proportions entered the apartment with an enormous hamper on his shoulders. Into this he packed away not only the viands, but also the dishes and goblets, and whatever else had been placed upon the table. But as he was about to depart with his plunder, Lludd emerged from his bath and gave battle. The giant was of course overcome, and the island was freed from its three plagues.
The last of Lady Charlotte Guest's translation, the "Hanes Taliesin," has evidently been written at two widely different times. The introduction is probably modern,—that is to say, it was written in the fourteenth century; while the poetic pieces that are inserted date back some hundreds of years previous to that date. It may here be mentioned that the more ancient portion was translated by Dr. Owen Pughe, and published in the "Cambrian Quarterly." Taliesin is an historical character, and flourished about the middle of the sixth century. The story is to the following effect:—
Ceridwen, the goddess of Nature, desired to boil the cauldron of "Awen," or Inspiration, for the benefit of one of her sons who was hideously ugly. The mixture must boil for a year and a day, in order to obtain the three blessed drops. Gwion Bach and the blind Morda were instructed to watch the cauldron, stirring it from time to time, and supplying fuel to the flames, while Ceridwen busied herself in culling rare herbs. One day, towards the end of the year, three drops spurted out on Gwion's finger, which he hastily applied to his lips to allay the pain. The future was revealed to him, and he knew that Ceridwen was his mortal enemy. The cauldron at the same moment burst, and its contents were spilt upon the ground, and, running into a stream hard by, poisoned the horses of Gwyddno Garanhir. Then Gwion fled far away, pursued by Ceridwen. When he changed into a hare, she became a greyhound bitch; when he turned into a fish, she turned into an otter; when he rose into the air as a bird, she soared aloft as a hawk; when he suddenly dropped into a heap of winnowed corn, and hid himself in the form of a grain of wheat, his persecutrix transformed herself into "a high-crested hen," and, scratching diligently, found the animated grain and swallowed it.[4] At the expiration of nine months Ceridwen was delivered of a male child so beautiful that she could not find it in her heart to kill him; so she enclosed the babe in a leathern bag and cast him into the sea on May Eve.
Now, the weir of Gwyddno Garanhir, which was situated between Dyvi and Aberystwith, was always dragged on that evening, and never yielded less than £100 worth of fish. On this occasion he presented beforehand whatever should be caught to his son Elphin, who had failed in everything he had undertaken. The weir was accordingly dragged as usual, but not a single fish was there within the nets. As Elphin was moodily departing, an attendant espied the leathern bag, and, looking into it, exclaimed, "Lo! a radiant brow!" "Taliesin let him be called," answered Elphin, for that is the meaning of the word Taliesin. The child was then lifted on his horse, and, as he rode sorrowing home, begun to console him in verses suitable to the occasion. Not unreasonably astonished at such precocity, Elphin asks him if he is a human being or a fiend; to which Taliesin replies by recounting all the transformations he had passed through since he was Gwion Bach, and convinces him that he has found a treasure more precious than ever so large a haul of fish. For thirteen years the future "King of the Bards" is nurtured by Elphin's spouse, a lady of great beauty and virtue, at the end of which period that chieftain is invited to spend Christmas-tide at the court of his uncle, Maelgwn Gwynedd. There he gives great offence by maintaining that he has the most virtuous wife and the most skilful bard in the whole world, and is thrown into prison with a silver chain round his ankle. In the end, Maelgwn Gwynedd is brought to admit the truth of his nephew's assertions, the lady and the bard triumphing over all their enemies.[5]
1. Mr. G. Ellis's Introduction to the "Early English Metrical Romances."
2. The literal meaning of the word is "white tracks," and in Welsh minstrelsy "Olwen" represents the productive power of nature.
3. These Coranians evidently allude to the Corraniaid, who came from Pwyll (Poland?), and settled to the north of the Humber.
4. How closely does all this resemble the transformations of the second Royal Calendar, who was a king's son, in the Arabian Nights.
5. A clever and amusing tale called "The Misfortunes of Elphin," and published by Mr. Hookham in 1829, embodies with much ingenuity the legends relating to that prince, and the submersion of his territories through the remissness of "drunken Seithenyn."