keeping his word, and telling the truth, that he allowed him to go see
his mother as often as he wanted to do so. He even gave orders
releasing the two little men from constantly guarding him and told
them to let the lad go alone, and when he would, for he always kept
his word.
Many times did Elidyr visit his mother. By one road, or another, he
made his way, keeping himself invisible all the time, until he got
inside her cottage. He ran off, when anyone called in to pay a visit,
or when he thought his daddy, or one of the monks was coming. He never
saw any of these men.
One day, in telling his mother of the fun and good times he had in
fairyland, he spoke of the heavy yellow balls, with which he and the
King's sons played, and how these rolled around.
Before leaving home, this boy had never seen any gold, and did not
know what it was, but his mother guessed that it was the precious
metal, of which the coins called sovereigns, and worth five dollars
apiece, were made. So she begged him to bring one of them back to her.
This, Elidyr thought, would not be right; but after much argument, his
parents being poor, and she telling him that, out of hundreds in the
King's palace, one single ball would not be missed, he decided to
please her.
So one day, when he supposed no one was looking, he picked up one of
the yellow balls and started off through the narrow dark passageway
homeward.
But no sooner was he back on the earth, and in the sunlight again,
than he heard footsteps behind him. Then he knew that he had been
discovered.
He glanced over his shoulder and there were the two little men, who
had led him first and had formerly been his guards. They scowled at
him as if they were mad enough to bite off the heads of tenpenny
nails. Then they rushed after him, and there began a race to the
cottage.
But the boy had legs twice as long as the little men, and got to the
cottage door first. He now thought himself safe, but pushing open the
door, he stumbled over the copper threshold, and the ball rolled out
of his hand, across the floor of hardened clay, even to the nearly
white-washed border, which ran about the edges of the room. It stopped
at the feet of his mother, whose eyes opened wide at the sight of the
ball of shining gold.
As he lay sprawling on the floor, and before he could pick himself up,
one of the little men leaped over him, rushed into the room, and, from
under his mother's petticoats, picked up the ball.
They spat at the boy and shouted, "traitor," "rascal," "thief," "false
mortal," "fox," "rat," "wolf," and other bad names. Then they turned
and sped away.
Now Elidyr, though he had been a mischievous boy, often willful, lazy,
and never liking his books, had always loved the truth. He was very
sad and miserable, beyond the telling, because he had broken his word
of honor. So, almost mad with grief and shame, and from an accusing
conscience, he went back to find the cave, in which he had slept. He
would return to the King of the fairies, and ask his pardon, even if
His Majesty never allowed him to visit Fairyland again.
But though he often searched, and spent whole days in trying to find
the opening in the hills, he could never discover it.
So, fully penitent, and resolving to live right, and become what his
father wanted him to be, he went back to the monastery.
There he plied his tasks so diligently that he excelled all in
book-learning. In time, he became one of the most famous scholars in
Welsh history. When he died, he asked to be buried, not in the monk's
cemetery, but with his father and mother, in the churchyard. He made
request that no name, record, or epitaph, be chiseled on his tomb, but
only these words:
WE CAN DO NOTHING AGAINST THE TRUTH, BUT ONLY FOR THE TRUTH.
XIV
THE WELSHERY AND THE NORMANS
Though their land has been many times invaded, the Welsh have never
been conquered. Powerful tribes, like the Romans, Saxons and Normans,
have tried to overwhelm them. Even when English and German kings
attempted to crush their spirit and blot out their language and
literature, the Welsh resisted and won victory.
Among the bullies that tried force, instead of justice, and played the
slave-driver, rather than the Good Samaritan's way, were the Normans.
These brutal fellows, when they thought that they had overrun Wales
with their armies, began to build strong castles all over the country.
They kept armed men by the thousands ready, night and day, to rush out
and put to death anybody and everybody who had a weapon in his hand.
Often they burned whole villages. They killed so many Welsh people
that it seemed at times as if they expected to empty the land of its
inhabitants. Thus, they hoped to possess all the acres for themselves.
They talked as if there were no people so refined and so cultured as
they were, while the natives, good and bad, were lumped together as
"the Welshery."
Yet all this time, with these hundreds of strong castles, bristling
with turrets and towers, no Englishman's life was safe. If he dared to
go out alone, even twenty rods from the castle, he was instantly
killed by some angry Welshman lying in ambush. So the Normans had to
lock themselves up in armor, until they looked like lobsters in their
shells. When on their iron-clad horses they resembled turtles, so that
if a knight fell off, he had to be chopped open to be rid of his metal
clothes.
Yet all this was in vain, for when the Norman marched out in bodies,
or rode in squadrons, the Welshery kept away and were hidden.
Even the birds and beasts noticed this, and saw what fools the Normans
were, to behave so brutally.
As for the fairies, they met together to see what could be done. Even
the reptiles shamed men by living together more peaceably. Only the
beasts of prey approved of the Norman way of treating the Welsh
people.
At last, it came to pass that, after the long War of the Roses, when
the Reds and the Whites had fought together, a Welsh king sat upon the
throne of England. Henry VIII was of Cymric ancestry. His full name
was Henry Tudor; or, in English, Henry Theodore.
Among the Welsh, every son, to his own name as a child, such as Henry,
William, Thomas, etc., added that of his father. Thus it happens that
we can usually tell a man by his name; for example, Richards, Roberts,
Evans, Jones, etc., etc., that he is a Welshman.
When a Welshman went into England to live, if he were a sister's son,
he usually added a syllable showing this, as in the case of Jefferson,
which means sister's son. Our great Thomas Jefferson used to boast
that he could talk Welsh.
So the living creatures of all sorts in Wales, human beings, fairies,
and animals took heart and plucked up courage, when a Tudor king,
Henry VIII, sat on the throne.
Now it was Puck who led the fairies as the great peacemaker. He went
first to visit all the most ancient creatures, in order to find out
who should be offered the post of honor, as ambassador, who should be
sent to the great king in London, Henry Tudor, to see what could be
done for Wales.
First he called on the male eagle, oldest of all birds. Though not
bald-headed, like his American cousin, the Welsh eagle was very old,
and at that time a widower. Although he had been father to nine
generations of eaglets, he sent Puck to the stag.
This splendid creature, with magnificent antlers, lived at the edge of
the forest, near the trunk of an oak tree. It was still standing, but
was now a mere shell. Old men said that the children of the aborigines
played under it, and here was the home of the god of lightning, which
they worshiped.
So to the withered oak, Puck went, and offered him the honor of
leadership to an embassy to the King.
But the stag answered and said:
"Well do I remember when an acorn fell from the top of the parent oak.
Then, for three hundred years it was growing. Children played under
it. They gathered acorns in their aprons, and the archers made bows
from its boughs.
"Then the oak tree began to die, and, during nearly thirty tens of
years it has been fading, and I have seen it all.
"Yet there is one older than I. It is the salmon that swims in the
Llyn stream. Inquire there."
So of the old mother salmon, Puck went to ask, and this was the answer
which he received.
"Count all the spots on my body, and all the eggs in my roe--one for
each year. Yet the blackbird is older even than I. Go listen to her
story. She excels me, in both talk and fact."
And the blackbird opened its orange-colored bill, and answered
proudly:
"Do you see this flinty rock, on which I am sitting? Once it was so
huge that three hundred yoke of oxen could hardly move it. Yet, today,
it hardly more than affords me room to roost on.
"What made it so small, do you ask?
"Well, all I have clone to wear it away, has been to wipe my beak on
it, every night, before I go to sleep, and in the morning to brush it
with the tips of my wing."
Even Puck, fairy though he was, was astonished at this. But the
blackbird added:
"Go to the toad, that blinks its eye under the big rock yonder. His
age is greater than mine."
The toad was half asleep when Puck came, but it opened with alertness,
its beautiful round bright eyes, set in a rim of gold. Then Puck asked
the question: "Oh, thou that carriest a jewel in thy head, are there
any things alive that are older than thou art?"
"That, I could not be sure of, especially if as many false things are
told about them, as are told about me; but when I was a tadpole in the
pond, that old hag of an owl was still hooting away, in the treetops,
scaring children, as in ages gone. She is older than I. Go and see
her. If age makes wise, she is the wisest of all."
Puck went into the forest, but at first saw no bird answering to the
description given him.
He said to himself, "She is, I wonder, who?"
He was surprised to hear his question repeated, not as an echo, but by
another. Still, he thought it might possibly be his own voice come
back.
So, in making a catalogue, in his note book, of what he had seen and
heard that day, he put down, "To wit--one echo."
Again came the sound:
"To whit--to who, to whit--to who?" Sounded the voice.
Thinking that this was intended to be a polite question, Puck looked
up. Sure enough, there was the wise bird sitting on a bough, above
him, as sober as a judge.
"Who! did you ask?" answered Puck and then went on to explain:
"I am Lord of the Fairies in Welshery, and I seek to know which is the
most venerable, of all the creatures in the Land of the Red Dragon.
"I am ready to salute you, as the most ancient and honorable of all
living things in the Cymric realm. You are desired to bear a message
to the Great King, in London."
Tickled by such delicate flattery, and the honors proffered her, this
lady owl, after much blinking and winking, flirting, and fluttering,
at last agreed to go to King Henry VIII in London. The business, with
which she was charged, was to protest against Norman brutality and to
plead for justice.
Now this old lady-owl, gray with centuries, though she had such short
ears, kept them open by day and during the night, also, for all the
gossip that floated in the air. She knew all about everybody and
everything. From what she had heard, she expected to find the new
King, Henry VIII, a royal fellow in velvet, with a crown on his head,
and his body as big and round as a hogshead, sitting in a room full of
chopping blocks and battle axes. Further, she fancied she would find a
dozen pretty women locked up in his palace, some in the cellar, others
in the pantry, and more in the garret; but all waiting to have their
heads chopped off.
For the popular story ran that his chief amusement was to marry a wife
one day and slice off her head the next.
It was said also that the King kept a private graveyard, and took a
walk in it every afternoon to study the epitaphs, which he kept a
scholar busy in writing; and also a man, from the marble yard near by,
to chisel them on the tombs, after his various wives had been properly
beheaded.
But the owl never could find out whether these fables were wicked
fibs, or fairy tales, or only street talk.
Puck and the owl together arrived in London, at the palace, when the
King was at his dinner. The butlers and lackeys wanted to keep them
out, but the merry monarch gave orders to let them in at once. He made
the owl perch over the mantel piece, but told Puck to stand upon the
dinner table and walk over the tablecloth. The pepper box was put
away, so that he should not sneeze and the King carefully removed the
mustard pot, for fear the little fairy fellow might fall in it and be
drowned in the hot stuff.
His Majesty said that, for the time being, Puck should be the Prince
of Wales. Puck strutted about to the amusement of the King and all the
Court ladies, but he kept away from the pepper, which made his nose
tingle, and from the hot soup, for fear he might tumble into it and be
scalded. When the dessert came on, Puck hid himself under a walnut
shell, just for fun.
It would take too long to tell about all that was said, or the
questions, which the King asked about his Welsh subjects, and which
either the owl or the fairy man answered. According to Puck's story,
Wales was then a most distressful country, though the Welshery, to a
man, wanted to be good and loyal subjects of the Tudors.
Several times did Puck appeal to the owl, to have his story confirmed,
because this wise bird had lived among the Cymry, centuries before the
Normans came. The owl every time blinked, bowed, and answered
solemnly:
"To whit, to who. To whit, to who," which in this case showed that she
had learned to speak the Court language.
"Why, bless my soul, the owl speaks good Cockney Hinglish," whispered
one of the butlers, who had been born in Wales.
"Yes, but that is the proper way to address His Majesty, King Ennery
the Heighth," answered the other butler, who was a native-born
Londoner.
Puck and the owl returned to Wales. What happened after that, is the A
B C of history, that everybody knows, and for which all the Welsh
people to this day bless the Tudors, who made the Welsh equal before
the law with any and all Englishmen. Even Puck himself had never seen
anything like the change that quickly took place for the better, nor
did Queen Mab, with her wand, ever work such wonders.
It was better than a fairy tale, and the effects, very soon seen, were
even more wonderful. Down went the castles into ruins, for rats to run
around in, and wild dogs to yelp and foxes to hide in, or look out of
the casements. To-day, what were once banqueting halls are covered
with moss, and on the ground grass grows, over which sheep graze and
children play; while rooks and crows nest or roost in the tall towers.
Any Englishman's life was safe anywhere, and Wales became one of the
most easily governed countries in all the wonderful British Empire.
And in the great world-war, that even children, who read these
stories, can remember, Wales, the Land of the Free, the Home of
Deathless Democracy, led all the British Isles, colonies, islands, or
coaling stations around the wide world, in loyalty, valor and
sacrifice. And the handsome son of the King, George, the Prince of
Wales, led the descendants of Welsh archers, now called the Fusileers.
They went into battle, singing, "Old Land our Fathers before us held
so dear"; or they marched, following the band that played "The Men of
Harlech."
It is because Welsh cherish their traditions, harps, music, language
and noble inheritances, with which they feed their souls, that they
lead the four nations of the British Isles in the nobler virtues, that
keep a nation alive, as well as in the sweet humanities of the Red
Cross and in generous hospitality to the refugee Belgian. True to his
motto, "I serve," the Prince of Wales who came to see us in 1919--as
did his grandfather, whom the story-teller saw when he visited our
Independence Hall in 1860--loved to be the servant of his people.
What was it that wrought this peaceful wonder of the sixteenth
century? Was it a fairy spell magic ointment, star-tipped wand,
treasures of caves, or ocean depths? Was it anything that dragons,
giants, ogres, or even swords, spears, catapults, or whips and clubs,
or elves or gnomes could do?
Not a bit of it! Only justice and kindness, instead of brutality and
force.
XV
THE WELSH FAIRIES HOLD A MEETING
In the ancient Cymric gatherings, the Druids, poets, prophets, seers,
and singers all had part. The one most honored as the president of the
meeting was crowned and garlanded. Then he was led in honor and sat in
the chair of state. They called this great occasion an Eistedfodd, or
sitting, after the Cymric word, meaning a chair.
All over the world, the Welsh folks, who do so passionately love
music, poetry and their own grand language, hold the Eistedfodd at
regular intervals. Thus they renew their love for the Fatherland and
what they received long ago from their ancestors.
Now it happens that the fairies in every land usually follow the
customs of the mortals among whom they live. The Swiss, the Dutch, the
Belgian, the Japanese and Korean fairies, as we all know, although
they are much alike in many things are as different from each other as
the countries in which they live and play. So, when the Welsh fairies
all met together, they resolved to have songs and harp music and make
the piper play his tunes just as in the Eistedfodd.
The Cymric fairies of our days have had many troubles to complain of.
They were disgusted with so much coal smoke, the poisoning of the air
by chemical fumes, and the blackening of the landscape from so many
factory chimneys. They had other grievances also.
So the Queen Mab, who had a Welsh name, and another fairy, called
Pwca, or in English King Puck, sent out invitations into every part of
Wales, for a gathering on the hills, near the great rock called Dina's
seat. This is a rocky chair formed by nature. They also included in
their call those parts of western and south England, such as are still
Welsh and spiritually almost a part of Wales. In fact, Cornwall was
the old land, in which the Cymry had first landed when coming from
over the sea.
The meeting was to be held on a moonlight night, and far away from any
houses, lest the merry making, dancing and singing of the fairies
should keep the farmers awake. This was something of which the yokels,
or men of the plow, often complained. They could not sleep while the
fairies were having their parties.
Now among the Welsh fairies of every sort, size, dress, and behavior,
some were good, others were bad, but most of them were only full of
fun and mischief. Chief of these was the lively little fellow, Puck,
who lived in Cwm Pwcca, that is, Puck Valley, in Breconshire.
Now it had been an old custom, which had come down, from the days of
the cave men, that when anyone died, the people, friends and relatives
sat up all night with the corpse. The custom arose, at first, with the
idea of protection against wild beasts and later from insult by
enemies. This was called a wake. The watchers wept and wailed at
first, and then fell to eating and drinking. Sometimes, they got to be
very lively. The young folks even looked on a wake, after the first
hour or two, as fine fun. Strong liquor was too plentiful and it often
happened that quarrels broke out. When heads were thus fuddled, men
saw or thought they saw, many uncanny things, like leather birds, cave
eagles, and the like.
But all these fantastic things and creatures, such as foolish people
talk about, and with which they frighten children, such as corpse
candles, demons and imps, were ruled out and not invited to the fairy
meeting. Some other objects, which ignorant folks believed in, were
not to be allowed in the company. The door-keeper was notified not to
admit the eagles of darkness, that live in a cave which is never
lighted up; or the weird, featherless bird of leather, from the Land
of Illusion and Phantasy, that brushes its wing against windows, when
a funeral is soon to take place; or the greedy dog with silver eyes.
None of these would be permitted to show themselves, even if they came
and tried to get in. Some other creatures, not recognized in the good
society of Fairyland, were also barred out.
To this gathering, only the bright and lively fairies were welcome.
Some of the best natured among the big creatures, and especially
giants and dragons, might pay a visit, if they wanted to do so; but
all the bad ones, such as lake hags, wraiths, sellers of liquids for
wakes, who made men drunk, and all who, under the guise of fairies,
were only agents for undertakers, were ruled out. The Night Dogs of
the Wicked Hunter Annum, the monster Afang, Cadwallader's Goats, and
various, cruel goblins and ogres, living in the ponds, and that pulled
cattle down to eat them up, and the immodest mermaids, whose bad
behavior was so well known, were crossed off the list of invitations.
No ugly brats, such as wicked fairies were in the habit of putting in
the cradles of mortal mothers, when they stole away their babies, were
allowed to be present, even if they should come with their mothers.
This was to be a perfectly respectable company, and no bawling,
squealing, crying, or blubbering was to be permitted.
When they had all gathered together, at the evening hour, there was
seen, in the moonlight, the funniest lot of creatures, that one could
imagine, but all were neatly dressed and well behaved.
Quite a large number of the famous Fair Family, that moved only in the
best society of fairyland, fathers, mothers, cousins, uncles and
aunts, were on hand. In fact, some of them had thought it was to be a
wake, and were ready for whatever might turn up, whether solemn or
frivolous. These were dressed in varied costume.
Queen Mab, who above all else, was a Welsh fairy, and whose name, as
everybody knows who talks Cymric, suggested her extreme youth and
lively disposition, was present in all her glory.
When they saw her, several learned fairies, who had come from a
distance, fell at once into conversation on this subject. One
remarked: "How would the Queen like to add another syllable to her
name? Then we should call her Mab-gath (which means Kitten, or Little
Puss)."
"Well not so bad, however; because many mortal daddies, who have a
daughter, call her Puss. It is a term of affection with them and the
little girls never seem to be offended."
"Oh! Suppose that in talking to each other we call our Queen Mab-gar,
what then?" asked another, with a roguish twinkle in the eye.
"It depends on how you use it," said a wise one dryly. This fairy was
a stickler for the correct use of every word. "If you meant 'babyish,'
or 'childish,' she, or her friends might demur; but, if you use the
term 'love of children,' what better name for a fairy queen?"
"None. There could not be any," they shouted, all at once, "but let us
ask our old friend the harper."
Now such a thing as inquiring into each other's ages was not common in
Fairy Land. Very few ever asked such a question, for it was not
thought to be polite. For, though we hear of ugly fairy brats being
put into the cradles, in place of pretty children, no one ever heard,
either of fairies being born or of dying, or having clocks, or
watches, or looking to see what time it was. Nor did doctors, or the
census clerks, or directory people ever trouble the fairy ladies, to
ask their age.
Occasionally, however, there was one fairy, so wise, so learned, and
so able to tell what was going to happen to-morrow, or next year, that
the other fairies looked up to such an one with respect and awe.
Yet these honorables would hardly know what you were talking about, if
you asked any of them how old they might be, or spoke of "old" or
"young." If, by any chance, a fairy did use the world "old" in talking
of their number, it would be for honor or dignity, and they would mean
it for a compliment.
The fact was, that many of the most lively fairies showed their
frivolous disposition at once. These were of the kind, that, like
kittens, cubs, or babies, wanted to play all the time, yes, every
moment. Already, hundreds of them were tripping from flower to flower,
riding on the backs of fireflies, or harnessing night moths, or any
winged creatures they could saddle, for flight through the air. Or,
they were waltzing with glow worms, or playing "ring around a rosy,"
or dancing in circles. They could not keep still, one moment.