CHAPTER x.x.xVII

Mental Excitation-Land of Poets-The Man in Grey-Drinking Healths-The Greatest Prydydd-Envy-Welshmen not Hogs-Gentlemanly Feeling-What Pursuit?-Tell him to Walk Up-Editor of the _Times_-Careful Wife-Departure.

I regained the high road by a short cut, which I discovered across a field. I proceeded rapidly along for some time. My mind was very much excited: I was in the birth-place of the mighty Tudors-I had just seen the tomb of one of them; I was also in the land of the bard; a country which had produced Gwalchmai who sang the triumphs of Owain, and him who had sung the Cowydd of Judgment, Gronwy Owen. So no wonder I was excited. On I went reciting bardic s.n.a.t.c.hes connected with Anglesey. At length I began repeating Black Robin's ode in praise of the island, or rather my own translation of it, executed more than thirty years before, which amongst others, contains the following lines:-

"Twelve sober men the muses woo, Twelve sober men in Anglesey, Dwelling at home, like patriots true, In reverence for Anglesey."

"Oh," said I, after I had recited that stanza, "what would I not give to see one of those sober patriotic bards, or at least one of their legitimate successors, for by this time no doubt, the sober poets, mentioned by Black Robin, are dead. That they left legitimate successors who can doubt? for Anglesey is never to be without bards. Have we not the words, not of Robin the Black, but Huw the Red to that effect?

"'Brodir, gnawd ynddi prydydd; Heb ganu ni bu ni bydd.'

"That is: a hospitable country, in which a poet is a thing of course. It has never been and will never be without song."

Here I became silent, and presently arrived at the side of a little dell or ravine, down which the road led from east to west. The northern and southern sides of this dell were precipitous. Beneath the southern one stood a small cottage. Just as I began to descend the eastern side, two men began to descend the opposite one, and it so happened that we met at the bottom of the dingle, just before the house, which bore a sign, and over the door of which was an inscription to the effect that ale was sold within. They saluted me; I returned their salutation, and then we all three stood still looking at one another. One of the men was rather a tall figure, about forty, dressed in grey, or pepper-and-salt, with a cap of some kind on his head, his face was long and rather good-looking, though slightly pock-broken. There was a peculiar gravity upon it. The other person was somewhat about sixty-he was much shorter than his companion, and much worse dressed-he wore a hat that had several holes in it, a dusty, rusty black coat, much too large for him; ragged yellow velveteen breeches, indifferent fustian gaiters, and shoes, cobbled here and there, one of which had rather an ugly bulge by the side near the toes. His mouth was exceedingly wide, and his nose remarkably long; its extremity of a deep purple; upon his features was a half-simple smile or leer; in his hand was a long stick. After we had all taken a full view of one another I said in Welsh, addressing myself to the man in grey, "Pray may I take the liberty of asking the name of this place?"

"I believe you are an Englishman, sir," said the man in grey, speaking English, "I will therefore take the liberty of answering your question in the English tongue. The name of this place is Dyffryn Gaint."

"Thank you," said I; "you are quite right with regard to my being an Englishman; perhaps you are one yourself?"

"Sir," said the man in grey, "I have not the honour to be so. I am a native of the small island in which we are."

"Small," said I, "but famous, particularly for producing ill.u.s.trious men."

"That's very true indeed, sir," said the man in grey, drawing himself up; "it is particularly famous for producing ill.u.s.trious men."

"There was Owen Tudor?" said I.

"Very true," said the man in grey, "his tomb is in the church a little way from hence."

"Then," said I, "there was Gronwy Owen, one of the greatest bards that ever lived. Out of reverence to his genius I went yesterday to see the place of his birth."

"Sir," said the man in grey, "I should be sorry to leave you without enjoying your conversation at some length. In yonder house they sell good ale, perhaps you will not be offended if I ask you to drink some with me and my friend?"

"You are very kind," said I, "I am fond of good ale, and fonder still of good company-suppose we go in?"

We went into the cottage, which was kept by a man and his wife, both of whom seemed to be perfectly well acquainted with my two new friends. We sat down on stools, by a clean white table in a little apartment with a clay floor-notwithstanding the heat of the weather, the little room was very cool and pleasant owing to the cottage being much protected from the sun by its situation. The man in grey called for a jug of ale, which was presently placed before us along with three gla.s.ses. The man in grey, having filled the gla.s.ses from the jug which might contain three pints, handed one to me, another to his companion, and then taking the third drank to my health. I drank to his, and that of his companion; the latter, after nodding to us both, emptied his at a draught, and then with a kind of half-fatuous leer, exclaimed "Da iawn, very good."

The ale, though not very good, was cool and neither sour nor bitter; we then sat for a moment or two in silence, my companions on one side of the table, and I on the other. After a little time the man in grey looking at me said:

"Travelling I suppose in Anglesey for pleasure?"

"To a certain extent," said I; "but my chief object in visiting Anglesey was to view the birth-place of Gronwy Owen; I saw it yesterday and am now going to Holyhead chiefly with a view to see the country."

"And how came you, an Englishman, to know anything of Gronwy Owen?"

"I studied Welsh literature when young," said I, "and was much struck with the verses of Gronwy: he was one of the great bards of Wales, and certainly the most ill.u.s.trious genius that Anglesey ever produced."

"A great genius I admit," said the man in grey, "but pardon me, not exactly the greatest Ynis Fon has produced. The race of the bards is not quite extinct in the island, sir, I could name one or two-however, I leave others to do so-but I a.s.sure you the race of bards is not quite extinct here."

"I am delighted to hear you say so," said I, "and make no doubt that you speak correctly, for the Red Bard has said that Mona is never to be without a poet-but where am I to find one? Just before I saw you I was wishing to see a poet; I would willingly give a quart of ale to see a genuine Anglesey poet."

"You would, sir, would you?" said the man in grey, lifting his head on high, and curling his upper lip.

"I would, indeed," said I, "my greatest desire at present is to see an Anglesey poet, but where am I to find one?"

"Where is he to find one?" said he of the tattered hat; "where's the gwr boneddig to find a prydydd? No occasion to go far, he, he, he."

"Well," said I, "but where is he?"

"Where is he? why there," said he pointing to the man in grey-"the greatest prydydd in tir Fon or the whole world."

"Tut, tut, hold your tongue," said the man in grey.

"Hold my tongue, myn Diawl, not I-I speak the truth," then filling his gla.s.s he emptied it exclaiming, "I'll not hold my tongue. The greatest prydydd in the whole world."

"Then I have the honour to be seated with a bard of Anglesey?" said I, addressing the man in grey.

"Tut, tut," said he of the grey suit.

"The greatest prydydd in the whole world," iterated he of the bulged shoe, with a slight hiccup, as he again filled his gla.s.s.

"Then," said I, "I am truly fortunate."

"Sir," said the man in grey, "I had no intention of discovering myself, but as my friend here has betrayed my secret, I confess that I am a bard of Anglesey-my friend is an excellent individual but indiscreet, highly indiscreet, as I have frequently told him," and here he looked most benignantly reproachful at him of the tattered hat.

"The greatest prydydd," said the latter, "the greatest prydydd that-" and leaving his sentence incomplete he drank off the ale which he had poured into his gla.s.s.

"Well," said I, "I cannot sufficiently congratulate myself, for having met an Anglesey bard-no doubt a graduate one. Anglesey was always famous for graduate bards, for what says Black Robin?

"'Though Arvon graduate bards can boast, Yet more canst thou, O Anglesey.'"

"I suppose by graduate bard you mean one who has gained the chair at an eisteddfod?" said the man in grey. "No, I have never gained the silver chair-I have never had an opportunity. I have been kept out of the eisteddfodau. There is such a thing as envy, sir-but there is one comfort, that envy will not always prevail."

"No," said I; "envy will not always prevail-envious scoundrels may chuckle for a time at the seemingly complete success of the dastardly arts to which they have recourse, in order to crush merit-but Providence is not asleep. All of a sudden they see their supposed victim on a pinnacle far above their reach. Then there is weeping, and gnashing of teeth with a vengeance, and the long melancholy howl. O, there is nothing in this world which gives one so perfect an idea of retribution as the long melancholy howl of the disappointed envious scoundrel when he sees his supposed victim smiling on an alt.i.tude far above his reach."

"Sir," said the man in grey, "I am delighted to hear you. Give me your hand, your honourable hand. Sir, you have now felt the hand-grasp of a Welshman, to say nothing of an Anglesey bard, and I have felt that of a Briton, perhaps a bard, a brother, sir? O, when I first saw your face out there in the dyffryn, I at once recognised in it that of a kindred spirit, and I felt compelled to ask you to drink. Drink sir! but how is this? the jug is empty-how is this?-O, I see-my friend, sir, though an excellent individual, is indiscreet, sir-very indiscreet. Landlord, bring this moment another jug of ale."

"The greatest prydydd," stuttered he of the bulged shoe-"the greatest prydydd-Oh-"

"Tut, tut," said the man in grey.

"I speak the truth and care for no one," said he of the tattered hat. "I say the greatest prydydd. If any one wishes to gainsay me let him show his face, and Myn Diawl-"

The landlord brought the ale, placed it on the table, and then stood as if waiting for something.

"I suppose you are waiting to be paid," said I; "what is your demand?"

"Sixpence for this jug, and sixpence for the other," said the landlord.