Claddwyd Cylart celfydd (ymlyniad)

Ymlaneau Efionydd

Parod giuio i’w gynydd

Parai’r dydd yr heliai Hydd;

which he Englishes thus:

The remains of famed Cylart, so faithful and good,

The bounds of the cantred conceal;

Whenever the doe or the stag he pursued

His master was sure of a meal.

No reference was made in the first edition to the Gellert legend, but in the second edition of 1794, p. 75, a note was added telling the legend, “There is a general tradition in North Wales that a wolf had entered the house of Prince Llewellyn. Soon after the Prince returned home, and, going into the nursery, he met his dog Kill-hart, all bloody and wagging his tail at him; Prince Llewellyn, on entering the room found the cradle where his child lay overturned, and the floor flowing with blood; imagining that the greyhound had killed the child, he immediately drew his sword and stabbed it; then, turning up the cradle, found under it the child alive, and the wolf dead. This so grieved the Prince, that he erected a tomb over his faithful dog’s grave; where afterwards the parish church was built and goes by that name–Bedd Cilhart, or the grave of Kill-hart, in Carnarvonshire. From this incident is elicited a very common Welsh proverb [that given above which occurs also in ’The Fables of Cattwg;’ it will be observed that it is quite indefinite.]” “Prince Llewellyn ab Jorwerth married Joan, [natural] daughter of King John, by Agatha, daughter of Robert Ferrers, Earl of Derby; and the dog was a present to the prince from his father-in-law about the year 1205.” It was clearly from this note that the Hon. Mr. Spencer got his account; oral tradition does not indulge in dates Anno Domini. The application of the general legend of “the man who slew his greyhound” to the dog Cylart, was due to the learning of E. Jones, author of the Musical Relicks. I am convinced of this, for by a lucky chance I am enabled to give the real legend about Cylart, which is thus given in Carlisle’s Topographical Dictionary of Wales, s.v., “Bedd Celert,” published in 1811, the date of publication of Mr. Spencer’s Poems. “Its name, according to tradition, implies The Grave of Celert, a Greyhound which belonged to Llywelyn, the last Prince of Wales: and a large Rock is still pointed out as the monument of this celebrated Dog, being on the spot where it was found dead, together with the stag which it had pursued from Carnarvon,” which is thirteen miles distant. The cairn was thus a monument of a “record” run of a greyhound: the englyn quoted by Jones is suitable enough for this, while quite inadequate to record the later legendary exploits of Gelert. Jones found an englyn devoted to an exploit of a dog named Cylart, and chose to interpret it in his second edition, 1794, as the exploit of a greyhound with which all the world (in Wales) were acquainted. Mr. Spencer took the legend from Jones (the reference to the date 1205 proves that), enshrined it in his somewhat banal verses, which were lucky enough to be copied into several reading-books, and thus became known to all English-speaking folk.

It remains only to explain why Jones connected the legend with Llewelyn. Llewelyn had local connection with Bedd Gellert, which was the seat of an Augustinian abbey, one of the oldest in Wales. An inspeximus of Edward I. given in Dugdale, Monast. Angl., ed. pr. ii. 100a, quotes as the earliest charter of the abbey “Cartam Lewelin, magni.” The name of the abbey was “Beth Kellarth"; the name is thus given by Leland, l.c., and as late as 1794 an engraving at the British Museum is entitled “Beth Kelert,” while Carlisle gives it as “Beth Celert.” The place was thus named after the abbey, not after the cairn or rock. This is confirmed by the fact of which Prof. Rhys had informed me, that the collocation of letters rt is un-Welsh. Under these circumstances it is not impossible, I think, that the earlier legend of the marvellous run of “Cylart” from Carnarvon was due to the etymologising fancy of some English-speaking Welshman who interpreted the name as Killhart, so that the simpler legend would be only a folk-etymology.

But whether Kellarth, Kelert, Cylart, Gelert or Gellert ever existed and ran a hart from Carnarvon to Bedd Gellert or no, there can be little doubt after the preceding that he was not the original hero of the fable of “the man that slew his greyhound,” which came to Wales from Buddhistic India through channels which are perfectly traceable. It was Edward Jones who first raised him to that proud position, and William Spencer who securely installed him there, probably for all time. The legend is now firmly established at Bedd Gellert. There is said to be an ancient air, “Bedd Gelert,” “as sung by the Ancient Britons"; it is given in a pamphlet published at Carnarvon in the “fifties,” entitled Gellert’s Grave; or, Llewellyn’s Rashness: a Ballad, by the Hon. W. R. Spencer, to which is added that ancient Welsh air, “Bedd Gelert,” as sung by the Ancient Britons. The air is from R. Roberts’ “Collection of Welsh Airs,” but what connection it has with the legend I have been unable to ascertain. This is probably another case of adapting one tradition to another. It is almost impossible to distinguish palaeozoic and cainozoic strata in oral tradition. According to Murray’s Guide to N. Wales, p. 125, the only authority for the cairn now shown is that of the landlord of the Goat Inn, “who felt compelled by the cravings of tourists to invent a grave.” Some old men at Bedd Gellert, Prof. Rhys informs me, are ready to testify that they saw the cairn laid. They might almost have been present at the birth of the legend, which, if my affiliation of it is correct, is not yet quite 100 years old.

Source.–Lluyd, Archaeologia Britannia, 1707, the first comparative Celtic grammar and the finest piece of work in comparative philology hitherto done in England, contains this tale as a specimen of Cornish then still spoken in Cornwall. I have used the English version contained in Blackwood’s Magazine as long ago as May 1818. I have taken the third counsel from the Irish version, as the original is not suited virginibus puerisque, though harmless enough in itself.

Parallels.–Lover has a tale, The Three Advices. It occurs also in modern Cornwall ap. Hunt, Drolls of West of England, 344, “The Tinner of Chyamor.” Borrow, Wild Wales, 41, has a reference which seems to imply that the story had crystallised into a Welsh proverb. Curiously enough, it forms the chief episode of the so-called “Irish Odyssey” (”Merugud Uilix maiec Leirtis“ –"Wandering of Ulysses M’Laertes”). It was derived, in all probability, from the Gesta Romanorum, c. 103, where two of the three pieces of advice are “Avoid a byeway,” “Beware of a house where the housewife is younger than her husband.” It is likely enough that this chapter, like others of the Gesta, came from the East, for it is found in some versions of “The Forty Viziers,” and in the Turkish Tales (see Oesterley’s parallels and Gesta, ed. Swan and Hooper, note 9).