apologue of “The Fables of Cattwg the Wise,” in the Iolo MS. published by the Welsh MS. Society, p.561, “The man who killed his Greyhound.” (These Fables, Mr. Nutt informs me, are a pseudonymous production probably of the sixteenth century.) This concludes the literary route of the Legend of Gellert from India to Wales: Buddhistic Vinaya Pitaka–Fables of Bidpai;–Oriental Sindibad;–Occidental Seven Sages of Rome;–'English” (Latin), Gesta Romanorum;–Welsh, Fables of Cattwg.
Remarks.–We have still to connect the legend with Llewelyn and with Bedd Gelert. But first it may be desirable to point out why it is necessary to assume that the legend is a legend and not a fact. The saving of an infant’s life by a dog, and the mistaken slaughter of the dog, are not such an improbable combination as to make it impossible that the same event occurred in many places. But what is impossible, in my opinion, is that such an event should have independently been used in different places as the typical instance of, and warning against, rash action. That the Gellert legend, before it was localised, was used as a moral apologue in Wales is shown by the fact that it occurs among the Fables of Cattwg, which are all of that character. It was also utilised as a proverb: “Yr wy’n edivaru cymmaint a’r Gwr a laddodd ei Vilgi” ('I repent as much as the man who slew his greyhound”). The fable indeed, from this point of view, seems greatly to have attracted the Welsh mind, perhaps as of especial value to a proverbially impetuous temperament. Croker (Fairy Legends of Ireland, vol. iii. p. 165) points out several places where the legend seems to have been localised in place-names–two places, called “Gwal y Vilast' ('Greyhound’s Couch”), in Carmarthen and Glamorganshire; “Llech y Asp” ('Dog’s Stone”), in Cardigan, and another place named in Welsh 'Spring of the Greyhound’s Stone.” Mr. Baring-Gould mentions that the legend is told of an ordinary tombstone, with a knight and a greyhound, in Abergavenny Church; while the Fable of Cattwg is told of a man in Abergarwan. So widespread and well known was the legend that it was in Richard III’s time adopted as the national crest. In the Warwick Roll, at the Herald’s Office, after giving separate crests for England, Scotland, and Ireland, that for Wales is given as figured in the margin, and blazoned “on a coronet in a cradle or, a greyhound argent for Walys” (see J. R. Planche, Twelve Designs for the Costume of Shakespeare’s Richard III., 1830, frontispiece). If this Roll is authentic, the popularity of the legend is thrown back into the fifteenth century. It still remains to explain how and when this general legend of rash action was localised and specialised at Bedd Gelert: I believe I have discovered this. There certainly was a local legend about a dog named Gelert at that place; E. Jones, in the first edition of his Musical Relicks of the Welsh Bards, 1784, p. 40, gives the following englyn or epigram:
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.
