G. Basil Barham

“ This third volume of Legend Land tells some more of the old stories of those peoples, kindred in origin, the Welsh and the Cornish. They are mostly the old tales that have survived—who shall say how many generations?
If you look into them, with the eyes of imagination, you will see behind them the simplest romances of a very simple people; a people that explained some uncomprehended thing with some comprehensible story, or who would invest the memories of their great men and women with records of wonderful achievement often formerly attributed to some yet earlier hero. ”

“ On the very border line of “The Little England Beyond Wales,” as South Pembrokeshire is known, a land of many splendid old castles into which the sea bites deep at Milford Haven, stands Narberth Castle, famous for many things, among them that its owner once tried to hang a mouse.
It is a queer old story of magic and sorcery, and as the tale goes, far, far back in history, Prince Manawyddan lived at Narberth Castle with his stepson Pryderi and Cigfa his wife. One day a great darkness fell upon the land, and when it had passed Pryderi and all the retainers had vanished. ”

“ The lonely and fascinating Perran Sands are easily reached from either Newquay or Perranporth. The coast on the Newquay side is particularly fine, for a succession of steep rocky headlands here thrust themselves into the Atlantic rollers, and between them are quiet little sand-fringed bays where one may idle away a summer afternoon with only the sea birds for company.
Newquay itself, with its many fine hotels and its bathing beaches, is one of the most attractive of all the north Cornish coast towns, from which the most impressive of that coast scenery may easily be visited. ”

“ Harlech stands upon the side of a castle-crowned hill, separated from the sea by those magnificent golf links famous throughout the world.
It is an ideal holiday resort in the midst of a district teeming with objects of natural beauty and antiquarian interest. From it, the railway line, which follows the greater part of the Cardigan Bay coast, gives easy access to such places as Barmouth, Aberystwyth, or northward to Criccieth and Pwllheli, while inland is a district of little lake-studded mountains and moorland, offering endless attractions to the walker, the artist, or the fisherman. ”

“ Somewhere about the middle of the south coast of Cornwall, a noble headland, the Dodman Point, stretches abruptly into the Channel, towering, at its summit, 370 odd feet above the waves. It is one of the landmarks of the south coast well known to every sailorman.
Unimaginative people, like antiquaries and professors, will tell you that Dodman only means “Stone Point,” and is merely a corruption of the old [Pg 33] Cornish “Duadh Maen”; but the country folk take no heed of that; they know the old story handed down from long dead ages. They know that Dodman means “Deadman,” and this is why. ”

“ There it is to-day as wild and beautiful a headland as any in Cornwall. In the giant’s mighty bulwark known locally as the “Hack and Cast,” wild flowers bloom. From the summit a wonderful view, from the Lizard to the west to the Devon coast eastward, extends.
Mevagissey, one of the most characteristic of Cornish fishing ports, is less than four miles away, and all [Pg 35] about is a fascinating little known country of deep fertile little valleys and seldom-visited villages, while the coast scenery of Mevagissey and Veryan Bays, which the Dodman practically divides, is rugged and charming. ”

“ But you must visit this fascinating corner of Wales fully to appreciate its charm and romance. Criccieth or Pwllheli is a good centre. Each is an attractive little town by the sea facing due south and sheltered by mountains from the north or east winds.
[Pg 23]
Noble Snowdon, its summit over 3,500 above sea level, is not far away, and an excursion to the far end of Lleyn, where Bardsey Sound divides remote Bardsey Island from the mainland, takes the visitor through one of the most beautiful—and least known—districts in the whole of our country. ”

“ Penzance is the best centre for visiting this remote district. A regular service of motor buses runs from that place to the Lands End, carrying the visitor within an easy walk of Treen Castle and its Fairy Gardens, and traversing on the way a wild windswept, almost treeless country, abounding in relics of our earliest ancestors—strange stone circles and British villages. The moorland hills here rise to 800 feet in height, and from them extensive views are to be had comprising, on ordinarily clear days, the far isles of Scilly, lying out in the Atlantic, thirty-five miles away. ”

“ There is a station at Narberth, but Tenby, that picturesque and attractive little town on the coast of Carmarthen Bay, is perhaps your best centre for the district. The coast to the westward is wild and rocky, while inland is a glorious country, scattered more thickly than any part of our islands with the remains of noble medieval castles. ”

“ The Small Folk, or Fairies, as strangers call them, are very fond of flowers. They have their own particular gardens in many places around the rough Cornish coast, but mostly they are to be found near the base of jagged cliffs in little green tracts, inaccessible either from the sea or from the summit of the cliff above. There are several of these near the foot of the cliffs round Trereen or Treen Castle, that rugged headland near the [Pg 29] Lands End, upon which stands the famous Logan Rock, or rocking stone. ”

“ In a ravine that cuts into the rugged cliffs by St. Govan’s Head on the south coast of Pembrokeshire, is a little chapel, once the hermitage of the saint whose name the headland bears. St. Govan was a disciple of St. David, and he had an adventurous life in this lonely part of Wales many hundreds of years ago.
The district was harried by pirates from the sea, and savage pagan tribesmen from the interior, and [Pg 25] the very rocks and stones of his sea-girt dwelling place had often to come to the rescue of the holy man. ”

“ Now a witch cannot shed tears—that is one of the ways you may always tell one—but a kiss given freely and with good will, can break the bonds of magic that bind a witch; and no sooner had the young bride of Hellenclose kissed the aged woman than tears began to well from her eyes. These fell to the [Pg 51] ground and caused first a tiny trickle then a regular stream which flowed on through the sand towards the sea at Holywell Bay. ”

“ Neath, on the main line, is a good centre from which to start to explore this beautiful valley.
And when you tire of the mountains, you can turn southwards and see that stretch of little known coast, with its bold headlands and spring-turfed cliffs that runs from Briton Ferry as far as busy Barry Docks. Strangers do not often come here, yet in all our land it would be hard to find a more attractive district, made yet more pleasing by the absence of other holiday makers. ”

“ For us it is sufficient to be glad that the old legends have survived. Let us enjoy them without speculation as to their beginnings, remembering only that they had a beginning, most of them in an age so long ago that history cannot place it. ”

“ For the artist there is the endless variety of rocky coast and mountain scenery, and for the average holiday-maker an unspoilt land swept by mild health-giving air, where he may idle away the days in perfect quietude and restfulness. ”

“ Exactly how many there are you must try to count for yourself, for it is said that they vary, and never number the same going up as they do coming down. Once fierce pirates landed here and stole a silver bell that hung in the chapel.
Poor St. Govan was forced to hide from these wretches on many occasions. A friendly rock would then come to his aid—you may see it to-day to the left of the altar in the chapel. This rock would open, when the saint was pursued and disclose a hollow within just big enough to enclose his form. ”

“ Govan’s holy well is situated a little below the chapel, and here cripples from all over Wales would travel to bathe in the healing waters which gave relief to their sufferings. There is another healing property in the cliffs near at hand, in the form of a deposit of red clay, which for centuries has had the reputation of curing sore eyes. ”

“ They came to an entrance of a cave close by where the hazel staff had been cut, and the stranger bade the Welshman enter. Within the entrance was a silver bell hanging from the roof, beyond which a passage led to a great cavernous hall where, around a massive oak table, were a number of warriors, fast asleep, but still clad in their armour and with their weapons by their sides. One of these ancient warriors, with a long silver beard, wore a crown upon his head. ”

“ The old stories tell that King Arthur and his gallant knights are not dead; they are only sleeping and will awake with renewed vigour, should ever they be needed to fight the enemies of their beloved land. And their resting place is within the great upstanding limestone rock of Craig-y-Ddinas in South Wales.
There is a tale told of a Welshman from Llantrisant who was accosted on London Bridge, of all places, by a strange little man with a grey beard, [Pg 13] who asked where he had cut the hazel staff he carried. The Welshman replied: “In my own country not far from my home.” ”

“ At last the husband relented so far as to promise that the supposed witch should be spared until nightfall. If by then the house remained safe the old woman should go free; if not: “By St. Pirran, she shall hang,” he vowed.
The young bride agreed to this compromise and herself undertook to be responsible for the old woman’s safe keeping. She led her outside the hall, where the sand was now driving in low clouds over her lord’s land, and besought the old dame, if she had any power to do so, to avert the almost inevitable tragedy. ”

“ Melangell to aid a hare pursued by hounds, the animal will escape; consequently, the holy woman is not greatly beloved of huntsmen.
Her lonely hill-side bed, upon which she slept for fifteen years, still survives near the church. It is a [Pg 11] recess in the rock now overgrown with bushes, but is there for all the world to see, to prove conclusively—if you require proof—the truth of this charming legend of the solitary lady of the hills. ”

“ This is the story of the sad fate that befell a sister of a British King who lived at Twr Bronwen, which stood where Harlech Castle now stands, and who married Matholwch, an Irish King, and sailed with him across the seas. Bronwen was her name, and they say that she was the most beautiful woman in all the land. ”

“ They also tell that beneath the surface of the lake lives a mysterious monster called “Old Morgan,” who, perhaps, is he who in those far away days beguiled Grace to forget her duty at the well. “Morgan” is a terrible person, with whom the country children round about are threatened when they misbehave.
This pathetic story of Grace and her sad fate is but one of the many that cling about Lleyn. March, the husband of the fair Iseult, had a castle here, and from that grim fortress, Iseult eloped with Tristan. ”

“ And we, who travel to these distant parts of Britain, can better enjoy their charms if we go there knowing something of the stories that have clung about them for many centuries, and if we leave our critical business method of mind behind us locked in our office desks. ”

“ But you must not interfere with the Small Folk or they will punish you. They have their own ways of doing this. They will lead you astray for hours, or make you drop stitches at your knitting, or make you lose your path on a dark winter’s night. ”

“ Old Ezekiel only survived for a few weeks. One morning he was found dead, and the country folk tell that at his funeral a crowd of grinning demons appeared, which afterwards flew away over Carn Brea, and that from its midst came the same horrible laughter that the spectre had been heard so often to emit.
Rosewarne, the scene of this story, lies in that barren mining country which every visitor to Cornwall should see. ”

“ But anyhow the cover of the well was left open one night, and, as happened at Bala, soon after the weary country folk had retired to rest, they were aroused, in alarm, by a great flood which came from Ffynnon Grassi, which was pouring out a stream of water, that nobody could check.
Soon the prosperous farms and fertile lands round about were submerged beneath the waters, and Llyn Glasfryn was formed. But the careless Grace to whose negligence the great misfortune was due did not escape unpunished. ”

“ Those who have been lucky enough to witness this wonderful scene say that you must be perfectly silent and hardly move, or you will frighten the Small Folk. They are very beautiful little creatures, seeking to harm nobody. ”