wild wales-第23部分

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Baptists　I　don't　believe　a　word　of　it；　he　was　turned　out　of　the　
connection；　and　then　went　about　the　country　saying　he　left　it。　　No　
Baptist　connection　would　ever　have　a　writer　of　Interludes　in　it；　
not　Twm　o'r　Nant　himself；　unless　he　left　his　ales　and　Interludes　
and　wanton　hussies；　for　the　three　things　are　sure　to　go　together。　　
You　say　he　went　over　to　the　Church　of　Rome；　of　course　he　did；　if　
the　Church　of　England　were　not　at　hand　to　receive　him；　where　should　
he　go　but　to　Rome？　　No　respectable　church　like　the　Methodist　or　the　
Independent　would　have　received　him。　　There　are　only　two　churches　
in　the　world　that　will　take　in　anybody　without　asking　questions；　
and　will　never　turn　them　out　however　bad　they　may　behave；　the　one　
is　the　Church　of　Rome；　and　the　other　the　Church　of　Canterbury；　and　
if　you　look　into　the　matter　you　will　find　that　every　rogue；　rascal　
and　hanged　person　since　the　world　began；　has　belonged　to　one　or　
other　of　those　communions。〃

In　the　evening　I　took　a　walk　with　my　wife　and　daughter　past　the　
Plas　Newydd。　　Coming　to　the　little　mill　called　the　Melyn　Bac；　at　
the　bottom　of　the　gorge；　we　went　into　the　yard　to　observe　the　
water…wheel。　　We　found　that　it　was　turned　by　a　very　little　water；　
which　was　conveyed　to　it　by　artificial　means。　　Seeing　the　miller's　
man；　a　short　dusty　figure；　standing　in　the　yard；　I　entered　into　
conversation　with　him；　and　found　to　my　great　surprise　that　he　had　a　
considerable　acquaintance　with　the　ancient　language。　　On　my　
repeating　to　him　verses　from　Taliesin　he　understood　them；　and　to　
show　me　that　he　did；　translated　some　of　the　lines　into　English。　　
Two　or　three　respectable…looking　lads；　probably　the　miller's　sons；　
came　out；　and　listened　to　us。　　One　of　them　said　we　were　both　good　
Welshmen。　　After　a　little　time　the　man　asked　me　if　I　had　heard　of　
Huw　Morris；　I　told　him　that　I　was　well　acquainted　with　his　
writings；　and　enquired　whether　the　place　in　which　he　had　lived　was　
not　somewhere　in　the　neighbourhood。　　He　said　it　was；　and　that　it　
was　over　the　mountains　not　far　from　Llan　Sanfraid。　　I　asked　whether　
it　was　not　called　Pont　y　Meibion。　　He　answered　in　the　affirmative；　
and　added　that　he　had　himself　been　there；　and　had　sat　in　Huw　
Morris's　stone　chair　which　was　still　to　be　seen　by　the　road's　side。　　
I　told　him　that　I　hoped　to　visit　the　place　in　a　few　days。　　He　
replied　that　I　should　be　quite　right　in　doing　so；　and　that　no　one　
should　come　to　these　parts　without　visiting　Pont　y　Meibion；　for　
that　Huw　Morris　was　one　of　the　columns　of　the　Cumry。

〃What　a　difference；〃　said　I　to　my　wife；　after　we　had　departed；　
〃between　a　Welshman　and　an　Englishman　of　the　lower　class。　　What　
would　a　Suffolk　miller's　swain　have　said　if　I　had　repeated　to　him　
verses　out　of　Beowulf　or　even　Chaucer；　and　had　asked　him　about　the　
residence　of　Skelton。



CHAPTER　XX



Huw　Morris　…　Immortal　Elegy　…　The　Valley　of　Ceiriog　…　Tangled　
Wilderness　…　Perplexity　…　Chair　of　Huw　Morris　…　The　Walking　Stick　…　
Huw's　Descendant　…　Pont　y　Meibion。


Two　days　after　the　last　adventure　I　set　off；　over　the　Berwyn；　to　
visit　the　birth…place　of　Huw　Morris　under　the　guidance　of　John　
Jones；　who　was　well　acquainted　with　the　spot。

Huw　Morus　or　Morris；　was　born　in　the　year　1622　on　the　banks　of　the　
Ceiriog。　　His　life　was　a　long　one；　for　he　died　at　the　age　of　
eighty…four；　after　living　in　six　reigns。　　He　was　the　second　son　of　
a　farmer；　and　was　apprenticed　to　a　tanner；　with　whom；　however；　he　
did　not　stay　till　the　expiration　of　the　term　of　his　apprenticeship；　
for　not　liking　the　tanning　art；　he　speedily　returned　to　the　house　
of　his　father；　whom　he　assisted　in　husbandry　till　death　called　the　
old　man　away。　　He　then　assisted　his　elder　brother；　and　on　his　elder　
brother's　death；　lived　with　his　son。　　He　did　not　distinguish　
himself　as　a　husbandman；　and　appears　never　to　have　been　fond　of　
manual　labour。　　At　an　early　period；　however；　he　applied　himself　
most　assiduously　to　poetry；　and　before　he　had　attained　the　age　of　
thirty　was　celebrated；　throughout　Wales；　as　the　best　poet　of　his　
time。　　When　the　war　broke　out　between　Charles　and　his　parliament；　
Huw　espoused　the　part　of　the　king；　not　as　soldier；　for　he　appears　
to　have　liked　fighting　little　better　than　tanning　or　husbandry；　but　
as　a　poet；　and　probably　did　the　king　more　service　in　that　capacity　
than　he　would　if　he　had　raised　him　a　troop　of　horse；　or　a　regiment　
of　foot；　for　he　wrote　songs　breathing　loyalty　to　Charles；　and　
fraught　with　pungent　satire　against　his　foes；　which　ran　like　wild…
fire　through　Wales；　and　had　a　great　influence　on　the　minds　of　the　
people。　　Even　when　the　royal　cause　was　lost　in　the　field；　he　still　
carried　on　a　poetical　war　against　the　successful　party；　but　not　so　
openly　as　before；　dealing　chiefly　in　allegories；　which；　however；　
were　easy　to　be　understood。　　Strange　to　say　the　Independents；　when　
they　had　the　upper　hand；　never　interfered　with　him　though　they　
persecuted　certain　Royalist　poets　of　far　inferior　note。　　On　the　
accession　of　Charles　the　Second　he　celebrated　the　event　by　a　most　
singular　piece　called　the　Lamentation　of　Oliver's　men；　in　which　he　
assails　the　Roundheads　with　the　most　bitter　irony。　　He　was　loyal　to　
James　the　Second；　till　that　monarch　attempted　to　overthrow　the　
Church　of　England；　when　Huw；　much　to　his　credit；　turned　against　
him；　and　wrote　songs　in　the　interest　of　the　glorious　Prince　of　
Orange。　　He　died　in　the　reign　of　good　Queen　Anne。　　In　his　youth　his　
conduct　was　rather　dissolute；　but　irreproachable　and　almost　holy　in　
his　latter　days　…　a　kind　of　halo　surrounded　his　old　brow。　　It　was　
the　custom　in　those　days　in　North　Wales　for　the　congregation　to　
leave　the　church　in　a　row　with　the　clergyman　at　their　head；　but　so　
great　was　the　estimation　in　which　old　Huw　was　universally　held；　for　
the　purity　of　his　life　and　his　poetical　gift；　that　the　clergyman　of　
the　parish　abandoning　his　claim　to　precedence；　always　insisted　on　
the　good　and　inspired　old　man's　leading　the　file；　himself　following　
immediately　in　his　rear。　　Huw　wrote　on　various　subjects；　mostly　in　
common　and　easily　understood　measures。　　He　was　great　in　satire；　
great　in　humour；　but　when　he　pleased　could　be　greater　in　pathos　
than　in　either；　for　his　best　piece　is　an　elegy　on　Barbara　
Middleton；　the　sweetest　song　of　the　kind　ever　written。　　From　his　
being　born　on　the　banks　of　the　brook　Ceiriog；　and　from　the　flowing　
melody　of　his　awen　or　muse；　his　countrymen　were　in　the　habit　of　
calling　him　Eos　Ceiriog；　or　the　Ceiriog　Nightingale。

So　John　Jones　and　myself　set　off　across　the　Berwyn　to　visit　the　
birthplace　of　the　great　poet　Huw　Morris。　　We　ascended　the　mountain　
by　Allt　Paddy。　　The　morning　was　lowering　and　before　we　had　half　got　
to　the　top　it　began　to　rain。　　John　Jones　was　in　his　usual　good　
spirits。　　Suddenly　taking　me　by　the　arm　he　told　me　to　look　to　the　
right　across　the　gorge　to　a　white　house；　which　he　pointed　out。

〃What　is　there　in　that　house？〃　said　I。

〃An　aunt　of　mine　lives　there；〃　said　he。

Having　frequently　heard　him　call　old　women　his　aunts；　I　said；　
〃Every　poor　old　woman　in　the　neighbourhood　seems　to　be　your　aunt。〃

〃This　is　no　poor　old　woman；〃　said　he；　〃she　is　cyfoethawg　iawn；　and　
only　last　week　she　sent　me　and　my　family　a　pound　of　bacon；　which　
would　have　cost　me　sixpence…halfpenny；　and　about　a　month　ago　a　
measure　of　wheat。〃

We　passed　over　the　top　of　the　mountain；　and　descending　the　other　
side　reached　Llansanfraid；　and　stopped　at　the　public…house　where　we　
had　been　before；　and　called　for　two　glasses　of　ale。　　Whilst　
drinking　our　ale　Jones　asked　some　questions　about　Huw　Morris　of　the　
woman　who　served　us；　she　said　that　he　was　a　famous　poet；　and　that　
people　of　his　blood　were　yet　living　upon　the　lands　which　had　
belonged　to　him　at　Pont　y　Meibion。　　Jones　told　her　that　his　
companion；　the　gwr　boneddig；　meaning　myself；　had　come　in　order　to　
see　the　birth…place　of　Huw　Morris；　and　that　I　was　well　acquainted　
with　his　works；　having　gotten　them　by　heart　in　Lloegr；　when　a　boy。　　
The　woman　said　that　nothing　would　give　her　greater　pleasure　than　to　
hear　a　Sais　recite　poetry　of　Huw　Morris；　whereupon　I　recited　a　
number　of　his　lines　addressed　to　the　Gof　Du；　or　blacksmith。　　The　
woman　held　up　her　hands；　and　a　carter　who　was　in　the　kitchen　
somewhat　the　worse　for　liquor；　shouted　applause。　　After　asking　a　
few　questions　as　to　the　road　we　were　to　take；　we　left　the　house；　
and　in　a　little　time　entered　the　valley　of　Ceiriog。　　The　valley　is　
very　narrow；　huge　hills　overhanging　it　on　both　sides；　those　on　the　
east　side　lumpy　and　bare；　those　on　the　west　precipitous；　and　
partially　clad　with　wood；　the　torrent　Ceiriog　runs　down　it；　
clinging　to　the　east　side；　the　road　is　tolerably　good；　and　is　to　
the　west　of　the　stream。　　Shortly　after　we　had　entered　the　gorge；　we　
passed　by　a　small　farm…house　on　our　right　hand；　with　a　hawthorn　
hedge　before　it；　upon　which　seems　to　stand　a　peacock；　curiously　cut　
out　of　thorn。　　Passing　on　we　came　to　a　place　called　Pandy　uchaf；　or　
the　higher　Fulling　mill。　　The　place　so　called　is　a　collection　of　
ruinous　houses；　which　put　me　in　mind　of　the　Fulling　mills　mentioned　
in　〃Don　Quixote。〃　　It　is　called　the　Pandy　because　there　was　
formerly　a　fulling　mill　here；　said　to　have　been　the　first　
established　in　Wales；　which　is　still　to　be　seen；　but　which　is　no　
longer　worked。　　Just　above　the　old　mill　there　is　a　meeting　of　
streams；　the　Tarw　from　the　west　rolls　down　a　dark　valley　into　the　
Ceiriog。

At　the　entrance　of　this　valley　and　just　before　you　reach　the　Pandy；　
which　it　nearly　overhangs；　is　an　enormous　crag。　　After　I　had　looked　
at　the　place　for　some　time　with　considerable　interest　we　proceeded　
towards　the　south；　and　in　about　twenty　minutes　reached　a　neat　kind　
of　house；　on　our　right　hand；　which　John　Jones　told　me　stood　on　the　
ground　of　Huw　Morris。　　Telling　me　to　wait；　he　went　to　the　house；　
and　asked　some　questions。　　After　a　little　time　I　followed　him　and　
found　him　discoursing　at　the　door　with　a　stout　dame　about　fifty…
five　years　of　age；　and　a　stout　buxom　damsel　of　about　seventeen；　
very　short　of　stature。

〃This　is　the　gentleman〃　said　he；　〃who　wishes　to　see　anything　there　
may　be　here　connected　with