The Legend of Beddgelert
The Legend of Beddgelert
Once Upon A Time
King John of England made a gift to Llywelyn the Great, Prince of Gwynedd, of a magnificent hound. The Prince was a great hunter and this hound, named Gelert, soon became his favorite. One day as he set out to the hunt, the great Gelert failed to come to the houndsmans summons. He could not be found, and finally the Prince reluctantly set out without him.
After a poor day’s hunting, the Prince returned. Gelert greeted him at the gate, covered in blood and gore. Following the trail of blood to the cradle where his infant son should rest, the Prince discovered an empty cradle and blood and bed clothes tossed all around. In a rage, believing Gelert had killed and eaten the child, he turned on the hound and ran him through with his sword.
The hounds dying cry brought an answering cry from the disarrayed bedclothing. A frantic search revealed the heir, the infant in perfect health, beside the body of a wolf, rent to death by the fangs of Gelert.
The faithful hound had killed the wolf to protect his master’s infant son. The Prince was striken with terrible remorse and buried Gelert with great honor.
The more I research the legend the muddier the waters become!
The basic story itself, of a man who rashly kills his hound only to learn he had made a terrible mistake apparently has roots so ancient, no one origin can be pin pointed. The nearest to an original is an old Buddist story, told as a warning against rash action. Like all good proverbs, it struck a chord, and so was retold over and over throughout Asia, Indian, and finally, the Celtic lands.
Thus, the story, in general, already existed when an enterprising innkeeper decided to turn it into a local legend, to bring in more business. The innkeeper was the manager of the Royal Goat Hotel, built in 1803 in Beddgelert. He and some local businessmen created the “Grave of Gelert” with a lovely statue and plaque, to create what we could call these days, a “tourist destination” out of what was already quite a lovely, and picturesque mountain town.
Beddgelert does translate to the Grave of Gelert, however, it is thought that it is actually named for an early ruler of the region, Celer. The innkeeper was further inspired by an ancient Welsh proverb; “Yr wy'n edivaru cymmaint a'r Gur a laddodd ei Vilgi” translated as "I repent as much as the man who slew his grey-hound".
By the way, the Irish Wolfhound people like to say Gelert was an Irish Wolfhound. Personally, I like to think he was a greyhound – given the proverb. Of course, since Gelert never actually existed, you can think what you want!
No matter – the story has grown in the telling, and even inspired a famous poem: Llewellyn And His Dog by Hon. W. R. Spencer
The spearman heard the bugle sound, And cheerily smiled the morn; And many a brach,
and many a hound, Obeyed Llewellyn's horn.
And still he blew a louder blast, And gave a louder cheer: "Come, Gelert, come, why are thou last
Llewellyn's horn to hear!
"Oh, where does faithful Gelert roam? The flower of all his race! So true, so brave -- a lamb at home,
A lion in the chase!"
'Twas only at Llewellyn's board The faithful Gelert fed; He watched, he served, he cheered his lord,
And sentinel'd his bed.
In sooth he was a peerless hound, The gift of Royal John - But now no Gelert could be found,
And all the chase rode on.
And now as over rocks and dells The gallant chidings rise, All Snowdon's craggy chaos yells
With many mingled cries.
That day Llewellyn little loved The chase of hart or hare; And scant and small the booty proved,
For Gelert was not there.
Unpleased Llewellyn homeward hied, When, near the portal-seat, His truant, Gelert, he espied,
Bounding his lord to greet.
But when he gained the castle-door, Aghast the chieftain stood; The hound all o'er was smeared with gore --
His lips, his fangs ran blood!
Llewellyn gazed with fierce surprise, Unused such looks to meet, His favorite checked his joyful guise,
And crouched and licked his feet.
Onward in haste Llewellyn passed -- And on went Gelert too -- And still, where'er his eyes were cast,
Fresh blood-gouts shocked his view!
O'erturned his infant's bed he found, The bloodstained covert rent, And all around, the walls and ground,
With recent blood besprent.
He called his child -- no voice replied; He searched -- with terror wild; Blood! blood! he found on every side,
But nowhere found the child!
"Hell-hound! my child's by thee devoured!" The frantic father cried; And, to the hilt,
his vengeful sword He plunged in Gelert's side!
His suppliant looks, as prone he fell, No pity could impart; But still his Gelert's dying yell, Passed heavy o'er his heart.
Aroused by Gelert's dying yell, Some slumberer wakened nigh: What words the parent's joy can tell,
To hear his infant cry?
Concealed beneath a tumbled heap, His hurried search had missed, All glowing from his rosy sleep
The cherub-boy he kissed.
Nor scathe had he, nor harm, nor dread -- But the same couch beneath Lay a gaunt wolf, all torn and
dead -- Tremendous still in death!
Ah! what was then Llewellyn's pain, For now the truth was clear;
The gallant hound the wolf had slain, To save Llewellyn's heir.
I have seen other references such as the same story told with a slightly different ending. In that version, the master was a knight and he threw the hounds body down a well. Now that well is blessed by the hounds loyal spirit and all manners of miracles are said to occur there. No doubt, there are even more versions and localities claiming the tale.
Do not judge rashly!
Oh, and yes, the Gelert in Neopets is said to be named for the legend.
Posted: Friday 26th May 2006, 4:43 PM
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