Welsh: The Story of Gelert

For background information about Prince Llewellyn along with other versions of this story, see the other Welsh unit: The Martyred Hound.

[Notes by LKG]

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This story is part of the Welsh (Emerson) unit. Story source: Welsh Fairy-Tales and Other Stories by Peter H. Emerson (1894).

The Story of Gelert

(as current in Anglesea)

[LIBRIVOX AUDIO]

It was somewhere about 1200; Prince Llewellyn had a castle at Aber, just abreast of us here — indeed, parts of the towers remain to this day. His consort was the Princess Joan; she was King John's daughter. Her coffin remains with us to this day. Llewellyn was a great hunter of wolves and foxes, for the hills of Carnarvonshire were infested with wolves in those days, after the young lambs.

Now the prince had several hunting-houses — sorts of farm houses; one of them was at the place now called Beth-Gelert, for the wolves were very thick there at this time. Now the prince used to travel from farm-house to farm-house with his family and friends when going on these hunting parties.

One season they went hunting from Aber and stopped at the house where Beth-Gelert is now — it's about fourteen miles away. The prince had all his hounds with him, but his favourite was Gelert, a hound who had never let off a wolf for six years.

The prince loved the dog like a child, and at the sound of his horn Gelert was always the first to come bounding up. There was company at the house, and one day they went hunting, leaving his wife and the child, in a big wooden cradle, behind him at the farm-house.

The hunting party killed three or four wolves, and about two hours before the word passed for returning home, Llewellyn missed Gelert, and he asked his huntsmen: "Where's Gelert? I don't see him."

"Well, indeed, master, I've missed him this half-hour."

And Llewellyn blew his horn, but no Gelert came at the sound.

Indeed, Gelert had got on to a wolf's track which led to the house.

The prince sounded the return, and they went home, the prince lamenting Gelert. "He's sure to have been slain —he's sure to have been slain! Since he did not answer the horn. Oh, my Gelert!"

And they approached the house, and the prince went into the house and saw Gelert lying by the overturned cradle, and blood all about the room.

"What! Hast thou slain my child?" said the prince, and ran his sword through the dog.

After that he lifted up the cradle to look for his child, and found the body of a big wolf underneath that Gelert had slain, and his child was safe. Gelert had capsized the cradle in the scuffle.

(illustration by John Batten)

"Oh, Gelert! Oh, Gelert!" said the prince; "My favourite hound, my favourite hound! Thou hast been slain by thy master's hand, and in death thou hast licked thy master's hand!" He patted the dog, but it was too late, and poor Gelert died licking his master's hand.

Next day they made a coffin and had a regular funeral, the same as if it were a human being, all the servants in deep mourning, and everybody. They made him a grave, and the village was called after the dog, Beth-Gelert — Gelert's Grave, and the prince planted a tree and put a gravestone of slate, though it was before the days of quarries. And they are to be seen to this day.

Next: Origin of the Welsh

(500 words)

Bidpai: The King, the Falcon, and the Drinking-Cup

Compare a similar story told in Tibet about a raven: How the Raven Saved the Hunter. The story is also very similar to the "Beth Gellert"-type of story which you can see here: Llewellyn and His Dog Gellert.

[Notes by LKG]

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This story is part of the Bidpai unit. Story source: The Tortoise and the Geese and Other Fables of Bidpai by Maude Barrows Dutton,  with illustrations by E. Boyd Smith, 1908.

(falcon)

The King, the Falcon, and the Drinking-Cup

IN bygone days there lived a King who was very fond of hunting. The King had a Falcon which he counted among his chief treasures. This Falcon the King always fed from his own hand and always carried on his own wrist when he went on the hunt.

One day, when the court was out a-hunting, a deer ran across their path and the King started in pursuit. Some of the royal party followed, but none of them could ride as well and as fast as the King. Through some accident the King did not overtake the deer and became separated from his companions.

Hot and thirsty from his long ride, he dismounted to find some water. For a long time he sought in vain, but at last came to the foot of a hill where a small stream was trickling down over the rocks. The King took a drinking-cup from his sash and held it beneath the stream, catching the water drop by drop. As soon as it was full, he raised the cup to his lips and was just about to drink when the Falcon flew up, hit the cup, and upset it.

"You awkward bird!" exclaimed the King, and began once more patiently to fill the cup from the stream. A second time the King raised it to his lips, and a second time the Falcon flew against it, knocking it from the King's hand. The thirsty King could no longer control his rage. He threw the Falcon to the ground with such force that he killed it instantly.

Just then one of the attendants rode up and, hearing that the King was thirsty, drew out his flask to give the King to drink. But the King shook his head.

"I have set my heart," he said, "on drinking from this stream which runs down the mountain-side, but it takes a long time to fill a cup drop by drop here at the bottom. Go therefore to the top of the hill and bring me down a cup of water from the source of this spring."

The attendant did as the King commanded but returned with his cup empty.

"Your Majesty," he cried, "you have been perilously near death. At the source of the spring lies a dead dragon whose poison has polluted the entire stream. Will your Majesty not drink of the water in my flask?"

He held out the cup, and as the King drank, the tears rolled down his face.

"Alas, why does the King weep?" asked the attendant, in great alarm.

The King picked up the dead bird. "This Falcon, the dearest of all my treasures," he said sadly, "saved my life twice, and I, by my own act of anger, killed it with one cruel blow!"

Next: The Two Travelers

(500 words)

Panchatantra: The Loyal Mongoose

This Indian story about the mongoose has traveled all over the world; in Europe the story is usually told about a loyal dog. The folklorist Dan Ashliman has collected versions of the story from many different countries: Llewellyn and His Dog Gellert. You can find several versions of this story here in the UnTextbook, too: Gelert Stories.

[Notes by LKG]

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This story is part of the Panchatantra unit. Story source: The Panchatantra of Vishnu Sharma, translated by Arthur W. Ryder (1925).

(mongoose, photo by Eddy Van)

The Loyal Mongoose

There was once a Brahman named Godly in a certain town. His wife mothered a single son and a mongoose. And as she loved little ones, she cared for the mongoose also like a son, giving him milk from her breast, and salves, and baths, and so on.

But she did not trust him, for she thought: "A mongoose is a nasty kind of creature. He might hurt my boy." Yes, there is sense in the proverb:

A son will ever bring delight,
Though bent on folly, passion, spite,
Though shabby, naughty, and a fright.

One day she tucked her son in bed, took a water-jar, and said to her husband: "Now, Professor, I am going for water. You must protect the boy from the mongoose." But when she was gone, the Brahman went off somewhere himself to beg food, leaving the house empty.

While he was gone, a black snake issued from his hole and, as fate would have it, crawled toward the baby's cradle. But the mongoose, feeling him to be a natural enemy, and fearing for the life of his baby brother, fell upon the vicious serpent halfway, joined battle with him, tore him to bits, and tossed the pieces far and wide. Then, delighted with his own heroism, he ran, blood trickling from his mouth, to meet the mother; for he wished to show what he had done.

But when the mother saw him coming, saw his bloody mouth and his excitement, she feared that the villain must have eaten her baby boy, and without thinking twice, she angrily dropped the water-jar upon him, which killed him the moment that it struck.

There she left him without a second thought, and hurried home, where she found the baby safe and sound, and near the cradle a great black snake, torn to bits. Then, overwhelmed with sorrow because she had thoughtlessly killed her benefactor, her son, she beat her head and breast.

At this moment the Brahman came home with a dish of rice gruel, which he had got from someone in his begging tour, and saw his wife bitterly lamenting her son, the mongoose.

"Greedy! Greedy!" she cried. "Because you did not do as I told you, you must now taste the bitterness of a son's death, the fruit of the tree of your own wickedness.

(400 words)

Aesop's Fables: Yet More Dogs

One of the charms of L'Estrange's great collection of fables is that he includes stories that are fable-like but which were not originally part of the Aesopic tradition (the French poet La Fontaine will do the same, drawing heavily on sources from India and the Middle East). On this page, for example, you will find a famous Welsh folktale, the story of the dog Gellert. You can find other versions of this same story in the Welsh reading units for this class: The Martyred Hound and The Story of Gelert.  

[Notes by LKG]

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These fables are part of the Aesop's Fables (English) unit. Story source: Story source: Fables of Aesop and Other Eminent Mythologists by Roger L'Estrange (1692).

Aesop's Fables: Yet More Dogs

A Sheep-Biter Hang'd

A Certain Shepherd had One Favourite Dog that he had a Particular Confidence in above all the rest. He fed him with his Own hand, and took more Care of him, in short, then of any of his Fellows. This Kindness went on a Long Time, till in Conclusion, upon the Missing of some Sheep, he fancy'd This Cur to be False to him.

After This Jealousy, he kept a Strict Eye upon him, and in fine, found it out, that this Trusty Servant of his was the Felon. Upon the Discovery, he had him presently taken up, bad him prepare for Execution.

"Alas! Master," says the Dog, "I am One of your Family, and 'twould be hard to put a Domestique to Extremities: Turn your Displeasure upon the Wolves rather, that make a Daily Practice on't to Worry your Sheep."

"No, no," says the Shepherd, "I'd sooner Spare Forty Wolves that make it their Profession to Kill Sheep, then One Sheep-biting Cur that's Trusted with the Care of them. There's somewhat of Frankness and Generosity in the One; but the Other is the Basest of Treacheries."

No Perfidy like Breach of Faith and Trust, under the Seal of Friendship: For an Adversary under that Masque, is much more Unpardonable then a Bare-fac'd Enemy.


A Trusty Dog and his Master

The Master of a Family that had, as he thought, a very good Condition'd Dog; coming home from his Bus'ness once, found a Cradle Overturn'd; the Dog's Mouth all Bloody, and his only Child missing. He draws his Sword immediately and Kills the Dog, upon a Presumption that he had Worryed the Child, without any regard to his Try'd Fidelity, and without Allowing himself One Moment of Time for a Second Thought.

Upon a further Enquiry, he found the Truth of the Matter to be this: The Child being left alone in the Cradle, there was a Serpent Winding it self up the Side on't, to Destroy the Child. The Dog leaps upon the Serpent, and Tears it to Pieces; but in the Scuffle, the Cradle happen'd to be Overturn'd: Upon the taking up of the Cradle, the Master found the Child Alive under it, and the Serpent Dead, which, upon Reflexion, Convinc'd him of the Miserable Temerity of his Mistake.

The Repentance of a whole Life, is not sufficient to Atone for the Miscarriage of One Rash Action.

Next: Cats and Weasels

(illustration by Griset)

(400 words)

Celtic Fairy Tales: Beth Gellert

This story is part of the Celtic Fairy Tales (1) unit. Story source: Celtic Fairy Tales by Joseph Jacobs with illustrations by John D. Batten (1892).

Beth Gellert

LIBRIVOX AUDIO: Beth Gellert

PRINCE LLEWELYN had a favourite greyhound named Gellert that had been given to him by his father-in-law, King John. He was as gentle as a lamb at home, but a lion in the chase.

One day Llewelyn went to the chase and blew his horn in front of his castle. All his other dogs came to the call but Gellert never answered it. So he blew a louder blast on his horn and called Gellert by name, but still the greyhound did not come. At last Prince Llewelyn could wait no longer and went off to the hunt without Gellert. He had little sport that day because Gellert was not there, the swiftest and boldest of his hounds.

He turned back in a rage to his castle, and, as he came to the gate, who should he see but Gellert come bounding out to meet him. But when the hound came near him, the Prince was startled to see that his lips and fangs were dripping with blood. Llewelyn started back and the greyhound crouched down at his feet as if surprised or afraid at the way his master greeted him.

Now Prince Llewelyn had a little son a year old with whom Gellert used to play, and a terrible thought crossed the Prince's mind that made him rush towards the child's nursery. And the nearer he came, the more blood and disorder he found about the rooms. He rushed into it and found the child's cradle overturned and daubed with blood.

Prince Liewelyn grew more and more terrified, and sought for his little son everywhere. He could find him nowhere, but only signs of some terrible conflict in which much blood had been shed.

At last he felt sure the dog had destroyed his child, and, shouting to Gellert, "Monster, thou hast devoured my child," he drew out his sword and plunged it in the greyhound's side, who fell with a deep yell and still gazing in his master's eyes.

As Gellert raised his dying yell, a little child's cry answered it from beneath the cradle, and there Llewelyn found his child unharmed and just awakened from sleep. But just beside him lay the body of a great gaunt wolf all torn to pieces and covered with blood.

Too late, Llewelyn learned what had happened while he was away. Gellert had stayed behind to guard the child, and had fought and slain the wolf that had tried to destroy Llewelyn's heir.

In vain was all Llewelyn's grief; he could not bring his faithful dog to life again. So he buried him outside the castle walls within sight of the great mountain of Snowdon, where every passer-by might see his grave, and raised over it a great cairn of stones. And to this day the place is called Beth Gellert, or the Grave of Gellert.

Next: The Tale of Ivan

(500 words)

Welsh Fairy Book: The Martyred Hound

Llywelyn the Great, the Prince of Gwynedd, rules Wales for forty years in the early thirteenth century, and there are many legends and tales about him.  The supposed site of Beth Gelert (Beddgelert) in Snowdonia is a popular tourist attraction. Dan Ashliman has collected variations on the story of Llewellyn and His Dog Gellert, and they date back to an ancient Indian story about a brahmin's wife and their mongoose.

Explore: For other stories about legendary rulers, see Arthur in the Cave and March's Ears.

[notes by LKG]

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This story is part of the Welsh Fairy Tales unit. Story source: The Welsh Fairy Book by W. Jenkyn Thomas with illustrations by Willy Pogány (1908).

The Martyred Hound

PRINCE LLYWELYN had a favourite, greyhound named Gelert that had been given him by his father-in-law, King John of England. He was as gentle as a lamb at home, but a lion in the chase, so true and so brave that he had no equal in the whole of his master's dominion. He fed only at Llywelyn's board and sentinelled Llywelyn's bed.

One fine morning the prince determined to go to the chase, and blew his horn in front of the castle. All his other hounds came to the call, but Gelert did not answer it. He blew a louder blast on his horn and shouted, "Come, Gelert, come," saying to his huntsman that it was strange that Gelert should be the last to hear his horn. But still the greyhound did not come, and the chase had to ride on without him.

Llywelyn enjoyed the chase of hart and hare through the vales of Snowdon but little that day, and the booty proved scant and small because Gelert was not there. Disappointed and displeased he turned back to his castle, and as he came to the gate whom should he see but Gelert bounding out to greet him.

When the hound came near him the prince was startled to see that he was smeared all over with gore, and that his lips and fangs were dripping with blood. Llywelyn gazed at him with fierce surprise, and the greyhound crouched and licked his feet, as if surprised or afraid at the way his master received his greeting.

Now, Llywelyn had a little son about two years old with whom Gelert used to play, and the thought that the hound seemed guilty of something or other made him hurry towards the child's nursery, Gelert following at his heels. Entering, he saw the floor and walls besprent with recent blood, and, worst of all, the child's cradle was overturned; the coverlet was torn and all was daubed with blood. Llywelyn called his son, but no voice replied: he searched for him, wild with terror, but nowhere could he find him.

He jumped to the conclusion that Gelert had destroyed his boy, and shouting, "Hell-hound, thou hast devoured my child," the frantic father drew his sword and plunged it to the hilt in the greyhound's side, who fell with a deep groan, gazing piteously in his master's eyes.

Gelert's dying groan was answered by a little child's cry from beneath the overturned cradle. There concealed beneath a tumbled heap which he had missed in his hurried search, Llywelyn found his little son unharmed and glowing from his rosy sleep. Just beside him lay the body of a great, gaunt wolf, all torn to pieces and stiff in death. Too late, Llywelyn realised what had happened while he was at the chase: Gelert had fought and slain the wolf which had come to destroy Llywelyn's heir.

In vain was all Llywelyn's grief: he could not bring his faithful hound to life again. So he buried him and raised a noble tomb over his bones, repenting his rashness with many tears. He could never bear the thought of the chase after this, and hung his horn and hunting spear at Gelert's grave. To this day the place is called Bedd Gelert, or the Grave of Gelert, and if you go there you will be shown the spot where the remains of the martyred hound lie.

(Dolwyddelan Castle, built by Prince Llewelyn)

(600 words)