Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1891-02-01
Places in England That Lend Reality
to the Pretty Stories
OF KING ARTHUR AND ROBIN H00p.
The Heroes Live in Traditions That Weren't
Inspired by Pens.
STORIES OF SCOTLAND AND IRELAND

Wudt may De termed literary luentinoosoh'
Over there in Ireland what can be more
fascinating than silent ramble about
slumberous old Youehal and up drowsy
KIlcolman way? There Raleigh and Spenser
lived, loved and wrought. Tramping from
/ Killarney to Cahersiveen, one fingers low
ingly at Carhan Bridge; for beside 1t, the
| great O'Connell was born. Who but
| bigot can climb the Rock of Cashel without
subdued and reverential feeling from the
| historic and sacred surroundings; or
| who, but an insensate, shudders not
at Boyne and Aughrim where the
life of a nation broke in its last
wild throb upon river and morass? Then,
at Slane. who can fail of awe in the pres
ence of prehistoric monuments rivallng the
pyramids themselves To stand upon Tara's
Hill, in Meath, and in isncy see st. Patrick,
unmindful OF the treacbery planning his
death, with his eight devoted followers, COM
! ing up the royal hill, chanting his prayer.
'May the word of God render me eloquent ]"
| to forever dim the fires of Belltaine with the
| sacred flame of Christianity through the
| conversion of King Laeghaire, and the over
| throw of pagauism in Ireland, is to come
with startling tenderness close to an inspired
career of one who lived but to bless, nearly
| 1,500 years ago. Vague and far it was to
you before. But you feel and know the
story now.
Scotland's Interesting Spots.
In all that can be read of the 'Land O.
Cakes" how the true feeling is lacking, un-
| til one weds presence and actuality with the
| toneIess tales of words. To know the weird
srraths and glens of the North, to breathe
their air, drink in their wild and gorgeous
- ieha fof fha Of fhnIr ol n
| rious waterfalls, to sail over their silent
| lochs, to tremble in their mighty storms, is
to cone very close in thought and sympathy
to that grand and noble race which all the
Roman legions could not conquer. Its des-
perate, iateful loyalty to the House of
Stuart can never be fully understood until
you have tramped from the Western Ocean
to the German, aud wandered on Culloden
| Moor.
Macbeth, King Duncan and Malcolm
Canmore, are mere creatures OF Shake
speare's fancy, until you find in the musty
records of old Inverness that they once
, walked its streets with all of your own pas
sion, hope. ambition: and until you have
stood on Tomnahaurich, by the Ness-side,
you have never really known Hugh Miller,
stonemason, great heart and sage. Scott,
| the "Ettrick Shepherd" Carlyle, even
Burns himself, are half ideal, until you
have stood by the Ettrick and Yarrow,
sadly LETT the prineely Abbotsford, shud-
| dered at the doiorous dearth and meanness
| of Carlyle's boyhood home at Ecclefechan.
| and heard with your own hearing the melo-
dious songs Of the NTH and the Doom.
What England Offers.
| If this is true of ireland and Scotland
| how infinitely more impressive is this identi-
] fication to the average American pilgrim in
! England, the motherland of our own race
and tongue. A mighty volume, and sweet
and tender one withal. could be made, rele-
| eating apparent realities to their home in
myth-land, and beckoning from the realms
| of legend and tradh1on the actual beings
whom imagery first swept from reality, and
whom successive centuries of poetic fancy,
shared alike by US frcn childhood to man.
hood, have placed further and further be-
hind the ever loved veilings of mystery and
song.
| No two characters in the semi-mythology
of Britain are better illustrations than those
of King Arthur and Robin Hood. Anti
types as they we're and are, the one the en-
bodiment of the loftiest and noblest quail
ties in ruler aud man, the other, jocuud
Anarchist and Puckish freebooter and
"leveller" of his time both are objects of
equal, though unlike. devotion not only in
| the literature OF centuries, but in the breasts
| of millions who speak the English tongue.
| The most curious thing about these two
characters is that the least aids to identif-
cation are found among the high-minded
and learned. Literature universally places
them in shadow-land. But g" where you
may among the English lowly, King Arthur
| is really there; Robin Hood, with his faith
full Little John, Friar Tuck and their
hundred archers bold, are ever a goodly
company, a helpful, unconscious, ethical
| counterpose, it has sometimes seemed to
me, where burdens and imposltions of caste
and condition are most grievous and sore to
abide.
Once Really Existed.
A few years of wandering among the
| British lowly, more than all reading and
| study, have convinced me that both King
| Arthur and Robin Hood once really existed
and lived much the same manner Of lives as
the song and ballad Makers altogether re-
| sponsible for their legendary character. have
shadowed FORTH / can take you into thou
sands of cabins in Devonshire, Cornwall,
and in Brittany-ror King Arthur is even
more a god to the Britons than to the West
| of England Armorican Celts-where books
are unknown; where no manner Of literature
| ever came; where history of clan and sept
have been preserved from father to son,
where the Arthurian legends live more
bright and glowing than all the printed tales
of the Round Table. These absolutely book
! less folk will take you to the very land
ing place of King Uther; show YOU the
real remains OF the twin castles Tintagel
and Terrabil; relate how Uther Pendragon
besieged the Duke of Cornwall, slew him,
and the same day wed his widow, Ygrayne,
| to whom the Cchild, Arthur, was born, and
reared by the enchanter, Merlin, under good
/ Sir Ector's care, who restored to him the
kingdom of Cornwall on Pendragon's s death;
how the noble King Arthur instituted the
Order of knights of the Round Table,
whose sanity acts in the service of God and
man, until they fell into sin. were deeds Of
good and glory; how Arthur loved only and
wed Gulnevere, betrayed by Launcelot; and,
at last, receiving his death wound in battle
with his rebellious nephew's forces at
4 Camelford (Which the poets make Camelo),
Arthur bade the loyal knight, Sir Bedever,
carry him to Dozmare Pool, fling his sword
Excalibur therein, when a boat. rowed by
three queens, appeared. Into this Arthur
was lifted and borne away to the island vale
of Avillion, that his grievous wound might
be healed.
His Spirit Yet Returns.
These folk sJy, and believe, that Arthurjs
still in fairyland; that his spirit often re-
turns in the guise of bird, the enough, how
ering about the old scenes with pathetic
murmurings, and that he will surely come
again,
Wearing the white flower of a blameless life,
to reign as king should and might over his
beloved England. Literature.never pro-
vided an hundred Thousand bookless folk
with this. It remains, because in 1t has
| hoan mia atc fadalnSS