The Chronicle of Clemendy/How a Man of Caerleon Found a Great Treasure

by Arthur Machen

HOW A MAN OF CAERLEON FOUND A GREAT TREASURE

MY TALE shall be of Caerleon-on-Uske; and since the Spigot Clerk devised his history of Abergavenny wherein our Court now holds session, it will not be amiss if I speak somewhat of Caerleon, whereat the tosspots of Gwent were first banded together by our glorious King Arthur, of right worthy memory. But I will not tell you any stories of roofs shining like gold, or of the tower that overtopped Christchurch Hill and looked on to the Severn Sea, or of chargeable palaces, standing splendidly in the little town, since all these things are underground like the Barons of Burgavenny and have become somewhat wearisome. But what I have to tell happened about two hundred years agone, when Caerleon was little different from what it is now, or from what it will be two hundred years hence, if the curtain do not fall on our merry Comedy, ere that time be accomplished. Now you have it well set in your heads that as there are two Sicilies, so there are two Caerleons, one on this side the bridge, and one on the other; and there being two Caerleons I must tell you that he, concerning whom this history is related, dwelt in Caerleon-over-Bridge, and in a little hut by the river's bank, not far from the bridge itself. As for his name it was Griffith, and he was called Griffith the Delver, and sometimes Twrch Ddær which is in the letter Earth-Hog and in the spirit Mole; hence we see how poetical and florid is the language of the Welsh. This Griffith was in fact one of those that are eternally digging, who dig early and late and leave no rest for our old Mother Earth, who must surely be more patient than most ladies, since they heartily dislike being scratched. It is true that a girl does not object to being tickled, if you do it nicely, and choose the right places; but there can be no resemblance between a lover's finger-tips "desipientes in loco" and the rough blows of spade, mattock, and pick-axe striking here, there, and everywhere, turning everything upside down. And of all diggers and delvers Griffith was the most sempiternal, for he dug deep, turning the clods well over, and never left off. And yet he was not a common spade-man, and never thought of planting anything in the bares he made, and indeed his operations were in no way agricultural; since in place of putting seeds into the ground, his aim was to draw something out of it. He was in fine a treasure monger, having been bitten with this madness when a boy, and when he was a good many years better than three-score, was not yet cured. His malady was caused by his overhearing two monks talking together of the enormous treasure that the old Romans and the British Kings had concealed; and as these two ecclesiastics were very great liars and engaged at that time in compiling a Chronicle, you may be sure that they heaped up gold, silver, and jewels to an incredible and monstrous degree. One was describing with minute exactitude the twelve chests of pure silver, each of two feet in length, two feet in breadth, and two feet in depth, each sealed with King Arthur's seal, the Red Dragon, and buried in the midst of St. Julian's wood, under a great stone. "And the first," said the holy man, "hath in it twelve diamonds, each several diamond being cut in twelve facets and each standing for a Knight of the Round Table. And the twelfth of the price of a single stone would suffice to build a Cathedral Church, more chargeable than any church in Christendom, and plentiful to endow it with lands for the Dean, Canons, Vicars, Prebends, songmen, and quiristers, so that it should be better served than the quire of Canterbury." "And the second," broke in the other monk, "hath in it twelve Rubies, each ruby the size of a man's head, and each standing for a saint of Britain." "And the third," quoth the first monk, "hath in it twelve opals, shining with every colour in the universe, most glorious to see, and each personates a beautiful lady of King Arthur's Court." In this fashion they ran through the twelve chests as if it had been a grocer and his man, ticking off casks of sugar; and never a smile on the faces of them. Next they made a bill of ingots of gold, to the number of one hundred and twenty-five, sunken in the Uske, in a straight line from Merthollye Chapel, each ingot being stamped with the name of a Roman Emperor, but they could not quite agree together as to which of the Emperors had owned this great treasure. So they proceeded to emerald vases filled to the brim and over-running with gold pieces, to cups and chalices of pure gold and of a monstrous size, with pattens, flagons, brooches, chains (one was of a thousand links, and did use to be hung across the lists of turney), crosses, mitres, rings, candelabra, till the lad's head fairly went round to hear of all this wealth and much of it within a few yards of him. For the two Cistercians left nothing conjectural, but laid down precisely where each hoard was to be sought for, and seemed likely to continue the list to infinity. But just as one of them was speaking of the great bell twelve feet high, and fashioned of pure gold that hung in the Castle Mound, the bells of his Abbey rung out and called them both away to Evensong. But Master Griffith stood still where he was, being quite unable to move, since it never came into his head that the two monks were mere historians, who were getting their hands in for the writing-room. But hearing them note every particular so exactly and precisely, even to the depth in feet and inches below the surface, he conceived them to be speaking the truth, as some people have done since his time, and with less excuse, for Griffith was thought to have always been a little simple. And from the time when he heard these ecclesiastical narrations the poor lad became unable to sleep well at night, for the light of the jewels shone before his eyes and filled the nasty dirty room with a splendid and wonderful glow, blood-red, and golden, and sapphire, and twelve blinding rays from the twelve diamonds shot through all the other hues, and dimmed his eyes with glory. Then the walls changed to gold and silver, the door was a slice of a single emerald, and his head got muddled, and he began to fancy all sorts of things still more extraordinary. As for eating and drinking it became tedious to him, for a wooden platter and piggin were not nearly so fine as the patterns and chalices he had heard tell of, and so he did not trouble himself to devour their contents, the which was somewhat foolish, it must be confessed. And when he was sauntering about in the meadows he did nothing but twist his neck and try to stare the sun out of countenance; for he had heard one monk telling the other of a marvellous dish, "whereof the compass was one twelfth of the compass of the Round Table, of a metal that was neither gold nor silver, but more excellent than either, and having in its center the Name Iao, written in the character of the magicians. Which dish was made by no artificer nor mortal worker in metal, but proceeded from a supernatural marriage or conjunction of the sun and moon, and was drawn down to earth by Merlin, and now lies five feet three inches below the midst of the Round Table." Of this extraordinary nonsense much was lost on Griffith, but he nevertheless made it his business to keep a sharp look out on the heavenly bodies, in order to catch them at their amorous play, the nature of which he understood very imperfectly and was desirous of learning. But this amusement brought him nothing better than a wry neck, and he was forced to conclude that love-affairs up above were transacted much as they are down here, that is in strict privacy. And he was no sooner able to get a spade than he began to dig and make holes wherever he thought there was treasure; for though Griffith's wits were not perhaps of the brightest, yet he perfectly remembered every circumstance he had heard, and indeed the whole story seemed written in fiery letters on the air. So he sought now in one place and now in another for all these fine things, and folks soon became aware of his folly, the which was deemed very entertaining, and a piece of a blessing in dull times when there was very little to laugh at. But when the two historians heard of the Delver, they understood the matter thoroughly, and were vexed at it, for they were pious men, desirous of amusing people and not of driving them mad. So they went together to Griffith and endeavoured to open his understanding and to show him the true state of the case; but to no avail, for he, an unlettered man, had no notion of History, and thought the two monks were trying to make a fool of him that they might keep all the treasure for themselves. Perceiving the poor man's madness the historians did the best they were able, and interceded with the Abbot so that the Delver was fed at the Almonry every day for the rest of his life, the which was, as I said at the beginning of my tale, spent in turning earth upside down, wandering through St. Julian's wood, prodding walls, poking under the roots of trees, and the like investigations. Before long the Caerleon people had got used to Griffith, and no longer took the trouble to laugh at him; indeed a gentleman who had a large garden tried to profit by his little infirmity, and caused it to be conveyed to the Mole that this garden aforesaid certainly contained gold and silver in abundance to be had for the digging. By which device he hoped to have his soil turned over very cheaply, but the fish, as the saying goes, would not bite; Griffith having certain fixed notions of his own capable of no amendment or alteration. So for forty years and more he persisted in this folly, for the twelve rays of the twelve diamonds still blinded him, and the great golden bell within the Castle Mound rung all through the night in a deep mellow voice, and to him the painted images in the windows of the Quire were rubies and sapphires beyond all price. And in these fantastic imaginations he would doubtless have died peacefully enough, had it not been for the coming of a stranger to Caerleon, a merry young gentleman, who was fond of folly and always encouraged it to the best of his ability, who seeing Griffith mooning about the place and driving his spade into the earth, enquired as to the reason of these proceedings, and was observed when his understanding had been enlightened, to grow suddenly grave and thoughtful, as he was accustomed when a joke came into his head. And henceforth the wag watched the Delver at his work, and noted how he often came back to one place, namely the bottom of the Round Table; for the great dish neither gold nor silver but better than either, had taken Griffith's fancy, perhaps because it was a little out of the common. But if I had been in his place I believe I should have let this dish lie, since the goldsmiths would be very likely to say unkind things about it, as stupid people always do of matters beyond their comprehension. But the young gentleman seeing how Griffith was everlastingly at the bottom of the hollow took his measures, and then sat down to see what would come of them. And of a dark, windy night, with sudden gusts of rain blowing up from Severn Sea; as Griffith the Delver sat in his horrible little den by the riverside his thoughts ran as usual on the buried treasure of Caerleon; and the notion, species and imagination of the wonderful dish pricked him more violently than it had ever done, so that he was forced to take his spade, light his lantern, and sally forth without delay. And as he went over the bridge, the wind gave a howl, and the rain dashed in his face, and he felt the whole scaffold shake and quiver beneath him, as if it desired to sail down the river into the open sea. In fine it was precisely the sort of night to have put out an ordinary lantern in what is sometimes called a brace of shakes, but Griffith's lantern had been made by himself on scientific principles and would have hung from the mast of a ship off Cape Thundertops, without so much as a wink or half a twinkle. It was a glorious lantern, a credit to the town, and had been out in all weathers and at all times of the day and night in search of ideas, conceits, fictions, and all the flowery inventions of the monastic chroniclers. With this treasure of a lantern and the sempiternal light which the diamonds flashed into the Delver's brain, he made his way in a few minutes to the Round Table and was soon digging away as if he were twenty and going to work for the first time, instead of being as he was sixty and more, and a very old hand at this foolish business. And when he had dug to the depth of about three feet his spade struck somewhat that was neither earth nor stone and made a clanging noise, the which was the sweetest sound the Delver had heard since the monks talked together of the twelve chests of pure silver. So he propped the lantern on a lump of earth and stooped down, and felt warily with his hands in the place the noise came from; and before long drew out a quaintly shapen vase, of a greenish colour and mighty heavy in the hands. Just then the lantern overbalanced and fell into the hole, but of course that did not make it go out or burn its own sides, like lanterns do nowadays; so Griffith set it back in its place more securely, and sat down and dipped his hand into the green vase. It was very nearly full to the brim with coins; they slipped between his fingers and slid along his palm, and went chink, chink, chink either against other, and against the vase, and then the golden bell inside the mound began to toll and the glorious ruby and sapphire lights glowed out and filled all the Round Table with their flames. And Griffith saw the Twelve Knights sitting each in his place guarding the mystic rose, and each Knight had on his forehead a diamond cut in twelve facets, from which the rays shot forth with incredible brightness: and above all the Knights the great King Arthur, into whose eyes it was impossible to look, for they were of a very terrible beauty. Then these things faded and a mist closed about the Delver, who sat in the place he had made for himself, clutching the vase with one hand, the lantern with another, and having the spade between his legs. And this mist was pearly white, but yet it was also of manifold colours, that went and came and glowed and faded and seemed full of lovely faces and figures that might have attracted the poor man if he had not been getting rather astonished at these strange sights. In a desperate sort of way he drove his hand again into the vase and felt the coins, and all these glamours immediately vanished; but the lantern still burnt on, and Griffith thought that he would like to have a look at his treasure trove. And to have this pleasure he accordingly turned the vase upside down and a great stream of coins poured out; at the sight of which Griffith's heart stood still and he swooned quite away. For you see they were only copper coins of modern date which the wag had buried a few days before; but the Delver was terribly disappointed that they were not gold. You and I and everybody else would be glad enough to find a crown's worth in pence and halfpence; once can buy a good deal with five shillings, but the Delver had hoped for rather more than he got, and his animal spirits and humours for the next ten minutes had a bad time of it. And I daresay you would guess that when he regained his senses there were very few left to him, you would say, in short, that though he was crazy before, now he was a raving madman. But the real facts were quite opposite; for instead of losing his wits altogether he got back those he had lost forty years before, and sat down and began to ponder matters reasonably, and consider what was best to be done. And now all sorts of notions came into his head, and notions to some purpose, for among the rest in some wonderful way the Delver found out who had put this trick upon him, and determined to cry quits before another nightfall. So without delay he emptied the coppers into a bag he had about him, threw the vase back into the hole and heaped the earth over it, and then with his bag, lantern, and spade he set off at a sharp walk for the house of him who had devised this piece of trickery. And having reached his doorway, Griffith fell once more to his old trade, I mean of digging, and long before the light dawned he had constructed a spacious and luxurious pit, fairly deep, with a puddle at the bottom of it, and also a few sharp jagged stones by way of relish. And why or wherefore old Twrch Ddaer took all this trouble, is more than I can tell you; but it certainly seemed rather likely that anyone going in or coming out of the house, without due warning, would fall into this pit aforesaid, and so indeed it happened. For the gay young joker came home with a companion early in the morning, their heads being in a very muddled state and their notions in great confusion, and their throats spouting out scraps of drinking songs. Cor imbutum nectare volat ad superna, hiccoughs one; Nasonem post calices facile paeibo stutters the other; and then they began to quote all the most wanton pieces of Ovidius Naso they could remember, which were not very many, seeing they were too drunk. However they made shift to help one another through that naughty and amorous canticle 'Twas very hot, when at noonday; and then they began to discuss the beauties of certain ladies of their acquaintance, so you may judge what sort of a night they had been spending in the house where the lights never went out, for the porter was too deaf to hear the curfew, and the ladies and their friends were dancing, laughing, singing, and fiddling in such wise that they heard no noises save those of their own making. And being in this state of mind you will not wonder that in the dim twilight of dawn the two companions saw nothing of the Delver's preparations for their comfort, but went merrily on, and in the natural course of things fell one on top of the other into the pit, where they sustained a good many bruises against the sharp stones, and (it is said) quite dried up the pool of water at the bottom, being young gentlemen of a mighty warm complexion. Here they lay very quietly, not puzzling their heads about anything, but taking it easily and keeping still, until a servant opened the door an hour or two later, and saw his master and his friend waiting to be let in after the fashion I have described. In the meantime Griffith the Mole had gone into exile somewhere on the other side of Wentwood Chase, since he suspected that this item might be set down to his account, and the bill presented in a manner not at all to his taste. However a few weeks after the wag left Caerleon, not liking the Welsh way of joking, and it is said that he died shortly afterwards of a bad sore throat, a complaint which was very common in those glorious old days, in fine he lost his head, and that is a loss fatal to all of us unless we happen to be saints and then, you know, one can pick up one's head and go up the hill. As for Griffith the Delver he returned to his hovel in Caerleon-over-Bridge, and though he missed at first the flaming light of the jewells and the tolling of the golden bell, yet he settled down and passed the remnant of his days in great comfort. But he did no more digging for he had found a much better employment than scratching and tormenting Mother Earth. What was that? Why to do nothing, of which he soon learnt the art, for he was a good Silurian at bottom and most likely never would have done anything all his life, if he had not been so unfortunate as to hear how History is written. So he sat in the sun in summer and by the fire in winter, and the good old monks took care of him and gave him plenty to eat and drink while he was alive, and a handsome funeral with plenty of tapers after that he had finished with this world; the which event happened when he was aged ninety-five and getting rather tired. For this is what we must all come to, even if we pass our days in the beautiful sunlight and by the warm hearth, doing nothing; since even of this a man gets tired in time. And then he looks out for a nice quiet corner in the churchyard and curls himself round and goes to sleep, and doesn't answer when they come to call him in the morning. Then it's no good to hammer at the door and bellow "Hi! get up, it's half-past twelve. Are you going to sleep all day?" since the old Silurian doesn't hear anything and lies very still. But of this story there are two morals: and the first is Don't believe everything the historians tell you; and the second Keep sober till the joke be over: and I think these are good morals, especially the last.

Thus Nick Leonard brought his tale of Caerleon to a close; and we all praised him for it, though we had found it in parts a little tedious; but yet on the whole it is a pleasant, moral, story. The Rubrican however said: "I find fault with this tale and also the tale of Sir Jenkin, and my fault is that in the both of them the wrong circumstance hath been chosen, and the less made the greater. For consider, Phil, what a sweet mournful tale of love you could have devised of the Noble Bastard and the Lady Isabella; and you Nick I believe could have told us some adventure of the waggish gentleman far more pleasant than the folly of the old Mole, who was, I am convinced, an ass." "It always seems thus," answered Phil Ambrose, "to those who hear the stories; but if you will take thought you will see plainly that piteous love par amours is a tale that has been told many times; aye, verily since the world was in her orchard days and apples meant more than they do now, this story has been still weaving; and so soon as ever the scissors cut one smock in twain another is on the loom." But Nick Leonard said: "Since Tom doth take on him the part of Cato, he shall tell the next story and sit in the Bard's seat; and there let him show his right to draw the thumbnail under our fine phrases and moralities, or else for ever hold his peace." "It is decreed," said I, "squat thee down Master Rubrican; and the Spigot Clerk shall preconise silence after our laudable custom and use." Then Phil Ambrose poured out a glass of wine, sent it down fairly, and sang in a severe and ancient mode—O let not any voice be heard, my lords of Gwent: for by these things the sweet method of laughter is shown to you, and how the ale surges upon the Brim of the whole world.