Lyderic, the Orphan

In the middle ages, the holy saint Willebrod spent his life in doing

good among the Dutch and Belgian tribes. His relics rest in the church

at Echternach, in Luxemburg.

When trouble of any sort came upon the country people, they looked to

him for help and advice.

In a certain year, a plague came upon their cattle. The poor dumb

creatures acted as if they had brain fever. They were giddy, and

staggered about, going round and round, but seemed to be unable to go

forward. So the fields could not be ploughed and the cows would not

give milk. The babies cried, the land was threatened with barrenness,

and the people feared starvation.

In their distress, they came before the tomb of the good bishop, and

made a vow that, if the pestilence ceased, they would, every year, make

a pilgrimage to the church in which he was buried.

Now the curious thing, about this pilgrimage, was the manner in which

it was carried out. To some extent, the people imitated, in their

dancing and gestures, the odd behavior of the cattle, during their

brain disorder. It became the fashion to leap and stagger, as the

smitten beasts had done. In times, however, the celebration took the

form of a processional, with bands of music.

So, every year, the long line of thousands of people, old and young,

rich and poor, strong and weak, sick and well, led by the musicians,

and all singing as they went, started from the river bridge. They

walked hand in hand, and four abreast, and this was the method of their

march; they would take three steps forward, and two steps backward. In

this way, they would advance, very gradually, to the hill where the

church stands. Having reached this, they laid their gifts upon the

altar and then danced down the church aisle, to the porch, door and

outside.

One can see, that, to make an advance of one step, the dancers and

singers had to take five distinct steps. In this way, although the

route from the river to the church was only one mile, in length, five

hours were required to go the whole route. Many joined in the

procession who were so old and weak, that they were likely to fall

down. Nevertheless many weak folk, tried it, for they hoped to get rid

of their pains and aches.

Especially hard was the ascent of the sixty stone steps, on the

hillside. To mount to the top, five hundred human steps were necessary.

Thus it happened that not a few fell down along the march. Fainting and

weary, they were left by the wayside. On the church steps, strong men

stood by, on either side, to watch for any, who, from weakness, should

lose their balance and fall down. Those who were likely to do so, or

could not keep up, had to be dragged away quickly, lest they should be

crushed by the waves of the oncoming dancers. In the frenzy of fervor

and excitement, those who were waltzing, with giddy brains, might be so

absorbed in their own motions, as not to notice what they were doing.

Now there was a young widow, who, out of grief, and hoping for comfort,

had come to join in the procession. Being the bride of a few months,

she was hoping for a son, and had vowed to St. Willebrod that, if she

became the mother of a boy, she would dance from the river’s edge to

the saint’s tomb. She prayed fervently that her hopes might be

fulfilled.

She joined in the procession, and followed faithfully the rules laid

down, but, when scarcely half way to the church, she felt her strength

giving out. Fearing lest, if she continued, she might be trampled to

death, she left the procession. Then, after a brief rest, she walked

out from the open road, some distance into the forest.

There, in her loneliness, her child was born, and it was a boy. Though

she rejoiced to have her own, and its father’s hopes fulfilled, yet she

felt that she had so overtaxed her strength, in the dancing procession,

that she was likely to die.

So, wrapping her babe in one of her own garments, she laid it down on a

little bed of fallen leaves. Then scraping clean a part of the ground,

she wrote, with a stick, upon the dirt, the name “Lyderic.” Then, her

last measure of strength having ebbed away, she died.

A pious hermit, whose dwelling was a hut in the forest, while strolling

about, heard the infant’s wail. Coming near the place, whence the sound

proceeded, he found the dead mother and the living child. Something

else also met his sight and a very wonderful picture it was. There on

the bed of leaves, which the mother had scraped up, lay the baby boy.

Beside him, lying along the floor of the forest was a doe, and this

female deer was suckling the infant. This dumb mother of fawns seemed

as careful and as anxious, as if the baby had been her own offspring;

and indeed, it was not far away in the deep woods, that the doe kept

her little family.

The baby boy, not knowing anything about different kinds of mothers, or

qualities of food, was as active, as if living in the nursery of a

house, and fondled on a human mother’s lap.

The fawn’s large, deep, lustrous eyes, were appealing to the old

hermit’s heart. The wild creature did not tremble, or show any fear,

for every beast of the forest seemed to know, and love the old man; as

if realizing that he was their friend, and not an enemy, as the hunters

were. They could see that he had no weapons, and even a bird could

understand that.

The body of the human mother was given Christian burial, though the

only conscious mourner was the old man, who hastily made a rustic

cross, and set it over the grave; on which, also, he planted some wild

flowers.

Now the hermit was not accustomed to take care of babies, but he made a

rude cradle; and, every day, the doe mother came, as regularly as to

her own little deer, to furnish nourishment to the child. So the infant

grew to double his first weight and gave every promise of health and

vigor. In a few months, he was crawling on the floor, in the hermit’s

hut; and, according to his mother’s writing on the ground, Lyderic was

his name.

To the old man, the days and months seemed to fly very fast, as

babyhood was left behind, and a robust boy was growing up.

The old hermit recalled his own boyhood’s skill at such things, and

made toys for the little fellow, who played happily with them. Anything

bright, or shining, was especially attractive to the child.

One day, while the hermit was out among the willow trees, which skirted

the stream, to make a whistle, for the baby boy, the fairies came into

the hut and visited him at his cradle. They were traveling fairies, for

they had come all the way from Wales. One of them, was named Morgana,

or, as she was well known, Morgana la Fay. She fell in love with the

little fellow, and promised that when he grew up, he was to be her

love, while all the fairies agreed to bestow on him the gifts of mind

and body, through which he might become a great man and conquer all his

enemies.

It would make our story too long, to tell how Lyderic, even while a

baby boy, was looked upon as the leader of men, in one of those civil

wars, which so long troubled Belgic Land. Once, during battle, his

cradle was hung upon a tree branch, and he was called the baby leader,

and centuries afterwards, a statue and a fountain were reared at

Brussels in his honor.

Lyderic, when fully grown, was known as a man of fine character and

tremendous strength. He was unselfish, and always ready to help the

weak. In time, he became a crusader, and, going off to fight the

Saracens, in Syria, won renown for his bravery. There was no Turk, that

could stand against his lance, or sword, or battle axe; and their

weapons had no power over him. So he came back, unhurt, to Belgium.

After his return home, he built a castle, but soon tiring of a quiet

life, he crossed the sea and traveled in Britain. There he met Gratina,

the beautiful daughter of Angart, or Edgar, the King of England. By

this alliance, he became very powerful. Then the great monarch,

Charlemagne, recognized him as an ally and vassal, and gave him, in

fief, the Belgic provinces of Hainault and Brabant.

The flag of Lyderic, as Duke of Brabant, was a tricolor, of black,

yellow, and red, in vertical bands. To his mind black stood for the

dark forest and the difficulties which are always overcome by the

brave. Yellow represented property and gold, the precious metal, which

added to human prosperity, and must be guarded; while red was for blood

and life, which all brave men willingly gave for their country, when

they are called to go to war. Centuries afterward, when all the

provinces of Belgic Land were united in one kingdom, and the people in

one nation, and the country (in the English form of the name) was known

as Belgium, this tricolor became the national flag.

Lyderic spent most of his time in Wales, on the lovely aisle of Avalon.

Here he was in fairy land, for Morgana, jealous of his marriage to

Gratina, had cast a spell upon him. So, while others died and were

buried, he lived on. The time passed without his notice, or his asking

about age, until two hundred years had slipped away.

Morgana, the fairy, had given Lyderic a fire brand, which, as long as

it kept burning, his life would be prolonged; but when it went out, he

would die. Lyderic lived with the knights of King Arthur, enjoying,

with them, jousts and tournaments, and many wonderful sports and

adventures. Yet at last, he tired of the company even of the knights of

the Round Table, and longed to cross the sea, and live again in Belgic

Land.

One day, when this desire became too strong to resist, he had an iron

box made, and carefully keeping the fire alight, he left Avalon, and

crossed the sea to his old home. Meeting the handsome widow of King

Philip, this royal lady wished to marry him. Lyderic, while yielding to

her wishes, and his mind occupied with his love affairs, forgot to

attend to the fire, to keep it kindled, and so let the brand go out.

Then Morgana, the fairy, who had been jealous of the Princess Gratina

and was now even more jealous of Lyderic’s new wife, carried him off to

Avalon, and shut him up in the cave, where sit King Arthur and his

knights, awaiting the day when they shall come forth, in time of

greatest need. There Lyderic sleeps yet.

The fame of Lyderic lives in the myths of the fairy world, in many

lands, from Denmark to Wales, and from Belgium to Italy. All the boys

and girls of Europe have heard his story, in one form or another. As

for Morgana, she is known all over the world, and in all time, as the

conjurer. There are those who can discern her dwelling place on the

clouds and vapors, especially off the coast of Calabria in Italy. At

certain seasons of tide and weather, one may see, in the sky, and far

above earth, or sea, a colossal picture of the trees and hills, of the

houses and palaces of the wonderful city of Reggio, magnified many

times, as it is reflected on the sky. One thus gets an idea of how the

land looks where fairies live.