How Green Was My Valley Page #6

Children too.

You were right, my son.

- I will be back for breakfast.

- You will not go to chapel?

No.

And if they do this thing,

I will never set foot

in the chapel again as long as I live.

I will have the sheets warm on your bed.

- There is an old beauty you are.

- Go and scratch, boy.

What is this about the chapel, Mother?

Tonight, after the service.

A deacons' meeting over Angharad.

Angharad? But she has done nothing.

Nothing is enough for people

who have minds like cesspools.

Huw, my little one.

I hope when you're grown,

their tongues will be slower to hurt.

- Will Angharad have to be at the meeting?

- No. None of us will be there.

But the disgrace will not stay away.

I will go, Mother.

This is the last time I will talk in this chapel.

I am leaving the valley with regret

toward those who have helped me here,

and who have let me help them.

But...

for the rest of you,

those of you who have only proved

that I have wasted my time among you,

I have only this to say.

There is not one among you

who has had the courage

to come to me and accuse me of wrongdoing.

And yet, by any standard,

if there has been a sin,

I am the one who

should be branded the sinner.

Will anyone raise his voice

here now to accuse me?

No.

You're cowards, too, as well as hypocrites.

But I don't blame you.

The fault is mine as much as yours.

The idle tongues,

the poverty of mind which you have shown,

mean that I have failed to reach most

of you with the lesson I was given to teach.

Huw?

I thought when I was a young man

that I would conquer the world, with truth.

I thought I would lead an army

greater than Alexander ever dreamed of.

Not to conquer nations,

but to liberate mankind.

- Yes, sir.

- With truth.

With the golden sound of the Word.

But only a few of them heard.

Only a few of you understood.

The rest of you

put on black and sat in chapel.

Why do you come here?

Why do you dress your hypocrisy in black

and parade before your God on Sunday?

From love? No. For you've shown

that your hearts are too withered

to receive the love of your divine Father.

I know why you've come.

I've seen it in your faces Sunday after

Sunday as I've stood here before you.

Fear has brought you here.

Horrible, superstitious fear.

Fear of divine retribution.

A bolt of fire from the skies,

the vengeance of the Lord,

and the justice of God.

But you have forgotten the love of Jesus.

You disregard his sacrifice.

Death. Fear.

Flames, horror, and black clothes.

Hold your meeting, then.

But know if you do this in the name

of God, and in the house of God,

you blaspheme against him and his Word.

Wait. There is a meeting, Master Morgan.

Well, Huw.

- I'm glad you've come.

- Thank you, sir.

Is there anything I can do?

Indeed there is.

You can do me a great service.

This watch.

My father gave it to me

when I entered the ministry.

It's marked time we've both loved.

- Take it.

- No, sir.

A service, I said you'd be doing me.

No need for us to shake hands.

We will live in the minds of each other.

Mr Gruffydd, won't you

see Angharad before you go?

She wants you to.

No.

If I were to see her again,

I couldn't find the strength to leave her.

Goodbye, Huw.

And there's a good old man you are.

What is it now? Fire, or flood, or what?

A cave-in, they are saying.

- Take me up there.

- What good in the darkness of a mine?

Your eyes are no good in daylight

from the blows you've taken in the ring.

I can still swing a pick deeper than any man.

Take me up there.

Men. Men. Women.

Those of you with relatives.

Let them to the pit.

- Gwilym Morgan?

- Not yet, sir.

Mr Gruffydd? On the lower level, he was.

- My father?

- Not yet, Mrs Evans.

Angharad...

Who is for Gwilym Morgan and the others?

I for one. He is the blood of my heart.

Come, Cyfartha.

'Tis a coward I am.

But I will hold your coat.

Dadda!

Dadda!

Dadda!

Huw, lad.

Dadda!

- Dadda!

- Huw.

Mr Gruffydd!

There's a good old man you are.

He came to me just now.

Ivor was with him.

He spoke to me,

and told me of the glory he had seen.

Look.

Men like my father cannot die.

They are with me still,

real in memory as they were in flesh,

loving and beloved for ever.

How green was my valley then.

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