The Adventures And Vagaries Of Twm Shon Catti Part 3

Come mother, come daughter, son, father, and brother, And bring all your cousins, and uncles, and aunts, To revel and feast at our jolly courants, Haste, haste to the Bidding ye stingy scrubs!

And out with your purses, and down with your dubs.

Come Gwenny and Griffith, and Roger and Sal, Morgan, Meredith, and Peggy and Pal; Come one, come all, with your best on your back, To see mother married to spoon-making Jack; He's a spoon for his pains! as ye all shall see soon.

But lucky in finding a bowl to his spoon.

Haste, haste, to the bidding! and friends, if ye please, For lack of white money bring good yellow cheese, And b.u.t.ter, but not in your pockets alack, Bring bacon or mutton well dried on the rack; So endeth my story; come, haste we friend Watty, Now G.o.d save the king, and his friend Twm Shon Catti.

Twm's delivery of these lines excited much mirth and laughter, and, added to those of the real _Gwahoddwr_, drew more than ordinary attention to this Bidding. Many of the children of the different houses had been Twm's school-fellows, and the pupils of his mother, which had the effect of influencing them, and became a sort of tie, to claim their presence at her Bidding. As Jack's friends were in Carmarthenshire, another _Gwahoddwr_ was appointed by his master to go with him to call on his friends at his own native place; and so liberal was the squire on this occasion, that he sent them both, mounted, on horses of his own.

Jack and his Bidder had no great success, as his friends reproached him for his perverse intention of marrying a strange woman in a far land; and therefore finding but little pleasure in the subject or manner of their lectures, he made a precipitate retreat. Blushing for his countrymen, and ashamed to own his failure in his own land, he bribed Ianto Gwyn the harper, who was his Bidder, to silence; and brought with him to Tregaron, in a hired cart, the common contribution of a bridegroom-namely, a bedstead, table, stools, and a dresser. These, he feigned to have bought with his Bidding-money, received at Carmarthen. Friday is always allotted to bring home the _Ystavell_, or the woman's furniture; consisting generally of an oaken coffer, or chest; a featherbed and blankets; all the crockery and pewter; wooden bowls, piggins, spoons, and trenchers; with the general furniture of the shelf: but as Catti was already provided with every thing of this kind, she had but little to add to her stock.

The landlord of a public house originally called "the Lion," but with a sign resembling a more ign.o.ble animal, causing it to be ultimately known by no other designation than that of "the Cat," offered Jack his parlour to receive his Cardiganshire friends in. Accordingly, on the Friday before the wedding, he was busily employed in receiving money, cheese, and b.u.t.ter, from them, while Catti was similarly engaged at her residence, with _her_ partizans, which were not a few. This custom in Welsh is called _Pwrs a Gwregys_, or purse and girdle; and is, doubtless, of very remote origin.

At length the long-looked for, the important Sat.u.r.day arrived; a day always fixed upon for the celebration of hymeneal ordinances, in Wales, from the sage persuasion that it is a _lucky day_, as well as for the convenience of the Sabbath intervening between it and a working day-a glorious season of sunshine to the children of labour.

Contrary to Jack's expectations, a considerable number of his Carmarthenshire friends, mounted on their ponies, made their appearance this morning, and honorably paid their _Pwython_; that is to say, returned the presents which he and his relatives or friends had made at different weddings. Jack's resentful and sudden disappearance, it seems had a beneficial effect on the feelings of his friends and countrymen; and a jealousy of yielding the palm for liberality to a neighbouring county stirred a spirit of emulous contention among them, which ended in a resolution that a party should attend the wedding, and bear with them the _Pwython_ of the others, who had an aversion to travel such a very distant journey.

After depositing their offerings, and partaking of a little refreshment, twelve of the bridegroom's friends, headed by Ianto Gwyn the harper, mounted their ponies and called at Catti's house, to demand the bride; and Wat the mole-catcher and _Gwahoddwr_, who added to these functions the character of father to Catti, expecting their arrival, at length heard without appearing, the following lines, delivered by the merry harper, from the back of his poney.

Open windows, open doors, And with flowers strew the floors.

Heap the hearth with blazing wood, Load the spit with festal food.

The _chrochon_ {62} on its hook be placed, And tap a barrel of the best!

For this is Catti's wedding day; Now bring the fair one forth I pray.

On which Wat, with the door still closed, made this reply without appearing.

Who are ye all? ye noisy train!

Be ye thieves, or honest men?

Tell us quick what brings ye here, Or this intrusion costs you dear.

Ianto Gwyn then rejoins,

Honest men are we, who seek A dainty dame both fair and meek, Very good, and very pretty, And known to all by name of Catti; We come to claim her for a bride; Come father! let the fair be tied To him who loves her ever well:-

Wat, still within, answers,

So ye say, but time will tell; My daughter's very well at home, So ye may pack and backward roam.

Ianto Gwyn resolutely exclaims,

Your home no more she's doom'd to share, Like every marriageable fair Her father's roof she quits, for one Where she is mistress: woo'd and won.

It now remains to see her wedded, And homeward brought and safely bedded; Unless you give her up we swear The roof from off your house to tear, Burst in the doors, and batter walls, To rescue her whom wedlock calls.

Another of the bridegroom's party then called aloud in a tone of authority,

Peace, in the king's name here! peace!

Let vaunts and taunting language cease; We, the bridesmen, come to sue The favor to all bridesmen due, The daughter from the father's hand, And entertainment kindly bland.

Now the important ensnarer of moles, with the air of an ancient chieftain who throws wide his castle gates for the hospitable reception of his retainers, opens the door, struts forth, and with a smiling face gives the welcome, while, with his party, he a.s.sists them to alight. After taking a little more refreshment, consisting of newly-baked oaten cakes, with b.u.t.ter and cheese, washed down with copious draughts of ale, they all remounted, and were joined by the rest of the bridegroom's party; the whole rustic cavalcade making their way towards the church. A motley a.s.semblage, in truth it was, but withal picturesque, and agreeable to contemplate, for every face was happy; save when now and then a cautious damsel, mounted behind her father or brother, would exhibit a touch of the dismals in the length of her features, on discovery that the _cwrw_ had any other effect than that of rendering her protector steady in his seat on the saddle. Almost every sort of animal, large or small, lame or blind, good or bad, seemed to have been pressed into the service, and reduced to the levelling system, and without regard to either size or quality, doomed to carry double. And thus they went on at a walking pace, while the loud chat of many seemed drowned in the louder laughter and calling of others, till now and then rebuked by some of the elders; who, however, to little purpose, vociferated the words decency-propriety-sobriety-sober purpose-&c. &c. the tendency of which seemed but little understood. Jack was doomed to bestride a wretched begalled Rozinante which the dogs could scarce pa.s.s without antic.i.p.ating their approaching feast, and looked like an equestrian knave of clubs ill mounted; and if not very merry himself, was certainly "the cause of mirth in others." Elevated behind her temporary father on a fleet horse of the squire's, poor Catti was doomed to present purgatory to contrast her enjoyment of future happiness, for, unprovided with a pillion, she sat on the crupper, holding fast by Wat's coat. The quiet pace which commenced this little journey was soon changed into rough horsemanship, for the mad-cap mole-catcher turning his steed into the Cardigan road, gave him the spur, and commenced an outrageous gallop; the wedding partly followed with all the might of their little beasts, and like valiant villagers in chase of a highwayman, strove their utmost to rescue the bride. Ianto Gwyn the rural bard and harper, ever ready with an extempore, produced one on this occasion.

Lost, stray'd, or ran away This moment from the king's highway, A tall and sightly strapping woman, A circ.u.mstance not very common; 'Tis said a murderer of vermin On her abduction did determine; Whoe'er will bear to gaol th' offender, The lost one to her owner render, Shall be as handsomely rewarded As can be readily afforded.

Having considerably distanced his pursuers, he stopped at length, at Catti's request, who complained sadly of being sorely b.u.mped upon the buckle of the crupper. Dexterously turning to a bye-road towards the church, he was soon perceived and followed by the party, and altogether they soon arrived at their journey's end, and alighting, they entered the sacred fane with due decorum. Evans the curate, to enhance his own services and increase his importance, took care to damp their hilarity by keeping them waiting full three quarters of an hour, before he made his appearance; and when he came, his looks and demeanor partook more of the rigid priest of Saturn, than of the heart-joining, bliss-dispensing Hymen. Although the conduct of every individual was perfectly decent, he very sternly rebuked their smiles and happy looks, and actually threatened not to perform the marriage ceremony, until, alarmed at the menace, and indignant at his conduct, they all became perfectly joyless, and most orthodoxically gloomy. The indissoluble knot was soon tied; and no longer dependant on the good offices of the magisterial churchman, their spirit of joyousness burst forth, while in the churchyard the mellow harp of Ianto Gwyn was playing the sprightly air of _Morwynion Glan Meirionydd_, or the Fair Maidens of Merionethshire; while many of the party joined in the words which belong to that beautiful and animating tune. Suddenly changing the air, the eccentric harper struck up "Megen has lost her garter," which was succeeded by "Mentra Gwen," and a string of such national melodies, equally gay and appropriate. After the marriage, they returned in much the same order, or rather disorder; with the difference that the bride sat behind her husband, instead of her father: the harper playing the whole time, and many sweet voices joining in the words of the airs. They soon entered Catti's house, where her sister Juggy had provided a good dinner, of which all partook, cost free, except that every one had to pay for their own ale, the females of course being treated. In the course of the evening, jigs, reels, and country dances, were successively gone through with much spirit. Catti danced with considerable agility; but Jack, pressed on all sides, and at length compelled to make one, in a country dance, shewed every indication of this being his virgin attempt at "the poetry of motion;" and alternately stumping and blowing, while copious streams ran down his rugged forehead, as they every instant corrected his erratic course, and literally pushed him down the dance, he vowed that this his first, should also be his last exhibition on the "fantastic toe." Young Twm, who had been playing at sweethearts, with little Gwenny Cadwgan on his knee, to the great mirth of his seniors, soon brought her out to try her foot in the dance with him. The poor little wench, blushing scarlet deep, made her first essay with one equally young and inexperienced as herself; and the juvenile pair were by many good naturedly instructed in the figure of the dance, and they contributed not a little to the general harmony. Juggy, the sister of Catti, absolutely refused to sport her figure among the dancers, and treated Wat the mole-catcher with a hard favor in the face for attempting to drag her in perforce. At length, fatigued with dancing, and alarmed for the state of their inebriated friends and companions, many, especially the females, turned their serious thoughts towards home. It was now drawing towards the hour of retiring for the night, when the usual trick was played of concealing the bride from the bridegroom. Poor Jack, whom nature had not favored with a great share of facetiousness, and who never mixed with such a company before, began to be seriously alarmed. Great was the mirth of the party, while, with a strange expression of countenance, he sought her up and down in every corner of the house. At length he discovered a part of her red petticoat sticking out from under the bottom of the straw armchair, and soon drew her out from the place of concealment. The parting hour was now arrived; then came the general shaking of hands, and serious expressions of good wishes among the sober; while the tipsy folks vented their wit in jocular allusions to their conjugal felicity: some offering themselves for G.o.dfathers and G.o.dmothers to their future offspring, while others far gone laid bets on the probability that the first child would be either a boy or a girl. At this time considerable surprize was excited by the conduct of an individual who had been remarkably unsocial the whole evening, no person having heard him speak a word; and when asked a question, or in answer to a health being drank, he merely nodded in a hurried manner, and immediately drew hard at his pipe, and puffed forth volumes of smoke, as if to envelope himself in a cloud of invisibility.

Every one was too much engaged with his own pleasures to give him much attention, and thus he remained till the moment of departure, when he was observed to stagger as he rose from his seat; somebody then observed, that it must have been the smoke and not the beer that affected his brains, as he drank but little: a remark that imputed n.i.g.g.ardly and curmudgeon propensities to him. Determined to give him something of a roast, a young farmer asked him, with a defying air, whether he had paid his _Pwython_; "No!" roared the hitherto silent man, "but here it is-take it Catti my girl, and much good may it do you!" on which he put five guineas into her hand. With emotions of wonder and grat.i.tude, while catching an eager glance at his face, Catti involuntarily exclaimed "the squire!" when he darted out, mounted his horse, as did the rest of the party, and disappeared.

CHAP. VIII.

Twm's great improvement under his new master. His attachment to Welsh literature. Wat's freak. Twm is taken from school, and sent as a parish apprentice to a farmer in the Cardiganshire mountains.

DETERMINED to witness the humble festivities of the "lowly train," thus Squire Gras.p.a.cre had been among them the whole evening, disguised like a rough mountaineer husbandman, and was heartily gratified, although his apparent incivility of conduct had nearly subjected him to harsh treatment from the jovial ale-fraught rustics, who of course, but little relished his strange behaviour. His deficiency in the Welsh language had been concealed by alternately feigning deafness and drunkenness, which, with the aid of the pipe, left him free of further suspicion. The morning of Sunday after the wedding, which is called _Neithior_, being come, the happy pair stayed at home, receiving their friends who called with their good will, which was manifested by the payment of _Pwython_.

The day was drank out, but not as before, as in every other respect, save the diminishing of ale, each seemed to recollect it was the Sabbath, and tossed off their cups in quietness. It was not till late on Monday evening that the drink was exhausted, when Jack and Catti cast up the sum of their wedding donations, which they found amounted to twenty seven pounds eight shillings and sixpence, besides fourteen whole, and twenty-two half cheeses, the greater part of which they soon turned into cash. In these days, when the value of money has been so much decreased, the amount of the _Pwython_ and presents at a Welsh wedding has been known to reach more than treble the sum here stated; especially when the friends of the parties have been numerous, and headed by the patronage of a wealthy and liberal master and mistress, who generally enlist their friends and visitors under the hymeneal banners of a faithful servant, the architects of whose humble fortunes they become, by laying, themselves, the corner stone.

As, from this part of our history, the hero will rise in importance, those who have hitherto stood forward, must proportionably draw back, to give him place; especially Jack and Catti; the grand drama of whose lives has been closed by a matrimonial union; whence, henceforth, they must sink into inconsiderable personages.

In consequence of the squire's liberality on the celebration of Catti's wedding, and a general report prevailing that he was well inclined towards the Welsh, a protector of their customs, and no scorner of their languages or peculiarities, a general good will towards him was manifested by the country people. When he gave his opinion in favor of the female national costume, they considered him, for an Englishman, a very reasonable man. When he eulogized the Welsh harp, and gave, in addition to various pieces of silver at different times, a guinea to Ianto Gwyn for his performances at Jack and Catti's wedding, he gained a few steps more into their good opinion. But when he declared that bed courtship should not be abolished, there was a burst of enthusiasm in his favor in every breast, especially among the females. During this new impulse given to the reign of happiness, the great lady of the hall and her favorite curate hid their diminished heads; the former declaring that it was utterly impossible that the world could last many months, while such immorality and unG.o.dliness was practised under the auspices of a declared patron. Whether it was the influence of this alarm, or the bitterness of baffled malignity, that preyed on her mind, certain it is, she was soon thrown on a sick bed, and considered seriously indisposed.

The squire, to his honor be it said, although unfortunately married to a very disagreeable woman, allowed a sense of duty to supply the place of affection, when his attentions were so indispensably needed. During her illness the worthy old rector who had been ill but a single week, died: and Squire Gras.p.a.cre, against his own judgement and feelings, well knowing that such an arrangement would be agreeable to his wife, inducted the curate, Evans, into the vacant living. In a fortnight after, however, she died herself; a circ.u.mstance perhaps, that gave no real sorrow to any creature breathing.

The general report of a liberal English squire in Cardiganshire, who patronized and upheld the customs of the Welsh, penetrated to the very extremities of the princ.i.p.ality; and became at last so strangely exaggerated, that, he was represented as the patron of the learned: consequently many of the humbler sons of the church took long journeys to be undeceived. Of the many who called upon him with a view of seeking his patronage of their literary undertakings, one especially took his fancy; a young clergyman named John David Rhys, before named as the author of the Bidder's song. But poetry was not his forte; his energy and perseverance in the favorite study of Welshmen, British antiquities, and systemizing his native language, deserved encouragement and applause.

He was then composing a Welsh grammar, and had actually commenced a dictionary. As he spoke English very well, the squire soon understood the merit of his undertakings, and promised his patronage and good offices; in the mean time requesting him to remain on the footing of a friend beneath his roof, till something could be done for him. This excellent person he now fixed upon to succeed Evans in the school and curacy; stipulating, that for his fulfilment of the latter, he was to have thirty pounds, and for the former ten pounds a year. Fortunate for Rhys would it have been had the old rector outlived the squire's lady, in which case it is more than probable he would have filled the living instead of Evans, whom the squire never liked. This change in the mastership of the school was a fortunate event for young Twm Shon Catti, who had caught the mania for rhyming, among the wandering harpers and _bards_, as they called every rhymester who could manufacture verses in either of the four-and-twenty legitimate Welsh measures. When he found his new master a kind young man, an historian, antiquarian, and something of a poet, the "homage of the heart" was immediately paid him. Twm thought him the wisest man in the world, when he heard him speak of the battles fought by the Britons in ancient times, against the Romans, Danes, and Saxons. This was to him a knowledge the most estimable, and he longed to be enabled also, to talk about battles and to write patriotic songs. Having now his information from a better source, he soon learned to despise the jargon and misstatements of Ianto Gwyn, with whom he argued strongly, and proved to him that Geoffrey of Monmouth was a fabulist, and no historian; that it was not Joseph of Arimathea who christianized Britain; and that the Britons were no descendants of Brute, nor of Trojan origin; with various other such knotty points. The great deference which he paid his master, his attention to every word which fell from his lips, with his close and successful application to his lessons, gained him the esteem and admiration of Rhys, with whom he became a great favorite. This amiable young clergyman found much satisfaction on discovering a youngster with taste sufficient to appreciate his favorite pursuits; and took pleasure in explaining to him every subject of his enquires. A thirst for information possessed the boy; and he rummaged the most dry and tedious works connected with Welsh antiquities, with an avidity that was astonishing even to his master.

Well would it have been for Twm had he continued his diligence in this honorable course, but in his breast the love of learning was shared by his love of mischief, and his admiration of his master divided with his predilection for the comical vagaries of Wat the mole-catcher: and in the end, his acquaintance with that worthy proved anything to him but fortunate. About eighteen months after Rhys's appointment to the school, one evening in the Christmas holidays, Wat asked him if he would take a share in a freak that would keep them up the greater part of the night.

Twm immediately a.s.sented, without enquiring its nature; enough for him that it was a scheme of merry mischief, in the prospect of which his heart ever bounded. This idle whim of Wat's was nothing more than to pull down the signs of all the public houses and shops, which being few, was easily done, but the greater difficulty was to suspend them from, or attach them to, the tenements of others, in which they however succeeded.

This trick elicited some humour; and a satirical application was discernible in the new disposal of the boards. When the light of day discovered their handy-work, great was the astonishment of the alehouse-keepers and others, to find their signs vanished, and gracing the fronts of their neighbours' houses; and the anger of the reverend Evan Evans was boundless, on perceiving the "Fox and Goose" over his rectory house door, with the words proceeding from the mouth of Reynard, "I have thee now;" and under the pictorial figures "Good entertainment for man and horse." A crowd was in consequence collected about his door, and the provoking laughter of the people stung him to the bitterest degree of resentment. Squire Gras.p.a.cre, from indolence or dislike to all business except farming, declined being in the commission of the peace himself, and put the parson in his stead. Having now attained the summit of his ambition, as rector and justice of the peace, his overweening presumption and conceit become daily more conspicuous; and therefore this slur upon his consequence became intolerable. The actors in this simple freak became at length known, in consequence of the secret being intrusted, a very common case, to a _confidential friend_.

Although the twenty shillings reward which the parson offered could not induce the poorest to be base enough to become an informer, yet an idle spirit of tattling among the women brought it at length to the ears of Mistress Evans, and her husband soon became possessed of the whole particulars. He instantly made his complaint to the squire against both Twm and Wat, who merely reprimanded, cautioned for the future, and dismissed them.

The circ.u.mstances under which young Twm Shon Catti was educated, now suddenly occurred to him. "What the devil is to become of that mischievous young rascal?" said he, one day, to Rhys the curate, whom he then informed of the particulars of his birth, and of his deceased wife's whim of having him well educated, in consequence of his being a slip of Sir John Wynne's. That connexion being entirely closed by the death of his wife, he no longer felt himself bound or inclined to notice him.

When Rhys gave so good an account of his proficiency, he was surprized to hear the squire exclaim "I am sorry for it, for he has no prospect in the world but labour or beggary. As he has already had too good an education for his circ.u.mstances, he must be instantly dismissed from school. Since Sir John does not think proper to protect his son, I don't see why I should." Twm and his master parted with mutual regret, for latterly they were more like companions than master and scholar; and the generous Rhys could not restrain a tear on beholding a youth of so much promise destined to the uncertain wilderness of a hard and cold world, especially after having evinced a superiority of taste and intellect, that under favorable auspices, would have enabled him to shine and flourish in his day. Twm remained awhile at his mother's, a big boy of fifteen, idling away his days without any view to the future. Greatly concerned on his account and her own inability to support him, Catti went one day to the squire's, and implored him to do something for her son; and he at last _generously_ decided to send him as a parish apprentice to a farmer, whose grounds were situate in the neighbouring mountains.

CHAP. IX.

Twm's new master and mistress, with their daughters. His pranks and buffetings at Cwm du. This humorous-beginning chapter ends tragically.

THE farmer to whom Twm had been a.s.signed, was named Morris Grump, who possessed a considerable farm, freehold property, consisting of small fields occupying either side of a deep narrow mountain dingle, the centre of which was threaded by a large brook, that in winter aped the boisterousness of a river, and was, near the farm, crossed by a fallen tree, answering the purpose of a rustic bridge, worn flat by the feet of pa.s.sengers. This cultivated defile extended about three miles, and, with the farm, was called _Cwm du_, {77} signifying the Black vale, or dingle, from the deep shade which the acclivious sides of the mountains threw over it, a great part of the day. This lonely ravine was poorly wooded, but many objects combined to array it with a hue of the romantic.

Instead of thorn, or other coppice, the hedges were of furze, always green, and in summer with a rich yellow blossom, intermixed, here and there, with the purple-flowered heath, which in Scotch literature has been immortalized as the mountain heather. The trees were stunted, of stubby, dwarfish, yet fantastic growth, with the heads generally snapped off in the winter storms, and the branches spreading afar. The large loose stones, that had parted from their parent rocks, and rolled to the banks, and into the bed of the brook, were covered, or rather patched, with a grey and yellow lichen, as were the bare hungry-looking ribs of the mountains, which, unfleshed with soil, shewed, repulsively gaunt; strongly contrasting with the small corn fields and green meadows below.

The brook, on a continual descent, was broken by many small, and some large, falls, down its rocky bed, chafing to a white foam against its various impediments, and roaring with the futile rage of a petty torrent.

At the upper end of _Cwm du_ stood the farm house, so called, of Morris Grump, with its barn, ricks, and the group of outhouses usually appertaining to such a place. At the further extremity, the dingle terminated in a vast flat patch of black mountain marsh, where all the people of the neighbouring country repaired to cut their turf for firing.

All else, on either side the valley of _Cwm du_, was mountain-a wild uncultured wilderness; the surface of which was diversified with pretty lakes or alpine pools, on which floated various aquatic fowl; flocks of sheep; long-maned untamed horses; furze and heath; quarries; caves; gulfs; intersecting brooks; and the horizon closed with the distant mountain peaks, one above another, strangely but most grandly cl.u.s.tered.