Read Ebook: The Adventures and Vagaries of Twm Shôn Catti Descriptive of Life in Wales: Interspersed with Poems by Prichard T J Llewelyn Thomas Jeffery Llewelyn

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Ebook has 384 lines and 76785 words, and 8 pages

The rector's honest dissent from her scheme of reformation, Mrs. Graspacre considered as a direct declaration of hostilities, and therefore, by her peculiar creed of morality, she felt herself bound to vilify his name, and most piously longed for his death, that the cause of virtue might be supported by the talents of her favorite curate, who was now, she said, on a poor stipend, which he increased by keeping a school in the church.

He soon saw the weak side of his lady patroness, and ever anxious to strengthen his influence by promoting her views, he gave great encouragement to those boys in his school, who brought him the most piquant tales of their grown up brothers and sisters. Much scandal was at this time afloat respecting the loves of Carmarthen Jack and Catti of Llidiard-y-Fynnon; and right anxious was he to learn in what manner it was carried on; but as this interesting pair met only at those hours when bats and owls were on the wing, and no human witnesses abroad, his wishes were difficult of attainment. At length his wily brain hit upon a notable expedient, that offered fairly to increase his good footing with the squire's lady.

Little Twm Sh?n Catti, being the natural child of Sir John Wynne, was of course the illegitimate nephew of the great lady; a relationship which she, however, disdained to acknowledge: but the cunning curate took the liberty of observing one day, it was a great pity that the slightest drop of the noble blood of the Wynnes, however perverted and polluted, should be suffered to run to waste and be neglected. Proceeding in his drift, he insinuated that if the boy Twm Sh?n Catti were removed to his school, he should not only be instructed and improved, but that he, the curate, might thereby learn from the youngster something of his mother's proceedings; and especially, whether she entertained her lover in the legal, or the proscribed manner. This was striking on the very string that made music to her busy, meddling, troublesome soul;--she of course warmly approved of his idea, and put it into immediate execution. Thus, the very next day, in her own and her brother's name, little Twm Sh?n Catti was ordered for the future to be sent to the curate's school, which of course, was complied with accordingly.

Twm improves in the curate's school. His wit saves him from a flogging.

Little Twm was now in his seventh year, and as refractory a pupil as ever was spoiled by a dawdling mother. Kept aloof from his dear duck-ponds and puddles, and compelled to explore the mysteries of the horn-book, this first change in his life was acutely felt. Self-willed and stubborn, he conceived the utmost abhorrence of horn-books, cross curates, and birch-rods; he wept and sulked, struck the boys who mocked him, stayed away from school, and was flogged so often, that at length he found it much easier to learn his book, than endure the consequence of neglecting it. Once arrived to this happy mood, and being one day praised by his master, a new spirit possessed the boy; emulation was kindled, and he resolved to revenge himself on those youths who formerly had made him their butt of ridicule, by getting the start of them in learning. The horn-book was shortly thrown by; the reading-made-easy and spelling book soon shared a similar fate; and the pride of his young heart sparkled in his eyes when his great lady aunt, on hearing a good account of him from his master, presented him with a bible, on the inside of the cover of which was the following couplet,--

"Take this Holy Bible book, God give thee grace therein to look."

These lines were not only written by her own fair hand, but actually of her own composition; and as poor Catti shewed the book to all her friends and neighbours as a proud proof of the good footing on which her son stood at Graspacre Hall, the great lady's lines procured her the general fame of being a great poetess.

Notwithstanding his rapid advancement in book learning, Parson Evans was far from being satisfied with his pupil, nor was his main end answered in having brought him to his school. Twm loved his mother, and felt no great affection for his master, nor gratitude for the floggings which had enforced so much learning into his head; and never could the generous boy be brought to tell any tales to her disadvantage. The curate's severity increased, and no longer praised or encouraged, Twm became not only indifferent to his tasks, but wanton and unjust severity had the effect of blunting his feelings and making him stubborn and revengeful; and at length he arrived at such an extremity of youthful recklessness as to study tricks for the annoyance of his master and fellow scholars.

In the eleventh year of his age some decisive shoots of character made their appearance; a taste for sharp sayings, and skilful trickery in outwitting his opponents, appear to have been his striking peculiarities, as well as boldness and resolution on the play ground, where none could surpass him in robustuous or violent exercises. Wat the mole-catcher, his constant instructor when out of school, among other accomplishments had taught him to play at cudgels, and not a boy in the school could stand before him at the quarter staff. His pre-eminence in this ancient and national art was often exemplified by the loud cries and broken heads of his defeated schoolfellows. A catastrophe of that kind one day, even in school time, brought the enraged master out, who severely asked Twm what he meant by such conduct; "Why sir," cried the little rogue, "you always say that you never can beat anything into that boy's head, so I tried what I could do with the cudgel, that's all!" A few days after, his master sent him from the school to his house, for a book which he wanted. Twm found the mistress and maid were out, the first at the hall, and the last had made a present of her little leisure to her sweetheart, Wat the mole-catcher. On entering the parlour he saw there a fine bunch of grapes, which his great lady aunt had sent his master; as this was a fruit hitherto unknown to him, he deliberately tasted two or three, to discover whether they were eatable. Having diminished the bunch by a repetition of this experiment, he found a difficulty in quitting while any remained, so resolved to finish it, and lay the blame on the cat, if charged with the theft; as to dividing the spoil, and leaving a portion for the owner, the scheme was impracticable, so he decided to abide by his master's maxim, "that it was not decent for two to eat from the same dish." So lifting up the remains of the luscious bunch with affected ceremony, he exclaimed in a lofty tone, mimicking his master, "I publish the banns of marriage between my mouth and this bunch of grapes; if any one knows just cause or impediment why they should not be joined together, let him now declare it, or hereafter forever hold his peace!" and as no dissentient voice intervened, he abruptly cried "silence gives consent," and hastily consummated the delicious union. No sooner had he gulped the grapes than his master made his appearance--suspecting the cause of his delay, he had followed after, and witnessing the imposing ritual, he stood, rod in hand, surrounded by his scholars, whom he had called; when all was in readiness he exclaimed, "I publish the banns of marriage between my rod and your breech; if any one knows just cause or impediment why they may not be lawfully joined together in hot wedlock, let him now declare it."

"I forbid the banns!" roared Twm Sh?n Catti; "For what reason?" cries the awful pedant, flourishing his rod in eager preparation; "Because," cries the waggish urchin, "the parties are not yet agreed." Although Evans was generally too crabbed and selfish to enjoy and estimate a witty reply in any one except his superiors, who seldom possessed a legitimate claim to his applause, it is but justice to him to record, that this unexpected and ingenious answer procured Twm a remission of his flogging, when on the very brink of execution.

The squire favors Welsh customs and female costumes. Offended with his lady. Protects the system of bed courtship. An eulogy on the ale of Newcastle Emlyn. Toping rats.

AT this time a warm altercation one day took place between the squire and his lady, that terminated in consequences little expected by either. Notwithstanding the prejudice which Squire Graspacre's harsh conduct had given birth to, on his first settlement in Cardiganshire, he had about him certain saving points, that not only reconciled them to his rule, but really gained their esteem. He was a plain, bold, sensible man, and although entertaining a most exalted opinion of English superiority, generally, in particular instances he had the liberality to confess that he found many things in this nation of mountaineers, highly worthy of imitation among his more civilized countrymen. Unlike any of the half-bred English gentlemen who literally infest Wales, and become nuisances and living grievances to the people--building their pretensions to superiority and fashion, on a sneering self-sufficiency, and scorn of customs and peculiarities merely because they are Welsh--he gave them all credit for what was really estimable.

It should have been mentioned before, that the squire, soon after his marriage, had made a tour of South Wales, and, as his lady expressed it, taken a whim in his head of engaging a maid servant in every county through which he passed; so that in Graspacre Hall there were to be found maiden representatives in their native costumes, of all the different shires of South Wales, except Radnor, in which, the squire said the barbarous jargon of Herefordshire, and the paltry English cottons, had supplanted the native tongue and dress of Wales. There might you see the neat maiden of Pembrokeshire, in her dark cloth dress of one hue, either a dark brown approximating to black, or a claret colour, made by the skill of a tailor, and very closely resembling the ladies' modern riding habits,--a perfect picture of comfort and neatness, in alliance with good taste. There would you see her extreme contrast, the Glamorganshire lass, in stockings cut off at the ankle, and without shoes; and, although a handsome brunette with fine black eyes, dressed in a slammakin check wrapper of cotton and wool, utterly shapeless, and tied about the middle like a wheat-sheaf, or a faggot of wood: possessing, however, the peculiar conveniences that it could be put on in an instant, without the loss of time in dressing tastefully, and that it would fit every body alike, as it is neither a gown nor a bedgown, but between both, and without a waist.--There would you see the young woman of Breconshire, with her pretty blushing face half hidden in a handkerchief which envelopes her head, that at first you would fancy the figure before you to be a grandmother at least.--Her long linsey gown is pinned up behind, each extreme corner being joined together in the centre, and confined a few inches below her waste; she has her wooden-soled shoes for every day, and leathern ones for sunday, or for a dance, which, with her stockings, she very economically takes off should a shower of rain overtake her on a journey; and when it ceases, washes her feet in the first brook she meets, and puts them on again. This fair one takes especial care that her drapery shall be short enough to discover a pretty ankle, and her apron sufficiently scanty to disclose her gay red petticoat with black or white stripes, beneath, and at the sides. Then comes the stout Carmarthenshire lass with her thick bedgown and petticoat of a flaring brick-dust red, knitting stockings as she walks, and singing a loud song as she cards or spins. Lastly, though not the least in importance, behold the clogged and cloaked short-statured woman of Cardiganshire. She scorns the sluttish garb and bare feet of the Glamorganshire maiden, and hates the abominable pride of the Pembrokeshire lass who is vain enough to wear leathern shoes instead of honest clogs; proving at the same time that her own vanity is of a more pardonable stamp, while she boasts with truth, that her own dress cost twice as much as either of the others. The Cardiganshire women's dresses, in fact--generally blue, with red stripes, and bound at the bottom with red or blue tape--are entirely of wool, solidly woven and heavy, consequently more expensive than those made of linsey or minco, or of the common intermixture of wool and cotton, and presenting an appearance of weighty warmth more desirable than either a comely cut or tasty neatness.

"Indeed Cardy," said the squire, with a smile, "though your mistress may have been too severe in her censure, I must say your two last brewings were unequal to the first." "A good reason why sir; who can brew without malt and hops? though I am told some of the town brewers are mighty independent of those articles--but their brewings won't do for us at Newcastle Emlyn! and your wheat sir, which has grown by being out in the wet harvest, so as to be unfit for bread, is but a poor make-shift for malt--it may do for the wish-wash paltry ale of Haverfordwest and Fishguard, but our plough boys would turn up their noses at such stuff at Newcastle Emlyn!" "Damn Newcastle Emlyn!" cried the squire, provoked by her continual reference to her native place. "Master! master!" cried the girl, as if rebuking him for the greatest impiety conceivable, "don't damn Newcastle Emlyn, I had rather you should knock me down than damn Newcastle Emlyn! it is the country of decent people and good ale! the country where"--

"You brewed good ale from the grown wheat the first time," said the squire, not deeming it necessary to notice her observations.

"But let me ask you my good woman," said the squire, "what is the reason that your two last brewings were so far inferior to the first, when you had the same materials to work on?"

"'Twas better sir! ten times better! the first would have turned the devil's stomach, had he known what was in it." "Explain yourself," said the squire, surprized. "I will sir, if I was to be hanged for it," cried the girl in a tone of confidence; "it seems the rats love beer as well as any christian folks, and can get drunk and die in drink, as a warning to all sober-minded rats; but that is neither here nor there, and I hate to tell a rigmarole story; the long and short of it is, that when I came to wash out the barrels after the first brewing, I found three rats in one, and two in the other."

"You found what?" asked the squire and his lady at the same time.

"I found three rats sir, that had burst themselves with drinking beer, and afterwards fell in and were drowned--they were then putrid, and it was that, it seems, that made the ale so palatable; there were no dead animals in the last brewing, but if I knew your taste before, I would have killed a couple of cats, to please you."

This explanation excited a titter among the girls, and a loud laugh from the squire, while the lady evinced the shock which her delicacy had sustained, by making wry faces, and snuffing violently at her smelling bottle, to avoid fainting.

This amicable settlement of differences set every one in good humour, except the haughty mistress, who embittered with her double defeat, retired in gloom, while her husband went to give audience to Jack o S?r G?r. Cardy stayed behind a full quarter of an hour longer, to edify the servants while treating, in her cackling style, of the extraordinary merits of the fat ale of Newcastle Emlyn.

A Welsh wedding, with all its preliminaries, and attendant circumstances. The Bidding. The Gwahoddwr. The Ystavell. Pwrs a Gwregys. Pwython. In which Twm Sh?n Catti and Wat the mole-catcher play conspicuous parts.

List to the Bidder--a health to all Who dwell in this house, both great and small; Prosperity's comforts ever attend The Bride and the Bridegroom's generous friend!

His door, may it never need a latch; His hearth a fire, his cottage a thatch; His wife a card, or a spinning wheel; His floor a table, nor on it a meal!

On Saturday next a wedding you'll see, In fair Tregaron, as gay as can be, Between John Rees, called Jack o S?r G?r, And Catherine Jones, his chosen fair.

Haste to the wedding, its joy to share! Mirth and good humor shall meet ye there; Come one, come all! there's a welcome true To master and mistress and servants too!

Stools shall ye find to sit upon, And tables, and goodly food thereon, Butter and cheese, and flesh and fish all to your wish.

There many a lad shall a sweetheart find, And many a lass meet a youth to her mind, While nut-brown ale, both cheap and strong, Shall warm the heart for the dance and song.

Oft at a wedding are matches made, When dress'd in their best come youth and maid, And dance together, and whisper and kiss,-- Who knows what weddings may rise from this?

Whoever may come to the Bidding, note,-- There's thanks to the friend who brings three groat; And ne'er may they hobble on a crutch Whoe'er give the lovers twice as much!

Whatever is given, as much they'll restore-- One shilling, or two, or three, or four; Whenever in similar case 'tis claim'd, Else were defaulters ever shamed.

So haste to the wedding, both great and small, Master and mistress, and servants, and all! Catti's at home, Jack's at sign of the Cat; Now God save the king and the Bidder, Wat.

Who'll come to the wedding of Catti my mother? 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 butter, 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 God save the king, and his friend Twm Sh?n Catti.

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.

Lost, stray'd, or ran away This moment from the king's highway, A tall and sightly strapping woman, A circumstance 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.

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.

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 ungodliness 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 Graspacre, 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 circumstance perhaps, that gave no real sorrow to any creature breathing.

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.

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