THE town of Welsh Pool, the ancient Trellwng, is situated in a rich, open
country, near to a small black pool, from whence it is supposed to derive
its name. This “Llyn-dû” is included within the spacious demesne of Lord
Powys, and is of such a contemptible area, that it seems a
dissatisfactory origin of the name of the adjacent town. There is an old
prophecy that it will at some period overflow and inundate the
settlement; but for this no reason is assigned, and its distance, as well
as the great elevation of some of the streets above its surface, render
the prediction stupid and uninteresting. The town consists of a spacious
avenue, commencing at the bridge which spans the canal, and ascending to
the crown of a gentle eminence nearly one mile removed. The county
court, market house, and flannel hall stand in the main street, and the
church, a handsome gothic structure, is in one of the bystreets, at the
foot of a steep bank, which nearly obscures the light on that side, and
forms a most inconvenient place of burial. There is a chalice of pure
gold, preserved in the plate chest of this parish, capable of holding one
quart, and valued at one hundred and seventy pounds. It was presented to
the church by Thomas Davies, governor of our African colonies, in
grateful thankfulness to the Almighty for his safe return from that early
grave of Europeans. The inscription sets forth the name and object of
the donor, adding, that the gold was brought from Guinea. The houses are
mostly built of brick, and the streets present a neat and respectable
appearance. The long established trade in flannels has given this place
the means of making an opulent display, which does not frequently fall to
the lot of the inland towns of Wales. This was an ancient borough,
contributory with Montgomery in choosing a representative, but was
deprived of its franchise in the year 1728. The government is committed
to two bailiffs, a recorder, and town clerk. The first are magistrates,
whose jurisdiction extends over parts of several adjacent parishes.
Powys Castle, or the Castle of Powisland, was first chosen as a military
position, and an appropriate site for the palace of a chieftain, by
Cadwgan ap Bleddyn, a prince of British extraction, who signalised
himself in the reign of Henry the First. He commenced his castle here
about the year 1110, but being assassinated by his own kinsman, left his
design unfinished. It is rather probable that the assassin took
possession of the place, and completed the building of the castle; for in
the year 1191, various depredations being committed in the marshes,
Hubert, Archbishop of Canterbury, in the absence of Richard the First,
who was engaged in the Crusades, marched into Wales at the head of a
powerful force, and laid siege to the castle, which was then in a state
of defence and occupied by the Welsh. It was now fortified anew, and a
garrison placed in it, which was very soon after dispossessed by
Gwenwynwyn, whose name the fortress then bore. Llewellyn ap Jorwerth
next reduced this apparently untenable position, in the year 1223, when
it received the newer title of Castell Gôch, or Red Castle, from the
colour of the stone in the outer walls. The grandson of Gwenwynwyn
continued in possession, and left it to his only daughter, Hawys Gadarn,
or Hawys the Hardy. Her uncles being disposed to question the legality
of her father’s will, she wisely attached herself to Edward the Second,
who bestowed her in marriage on John de Charlton, of Wellington, in
Shropshire, in 1268. By the marriage of Sir John Grey, of
Northumberland, with Jane, eldest daughter of Lord Powys, the barony and
castle passed into that family, and continued with the Greys until the
reign of Henry the Eighth, when the title became extinct. Sir William
Herbert, second son of the Earl of Pembroke, appears the next occupant,
his title being derived by a purchase, effected some time in the reign of
Queen Elisabeth. This person was ancestor to the Marquises of Powys. In
the year 1644 the castle was taken by Sir Thomas Myddleton, who suffered
it to be plundered, and compelled Lord Powys to compound with parliament
for his estates. The title became extinct, by failure of issue, in the
year 1800, and was revived in the person of Edward, Lord Clive, now Earl
of Powys, brother-in-law to the last earl of the former line.
The approach to the castle is through a barbacan, advanced some distance
from the citadel, but connected with it by long curtain walls. There is
less of the castle than the palace in the character of the defensive
works. On the left of the great court is a detached building, of later
date than the castle, containing a picture gallery one hundred and
seventeen feet in length, hung with choice paintings by the ancient
masters, a painting in fresco, found in the ruins of Pompeii, and a
portrait of Lord Clive, Governor General of India, executed by Dance. In
an adjoining apartment there is a model of an elephant, wearing a coat of
mail, and supporting two Indians on its back. This curious piece of
workmanship was brought from the East Indies by Lord Clive. The
principal apartments are entered by a doorway, communicating with an
inner court. The grand staircase is adorned with allegorical paintings,
complimentary to Queen Anne, by Lanscroon. The rooms in general possess
an air of gloom and heaviness, which is increased by the great thickness
of the masonry, by the painted railings; and the tapestried walls. A
gallery of statuary and antiques runs through the second story, and is
furnished also with some family portraits. The state bedroom is only
remarkable for the royal fashion here illustrated of enclosing the
bedstead by a railing, which could be opened at pleasure, and admit the
courtiers to a conversation. It was considered a mark of great respect
paid by Louis the Fourteenth to the Earl of Portland, our ambassador,
that he was admitted to an audience not only in the king’s chamber, but
within the railing.
Amongst the portraits of remarkable persons suspended here, is one of
Roger Palmer, Earl of Castlemain, who obtained his peerage in Charles the
Second’s reign, through the influence of his wife, the notorious Duchess
of Cleveland. This extraordinary person was sent to Rome, by King James
the Second, to procure a pardon for heresy, and a reconciliation between
the dissevered churches. But his holiness, knowing the futility of such
an attempt, whenever the ambassador approached was always seized with a
violent fit of coughing. Palmer at length grew weary of delay, and
threatening to take his departure, his holiness observed, “that, since he
had come to the resolution of travelling, he would recommend him to set
out early in the morning, lest, by over fatigue and the effects of heat,
he might endanger his health.” In an allegorical painting on one of the
ceilings the daughters of William, second Marquis of Powys, are
represented, one as Truth, a second as Virtue, and the third as Wisdom.
This picture would not be worth selection from amongst so many works of
conspicuous merit, if it were not for the portrait of Lady Mary, who
appears as Minerva, or the Goddess of Wisdom. Few females have acted
more singular parts on the great arena of life, for some centuries, than
this noble lady. At first she engaged deeply in the Mississippi
speculation: a marriage with the Pretender was next the object of her
ambition: and lastly, she passed into Asturias in search of gold,
accompanied by another nobly born adventurer.
The gardens consist of parallel terraces, ranged one below the other for
a considerable depth, connected by broad flights of steps, and protected
by balustrades decorated with vases and statues. The water-works and
some other antiquated embellishments, copied from St. Germain en Large,
have been totally obliterated. The library and the terraces of the
hanging gardens command an extensive and delightful prospect,—the valley
of Pool, a rich country watered by the Severn, is spread out in front,
stretching away to the beautiful chain of the Breiddyn hills, where the
last remnant of British liberty was rent asunder by the surrender of the
brave Caractacus.
The summit of the same hill is now adorned by an obelisk, commemorative
of the glorious victory of Admiral Rodney over the French fleet in the
West Indies, on the 12th day of April, 1782.
Since the visit of Mr. Pennant to the demesne of Welsh Pool, the castle
has not only been put into a habitable condition, but even revived with
all that reverence for antiquity which the amiable nationality of that
elegant scholar and antiquary could desire. The park, now furnished with
many and full grown forest trees, sweeps down the verdant brow of the
fine hill below the castle, to the very suburbs of the town; and from the
highest apex of the hill, at a spot marked out by an index, that is
screened by embowering woods in the approach, a scene commensurate to the
greatness of the whole is unfolded to the eye, comprehending distant
views of Snowdon, Cader-Idris, and the huge Plinlimmon.
CUSTOMS AND MANNERS
OF
THE WELSH.
ANCIENT manners are less obliterated by time and the varying modes of
life in North Wales, than in most of the other provinces of Britain. In
this age of communication and intelligence, few will be credulously eager
to imagine that the inhabitants of any one part of our island are
materially distinguished in their characters from those of another: yet
none can immerge themselves in this romantic country, without being
struck by the superior modesty and simplicity of its inhabitants.
Removed from active scenes of commercial life, and from corrupting
examples of selfish splendour, their minds seem sufficiently occupied in
the limited transactions of their own little world, without experiencing
interruption from any envious feeling at the triumphs of the greater or
more wealthy. It is from the peasantry, the national character of an
agricultural district is naturally to be deduced; and those of Cambria
undoubtedly present an illustration of the happiest description. The
poverty of the soil, scantiness of population, and great distance from
populous towns, render Wales a residence unsuited to the agricultural
capitalist. The land is subdivided into small portions, and amongst a
considerable number of yeomen. Hence it arises, that the children of
poverty are not frowned on by contempt, and the humbler classes do not
acquire those envious and disreputable habits, by which, in other
countries, they are too often tempted to resist the ostentations of the
rich. Their manners are obliging without servility, and plain without
rusticity; their familiarity springs from kindness, not from disrespect;
and they exhibit an independence the more to be admired in proportion to
its obviously natural growth.
Our earliest annals inform us that the Cambrians “were a people light and
active, and more fierce than strong:” all classes, from the prince to the
peasant, were devoted to arms, and prepared to give a ready service at
the first summons of the trumpet. Their military spirit was unconfined,
and love of their country boundless. The profession of arms was held in
so much estimation, that to die in one’s bed was deemed disgraceful, and
the field of battle held to be the only honourable grave.
“Without a sign, his sword the brave man draws,
And asks no omen but his country’s cause.”
ILIAD xii.
Their armour consisted of a short coat of mail, a light shield, and iron
greaves: sometimes only of those desiring to be free from all unnecessary
incumbrances in accomplishing forced marches through trackless deserts.
Their only defensive weapons were the sword, the spear, and the arrow.
Their bows were sometimes formed of interwoven twigs, and though of
slight materials, and rude workmanship, when bent by a sinewy arm dealt a
deadly wound. The men of North Wales were more dexterous in the
management of the spear, with which they pierced the closest iron mail:
their brethren of South Wales more conspicuous for their great skill in
archery.
The dress in time of peace was simple and uncostly. The men wore a
woollen garment or _cota_ around the body, kept their hair cut short over
the ears and eyes, and rounded every where so as not to obstruct their
agile movements in the woods and thickets. It is not improbable that
they retained a thick covering of hair on the top of the head, like the
glibe of the ancient Irish, as a protection against weather. The beard
was shaven off, a mustachio on the upper lip only being preserved. The
women wore a turban folded round the head, and rising in a coronul or
tuft. Both sexes paid little respect to the protection of the feet,
being seldom supplied with slippers or buskins, the men only in the field
of battle. The shoes, worn on these occasions were made of the dried
skins of animals of the chase, with the hair turned inward, and
subsequently of half-tanned leather, attached to the foot by a thong or
latchet of the same material, after the manner of a sandal. Both sexes
are represented as paying a singular regard to the beauty and whiteness
of their teeth, which they cleaned by the application of the leaves and
bark of the hazel, and afterwards rubbed with a woollen cloth.
Many of these customs belong to the military character of the ancient
inhabitants, and disappeared with the extinction of the feudal system;
white others may still be distinctly traced in the existing state of
society. The flannel cota (_crys gwlanen_) is worn by miners during
working hours, and by the peasantry of the high districts in the rainy
seasons. The females retain the ancient cap, which they now surmount
with a hat, in a manner both pleasing and peculiar. Their principal
garment consists of a short bed-gown, fastened round the waist with a
girdle, in a smart and rather graceful style; and their stockings are
after the olden fashion, that is, without feet, and held down by a loop
that passes round one of the toes; these however are only worn on working
days; entire hose of excellent manufacture succeed them upon holidays and
occasions of dress. The _tout ensemble_ of a Welsh peasant girl, while
it conveys an idea of primitiveness, and appears wisely calculated to
resist a cold and fickle climate, is neat, pleasing, and picturesque,
resembling much the costume of the female peasants of the Tyrol.
Hospitality has always been classed amongst the characteristics of an
ancient Briton, and its genius is acknowledged to hold uninterrupted
possession to the present day. Here young Fleance found a secure asylum
from the murderous designs of the usurper Macbeth, and here his son, born
of a Cambrian princess, dwelt, until a desire to visit the land of his
fathers led him to the Scottish court, where he attained the highest
tank, and became the ancestor of the royal line of Stuart.
The Earl of Richmond (afterwards Henry the Seventh) found a chair at
every festive board, and a couch in every hall in Wales, while he was a
wanderer, and a fugitive; nor did these kindnesses originate in any
inordinate prospect of honour or of gain, most of the gentlemen from
Wales, who subsequently fought under his banner, having declined the
grateful monarch’s offers of reward. This domestic virtue is still
fondly cherished here, and practised with all its pristine beauty. There
is less peculiarity in the mode of living than in other circumstances
connected with the national character. The peasant seldom partakes of
animal food, cattle being reared for the landlord’s benefit exclusively.
Oaten bread, milk, cheese, cords, and butter constitute the principal
diet of the working classes.
The ancient Welsh castles have been spoken of elsewhere, and a few
mansions of the days gone by described; it remains still to say something
of the cottages of the humble. Less architectural externally than those
in England, but superior to the hut of the Irish labourer, the cottages
of the poor are inferior to none in internal neatness and comfort. They
are supplied with a variety of furniture, amongst which a clock, oak
dresser, and _settle_ (settee), or pannelled sofa, are always to be
found. The spinning wheel has disappeared since the introduction of
machinery into the little woollen factories erected on the rills amidst
the mountains; and the brass pan for brewing “cwrw ddâ,” presents its
broad bright disk beneath the dresser of every respectable farm-house.
The Welsh are remarkable for an extreme sagacity, shrewdness, and cunning
in their little commercial transactions. They actually estimate genius
by the number of successful efforts to overreach, and esteem the
individual who exhibits the greatest dexterity in this way, to be what
the world usually term “a man of ability.” This property does not extend
to the middle or higher classes, who are no longer distinguished from the
inhabitants of the adjacent counties by any peculiarity, but is a quality
usually belonging to the peasantry of all remote and separated societies.
In the early ages of Welsh history many singular instances occurred of
the quick and acute repartee of chieftains, and distinguished men, both
in the camp and at the court.
At the battle of Agincourt Dafydd Gam, the brother-in-law of Owen
Glandwr, was despatched by King Henry to reconnoitre and ascertain the
probable number of the enemy previous to the action. Upon his return,
the king inquired whether these were not so many? “Sire,” replied Gam,
“there are enough to kill, enough to be taken prisoners, and enough to
run away.” The graceful rejection of a peerage (an honour recently
conferred upon his descendants), by the loyal ancestor of the house of
Mostyn, the reader will find introduced in the description of the
venerable hall of that ancient family. There is yet another brave
Cambrian, whose humour and intrepidity in the eleventh hour, saved his
life. Sir John Owen, of Cleneny, together with the Lords Goring,
Loughborough, Capel, and Holland, being condemned to exile by the
parliament, were shut up at first in Windsor Castle; but, after the
execution of their royal master, sanguinary measures were resolved upon.
Holland, Capel, Goring, and Sir John being again put upon their trial,
the brave loyalist evinced a courage worthy of his country. He told his
judges “that he was a plain gentleman of Wales, who had been always
taught to obey the king; that he had served him honestly during the war,
and finding many honest men endeavour to raise forces, whereby they might
get him out of prison, he did the like;” and concluded by signifying
“that he did not care much what they resolved concerning him.”
Ultimately he was condemned to lose his head: for which, with much humour
and singular boldness, he made the court a low reverence, and gave it his
humble thanks. Being asked the meaning of such acknowledgement, he
replied, in a loud voice, “that he considered it a great honour to a poor
gentleman in Wales to _loss his head_ in company with such noble lords;
for,” said he, with an oath, “I was afraid they would have _hanged_ me.”
This extraordinary and dauntless reply procured for the brave loyalist
the continuance of his head in its original position, until it reclined
on its last pillow in an honourable old age; for, Ireton forthwith became
his advocate with the parliament, saying, “that there was one person for
whom no one spoke a word; and therefore requested that he might be saved
by the sole motive and goodness of the house.” Mercy was, in
consequence, extended to him, and after a few months imprisonment, he was
restored to that liberty of which he had proved himself so deserving.
Cambrensis represents his countrymen as persons of acute and subtle
genius. In every species of litigation they exerted all their powers of
rhetoric, and in these their talents for invention were conspicuously
displayed. This spirit is still too widely diffused through the
principality, it unhappily calls the worst feelings into operation, and
opens a door to vice, at which some are found unblushingly to enter. But
the Roman character is not to be impeached because the nation produced a
Catiline, his fellows are to be found in every clime. The same
historian, who regrets the consequences of a litigious disposition, adds,
that “as there were not any baser than the worst of his countrymen, so
neither were there any better than the best.”
The genius of the Welsh was at an early period directed into a rational
channel. The most eminent for natural ability were induced to adopt the
profession of bard or poetic historian, and this order of men exercised
an influence over the destinies of the nation for many ages. Their
talents were employed in preserving the genealogies of illustrious
families, celebrating the praises of heroes, and recording remarkable and
glorious events.
The institution of bardism is coeval with the origin of poetry. The
Greek, Roman, and Celtic nations had their poets and troubadours, and the
Scandinavians imported into Europe a species of bard called Scalds, or
polishers of language. These were held in the highest estimation in all
countries: they received liberal rewards for their poetic compositions,
attended the festivals of heroic chieftains, accompanied them to the
field of battle, and sang their victorious praises, or mourned over their
untimely fall. The British bards were originally a constitutional
appendage of the Druidical hierarchy, and upon the extinction of that
detestable worship, were preserved, in a new and civil form, from the
love of poetry and music then prevailing; predilections increased,
probably, by an intercourse with the Scandinavian scalds.
Welsh poetry abounds in alliteration, which is also a characteristic of
Icelandic song, and obviously insinuates a northern origin. The person
of a bard was held sacred, and the laws of Howel Dda enacted, “that
whoever even slightly injured a bard was to pay an eric or fine of six
cows, and one hundred and twenty pence. The murderer of a bard was to
pay one hundred and twenty-six cows.” These bardic laws resembled those
relating to a similar class of persons in Ireland, where it was deemed an
act of sacrilege to seize on the estate of a bard, even for the public
service, and in times of national distress. The officers of the royal
household, both in Wales and Ireland, at this period, consisted of a
_bard_, musician, smith, physician, and huntsman. To an intercourse with
the Irish nation is traceable the introduction of the harp into Cambria.
The Welsh, so late as in the eleventh century, were accustomed to pass
over into that kingdom, and there receive instruction in the bardic
profession. Gryffydd ap Cynan, king of Wales, in 1078, “brought over
from Ireland divers cunning musicians into Wales, from whom is derived in
a manner all the instrumental music that is now there used; as appeareth
as well by the bookes written of the same, as also by the names of the
tunes and measures used among them to this daie.”
An election of bards took place annually, at an assembly of the princes
and chieftains of the nation. Precedence, emolument, and honours,
suitable to their respective merits were then assigned to each. The most
meritorious was solemnly crowned on the Bardic throne, and presented, as
a token of his preeminent genius, with a silver chair. This congress was
usually held at one of the three royal residences of the princes of
Wales, the sovereign himself presiding on the occasion.
Upon the introduction of the harp, Gryffydd determined to restrain the
inordinate vanity of the bards, and to remodel the order. He enacted
laws for their future government, the severity of which is a sufficient
indication of the necessity of their institution. Amongst the penalties
was one of much apparent hardship,—“If a minstrel offended in any of the
recited instances, ‘_every man_’ was appointed an officer of justice, in
such case, with liberty to arrest and inflict discretional punishment,
and authority to seize upon whatever property the offender had about his
person.” Under these regulations, and the auspices of an enlightened
prince, respect for the order was reestablished, and eminent minstrels
again flourished both in North and South Wales.
In the year 1176 the merits and genius of the bards of North and South
Wales were displayed in the Hall of Rhys ap Gryffydd, a prince of South
Wales, at the castle of Aberteivi. This hospitable lord held a Christmas
revel here in this year, to which he invited some hundred persons,
including the Norman and Saxon nobility. These he entertained with much
honour and courtesy, and amused by feats of arms, field sports, and other
diversions suited to the magnificence of the occasion. To these was
added a contest between the bards from all parts of ancient Britain. The
guests being assembled in the great Hall, and the bards being introduced,
the prince directed them to give proof of their skill by answering each
other in extemporaneous rhythmic effusions, proposing rich rewards to
such as should be adjudged deserving of them by the noble assemblage of
judges. In this contest the bards of North Wales obtained the victory,
with the applause of all: and amongst the harpers or musicians, between
whom a similar contention took place, the prince’s own retainers were
acknowledged the most skilful.
The fascinating occupations of bard and minstrel continued in the highest
admiration with their countrymen, soothing their wild spirit in days of
peace, and awaking their ardour in moments of danger. One of the wisest
of the ancient Greeks thought that poetry effeminated the state, and
advised the expulsion of its votaries; King Edward on the other hand
believed that it aroused and inspired a love of liberty, and adopted, in
consequence, the cruel policy of cutting off its professors. The
tradition current in Wales is that he ordered every bard who fell into
his power to be immediately assassinated, an event, whether true or
false, now immortalized in the exquisite ode by Gray commencing with
these bold Pindaric lines:
“Ruin seize thee, ruthless king,
Confusion on thy banners wait.”
Whether the bards were actually assassinated in this cold blooded manner,
or only suppressed with circumstances of aggravated cruelty, the order
appears to have been totally dissolved, and the muse of Cambria to have
taken shelter in the mountain caves for ages subsequent. During the
successful insurrection of Glandwr poetry once more descended from the
hills and basked in the few sunny rays that for a short while beamed upon
freedom. Amongst the minstrels who sang in the halls of Glandurdwy was
Iolo Gôch, who celebrated in lofty strains the prudence and patriotism of
his master. The storm that excited a martial spirit in the followers of
the houses of York and Lancaster, laid the genius of Cambrian poetry. If
at any time its voice was heard, it was either in sorrow at the miseries
of the present, or in obscure prophecy of what was yet to come.
The reign of Henry the Seventh, as might naturally have been expected,
was one of brighter hopes and more unrestricted freedom, than any Wales
had witnessed since the extinction of her native princes. A new
description of bard now arose, less venerated, less connected with that
mysterious origin to which their predecessors were referred, and
undistinguished, except by their effusions, from other classes of
society. Of this new class of minstrels, the days of chivalry over, the
chief duties were to celebrate the hospitality and private virtues of
their patrons, in whose halls they were maintained, and upon whose
decease it became their melancholy task to compose a funeral song, to be
recited in the presence of the surviving relatives by a _Datceiniad_.
Regular bardic assemblies, convened by royal authority, were discontinued
after the reign of Elizabeth. This illustrious queen issued a precept
for holding a royal Eisteddfod on the 26th May, 1568. The document is
still preserved in the family of Mostyn, whose ancestors are named
therein, with other gentlemen of rank and property in the principality.
The objects of such meetings, as well as the distinctive character
attached to the bardic order, may be easily collected from the following
passage extracted from the royal commission.
“Whereas it is come to the knowledge of the Lorde president and other our
counsell in the Marches of Wales, that vagrant and idle persons naming
themselves minstrels, rithmirs, and barthes, are lately grown to such an
intolerable multitude within the Principality of North Wales, that not
only gentlemen and others, by their shameless disorders, are oftentimes
disquieted in their habitations, but also the expert minstrels and
musicians in town and country thereby much discouraged to travail in the
exercise and practise of their knowledge; and also not a little hindered
in their living and preferments,” &c. At the assemblage called by
direction of this precept seventeen poetical bards were present and
thirty-eight of their musical brethren; William Llyn was admitted to the
degree of Pencerdd or doctor, and three others to the rank of masters of
the art of poetry. The prize was awarded to Sion ap William ap Sion.
Caerwys, in Flintshire, was the place chosen for the celebration of
Eisteddfodau in later years, having once been the royal residence of
Llewellyn, but the more ancient bardic assemblies were convened at
Aberffraw, in the palace of the princes of Gwynedd; Dinefawr, the noble
castle of the lords of South Wales; and Mathrafel, the royal palace of
the chiefs of Powisland.
There is reason to believe, that an Eisteddfod was also held between the
years 1569 and 1580, but the place of assemblage and other circumstances
respecting it are unknown. In South Wales, however, meetings of this
description continued to be called under the auspices of the Earl of
Pembroke and Sir Richard Neville, to which must be added the most
memorable of all at Bewpyr Castle, A.D. 1681, under the patronage of Sir
Richard Bassett.
From these last mentioned dates poetry, music, and every species of
Cambrian literature hastened rapidly to decay, nor were any efforts made
to arrest their decline, and re-string the lyre, until the year 1771. At
this period societies were formed in London for the restoration of the
Welsh language to its former purity, and the encouragement of Welsh
literature generally. The Gwyneddigion society extend their patronage to
the inhabitants of North Wales. The Cymrodorion to Powys, and those of
Dyffed and Gwent to South Wales. Under this national patronage
Eisteddfodau were again restored on the 18th of July, 1819, at
Caermarthen, when the Bishop of St. David’s presided. In the following
year a meeting was held at Wrexham under the presidency of Sir W. W.
Wynne, and bardic festivals and literary contests were held at the
respective places of assemblage of the other societies. These meetings,
however, are inferior in splendour of attractions and public interest to
the triennial assemblies now permanently established in the principality.
The first of these was held at Brecon in 1826, Lord Rodney president; the
second at Denbigh in the year 1828, where Sir B. Mostyn, Bart. presided,
and the third at Beaumaris in 1832, under the auspices of Sir R. B. W.
Bulkley, Bart.
The religion of North Wales is that of the established church, but the
inhabitants manifest a remarkable independence in this respect as well as
in many other, and pursue those views of religious subjects which each
one’s conscience dictates. The parish church is not deserted, but a
chapel, built by contributors of the humblest class, is found in every
hamlet, and the quick succession of itinerant preachers appears to
attract a more lively attention to the solemn warnings of the pulpit,
than the instruction of any one pastor urged with ever so much ability
and zeal. The dissenters are divided into many classes, Methodists and
Calvinists are the most numerous; amongst the others the sect called
“Jumpers,” whose peculiar tenets had once too strong a hold on the
feelings of the people, have decreased in numbers, and abandoned those
wild speculations which the rational portion of society are still
incredulous as to their ever having practised. Laying aside the
consideration of sects, all classes of the Welsh are deeply imbued with a
religious feeling. Churches and meeting-houses are well attended; every
adult can read his bible in the native tongue, and when a public place of
worship is either wholly wanting, or too remote, prayer meetings are held
with regularity in each other’s cottages, where, after the solemn reading
of the liturgy, the little congregation conclude their act of adoration
with a sacred hymn to God, in which all present, both old and young,
unite their voices.
It is a matter of some surprise that a people of so much sincerity in
religion should still be slaves to superstition. But probably the
solitude and silence of the glens they dwell in contribute to increase a
feeling which is uniformly found diffused through all remote and
mountainous countries. Amongst the most interesting of these relics of
ancient times, connected with religion is the remarkable care and
attention paid to the grave-stones and funeral honours of their deceased
connexions. The cemetery is the public walk of every hamlet, and the
affection borne to a brother when living seems to render even a bright
verdure on his grave a grateful prospect. In the custom of strewing the
graves of departed friends with flowers and evergreens these is something
which touches the feeling heart. It is a tribute of affection, a
posthumous recollection of a most impressive character. To live in the
remembrance of those we loved “when we go hence, and are no more seen,”
is a natural wish; a wish implanted in our souls by that Being, who
willed that we should be social creatures, and gave us all the kind
affections of our nature. This custom boasts a high antiquity, it is
found among the superstitions of pagan Rome, where, during the month of
February; the _feralia_ or honours paid to the manes of departed souls
were performed. Scattering of flowers and odoriferous plants constituted
a chief part of the ceremony. The custom is now confined to a few parts
of Europe, Ireland, Wales, and the Catholic cantons of Switzerland. In
the last of these an iron cross is placed upright, from which a bowl,
containing holy water, is suspended, with which the passers-by sprinkle
the graves of the deceased on their way to church.
A belief in the existence and mischievous propensities of the fairy tribe
was formerly amongst the chief superstitions. These troublesome elves
were supposed to milk the cows at night, to check them from yielding milk
at morn, and prevent the butter from forming in the churn. They changed
the infant left in the cradle, during the sleep or absence of its nurse,
and performed many other acts peevish, envious, and wicked. But the
exploits of this pigmy race are not peculiar to Wales, nor was their
existence as confidently believed here at any period as it still is in
other countries. One species peculiarly Welsh, are called _knockers_,
from their continued knocking or hammering under ground. This noise is
often heard by miners, and is invariably said to discover to the miner a
rich _load_ of ore. There is also a deep roaring of the sea, which is
believed to be a forewarning of some dire calamity. The inhabitants of
Llandudno heard this strange noise immediately previous to the melancholy
wreck of the Hornby Castle, and many other instances of remoter dates
could be adduced in support of this superstitious notion. Sometimes also
a _warning_ light is seen to shine out before a traveller, and conduct
him in the precise direction of his journey, distinguished from
jack-o’-the-lanthorn in this respect, that the latter cruelly “lures us
to our doom.”
However vain and obsolete most of these phantoms may now be considered,
some curious fancies are still entertained by the simpler part of the
population. A story is often propagated through the parish of a funeral
procession having passed along in a particular direction, without the aid
of horses or bearers. Carriages, without horses, are said to have been
seen and heard rolling along the road or round the village cross, the
coachman, passengers, and all other circumstances being disposed as
usual; and, many similar tales, obtain a ready credence amongst the
peasantry in several parts of North Wales even at the present period.
In the festivities of the wedding-day much gaiety and mirth prevail. The
bridegroom having the bridesmaid on his arm, and the bride leaning upon
the bridesman, followed by a number of bidden guests, present themselves
at the church door, where the order of the procession is reversed before
proceeding to the altar. After the ceremony the whole party, in rank and
file, and headed by the happy pair, _walk_, as it is called, in
procession through the village, until the hour of dinner. This
entertainment is usually provided at the home of the bride’s family, and
if the parties be sufficiently wealthy, is supplied at their expense,
but, if otherwise, each guest contributes a subscription proportionate to
his means. A fortnight afterwards an evening party assembles at the
house of some friend of the husband; amongst the poorer peasantry, it is
usual for every neighbour to attend, and upon entering lay down his
contribution on the tea-table. The night is then prolonged in mirth and
good humour, the merry dance being generally kept up till daylight to the
soft and gentle measures of the national lyre.
Fairs, which are very numerous, are attended by both sexes. Cattle are
bought and sold in the early part of the day, pedlery, hardware, &c.
continue to be exhibited during the remainder, and in the afternoon every
cottage for miles around sends forth some happy, well dressed votary of
mirth to participate in the festivities of the evening. The partiality
for attending fairs is very remarkable, even the necessitous postpone the
reception of little sums, to which by labour they have become entitled,
to the succeeding fair-day, contemplating the pleasure of meeting their
friends, from whom they were separated by occupation or inconvenience of
distance. The frequency of these fairs, so many scenes of cheerful
association—the number of annual, quarterly, and even weekly meetings
amongst the religious of different sects—the amusements enjoyed at
allotted festivals common to other countries—afford such frequent
opportunities of an intercourse tending to alleviate anxiety and care,
as, coupled with the agricultural distribution already adverted to, will
sustain the justice of the conclusion, that the Welsh peasantry may be
esteemed the most comfortable, happy, and independent in the British
islands.
* * * * *