“THE manners and customs” attendant on a Welsh Wedding. The Bidding.
The Gwahoddwr. The Ystavell. Pwrs a Gwregys. Pwython. In which our
hero and his friend Watt play rather important parts.
Carmarthen Jack had not been long waiting for his master, before little
Pembroke full of glee, ran to inform him that the embargo had been taken
for ever off bed courtship; and that he was now free whether guilty or
not. This happy news affected him so well that he met his master with
comparative ease; and after some struggles with his native bashfulness,
an important secret came out—that he was going to be married to Catty the
schoolmistress; and wished to know whether he should be retained in the
squire’s service after that event.
Now this was a circumstance exactly to the squire’s taste; as a Welsh
wedding portrayed many national features in the character of the
peasantry, that pleased him; and, as he was generally a donor on these
occasions, his vanity was flattered by being looked up to as their
patron. He of course acquiesced in his servant’s request, and after a
little jocular and rough rallying, proposed that the _Bidding_ should be
immediately commenced.
A _Bidding_ was another of the excellent customs peculiar to the Welsh,
but of late years confined exclusively to the lower classes, which the
squire so much admired, and considered worthy of imitation, he said,
throughout the world. It signifies a general and particular invitation
to all the friends of the bride and bridegroom elect, to meet them at the
houses of their respective parents, or any other place appointed. Any
strangers who choose to attend are also made welcome. It is an
understood thing that every person who comes, contributes a small sum
towards making a purse for the young pair to begin the world with. They
have a claim on those persons whose weddings they had themselves
attended; and at these times their parents and friends also make their
claims in their favour on all whom they may have at any time befriended
in a similar manner. These donations are always registered, and
considered as debts, to be repaid, on the occurrence of weddings only;
but there are many contributors, especially the masters and mistresses of
the parties, that of course require no repayment. These returns being
made only by small instalments, and only at the weddings of their donors,
are easily accomplished; and the benefit derived from this custom is
great, where the parties are respected.
A novel feature, to those who have been unaccustomed to the Welsh
wedding, is the Gwahoddwr or Bidder, who goes from house to house, with
his staff of office—a white wand embellished with ribbons. His hat, and
often the breast of his coat, is similarly decorated. Thus attired, he
enters each house with suitable “pride of place,” amidst the smiles of
the old people, and giggling of the young ones; and taking his stand in
the centre of the house, and striking his wand on the floor to enforce
silence, announces the wedding which is to take place, sometimes in
rhyme, but more frequently in a set speech of prose.
The banns were immediately put in, and every preparation made for the
wedding. Watt the mole-catcher, as the greatest wag in the parish, was
appointed by the squire to the enviable office of _Gwahoddwr_. The
following homely lines, from a correct and liberal translation of those
written for the purpose of giving Watt’s oratory full scope on this
occasion. The Rev. John David Rhys, a young poetical clergyman, at this
time a visitor with Squire Graspacre, was the author; and though they do
not betoken the “unapproachable of Parnassus,” they yet suited the
purpose for which they were penned.
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 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 Sheer Gâr,
And Catherine Jones, his chosen fair.
Haste to the wedding, its joy to share!
Mirth and good humour shall meet you there;
Come one, come all: there’s a welcome true
To master and mistress and servants too!
Stools you will find to sit upon,
And tables, and goodly food thereon,
Butter and cheese, and flesh and fish,
(If you can catch them!) all you wish.
There many a lad shall a sweetheart find,
And many a lass meet a youth to her mind,
While nut-brown ale, both good and strong,
Shall warm the heart for the dance and song.
Oft at the wedding are matches made,
When dress’d in their best come youth and maid,
And dance together, and whisper and kiss.—
Who knows what wedding 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 upon a crutch
Whoe’er gives the lovers twice as much!
Whatever is given, so much they’ll restore—
One shilling or two, or three, or four,
Whenever in similar case ’tis claim’d,
Else were defaulters ever shamed. {55}
So haste to the wedding, both great small,
Master and mistress and servants all!
Catty at home, Jack’s at the sign of the Cat;
Now God save the king and the bidder Watt!
During this hubbub and preparation, Twm Shon Catty was granted the
glorious privilege of a week’s holiday, and his friend Watt took him
along with him to every house where he had to act as bidder. To see, was
to learn with Twm, and to learn was to imitate. The thought soon struck
him that he might be a _Gwahoddwr_; so he at once cut a stout willow
wand, peeled it, and tacked a bunch of carpenter’s shavings and rush
flags to the top. Forth he went, and standing in the midst of a group of
admiring boys and girls, proceeded to imitate Watt in every motion. On
this occasion it is said he invoked the aid of the tuneful nine, and
composed the following effusion, but we suspect that he was only the
mouthpiece to the real poet.
After Watt had finished, our hero struck _his_ emblem of office upon each
floor, and repeated the following:—
Who’ll come to the wedding of Catty my mother?
Come mother, come daughter, son, father, brother,
And bring all your cousins, and uncles, and aunts,
To revel the 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 back,
To see mother married to spoon-making Jack;
He’s a spoon for his pains, as ye all shall see soon,
But lucky at finding a bowl to his spoon.
Haste, haste to the Bidding! my friends, if you 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 Shon Catty!
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 at
his own native place; and so liberal was the squire on this occasion,
that he sent them both mounted on horses of their 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
finding but little pleasure in the subject or manner of their lectures,
he made a precipitate retreat. Jack blushed for his countrymen, and he
had sufficient native delicacy to see that their liberality would
contrast disadvantageously with the warm generosity of Catty’s friends.
He therefore bribed Ianto Gwyn, the harper, who had acted as his bidder,
to silence; and brought with him to Tregaron, in a hired cart, the common
contribution of a bridegroom,—namely, a bedstead, a table, a stool, and a
dresser. These, he feigned had been bought with his bidding-money,
received at Carmarthen. Friday is always allotted to bring home the
_Yestavell_, or the woman’s furniture; consisting generally of an oaken
coffer or chest; a feather-bed and blankets; all the crockery and pewter;
wooden bowls, piggings, spoons, and trenchers, with the general furniture
of the shelf; but as Catty was already provided with every thing of this
kind, she had but little to add to her stock.
The landlord of the public-house originally called “The Lion,” but with a
sign resembling a more ignoble 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 butter, from them, while Catty 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 Saturday arrived; a day
generally fixed upon for the celebration of the 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.
Jack was agreeably disappointed to see a great many of his Carmarthen
friends had repented of their unkind treatment of his bidder, and had now
come to make amends. They came mounted on their ponies, and honourably
paid their _Pwython_; that is to say, returned the presents which he or
his relatives or friends had made at different weddings. Jack’s
resentful and sudden disappearance, had a beneficial effect on the
feelings of his friends and countrymen; and a jealousy of yielding the
palm for liberality to a neighbouring country, 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, being
nearly five and twenty miles, a distance in those days which was
considered no joke, but which we now, in this age of steam and
locomotion, bridge over in five and twenty minutes.
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 Catty’s house, to demand the bride;
and Watt the mole-catcher and _Gwahoddwr_, who added to these functions
the father to Catty, expecting their arrival, at length heard without
appearing, the following lines, delivered by the merry harper, from the
back of his pony.
Open windows, open doors,
And with flowers strew the floors,
Heap the hearth with blazing wood,
Load the spit with festal food
The _crochen_ {58} on its hook be placed,
And tap a barrel of the best!
For this is Catty’s wedding day!
Now bring the fair one out, I pray.
On which Watt, 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 now what brings you here,
Or this intrusion costs you dear!
Ianto Gwyn then rejoins,
Honest men are we, who seek
A dainty maid both fair and meek,
Very good and very pretty,
And known to all by name of Catty;
We come to claim her for a bride;
Come, father! let the pair be tied
To him who loves her ever well:—
Watt still within, answers;
So ye say, but time will tell;
My daughter’s very well at home,
So ye may pack and homeward roam.
Ianto Gwyn exclaims, in resolute tones,
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 calls aloud, in a voice of
authority,
Ho! peace in the king’s name, here peace!
Let vaunts and taunting language cease;
While we, the bridesmen, come to sue
The favour to all bridesmen due,
The daughter from the father’s hand,
And entertainment kindly bland.
Now the great Watt, the famous entrapper of moles, with airs mighty and
grand, well befitting the dignity of the occasion—and however absurd our
English brethren may term the custom, it is considered of serious
importance with us—throws open the door of Catty’s dwelling, sallies
forth to give the querists a warm welcome, and as a preliminary helps
them to dismount. After taking a little more refreshment, consisting of
newly-baked oaten cakes, with butter and cheese, washed down with copious
draughts of ale, they all remounted, and were joined by those of the
bridegroom’s party; the whole rustic cavalcade making their way towards
the church. A motley assemblage, 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 discovering that the _cwrw_ had any other effect but 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 loud laughter and shouting of others, till now and
then rebuked by some of the elders; who however, to little purpose,
vociferated the words decency—propriety—sober purposes—&c. &c., the
tendency of which seemed but little understood. Jack, the happy
bridegroom elect, bestrode a wretched apology for a horse, whose
antiquated legs trembled like an aspen leaf; as for its bones, they were
painfully apparent, and the very curs seemed, as they looked upon this
time worn piece of cattle, to anticipate their feast. Elevated behind
her temporary father on a fleet horse of the squire’s, poor Catty 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 Watt’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 party followed him 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 on this
occasion:—
Oh yes! lost, strayed, or run away
This moment from the king’s highway,
A tall and sightly strapping woman,
A circumstance which is a rum ’un;
’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
Catty’s request, who complained sadly of being sorely bumped upon the
buckle of the crupper. Dexterously turning to the bye-road toward 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 demeanour partook more of the
rigid priest of Saturn, than the heart-joining, bliss-dispensing Hymen.
His cherished plans, which were to result in a discovery of dishonour to
poor Catty, were terribly overthrown by this decent Welsh marriage, and
the curate was in a corresponding temper. His nature was not such as
would rejoice at virtue triumphant, more especially as he had calculated
upon vice occupying the same position.
He very sternly rebuked their smiles and happy looks, and actually
threatened not to perform the marriage ceremony, until, alarmed at the
menace, they all became perfectly joyless, and most orthodoxically
gloomy. The indissoluble knot was soon tied; and no longer dependent 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
Maids 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 “Megan has lost her garter,” which
was succeeded by “Mentra Gwen,” and a string of such national melodies,
equally gay and appropriate.
After the marriage ceremony, 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.
Coming to Catty’s house, the company found that Juggy had been useful and
hospitable. There was a first-rate dinner provided, in ample
proportions, of which all could and did partake freely; every one had to
pay for his own ale, but the females, by courtesy, were “treated” at the
expense of males. In the course of the evening, jigs, reels, and country
dances, were successfully gone through with much spirit. Catty danced
with much agility; Jack, pressed on all sides, and at length compelled to
make one in a country dance, showed 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 “light 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 at the dance with him. The poor little wench blushed
scarlet deep, made her first essay with one equally young and
inexperienced with herself; and the juvenile pair were very
good-naturedly instructed in the figure of the dance, and they
contributed not a little to the general harmony. Juggy, the sister of
Catty, absolutely refused to sport her figure among the dancers, and
treated Watt the mole-catcher with a hard favour in the face for
attempting to drag her in perforce. At length, fatigued with the
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 favoured 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 company, 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 arm-chair, and soon drew her out
from the place of concealment.
The parting hour had 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 godfathers and godmothers to their future
offspring, while others far gone in drink, laid bets on the probability
that the first child would be either a boy or a girl. At this time
considerable surprise 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 envelop himself in
a cloud of invisibility.
The mysterious stranger had been evidently “taking stock” the whole of
the evening, but whether pleased or displeased with the proceedings did
not appear, as reticence seemed to be about the only accomplishment he
possessed. Every one was too much engaged with their own pleasure 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 with smoke and not the
beer that affected his brains, as he drank but little; a remark that
imputed niggardly 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 ‘Catty’ my
girl, and much good may it do thee!” On which he put five golden angels
into her hand. With emotions of wonder and gratitude, while catching an
eager glance at his face, Catty involuntarily exclaimed—“the squire!”
when he darted out, mounted his horse, as did the rest of the party, rode
off, and disappeared.