Early indications of Twm’s antiquarian propensities. His mother becomes
the very paragon of schoolmistresses. The originality of her system.
Twm becomes her pupil.
AS the period of early infancy rarely contains incidents worthy of the
recording pen of history, we shall bring our hero at once to his fourth
year. The biographers of great men have generally evinced a predilection
to present their readers with certain early indications of the peculiar
genius that has distinguished their heroes in after life; and far from us
be the presumption of deviating from such a popular and legitimate rule,
by any radical attempt at innovation or improvement. Pope’s lispings in
numbers, West’s quaker daubings in childhood, with many such instances,
not to mention Peter Pindar’s waggery on Sir Joseph Banks’s spreading
spiders on his bread and butter, are cases in point, which are familiar
to every reader; and it will not appear strange to those already
acquainted with his fame, that we have to add to these eminent names that
of our long-neglected hero. It is true he became neither a poet, a
painter, nor a natural historian, but, according to the unbiassed
opinions of geniuses of the same caste with himself, who could not be
suspected of either egotism or partiality, a superior character to
either—an eminent antiquary—to which may be added, though perhaps it
ought to take the lead—a no less eminent thief. Such is the prejudice of
these degenerate times that the latter designation has grown unpopular;
but according to _Bardolph’s_ hint, it might be profitably exchanged, on
the score of respectability, to “conveyancer:”—
“Steal! a fico for the phrase!
The wise call it convey.”
It is to be hoped that none of our readers will be infidels enough to
doubt the fact, when they are assured, on the indubitable testimony of
his mother, that our hero’s earliest propensity was to grub up old trash
and trumpery from the gutters of Tregaron—“filth,” as his parent wisely
observed, “which had better have been left alone;” and we may safely
appeal to any candid mind, and boldly ask whether this trait did not in
the most decided manner bespeak the future antiquary. Not a puddle could
be found but its depth and contents were duly examined by the
indefatigable Twm; and the curious urchin was always distinguishable from
the rest of his playmates by certain crusts of mud that adorned his tiny
woollen garb from top to bottom. As in these little fancies he spent the
greater part of his time, it became a wonder to his mother that he seldom
ran home for food; but it was soon discovered that he had a mode peculiar
to himself of raising contributions on the little public of which he was
a member, by forcing them to part with a portion of their bread and
butter—a praiseworthy act, and trebly commendable, as in the first place
it shewed his filial piety, in saving his mother the expence of his
victuals; in the next, it taught courtesy to the churlish, who in time
anticipated his demand by voluntary offerings; and thirdly, it engendered
the principle of honesty in their tender minds, by marking the propriety
of paying for their curiosity in gaping over the treasures of his puddles
and gutters. This, it will also be observed, was another feature that
announced his future character, which, it will be seen, “grew with his
growth, and strengthened with his strength.”
Here we must return again to our hero’s mother. On learning the event of
his amour, Sir John Wynne bought of the squire, and gave to Catti as her
own for ever, her paternal cottage of Llidiard-y-Fynnon. This fortunate
circumstance gave her no small importance in her neighbourhood. As the
house was large, and not overstocked with inhabitants, it occurred to the
good people of Tregaron, that a day-school might be established within
its walls; and having with their own consent found a school-room, by the
same indisputable right they fixed on Catti for its mistress, and
instituted her governess, to rule their tender progeny. Catti, with a
huge grin of approbation at her unexpected promotion, immediately
ratified their election, and declared both her house and self ready for
the reception of pupils at the moderate terms of a penny a week. Her
ill-favored sister clouded her brow, and elevated her hump on the
occasion, and asked very indignantly, who was going to clean the house
every day after such a grubby fry. Catti made no reply, but in the pride
of her heart hummed a gay song, scratched the mud off her boy’s clothes
with an old birch broom, which being hardened by sweeping the house,
answered the purpose better than a brush, and had some old coffers
converted into benches for the service of her scholars. She then, with
singular alacrity, proceeded to cut from the hedge, with her own fair
hand, one of the most engaging looking birch rods that ever was wielded
by rural governess. This premature display of the sceptre of severity
was far from fortunate, and nearly ruined the undertaking at the outset.
The tender mothers of Tregaron were startled at so unexpected a
proceeding, and pathetically declared they had rather that their dear
babes should be brought up like the calves and pigs, in the most bestial
ignorance, than have knowledge beaten into them at the nether end with a
birch rod. Catti immediately quieted their fears, by protesting that she
entertained the utmost abhorrence of the flagellation system, and that
the bunch of birch was cut and bound together for a very different
purpose, namely, to be suspended as a sign over her door. After a debate
of some hours among the amiable matrons, however, it was decided that the
birch should not be exalted even as an external symbol, over the door of
the school, as the very sight of it might strike a terror into the little
lubberly loves, and frighten them into fits. As Catti was all compliance
with their requisitions, every thing was set to rights; and without more
ado children were sent from every house where the affluence of the
inmates enabled them to give their offspring the first rudiments of
education. The mother of Twm became the very pink and paragon of
schoolmistresses. ’Tis true, the noise and uproar in her school was so
great, that the curate’s wife, who rode an ill-tamed horse, was thrown
headlong into the well, when passing the academy, from the animal taking
fright; but that was no fault of Catti’s; people should break in their
horses properly, and curates’ wives should learn to ride and keep their
seats better. Besides, the alledged uproar was the greatest evidence in
her favor, as it proved the tenderness of her heart in not correcting her
scholars—a quality more valued by their maternal parents than any other
that could possibly be substituted; and in their appreciation of this
prime desideratum, they omitted to enquire too minutely into her other
qualifications for a governess. Fastidious parents, to be sure, might
have insisted that she could read, at least; while others more lenient,
would have suggested the necessity of being able to spell, or at any
rate, to know her letters: but poor Catti could not have passed such a
rigid ordeal in either instance, had she been put to it. Yet that very
deficiency which might have troubled a weaker mind, was to her a great
source of satisfaction, as she always hugged herself warmly in the
gratifying recollection that no person could accuse her, in the words of
Festus to Paul, “Too much learning has made thee mad:” and with
unexampled liberality she determined that the rising generation entrusted
to her care, should participate to the utmost in these her negative
felicitous attainments.
Many of Catti’s pupils had been taken by their wise and considerate
mothers out of the curate’s school, fearful that his severity would break
their hearts; and having there learnt their letters and a little
spelling, they kept possession at least of what they had acquired, by
teaching other children, which flattered their childish vanity, while it
served their mistress, who, like a sage general that stands aloof from
the broil of battle, takes to himself the credit of success, while the
real operators are forgotten. Thus, in time, with the powerful support
of the matrons of Tregaron, who took the lead of their spouses, and
directed the taste and opinions of the clod-hopping community, Catti’s
school became an alarming rival to the curate’s.
Teachers, like all other scientific persons, must have their own systems;
and as our heroine’s was very original, though perhaps not entirely
peculiar to herself, with a view of communicating a benefit to others
less enlightened, who follow her avocations, we shall treat the reader,
once for all, with a solitary specimen of her method.
“Come here, little Gwenny Cadwgan,” said Catti one day, “Come here, my
little pretty buttercup, and say your lesson, if you can, but if you
can’t never mind, I won’t beat or scold you.” Gwenny came forward,
bobbed a curtsey, and, while her mistress broomed the mud from little
Twm’s breeches, and combed his head on the back of the bellows, began her
lesson.
_Gwenny_.—a, b, hab.
_Catti_.—There’s a good maaid!
_Gwenny_.—e, b, heb.
_Catti_.—There’s a good maaid!
_Gwenny_.—o, b, hob.
_Catti_.—There’s a good maaid!
_Gwenny_.—i, b,—I can’t tell.
_Catti_.—Skipe it, child, skipe it—(meaning “skip it.”)
_Gwenny_.—u, b, cub.
_Catti_.—There’s a good maaid! Twm, you little wicked dog, don’t kick
the child. Go on, Gwenny vach.
_Twm_.—(who had been struggling for some time to get from under his
mother’s combs,) I want to go a fishing.
_Catti_.—Lord love the darling child! You’ll fall into the river and be
drowned.
_Twm_.—Oh! no, mother; I always fish in the gutters.
_Dio Bengoch_.—I want to go home for some bread and butter.
“And I! and I! and I!” squalls every other urchin in the school; and out
they would run in a drove, on perceiving the independent exit of master
Twm, without waiting for the permission of his parent and governess.