A Welsh wedding, with all its preliminaries, and attendant circumstances.
The Bidding. The Gwahoddwr. The Ystavell. Pwrs a Gwregys. Pwython.
In which Twm Shôn Catti and Wat the mole-catcher play conspicuous 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
forever 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 Catti 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 pourtrayed 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 favor 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 very great,
where the parties are respected. {56} Another agreeable feature in the
rural festivities on these occasions is the appointment of a _Gwahoddwr_,
or Bidder, whose business it is to go from house to house, bearing a
white wand decorated with ribbons, and his staff of office; while his
hat, and sometimes the breast of his coat, is similarly adorned. Thus
attired, he enters each house with suitable “pride of place,” amidst the
smiles of the old people, and the 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. Wat 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 are a literal translation of those which were
written purposely for this occasion, by the reverend John David Rhys, a
young poetical clergyman, at this time on a visit with Squire Graspacre.
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 Sîr Gâr,
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
(If we can catch them!) 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. {57}
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.
During these preparations for his mother’s wedding, little Twm Shôn
Catti, by the squire’s orders given at the bridegroom’s request, was
gratified by a whole week’s absence from school; and Wat the mole-catcher
took the happy youngster along with him, during his pleasant excursion,
to every house where he had to perform the functions of the _Gwahoddwr_.
Here the boy was in the height of his happiness, and soon bedecked
himself as a mock _Gwahoddwr_; having cut and peeled a willow wand, and
attached to the end of it a bunch of rush flags and carpenter’s shavings,
in the place of ribbons, thus grotesquely accoutred, he sallied forth
with his protector, and winking to his companions who were lookers on,
burlesqued every action and peculiarity of the mole-snarer. It was on
this occasion that he sported the first effusions of his virgin muse, as
it is said, to the following effect, although it has been suspected that
the delivery only was his own. Like a little clown mimicking the adroit
performances of the harlequin, his speech each time followed the more
important oration of 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 Shôn Catti.
Twm’s delivery of these lines excited much mirth and laughter, and, added
to those of the real _Gwahoddwr_, drew more than ordinary attention to
this Bidding. Many of the children of the different houses had been
Twm’s school-fellows, and the pupils of his mother, which had the effect
of influencing them, and became a sort of tie, to claim their presence at
her Bidding. As Jack’s friends were in Carmarthenshire, another
_Gwahoddwr_ was appointed by his master to go with him to call on his
friends at his own native place; and so liberal was the squire on this
occasion, that he sent them both, mounted, on horses of his own.
Jack and his Bidder had no great success, as his friends reproached him
for his perverse intention of marrying a strange woman in a far land; and
therefore finding but little pleasure in the subject or manner of their
lectures, he made a precipitate retreat. Blushing for his countrymen,
and ashamed to own his failure in his own land, he bribed Ianto Gwyn the
harper, who was his Bidder, to silence; and brought with him to Tregaron,
in a hired cart, the common contribution of a bridegroom—namely, a
bedstead, table, stools, and a dresser. These, he feigned to have bought
with his Bidding-money, received at Carmarthen. Friday is always
allotted to bring home the _Ystavell_, or the woman’s furniture;
consisting generally of an oaken coffer, or chest; a featherbed and
blankets; all the crockery and pewter; wooden bowls, piggins, spoons, and
trenchers; with the general furniture of the shelf: but as Catti was
already provided with every thing of this kind, she had but little to add
to her stock.
The landlord of a public house originally called “the Lion,” but with a
sign resembling a more 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 Catti was similarly engaged at her
residence, with _her_ partizans, which were not a few. This custom in
Welsh is called _Pwrs a Gwregys_, or purse and girdle; and is, doubtless,
of very remote origin.
At length the long-looked for, the important Saturday arrived; a day
always fixed upon for the celebration of hymeneal ordinances, in Wales,
from the sage persuasion that it is a _lucky day_, as well as for the
convenience of the Sabbath intervening between it and a working day—a
glorious season of sunshine to the children of labour.
Contrary to Jack’s expectations, a considerable number of his
Carmarthenshire friends, mounted on their ponies, made their appearance
this morning, and honorably paid their _Pwython_; that is to say,
returned the presents which he and his relatives or friends had made at
different weddings. Jack’s resentful and sudden disappearance, it seems
had a beneficial effect on the feelings of his friends and countrymen;
and a jealousy of yielding the palm for liberality to a neighbouring
county stirred a spirit of emulous contention among them, which ended in
a resolution that a party should attend the wedding, and bear with them
the _Pwython_ of the others, who had an aversion to travel such a very
distant journey.
After depositing their offerings, and partaking of a little refreshment,
twelve of the bridegroom’s friends, headed by Ianto Gwyn the harper,
mounted their ponies and called at Catti’s house, to demand the bride;
and Wat the mole-catcher and _Gwahoddwr_, who added to these functions
the character of father to Catti, expecting their arrival, at length
heard without appearing, the following lines, delivered by the merry
harper, from the back of his poney.
Open windows, open doors,
And with flowers strew the floors.
Heap the hearth with blazing wood,
Load the spit with festal food.
The _chrochon_ {62} on its hook be placed,
And tap a barrel of the best!
For this is Catti’s wedding day;
Now bring the fair one forth I pray.
On which Wat, with the door still closed, made this reply without
appearing.
Who are ye all? ye noisy train!
Be ye thieves, or honest men?
Tell us quick what brings ye here,
Or this intrusion costs you dear.
Ianto Gwyn then rejoins,
Honest men are we, who seek
A dainty dame both fair and meek,
Very good, and very pretty,
And known to all by name of Catti;
We come to claim her for a bride;
Come father! let the fair be tied
To him who loves her ever well:—
Wat, still within, answers,
So ye say, but time will tell;
My daughter’s very well at home,
So ye may pack and backward roam.
Ianto Gwyn resolutely exclaims,
Your home no more she’s doom’d to share,
Like every marriageable fair
Her father’s roof she quits, for one
Where she is mistress: woo’d and won.
It now remains to see her wedded,
And homeward brought and safely bedded;
Unless you give her up we swear
The roof from off your house to tear,
Burst in the doors, and batter walls,
To rescue her whom wedlock calls.
Another of the bridegroom’s party then called aloud in a tone of
authority,
Peace, in the king’s name here! peace!
Let vaunts and taunting language cease;
We, the bridesmen, come to sue
The favor to all bridesmen due,
The daughter from the father’s hand,
And entertainment kindly bland.
Now the important ensnarer of moles, with the air of an ancient chieftain
who throws wide his castle gates for the hospitable reception of his
retainers, opens the door, struts forth, and with a smiling face gives
the welcome, while, with his party, he assists them to alight. 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 the rest 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 discovery that the _cwrw_
had any other effect than that of rendering her protector steady in his
seat on the saddle. Almost every sort of animal, large or small, lame or
blind, good or bad, seemed to have been pressed into the service, and
reduced to the levelling system, and without regard to either size or
quality, doomed to carry double. And thus they went on at a walking
pace, while the loud chat of many seemed drowned in the louder laughter
and calling of others, till now and then rebuked by some of the elders;
who, however, to little purpose, vociferated the words
decency—propriety—sobriety—sober purpose—&c. &c. the tendency of which
seemed but little understood. Jack was doomed to bestride a wretched
begalled Rozinante which the dogs could scarce pass without anticipating
their approaching feast, and looked like an equestrian knave of clubs ill
mounted; and if not very merry himself, was certainly “the cause of mirth
in others.” Elevated behind her temporary father on a fleet horse of the
squire’s, poor Catti was doomed to present purgatory to contrast her
enjoyment of future happiness, for, unprovided with a pillion, she sat on
the crupper, holding fast by Wat’s coat. The quiet pace which commenced
this little journey was soon changed into rough horsemanship, for the
mad-cap mole-catcher turning his steed into the Cardigan road, gave him
the spur, and commenced an outrageous gallop; the wedding partly followed
with all the might of their little beasts, and like valiant villagers in
chase of a highwayman, strove their utmost to rescue the bride. Ianto
Gwyn the rural bard and harper, ever ready with an extempore, produced
one on this occasion.
Lost, stray’d, or ran away
This moment from the king’s highway,
A tall and sightly strapping woman,
A 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.
Having considerably distanced his pursuers, he stopped at length, at
Catti’s request, who complained sadly of being sorely bumped upon the
buckle of the crupper. Dexterously turning to a bye-road towards the
church, he was soon perceived and followed by the party, and altogether
they soon arrived at their journey’s end, and alighting, they entered the
sacred fane with due decorum. Evans the curate, to enhance his own
services and increase his importance, took care to damp their hilarity by
keeping them waiting full three quarters of an hour, before he made his
appearance; and when he came, his looks and demeanor partook more of the
rigid priest of Saturn, than of the heart-joining, bliss-dispensing
Hymen. Although the conduct of every individual was perfectly decent, he
very sternly rebuked their smiles and happy looks, and actually
threatened not to perform the marriage ceremony, until, alarmed at the
menace, and indignant at his conduct, they all became perfectly joyless,
and most orthodoxically gloomy. The indissoluble knot was soon tied; and
no longer dependant on the good offices of the magisterial churchman,
their spirit of joyousness burst forth, while in the churchyard the
mellow harp of Ianto Gwyn was playing the sprightly air of _Morwynion
Glân Meirionydd_, or the Fair Maidens of Merionethshire; while many of
the party joined in the words which belong to that beautiful and
animating tune. Suddenly changing the air, the eccentric harper struck
up “Megen has lost her garter,” which was succeeded by “Mentra Gwen,” and
a string of such national melodies, equally gay and appropriate. After
the marriage, they returned in much the same order, or rather disorder;
with the difference that the bride sat behind her husband, instead of her
father: the harper playing the whole time, and many sweet voices joining
in the words of the airs. They soon entered Catti’s house, where her
sister Juggy had provided a good dinner, of which all partook, cost free,
except that every one had to pay for their own ale, the females of course
being treated. In the course of the evening, jigs, reels, and country
dances, were successively gone through with much spirit. Catti danced
with considerable agility; but Jack, pressed on all sides, and at length
compelled to make one, in a country dance, shewed every indication of
this being his virgin attempt at “the poetry of motion;” and alternately
stumping and blowing, while copious streams ran down his rugged forehead,
as they every instant corrected his erratic course, and literally pushed
him down the dance, he vowed that this his first, should also be his last
exhibition on the “fantastic toe.” Young Twm, who had been playing at
sweethearts, with little Gwenny Cadwgan on his knee, to the great mirth
of his seniors, soon brought her out to try her foot in the dance with
him. The poor little wench, blushing scarlet deep, made her first essay
with one equally young and inexperienced as herself; and the juvenile
pair were by many good naturedly instructed in the figure of the dance,
and they contributed not a little to the general harmony. Juggy, the
sister of Catti, absolutely refused to sport her figure among the
dancers, and treated Wat the mole-catcher with a hard favor in the face
for attempting to drag her in perforce. At length, fatigued with
dancing, and alarmed for the state of their inebriated friends and
companions, many, especially the females, turned their serious thoughts
towards home. It was now drawing towards the hour of retiring for the
night, when the usual trick was played of concealing the bride from the
bridegroom. Poor Jack, whom nature had not favored with a great share of
facetiousness, and who never mixed with such a company before, began to
be seriously alarmed. Great was the mirth of the party, while, with a
strange expression of countenance, he sought her up and down in every
corner of the house. At length he discovered a part of her red petticoat
sticking out from under the bottom of the straw armchair, and soon drew
her out from the place of concealment. The parting hour was now arrived;
then came the general shaking of hands, and serious expressions of good
wishes among the sober; while the tipsy folks vented their wit in jocular
allusions to their conjugal felicity: some offering themselves for
godfathers and godmothers to their future offspring, while others far
gone laid bets on the probability that the first child would be either a
boy or a girl. At this time considerable surprize was excited by the
conduct of an individual who had been remarkably unsocial the whole
evening, no person having heard him speak a word; and when asked a
question, or in answer to a health being drank, he merely nodded in a
hurried manner, and immediately drew hard at his pipe, and puffed forth
volumes of smoke, as if to envelope himself in a cloud of invisibility.
Every one was too much engaged with his own pleasures to give him much
attention, and thus he remained till the moment of departure, when he was
observed to stagger as he rose from his seat; somebody then observed,
that it must have been the smoke and not the beer that affected his
brains, as he drank but little: a remark that imputed 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 Catti my girl, and much good may it do you!” on which he put five
guineas into her hand. With emotions of wonder and gratitude, while
catching an eager glance at his face, Catti involuntarily exclaimed “the
squire!” when he darted out, mounted his horse, as did the rest of the
party, and disappeared.