CATTY***


Transcribed from the 1900[?] W. Nicholson and Sons edition by David
Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org





                                   THE
                            COMICAL ADVENTURES
                                    OF
                             TWM SHON CATTY,
                           (THOMAS JONES, ESQ.)
                          COMMONLY KNOWN AS THE
                            WELSH ROBIN HOOD.


    “In Ystrad Feen a mirthful sound
    Pervades the hollow hills around;
    The very stones with laughter bound,
    At Twm Shon Catty’s jovial round.”




PREFACE.


In presenting to the public the following Enlarged and Corrected Edition
of “Twm Shon Catty,” the author cannot forget that on its first
appearance in 1836, with “all its imperfections on its head,” it was
received with a welcome quite unlooked for on the part of the writer, and
he now presents this edition to the world, with several additions and
alterations.

On examining the cause of such unlooked-for approbation, he found it, not
in any merit of his own, but in the nationality of his subject, and the
humiliating suggestion that, slight as it was, it was the first attempted
thing that could bear the title of a Welsh Novel.

It is true others have made Wales the scene of action for the heroes of
their Tales; but however talented such writers might be, to the
Welshman’s feelings they lacked nationality, and betrayed the hand of the
foreigner in the working of the web; its texture perchance, filled up
with yams of finer fleeces, but strange and loveless to their
unaccustomed eyes.

Were a native of one of the South Sea Islands to publish the life and
adventures of one of their legendary heroes, it is probable that such a
production would excite more attention, as a true transcript of mind and
manners of the people he essayed to describe, than the more polished
pages of the courtly English and French novelist, who undertook to write
on the same subject.  On the same principle, the author of this
unpretending little provincial production accounts for the sunny gleams
of favour that have flashed on the new tract which he has endeavoured to
tread down, among briers and brambles of an unexplored way, while the
smoother path of the practised traveller has been shrouded in gloom.

The expression of the Author’s gratitude is here presented to the Rev. W.
J. Rees, Rector of Cascob, for numerous favours; and especially for the
historic and traditional matter that his researches furnished.  To the
Critics of the Cambrian Quarterly for their favourable notice of the
“Small Book,” a skeleton as it then was, compared to the present Edition,
imperfect as it still remains.  And lastly to the revered memory of the
late Archdeacon Benyon of Llandilo.  That lamented friend of Wales and
Welshmen, (whose aims were ever directed to the enlargement of the narrow
boundary within which prejudice and custom had encircled and enchained
Welsh literature,) in the town-hall of Carmarthen, before his highly
respectable Auditors, honoured this production with a favourable notice.
He warmly eulogised the Author’s attempt at the production of the first
Welsh Novel; and concluded by an offer of a pecuniary reward to the
person who could give the best translation of it in the best Welsh
language.




CHAPTER I.


THE name of Twm Shon Catty, popular throughout Wales.  “The Inn-Keeper’s
Album,” and the drama founded thereon.  Twm Shon Catty apparently born in
different towns.  A correct account of his birth and parentage.

It is often the custom, however foolish it may be, to frighten the
occupants of an English nursery into submission by saying, “The bogie is
coming,” and though the exact form or attributes of the said “bogie” are
by no means definitely known, the mere mention of the individual has
sufficient power to make the juveniles cover their heads, and dive under
the bed-clothes, with fear.  The preface to the once popular farce of
“Killing no Murder” informs us, that many a fry of infant Methodists are
terrified and frightened to bed by the cry of “the Bishop is
coming!”—That the right reverend prelates of the realm should become
bugbears and buggaboos to frighten the children of Dissenters, is curious
enough, and evinces a considerable degree of ingenious malignity in
bringing Episcopacy into contempt, if true.  Be that as it may in
England, in Wales it is not so; for the demon of terror and monster of
the nursery there, to check the shrill cry of infancy, and enforce silent
obedience to the nurse or mother is Twm Shon Catty.

But “babes and sucklings” are not the only ones on whom that name has
continued to act as a spell; nor for fear and wonder its only attributes,
for the knavish exploits and comic feats of Twm Shon Catty are, like
those of Robin Hood in England, the themes of many a rural rhyme, and the
subject of many a village tale; where, seated round the ample hearth of a
farm house, or the more limited one of a lowly cottage, an attentive
audience is ever found, where his mirth-exciting tricks are told and
listened to with vast satisfaction, unsated by the frequency of
repetition; for the “lowly train” are generally strangers to that
fastidiousness which turns disgusted, from a twice-told tale.

Although neither the legends, the poetry, nor the history of the
principality, seem to interest, or accord with the taste of our English
brethren, the name of Twm Shon Catty, curiously enough, not only made its
way among them, but had the unexpected honour of being woven into a tale,
and exhibited on the stage, as a Welsh national dramatic spectacle, under
the title, and the imposing second title, of Twn _John_ Catty, or, the
Welsh Rob Roy.  The nationality of the Welsh residents in London, who
always bear their country along with them wherever they go, was
immediately roused, notwithstanding the great offence of substituting
“John” for “Shon,” which called at once on their curiosity and love of
country to pursue the “Inkeeper’s Album,” in which this tale first
appeared, and to visit the Cobourg Theatre, where overflowing houses
nightly attended the representation of the “Welsh Rob Roy.”  Now this
second title, which confounded the poor Cambrians, was a grand expedient
of the Dramatist, to excite the attention of the Londoners, who naturally
associated it with the hero of the celebrated Scotch novel.  The bait was
immediately swallowed, and that tale, an awkward and most weak attempt to
imitate the “Great Unknown,” and by far the worst article in a very
clever book, actually sold the volume.

As Twm Shon Catty was invariably known to every Crymrian as a great
practical joker, they were of course proportionately surprised to find
him manufactured into a stilted, injured, melo-dramatic chieftain, for
the love of his _Ellen_, dying the death of a hero!

“This may do for London, but in Wales, where ‘_Gwir yn erbyn y byd_’ {9a}
is our motto, we know better!” muttered many a testy Cambrian, which he
felt doubly indignant at the authors’ and actors’ errors in the
mis-writing and the mis-pronouncing the well-known “sponsorial or
baptismal appellation,” {9b} as Doctor Pangloss would say: and another
source of umbrage to them was, that an English author’s sacrilegiously
dignifying Twm with the qualities of a hero, conveying the villanous
inference that Wales was barren of _real_ heroes—an insinuation that no
Welshman could tamely endure to forgive.  In an instant recurred the
honoured names of Rodri Mawr, Owen Gwyneth, Caswallon ab Beli, Own
Glyndwr, Rhys ab Thomas, and a vast chain of Cambrian worthies, not
forgetting the royal race of Tudor, that gave an Elizabeth to the English
throne; on which the mimic scene before them, and the high vauntings of
Huntley in the character of Twm Shon Catty, sunk into the insignificance
of a punch and puppet show, in comparison with the mighty men who then
passed before the mental eye.

Sir John Wynn, of Gwydir, bart., was the father of our hero, who was a
natural son by a woman called Catherine.  Little or nothing is known of
her, but surnames not being generally adopted in Wales, her son, by
Universal consent, was called “Twn Shon Catty,” which means literally,
“Thoms John Catherine.”  One very astute English Commentator informs us
that the name “Catty” originated in the fact that of his armorial
bearings included a Cat’s Eye!!  This is simply nonsense, as every
Welshman can testify.

Like the immortal Homer, different towns have put forth their claims to
the enviable distinction of having given our hero birth; among which
Cardigan, Llandovery, and Carmarthen, are said to have displayed
considerable warmth in asserting their respective pretentions.  A native
of the latter far-famed borough town, whose carbuncled face and rubicund
nose—indelible stamps of bacchanalian royalty—proclaimed him the
undisputed prince of topers, roundly affirmed that no town but
Carmarthen—ever famed for its stout ale, large dampers, {10} and
blustering heroes of the pipe and pot—could possibly have produced such a
jolly dog.  It is with regret that we perceive such potent authority
opposed by the united opinions of our Cambrian bards and antiquaries, who
place his birth in the year 1570, at Tregaron, that primitive, yet no
longer obscure, Cardiganshire town, but long celebrated throughout the
principality for its pony fair; and above all, as the established
birthplace of Twm Shon Catty.

He first saw the light, it seems, at a house of his mother’s, situate on
a hill south-east of Tregaron, called Llidiard-y-Fynnon, (Fountain-Gate,)
from its situation beside an excellent well, that previous to the
discovery of other springs nearer to their habitations, supplied the good
people of Tregaron with water.  That distinguished spot is now, however,
more generally known by the more elevated name of Plâs Twm Shon Catty,
(the mansion of Twm Shon Catty,) the ruins of which are now pointed out
by the neighbouring people to any curious traveller who may wish to
enrich the pages of his virgin tour by their important communications.

And now, having given our hero’s birth and parentage with the fidelity of
a true historian, who has a most virtuous scorn of the spurious
embellishments of fiction, a more excursive pen shall flourish on our
future chapters.




CHAPTER II.


THE grandfather of Twm Shon Catty.  Squire Graspacre on morality.  Sir
Jno. Wynn, the practical exponent of it—and our hero the result thereof.

Catty, the mother of Twm, lived in the most unsophisticated manner at
Llidiard-y-Fynnon, with an ill-favoured, hump-backed sister, who was the
general drudge and domestic manager.  Their mother had long been dead,
and their father, the horned cattle, a small farm and all its
appurtenances, had been lost to them about two years.  This little farm
was their father’s property, but provokingly situated in the middle of
the vast possessions of Squire Graspacre, an English gentleman-farmer,
who condescendingly fixed himself in the principality with the laudable
idea of civilizing the Welsh.

The most feasible mode of accomplishing so grand an undertaking, that
appeared to him, was, to dispossess them of their property, and to take
as much as possible of their country into his own paternal care.  The
rude Welsh, to be sure, he found so blind to their own interests as to
prefer living on their farms to either selling or giving them away, to
profit by his superior management.  His master-genius now became apparent
to everybody; for after ruining the owners, and appropriating to himself
half the neighbouring country, the other half became his own with ease