Thereturn of our hero to Tregaron. His welcome from old friends, cronies, and acquaintances. Is engaged by Squire Graspacre, and is elevated socially and physically.
After setting out early in the morning, and walking all day over the rugged mountain road, the heart of Twm Short Catty thrilled with delight, and the tears filled in his eyes, when, late in the evening, his own native place, the humble town of Tregaron appeared before him. Each object that met his eager gaze was familiar; not a shrub but Twm knew it, not a spot but was remembered in Twm’s mind by some vagary or other practised either by himself or the renowned Watt; and although his feet were so blistered that he could scarcely move, he attempted to make his limbs partake of the new vigour which sprung up in his heart, and essayed to run, but failing in his aim, fell down completely mastered by exhaustion and fatigue. Whether, like Brutus, he was re-nerved by breathing awhile on the bosom of his mother earth, or that the thoughts within, of home and its association, gave him strength, he rose much refreshed, but with considerable pain continued the short untraced portion of his journey.
Entering the town, at length, just as the darkness began to veil every object, he came to his mother’s door, which was open, and cast an inquiring look before he entered. Catty had long dismissed her scholars, and sat in the chimney corner with her back towards the door; whilst Carmarthen Jack was busily engaged upon an artistic combination upon the handle of a ladle. He was a thoroughly business man, as far as spoons and ladles were concerned, and on this occasion he sat sullenly busy in scooping out the bowl of a new ladle.
Twm’s merry trick-loving soul is not to be subdued by his troubles; having drawn his flat-rimmed old hat over his eyes, he leaned over his mother’s hatch, and ina feigned voice, begged for a piece of bread and cheese, saying that he was a poor boy, very hungry and tired, who was making his way home to Lampeter. “We are poor folk ourselves, and have nothing to give,” said Carmarthen jack, rather gruffly. “Stop!” cried Catty, “he’s a poor child, Jack, a bit of bread and cheese is not much, and somebody might take pity on my poor Twm, and give him as much, if he should need it.”
The affectionate heart of Twm could no longer contain itself, but opening the latch, he burst forward, dashing his hat on the ground, and falling on her neck, giving the most ardent utterance to the word “mother,” and after the tender pause of nature’s own embrace, he cried with streaming eyes, “My good, kind, charitable mother! you shall never want bread and cheese while your poor Twm has health and strength to earn it.” Warmly returning his embrace and kisses, Catty long clasped her boy, and was quite terrified to see his pale lean cheek, and altered looks. Ashamed of the exposure of his pitiless nature, Jack now came up, shook hands and condoled with him, but Twmhad seen the man,and loved him not.
Twm was an excellent judge of human nature, and he knew well the duplicity and cunning of his father-in-law, and shunned him accordingly. Twm would never fraternize harmoniously with those he did not like. In this, he was invariably honest.
After being refreshed, Catty eagerly enquired of all that had happened to him since he left home, and wept much as he detailed his narrow escape from starvation and the small-pox. By twelve o’clock next day, his tale was known to everybody at Tregaron.
The catastrophe at Morris Greeg’s, of course, was considered a judgment from heaven for his miserly propensities; and Ianto Gwyn again set his poetical muse at work, and after a slight effort wrote a pathetic ballad, to the great edification of old women and tender-hearted damsels, giving atrue and particularaccount of the whole affair; to which was attached a moral on thecruelty of mal-treating parish apprentices, and stuffing them with mouldy bread and sour flummery. This interesting ballad was daily sung by Watt, the mole-catcher, to the English tune of Chevy Chase, which gained the good-will of all those old cronies who had taken deep offence at his numerous tricks.
Carmarthen Jack, although so careful of his bread and cheese, was determined not to be outdone on this occasion, but brought the graphic art to perpetuate his stepson’s tale; that is to say, he carved on a wooden bowl the figures of four beings, well-attended, in bed, with the scythe of death across their throats, while in the distance a meagre boy was snatching a joint of meat from the fire. The effort, artistically regarded, was not calculated to carry away the Royal Academy’s prize; the idea perhaps was better than the execution; but altogether it gained Jack very great applause.
Right glad were all Twm’s cronies to see him again at Tregaron; but dearer than all to him was the welcome of the curate Rhys, with whose books he was again permitted to make free, while he profited by his instructions and conversation. He had now been at home about three months, and recovered his health, strength and spirits to perfection; when his mother fancied he had become an eye-sore to her husband, who she thought looked at him with the scowling brow of a step-father, which Twm’s conduct, she might imagine, justified, as his behaviour towards Jack had been very unconciliating, ever since the bread and cheese adventure.
With this impression, Catty once more waited on Squire Graspacre, to solicit that some employment should be found for her boy, as she could not afford to keep him in idleness. The tale of his sufferings atGwern Ddu, interested the squire in his favour; and he felt some reluctance to send him again as a parish apprentice. The worthy curate, Rhys, had also spoken a kind word in his late pupil’s favour; and Carmarthen Jack, gaping, hat in hand, looked as if he would say much to get rid of his step-son, could he hit onwords to his purpose. Amused by his simplicity and awkward gestures the squire asked him,
“Well, Jack, what would you advise me to do with Catty’s boy?” This plain question met with as blunt an answer, “Make him your servant boy, sir, if you please.” “And so I will, old hedgehog!” cried the squire, slapping him on the shoulder, “Your oratory has settled the matter.”
Accordingly, our hero next appears as the squire’s man at Graspacre-Hall. This was an agreeable change in life to him, where he lived, as they say in clover; and by his good temper and turn for mirth, gained the good-will and admiration of his fellow-servants, particularly the girls, with whom he became an especial favourite. Behold him now in the seventeenth year of his age, with his looks and habits of twenty, gay, happy, and as mischievous as an ape; kissing and romping with the girls, caring for none of them, but showing attentions to all, while he jeered and mocked the cross-grained and disagreeable, and whenever he could, raised a laugh at their peculiarities. His employments at the squire’s were various, among which, waiting at table every day, neatly dressed, and carrying his master’s gun, and attending him during his shooting excursions, formed the principal.
To these, Squire Graspacre, who since the death of his wife was ever wench-hunting, aimed to add the noble office of pimp, which Anglicized, means, the honourable office of wench-procurer, to satisfy the lustful appetite of the squire. Twm, however, had been swayed too long by the counsels of Rhys the curate, to lend himself to any such service; and having by his conversations with him, and by the tenor of his readings, imbibed a taste for romantic honour, he was not without a secret hope that his great father might some day own him, and destine him to a very different sphere in life. With the growth of these notions, rose in his mind a distaste for servitude, and an ardent longing to shine in a sphere allied to literature and respectability.
Twmgoes the way of all flesh, and “falls in love.” So does the Squire, with Twm’s maiden. Twm defeats his master’s scheme. The adventures of farmer Cadwgan’s ass. Twm makes his exit from Squire Graspacre’s “local habitation.”
The squire and his man Twm returning one evening from grousing on the hills, in their descent towards the valleys had to pass by a small farm-house, inhabited by a tenant of the squire’s, who whispered Twm, “This is the keep, the close, that contains better game, and can afford livelier sport than any I have had to-day.” Twm by his silence testified his ignorance of his drift; but he resumed, “What! you don’t understand me? haven’t you seen this farmer’s plump partridge of a daughter, the pretty Gwenny Cadwgan, you young dog! I am determined to have that bird down, some way or other, and you must help me. She is fine game, and well worth bringing down. She will take time, I know, but if she should be shy why then
“I’ll weedle, coax, and try my arts,For I can play a thousand parts;When she shall weep, I’ll laugh and sing:The devil to my aid I’ll bring.She’ll ne’er resist me long, I ween,For many a victory I have seen;The wench will kick, but what of that?I’ll bear the brunt: she’s plump and fat.”
“I’ll weedle, coax, and try my arts,For I can play a thousand parts;When she shall weep, I’ll laugh and sing:The devil to my aid I’ll bring.She’ll ne’er resist me long, I ween,For many a victory I have seen;The wench will kick, but what of that?I’ll bear the brunt: she’s plump and fat.”
Before Twm could reply, the squire alighted and entered the cottage, at the door of which the farmer and Gwenny Cadwgan, now grown a fine and blooming young woman, met and welcomed their landlord. Some oaten bread, butter, and cheese, and a cup of homely-brewed ale were put before him; and while he ate, the pretty Gwenny carried a portion to Twm, as he held the horses in the yard. While he received the welcome food from the hand of the happy smilinggirl, he perceived the blush with which she gave it, and felt in his breast certain sensations no less new than agreeable.
Thus, while each other made brief allusions to their days of childhood, a tear started in the eyes of Twm, on seeing which the bright eyes of Gwenny were also suffused, till the pearly drops over-ran her fresh ruddy cheeks. Her father then calling her in, she suddenly shook hands with, and left our hero, who in that hour became a captive to her charms, while the innocent girl herself then felt the first shooting of a passion that daily grew, in sympathy with his own.
The squire having finished his hasty lunch, he remarked to his tenant Cadwgan in a hurried manner, that he should have company the next day to entertain at his house, and would thank him to let his lass come to the hall to assist in attending on them. The farmer of course, assented in words, for what small farmer would dare to deny his landlord such a favour, though his heart might tremble with apprehensions?
After the squire’s departure, Cadwgan became deeply distressed at the predicament in which he found himself; to deny his landlord, was probably to lose his farm; and to assent to his specious proposal, was to endanger, if not utterly ruin the innocence of his darling daughter; as since the death of Mistress Graspacre, more than one of the neighbouring damsels had to rue their intimacy with the squire, who inveighled them to the hall with all sorts of arts, pretences, and excuses, and then contriving that he should be alone with the object of his lust, had paid them a little of that “delicate attention” which he had previously recommended to the father of Twm. The poor farmer passed a restless night of bitter reflection, and saw daylight with an agonized spirit; but the active mind imbued with honourable ideas, never fails in due season to work its own relief.
When Twm appeared next morning on horse-back before his door, with a pillion behind, Cadwgan’s terrorshad vanished, his indignation at the premeditated injuries intended him, was roused, and with braced nerves, and a firm heart, he determined to deny the squire, and abide the consequences, be what they might. But honest nature was elsewhere at work in Cadwgan’s favour, and unknown to him, had raised a friend to save him from the impending perils, to the preservation of both his farm and his more precious daughter, in the person of young Twm Shon Catty.
On his journey home the last evening, while listening to his master’s commands, and hearing his plan to inveigle the innocent Gwenny, Twm was mentally engaged in studying some mode to preserve her from his clutches; and at length heroically determined to save the object of his admiration, even at the risk of losing his place, and being cast again on the wide world. He fed his fancy all night in dwelling on her beauty, and the merit of preserving her, while he ardently enjoyed in anticipation the sacrifice he was about to make for her sake.
The morning came, and the squire gave the dreaded order, “Take the horse Dragon, put a saddle and pillion on him, and bring the farmer’s lass behind you here; tell Cadwgan not to expect her back to-night, but she shall be brought to-morrow, and by that time, Twm, we shall have shot the plump partridge, and found her good game, I doubt not.” Although Twm had been preparing himself to give a doughty reply, and so commence the heroic character he had modelled, yet when the moment came, his resolution failed him, and the high-sounding words were not forthcoming; although the determination to disobey remained as strong as ever. He rode off, through Tregaron, and up the hills, in a melancholy mood, without any settled purpose, except that of straightforward resistance to the orders he had received. As he jogged on listlessly, he was suddenly roused from his reverie by the braying of Cadwgan’s ass, that was grazing in a green lane, which he was about to enter. Such an animal being a rarity in the country, Twm,with surprise, audibly muttered, “What the devil is that!”
An old woman at that moment opening the gate, which she civilly held for our hero to pass into the lane which she was leaving, hearing his words, replied, “It is only Cadwgan’sass.” Twm, whose thoughts ran entirely on the farmer’s fair daughter, mistaking what she said, rejoined, “Cadwgan’slass, did you say?” “You are very ready with your mocks and pranks, Master Twm,” cried the old woman, slamming the gate against the buttocks of the horse, “but you know very well that I said Cadwgan’sass, and notlass! for I should be very sorry to compare the good and pretty Gwenny Cadwgan to such an ugly ill-voiced animal.” Twm was amused at the error he had made, made the good dame theamende honourable, bade her good day, and rode forward with new spirits, for this little adventure had furnished him with the means of deliverance for little Gwenny, and a defeat to his master’s unlawful desires.
The farmer’s mind being made up, as before observed, to refuse the attendance of his daughter at his landlord’s, he was astonished to hear Twm say, “Master Cadwgan, it was Squire Graspacre’s order to me, that I should saddle this horse, come to your house, and, with your consent, bring yourassto him, on the pillion behind me.” Cadwgan stared doubtfully, and Twm resumed, “I hope you are too sensible to question or look into the reasonableness of his whims, and will be so good as to catch the strange animal, which I passed on the road, that we may tie him across the pillion.”
Cadwgan immediately concluded this to be a providential mistake of the young man’s, that might have the most desirable effect of relieving him from his apprehended trouble, and with a ready presence of mind said, laughing, “To be sure it is no business of mine to look into the oddness of his fancies, and he shall have my ass by all means.”
“Put an L to ass, and ’twill belass,” said Twm seriously, and with emphasis, “and such is the squire’sdemand; but,” said the youth with, rising enthusiasm, “I will risk my life to save your daughter from his snares, and will feign that I thought he saidassinstead oflass, to be brought on the pillion.” Affected by this instance of generosity, the farmer, as well as his lovely daughter, burst into tears, thanking and blessing him; whilst the former told him that if he lost his place through the adventure, his home was always open to him. Twm was not slow in thanking them for their kindness, but a smile from Gwenny rewarded him more than anything said, or anything promised could do.
While Cadwgan went out to catch the long-eared victim, Twm spent a delicious half-hour in the company of fair Gwenny; and took that opportunity to protest the ardour of his affection for her, and vowed that whatever fortune favoured him with the means of getting a livelihood independent of servitude, it would be the glory of his life to come and ask her to be his own. The maiden heard him with streaming eyes and heaving breast, nor withdrew her cheek when her lover imprinted on it affection’s first kiss; she considered it as a sacred compact, the seal of a true lover’s faithful covenant; one never to be broken by the intrusion of another.
Cadwgan at length returned, with his charge in a halter, grumbling and abusing the beast at every step, in consequence of having led a pretty dance in chase of her. With the assistance of Twm and a neighbouring cottager, he now tied the animal’s legs and lifted her into the seat of the pillion, a situation that her struggling and resistance indicated to be more elevated than comfortable. Twm, however, rode on slowly with his grotesque companion, without the occurrence of an accident, till they arrived at Tregaron; when the whole town, men, women, and children, came to enjoy the strange sight, amidst roars and shouts of laughter. The ass either was not comfortable, or she felt her asinine dignity assailed, andtherefore “he haw’d” her disapproval of the proceedings. She further manifested her displeasure by making a strong attempt to reach terra firma, eventually thinking it unjust to make her ride when she was perfectly able and willing to walk.
Straining every nerve to liberate her captive limbs, she at length succeeded in breaking the cord by which she was fastened to the pillion, and tumbled in a heap to the ground, where she struggled hard, and soon shook off every remnant of her hempen gyves; and in all the pride of high achievement and newly acquired freedom, ran with all her might through the town, brandishing her heels to right and left whenever any person approached to impede her career, till through a long narrow lane she reached the mountains. Here she seemed to defy her numerous pursuers; but after a long chase, which lasted till dusk, she was surrounded, secured, and placed in her former situation behind our hero on the pillion.
At length he reached Graspacre Hall, and made his approach at the back of the house. His step-father assisted him and his companion to alight, leading the latter to the stable, while Twm went to inform his master of his arrival, and the cause of his long delay. A tremor suddenly seemed to paralyze poor Twm, well knowing the wrath his disappointed master would shower down upon his devoted head. He mentally thought he should be thankful to anybody who could liberate him out of this dilemma; but after his fit of apprehension had lasted a few minutes, he plucked up his courage and his breeches at the same time, exclaiming, “Well! he can’t kill me for it:” and thus self-comforted he entered the house.
The squire at this time was seated at the head of the table, pushing down the bottle among his friends, principally consisting of the neighbouring gentry.
In the course of the day he had sent several times to know whether Twm had arrived. When little Pembroke at length went in to announce his return, he desired he should be immediately sent in, and Twmapproached him with a burning cheek and an agitated heart. He questioned him in an undertone, askingif he had brought her, and where he had been so long; to which Twm replied, “Yes, sir, I have brought her, and much trouble I had with her, for she didn’t like to come, thinking perhaps you meant her foul play; and once she escaped off the pillion into the mountain.”
“The devil she did!” cried the squire; “but you caught her again?”
“Oh yes, sir, after losing much time, I have brought her at last, and she is now much tamer than at first; and you can do what you like with her.”
“That’s very well,” said the squire; “I like the notion that she is very tractable.”
“Oh! you’ll find she’ll do anything now, though I had to make her know her right position. She rolled off the pillion in Tregaron, and showed her legs most dreadfully.”
“Fie! fie!” said the squire, “I hope you did not look at them?”
“Faith, but I did then, and very pretty they looked. But you’ll be able to give your own opinion, sir, by and bye.”
“A good lad, Twm, a good lad, remind me to give you a golden angel for this day’s work; but what have you done with her? where is she?”
“Why, sir,” cried Twm. “I tied her up to the manger and locked the door, to prevent her escape.”
“Shame, Twm, shame! you ought not to have done that, for she will think it was by my orders, and hate me perhaps for my supposed cruelty,” quoth the squire, thinking all the time that Cadwgan’slass, and not his ass was the subject of discussion.
“No, sir,” replied Twm, “but it is likely though, that she will have an ill-will towards me, as long as she lives, for it.”
“Well, well,” said his master hastily, “take her from the stable into the housekeeper’s room, and tell Margery to comfort her and give her a glass of wine.”
This was too much for Twm, and the smotheredlaugh burst out in spite of his efforts; on which, his master with a severe brow, asked how he dared to laugh in his presence. “Indeed I could not help it,” cried Twm, “but I don’t think she ever drank a glass of wine in her life, and perhaps might not like it.”
“Why, that’s true; then tell the butler to give out a bottle of the sweet home-made wine for her—let it be a bottle of the cowslip wine, and say that I am very sorry for the trouble and vexation she has had.”
“Yes, sir,” cried Twm, who made his bow and retired to the servants’ hall, where he made them acquainted with the squire’s freak of having farmer Cadwgan’s ass brought there on a pillion behind him; and that it was his master’s orders that she was to be brought into the house-keeper’s room, and a glass of wine given to her, and that Margery was to make her comfortable.
They were all aware of their master’s occasional eccentricities, and that he was as absolute in demanding obedience to his wildest whims, as to the most important matter in the world. With one accord they therefore brought the ass, not without great trouble and opposition on the part of the poor animal, into the housekeeper’s room, where Glamorgan Margery spread a small carpet for her to lie on, and amidst the side-aching laughter of the servants, offered a glass of wine, which no persuasion could induce her to accept.
The squire had given orders that no person was to answer the bell the rest of the evening but Twm. It was now rung, and in went our hero, when he was asked, “How is she now?” “Rather fatigued sir; she doesn’t like wine, nor would she touch a drop of it.” “Well, well,” said the squire, “if she likes ale better let her have some, with a cold fowl and something of the nicest in the house, though perhaps she would prefer a cup of tea to anything. After she has taken the refreshment she chooses, tell Margery to put her to bed, in the green chamber, then lock the door and bring me the key. I can thenvisit her when I am ready, you know Twm, and depend upon it I will reward you in the morning.” Here Twm’s risible faculties were again oppressed to bursting, but a look from his master checked him, though he bit his lip till the blood started in the aid to check his laughter.
Squire Graspacre now secretly anticipated the completion of his scheme, anxiously waiting for the departure of his guests, who by their noisy hilarity had long given notice that a little more devotion to the bottle would lay them under the table. The wily squire however desisted, before he had passed the boundary of what topers callhalf and half, considering in the mean time, that his plan would best succeed by not appearing before Gwenny Cadwgan till midnight, when all his household would be asleep, and himself supposed to have retired to his room.
After some trouble, which was heightened by their forced suppression of laughter, that however, broke out in spite of them, the servants got the donkey up stairs, having previously fed her with bread, oaten cakes, and oats, on her rejection of ale, wine, fowl, and tea, which to their great amusement they had successively offered her in vain. Having brought the poor animal into the green room, the best chamber in the house, and kept only for particular guests, they placed her on the fine handsome bed; the legs being already tied, they fastened them also to the bed-posts. Twm heightened the drollery of the scene by cutting two holes in a night-cap, drawing through the donkey’s ears, and slitting it at the edge, he drew the cap down carefully towards the eyes. The bed-clothes were then carefully drawn up to the ass’s neck, the curtains half drawn, and the first ass that ever slept in a feather bed was then left to enjoy its slumbers as best it could. They bade her good night, locked the door, and gave the key to their master.
The guests at length dispersing, they all rode off as well as their muddled heads would let them, to their respective homes; the squire, as was his custom,locked the door himself, and saw every light in the house out before he retired. At length he gained his chamber, and all was still in Graspacre-Hall. The amorous squire, chuckling at his luck as he thought of the fair lass in the green-room, grew too impatient to wait till the proposed hour of midnight, and leaving his candle on his own table, took off his shoes, and softly approached the casket that he deemed contained his precious jewel.
Applying the key, he opened the door very gently, and cautiously approaching the side of the bed, said in a whisper towards the pillow, “Don’t be alarmed, Gwenny, my dear, ’tis I, the squire; fear nothing, my girl, this will be the making of your fortune, my dear; and if you are as kind and loving as I could wish you to be, you may soon become the second Mrs. Graspacre.”
Hearing no reply, he considered that according to the old usage,silence gives consent, and proceeded to bend his face down to kiss the fair one, when a severe bounce inflicted by hisincognita’ssnout, knocked him backwards off the bed to the floor, and set his nose a-bleeding.
After recovering himself a little, though labouring under the delusion that the blow had been struck by the hand of the fair maiden, he exclaimed in an under-tone, “You little wixen! how dare you treat me in this manner?” The answer received was a loud and repeated “he-haw,” with the clattering of hoofs against the bedposts. Now hoofs are suggestive, and the squire rather believed in the supernatural. He again proceeded towards the bed, but was completely horror-struck at the loud bray which the terrified ass sent forth; while the poor terrified animal, after a hard struggle, liberating her limbs, struck him a severe blow on the forehead with her hoof, and getting off the bed, made a terrible clatter with her shod feet over the boards of the room. The unfortunate squire, although hitherto a loud decrier of superstition, now felt a thrill of the utmost horror pervade him, while he decreed himself ensnared bythe enemy of man, as the punishment of his guilty intentions; and after a clamorous outcry fell senseless on the floor.
The servants having but concealed the light, expecting somedenouementof this sort, now rushed in, and saw their fallen master ghastly pale, with streams of perspiration running over his forehead, while his wildly-staring eyes alternately looked at, and turned from, the monster of alarm. When he had sufficiently recovered to learn the real state of affairs, from little Pembroke, who had been made Twm’s confidante in this matter—how that wight had brought the farmer’s ass according to his orders behind him on the pillion, although he had been in some doubt whether he had said Cadwgan’sassor Cadwgan’slass, the squire’s rage was boundless.
Squire Graspacre’s rage can be better imagined than described, and all the dormant fiends of evil were at once awakened in his bosom, and the feeling which first actuated him was that of revenge upon Twm, and secondly shame at having been duped, and that with the knowledge of all his household. Exasperated at the trick put upon him by a mere youngster, and a menial, and scarcely less provoked at the exposure he had made of himself before his servants, down he rushed into the hall, and snatched a heavy horsewhip, unlocked the door, and made his way towards our hero’s chamber over the laundry; but when he reached the bedside, prepared to inflict the severest punishment that the thong of a whip was capable of, how great was his mortification to find the bird had flown! His chagrin and resentment were anything but lessened, when he took a piece of paper off the bed, on which, in a large hand, were written these pretty lines:—
If from lass you take the letter L.Then lass is ass if I have learnt to spell;Yes ass and lass methinks are coupled ill.Though human asses follow lasses still!An ass were I too—could I so arrange ill,If now I stay’d to claim my promised angel.
If from lass you take the letter L.Then lass is ass if I have learnt to spell;Yes ass and lass methinks are coupled ill.Though human asses follow lasses still!An ass were I too—could I so arrange ill,If now I stay’d to claim my promised angel.
Twmfinds that his father-in-law is as churlish as ever, but Carmarthen Jack comes to grief in consequence. The Squire turns reformer. His children arrive at the hall. A tender Devonian. Twm satirizes the cook. Thrashes the young squire, and then “disappears.” Calls upon Cadwgan and Rhys. An adventure on the hills.
Twm reached his mother’s at Tregaron about one o’clock in the morning, and alarmed her greatly by the account he gave of his flight from the squire’s, and the cause which led to it. Jack consoled poor Catty by assuring her that her son would go to the devil, and that ruin would come upon them through his tricks, to a certainty. Number one again, as the reader will see, with very little affection for his wife’s offspring. It is a selfish world, and Jack did as Rome did, none the less eagerly because it always suited his own convenience. He concluded by saying that they ought to turn poor Twm adrift, and leave him to himself in order to conciliate the squire. While Jack beneath the bed-clothes, was grunting these suggestions of worldly wisdom, Catty half-dressed, was sitting dejectedly in the chimney corner.
Having caught the drift of his father-in-law’s mutterings, he rose abruptly, snatched up his hat, and while striding to the door, cried, “Good night, mother.” Alarmed at his precipitate movement, and the tone in which he spoke,—“Where are you going, Twm?” said Catty. Turning around, while he held the door in his left hand, he replied, “Anywhere mother—the world is wide—and I’ll go headlong to the devil, rather than stay here, where I am not welcome.” With that he closed the door, and was in a moment out of sight, notwithstanding the cries and entreaties of his mother, who ran after, and earnestly sought to bring him back.
Catty, with a bitter conscience, now found thather son had a step-father, and she a husband, who was a rude and churlish tyrant. To give him his due, Jack was far from being regardless of her sorrow, but showed the tenderness of a husband in comforting her, in a manner most natural to himself. “What signifies crying for such an imp of a devil as that?” said this kind step-father: “if he starves in the field by being out to-night, it will save him from dying at the gallows, where he would be sure to come some day or other.”
This tender-hearted speech had the unexpected effect of immediately curing Catty’s grief, which turned to a desperate fit of rage, and without a word to signify the transition wrought by his oratory, she snatched up a stout broom-stick from the floor, and be-laboured him with all her strength, as he lay beneath the bed-clothes, till he roared like a baited bull. When the strength of her arm failed, the energy of her tongue commenced; and after rating him soundly, she concluded her harangue with eloquent pithiness, hoping that she had left him a shirtful of bones; and expressing a devout hope that he would eventually arrive at that elevated position in society which he had described as the probable fate of her darling son. After which exertion and speechifying, she thought proper to disappear.
Jack, although he received some hard blows, by dodging under the bed-clothes, escaped better than his help-mate intended he should; he soon rose, dressed himself and went to his master’s sauntering sullenly about the outhouses till daylight, when a servant informed him, after narrating Twm’s trick on his master, that he was to take Cadwgan’s ass home.
Squire Graspacre, since the death of his wife, gave such free range to his licentious pleasures, as placed him, especially at his years, in a most unseemly light. His only son had been two years at Oxford, returning only occasionally during the vacations; while his two daughters on the death of their mother, were sent to a boarding-school at Exeter. Thus in his own family he had no witnesses of his vices and follies.He soon found, however, that in Wales, his offences against religion and morality were not to be committed with impunity. The respect in which he was formerly held by the country people gradually declined, while those who had daughters became extremely shy, and sent their female inmates out of the way whenever he approached.
The squire was not slow to discover these changes, and all the pride of his nature, that pride which loved ambition and power, which demanded implicit obedience, and loved to sway the sceptre of power, had aroused him within; determined to subdue the glaring insolence, as he deemed it, of his neighbours. Never deficient in penetration, he was not long in discovering this change in the bearings of his tenants and neighbours, which to a mind like his, proud, fond of domineering, and being looked up to as the superior—the grand central luminary of his sphere, round which all others moved as silent and respectful satellites—was a very hell.
The minds of men, however, are not to be overruled, and with a wisdom rare as effective, he immediately resolved, as the only mode of re-establishing his credit and happiness, to retrace his steps—to which end he sent for his daughters home, at a time when his son was about to return from Oxford—and thus, by the presence of his children, place a restrictive guard upon his future conduct. With this change in his ideas, it will be no wonder that Twm Shon Catty was again taken into favour, and replaced in his former situation.
At length the merry bells of Tregaron announced the arrival of the heir, and the young ladies of Graspacre Hall, which mansion soon became a scene of festivity. The meeting of the squire with his daughters was ardently affectionate; but his son Marmaduke had nothing of cordiality in his nature. His figure was tall and thin, with loose joints and ill-knit bones, while his countenance indicated both phlegm, and a fidgetty, nervous peevishness. He bore the marks of late anddissipated hours upon his countenance. His face was sallow, and his eyes sunken; he had the unmistakable air andtout ensembleof a rouè and a libertine.
He was by no means prepossessing, whilst his pride and self-sufficiency made him an object of dislike to all who approached him. He scrupled not to say openly that he hated Wales and Welshmen. He condescended, however, to say, that until he could get a clever English servant, in the place of the last, who ran away from him, he must put up with one of the Welsh savages. Accordingly, our hero was appointed to be his temporary valet, and ordered to attend exclusively on the young squire.
With the ladies came their aunt, the squire’s younger sister, a very affected fantastical spinster from Exeter; who gave every fashion its Devonshire latitude in her conformation to it, carrying the mode to an extreme that left London absurdity far in the back-ground. The Misses Graspacre were neither imitators nor very ardent admirers of their aunt, whose silly affectation of excessive delicacy became their standing-point of ridicule, which they put in practice on the evening of their arrival.
The hearty girls wanted something substantial for their supper, after travelling their long journey; but their aunt intimated her desire to have something that would be light upon the stomach. The poet expresses the old lady’s opinion when he wrote in homely phrases:—
Sup on dainty calf-foot jelly,Never sleep with well-filled belly;Sup upon the lightest food,Rice; or anything that’s good.Mind you never eat cold meat!If you’d sleep, that is no treat!The nightmare black you’ll have, be sure!But suppers light are just the cure.
Sup on dainty calf-foot jelly,Never sleep with well-filled belly;Sup upon the lightest food,Rice; or anything that’s good.Mind you never eat cold meat!If you’d sleep, that is no treat!The nightmare black you’ll have, be sure!But suppers light are just the cure.
But great was the aunt’s dismay on finding a duck and green peas brought to the table. She resolved, however, even on this fare, to show her superior Devonshirebreeding; and while the young ladies lifted their peas from their plates to their mouths in half-dozens or more at a time, she, delicate soul, cut every pea in four, and swallowed a quarter at a time!
Another circumstance of note happened at this supper, which, as it relates to our hero, must be told. It seems that during Twm’s disgrace, and consequent absence from the hall, the servants there indulged themselves in making remarks on his conduct, and its probable consequence. This discussion displayed their various dispositions. Some spoke of him with charity, and dwelt upon his rare qualities of good nature and cheerfulness; while others took a malignant pleasure in speaking of his satirical and mischievous propensities. Among the latter was the cook. Twm, on his return, heard of herkindness, and determined to take the first opportunity of showing his sense of the obligations she had laid him under. On the removal of the remains of the duck and its accompaniments, the company having just been helped round with tart or pie, their attention was suddenly arrested by the voice of Twm in the passage, who loudly sung the following distich:—
“Apple pie is very rich,And so is venison pasty;But then our cook has got the itch,And that is very nasty.”
“Apple pie is very rich,And so is venison pasty;But then our cook has got the itch,And that is very nasty.”
Ye gods! what sounds for ears polite! The young ladies laughed immoderately on perceiving the distress of their aunt, who showed a wry-faced consciousness of having partaken food prepared by unclean hands; her countenance underwent various contortions, and she mentally thought of the old proverb about the obligatory rule set down upon each member of humanity, that we must all eat a peck of dirt in our lifetime, but she devoutly hoped that all her share was not to be eaten at one meal. Those awful thoughts had a tragic ending, for they terminated in the grand climax of a shriek and a fit. The squire’s anger was instantly kindled against Twm, probably from an unquenched sparkof his former resentment, which he evinced by telling his son to “give that rascal a good thrashing.”
Proud of his commission, out ran Marmaduke; and finding Twm in the hall, ran up and struck him a blow in the face; but great was the amazement of the servants to see the young man turn upon him like a lion, and with the most dexterous management of his fists overpowering their young master in an instant, whom he left groaning with pain, and covered with bruises, and then made a precipitate retreat.
While walking to Tregaron, it occurred to Twm, that for that night at least, he should be favoured with a lodging by his constant friend, Rhys, the curate. Thither he went, and found the worthy man by the parlour fire, with a book in his hand, and papers before him, busily employed in preparing for the press a new edition of his Welsh Grammar. He was received by him with his usual kindness; and when Twm told him his tale, with the important addition that he must leave his native place for ever, and that immediately, he showed the goodness of his heart by assuring him of a retreat for the present, and a little pecuniary aid on his departure. He however gave him a friendly lecture on the impropriety of his conduct; observing that if he must be satirical, he ought to choose the subject for his lash from the famous among the great and wealthy, and not the puny and defenceless, to attack whom, he said, evinced a paltry and most dastardly spirit; concluding with the pithy injunction, “while you live, whatever your state while on earth, act the generous and manly part; and never, never, either manually, or with the lash of satire, war with the weak.”
These words formed in a great measure the leading rule in Twm’s after life. He never forgot them, and all the more because they came from the lips of one whom he revered and loved; and however reprehensible the after vagaries of Twm’s life may have been, their harsher features were considerably modified by the remembrance of the words, “War not against theweak!” Our hero was heartily pleased with his preceptor, inasmuch, that amidst all his observations and lectures he imputed to him but slight blame for his retaliation on young Graspacre; but when he vowed further vengeance, should he ever meet him alone in the mountains remonstrated with him on the risk he ran, urged the necessity of self-preservation, and advised him not to endanger himself needlessly.
The next morning Rhys assured Twm that he had reflected on the peculiarity of his case, and found it by no means so bad as he had imagined. “As to leaving this place,” said he, “I see no necessity; merely keep out of the way awhile, and in due time make your submissions to the squire; as he is by no means a hard man, I have no doubt but all will speedily be well again.” Twm adopted this idea, though he ill-stomached the thought of submission, or of asking pardon for an act of manliness which he would on a similar case of aggravation repeat.
Thus matters rested for the present; and in the dusk of the evening he crossed the hills towards Cadwgan’s, and soon had the grateful satisfaction of seeing once more his beauteous mistress, sitting by her father before a cheerful fire. Her mild kind face was unusually pale, but brightened on his approach; and when he related his new mishap, and that he thought of immediately quitting the country in consequence, her cheek assumed an ashy paleness, and she nearly fainted in her father’s arms. Cadwgan dissuaded him from the thought of quitting his native place for such a trifle, and advised him by all means to follow up the worthy curate’s suggestion; and when the fair Gwenny repeated her father’s wishes as her own, Twm at once acquiesced, and resolved not to quit.
Thus time passed on pleasantly, for some days, when our hero said he longed exceedingly for a day’s coursing on the neighbouring mountains. Cadwgan remarked that the squire had shown no desire to pursue him, as he had heard at Tregaron and he conceivedthere would be no danger; and so in accordance with his opinion, he lent him his dog and gun, both great favourites, and never before entrusted to any one breathing. He advised him to confine his excursion to a certain remote hill called Twyn Du (Black Hill) which being rugged of ascent and marshy, seldom invited the steps of the sons of pleasure in the character of sportsmen.
Thus with dog and gun, and accoutred with a shot-belt, our hero felt himself another and superior being to what he had ever been before, especially as Gwenny assured him that the sportsman’s paraphernalia became him exceedingly. He shook Cadwgan’s hand, kissed the lips of his fair mistress, and gallantly sallied forth. Having gone a few yards, he turned his face back to assure them, that he should return and well loaded with game.
Twm enjoyed himself thoroughly. There was a complete sense of freedom and independence in his sport which more than pleased him; with light heart, cool head, and steady aim, he brought down bird after bird, filling his bag, and carolling old Welsh airs the while. He had been on Twyn Du about an hour and a half, and in that time had killed several birds, when the report of his gun attracted others to the spot. He could hear several persons on the hill contiguous, and saw one well mounted, descending into the deep dingle that, like a gulf, yawned between the two hills, and making his way up the steep side of Twyn Du.
He now felt a presentiment that this visit portended him no good; but scorning an ignominious flight, he carelessly paced the brow of the hill till the sportsman approached, when, to his great amazement, who should present himself before him but his inveterate foe, Marmaduke Graspacre. He approached Twm with the fury of a demoniac, asking how he dared fire a gun on those grounds, and after a few harsh words of abuse, which our hero returned with interest, he took an aim at Cadwgan’s pointer, and instantly shot him on the spot.
This butcherly, cowardly act, aroused the indignation of our hero. He felt his Welsh blood course madly through his veins. The thought too, that this was Cadwgan’s dog, his favourite pointer, the animal petted and nursed by his own sweet Gwenny, drove Twm furious, and he was further aggravated by the young squire demanding his gun, and laughing the while at his distress and rage. The youth was not formed of stuff so tame as to endure his insolent triumph. Snatching up his loaded gun with desperate rapidity, he in a moment lodged the contents in the head of the squire’s fine hunter, on which his enemy sat taunting him. No sooner had Marmaduke reached the ground, disengaged himself from his fallen horse, and stood up, than Twm flew at him, and disregarding his threats, with his dexterous fists inflicted the most perfect chastisement; leaving him in a far worse predicament than after their first encounter.
By this time the men who attended the young squire, hearing the report of the guns, and fearing that their young master had fallen in with poachers, made best of their way down across the dingle, and up the sides of Twyn Du.
Roused by their shouts, Twm left his vanquished foe groaning on the ground by the side of the dead hunter, and darting down the opposite side he made a safe retreat. This was an adventure which constituted the turning point of our hero’s life. The magnitude of the consequences it involved, he scarcely dreamt of at that moment.
Twmis “wanted.” Hides himself in a wood. Love takes him to Cadwgan’s house, where he is welcomed. Parson Evans acting as “detector.” Twm escapes in the disguise of a female. Affectionate parting with the farmer and Gwenny.
No sooner was Marmaduke Graspacre taken home, and the affair made known by him to his father, with some little exaggeration against the assailant, such as the trifling mis-statement that the blows inflicted on him were by the butt-end of the fowling-piece, instead of the fist, than the squire’s indignation was roused.
“As this is not the first offence, and my forbearance has encouraged his atrocious conduct, I am now determined to make an example of him,” said he, and immediately sent a servant for Parson Evans, who, in the capacity of magistrate, was ordered to take cognizance of the affair, and send constables in all directions to arrest the culprit. This was an office that well accorded with this malignant man; he had not the generosity enough to forget and forgive the follies of youth; and had a bloodhound been set upon Twm’s track, he would not have scented him out with more pleasure than Parson Evans.
The hue and cry instantly was raised and spread abroad, and excited as great a commotion throughout the country as if a convicted murderer were chased through the land. All Twm’s haunts were searched, especially his mother’s and farmer Cadwgan’s; in each of which places there was heaviness and wailing for his misfortunes; and Parson Evans, who went there in person, took care to assure them, that when caught, all the world could not save him from the gallows, as he had attempted to murder the young squire of Graspacre-Hall.
But with all the vigilance of his enemies, Twm’s retreat remained undiscovered and those who werefriendly disposed towards him began to wonder among themselves what had become of him. Some thought that, in a fit of despondency, he had drowned himself; and others, that he had escaped into the neighbouring counties of Pembroke, Carmarthen, or Brecon; or that he had shipped himself in some vessel at Aberayon, or Aberystwyth, and got off in safety. The constables, however, had visited each of these places, and at length returned without any further intelligence than that their journey had been in vain.
While the search was most hot, our hero concealed himself in a small patch of marshy underwood, a spot on which the keen eye of suspicion never glanced, his pursuers having passed the edge of it many times without a thought occurring of seeking him there. In this retreat he fed himself on nuts and blackberries, and in the night roved about for recreation, but returned to his green-wood shelter before day-light. Even here, Twm’s love of mischief was as prominent as ever.
One night, while the moon gave a good light, he found a large deep hole, close by his retreat. Knowing that his pursuers would very probably pass that way shortly, he covered over the opening with sticks and a thin layer of earth and leaves. Presently came Parson Evans, who had separated himself from the rest of the searchers, and coming to the trap, immediately sunk over-head, to the depth of twelve feet, giving a wild and very unparsonic yell as he descended. He bawled loudly for help, but Twm bounded from his retreat, and shouting down the hole, “Ha! ha! Evans the fox is trapped at last,” made best of his way to another part of the forest.
His concealment and life in the woods continued four days, when, exceedingly tired of his solitude, he one midnight ventured to Cadwgan’s door, and both surprised and gratified the farmer and his kinder daughter, when they heard the lost one’s voice once more. They rose and let him in immediately, made a fire, gave every necessary refreshment, and then persuaded him to go to bed.
Twm remained hidden here a week, when suspicion fixed upon Cadwgan’s house, although searched before, as the probable place of concealment. One day, Gwenny ran in a fright to tell her father to conceal Twm immediately, as the constables, headed by Parson Evans, were coming. Twm started up and said, “Bolt the door for ten minutes, and I shall be safe.” Gwenny replied that they could not be there in that time, as they were then descending the opposite side of the Cwm, which was three long fields off, and that they approached slowly, with fox-like cunning, so as to excite no suspicion of their purpose.
With that, at Twm’s request, they both went up stairs with him, for a purpose which he said he was there to explain to them, as neither of them could conceive in what manner he was going to preserve himself. They all remained above ’till the loud summons of authority, in the raven voice of old Evans, brought Cadwgan down, when the cleric magistrate told him, in no gentle terms, that there was a suspicion attached to his house, as the place where the young villain, Twm Shon Catty, was concealed.
The farmer replied, “I must say this is very hard usage, as I have no one with me but my daughter and my eldest sister, who has come on a few weeks’ visit; but, as you are come, you may search in welcome.” After a brief scrutiny below, they all went up stairs, where sat, busily employed at their needles, the fair Gwenny Cadwgan and the ingenious Twm Shon Catty, excellently disguised in the dress of Cadwgan’s late wife; which having been the property of a tall women fitted him very well. His face was slightly coloured with the juice of blackberries; beneath his chin was pinned a dowdyish cap, which in the scant light of a small window, by the aid of a pair of spectacles he appeared a complete old granny.
On the entrance of these amiable visitors, he turned his full spectacled face on Parson Evans, muttering, in the tone of an old woman, which he mimicked well, “lack a day! lack a day! this is sad usage;”then whispered Gwenny, who took the hint, and, while they were searching, laid some hog’s lard on different parts of the stairs, so that, on their descent, the precious party, with their rascally leader, slipped and fell headlong down from top to bottom, to the great amusement of those above. On being charged with this contrivance, each denied all knowledge of, and the quick witted Gwenny accounted for the cause of their accident by saying that they had been carrying butter and lard to the store, up stairs, the whole morning.
In addition to this, Twm emptied the contents of a certain piece of crockery upon the devoted heads of the searchers, just as they emerged from the doorway, and when he discovered the splutterings and surprise manifested by the parson, shouted down from the upper window, “Dear! dear! I thought you lazy folk would be half a mile from the house before now. Well well! ye’ll get a washing for nothing.” The parson muttered something very like a curse, while the constables “d—d” the old woman unceremoniously.
They were no sooner gone than Twm assured Cadwgan that he saw there was no safety for him except in flight, which must take place that very night. His plan, he said, was matured, that he had no fear but he should do well, and that his only regret was in parting with them. He purposed, he said, to make his way towards Carmarthenshire, or perhaps farther and seek employment among the farmers; or, what was more agreeable to him, he might, perhaps, get to some village where he could set up a school; so that after saving a sum of money to begin life with, he should return and make Gwenny his wife. With tearful eyes Cadwgan expressed his admiration of his plan, while poor Gwenny wept herself almost into fits, at the thought of his perils, and sudden departure.
“At any rate, my boy, thou shalt not go penniless to wander the wide world,” said Cadwgan, and put an old pocket-book, containing several angels, and near twenty shillings in silver, which Twm reluctantly took,promising its return doubly when fortune favoured him. “I have two favours more to ask,” said he; “the first is, that you will make the best of my affair when you tell my poor mother and the worthy Mr. Rhys of my flight, and my future plans in life; and my next request is, that you will give me this old woman’s dress, with the red cloak belonging to it, as it will answer for a disguise should I be troubled before I get far enough off.” Cadwgan kindly acquiesced, though he smiled at the latter whimsical fancy. At length, thus attired to avoid observation, with his own clothes in a bundle, he took an affecting leave of them, and made a hasty departure from their friendly door.
Twmrisks another visit to Tregaron. Alarms his friend Watt. Danger of betrayal by him. His cunning is more than a match for Watt, Parson Evans, and his wife. Escapes, and with a good booty. Disappearance of the Parson’s horse, great coat, and cash.
It was a dull heavy night, in which fog and darkness contended for precedence, and the moon gleamed as if about to retire altogether, when Twm Shon Catty shaped his course over the mountain, in the direction which led to Lampeter; he looked instinctively towards his dear native town, which a fashionable tourist would perhaps have called the most wretched village in the universe; but, to him, it was full of sweet associations, and recollections the most agreeable; the scene of his childhood, the home of his mother:
Dear to all their natal spot,Although ’twere Nature’s foulest blot;For, wherever we may roam,There’s ne’er a place like Home, sweet Home.
Dear to all their natal spot,Although ’twere Nature’s foulest blot;For, wherever we may roam,There’s ne’er a place like Home, sweet Home.
He stopped, and looked wistfully towards Tregaron;the lights were glistening in their various humble casements, and he fancied that among them all he could distinguish his mother’s—his kind fond mother’s—whom, perhaps, he was never to see again,—and now he recollected many instances of her tenderness, which had long slumbered in his recollection. His eyes filled with tears, and the softness of his heart was put at once into mournful harmony.
A sudden thought, no less eccentric than daring, now took him, that thus disguised, he might safely pass through Tregaron, and perhaps see his mother before his departure. This idea was no sooner started than acted upon; and, before an hour had expired, he found himself once more in the long and almost only street in Tregaron. He met two or three old women whom he knew well, but there was no recognition on their part, only a long, vacant stare of astonishment, no doubt wondering who the stranger could be, venturing into Tregaron at that late hour. His mother’s door was closed for the night, and he durst not call to her, as Jack was not to be trusted. He moved on, looking earnestly to every door. The whole street seemed still as death, except that various snores, here and there, reminded Twm of the sweet sleep enjoyed by others though denied to him; while the stray villagers whom he had met were busy locking their doors, or barring them with the wooden sash.
He sauntered slowly along, meditating on the circumstance that made him afraid to face those who knew him, till opposite to the cottage of his old companion and elder brother in mischief, Watt the mole-catcher. Watt had long lived with a widowed mother, who had recently died, and now sojourned alone in her solitary hut; it was even reported that he had forsaken all his wicked ways, grown serious, and was consequently likely to do well. It occurred to Twm that he had often heard Watt deny the existence of ghosts and hobgoblins, and vaunt that nothing of that description could in the least frighten him; and now, thought Twm, I’ll put his courage to the trial.
Peeping through the casement, he saw Watt in bed, at the farther end of the cottage, and the fire burning through the peat heaped up to preserve it for the night, so that the white walls within were brightened by the gleams cast on them from the hearth. Softly lifting the latch, he opened the door, entered, and, walking quietly towards the hearth, sat on the three-legged stool, took up the old snoutless bellows, and began blowing the fire with all his might. Watt awoke in extreme terror, and seeing the figure of a tall woman in the chimney corner, deeming it no other than his mother’s spirit, his fright increased.
Trembling and almost dissolved in perspiration, he at last burst out into a roar of “Lord have mercy on me! oh, mother’s dear spirit, pity me!” Twm laughed out, and ran to his bed-side to stop his roaring cries, exclaiming, “Silence, man, ’tis I, Twm, your old friend, Twm Shon Catty.” Watt slowly awoke to the consciousness that his theory did not stand the test of practice, and that this had been proven by one who had often heard him vaunting as to his fearlessness of the supernatural.
Convinced of his identity, and having heard our hero’s story, he said, “’Twere better you were at the bottom of a river, Twm, than here, for I have been compelled, by Parson Evans, to make an oath that if you came here, I would immediately either send or run myself to inform him of your arrival; and I can’t break, an oath, Twm, for anybody.”
“I did not think,” said our hero coolly, “that you, who have broken so many laws, would scruple much about breaking a forced oath; but old companionship pleads weakly, opposed to the reward that will be given for my apprehension; I thought, though the whole town were to turn against me that you, Watt would have been my friend, for you have led me into many troubles, and I never laid a jot of blame to your charge, but took all to myself, and have often suffered on your account.”
Watt, who by this time had nearly dressed himself, was much affected by this appeal, and said, “No, Twm, I will never betray you, but, if I were known in the least to favour you it would ruin all my hopes of success in life. I am, next week, to be married to Betsy Gwevelheer,[140]Parson Evan’s maid that I have courted these ten years; and the parson has promised to do great things at the bidding: and more than that, I am to be the parish clerk and grave-digger when old Morgan Meredith dies, and he can’t live long, as I have made him a present of a good church-yard cough, by breaking a hole in the thatch over his bed, by which he has gained a great hoarseness, and nearly lost his voice; so that I expect to be called in to officiate for him next Sunday.”
“I see you are still my friend,” said Twm, who had been lost in a reverie during part of Watt’s remarks, “and I give you joy of your fair prospects, which I would not destroy on any account; you shall serve me, and, at the same time keep your oath. You know my talent at mimicry, and see how well this dress becomes me; aye, I become the dress equally as you shall see. Had I not already disclosed myself, I could have discoursed to you a whole hour at mid-day, fearless of a discovery; but let us see how this cloak becomes you, Watt.” With that he took off the cloak and put it on Watt, and, after a little jesting on the subject, Twm suddenly exclaimed, “Only sit down here with the cloak on your shoulders for ten minutes, while I step out, and, with the assistance of my bundle, I will astonish you with my transformation.”
All this was uttered with the gay rapidity of an anticipated freak, and Watt taken by surprise, immediately acquiesced, without knowing what he was about. Twm ran immediately to the Rectory House, and making a great clatter, roused Parson Evans, who opened the window and asked what was the matter; when, assuming Watt’s voice, he said hastily, “Mister Evans! Mister Evans! Twm Shon Catty is now in my cottage,dressed in a cloak, and sitting at the fire. You had best be quick and secure him. He wanted me not to betray him, but I could not break my oath, you know; so pray you, Parson, make haste if you would have your desire.”
Delighted with this intelligence, Evans awakened the whole house, especially two strapping fellows, whom he called his bull-dogs, sometimes employing them as husbandry servants, at others, on account of their large size, and muscular power, as constables. Both these fellows were first sent to saddle his horse, in case he should have to take Twm to Cardigan gaol,—and then to attend him to Watt’s cottage, where the trio soon went.
Peeping through the casement, Evans discovered a tall figure wrapped in a cloak, as described. “There he is sure enough,” quoth he in a whisper; “now get your cords ready for binding his hands, and stay here till I call you in; be sure that you watch the door well.” With that he lifted the latch and went in. Watt, who, in the interim of our hero’s absence, had made up a good fire, now stood up, and, as he saw the clerical magistrate before him, exclaimed, “Well done, Twm, my boy! I now give you credit; well, well, well, this is indeed strange; a wonderful disguise; you look the old rascal to the life; if you had not told me before-hand of your intended transformation, I could have sworn you were old Evans himself; you look now just as he did when he promised to make me parish clerk.”
Evans remained petrified with astonishment till the last words were uttered, when he replied, “Parish devil! you infernal scoundrel, have you roused me out of my bed at midnight to hoax and insult me in this manner? but you shall dearly repent your insolence.”
Watt stared with wonder, and replied, “Well, well, well! I never did hear such a thing in my life; you have just the old villain’s voice and swaggering way; I wish I may die if you don’t so frighten me; and Icould almost swear the spiteful old Evans himself stood before me; hang him, I hate his very looks, and I am only holding a candle to the devil, in hopes of the parish clerkship, by seeming so civil to him.” Evans thought him certainly either mad or drunk; and without any further explanation, he called the two men in, and ordered them to secure him. The light at length broke in on Watt’s mind; Twm’s trick on him, and the real state of the case appeared; and he struggled hard before the fellows could secure him.
At length he cleared up his confused and chagrined countenance, and said, in an undaunted tone, “Well, well, well, I see the worst; farewell to mole-catching; farewell to parish-clerkship, and Bessy Gwevelheer; and you, you evil-minded old scourge, may bid farewell to all hopes of having me to father your brat, of which your maid Bessy is big. I will make the country ring with the stories of your rascalities if you dare to send me to the round house; but if you liberate me at once, I shall leave Tregaron for ever, in the course of a few days, and go abroad, to see the world and seek my fortune.”
To the great surprise of the men, and, perhaps, of Watt himself, Evans seemed cowed by his threats, and, after a little show of parleying, gave him that freedom of which he had no right to deprive him. Leaving him alone in his cottage, he shuffled home, accompanied by his worthless followers.
While Watt’s cottage became the theatre of the above-described scene, Twm Shon Catty had a performance of his own elsewhere—a dance if you will—to which the same reverend gentleman was doomed to pay the piper. Having watched the party to Watt’s door, Twm hastened to the parson’s, calling loudly in the assumed voice of one of the fellows who accompanied, “Mistress Evans! Mistress Evans! make haste and send master his pocket-book with his money, immediately; Twm Shon Catty is taken, and we are going off with him to Cardigan gaol.”
Mrs. Evans sleeping in a front room, heard himinstantly, and with unusual alacrity jumped off bed; she soon threw down the pocket-book, which was caught by Twm, and asked him, “Doesn’t he want his weather-proof great coat also?” Our hero replied, “Yes, but, dear me, I did forget that,” and immediately received the great coat likewise. Mrs. Evans wishing them safe home from Cardigan, shut the window. The saddled horse was already at the gate, and Twm, well coated and cashed, instantly mounted and rode off, glorying in his triumph over his old rancorous enemy. “Here,” thought Twm, “is tangible revenge for all the trouble and persecution this reverend gentleman has brought upon me.” A full pocket-book, a good horse, and a warm great coat, after all, were not bad equivalents for Twm’s injuries. Some philosophers might consider that outraged feelings could not be solaced in this way. But in Twm’s case, at any rate, they were mistaken.