Ancient manners are less obliterated by time and the varying modes of life in North Wales, than in most of the other provinces of Britain. In this age of communication and intelligence, few will be credulously eager to imagine that the inhabitants of any one part of our island are materially distinguished in their characters from those of another: yet none can immerge themselves in this romantic country, without being struck by the superior modesty and simplicity of its inhabitants. Removed from active scenes of commercial life, and from corrupting examples of selfish splendour, their minds seem sufficiently occupied in the limited transactions of their own little world, without experiencing interruption from any envious feeling at the triumphs of the greater or more wealthy. It is from the peasantry, the national character of an agricultural district is naturally to be deduced; and those of Cambria undoubtedly present an illustration of the happiest description. The poverty of the soil, scantiness of population, and great distance from populous towns, render Wales a residence unsuited to the agricultural capitalist. The land is subdivided into small portions, and amongst a considerable number of yeomen. Hence it arises, that the children of poverty are not frowned on by contempt, and the humbler classes do not acquire those envious and disreputable habits, by which, in other countries, they are too often tempted to resist the ostentations of the rich. Their manners are obliging without servility, and plain without rusticity; their familiarity springs from kindness, not from disrespect; and they exhibit an independence the more to be admired in proportion to its obviously natural growth.

Our earliest annals inform us that the Cambrians “were a people light and active, and more fierce than strong:” all classes, from the prince to the peasant, were devoted to arms, and prepared to give a ready service at the first summons of the trumpet. Their military spirit was unconfined, and love of their country boundless. The profession of arms was held in so much estimation, that to die in one’s bed was deemed disgraceful, and the field of battle held to be the only honourable grave.

“Without a sign, his sword the brave man draws,
And asks no omen but his country’s cause.”

Iliad xii.

Their armour consisted of a short coat of mail, a light shield, and iron greaves: sometimes only of those desiring to be free from all unnecessary incumbrances in accomplishing forced marches through trackless deserts. Their only defensive weapons were the sword, the spear, and the arrow. Their bows were sometimes formed of interwoven twigs, and though of slight materials, and rude workmanship, when bent by a sinewy arm dealt a deadly wound. The men of North Wales were more dexterous in the management of the spear, with which they pierced the closest iron mail: their brethren of South Wales more conspicuous for their great skill in archery.

The dress in time of peace was simple and uncostly. The men wore a woollen garment or cota around the body, kept their hair cut short over the ears and eyes, and rounded every where so as not to obstruct their agile movements in the woods and thickets. It is not improbable that they retained a thick covering of hair on the top of the head, like the glibe of the ancient Irish, as a protection against weather. The beard was shaven off, a mustachio on the upper lip only being preserved. The women wore a turban folded round the head, and rising in a coronul or tuft. Both sexes paid little respect to the protection of the feet, being seldom supplied with slippers or buskins, the men only in the field of battle. The shoes, worn on these occasions were made of the dried skins of animals of the chase, with the hair turned inward, and subsequently of half-tanned leather, attached to the foot by a thong or latchet of the same material, after the manner of a sandal. Both sexes are represented as paying a singular regard to the beauty and whiteness of their teeth, which they cleaned by the application of the leaves and bark of the hazel, and afterwards rubbed with a woollen cloth.

Many of these customs belong to the military character of the ancient inhabitants, and disappeared with the extinction of the feudal system; white others may still be distinctly traced in the existing state of society. The flannel cota (crys gwlanen) is worn by miners during working hours, and by the peasantry of the high districts in the rainy seasons. The females retain the ancient cap, which they now surmount with a hat, in a manner both pleasing and peculiar. Their principal garment consists of a short bed-gown, fastened round the waist with a girdle, in a smart and rather graceful style; and their stockings are after the olden fashion, that is, without feet, and held down by a loop that passes round one of the toes; these however are only worn on working days; entire hose of excellent manufacture succeed them upon holidays and occasions of dress. The tout ensemble of a Welsh peasant girl, while it conveys an idea of primitiveness, and appears wisely calculated to resist a cold and fickle climate, is neat, pleasing, and picturesque, resembling much the costume of the female peasants of the Tyrol.

Hospitality has always been classed amongst the characteristics of an ancient Briton, and its genius is acknowledged to hold uninterrupted possession to the present day. Here young Fleance found a secure asylum from the murderous designs of the usurper Macbeth, and here his son, born of a Cambrian princess, dwelt, until a desire to visit the land of his fathers led him to the Scottish court, where he attained the highest tank, and became the ancestor of the royal line of Stuart.

The Earl of Richmond (afterwards Henry the Seventh) found a chair at every festive board, and a couch in every hall in Wales, while he was a wanderer, and a fugitive; nor did these kindnesses originate in any inordinate prospect of honour or of gain, most of the gentlemen from Wales, who subsequently fought under his banner, having declined the grateful monarch’s offers of reward. This domestic virtue is still fondly cherished here, and practised with all its pristine beauty. There is less peculiarity in the mode of living than in other circumstances connected with the national character. The peasant seldom partakes of animal food, cattle being reared for the landlord’s benefit exclusively. Oaten bread, milk, cheese, cords, and butter constitute the principal diet of the working classes.

The ancient Welsh castles have been spoken of elsewhere, and a few mansions of the days gone by described; it remains still to say something of the cottages of the humble. Less architectural externally than those in England, but superior to the hut of the Irish labourer, the cottages of the poor are inferior to none in internal neatness and comfort. They are supplied with a variety of furniture, amongst which a clock, oak dresser, and settle (settee), or pannelled sofa, are always to be found. The spinning wheel has disappeared since the introduction of machinery into the little woollen factories erected on the rills amidst the mountains; and the brass pan for brewing “cwrw ddÂ,” presents its broad bright disk beneath the dresser of every respectable farm-house.

The Welsh are remarkable for an extreme sagacity, shrewdness, and cunning in their little commercial transactions. They actually estimate genius by the number of successful efforts to overreach, and esteem the individual who exhibits the greatest dexterity in this way, to be what the world usually term “a man of ability.” This property does not extend to the middle or higher classes, who are no longer distinguished from the inhabitants of the adjacent counties by any peculiarity, but is a quality usually belonging to the peasantry of all remote and separated societies. In the early ages of Welsh history many singular instances occurred of the quick and acute repartee of chieftains, and distinguished men, both in the camp and at the court.

At the battle of Agincourt Dafydd Gam, the brother-in-law of Owen Glandwr, was despatched by King Henry to reconnoitre and ascertain the probable number of the enemy previous to the action. Upon his return, the king inquired whether these were not so many? “Sire,” replied Gam, “there are enough to kill, enough to be taken prisoners, and enough to run away.” The graceful rejection of a peerage (an honour recently conferred upon his descendants), by the loyal ancestor of the house of Mostyn, the reader will find introduced in the description of the venerable hall of that ancient family. There is yet another brave Cambrian, whose humour and intrepidity in the eleventh hour, saved his life. Sir John Owen, of Cleneny, together with the Lords Goring, Loughborough, Capel, and Holland, being condemned to exile by the parliament, were shut up at first in Windsor Castle; but, after the execution of their royal master, sanguinary measures were resolved upon. Holland, Capel, Goring, and Sir John being again put upon their trial, the brave loyalist evinced a courage worthy of his country. He told his judges “that he was a plain gentleman of Wales, who had been always taught to obey the king; that he had served him honestly during the war, and finding many honest men endeavour to raise forces, whereby they might get him out of prison, he did the like;” and concluded by signifying “that he did not care much what they resolved concerning him.” Ultimately he was condemned to lose his head: for which, with much humour and singular boldness, he made the court a low reverence, and gave it his humble thanks. Being asked the meaning of such acknowledgement, he replied, in a loud voice, “that he considered it a great honour to a poor gentleman in Wales to loss his head in company with such noble lords; for,” said he, with an oath, “I was afraid they would have hanged me.” This extraordinary and dauntless reply procured for the brave loyalist the continuance of his head in its original position, until it reclined on its last pillow in an honourable old age; for, Ireton forthwith became his advocate with the parliament, saying, “that there was one person for whom no one spoke a word; and therefore requested that he might be saved by the sole motive and goodness of the house.” Mercy was, in consequence, extended to him, and after a few months imprisonment, he was restored to that liberty of which he had proved himself so deserving.

Cambrensis represents his countrymen as persons of acute and subtle genius. In every species of litigation they exerted all their powers of rhetoric, and in these their talents for invention were conspicuously displayed. This spirit is still too widely diffused through the principality, it unhappily calls the worst feelings into operation, and opens a door to vice, at which some are found unblushingly to enter. But the Roman character is not to be impeached because the nation produced a Catiline, his fellows are to be found in every clime. The same historian, who regrets the consequences of a litigious disposition, adds, that “as there were not any baser than the worst of his countrymen, so neither were there any better than the best.”

The genius of the Welsh was at an early period directed into a rational channel. The most eminent for natural ability were induced to adopt the profession of bard or poetic historian, and this order of men exercised an influence over the destinies of the nation for many ages. Their talents were employed in preserving the genealogies of illustrious families, celebrating the praises of heroes, and recording remarkable and glorious events.

The institution of bardism is coeval with the origin of poetry. The Greek, Roman, and Celtic nations had their poets and troubadours, and the Scandinavians imported into Europe a species of bard called Scalds, or polishers of language. These were held in the highest estimation in all countries: they received liberal rewards for their poetic compositions, attended the festivals of heroic chieftains, accompanied them to the field of battle, and sang their victorious praises, or mourned over their untimely fall. The British bards were originally a constitutional appendage of the Druidical hierarchy, and upon the extinction of that detestable worship, were preserved, in a new and civil form, from the love of poetry and music then prevailing; predilections increased, probably, by an intercourse with the Scandinavian scalds.

Welsh poetry abounds in alliteration, which is also a characteristic of Icelandic song, and obviously insinuates a northern origin. The person of a bard was held sacred, and the laws of Howel Dda enacted, “that whoever even slightly injured a bard was to pay an eric or fine of six cows, and one hundred and twenty pence. The murderer of a bard was to pay one hundred and twenty-six cows.” These bardic laws resembled those relating to a similar class of persons in Ireland, where it was deemed an act of sacrilege to seize on the estate of a bard, even for the public service, and in times of national distress. The officers of the royal household, both in Wales and Ireland, at this period, consisted of a bard, musician, smith, physician, and huntsman. To an intercourse with the Irish nation is traceable the introduction of the harp into Cambria. The Welsh, so late as in the eleventh century, were accustomed to pass over into that kingdom, and there receive instruction in the bardic profession. Gryffydd ap Cynan, king of Wales, in 1078, “brought over from Ireland divers cunning musicians into Wales, from whom is derived in a manner all the instrumental music that is now there used; as appeareth as well by the bookes written of the same, as also by the names of the tunes and measures used among them to this daie.”

An election of bards took place annually, at an assembly of the princes and chieftains of the nation. Precedence, emolument, and honours, suitable to their respective merits were then assigned to each. The most meritorious was solemnly crowned on the Bardic throne, and presented, as a token of his preeminent genius, with a silver chair. This congress was usually held at one of the three royal residences of the princes of Wales, the sovereign himself presiding on the occasion.

Upon the introduction of the harp, Gryffydd determined to restrain the inordinate vanity of the bards, and to remodel the order. He enacted laws for their future government, the severity of which is a sufficient indication of the necessity of their institution. Amongst the penalties was one of much apparent hardship,—“If a minstrel offended in any of the recited instances, ‘every man’ was appointed an officer of justice, in such case, with liberty to arrest and inflict discretional punishment, and authority to seize upon whatever property the offender had about his person.” Under these regulations, and the auspices of an enlightened prince, respect for the order was reestablished, and eminent minstrels again flourished both in North and South Wales.

In the year 1176 the merits and genius of the bards of North and South Wales were displayed in the Hall of Rhys ap Gryffydd, a prince of South Wales, at the castle of Aberteivi. This hospitable lord held a Christmas revel here in this year, to which he invited some hundred persons, including the Norman and Saxon nobility. These he entertained with much honour and courtesy, and amused by feats of arms, field sports, and other diversions suited to the magnificence of the occasion. To these was added a contest between the bards from all parts of ancient Britain. The guests being assembled in the great Hall, and the bards being introduced, the prince directed them to give proof of their skill by answering each other in extemporaneous rhythmic effusions, proposing rich rewards to such as should be adjudged deserving of them by the noble assemblage of judges. In this contest the bards of North Wales obtained the victory, with the applause of all: and amongst the harpers or musicians, between whom a similar contention took place, the prince’s own retainers were acknowledged the most skilful.

The fascinating occupations of bard and minstrel continued in the highest admiration with their countrymen, soothing their wild spirit in days of peace, and awaking their ardour in moments of danger. One of the wisest of the ancient Greeks thought that poetry effeminated the state, and advised the expulsion of its votaries; King Edward on the other hand believed that it aroused and inspired a love of liberty, and adopted, in consequence, the cruel policy of cutting off its professors. The tradition current in Wales is that he ordered every bard who fell into his power to be immediately assassinated, an event, whether true or false, now immortalized in the exquisite ode by Gray commencing with these bold Pindaric lines:

“Ruin seize thee, ruthless king,
Confusion on thy banners wait.”

Whether the bards were actually assassinated in this cold blooded manner, or only suppressed with circumstances of aggravated cruelty, the order appears to have been totally dissolved, and the muse of Cambria to have taken shelter in the mountain caves for ages subsequent. During the successful insurrection of Glandwr poetry once more descended from the hills and basked in the few sunny rays that for a short while beamed upon freedom. Amongst the minstrels who sang in the halls of Glandurdwy was Iolo GÔch, who celebrated in lofty strains the prudence and patriotism of his master. The storm that excited a martial spirit in the followers of the houses of York and Lancaster, laid the genius of Cambrian poetry. If at any time its voice was heard, it was either in sorrow at the miseries of the present, or in obscure prophecy of what was yet to come.

The reign of Henry the Seventh, as might naturally have been expected, was one of brighter hopes and more unrestricted freedom, than any Wales had witnessed since the extinction of her native princes. A new description of bard now arose, less venerated, less connected with that mysterious origin to which their predecessors were referred, and undistinguished, except by their effusions, from other classes of society. Of this new class of minstrels, the days of chivalry over, the chief duties were to celebrate the hospitality and private virtues of their patrons, in whose halls they were maintained, and upon whose decease it became their melancholy task to compose a funeral song, to be recited in the presence of the surviving relatives by a Datceiniad.

Regular bardic assemblies, convened by royal authority, were discontinued after the reign of Elizabeth. This illustrious queen issued a precept for holding a royal Eisteddfod on the 26th May, 1568. The document is still preserved in the family of Mostyn, whose ancestors are named therein, with other gentlemen of rank and property in the principality. The objects of such meetings, as well as the distinctive character attached to the bardic order, may be easily collected from the following passage extracted from the royal commission.

“Whereas it is come to the knowledge of the Lorde president and other our counsell in the Marches of Wales, that vagrant and idle persons naming themselves minstrels, rithmirs, and barthes, are lately grown to such an intolerable multitude within the Principality of North Wales, that not only gentlemen and others, by their shameless disorders, are oftentimes disquieted in their habitations, but also the expert minstrels and musicians in town and country thereby much discouraged to travail in the exercise and practise of their knowledge; and also not a little hindered in their living and preferments,” &c. At the assemblage called by direction of this precept seventeen poetical bards were present and thirty-eight of their musical brethren; William Llyn was admitted to the degree of Pencerdd or doctor, and three others to the rank of masters of the art of poetry. The prize was awarded to Sion ap William ap Sion. Caerwys, in Flintshire, was the place chosen for the celebration of Eisteddfodau in later years, having once been the royal residence of Llewellyn, but the more ancient bardic assemblies were convened at Aberffraw, in the palace of the princes of Gwynedd; Dinefawr, the noble castle of the lords of South Wales; and Mathrafel, the royal palace of the chiefs of Powisland.

There is reason to believe, that an Eisteddfod was also held between the years 1569 and 1580, but the place of assemblage and other circumstances respecting it are unknown. In South Wales, however, meetings of this description continued to be called under the auspices of the Earl of Pembroke and Sir Richard Neville, to which must be added the most memorable of all at Bewpyr Castle, A.D. 1681, under the patronage of Sir Richard Bassett.

From these last mentioned dates poetry, music, and every species of Cambrian literature hastened rapidly to decay, nor were any efforts made to arrest their decline, and re-string the lyre, until the year 1771. At this period societies were formed in London for the restoration of the Welsh language to its former purity, and the encouragement of Welsh literature generally. The Gwyneddigion society extend their patronage to the inhabitants of North Wales. The Cymrodorion to Powys, and those of Dyffed and Gwent to South Wales. Under this national patronage Eisteddfodau were again restored on the 18th of July, 1819, at Caermarthen, when the Bishop of St. David’s presided. In the following year a meeting was held at Wrexham under the presidency of Sir W. W. Wynne, and bardic festivals and literary contests were held at the respective places of assemblage of the other societies. These meetings, however, are inferior in splendour of attractions and public interest to the triennial assemblies now permanently established in the principality. The first of these was held at Brecon in 1826, Lord Rodney president; the second at Denbigh in the year 1828, where Sir B. Mostyn, Bart. presided, and the third at Beaumaris in 1832, under the auspices of Sir R. B. W. Bulkley, Bart.

The religion of North Wales is that of the established church, but the inhabitants manifest a remarkable independence in this respect as well as in many other, and pursue those views of religious subjects which each one’s conscience dictates. The parish church is not deserted, but a chapel, built by contributors of the humblest class, is found in every hamlet, and the quick succession of itinerant preachers appears to attract a more lively attention to the solemn warnings of the pulpit, than the instruction of any one pastor urged with ever so much ability and zeal. The dissenters are divided into many classes, Methodists and Calvinists are the most numerous; amongst the others the sect called “Jumpers,” whose peculiar tenets had once too strong a hold on the feelings of the people, have decreased in numbers, and abandoned those wild speculations which the rational portion of society are still incredulous as to their ever having practised. Laying aside the consideration of sects, all classes of the Welsh are deeply imbued with a religious feeling. Churches and meeting-houses are well attended; every adult can read his bible in the native tongue, and when a public place of worship is either wholly wanting, or too remote, prayer meetings are held with regularity in each other’s cottages, where, after the solemn reading of the liturgy, the little congregation conclude their act of adoration with a sacred hymn to God, in which all present, both old and young, unite their voices.

It is a matter of some surprise that a people of so much sincerity in religion should still be slaves to superstition. But probably the solitude and silence of the glens they dwell in contribute to increase a feeling which is uniformly found diffused through all remote and mountainous countries. Amongst the most interesting of these relics of ancient times, connected with religion is the remarkable care and attention paid to the grave-stones and funeral honours of their deceased connexions. The cemetery is the public walk of every hamlet, and the affection borne to a brother when living seems to render even a bright verdure on his grave a grateful prospect. In the custom of strewing the graves of departed friends with flowers and evergreens these is something which touches the feeling heart. It is a tribute of affection, a posthumous recollection of a most impressive character. To live in the remembrance of those we loved “when we go hence, and are no more seen,” is a natural wish; a wish implanted in our souls by that Being, who willed that we should be social creatures, and gave us all the kind affections of our nature. This custom boasts a high antiquity, it is found among the superstitions of pagan Rome, where, during the month of February; the feralia or honours paid to the manes of departed souls were performed. Scattering of flowers and odoriferous plants constituted a chief part of the ceremony. The custom is now confined to a few parts of Europe, Ireland, Wales, and the Catholic cantons of Switzerland. In the last of these an iron cross is placed upright, from which a bowl, containing holy water, is suspended, with which the passers-by sprinkle the graves of the deceased on their way to church.

A belief in the existence and mischievous propensities of the fairy tribe was formerly amongst the chief superstitions. These troublesome elves were supposed to milk the cows at night, to check them from yielding milk at morn, and prevent the butter from forming in the churn. They changed the infant left in the cradle, during the sleep or absence of its nurse, and performed many other acts peevish, envious, and wicked. But the exploits of this pigmy race are not peculiar to Wales, nor was their existence as confidently believed here at any period as it still is in other countries. One species peculiarly Welsh, are called knockers, from their continued knocking or hammering under ground. This noise is often heard by miners, and is invariably said to discover to the miner a rich load of ore. There is also a deep roaring of the sea, which is believed to be a forewarning of some dire calamity. The inhabitants of Llandudno heard this strange noise immediately previous to the melancholy wreck of the Hornby Castle, and many other instances of remoter dates could be adduced in support of this superstitious notion. Sometimes also a warning light is seen to shine out before a traveller, and conduct him in the precise direction of his journey, distinguished from jack-o’-the-lanthorn in this respect, that the latter cruelly “lures us to our doom.”

However vain and obsolete most of these phantoms may now be considered, some curious fancies are still entertained by the simpler part of the population. A story is often propagated through the parish of a funeral procession having passed along in a particular direction, without the aid of horses or bearers. Carriages, without horses, are said to have been seen and heard rolling along the road or round the village cross, the coachman, passengers, and all other circumstances being disposed as usual; and, many similar tales, obtain a ready credence amongst the peasantry in several parts of North Wales even at the present period.

In the festivities of the wedding-day much gaiety and mirth prevail. The bridegroom having the bridesmaid on his arm, and the bride leaning upon the bridesman, followed by a number of bidden guests, present themselves at the church door, where the order of the procession is reversed before proceeding to the altar. After the ceremony the whole party, in rank and file, and headed by the happy pair, walk, as it is called, in procession through the village, until the hour of dinner. This entertainment is usually provided at the home of the bride’s family, and if the parties be sufficiently wealthy, is supplied at their expense, but, if otherwise, each guest contributes a subscription proportionate to his means. A fortnight afterwards an evening party assembles at the house of some friend of the husband; amongst the poorer peasantry, it is usual for every neighbour to attend, and upon entering lay down his contribution on the tea-table. The night is then prolonged in mirth and good humour, the merry dance being generally kept up till daylight to the soft and gentle measures of the national lyre.

Fairs, which are very numerous, are attended by both sexes. Cattle are bought and sold in the early part of the day, pedlery, hardware, &c. continue to be exhibited during the remainder, and in the afternoon every cottage for miles around sends forth some happy, well dressed votary of mirth to participate in the festivities of the evening. The partiality for attending fairs is very remarkable, even the necessitous postpone the reception of little sums, to which by labour they have become entitled, to the succeeding fair-day, contemplating the pleasure of meeting their friends, from whom they were separated by occupation or inconvenience of distance. The frequency of these fairs, so many scenes of cheerful association—the number of annual, quarterly, and even weekly meetings amongst the religious of different sects—the amusements enjoyed at allotted festivals common to other countries—afford such frequent opportunities of an intercourse tending to alleviate anxiety and care, as, coupled with the agricultural distribution already adverted to, will sustain the justice of the conclusion, that the Welsh peasantry may be esteemed the most comfortable, happy, and independent in the British islands.

THE END.

CHISWICK:
PRINTED BY C WHITTINGHAM.