“And what became of him?” said I; “was he hung?”
“Hung, no! only stupid thief hung. Twm Shone clever thief; died rich man, justice of the peace and mayor of Brecon.”
“Very singular,” said I, “that they should make a thief mayor of Brecon.”
“Oh Twm Shone Catti very different from other thieves; funny fellow, and so good-natured that everybody loved him—so they made him magistrate, not, however, before he had become very rich man by marrying great lady who fell in love with him.”
“Ah, ah,” said I; “that’s the way of the world. He became rich, so they made him a magistrate; had he remained poor they would have hung him in spite of all his fun and good-nature. Well, can’t you tell me some of the things he did?”
“Oh yes, can tell you plenty. One day in time of fair Tom Shone Catti goes into ironmonger’s shop in Llandovery. ‘Master,’ says he, ‘I want to buy a good large iron porridge pot; please to show me some.’ So the man brings three or four big iron porridge pots, the very best he has. Tom takes up one and turns it round. ‘This look very good porridge pot,’ said he; ‘I think it will suit me.’ Then he turns it round and round again, and at last lifts it above his head and peeks into it. ‘Ha, ha,’ says he; ‘this won’t do; I see one hole here. What mean you by wanting to sell article like this to stranger?’ Says the man, ‘There be no hole in it.’ ‘But there is,’ says Tom, holding it up and peeking into it again; ‘I see the hole quite plain. Take it and look into it yourself.’ So the man takes the pot, and having held it up and peeked in, ‘as I hope to be saved,’ says he, ‘I can see no hole.’ Says Tom, ‘Good man, if you put your head in, you will find that there is a hole.’ So the man tries to put in his head, but having some difficulty, Tom lends him a helping hand by jamming the pot quite down over the man’s face, then whisking up the other pots Tom leaves the shop, saying as he goes, ‘Friend, I suppose you now see there is a hole in the pot, otherwise how could you have got your head inside?”’
“Very good,” said I; “can you tell us something more about Twm Shone Catti?”
“Oh yes; can tell you plenty about him. The farmer at Newton, just one mile beyond the bridge at Brecon, had one very fine bull, but with a very short tail. Says Tom to himself: ‘By God’s nails and blood, I will steal the farmer’s bull, and then sell it to him for other bull in open market place.’ Then Tom makes one fine tail, just for all the world such a tail as the bull ought to have had, then goes by night to the farmer’s stall at Newton, steals away the bull, and then sticks to the bull’s short stump the fine bull’s tail which he himself had made. The next market day he takes the bull to the market-place at Brecon, and calls out; ‘Very fine bull this, who will buy my fine bull?’ Quoth the farmer who stood nigh at hand, ‘That very much like my bull, which thief stole t’other night; I think I can swear to him.’ Says Tom, ‘What do you mean? This bull is not your bull, but mine.’ Says the farmer, ‘I could swear that this is my bull but for the tail. The tail of my bull was short, but the tail of this is long. I would fain know whether the tail of this be real tail or not.’ ‘You would?’ says Tom; ‘well, so you shall.’ Thereupon he whips out big knife and cuts off the bull’s tail, some little way above where the false tail was joined on. ‘Ha, ha,’ said Tom, as the bull’s stump of tail bled, and the bit of tail bled too to which the false tail was stuck, and the bull kicked and bellowed. ‘What say you now? Is it a true tail or no?’ ‘By my faith!’ says the farmer, ‘I see that the tail is a true tail, and that the bull is not mine. I beg pardon for thinking that he was.’ ‘Begging pardon,’ says Tom, ‘is all very well; but will you buy the bull?’ ‘No,’ said the farmer; ‘I should be loth to buy a bull with tail cut off close to the rump.’ ‘Ha,’ says Tom; ‘who made me cut off the tail but yourself? Did you not force me to do so in order to clear my character? Now as you made me cut off my bull’s tail, I will make you buy my bull without his tail.’ ‘Yes, yes,’ cried the mob; ‘as he forced you to cut off the tail, do you now force him to buy the bull without the tail.’ Says the farmer, ‘What do you ask for the bull?’ Says Tom: ‘I ask for him ten pound.’ Says the farmer, ‘I will give you eight.’ ‘No,’ says Tom; ‘you shall give me ten, or I will have you up before the justice.’ ‘That is right,’ cried the mob. ‘If he won’t pay you ten pound, have him up before the justice.’ Thereupon the farmer, becoming frightened, pulled out the ten pounds and gave it for his own bull to Tom Shone Catti, who wished him joy of his bargain. As the farmer was driving the bull away he said to Tom: ‘Won’t you give me the tail?’ ‘No,’ said Tom; ‘I shall keep it against the time I steal another bull with a short tail;’ and thereupon he runs off.”
“A clever fellow,” said I; “though it was rather cruel in him to cut off the poor bull’s tail. Now, perhaps, you will tell me how he came to marry the rich lady?
“Oh yes; I will tell you. One day as he was wandering about, dressed quite like a gentleman, he heard a cry, and found one very fine lady in the hands of one highwayman, who would have robbed and murdered her. Tom kills the highwayman and conducts the lady home to her house and her husband, for she was a married lady. Out of gratitude to Tom for the service he has done, the gentleman and lady invite him to stay with them. The gentleman, who is a great gentleman, fond of his bottle and hunting, takes mightily to Tom for his funny sayings and because Tom’s a good hand at a glass when at table, and a good hand at a leap when in field; the lady also takes very much to Tom, because he one domm’d handsome fellow, with plenty of wit and what they call boetry—for Tom, amongst other things, was no bad boet, and could treat a lady to pennillion about her face and her ancle, and the tip of her ear. At last Tom goes away upon his wanderings, not, however, before he has got one promise from the lady, that if ever she becomes disengaged she will become his wife. Well, after some time, the lady’s husband dies and leaves her all his property, so that all of a sudden she finds herself one great independent lady, mistress of the whole of Strath Feen, one fair and pleasant valley far away there over the Eastern hills, by the Towey, on the borders of Shire Car. Tom, as soon as he hears the news of all this, sets off for Strath Feen and asks the lady to perform her word; but the lady, who finds herself one great and independent lady, and moreover does not quite like the idea of marrying one thief, for she had learnt who Tom was, does hum and hah, and at length begs to be excused, because she has changed her mind. Tom begs and entreats, but quite in vain, till at last she tells him to go away and not trouble her any more. Tom goes away, but does not yet lose hope. He takes up his quarters in one strange little cave, nearly at the top of one wild hill, very much like sugar loaf, which does rise above the Towey, just within Shire Car. I have seen the cave myself, which is still called Ystafell Twm Shone Catty. Very queer cave it is, in strange situation; steep rock just above it, Towey River roaring below. There Tom takes up his quarters, and from there he often sallies forth, in hope of having interview with fair lady and making her alter her mind, but she will have nothing to do with him, and at last shuts herself up in her house and will not go out. Well, Tom nearly loses all hope; he, however, determines to make one last effort; so one morning he goes to the house and stands before the door, entreating with one loud and lamentable voice that the lady will see him once more, because he is come to bid her one eternal farewell, being about to set off for the wars in the kingdom of France. Well, the lady who hears all he says relents one little, and showing herself at the window, before which are very strong iron bars, she says: ‘Here I am! whatever you have to say, say it quickly and go your way.’ Says Tom: ‘I am come to bid you one eternal farewell, and have but one last slight request to make, which is that you vouchsafe to stretch out of the window your lily-white hand, that I may impress one last burning kiss of love on the same.’ Well, the lady hesitates one little time; at last, having one woman’s heart, she thinks she may grant him this last little request, and stretching her hand through the bars, she says: ‘Well, there’s my hand, kiss it once and begone.’ Forthwith Tom, seizing her wrist with his left hand, says: ‘I have got you now, and will never let you go till you swear to become my wife.’ ‘Never,’ said the lady, ‘will I become the wife of one thief,’ and strives with all her might to pull her hand free, but cannot, for the left hand of Tom is more strong than the right of other man. Thereupon Tom with his right hand draws forth his sword, and with one dreadful shout does exclaim,—‘Now will you swear to become my wife, for if you don’t, by God’s blood and nails, I will this moment smite off your hand with this sword.’ Then the lady being very much frightened, and having one sneaking kindness for Tom, who though he looked very fierce looked also very handsome, said,—‘Well, well! a promise is a promise; I promised to become your wife, and so I will; I swear I will; by all I hold holy I swear; so let go my hand, which you have almost pulled off, and come in and welcome!’ So Tom lets go her hand, and the lady opens her door, and before night they were married, and in less than one month Tom, being now very rich and Lord of Ystrad Feen, was made justice of the peace and chairman at quarter session.”