The supposition that the Welsh language is made up of consonants is more especially singular from the fact that it possesses, says a writer in the _Quarterly Review_, what perhaps no other nation has,—a poem of eight lines in which there is not a single consonant. These verses are very old, dating from the seventeenth century;—of course the reader will remember that the Welsh language has seven vowels, both _w_ and _y_ being considered and sounded as such. This epigram or poem is on the Spider, and originally stood thus,—
“O’i wiw ŵy i weu e â;—o’i iau Ei wyau a wea, E wywa ei wê aua, A’i weau yw ieuau ia.”
To this, the great Gronwy Owen added a kind of counter change of vowels, and the translation has been given as follows:—
“From out its womb it weaves with care Its web beneath the roof; Its wintry web it spreadeth there— Wires of ice its woof.
“And doth it weave against the wall Thin ropes of ice on high? And must its little liver all The wondrous stuff supply?”
A singular illustration of the vowel power in a language ignorantly supposed to possess no vowels.
And these remarks are not at all unnecessary, for they illustrate to the reader, unacquainted with the language, the way in which it becomes such a means of immediate emotion; its words start before the eye like pictures, but are conveyed to the mind like music; and yet the bony character of the language, to which we have referred before, adds to the picture dramatic action and living strength. What a language, then, is this for a competent orator to play upon,—a man with an imaginative mind, and a fervid and fiery soul! Then is brought into play that element of Welsh preaching, without knowing and apprehending which there would be no possibility of understanding the secret of its great power; it is the “_hwyl_.” When the Welsh preacher speaks in his best mood, and with great unction, the highest compliment that can be paid him, the loftiest commendation that can be given, is, that he had the “_hwyl_.” “_Hwyl_” is the Welsh word for the canvas of a ship; and probably the derivation of the meaning is, from the canvas or sails of a ship filled with a breeze: the word for breeze, _awel_, is like it, and is used to denote a similar effect. Some years since, when the most eminent Welsh preacher we have recently seen in England, at an ordination service, was addressing his nephew in a crowded church in the neighbourhood of London, he said, “And, my dear boy, remember you are a Welshman; don’t try to speak English, and don’t try to speak like the English.” A great many of his hearers wondered what the good man could mean; but both he and his nephew, and several others of the initiated, very well knew. He meant, speak your words with an _accent_, and an accent formed from a soul giving life and meaning to an expression. This, we know, is what the singer does,—this is what the musician tries to do. All words are not the same words in their meaning; the Welsh preacher seeks to play upon them as keys; the words themselves help him to do so. Literally, they are full of meaning; verbally, he attempts to pronounce that meaning; hence, as he rises in feeling he rises in variety of intonation, and his words sway to and fro, up and down,—bass, minor, and soprano all play their part, a series of intonings. In English, this very frequently sounds monotonous, sometimes even affected; in Welsh, the soul of the man is said to have caught the _hwyl_,—that is, he is in full sail, he has feeling and fire: the people catch it too. A Welsh writer, describing this, quotes the words of Jean Paul Richter: “Pictures during music are seen into more deeply and warmly by spectators; nay, many masters have in creating them acknowledged help from music.” Great Welsh preaching, is very often a kind of wild, irregular chant, a jubilant refrain, recurring again and again. The people catch the power of it; shouts rise—prayers! “_Bendigedig_” (“blessed,” or synonymous with our “Bless the Lord!”) Amen! “_Diolch byth_!” and other expressions, rise, and roll over the multitude; they, too, have caught the _hwyl_. It is singular that, with us, the only circumstances and scenes in which such manifestations can take place, are purely secular, or on the occasions of great public meetings. The Welshman very much estimates the greatness of a preacher by his power to move men; but it does not follow, that this power shall be associated with great apparent bodily action. The words of John Elias and Williams of Wern consumed like flames, and divided like swords; but they were men of immense self-possession, and apparently very quiet.