March 1st is a holiday for all Welsh people. The whole country is covered in carnival processions, festivals and entertaining thematic performances. This is how the Welsh celebrate their national holiday - St David's Day.
It is not as well known as St. Patrick's Day, an Irish national holiday that is celebrated around the world. But for the Welsh this is an important and beloved day, during which they organize mass celebrations, prepare national food and hold processions.
St. David (Davey) of Wales, Archbishop of Menevia, miracle worker
Saint David (Davey) of Wales, Archbishop of Menevia, miracle worker
The exact date of birth of Saint David of Wales is unknown. Some studies indicate that he was born around 500 or 510, others indicate that it happened in 487.
The saint died in 589 or 601, on March 1.
Memorial Day - March 1
Saint David was born in the town of Henwiniv (now in the county of Ceredigion). His mother was Saint Nonna, according to legend, the great-granddaughter of the most famous King Arthur. The life of Saint David says that Nonna’s son performed his first miracles while still in his mother’s womb. Being in distress, she once entered the temple. And the priest who was delivering the sermon was speechless for some time. This was seen as a sign that the unborn child would eventually eclipse all preachers in Britain.
Raised by a pious mother, David in his youth wished to become a priest and took monastic vows. His mentors were Saints Paulian and Illtyd, the founders of monasticism in Wales. The young man David visited these ascetics in their monasteries to learn monastic life.
After this, David went on a journey through Wales, founding many monasteries, the most famous of which is still the monastery in Menevia, today bearing the name St. Davis. According to legend, Saint David even visited Jerusalem, where the Patriarch of Jerusalem himself ordained him as an archbishop.
This fact in itself is unlikely to have actually taken place, however, the legend is valuable in that it affirms the continuity of the Welsh Church from the ancient Orthodox churches and its independence from the Canterbury center.
Saint David preached strict asceticism. The brethren in his monasteries ate only bread and vegetables; they were only allowed to drink water. The monks avoided conversation and idle talk, opening their lips only for prayer and to utter the most necessary words to each other.
The charter even prohibited the use of animals in agricultural work. The monks themselves harnessed themselves to the plows and carried all the burdens themselves. David, a descendant of kings, fasted and worked like everyone else. His favorite ascetic exercise was to read the Psalter after entering the river, even in extreme cold.
The saint became famous for many miracles and healings. But most of all, he became known as a tireless fighter against heresies, including Pelagianism. The most famous miracle of St. David is connected with this. At the Council of Brefi he preached a sermon against heretics.
But too many people had gathered, and not everyone could see the inspired speaker. And then a hill formed under the feet of Saint David, raising him above the audience like a pulpit. At that moment a dove landed on the saint’s shoulder. It was on this day that David was recognized as Archbishop of Wales.
Saint David (Davey) of Wales, Archbishop of Menevia, miracle worker
Interesting fact
Saint David rested in the monastery he founded in Menevia (now St. Davis), where his relics are still located.
All his life he worked for the glory of the Lord. He liked to say:
“Rejoice, brothers and sisters! Keep the holy faith and do little good!”
Excerpt characterizing David of Wales
Prince Bagration, having reached the highest point of our right flank, began to descend downwards, where rolling fire was heard and nothing was visible from the gunpowder smoke. The closer they descended to the ravine, the less they could see, but the more sensitive the proximity of the real battlefield became. They began to meet wounded people. One with a bloody head, without a hat, was dragged by two soldiers by the arms. He wheezed and spat. The bullet apparently hit the mouth or throat. Another, whom they met, walked cheerfully alone, without a gun, groaning loudly and waving his hand in fresh pain, from which blood flowed, like from a glass, onto his overcoat. His face seemed more frightened than suffering. He was wounded a minute ago. Having crossed the road, they began to descend steeply and on the descent they saw several people lying down; They were met by a crowd of soldiers, including some who were not wounded. The soldiers walked up the hill, breathing heavily, and, despite the appearance of the general, they talked loudly and waved their hands. Ahead, in the smoke, rows of gray greatcoats were already visible, and the officer, seeing Bagration, ran screaming after the soldiers walking in a crowd, demanding that they return. Bagration drove up to the rows, along which shots were quickly clicking here and there, drowning out the conversation and shouts of command. The entire air was filled with gunpowder smoke. The soldiers' faces were all smoked with gunpowder and animated. Some hammered them with ramrods, others sprinkled them on the shelves, took charges out of their bags, and still others shot. But who they shot at was not visible due to the gunpowder smoke, which was not carried away by the wind. Quite often pleasant sounds of buzzing and whistling were heard. "What it is? - thought Prince Andrei, driving up to this crowd of soldiers. – It can’t be an attack because they don’t move; there can be no carre: they don’t cost that way.” A thin, weak-looking old man, a regimental commander, with a pleasant smile, with eyelids that more than half covered his senile eyes, giving him a meek appearance, rode up to Prince Bagration and received him like the host of a dear guest. He reported to Prince Bagration that there was a French cavalry attack against his regiment, but that although this attack was repulsed, the regiment lost more than half of its people. The regimental commander said that the attack was repulsed, coining this military name for what was happening in his regiment; but he himself really did not know what was happening in those half an hour in the troops entrusted to him, and could not say with certainty whether the attack was repulsed or his regiment was defeated by the attack. At the beginning of the action, he only knew that cannonballs and grenades began to fly throughout his regiment and hit people, that then someone shouted: “cavalry,” and our people began to shoot. And until now they were shooting not at the cavalry, which had disappeared, but at the foot French, who appeared in the ravine and fired at ours. Prince Bagration bowed his head as a sign that all this was exactly as he wished and expected. Turning to the adjutant, he ordered him to bring two battalions of the 6th Jaeger, which they had just passed, from the mountain. Prince Andrei was struck at that moment by the change that had occurred in the face of Prince Bagration. His face expressed that concentrated and happy determination that happens to a man who is ready to throw himself into the water on a hot day and is taking his final run. There were no sleep-deprived dull eyes, no feignedly thoughtful look: round, hard, hawk-like eyes looked forward enthusiastically and somewhat contemptuously, obviously not stopping at anything, although the same slowness and regularity remained in his movements. The regimental commander turned to Prince Bagration, asking him to move back, since it was too dangerous here. “Have mercy, your Excellency, for God’s sake!” he said, looking for confirmation at the retinue officer, who was turning away from him. “Here, if you please see!” He let them notice the bullets that were constantly screeching, singing and whistling around them. He spoke in the same tone of request and reproach with which a carpenter says to a gentleman who has taken up an ax: “Our business is familiar, but you will callus your hands.” He spoke as if these bullets could not kill him, and his half-closed eyes gave his words an even more convincing expression. The staff officer joined the admonitions of the regimental commander; but Prince Bagration did not answer them and only ordered to stop shooting and line up in such a way as to make room for the two approaching battalions. While he was speaking, as if with an invisible hand he was stretched from right to left, from the rising wind, a canopy of smoke that hid the ravine, and the opposite mountain with the French moving along it opened before them. All eyes were involuntarily fixed on this French column, moving towards us and meandering along the ledges of the area. The shaggy hats of the soldiers were already visible; it was already possible to distinguish officers from privates; one could see how their banner fluttered against the staff. “They are going nicely,” said someone in Bagration’s retinue. The head of the column had already descended into the ravine. The collision was supposed to take place on this side of the descent... The remnants of our regiment, which was in action, hastily formed and retreated to the right; from behind them, dispersing the stragglers, two battalions of the 6th Jaeger approached in order. They had not yet reached Bagration, but a heavy, ponderous step could already be heard, beating in step with the entire mass of people. From the left flank, walking closest to Bagration was the company commander, a round-faced, stately man with a stupid, happy expression on his face, the same one who ran out of the booth. He, apparently, was not thinking about anything at that moment, except that he would pass by his superiors like a charmer. With a sporty complacency, he walked lightly on his muscular legs, as if he were swimming, stretching out without the slightest effort and distinguished by this lightness from the heavy step of the soldiers who followed his step. He carried a thin, narrow sword taken out at his foot (a bent sword that did not look like a weapon) and, looking first at his superiors, then back, without losing his step, he turned flexibly with his whole strong figure. It seemed that all the forces of his soul were aimed at getting past the authorities in the best possible way, and, feeling that he was doing this job well, he was happy. “Left... left... left...”, he seemed to say internally after every step, and according to this rhythm, with variously stern faces, a wall of soldier figures, weighed down with backpacks and guns, moved, as if each of these hundreds of soldiers was mentally saying, every step of the way: “ left... left... left...". The fat major, puffing and staggering, walked around the bush along the road; the lagging soldier, out of breath, with a frightened face for his malfunction, was catching up with the company at a trot; the cannonball, pressing the air, flew over the head of Prince Bagration and his retinue and to the beat: “left - left!” hit the column. “Close!” came the swaggering voice of the company commander. The soldiers circled around something in the place where the cannonball fell; an old cavalier, a flank non-commissioned officer, falling behind near the dead, caught up with his line, jumped, changed his foot, fell into step and looked back angrily. “Left... left... left...” seemed to be heard from behind the threatening silence and the monotonous sound of feet simultaneously hitting the ground.
How do residents decorate their clothes?
March 1 is the feast day of St. David - the main holiday in Wales. Despite the fact that it remains a working day, parades are held in all cities and towns in Wales on this day, music is played, people wear traditional clothes, emphasizing their Celtic identity in every possible way. Members of the English ruling family often take part in the celebrations, in particular the heir, who bears the title of Prince of Wales.
One of the main attributes of the holiday is the daffodil. These flowers can be seen on hats, in buttonholes, woven into women's hairstyles, etc.
Why narcissist? Probably because of the name. The word daffodil is pronounced daffodil in Welsh.
Notes
- [www.catholicchurch.org.uk/liturgy/Calendar/National/Wales2.html National holiday calendar] for the Catholic Church in Wales
- [www.cofe.anglican.org/worship/liturgy/commonworship/texts/calendar/holydays.html List of Church holidays] on the Church of England website
- [www.sourozh.org/Calendar/Calendar06.rtf Calendar and lectionary] of the Diocese of Sourozh on March 1
- [www.maryjones.us/ctexts/mostyn117.html Genealogies from Mostyn MS. 117]
- [www.newadvent.org/cathen/04640b.htm The Catholic Encyclopedia]
- [www.kmatthews.org.uk/history/annales_cambrie/ac_b_frames.html Annales Cambriae B] The version probably dates back to the early 13th century; given according to the edition of J. K. ab Itela (1860)
- [www.kmatthews.org.uk/history/annales_cambrie/ac_a.html Annales Cambriae A], given by Phillimore, Egerton Annales Cambrie
// Y Cymmrodor 9 (1888), pp. 141-183
