Welsh Lessons

I suppose it never crossed my mind that people would go to evening classes to learn Welsh before, say, the 1960s.  Certainly clever chaps like Cyril Cule and Ffransis Payne picked up the language and thousands of  unremarked 19C migrants to the coal fields would have learnt a new tongue in the organic way that newcomers to any foreign country might ...... but evening classes?

Now clearly I'd got this all wrong, which was why I was surprised to read, in the latest tranche of newspapers uploaded by our National Library, that the Breconshire authorities were subsidising such classes during the First World War.  In the winter of 1914/15 classes in Llanganten had 24 students, Beulah and Troedrhiwdalar 50 between them and there were 23 in Builth.

The classes seem to have been aimed at teaching the old language to English speakers.  By that time Builth was as anglophone as it is today, as was Llanganten (readers probably know it better as Cilmeri).  There was still a good deal of Welsh spoken in Beulah and Troedrhiwdalar and native speakers as well as learners seem to have been catered for there.  How long did it last?  Well the Beulah teacher, local farmer Daniel Jones of Penrhiwmoch, was appointed for a third winter in 1916.  Coincidentally he was the grandfather of one of my rediscovered Radnorians, the racing driver Liz Jones.

Not everyone was supportive of this enlightened policy though. When Llangammarch applied to the Breconshire Education Committee for support in 1915, voices - well chiefly the Surbiton born manufacturer Arthur Beckwith -  were raised against it.  Like the dreary steeples of Fermanagh and Tyrone Beckwith's comments are all too familiar:

classes like those for Welsh only are not a real and urgent need at the moment, and it is not one of the subjects on which we ought to spend public money.

It's easy enough to take a pop at Beckwith but at least he was an elected member and was out-voted by other elected members. The majority decided that the courses were popular and deserving of support. The virtue of councillors, you can get rid of them - much harder with the arms length quangocrats, third sector charities and out-of-control local officials you find  today.

At the end of their first winter the Welsh classes of Llanganten and Builth decided to engage in a little friendly competition to celebrate St David's Day 1915.  It was held at Builth's Forester's Hall (where? - Ed.) and the town defeated the village by 383 points to 354.  In addition to examples of our native flair for self-congratulation there were speeches from local bigwigs.  The town's Tory councillor Arthur Gwynne-Vaughan praised Lloyd George and his role in the war - a few months later residents would marvel at the popular solicitor's splendid masonic funeral - and the headmaster of Builth county school, Rees Thomas, made a well-received speech about Welsh nationalism.

Well actually it was also about the war.  Little Wales was part of a great Empire and its way of life was threatened by Germany.  If the enemy won all would have to learn the German language and the eisteddfod would be threatened.  Like the Poles the Welsh might become a minority in their own country (in the parallel universe called the present this nightmare scenario has actually come to pass in much of Mid-Wales ). Mr Thomas was overjoyed that Wales was in front of England, Ireland and Scotland in the matter of recruitment.  The best educated young men in Wales had volunteered to make up the Welsh battalions, which would emulate the valiancy ( is that a word? - Ed.) of Cromwell's Ironsides.

Perhaps Mr Thomas's heart was in the right place - his watchwords were justice, truth, good faith, humanity, mercy and education.  Who could disagree. He was greatly vexed by the suffering of gallant, little Belgium and it led him to head-up the committee charged with canvassing (pressurising?) the young men of the district to join the forces.  It seems that for the good headmaster Welsh nationalism could flourish as part of a great and virtuous Empire - in much the same way as so many of our modern day nationalists see the nation state as a thing of the past and Wales's destiny as part of another larger and supposedly virtuous entity. 

A new book from Builth

Perhaps like the black American soldiers from the Pencerrig camp this blog should stick to its own side of the Wye bridge,* but here we have a book (or maybe booklet - it only has 96 pages) full of interesting snippets about life in Builth during the Second World War.

Of course a locally produced book like this - it's published by the Builth Wells and District Heritage Society - isn't going to delve too deeply into the more controversial aspects of wartime life: profiteering, the black market, sexual shenanigans, the Epynt clearances etc.  What we do get are individual memories of varying quality and interest, the first chapter is particularly fine while one or two others would have benefited from a little discreet editing.

Some thoughts: the young Builth nurse who was badly wounded in the Coventry blitz and subsequently died.  More than 60000 civilians were killed during the war on the Home Front, shouldn't their names also be recorded on our war memorials?  The Bootle mothers who returned home after a few weeks because "they would prefer to face the bombs ,,,,, than stay in Builth."  One would like to know more.  The young Home Guarder much mocked for running off when confronted by a German parachutist, surely the sensible course of action?

All in all a volume that should fascinate younger readers and stir memories for the older  generation.

* It seems that the bridge was guarded to ensure that locally stationed white American troops stayed in Builth, while their black compatriots could go no further south than the Llanelwedd Arms. 

Stop Thief!

We've done our best to combat Breconshire's depredations.  Of course they've won the big prizes - like convincing the world that the Royal Welsh Show is held in Builth, but we've had some small victories.  We've reclaimed Caesar Jenkyns for the county of his birth and shown that the first Welsh novelist wasn't a Breconian.  There are more, here for example, it's thankless work but someone has to do it.

Yet still the thefts continue, aided and abetted by the likes of the Welsh Books Council.  Here they describe the painter Thomas Jones as a Breconshire landowner.  Maybe he was, but do a couple of fields count for more than his Radnorshire birthplace or his Radnorshire home?   And while we're at it, why do none of these people use paypal?  Don't they want to sell books?  It's not as if I'm willing to hand over my card details to every Tom, Dick and Cardi!

A Radnorshire History Month?

Unlike a modern caravan, a gypsy vardo took up hardly any room on a grass verge and the numerous brick encased standpipes found, in those days, around every village, provided plenty of clean water.

I remember, towards the end of the 1950s, one such vardo encamped on the chapel turn in our Radnorshire hamlet, I got quite friendly with their children but for some reason ended up in a bout of fisticuffs with one lad in the disused blacksmith's shop we called the pentis. It must have been a good scrap as some of the loafers from the village pub came out to watch, including our respective fathers. Eventually I was well-trounced, rsf, I guess in today's less robust climate such parental behaviour would have seen me whisked off into care.

Now these reminiscences are brought to mind by the current GRT History Month and in particular this article in last Saturday's Western Mail.  Should these three groups be lumped together?  The complaints in the article against the Fat Gypsy Wedding television programmes surely stem from the cultural differences between Romanis and Irish travellers. While discrimination against Gypsies is real enough, as this quote, reportedly from the 1954 edition of the Encyclopedia Britannica, illustrates:

“The mental age of the average adult Gypsy is thought to be about that of a child of ten. Gypsies have never accomplished anything of great significance in writing, painting, musical composition, science or social organisation. Quarrelsome, quick to anger or laughter, they are unthinkingly but not deliberately cruel. Loving bright colours, they are ostentatious and boastful, but lack bravery."

I do wonder if the eugenicist mentality at the root of such opinions, and which should have been buried along with Hitler, has merely taken on new and often politically correct forms. To such people minority histories can become another stick with which to beat the supposedly bigoted working class.

Back in the real world Radnorshire's gypsies have clearly made a contribution to the life of the county and not just in the preservation of the triple harp.  Incidentally the 1911 census finds the harp-playing family of young Fred Melenydd Roberts - I blogged about him here - living in a house called Melenydd Villa in Llandrindod's Tremont Road.  One wonders how the Roberts family felt when in August 1906 the "German" gypsies (I believe they could more accurately be described as Lovari) were escorted through the county under police guard, before being handed over to the Breconshire constabulary on Builth bridge?  The handover was watched by a crowd numbering in the hundreds before the group were allowed to camp off the Hay Road before being pushed on into Herefordshire the next morning, Today there are local businesses run by folk of gypsy origin, sometimes recognizable by the distinctive decoration on their vehicles.  Llandrindod natives may be interested in this reference to one such local family.

It seems that everyone has a history month nowadays: LGBT, Black, GRT, Irish, UK Disability,  - and that's just on the first page of Google.  So should Radnorshire join in the fun?  Not having a TV I can't be certain but I suspect that Welsh television has engaged more with Romani history than it has with that of Radnorshire.  After all I'm not entirely sure that the attitudes articulated by the following and rather typical Victorian comment have completely disappeared:

 

 "And if learning is greatest amongst English speakers in Wales, then we should of necessity look for it in Radnorshire. Instead, as everyone who knows Wales is aware, in this county just as much as the English parts of Wales, you will find the most uneducated, ill-informed, empty headed, immoral, uncivilized, and uncultured population of any part of the principality!"  (Translation)



Now it's quite understandable how comments like this arose.  When the haters of all things Welsh blamed the language for the ills of the country it was natural for patriotic voices to point to largely English speaking Radnorshire, which in some aspects - illegitimacy for example - had a "worse" record than its neighbours.

Although it would be amusing to hear television producers claiming their programmes were "an important way of redressing the many prejudices that have always existed against Radnorians" or to see the delightful Shân Cothi wandering the lanes of the border country, I don't really wish to see such a history month. It would be good though if Welsh historians and programme makers finally paid a little more attention to the history of East Central Wales.

Magnificent Mid Wales

A Sad Tale

WDL came from what was described as a respectable and well-connected Radnorshire family. Maybe it was this that landed the young clerk his job as a relieving officer with the Builth Poor Law Union in the early 1870s. Of course the Builth Union included the Colwyn District of Radnorshire, all except for WDL's home parish of Glascwm which was hived off to the Kington Union.

Young WDL, he was in his early twenties, married and proceeded to father a sizeable family. Yet somewhere along the way he started to go off the rails. At that time next of kin were expected to make a financial contribution towards the keep of their relatives in the newly built Builth workhouse . It was part of WDL's job to collect such funds. Unfortunately the money handed over by the likes of Mr Powell of Disserth, Mr Williams of Crossgates and Mr Worthing of Llanyre ended up in WDL's pocket rather than the coffers of the Union.

Worse was to come when WDL cashed a cheque for £50 at Builth's National Provincial Bank, money meant for distribution to the poor. Instead the relieving officer took to his heels, with Sergeant Flye and Constable Meade in hot pursuit. A month later he was apprehended on the streets of London. Sentence, at the Breconshire Sessions, 12 months imprisonment.

Unfortunately this was not the last time WDL's name appeared in the press. A year after being released he was back before the Breconshire courts charged with embezzling his employer, a local brewer. WDL conducted his own defence and so ably that the jury found him not guilty. This despite more that a dozen recent convictions for drunkenness, assaulting the police and damaging railway carriages. Leaving the Court a free man WDL was immediately rearrested on another charge.

This new charge was heard before the Cardiff police court, WDL - described as living at Pendre Villa, Builth - having borrowed £34 from a Cardiff moneylender, Solomon Blaiberg, by forging his father's signature on a promissory note. His father, by now living in Hundred House, explained to the court that he could not infact sign his name.

A few months later WDL was before the Bristol Quarter Session accused of stealing books from a local hotel. Again he defended himself and such was his eloquence in the face of overwhelming evidence that the jury found him not guilty. The judge somehow failed to notice this detail and sent the delinquent to jail. The next day his honour, having been made aware of his mistake, was forced to bring the newly shorn prisoner back from prison to be released.

WDL's unfortunate wife, together with her young family, had by this time been dispatched to Builth workhouse, where she was to spend the next 30 years or more, firstly as an inmate and then as an employee. What happened to WDL? By 1891 his wife was describing herself as a widow. Who knows, he may indeed have been dead.

Epynt Races, Part 2

There's a great site detailing the Epynt races of the late 40s and early 50s, see here.

Hope the site owner won't mind me ripping this fabulous snap showing the start of a race in 1948. It's not just the bikes but the people in the crowd which reminds me of how things used to be. The past another country? Indeed.

Epynt Races, Part 1

Thanks to Builth remembrancer SGP for showing me this programme from the 1951 Epynt motor cycle races.

Someone should revive these races, but for historic bikes. Would make a change from the ghastly over-painted, over-powered, often badly driven rally cars which dominate the hills nowadays.

Small Earthquake, No-One Hurt.

OK I realise my blog is getting boring now.

Surely Not

While perusing Ian Mortimer's latest page-turner 1415 Henry V's Year of Glory, I came across the aforementioned king's pardon of one Llywelyn ap Madoc Ddu:

"For all treasons, rapes, murders, rebellions, insurrections, felonies, conspiracies, trespasses, offences, negligencies, extortions, misprisions, ignorances, contempts, concealments and deceptions committed by him."

The pardon claims that Llywelyn was from Builth but hang on a minute, does that really sound like an inhabitant of that peaceful little land beside the Wye?

Posh Totty

It would be a fairly bigoted Labour supporter who refused to admit that Samantha Cameron possessed a decent undercarriage. OK not enough to get one voting for Suzy Davies, but still.

Anyway while perusing today's papers I came across an article detailing some of the gel's blue blooded ancestors and one reference caught my eye, her grandmother was the widow of a racing driver. So who could this be, the article didn't say? Infact a little research revealed it was someone we've already posted about on this blog, Glen Kidston.

Kidston, winner of Le Mans in 1930 and whose various dare-devil exploits earned him the tabloid sobriquet "the man who cannot be killed" finally met his maker flying in the Drakensburg Mountains, he'd recently broken the London to the Cape record. Kidston's funeral service was held at Glasbury Church on June 3rd 1931. I'm not sure if he was buried at Glasbury or at the family estate - does anyone know? Kidston's widow wasted no time finding a new husband, marrying Sam's grandfather later that year.

A Radnorshire Book from Canada?

I've posted before about the Duggan brothers from Llansantffraid yn Elfael who made something of a splash in Albertan politics back in the early years of the last century, here and here. Now a correspondent writes to point out that Joseph Duggan (pictured) penned a volume about his little Welsh home called "The Unforgotten Valley, Studies of Life and Character on the Welsh Border". Anymore information about this book?

Of course Duggan married the Builth contralto Bessie Evans, daughter of local musical maestro Llew Buallt and readers might be interested in a snippet from the recently published treasury of local history Cymru Evan Jones. It seems that Llew (Evan Evans) was living at Melin Dol Llinwydd on the Duhonw brook during the great flood of 1853. Such was the height of the deluge that the family had to seek shelter in the loft and then as the waters continued to rise were forced to break through onto the roof. Their troubles were not over, as half the building suddenly collapsed into the torrent, young Evan would have been seven years old at the time.

Book Review

This is a selection taken from the papers of "the doyen of peasant historians" Evan Jones (1850-1928) of Ty'n y Pant, Llanwrtyd. As the editor points out in his foreword, some aspects of the author's interests have had to be largely omitted from this edition - archaeology and music for example. What remains are 300 pages covering the folk culture of the Builth Hundred, its farming, local history, social life, sports, religion, customs, poetry, superstitions and traditional proverbs.

It is a book that will be well received by anyone with an interest in Mid Wales, agricultural history or folklore in general. By its nature it is the type of book that can be dipped into at leisure, divided as it is into numerous short paragraphs on a myriad of topics which had caught the attention of Evan Jones during a lifetime of collecting.

Checking out the occasional item of Radnorshire interest, I was quite excited to see examples of the work of, what the author described as a Radnorshire born country rhymer in the Welsh language, Shams Clee. Unlike Evan Jones, we now have access to the 19C Census Returns which show that Clee was infact born in Llanfihangel Bryn Pabuan.

How I came to acquire this book provides a sad comment on the history of Builth Hundred. I had meant to buy a copy before Christmas, but had never got around to placing an order. Visiting some relatives I was told that one of them had just purchased the book after reading a review in the local paper and, since Evan Jones' sons Emrys and Afan had been regular visitors to her parents during her youth, she had hurried out to place an order. Unfortunately the book was of little use as she had failed to notice that it was written in Welsh. I purchased the book (at a small discount!) and reflected on the sad truth that many of the families whose ancestors and farms are mentioned within its pages would be in a similar position - unable to read about their own history.

The book is published in an attractive hardback edition by Gwasg Gomer at £16.99.

Book Review

I'm almost resigned to the fact that any new book about Radnorshire is going to quote that old chestnut about Richard Fowler of Abbeycwmhir and his five hundred a year. Conradi's At the Bright Hem of God, Radnorshire Pastoral doesn't fail in this respect, although, justifiably, he is quoting his friend Iris Murdoch. He also makes a good point by saying that the doggerel reflects the preponderance in the county of small independent farmers rather than big landlords.

Conradi makes no bones about the fact that this is an outsiders book, the natives providing a romantic backdrop for those who retreat to the county in search of "inwardness". The book deals almost exclusively with writers and Conradi's Radnorshire is drawn rather large - George Herbert, Henry Vaughan and Thomas Traherne are the subjects of one chapter for example. Indeed Marcher Pastoral might have been a more accurate subtitle for the book.

We should be grateful to Conradi for bringing Ffransis Payne to the attention of a wider audience and the book does not ignore some of the great Welsh language poetry composed for patrons living in the county. I do wish the translation of Elen Gethin as Elen the Terrible could somehow be abolished, it means olive or swarthy skinned. Does anyone really think that bards like Lewis Glyn Cothi and Llawdden would have called Elen terrible to her and her family's face? One thing the book does make apparent is the paucity of Radnorshire born writers, even Hilda Vaughan was born in Builth.

Did I learn anything new about Radnorshire? Yes, quite a lot, perhaps if I had paid more attention to the Mid-Wales Journal I would have known of R S Thomas's Presteigne connections for example. All in all there are enough "ideas" in the book to keep your blogger in topics for quite a while. Conradi shares Kilvert's ability to paint a picture in a few words and at just £9.99 this Seren publication should certainly find a place on any Radnorian's bookshelf.

Just in from the Windy City

Who won the contralto solo at the Chicago World's Fair Eisteddfod in 1893? Why none other than Bessie Evans of Radnor House, Builth Wells.

The daughter of local musical legend Llew Buallt, Miss Evans was a soloist with Madame Clara Novello Davies's all-conqueing Welsh Ladies Choir.

A lively lass Bessie, she was 19 at the time of the Fair, was showered with offers to stay in America. She did indeed return on a number of occasions, even singing for President McKinley at the WhiteHouse. She had already sung for Queen Victoria.

In 1903 Bessie married a Radnorian, Joseph Duggan and eventually moved to Edmonton, Alberta where she died, mourned by the local musical community in 1938.

Now the likes of Bessie didn't suddenly spring out of nowhere. Indeed there was something of a musical scene in the Builth/Llandrindod area in the late Victorian period, one that found success on a national scale. I'll return to it in a future post.

Meanwhile enjoy the cartoon of Dame Wales and this photo of the Ladies choir in 1897. Clichéd, certainly, but an important factor in maintaining a sense of national awareness during a period when the only state recognition of a separate Welsh identity came from the US Immigration Service.

A Correction

Misled by the Oxford Companion to the Literature of Wales I've always believed that Builth born writer Thomas Prichard authored the very first Welsh novel, The Adventures and Vagaries of Twm Shon Catti, which was published in 1828.

Now it seems that Radnorian Edward Davies of Llanfaredd's epistolary novel Elisa Powell beat the Breconian by a generation, hitting the streets in 1795.

Wyesiders will realise how much I hate to do this, but the truth must be told.

Taking the Waters

Someone really should republish this charming little book, which describes a journey to Llandrindod Wells in 1744.

Of particular interest to me are the descriptions of the linguistic position in Radnorshire at the time. In Knighton there was little Welsh spoken but by Bleddfa an old man could speak no English. Between there and Llanfihangel Rhydithon there was little Engish except for an innkeeper who spoke the language "indifferent good". A visit to Builth market heard only the occasional word of English on the bustling streets, and was followed by colourful descriptions of country dances held at the parish wakes of Diserth and Aberedw. Again everywhere was Welsh but with examples of the bilingualism which would be the forerunner of later language shift.

A witty book in which even the occasional anti-Welsh comment seems penned to reflect more on English prejudice rather than native vice.

A Builth Writer

Never mind the Dictionary of Welsh Biography, Thomas Prichard, the first Welsh novelist was born in the lively Wyeside town of Builth around 1790. As the correction to the DWB points out, Prichard left Builth in 1839, presumably to return to life as a travelling actor. His wife Naomi and her five small children stayed on in the town where she found employment as a milliner. In 1848 Naomi died, and by the time of the 1851 census, his eldest daughter Tydvil is found living in Broad Street, supporting her sisters and brother by selling books. Edward Poole, a graduate of Cambridge University and the publisher of Prichard's most well known work The Adventures and Vagaries of Twm Shôn Catti is living next door, in 1841 he had been living with Prichard's wife. One wonders if he was related to Edwin Poole, the founder of the Brecon and Radnor Express.

No doubt selling books proved unsuccessful and Tydvil and her siblings had moved to Cardiff by 1861, where she worked, like her mother, as a milliner. Meanwhile Prichard continued to write on Welsh topics, for example his Heroines of Welsh History, which you can read here. Interestly Prichard's daughters all had names found in the book: Tydvil Nest, Senena (the mother of Prince Llywelyn), Mevanwy (the earliest use of the name in Wales) and Ellen.

By 1861 Prichard had lost his nose in a duel and was living as a recluse in the Swansea slum of World's End. Tormented by gangs of youths, a public subscription by the town's Cambrian newspaper raised enough money to clean Prichard's house and provide him with food and coal. Within five weeks he had fallen into his new fire and burned to death. His daughter Tydvil died in 1869, while Senena Coles lived on in Clare Road, Cardiff, finally passing away at the age of 80 in 1917.

The Man Who Cannot be Killed

The mention of Harcourt-Wood brings to mind a much more famous Bentley Boy with Builth connections. Winner of the 1930 Le Mans 24 hour race with Woolf Barnato, Glen Kidston was called, by the popular press of the day The Man Who Couldn't Be Killed. The Kidstons had made their fortune in Clyde shipbuilding industry, but young Glen's childhood home was at Glanwye just outside Builth. In the end the grim reaper got his man, and here is Time magazine's report, detailing just a few of Kidston's narrow squeaks - although it doesn't mention his affair with Barbara Cartland!

"Glen Kidston, rich, young and debonair, was sometimes called "the man who cannot be killed." A naval cadet at 15, he was aboard the training ship Hogue when it was torpedoed, was rescued hours later and transferred to the Aboukir which likewise was torpedoed. A grown man and sportsman, he flew with the late Belgian Banker Alfred Loewenstein and crashed. He was piloting a speed boat at 60 m.p.h. when it broke in two. In 1929 he was one of two survivors of the crash of a Lufthansa plane in England which killed six. Lately he bought a specially built Lockheed monoplane, flew it from London to Cape Town in 6 1/2 days for a record, despite a crackup in Africa. Last week Commander Kidston and his friend Capt. T. A. Gladstone were flying from Johannesburg to Natal in a Puss Moth biplane. They encountered a duststorm in the Drakensberg Mountains. A wing was wrenched off. Commander Kidston and friend crashed. Both died."

Beris Harcourt-Wood (1902-1968)

Harcourt-Wood was one of the lesser lights in that speed mad bunch of pre-war toffs known as the Bentley Boys.

Wood's best individual result was a fourth place driving a works Bentley in the 1929 Eireann Cup race in Phoenix Park. That year he also finised sixth in the 1929 Brooklands 12 Hour race, co-driving Brian Lewis's Riley. In 1930 Wood was all set to compete in the Le Mans 24hrs with Jack Dunfee in Dorothy Paget's Blower Bentley. Unfortunately the fuel over-heated and the car was unable to start.

So where did Harcourt-Wood pick up that unusual given name? Well, his father Captain Charles Harcourt-Wood owned the Caerberis estate in Builth Wells and the Bentley Boy must have been fond of the area as, although Caerberis had been sold long before, Harcourt-Wood returned to the district, where he died in 1968. Co-incidently the family of a much more successful racer, Tim Rose-Richards lived at Caerberis for a while after the First World War.