Radnorshire Bardic Poems, 35

This is a praise poem by Lewis Glyn Cothi to Henri ab Ieuan Fychan of Llansantffraid yn Elfael:

No 156, Praise of Henri ab Ieuan Fychan

Who is the apparent angel?
Who is the generous one in the parish of St Bride?
A long life filled with love
To you Henry, lion of half the land,
Son of Ieuan Fychan and like
Your forefathers, from the blood of Idwal,
Love from the father and the grandfather,
Proper authority to the righteous,
A leader where the great spears are splintered,
A bow of Elfael and Buellt,
A Bedwyr of Gruffudd ab Adam,
Let there be life for your mother’s son!
Arise and build for yourself,
The house of the father on the grandfather’s land.

Bryn Coch merits praise,
A hill of old wines and courtly song,
A hill of yellow gold and mead,
A healthy hill under a wide sky;
A hill of a noble baron’s line,
A hill of the bards and their eternal judgements.
For a bard and for a mere man,
Was there ever such a goodly hill?
Who made it, mead reared child?
Who? Cadwgan ap Hywel!
Ieuan was his natural son,
And after him his grandson Henri
Is in the courting place of his grandsons.
You come from Hywel Sais, from Lleision,
Generous one of your generation;
You’re a squire from Rhys Gryg,
You’re the fine linen of Tewdwr.
You began as a youth to share
The gold of the bank with all.
As a boy you gave me
The full bodied ale of Weobley;
A Goodman, for us at last there are
Gold and stallions, saddles and mead.
Never on this hill was born
Your better for sharing goods Henri.

You give us Henri, in one summer,
As much as a hundred since Henry the First.
You are the Henry of our day,
As brave as Henry the Third.
Henri you are, my lordship.
Henry of Derby was less than you.
Are you any worse for wine giving along
The banks of the Wye than Henry of Monmouth?
May you have health and a world of knowledge,
Henri your name will be recalled.
Their way one of riches,
May your hand have this Henri:
Half the lifetime that came to Moses,
May that be an added extra.

Another Book of the Month

Preacher's Son by Dewi Williams is an interesting book about everyday life in North Breconshire in the early 1950s, as seen through the eyes of a schoolboy - the son of the minister at Troedrhiwdalar. ISBN 1-84685-186-6, published by the Diggory Press.

Down Below

The 1950s saw the final flourish of that type of "gentleman" driver who had dominated the British motor sport scene in the pre-war years. Newer types, the garagistes and arguably in the case of Moss and Hawthorn that distinctly modern phenomenon - the pushy dad, were supplanting the toffs.

Two of the old-school were to be found just across the Radnorshire border amongst the hop-pickers of Herefordshire, although neither Grand Prix career could be described as distinguished. Peter Walker, a gentleman farmer of Shobdon Court, had a good deal of success in sports cars though, winning Le Mans with Peter Whitehead in 1951 and taking second place in 1953, when he partnered Moss. John Riseley-Prichard of Almeley competed in the 1954 British Grand Prix in his Connaught, although a career highlight was surely a works Aston outing in the 1955 Le Mans race, partnering Tony Brooks.

With their motor racing careers behind them both men's lives seem to have taken a downward, perhaps even a symbolic, course. It is reported that Walker eventually ended-up as an alcoholic down-out on the streets of London while Riseley-Prichard, a Lloyd's underwriter, was one of the original partners in the Ann Summers sex shop before it was sold-on to its present owners. It is further reported that Prichard became involved in child pornography, dying of AIDS in Thailand, hotly pursued by both the police and the British tabloids.

Setting the record straight

The well respected author and Lotus historian Michael Oliver recently found a witness to Innes Ireland's 1963 crash at Kent, Washington State. This is the crash where some idiotic track official parked his road-car at trackside which Innes proceeded to hit in his Lotus 19-Ferrari, with the result that his right thigh bone disappered eight inches up his backside.

Anyway this is what the "eye-witness" - he was a friend of the guy who parked the car - had to say to Oliver:

"Regarding Ireland's "injuries", my memory is that he didn't say a word to any of us on the turn when we asked him how he was. He sprinted across the track (with cars still running on the track), moved himself quickly up the hill toward the pits, and out of our sight. He may have been injured but there was no evidence of it to any of us on the turn."

Sprinted across the track eh! Luckily I was able to come-up with this picture which showed Innes before he was cut out of the wreckage. By the way Innes was allergic to morphia so was extracted without the benefit of any pain killer. Anyway the record was set straight and a piece of disiinformation hopefully put to rest.

Radnorshire Bardic Poems, 34

This request poem by Lewis Glyn Cothi is addressed to Syr Huw Iolo - a priest - and his cousin Hywel ap Ieuan Coch of Llansantffraid yn Elfael. It's unclear whether the Earl of Pembroke mentioned at the end is Jasper Tudor or William Herbert.


No. 134, Request for a Bridle and Harness

Two generous men, the kindly sort,
Who give gifts of the same type;
One is ordained, by Non,
The other a layman with a cruel hand.
Syr Huw Iolo, his Welsh is good,
From the fair land of Elfael;
The other is Hywel son of
Ieuan Coch, a wise leader.
Hywel Fychan was a patriarch
From a noble stock of men,
And they, two young Welshmen,
Come from his body like two branches.
For all his land they are two good shepherds,
They’re his two guardians;
One with the propriety of law
And the other with his courageous spear.

In summertime Syr Huw wears
The ermine cape of the most supreme;
Hywel wears an iron helmet
And steel armour.]; there from our judgement
Syr Huw Iolo our teacher
In the college of Abergwili,
In holy Menevia, it’s true,
He is installed in the two lands.
Hywel, take battle throughout the world,
He also wages war on men,
There he is before one hundred
With a war horse and the silver spear.
The two kinsmen, yoked together,
Who maintain their strength.
In Llansantffraid they are one party,
One blood, one people.

Oh God, it is generous
For two men to give gold.
If Syr Huw Iolo is too generous,
Then Hywel is just as generous.
I am a bard who follows their path,
Unsteady in my old age;
Although I’ve had gifts from these fine goodmen,
Now I seek for more there.
I seek a bridle and a harness,
I’ll get a saddle from the Wye vale.
Two liberal stags shall give them freely,
Hywel and that saint Syr Huw Iolo.
On my shod colt I’ll go to Chester
For the Feast of the Holy Rood.
To hold his riddel as he runs
The flaps must be set tightly.
Stars, the work of a jeweller of Rouen,
This chip-style leather work.
My strong stallion wears
A chasuble of belts,
Across his forehead there are daisies,
And woodland leaves all down his flanks,
Upon his mane, leaves of the same work,
And upon his breast is a citadel of colour.
A fine harness like stars or frost,
Reed stems to hold a charger.

My white charger wears a dress of stars
Syr Huw Iolo, the stars of Hwlyn.
Too much of a gift for a man,
The two presents that they give,
These two give me their two presents,
The Earl of Pembroke must provide a stallion.

Rex King-Clark

Robert "Rex" King-Clark is not a name that will ring many bells to followers of motor sport, indeed he is not even discussed on "The Nostalgia Forum" where even the most obscure racing topic gets an airing. A Scot, although born within a mile of the Brooklands track, he was educated, like his namesake Jim Clark, at Scotland's premier public school, Loretto.

A long and distinguished military career saw King-Clark winning an MC in pre-war Palestine where he commanded one of Orde Wingate's Special Night Squads and later commanding both the Manchester Regiment's 2nd Battalion and later the Army Air Corps. His motor racing career on the other hand was much shorter lasting only from the Brooklands Easter meeting in 1936 to that year's Autumn meeting. Driving a super-charged 747cc J4 MG the 22 year-old King-Clark managed a dead-heat with Welshman Roy Eccles at the 1936 Brooklands August meeting, a performance that earned him the coveted membership of the British Racing Drivers Club.

King-Clark's brief motor racing career soon took second place to more daring exploits, such as flying his Miles Whitney Straight monoplane to various postings in the Middle and Far East, flights that coincidently saw him taking aerial photographs of Italian military facilities in North Africa. I presume that King-Clark is still alive and if so he must be one of the BRDC's oldest members. You can read about his motoring exploits in his excellent book Free For a Blast.

Monaco 1960

Footage of one of Innes Ireland's madder moments can be seen here. Innes finally made it to the top of Beau Rivage and back to the finish - of course that meant he had to push the car through the tunnel! The Scotsman was classified as finishing either seventh or ninth depending on which source you consult.

Brands Hatch, 1951

With women racing on equal terms with many of the men at pre-war Brooklands, it's a surprise that the ladies failed to make much of impression when motor sport resumed after 1945. The influential 500cc Formula Junior class would seem to have been tailor-made for women, it being a class where a light body weight was a great advantage. For whatever reason it was not to be and this newsreel of a ladies race in 1951 gives a good impression of the chauvinism of the times.

By the way the race was won by Elisabeth Store in Alf Bottoms' JPS although the moral victor was the motorcyclist Olga Kevelos - winner of two gold stars in the International Six Days Trial - driving a works Kieft. Olga was winning the race so easily that she was asked to slow down only for Store to surprise her at the finishing line. Joan Gerard, wife of Grand Prix driver Bob, was third in a Cooper.

Rossa?

The blue and white car is John Surtees' Ferrari heading to a World Championship clinching victory at the 1964 Mexican Grand Prix. Enzo Ferrari was having one of his occasional fits of pique against what he perceived as a lack of support from his Italian compatriots. The car was entered under the banner of Chinetti's North American Racing Team, hence the American racing colours.

Llanbadarn Fawr

Pictured is a detail of the tympanum at Llanbadarn Fawr church in Radnorshire. For an English expert "a weak copy of the West Herefordshire school" or for an expert of more Welsh sympathy "the closest in character to the illuminations of the older manuscript tradition."

The tree growing out of a cat's head? The nine-pointed star? Mysteries which no-one has explained. How strange that we search the world for mysteries yet so often ignore those on our own doorsteps.

Brooklands 130-MPH Badge

Collectors of Brooklands memorabilia are getting excited about a forthcoming sale which will feature Kit Baker-Carr's 130-mph badge. Just 16 of these badges were awarded to drivers who lapped the Outer Track at over 130 miles per hour. The 16 were Kaye Don, John Cobb. George Eyston, Oliver Bertram, Dudley Froy, Whitney Straight, Charles Brackenbury, Chris Staniland, Freddy Dixon, Richard Marker, Lord Howe, Kit Baker-Carr, Jack Duller, George Harvey Noble, and two lady racers Kay Petre and Gwenda Hawkes.

Nowadays when a woman circulating mid-field in some obscure racing series is cited as evidence of feminist progress, it's interesting to note that more than 70 years ago their sisters were mixing it with the very fastest of the men.

Radnorshire Bardic Poems, 33

This is an elegy composed by Lewis Glyn Cothi to Rhys and Owain ap Philip of Cenarth in the parish of St Harmon. They were the grandsons of Owain Glyndwr.

189, Elegy for the two sons of Philip ap Rhys

Rhys and Owain were mighty of face like the ash,
The hand and arm of St Harmon;
From Gwerthrynion they went
To heaven, to see Non.

Oh Non and Caron! Oh Iorys!
His choir needed the deer of Philip ap Rhys.
Oh my Jesus! Oh Mauricius!
Now their shirts linger beneath the stones.

Two shirts without sleeves for gentle folk,
Long is the yearning and grief;
Two coats made from the ribs of the oak,
Two gowns from heaven and earth.

Earth is the end,
The proud ignominy of the grave,
A strange revenge, to steal Rhys!

Owain was the youngest,
He and his oldest brother
Were the most generous, the tallest like pine trees.

Cenarth is cheerless
Without the falcons of Deheubarth,
So too the courtyard of Sycharth in the two lands of Powys.

There is no land without drink,
No township without custom,
A hand is not useful without finger or thumb.

Their generous father’s land
Is left without benefit, without their fair brows
Without their grip, without their two fingers.

A husband and wife
Are left weak by the loss of two chieftains,
And from placing two stones over their two shrouds.

They were the thumbs of Bedwyr
They were the marshals of the host,
They were two eagles, like ancient Cyrys.

Two hands their two shores
Two waters, two shields,
Two places, two vineyards, from the same fair court.

These two were,
Over seas, over lands,
For thousands they were Lludd and Llefelys.

Brothers who loved poetry,
They gave to the bards,
After the manner of the Wales of Uthr and Emrys.

I cry out to God in heaven,
I do so in anger,
A cry again and again after that.

The lions of Gwenllian
Swim in the heavens,
They went from the court to the churchyard.

Two men who had land,
Two saints of a prince,
Two privileged goshawks of the land’s parishes.

Two lands with two shores,
Secure their inheritance,
Heaven at last is their share, Owain and Rhys.

100RMI

Although 5BPH is perhaps the better known of Innes Ireland's Lotus Elevens, his second car 100RMI certainly brought the Scotsman more major successes. A 2nd in class in the 1958 Rouen 3 Hour event was followed by a class win (see picture with co-driver Peter Lovely) in the Reims 12 hour race. Innes then took the car to an overall victory over the Ferraris in the Trophee d'Auvergne on the new Clermont Ferrand circuit. A class win at the Ollon-Villars hillclimb completed a successful Continental season.

The car although sometimes entered under the Team Lotus banner was infact owned and prepared by Innes. The number plate of course stands for Robert McGregor Innes and it was an Irish registered car - a Wexford plate.

Drum Ddu

In the previous poem it seems to me that Lewis Glyn Cothi alludes to the area within the Builth hundred that harboured outlaws - Drum Ddu. We know that Lewis was an outlaw himself at one period, so he may have know the area from then - the outlaw bard Llywelyn ap y Moel almost certainly did. Drum Ddu continued as a rebel stronghold well into the sixteenth century and even later - no doubt it was more heavily wooded then than it is today.

Anyway, this enables me to make a tenuous link to the fretless bass player Percy Jones, who included a track entitled Drum Ddu on the Brand X album Manifest Destiny. Now jazz fusion is not my scene but you can check out Radnorshire born Percy's interesting website here. One thing mentioned on the site is a CD of R&B tracks made from an old tape recording of The Viceroys playing at Glasbury Village Hall in 1965. In a way that CD must be almost as fragile and rare a piece of historical evidence as some of the manuscripts containing the old bardic poetry.

Radnorshire Bardic Poems, 32

This poem begins with praise of St Afan, so was probably composed for a parish feast to celebrate the saint's feastday - 16th October. the Patron of the feast Dafydd ap Maredudd belongs to the major descent group in Buellt, the Moelwyniaid. Lewis Glyn Cothi again alludes to an ancient manuscript roll in his possession, to which he adds the names of his own patrons.

No. 139, Praise of Dafydd ap Maredudd and Siwan vz Rhys

I have fashioned verse for you Afan of Buellt,
I have poems as numerous as dewdrops;
The son of Caredig C’redigion,
You are Afan, so true writing confirms,
Son of Cunedda Wledig, a good, wise man,
Backbone of the wealthy lands,
Son of Edeyrn of the race of the generous
Padarn Peisrudd, like a sprout from Israel,
Kinsman in the faith to Holy Dewi,
Kinsman of dark-fair Teilo the anchorite,
A bishop in your triple cope,
You are a saint of their lineage.

In your parish there is a divine Welshman,
He has the parish to follow him;
Dafydd the son of Maredudd,
Part of the silkwork of Llysdinan,
Of the line of generous Ieuan ap Morgan,
A lion of the land of Buellt and her splendid material.
Except for Dafydd, there is no man
More like Ieuan ap Moelwyn.

Truth grows from the words of his tongue,
Truth is what the man seeks.
There is not a word that is not honoured,
Yet only truth goes to the chair.
His tongue is the ready bragget
That varnishes judgements.
There were seven who counted the stars,
Many suppose, in the vale of Tiber;
Their seven tales to the nation
Protected a child after breakfast.;
Dafydd is the eighth,
His tale will come to his son.

The God of the Hebrews, to my breast
Has given an old rolled manuscript.
Just as he placed in Moses’ tablet
Ten commandments at the end of the roll,
Two names - they are not of the same age -
Have been placed in my heavenly roll:
The name of Jesus who was and will be,
In the tablet, and the name of Dafydd.

Two speeches, by Mary, were on my lip
Yesterday, yet spoken by Taliesin:
They were a speech concerning the psalters of Mary,
And Siwan’s speech of welcome.
A daughter of Rhys, with five fingers from the bank,
Is youthful, talented Siwan.
The Enid of Gruffydd this white wave,
A fair spoken grandchild of Ricert;
An Euron of the race of Anarawd,
A portent in her five years of fortune.
To Buellt, there as she grows,
The sun of Cantre’ Selyf has turned,
To Llanafan, a heavenly spot,
To Llysdinam, above the river meadow.
The best court between the Wye and the church
For a talented lad, Llysdinan.
I aim for Rhos Dinan,
I go to the peak of Caer Ddinan.
I’m not to be had, I’ve no wish, ever,
To be more than two steps from the castle of Dinan the Giant.

Siwan is in fair Llysdinan,
Dafydd, humble his words.
Today Dafydd and Siwan,
Both call for a feat on a fair headland.
Little Siwan is good for profit,
Dafydd is good and young,
They are good to everyone, all are good,
They were so kind, God be kind to them.

Radnorshire Bardic Poems, 31

Another praise poem by the fifteenth century bard Lewis Glyn Cothi which yet again reflects his great regard for the cantref of Elfael. Ieuan Du and Lleucu vz Ieuan Coch lived in the parish of Diserth, probably at Trecoed.

No 152, Praise of Ieuan Du and Lleucu vz Ieuan Coch

I walked through many lands
When I was footloose and free;
I saw with my own eyes
The riches of those evil countries;
I saw that their wealth was not to be had,
Not a score of their race were generous;
In Elfael I found bountiful folk,
There is no more generous land than this.

In Elfael on our own doorstep,
There is good fun and generosity;
In Elfael, the patrimony of the men,
There are warriors once more;
In Elfael, the land of Mael of the mead,
In crisis there is courage.
Here there is one of my nation
Who would hold the two lands once more:
Generous Ieuan Du, a leaping stag,
It is he, the son of Dafydd.
They talk throughout the five counties
Of the lineage of Hywel ap Meilyr;
I brought here for sale
A song for the goshawk of Diserth;
He gave me, and not sullenly
Three times its worth, and a little more.

There was once a lion in the town of Caerleon,
With his men of the Round Table;
He conquered, and shared with them,
Townships as far as Rome.
Ieuan has been a faithful pupil
To Arthur of old,
He has conquered, and will do so again,
In six places in Uwch Mynydd.

For Ieuan there is a hall
Entirely made of carved wood.
There within its walls
Is all that warms a resting man:
The warmth of food and discussion,
The warmth of gold, followed by verses,
The warmth of wine inside one,
The warmth of another silver coin.
Ieuan and his fair mistress
Share with all who are present.

There you’ll meet cheerful Lleucu,
A famous host, the daughter of Ieuan Coch;
She is the grandchild of Cadwgan,
He is the grandchild of Meilyr’s son.
A proverb, by the face of Non,
The kindness of these people;
They are the best of our country,
Sowing minted gold, providing mead.
Their mothers, their fathers,
Their brothers up in the vale of Edw,
Their children will be the strength of our land,
Their grandchildren will be honoured.
These two, a fine adventure,
Will excel over all others.

Jesus placed Lleucu under an oath,
Giving her hand to this prince;
He granted a wealth of power, Iefan,
And in that power and her share;
He granted tenants, he granted houses,
He granted fine soil, he granted good land,
He granted gold coins to him and to her,
Now grant them a long life.

Monte Carlo 1932

Click photo to enlarge

Joan Richmond

The very first VSCC Welsh Weekend was held in Presteigne in 1939, and second place in that year's event went to the racing driver Joan Richmond driving a Lancia Lambda. Joan came to prominence in 1921 by driving a Citroen from her home town of Melbourne to Camooweal in Western Australia. Coming to Europe her biggest success was in the 1932 JCC 1000 mile event at Brooklands which she won with Elsie Wisdom in a Riley. Returning to Australia after the war she lacked the funds to continue racing but found a sporting outlet in sailing inexpensive Sabot yachts.

I wonder how much of a challenge Joan found the Radnorshire hills, after all this was a lady who drove her Riley to the start of the 1932 Monte Carlo Rally from Australia via Asia and the Middle East!

In the News

There's a profile of Innes Ireland in today's edition of the Scottish newspaper the Sunday Herald. Read it here.

Radnorshire Bardic Poems, 30

This is a praise poem by Lewis Glyn Cothi to Watcyn Fychan of Hergest

No. 127, Praise of Watcyn Fychan

Mary has made a heaven of the present
In the estate of fair Herast,
And Master Watcyn, God, a powerful father,
Has made into a man of estate.
Estate is being strong,
Being wise to give judgement;
Estate is the charge of two kindreds
And the ruling of others.
Many judgements with the white harness
From whence comes the saint of Gwallter Sais.
He is the sword form Dover to Glasbury,
And along the Humber, Tomas's chieftain.

He would be a generous prophet,
Sixty acres will fall into place;
He would silence and be heard,
The truth comes from the quiet prayer.
Gwatcyn, who gathers and calms,
Who compels with weapons.
Gentle and wild, moorland and wood,
In my opinion, so unalike.
With the spear he causes
The rebellious to loose men,
He does not make peace
For the hosts who come to war.
Gwatcyn is a wise-bloom
Slow-brave, witty-wise.
He subdues the men of the lowlands
With his fair words,
Some of the fearless out of fear of battle,
Some others out of love.
Abaying the two lands of Powys
With the tip of a finger.
Not Dudley nor the Duke nor their men
Have done as much as he.

The land of Powys, mother of the mead,
Is his kindred, and Gwynedd.
Let there be called beneath his banner
Eighteen lands, they'll come to him:
Cedewian and Caereinion,
Ceri and broad Arwystli,
From London to great Mechain,
From Cyfeiliog to Maelor.
By now he rules a hundred castles,
A hundred great townships, a hundred healthy crowds,
A hundred citadels before the conquest ends,
A hundred companies with a hundred spear-rests,
A hundred stallions, the first of a thousand,
From a hundred to twenty thousand;
He seeks a core of counties along the border,
Twenty lands follow him,
Twenty seals from the heights of Windsor,
Twenty offices for my great lord.

Watcyn at the limits of his lands
Is honoured as a baron;
His credible father was a baron,
Their great-grandfathers were barons;
He is a baron without a word gone to waste,
He shall be a tall earl, the lion of Herast.

A Few Words About

Ivy Leona Cummings was born in London 27th October 1900, the daughter of car dealer Sydney Cummings. She achieved some early celebrity when she lapped the Brooklands track at aged twelve after sneaking onto the circuit in her father's car. After the Great War Cummings raced at Brooklands, on the sand at Skegness and in France. You can see some early film of her in 1921, winning a race in France follow this link and click on view the story. In 1926 the Cummings Bugatti led the Grand Prix de Boulogne for the first three laps before overturning in a ditch on lap four - the three laps accounted for a quarter of the 448 kilometer race. Cummings married a radiologist Dr Henry Warren-Collins who persuaded her to give up the track. She died in London 4th December 1971.

More Memorabilia

Here's an interesting item, currently on sale at ebay.

The seller states "This example was believed to have belonged to former F1 Lotus driver - the late Innes Ireland. It is thought that he modified the standard mounting bracket to allow the badge to be fitted through the radiator grille of his vintage 3 litre Bentley." That would explain why there is no identifying detail such as a name or membership number - which is usually to be found on the mounting bracket.

The price at the moment is a paltry £28.50, about 100 times less than the price paid for a "Jim Clark" badge a few months ago. The word is that the BRDC retain ownership of these badges although I don't know if they actually take any steps to get their property back. Who knows, they might, after all Innes was the BRDC president back in the early 90s.

Update: The badge finally sold for £125. A pre-war Ivy Cummings badge, and as a woman she would only have been an honorary member, sold on ebay for £511 a couple of months ago. I guess the poor condition and lack of provenance counted against this item.

Auction Watch

This piece of Ireland memorabilia is coming up for auction at next week's Cheltenham racecourse sale. The goblet was awarded for fifth place in the 1964 Austrian Grand Prix - with his usual luck Innes was headed for a podium finish before a broken tappet saw him having to nurse the BRP home in a race won by Lorenzo Bandini's Ferrari.

The goblet was sold for £276 in the rather overheated Sotheby's sale of March 1997. At Cheltenham H&H are estimating between £50 and £80.

White pages

Great fun, looking through the Radnorshire phonebook for 1922. What a go ahead place Llandod was with 146 numbers listed, Builth had a respectable 40, with Knighton (16), Presteigne (12) and Rhayader (10) lagging behind. The villages are hardly represented at all with four numbers listed for both Newbridge and New Radnor. I'll post some interesting snippets another time, just one motor racing connection for now: The family of the famous pre-war racer Tim Rose-Richards are listed. They lived at Caer Beris in Builth from 1918 to 1923.

Radnorshire Bardic Poems, 29

In the fifteenth century Ieuan ap Philip rebuilt a part of Cefnllys Castle. In this praise poem Lewis Glyn Cothi describes the rebuilding. At the end of the poem some of the lines are lost.

No. 171, Praise of Ieuan ap Philip

The famous man of the dominion
Within the yard of Cefnllys,
Ieuan, his frownless body,
The son of Philip, a fond sight.
Truly in his black face
The dignity of Philip Dorddu.
The blessing of Ifor ap Maredudd,
Ieuan, placed on his cheek.
Ieuan is, by my life,
The right-hand of the world's knowledge.
As for face, he allows no folly,
Auburn black with a wise tongue.

For the land he builds a court,
Like an earl's house from a three court mould.
Turning three into one house,
A tower of Tewdwr's five sons.
It, too, grew together,
A close of shields, so very snug.
Three woodlands of pale oak
Have been jointed together.
As wide as the house of Llyr Llediaith,
His work is a moon of lime like an altar.
An architect with a line fashioned
A grove of trees within a white napkin.
A yard like the church of Oswallt,
A crown of obligation above the slope of the river cliff,
An enclosure of planks,
For Ieuan it is Corfran's citadel.

The lion has made in Cefnllys
A hundred high lofts above a single court;
The axe of Rhosier ab Owain
Has hewn them in a bondwood.
He's made a new hall for a wage
Second to the hall of Arthur;
For Ieuan, on a night of feasting,
It is an Ehangwen in Maelienydd.
Everyone comes there to a Dewi,
Across the three seas at Whitsun,
And the Dewi is Ieuan;
And his fortified court on the bank's edge,
By the hand of Curig, is like
The stone building of St David's Menevia.
The fair court is the same colour as a relic,
A holy Enlli is Cefnllys.
It was an improvement on the others,
An altar for the grandsons of Ifor.
This wood yard shines,
A college like the church of St Mary,
A light like the church of St John,
All is bright atop a bank.

Ieuan from his hall
Shares his rent with every grade.
Ieuan is good and carefree,
He holds two lordships.
He is twice as good..........
Black his fac........
He provides the weak with alms,
God is Ieuan's guardian.

Book of the Month

This self-published book by Joe Saward details the lives of the famous racers Grover-Williams, Robert Benoist and Jean-Pierre Wimille. Although it covers the driving careers, the main thrust of the book is concerned with their activities in the French Resistance and with the Special Operations Executive. Benoist was executed at Buchenwald in 1944, Williams survived at Sachsenhausen until March 1945 while Wimille - perhaps the leading driver in the years immediately before the World Drivers Championship came into being in 1950 - was killed during practice for the Buenos Aries Grand Prix of 1949.

The book claims that Benoist's arrest was the result of information obtained by the Germans from SOE heroine Violette Szabo. This is a controversial claim and I would like to read some reviews of Saward's evidence from experts in this field, at present the only reviews I have seen come from the motor racing side. Saward quotes a conclusion by SOE historian Michael Foot which to my uninformed eyes seems very unfair to Szabo "the ghastly story of Violette Szabo's suffering is so far as I can ascertain completely fictitious". I have read that Foot's SOE history was written purely from documents held by the SOE and that he conducted no interviews with surviving agents. Subsequently Foot was successfully sued by SOE agent Peter Churchill and also by R. J. Minney, the author of the book about Szabo "Carve Her Name With Pride". Far from Szabo's suffering being "completely fictitious" her cellmate at Limoges reports that Violette was raped by her interrogators. By the time he wrote his Dictionary of National Biography entry on Szabo, Foot seems to have revised his opinion of Szabo's treatment, he writes "brutal interrogations got nothing out of her but contempt." None of this is mentioned by Saward.

Grand Prix Saboteurs has Szabo betraying the Paris safehouse where Benoist was arrested. The evidence for this were German documents seen by Benoist and others while under arrest and interrogation at the Gestapo's Avenue Foch headquarters. Why did the Germans allow these documents to be read? A second question, how do we know that Benoist was able to see these documents? The source is Benoist's son-in-law Andre Garnier, who seems to have been able to speak to Benoist at the Avenue Foch. I find this all unconvincing.

Joe Saward has done motor racing history a service by detailing the heroic lives of Grover-Williams and Benoist. I look forward to reading some informed reviews of this book.

Radnorshire Bardic Poems, 28

Here’s an ode by Lewis Glyn Cothi praising the family of Phelpod ap Rhys of Brilley.

No 145, Praise to the four sons of Phelpod ap Rhys

Four entangled oak roots to Cynon,
Who maintainer four courts,
Four lambs of St Peter,
Four earls of Phelpod ap Rhys.
Four who speak as one, so that some would not
Dare to venture a finger’s step from them,
Are they not four fair girdles
From the stout house of Phelpod ap Rhys?
Four corners for the land like the four fingers of a hand,
Four lions from the same court,
Are they not fair like four guiding heads,
The golden tapers of Phelpod ap Rhys.
The grandsons of Rhys share one design
With Phelpod ap Rhys of the land of the Isle of Honey,
To welcome the poets and storytellers,
To desire for knotted gold and song.
In the summer I have Dafydd’s gold freely,
The gold of Rhys I’ve had upon my clothes,
The gold of Sion, in gifts, given eagerly,
The white-hot gold of Tomas of the same temper.
The mead of Dafydd was had, like the Teme,
The mead of Rhys, to my waist, like the water of Egwad,
The mead of Sion, an ocean to my eyes,
The blue mead of Tomas, such as his father made.
What better four under the moon?
Best the four who share a single love.
Four angels of God set amongst us,
Four sons of Phelpod, supreme lions,
Four gospel books, their feast is not denied,
Four sons of Phelpod of one exaltation,
Four waters of Paradise of one content,
Four lances of Phelpod between four lands,
Four corners of the earth, of one appearance,
Four stags of Phelpod between four battles,
Four gifts of mankind, they fight as one,
Four notes of Phelpod, from his seed and stock,
Four prime feats, a lamp for all the country,
Four arms of Phelpod against four treasons,
Four main winds, let there be four experiences,
Four sons of Phelpod in reconciliation,
For Maels of Elfael, from brow to pate,
For Mays of Brilley where all are treated,
Four beryl stones who would greet me,
From four beryl stones let there be seed and progeny.
Let there be seed like that from a young salmon,
From four knowledgeable lions,
From four marvellous brothers,
From four saplings of the oak of Rhys

Book of the Month

Ivor Wynne Jones, the author of this book, is a former Liverpool Daily Post journalist who clearly doesn't like Welsh nationalists much or Saunders Lewis at all. The occasional pro-unionist prejudices do nothing to diminish the value of the book, however, which is full of interesting facts and original research about the activities of the security services in wartime Wales and the stories of Welsh born collaborators in Germany and elsewhere. There are some minor factual lapses, the Welsh Republican Movement of the 1950s and the Welsh Socialist Republicans of the 1980s were not the same organization, for example.

The book lists the names and addresses of all 156 individuals who appeared on the Home Office's Welsh Suspect List, a list of individuals under secret MI5 surveillance at various times during the war. Nearly two thirds of the names are foreign born; Italian cafe owners, the German wives of British subjects, Franco supporting Spaniards etc. There are a number of bar room bores and others reported by members of the public for expressing pro-Hitler sentiments. Only four leading Welsh Nationalists appear together with a handful of members of the British Union of Fascists. All in all a pretty unimpressive effort by the security services.

One name on the list has Radnorshire connections, Philip Huddleston Wharton of Llandudno was born in Llanddewi, Radnorshire in 1897. His English born father had a deck chair hiring business, although the family had moved to North Wales by 1901. Wharton was denounced by neighbours for listening to the German radio and praising Hitler and Mussolini, his mother, by the way, was born in Nantmel parish.

Much of the rest of the book consists of interesting research into Germany's Welsh National Radio station and Welsh speaking collaborators such as Guardsman Bill Griffiths and the mysterious RAF sergeant Raymond Davies Hughes. The double agent Arthur Owens and Hess's Welsh connections are also covered. All in all a book that covers some little known aspects of Welsh history and well worth reading, if you can find a copy.

Radnorshire Bardic Poems, 27

There are some fine elements in this praise poem by Lewis Glyn Cothi to Rhys ap Phelpod of Brilley and Mallt vz Ieuan of Bryncoch, Llansantffraid yn Elfael. The description of the hearth at the beginning and the description of the arduous duties of the bard are particularly good.

N0. 146. Praise of Rhys ap Phelpod and Mallt vz Ieuan

In Brilley there is a hearth
That provides gold and food for all,
A hearth heaped with warm ash,
Built high with slow burning oak.
A baby’s cradle, free from cold,
A table of charcoal between two cosy walls;
An altar of peat upon the floor,
A fire from an ash wood.
So very warm, this square fortress,
A great bed of charcoal and embers,
A hearth between four flagstones,
With twenty slates in its floor;
A banner shaped like a flitch,
A pen of fire on a fair floor.
The smoke of heaven in a carved stone enclosure.
It is manna within a hall.
Stone like the hearth of Rheged,
Very pale rocks in a warm castle.
The oak light of Urien’s home
Has been kindled in a blessed household.

A bard’s blessing, it is so beautiful,
This is the blessing I give.
Two hearths better than Dublin,
For our tongue’s sake have become one:
A hearth of Kington, one of our tongue,
A hearth of Bryncoch once more,
A hearth of Phelpod from the vale,
A hearth for a falcon of Elfael’s land,
And two like them, by the Holy God,
Hold the two hearths.
The Roland of Brilley, a defender,
Generous Rhys, an unassuming man,
You are the swan of Phelpod ap Rhys,
And his hart, an emperor from John.
Your custom, Rhys, while it be summertime,
To honour the most authoritative,
And Mahallt, the gem from Ieuan,
Gives clothing to the weak cripples.
Ieuan ap Cadwgan has been
The brave dragon of Emrys for Wales;
You and his daughter shall both
Be well filled with cheerfulness.
You are happy from the height of nobility,
Happy is Mallt pouring mead.

My office Rhys, to bring levity
To your court, Rhys, for an age to come.
To have the best ale in my hand
And to care for your mazer-cup,
To kiss, six hundred times,
The rim of the sparkling bell,
To wait upon it during the feast,
Caring for its lid and its carousal,
To have more gold than I merit,
And to dine in your court.
My blessing, Rhys, to you,
But to Mallt, the blessing of my God.
You are two who make me welcome,
And one despite giving a score of gifts.
Your old family have had two hearts
And one of them would seem like eight,
And your sons and your grandchildren,
And those to be born to them,
And every grandchild of your great grandchildren
Shall govern the houses of this hearth.

In Auntie's Vaults

It's well worth having a dig around the BBC's experimental on-line archives. Brian Johnston interviewing Innes Ireland for the 1st December 1960 Roundabout programme looks interesting. Here's the programme detail:

Ireland describes how he took up the sport - his father owned a garage - and lists his other sporting interests. His first full racing season was in 1957. He is married, with a small daughter, and lives in the Welsh mountains. He is usually nervous before a race. He feels that one of his best wins was at Goodwood earlier in the year, when he beat Stirling Moss in the Formula I event.

The bit about his father owning a garage is news to me - a misunderstanding on the part of the transcriber I would guess.

Radnorshire Bardic Poems, 26

This praise poem by Lewis Glyn Cothi is addressed to Rhys ap Gruffudd of Glascwm. The leading bardic patrons in Elfael Uwch Mynydd all seem to be descended from the Deheubarth descent group Rhys ap Tewdwr, a number of whose patriarchs are mentioned here. This poem is interesting in that it shows that the Ulster hero Cu Chulainn was known in fifteenth century Radnorshire.

No 153. Praise of Rhys ap Gruffudd

On Easter day I'd go into Glasgwm,
To Rhys of the heavy ash spear,
The dear son, there in the two lands of Elfael,
Of Gruffudd, his body was generosity.
The grandson of Cadwgan with his ash tree
Will win the whole wide world.
The Huail of Hywel ap Meilyr,
In his place he'll come to win land.
Yet through the summer, he did not speak
At all, except with care.
Quiet talk is to my taste,
Good and wise when it comes.
Quiet and wise and sweet
Is all that Rhys speaks.
A wise man has spoken fairly
Three words that pierced a rock.
The occasional word in every Assembly
Is all that Rhys speaks.
One of his words in passion,
Count for two fair words or three.
Words that became his good poem
To all who were there.

He never quarrelled with anyone,
For his part, he never seeks contention;
But should they seek contention,
Rhys would do more than his share.
Rhys Michell was the same
In the overthrow of the great earls of Deheubarth.
Rhys Gryg, the finest Rhys of Christendom
Was feared in the land of Dyfed;
In a time that is know
This Rhys will follow them.
Rhys ap Tewdwr, fom his household,
Gave gold minted from his mould;
Generous Rhys from the border of broad Elfael
Gives silver this very hour.
I would suggest that there is none like him
For generosity, no-one compares;
The equal of all, despite the cost,
And better will be the gold from his hand.
Better than an earl, by the power of Non!
Better than a duke, the line of Cadwgan.

Had I tongue of steel
To take a newly created language,
I could not sing swiftly
Half a word to him in song,
Had I, without delay,
A head of stone, even if it were marble,
It could not deliver what Rhys would pay,
Nor its half, to our domain.
The generous prefer that honest verse
Should be delivered before a man.
Truly Rhys loves the wine of Alsace,
And he shares it with those men who do,
Six different ales, upon the floor,
A great expense there'll be in Elfael;
Six times as generous as Cu Chulainn,
Even in ebb, is Rhys.
The man is good for three spirits,
Good with his ale to weak and poor.
Well he shares with the three isles,
God will share well with Rhys.

Radnorshire Bardic Poems, 25

Another praise poem by Lewis Glyn Cothi. Ieuan ap Philip rebuilt Cefnllys Castle in the Fifteenth Century. The bard compares Ieuan to various lawyers of the day and indeed his Welsh Law book is still preserved at the National Library in Aberystwyth. The whitewashed walls of Cefnllys must have been quite outstanding, sited on a hill and bounded on three sides by the River Ithon (see the old postcard) far below. The mention of uncovering a hearth is significant, it was a Welsh legal term by which the true proprietor regained an inheritance. The bard is saying that although Ieuan might hold this castle for the Duke of York, infact he is the proper ruler of this part of Wales.

No 170, Praise of Ieuan ap Philip and Angharad vz Ieuan of Cefnllys Castle

What better wall about a castle,
This fair wall like distant Gloucester?
A white castle within a circle of deep water,
An eight-sided castle above the curve of the Ithon,
A Greek citadel, set within twelve girdles,
The name of the place is Cefnllys.
This castle's name is found
In the great history of the Mortimers;
The largest castle where there are kindred,
It has its name and privileges in Brut.
It was indeed extinguished ,
A Tre-wen except for two small parts.

The masters of the laws of Swydd Ithon,
He has uncovered the hearth.
Ieuan, with all the strength of Christendom,
Son of Philip, dressed in velvet.
From the descent of Ifor, his grandfather,
Flow two lines from the Tordduaid.
I have called him, in the highest place,
A second justice from Elystan.
He talks, like John Milewater,
In Maesyfaidd about civil law.
The wisdom of old Dafydd Hanmer
In his speech or peroration,
He is our Burley, an Aberhale,
A lawyer like Merbury.
A Fitzwarine of Maelienydd,
A wise Fitzhenry of the trial day.

He has made on the lip of the Ithon,
A building like Sandal, an Anglesey.
Beli, lord of the blue sea,
Ordered the building of a city,
And Lludd repaired it, henceforth
Caer Ludd and the quarrel for it.
Ieuan, in the same manner,
Has made a wall of worked stone,
A palace made from lead work;
From the flesh of the ash he has made a city,
And his sons and grandchildren
From the eighteen streets of a city.

The cosy royal palace is unhealthy,
Good health is in the heights.
In the month of May, the mountain lark
Turns towards the heavens,
At the start of the summer the eagle
Is eager for the highest place.
Ieuan, who is under the seal,
Is a healthy hart on a high bank.

The words Non and Eigr are joined
In my mind with Angahard and her mead.
The golden moon of Ieuan
Son of Hywel, a pure lamp,
She descends from Elystan.
Could any of her sex be more generous?
It flows the bloodline of Madog Fychan,
along the pathway of descent to Beli and Bran.
Angharad, moon of the feast,
The very pinnacle of grace and nobility.

Ieuan shares the same foundation
As Tewdwr from his eight buildings.
Ieuan, he gave wealth and burnished gold,
Ieuan dispenses wine from gold,
And the Duke of York, in need of a man,
Has made him a receiver.
There never was a more able constable,
There never will be, as long as there is Christian faith.
There's never been, with his minted gold,
A better governor of a castle.

Merry Christmas, Look You

At least one regular reader of the blog is going to enjoy this clip.

Just click on "View this story" to see the video after you've opened the link, isn't it.

Radnorshire Bardic Poems, 24

This is another praise poem by Lewis Glyn Cothi composed for Rhys ap Sion and Elis Hol of Gladestry, perhaps on the occasion of the christening of their son. Llwythyfngwg was the name of the district in what became East Radnorshire in which the parish of Gladestry (in Welsh Llanfair Llwythyfnwg) is situated. I wonder if she was the Alice Holl of Old Radnor who contracted a secret marriage with Yevor ap Holl at Bryngwyn church in 1475?

Poem 162, Praise of Rhys ap Sion and Elis Hol

A good place for feasting, with no mean frown
On a winter's night in Llwythyfnwg.
I go, in the name of God and Mary,
To beg a fair judgement upon Gladestry.
In Gladestry, by Llawenfel,
There's money for me and pleasant honey,
The Ludlow ale has made me well,
The Weobley ale has made me completely fit.
Wine I've had with no surly refusal,
From eight havens in Llwythyfnwg,
And folk of true nobility
Treat me in the mead houses.
Rhys, son of Sion, where I would take myself,
Elis Hol at his side.

Sion, son of Einion, son of Hywel,
In terms of pounds he was the richest;
After Sion and his gifts, Rhys
Fills the Isle of Honey.
Elis Hol, before the voice of the generous,
I called her Elis Hael.
I know increase, like the honey of the swarm,
A word to a Mary of the Iforites.
Often many gifts were given to me,
Elis and Rhys gave them,
Many dinners at nines,
And many suppers at sevens,
Many a cape, the best of a hundred,
Many shirts, the colour of crucian,
Many gifts in the shape of gold,
Many wines, is the gold less?
I wrote, in Anglesey, a roll of
The names of the generous:
Within the roll is the name of Rhys,
Followed by the name of Elis.

A noble lamb to the men
Is Rhys, but against tyrants.
It is not easy to obtain
Any sullen payment from Rhys ap John.
In Maesyfaidd he is rooted,
And these roots, Rhys, give gifts,
Each root in its turn.
Rhys is the ash and the cherry tree,
An oak tree from the elders,
And its branches cover the countryside,
Every branch like the body of Pasgen
Wearing steel upon a white shoulder.

He came to the moon of Adam,
He came for the faerie wine.
The gracious blessing came to Rhys
As it stands for Elis Hol.
From whatever country, be they French or Irish,
From whatever land they come,
Elis says, "Rhys, give him this".
Rhys says, "Elis, don't stint".
The wisdom that Elis creates
Will come to her son many a month.
The word of Rhys is wise and witty,
The blessings of Rhys upon Morys his son.

Automobile Historique

A useful twelve page article on Innes in the July/August 2004 edition of the now sadly defunct French magazine Automobile Historique with pictures by an old friend of the Scotsman, Bernard Cahier. No doubt you can pick up a copy on Ebay.

Nelly Ridge-Jones

The Fourth of July 1908 saw women grace the new Brooklands track for the first time as Miss Muriel Thompson won the Ladies Bracelet Handicap from Mrs Locke King. Trailing at the back of the field on her brother Arthur's 17.5 horse power Sunbeam came Miss Nelly Ridge-Jones, daughter of London Welsh surgeon Thomas Ridge-Jones. Now Nelly may not be the most talented Welsh woman to take part in a motor-race but she must surely have been the first!

Book of the Month

Back in the late fifties eighteen year old Kevin Brownlow and sixteen year old Andrew Mollo started work on an ambitious film to portray a Britain that had been defeated by Hitler and was now ruled by the Blackshirts. Eight years and £7000 later they finished their film. This book tells the story of how It Happened Here was made and the controversy that surrounded its launch.

Part of the film was made in New Radnor and dozens of local people acted as extras, the leading role of Pauline Murray was also taken by a local woman, Mrs Jobson - the village doctor's wife.

This is a refreshing book and a fine companion to the DVD of the film. The film itself is one of the great war films, the fact that it was made by two young men for a pittance - the trailer for the American release cost more than the film itself! - a miracle.

Radnorshire Bardic Poems, 23

This wedding ode by Lewis Glyn Cothi was addresed to Hywel ab Ystyfn of New Radnor and Sioned Havard.

No 159 Wedding Ode to Hywel ab Ystyfn and Sioned Havard

Who are the roots of Maesyfaidd, who are generous?
The race of Elystan Glodrydd!
Hywel son of (He will be placed in the roll}
Ystyfn, from the ribcage of Dafydd.

A Dafydd, like the son of Llyr, chief of chieftains,
A second Llywelyn Crug Eryr,
A Philip Dorddu, cultured and dark,
His ancestors were these ancients.

Men who gave deliverence
And protection.
Hywel is the fifth
Of his race, just as generous,
His ardour as splendid,
His steel as brave,
His contenance as fair;
Better than any sheet,
Place around him
The cloak of Urien Rheged,
A blessed coat of mail,
Beli's steel helmet.
He is able in his doublet,
Assured in his jacket,
If his sallet is a sun,
His Corset is rock crystal.
Let his warhorse drive,
Let it slam into the battlefield,
Keeper of township and it's faith,
He makes peace.
I am Hywel's hound,
Bleating loudly,
I call, I sniff out
His trail of generosity.

Let him marry,
Two oaths and a shared honour,
Praise for their wedding
Is given to them,
Sioned's wisdom
Is the fruit of St Bride,
The picture of Luned,
Slim-browed in velvet,
Golden child of the Havards,
A planet in the heavens,
From birth she gave
Orange and claret.
Confident Hywel,
Who gives so generously;
On feast days they're seen,
I go in spite of drink,
The feasts of Mary and Margaret
Two choice Sundays.

A stag runs to the cliff,
A roebuck seeking sanctuary;
To the snug court's floor,
I, myself, come,
like the sea to an embankment,
Or water to Dyfed,
I come so peacefully
To a liberal fortress.
A lifetime wish them
With glory,
Let them multiply,
A ripe bulb.
Good for us like Dwned,
Drawing on doucet wine,
God for their goodness,
Make them the oldest in Christendom.

Hywel, let Faith embroider this marriage
To Sioned the daughter of Tomas;
Two roots within the same refuge,
And in the root, the gift of a shoot.

Dorothea Duff

I’ve posted before that Dorothea Duff is listed on the Mosleyite’s website as being a “racing driver” interned during the war along with other British Union fascists. A little research has brought a few more facts to light, although no details of her motoring career.

Dorothea Reynolds-Peyton was born in London in 1898 to a wealthy family of independent means. In 1920 she married Major Douglas Duff, a partnership that does not seem to have lasted very long. Mrs Duff then seems to have embarked on a life of adventure. She travelled in Tibet without obtaining the necessary permissions, learnt to fly and, perhaps most daringly of all, found employment as an able seaman. This made her something of a minor celebrity especially when she embarked on voyages to and from Australia on the four masted Finnish barque, Ponape.

Like Fay Taylour, Mrs Duff did not join the BUF until after the war had started. She then attracted the attention of the authorities with her efforts to bring together leading pro-German jew haters such as Mosley, Maule Ramsay and Domville in the anti-war movement. So nothing on Mrs Duff’s racing activities or her life after the war, she certainly seems the type of upper-class adventuress who would be attracted to the thrills and spills of the track.