AN EISTEDDFOD
No one who knows and loves Wales will have failed to be present at some
time or another at that most interesting and curious ceremony known as
an Eisteddfod.
The name simply means a “sitting,” and probably refers, not to the
spectators, but to the “chairing” of the bard, which forms a chief part
in the proceedings.
These gatherings, for the purpose of preserving the poetry and music of
the country, are held all over the land; but each year a great national
Eisteddfod is held at some convenient centre; and of this notice is
published a year and a day beforehand.
At the appointed time, before crowds of spectators, the trumpets are
sounded, and the candidates are presented for the “degree” of bard. For
this they have to pass tests of various kinds, poetical and literary,
which are judged then and there. Then the “bards” present their
addresses to the audience--a poem, a prose composition, a song, as the
case may be. Musical competitions form a very marked feature of the
contest. From far and near the country choirs flock in, and rival each
other in choral and solo singing, until one is adjudged the prize.
Other competitors play the harp or violin, and when the contest is
decided, the great ceremony of “chairing the bard” begins. A “chair
subject” having been previously set for competition, the winner is
solemnly conducted to a chair of carved oak, a naked sword is held over
his head, and he is greeted with the blare of trumpets as the bard. A
concert, given by well-known singers, closes the proceedings, which
have often lasted for two or three days.
[Illustration: CARNARVON CASTLE. _Page 10._]
This ceremony dates from very far-off times. It may, indeed, be found
in some form in the time of that wonderful King Arthur of whom you have
all heard.
He, as you know, was King of Britain in the “days before history,” and
at his Court it was the custom to set tests of valour to his knights.
Once he set seven of them to find fair Olwen, daughter of Thornogre
Thistlehair, chief of the Giants, and they were given a year and a day
for their quest. Of the many wonderful adventures that befell them
you may read in a delightful collection of Welsh stories called the
“Mabinogion,” or “Book for Girls and Boys.”
At another Yule-tide his nephew, Sir Gawayne, was put to a more severe
test. A Green Knight of immense stature rode into the dining-hall of
the King, and dared any knight present to give him, who was armed only
with a holly-stick, a blow with an axe, on the condition that he should
receive a blow in return a year and a day after the event.
Sir Gawayne proved himself the only one who was not too dismayed at
such a condition, and with one good blow cut off the Green Knight’s
head. The latter, however, merely picked it up, and held it aloft, upon
which the head, opening its eyes and addressing Sir Gawayne, said:
“Look you, be ready as you have promised, and seek me till you find me.
Get you to Green Chapel a year and a day from now, there to receive a
blow on New Year’s Eve.”
The adventures of Sir Gawayne must be read elsewhere. They form the
subject of a fine English poem of the fourteenth century, and were
certainly of the nature of a test of courage and endurance.
By the sixth century the Eisteddfod seems to have become more of a test
of poetical and musical talent than of knightly skill and prowess.
Those who proved themselves worthy at the yearly gathering were classed
as bards, and were given the right of entry into the castles of all
Welsh barons and Princes. At one of the earliest of these meetings
Gwynedd, Prince of North Wales, in order to show how superior vocal
music was to that performed on instruments, offered a prize to the
bards who should swim over the Conway.
Eagerly the test was accepted, but when they reached the farther bank
the unfortunate harpists found their strings were ruined by the water,
while the singers were merely braced up to even more successful efforts
than before.
In the twelfth century we hear of a very notable Eisteddfod held at
Caerwys, now a little country-town, hidden away on a high tableland
among the hills, but notable in former days as the favourite residence
of the last Llewelyn. It was his ancestor, Griffith, who held there a
gathering, “to which there repaired all the men of Wales and also some
from England and Scotland,” says the proud historian of the event.
And another is described as taking place at Cardigan Castle, where
assembled many bards, harpers, and minstrels, “the best to be found in
all Wales.”
In the last century this interesting old custom, which had become much
neglected, was revived, and now almost every Welsh town can boast of
its own little Eisteddfod, in which the various choirs of church and
chapel, the plough-boy poet and the clever school-child, all play
their part in keeping alive that spirit of poetry and music which is
characteristic of the national character of Wild Wales.