Through the eyes of the press: The modern National Eisteddfod’s first 25 years

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The First Eisteddfod's Pavillion, Aberdare 1861

The national Eisteddfod in its current form had a shaky enough start – not only because of the arguments towards the end of the 1850s, but also because of the weather, which had a dramatic impact on the first festival, held in Aberdare in 1861, causing considerable damage to the Pavilion, or the ‘teyrnbabell’ as it was known during the period.

According to the North Wales Chronicle, dated 24 August 1861, “ A spacious marquee with seats to contain 6000 people had been specially created for the occasion on Hirwaun Common, near the town, at an expense of several hundreds of pounds. But on Sunday last, during the prevalence of a strong westerly gale, the noble structure , with the proofing and supports, was completely destroyed, and the whole expensive decorations exposed to the merciless storm, which was at its height about one o’ clock the same day. The scene of the debris was most discouraging to those who had bestowed so much attention upon the building, and their hopes for a time entirely disappeared. However, the patriotic spirit of the promoters was not in the least daunted and theu at once employed a large force to convey the materials to the Market Hall, where it was decided the meeting should take place.”

And it is obvious that the Eisteddfod was a great success with its visitors, as one of the correspondents for Baner ac Amserau Cymru wrote in his column on 28 August:

“Ni fum mewn Eisteddfod Genedlaethol erioed o’r blaen; ond hyderwy, y caf y pleser o fod mewn llawer un etto. Da genyf fod Eisteddfod Genedlaethol Aberdâr wedi syrthio i’r fath ddwylaw galluog. Os na wneir rhywbeth yn effeithiol yn Aberdâr, nis gwneir ef yn unrhyw dref yng Nghymru yn bresennol. Yr oedd anffawd y tent yn ddigon i wangaloni y calonau dewr, ond meddianodd yr Aberdariaid eu hunain yn gampus yng ngwyneb y cyfan.”

(I had not attended a national Eisteddfod before, but I very much hope to attend many more in the future. I am pleased that (the organising of) the Aberdare National Eisteddfod fell into such able hands. If something can’t be done effectively in Aberdare, it cannot be done in any Welsh town at presenr. The problem with the tent was enough to dishearten the strongest of hearts, but the Aberdarites organised themselves excellently.)

Carmarthen Eisteddfod 1867

By the mid 1860s, the Eisteddfod had been held alternately in north and south Wales for a few years, and was undoubtedly growing in stature as even The Times sent down one of its special correspondents from London to cover proceedings. In a letter to Baner ac Amserau Cymru in September 1867, following the Carmarthen Eisteddfod – where the Crown was presented for the first time – Y Gohebydd (The Correspondent), John Griffith, remarked. Note the use of English in the Welsh copy, as was fashionable in Welsh writing during the second half of the nineteenth century:

“Y mae Eisteddfod Fawr 1867 yng Nghaerfyrddin wedi bod, ar y cyfan, yn success; ac oni bai i’r tywydd droi allan yn anffafriol – yn neillduol y diwrnod olaf – y gwlaw mawr yn tywallt yn hidl drwy do’r babell – oni bai hyn, buasai Eisteddfod Caerfyrddin , y mae’n ddiamheuol yn troi allan, nid yn unig yn success ond yn grand success. . . Y mae’r Eisteddfod . . . wedi dyfod rhwng pobpeth – a defnyddio term Americanaidd – wedi dyfod yn “big thing” – yn mighty big thing...”

“The Great Eisteddfod of 1867 in Carmarthen has been, overall, a success; and other than the unfavourable weather – particularly the final day – with the heavy rain pouring through the roof of the tent – other than this, the Carmarthen Eisteddfod, undoubtedly has turned out, not only a success but a grand success… The Eisteddfod… has become through everything – to use an American term – has become a ‘big thing’ – a mighty big thing…”

Maybe the Eisteddfod was a ‘mighty big thing’ in Carmarthen that year, but follwoing this success, the Eisteddfod was held in north Wales for a number of years after 1867 – until the 1881 Merthyr Tydfil festival, held almost fifteen years later.

Wrexham Eisteddfod, 1876

In 1876, the Eisteddfod was held in Wrexham for the first time – home of this year’s National Eisteddfod, of course. And like many of the other Eisteddfodau in the town, this was a festival to remember.

For the first time in the history of the modern Eisteddfod, there was a Black Chair. The winning poet, Taliesin o Eifion, Thomas Jones, had died on the very evening his work had been sent to Wrexham, and his final words were, “Ydyw’r awdl wedi ei danfon yn saff?” (Has the Awdl been sent safely?)

As is typical of the style of the papers during this period, the report in Baner ac Amserau Cymru on 30 August, is highly emotional and colourful, noting that people would still be reminiscing about the 1876 Eisteddfod half a century later, because of the Black Chair.

The report describes Madame Edith Wynne singing Dafydd y Garreg Wen’ on the Pavilion stage:

“Ac yn enwedig yr olygfa pan y ciliodd ein Pencerddes i’r tu ôl i’r gadair, wedi “tori i lawr” a’i llwyr orchfygu gan ei theimlad nes methu myned dim yn mhellach! pan y safai y beirdd yn rhes o bobtu i’r gadair, yn fudion, a’r dagrau yn burstio allan yn ddistaw, ac yn rhedeg yn afonydd ar hyd eu gruddiau; dagrau y Barwnig o Wynnstay, yr hwn a adwaenai y bardd cadeiriol yn dda, yn syrthio fel pys o’i lygaid, nes yr oedd llawes côt Hwfa Môn, yr hwn a ddigwyddai fod ar y pryd yn sefyll yn agosaf ato ar un llaw, yn wlyb trwyddynt.”

(And especially the scene when our Pencerddes retreated to behind the chair, having ‘broken down’, totally overcome with emotion, so much so that she could not go any further! When the poets stood in a row beside the chair, speechless, with tears bursting quietly and running like rivers across their cheeks; the tears of Baron Wynnstay, who knew the chaired poet well, falling like peas from his eyes, until the sleeve of Hwfa Môn’s coat, who happened to be standing closest to him on one side, was soaked through.)

The Eisteddfod had never seen anything like it, and it would be many years before the black shroud would be placed over the arms of the Eisteddfod Chair again, in Birkenhead, 1917, when Ellis Evans, Hedd Wyn, won the Chair.

Birkenhead Eisteddfod, 1878

By the end of the decade, the Eisteddfod was a large-scale event, with thousands of visitors flocking to the Pavilion annually, so much so that in 1878, with the Eisteddfod held in Bikenhead, Y Genedl Gymraeg reported:

“Yr Eisteddfod ydyw y pwnc y dyddiau hyn. Mawr yw’r siarad sydd am yr Eisteddfod Genedlaethol. Pa fan bynag y bydd i chwi fyned, yr ydych yn siwr o glywed gair am yr Eisteddfod – miloedd yn bwriadu mynd i Birkenhead, a miloedd, oherwydd caethiwed, yn gorfod aros gartref.”

(The Eisteddfod is the main conversation piece these days. There is much talk about the National Eisteddfod. Wherever you go, you’re sure to hear about the Eisteddfod – thousands aiming to go to Birkenhead, and thousands, due to confinement, having to stay at home.)

And to reiterate the point and the need for people of all backgrounds and ages to have a chance to visit the Eisteddfod, the article notes:

“Grand idea fyddai i’r masnachwyr gau eu masnachdai am un diwrnod... Chwarae teg i’r counter-jumpers gael un diwrnod o holiday yn yr Eisteddfod Genedlaethol. Masnachwyr Cymru, os bydd i chwi ganiatau un dydd i’ch young men and young ladies, bydd iddynt eich bendithio tra byddant byw.”

(It would be a grand idea for the traders to close their trading-houses for one day... It would be good for the counter-jumpers to have one day’s holiday in the National Eisteddfod. Traders of Wales, if you allow your young men and young ladies one day, they will bless you for thes rest of their lives.)

And as we reach the end of our first look at the Eisteddfod through the eyes of the press, we return to Aberdare where our journey began, and where it ends with a report from Y Genedl Gymreig on 2 September 1885, outlining the preparations in the town of Aberdare for the Eisteddfod’s visit:

“Yr oedd y paratoadau ar gyfer yr Eisteddfod Genedlaethol eleni yn bobpeth allenid ddymuno. Bu Aberdar wrthi am wythnosau yn golchi ei gwyneb ac yn trwsio a pharatoi ei hun i ro’i derbyniad gwir dywysogaidd i un o brif sefydliadau y genedl. Yr oedd y galwad am wasanaeth y painters a’r paper hangers y fath, fel nas gellid, ym mhell cyn diwedd yr wythnos flaenorol i’r Eisteddfod sicrhau gwasanaeth un ohonynt am gariad nac arian. Yr oedd golwg hardd ar brif heolydd y dref a’r amgylchedd yn gynar dydd Llun Awst 24ain, y lle yn llawn bywyd, a’r banerau o bob lliw a maint a llun, yn chwifio yn yr awyr.”

(The preparations for this year’s National Eisteddfod were everything you could wish for. For weeks, Aberdare washed its face, and mended and prepared herself to give a princely reception to one of the nation’s most important organisations. There was such call for the services of the painters and the paper hangers, that it was impossible to employ the services of one of them for love or money the week before the Eisteddfod. The main roads of the town were beautiful early on Monday 24 August, the place vibrant, with banners of all shapes, sizes and colours fluttering in the wind.)

But, the paper’s attitude towards attempts by local businesses to benefit from the visit of the Eisteddfod was very different – something which is welcomed by the Eisteddfod, its visitors and the press and media today. In 1885, the report in Y Genedl Gymreig was very clear:

“Drwg gennym i rai o fasnachwyr y lle ddangos hunangarwch a diffyg chwaeth beiadwy dros ben, trwy gymeryd mantais ar ein gwyl genedlaethol, rhai i hysbysu yr esgidiau di gyffelyb oedd ganddynt ar werth, eraill eu cig moch, ac eraill eu defnyddiau dillad. Ni welid ar lawer o’r banerau yn Cardiff St gymaint ag un arwyddair Eisteddfodol, ac ymddengys y credai rhai mai yr addurn penaf allent roddi ar eu baner oedd llythyrenau eu henwau eu hunain. Tybient yn ddiau mai peth pwysig i’r miloedd dyeithriaid a gyrchent i’r Eisteddfod o ddydd i ddydd oedd cael eu gwneyd yn hysbys o’u bodolaeth hwy. Wfft i’r fath fodachod.”

(We are disappointed that some of the town’s traders promoted themselves and showed a lack of taste, by taking advantage of our national festival, some to advertise their unrivalled shoes for sale, others their bacon, and others their material for clothes. There was no Eisteddfod motto on a large number of the banners in Cardiff Street, and it appears that some believed that the greatest decoration they could place on their banner were the letters of their own names. They felt that it was important for the thousands of visitors coming to the Eisteddfod from day to day to be made aware of their existence.)

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