As long ago as the 15th century an ancestor whom I have been reading about lately—Ivor Hael—appears to have been celebrated particularly for his support of the Eisteddfodau of that period and of music in general. Later on, my grandfather and father always did their best to promote the idea of the Eisteddfod, and on several occasions presided at those gatherings. I, personally, consider the Eisteddfod a great institution.

One of the reasons why many of our English friends do not support Eisteddfodau, and are inclined to speak slightingly of them, is because of the religious side which commences with the Gorsedd; but I think if our friends paid a little more attention to it, and attended oftener, they would not be inclined to ridicule the institution.

An Eisteddfod, anywhere, is a very interesting event, but one at Pontypridd seems to be of all others the most interesting. Pontypridd itself is full of reminiscences of old and modern Wales. On that very stone—the Rocking Stone—on the hill where some of us have been to-day, some very earnest bards, no doubt, at different times had their seats, and it does not require a very vivid imagination to picture on that stone one of those unfortunate bards that were left after the Massacre of the Bards of Edward.

Then we have not far away the remains of the old monastery of Pen Rhys, where tradition says rested Ap Tudor, or at all events to whom the monastery was erected. At that very place, that great terror of England and of the Normans—Owen Glendower—who was at that time residing at Llantrisant, was stated to have presided at an Eisteddfod soon after his incursion into Wales. Great bardic addresses were delivered there, and one, written to Sir John Morgan of Tredegar, is now in the archives of Tredegar.

Coming to later times, we have Cadwgan of the Battleaxe, who was supposed to have been sharpening his battleaxe at the time he was going down the Rhondda, so that it must have been pretty sharp by the time he arrived at his destination.

There is at the present moment a wave of music-hall melodies passing over the country, and I think it is one of the duties of the Eisteddfodau to try to counteract the music-hall fancy, now so prevalent. Not many days ago, I was reminded of an incident in which a lady asked a friend whether he was fond of music, and he replied "Yes, if it is not too good." Unfortunately, that is the opinion of about one-half of the civilized world.

The aim of the Eisteddfod is to patronise good music which, combined with high art, has a tendency, as the Latin poet puts it, to soften manners and assuage the natural ruggedness of human nature.

Eisteddfod, Pontypridd,
July 31st, 1893.

Miniature Eisteddfodau, one of which we are celebrating, are most interesting, as being a sort of prelude to the great National Eisteddfod which takes place annually. There is something peculiarly interesting in these essentially Welsh gatherings, because however much we who live on this side of the Rumney may, from legislative causes, be considered English, we never hear of an Eisteddfod taking place on the other side of Offa's Dyke, which in my opinion is the boundary of Wales.

Offa's Dyke was formerly a great mound and ditch erected by King Offa somewhere in the year 900 or thereabouts, as a boundary between Wales and England, and it ran from the mouth of the Wye to Chepstow. We seldom hear of an Eisteddfod taking place on the other side of the dyke. It is true there are the great Choral Festivals, but those are festivals held in the grand Cathedrals, at which very grand company assemble, and where some of the most celebrated singers sing; they are not competitive in any sense. Here we have competitions, not so much for the prizes as for the honour of the thing, for the honour of the Welsh nation, and for the advancement of music and art in Wales.

Risca,
October 5th, 1896.