David Williams, Bard of Eminence, & Coal Owner/

Description

As a coal pioneer Mr. David Williams met with only ordinary success, but it was a great Welshman that he will best, remembered. He had a great liking for bards and preferred few things better in life than to preside at an eisteddfod. In this position, or as, chairman over other matters, his facility in rhyming, in telling a good, story or indulging in playful humour made him a special favourite with the multitude. He had a sunny side to his character, and he was always ready to help an eisteddfod either with his money or by his genial presence. Another good feature of his character was his homeliness. He knew every one of his, workers, and called them by name, and knew their families and their ailments. In those days there was not much, distance between employers and employed. The link was a human, one, of kindred sympathies, and when any trouble arose it was, settled between owner and, workers on the spot.

He was owner of many, local papers in Aberdare such as the Cambrian Daily and “Y Gwladgarwr” a Welsh paper in which he encouraged local poets to publish their poetry in the paper. The “Cambrian Daily Leader” was, then published by the Swansea Press Ltd., Swansea. Mr. Williams and his late father expended about £12,000 in establishing the “Cambrian Daily Leader,” which for, many years espoused Liberal principles in the Principality. Owing to gross mismanagement the paper became defunct, after Mr. Williams had transferred it to other hands, in consequence of the serious expense it entailed on him. The Liberal party in Swansea, after the removal of the offices of the Leader from Cardiff, allowed it to expire from a fit of impecuniosity.

He excelled as a poet and Welsh litterateur, and this gave him a commanding influence over the ordinary working class, and a status amongst the gentry who owned the industries in the earlier days. He had patronage if the Bruce’s of Dyffryn, the Fothergill’s of Abernant, and his ability and character won the confidence and respect of that great industrialist Crawshay Bailey, Aberaman.

Leading figure of Aberdare.

He took a leading part in the protest, against the report on conditions in Aberdare as given by the vicar in the Blue Book of 1847. He presided over, most of the public meeting held in the town in those early years. He took position as a Poor Law Guardian, a member of the old Highway Board; a director of the Gas Co.; a member of the Local Board of Health; and equally ready with any other movement that contemplated the good of Aberdare.

The Welsh Language (shorten version)

It is a chosen language, and the wisest language, - an ancient language,
A unique, most exquisite language.
From the point of view of Poetic Inspiration, one of the earliest languages,
And our language, is the language of our God.

An amiable language, which will last while the world exists, - and the treatment,
Of its letters as well,
In the case of a baby in its early years,
“Mum and Dad” is what he records for a long time.

The language of measuring, and the language of customs, - and the language of number,
A wondrous language undoubtedly,
The language of nature, and the language of names,
Man, and his God – both.

It is brilliantly wise, and the language of companions, - prominently,
The language of the feelings of the heart:
It sends out clear signals,
Within the seat of this bosom.
(Literal translation from the original Welsh)

The Wedding
Of Mr Howell Williams, Pant Y Gerdinen, and
Miss A.M. Gilbert, Aberdare, May 2nd, 1850.

God joined these for the sake of goodness – with a ring.
And the phrases of prayer.
May you have a long life as parents,
May a good life and good taste be your lot.

Iago Emlyn and Alaw Goch
In a letter of November 19, 1851, Iago Emlyn sent the following,
Englyn to Alaw

Alaw Goch – on a Rail journey – of good metal
I shall come to you to receive an englyn,
To Aberdar to call with the man,
And his welcoming place, Emlyn will not go.

Alaw’s Reply.

To Emlyn there is a welcome to come - often.
For Dafydd it is an honour,
To have him, what greater succour,
Can there be beneath the shade of his bush?
Oh! that would be a feast.

“The Dawn”
A monthly magazine edited by Robin Ddu Eryri, 1851

“Y Wawr” has been, published, it is wise to wait, - its progress,
Fine and famous, is imminent,
And it drives the black hour of night’s domain,
To flee from having to appear.

The pure worlds of nature most unique – the host of the skies,
And all beneath it I see,
The strongest of moral men,
Their beloved names I find in this.

To its most famous philosophy, - it is a Dawn,
???Truly departing from accentuation,
The timing of Music and Strict Metre verse,
Is the proper table of its poetry.

A book entirely from the lap of labour, - with a summery,
Cream a part of it also,
And a poet’s voice for the good of the world,
Is the fair “Gwawr” to cover the earth.

Whilst suffocating jealousy, - healthily we gild,
With love, its owner,
For a true, bejewelled inspiration,
The dawn of our world is, found to be a leader.

Islwyn
The following was composed after hearing,
The Rev. W. Thomas (Islwyn) preaching, February 2, 1852

Islwyn is as gentle as the glove – and his talent,
Is attractive and mellifluous,
The language and learning of a pleasant philosophy,
Simultaneously running into the breach.

His witty proverbs, - his hand gestures,
His voice and his eyes,
In his appearance is the image of God,
A man of wide-ranging bits of advice.

A pleasant, attractive, and wise man – a quiet one
Giving leadership to the unwise,
His words we receive just like refined gold,
And his memory is a cell of wealth.

The Aberdare Garden.
A Volume of the Winning Compositions.
of Carw Coch’s Eisteddfod, Aberdare, 1853

I love the garden of Aberdar - on its fruit,
I gorge myself generously,
This, one is abundant, with the bushes of summer,
Most appropriate and amongst the sweetest.

It is a long garden, this, one reaches –the noblest,
And the keenest of great men,
And its smiles are upon the meekest, - Great is its width, -
And, Oh! so cheerful.

Aberdar with enthusiastic words, - most genial,
The stories about past ages,
Complete and true, and all weaving,
Music through all the branches.

And a poet who is chief gardener. – concerning Gwilym.
Mai, see, champion of champions,
Yes, a truly beloved printer,
The man of song – that is the man.

The Death of
Margaret, wife of Mr William Williams, Ynyslwyd Cottage, Aberdare
October 24th, 1855.

My body’s temple does not feel – neither coldness,
Nor live atmosphere, nor excitement,
I have gone from the world, I have had a cradle in gravel,
You will come to me again in the future.

The Death of
Mr. Henry Thomas, who fell down a part of Cwmdare Mine
October 2, 1856

Oh! cold of complexion, he came to his end, - an end,
Which was painful, alas! Sorrowful,
Falling, without complaining to the captive
Bed of sudden death.

My Father’s Death.
Mr. David Williams senior died in Ynys Cynon,
March 14th, 1857, 82 years of age (Shortened version)

Oh! My, Father, loyal of heart,
Rich and honest of heart,
Entertaining was his tongue,
Not particularly brave and well renowned,
Yet his ready reply
I would say, was second to none.
A gentle father, pleasant and ready to help.
He was, and has been, it is difficult to exist.

And live after him without grief,
(Short was his journey) in Aberdar,
Oh! the memory of those limited days,
In his appearance, and his piercing agony.
Pain constantly following him –

Great Meeting of Welsh Bards at,
Aberdare 18th July 1857
(Shortened version)

On Tuesday, the seventh instant, a grand Eisteddfod was, held at the above-named place. About ten o'clock, a.m., a vast multitude, together with the Aberaman amateur choir, met in the great square between the Gwron office and the Boot Hotel, with the intention of meeting the Chairman, the Rev David James, Rector of Panteg, near Pontypool, but were disappointed.

Mr. L. W. Lewis, Llew Llwyfo, delivered an appropriate speech on the occasion, after which a procession was, formed, and preceded by the band they walked to the tent, which had been prepared in a field at Heol y Felin, belonging to Mr. William Williams, Stag Inn (Y Carw Coch).

The audience wore an exceedingly dull aspect for more than an hour, and everyone thought it would be a very flat affair; however, the worthy and respected chairman was at last announced, and entered amidst the most rapturous applause, in the meantime the meeting was kept alive by another speech in Llew Llwyfo's usually excellent style and a few tunes on the Welsh harp; after which David Williams, Esq Ynys Cynon, (Alaw Goch), proposed that the Rev. D. James, take the chair, was seconded by Thomas Joseph, Esq.

An address to the Chairman was then, read by the Secretary and was, responded to in a most eloquent style. The Chairman's speech drew forth the most enthusiastic applause, at the conclusion of which the following bards addressed the meeting and recited Welsh stanzas, viz., Gwilym Teilo, Eiddil Glan Cynon, Cynonwyson, Alaw Goch, G. ab Ioan, Ieuan Wyn, Dewi Wyn o Essyllt.

The two o’clock meeting.

Bardd Clydach recited a story between the Idler's Wife and the Hawker in a most humorous manner; Llwyfo sung with the harp, and Mr Thomas Llewelyn played a Welsh air on the triple harp. Then the adjudication of the prizes was, resumed.

The six o’clock meeting.

John Roberts, Esq., opened the proceedings in a pithy and appropriate speech after which the Chairman proceeded to award the remainder of the, numerous, prizes.

In conclusion, the Chairman said that the object of such meetings was to cultivate the Welsh language by offering prizes for the best essays, odes, stanzas, &c., upon certain subjects previously announced and published in the Welsh periodicals, by which a spirit of emulation was, promoted among the literati of Wales. He was happy to tell them that their efforts upon this occasion had not been in vain, as the adjudicators said that many of the compositions received from the competitors were of a very, high character, manifestly evincing that a great amount of labour, time, and talent had been employed upon the different productions.

The meeting then terminated. On the following day, a great, many, were, then admitted to the orders of bards and Ivorite by Mr. Jonathan Reynolds, (Nathan Dyfed), Mr. David Evans, auctioneer, (Dewi Haran), and the veteran Mr. Thomas Williams, (Cilfynydd), boll yn feirdd yn ôl braint a defod Gwent a Morganwg.

Eisteddfod of the Cardiff Ivorites, 1858

Mingling in Cardiff – are, seen,
People of the race of flag - waving Gwalia,
The song of praise is just like that of the cuckoo,
Or the proper tune of the nightingale.

The great and the good are intervening, - to show respect.
To the Brythonic people’s living feat,
The rites of the Ivorite society and its customs,
And the sponsorship of peace to this hall.

I have never seen anything more, dear, - nor a select.
Society with no grumbles,
In this age, in order, to unite the lineage.
There is, I know, no greater work.

The language of our dear mother is “The Transgression,” - and Adam,
Is the dearly wise inheritor,
And his sons, of most fine appearance,
In Eden of proper characteristic.

In adversity, burden, and failure, - the bejewelled
Race of Gomer lie,
Among them, their children will insist.
That the nation shall have its glory.

And this language also is the language of heaven, - the language of God,
And the language of man since his childhood,
Holy angels all together,
Sing praise to God in another world.

The Reverend J. Emlyn Jones (Ioan Emlyn)
After listening to him deliver a Lecture on Oliver Cromwell in Cwmbach, Aberdare,
November 8th, 1858 (shortened version)

Oh, Emlyn, come far more often,
Bearing, always your gems to Cwmbach,
Speak that we may watch.
As a public, the excellent hero. -
The history of a remarkable Leader,
Lively and brave, who deserves praise,
The protector of the disaffected ones,
And the man who was a friend of the weak.
A reformer, a man devoid of vanity,
And a brave man when he bore his sword.
He would drive people who had no mercy,
From the land of the living.

The Llangollen Eisteddfod, 1858.

Llangollen as capital of the world, - and its greatly wise.
Enlightened fellows,
And the very, best men of song,
And confident of appearance also.

Hah! It was a pretty, distant trip for me, - an exile.
From far off to come to it,
But my heart rejoices.
To elevate your language in your company.

The Gorsedd of Bards in Llangollen.

On a white, splendid stone, the truth stands,
A man made of the love of the countries,
The live muse is that which will be.
Of moral warmth beyond measure.

Oh, the awe! And the power of the Gorsedd – this is the,
True muse of true gentry,
From its virtue May there be, shared amongst you,
The generous characteristics of the justices of peace.

John Bunyan
The following englynion were, read by the
Author after listening to a lecture by the
Reverend O. Jones, in Mountain Ash, October 25th, 1858.

Bunyan was a weak man, but a little man – who was prominent,
Full of feeling with no one purer,
Compared to any bishop of famous lineage,
He was a better man twice over.

A sentinel, not a poor wretch, - who was, taken,
Into prison, what next?
With his good sense, the man surprises,
His guardian – aeth yn gwdyn.

He rightly drew mankind’s passion to his attention, - his loss,
And the faulty thoughts,
And sorted them out just as on journeys.
Beneath his pack and not as a false man.

An Address to the President; H. A. Bruce, Esq., M.P.
On September 21st and 22nd, 1859.
(Later Lord Aberdare) (Shortened version)

The soul of the feast, no flannel of a man, - Iestyn.
Sitting there on his own,
A man whose purse patronises music,
This man is a cell, a cage of temperament.

And a man of noble lineage, - seriously wise,
Not lightweight as a breeze,
And a man who has an edge who brings forth honey,
A dignity to which all can give recognition.

He is a man of wisdom, with his journey ahead of him, - one whose furrow,
Is amazingly constant,
Great is his talent, and above the meadow,
High up into the hills he is an honoured man.

To The Victorious Choir
In the Merthyr National Eisteddfod, 1859

This is the Choir which excels.
Here now, for all I know.
You are worthy of receiving a payment.
Without compulsion for the voice gracefully,

Every choir was excellent.
Despite the fact some bring up the rear,
Yet you will receive a response,
Higher – above everyone

The Death
February 4th, 1860, of the wife of the Rev. W. Roberts (Nefydd).

God, give assistance to our Nefydd – beneath the burden,
That is a weight like a mountain,
Despite this, there came the same day,
A true occasion for a Saviour.

An Address to the President; H. A. Bruce, Esq., M.P.
On September 21st and 22nd, 1859.
(Later Lord Aberdare) (Shortened version)

The soul of the feast, no flannel of a man, - Iestyn.
Sitting there on his own,
A man whose purse patronises music,
This man is a cell, a cage of temperament.

And a man of noble lineage, - seriously wise,
Not lightweight as a breeze,
And a man who has an edge who brings forth honey,
A dignity to which all can give recognition.

He is a man of wisdom, with his journey ahead of him, - one whose furrow,
Is amazingly constant,
Great is his talent, and above the meadow,
High up into the hills he is an honoured man.

To The Victorious Choir
In the Merthyr National Eisteddfod, 1859

This is the Choir which excels.
Here now, for all I know.
You are worthy of receiving a payment.
Without compulsion for the voice gracefully,

Every choir was excellent.
Despite the fact some bring up the rear,
Yet you will receive a response,
Higher – above everyone

The Death
February 4th, 1860, of the wife of the Rev. W. Roberts (Nefydd).

God, give assistance to our Nefydd – beneath the burden,
That is a weight like a mountain,
Despite this, there came the same day,
A true occasion for a Saviour.

The Eisteddfod Committee in Shrewsbury, November 14th, 1860.

Eleven members met; and I know that the whole country will be delighted to know that each, and every one of them desired success. But as true as my word, if that be true on reflection, I have never been in a place like Shrewsbury before. In the first instance, there was a fair there during those days. Next, there were horse races there. Thirdly, it was raining. Fourthly, there was no accommodation, nor bed, nor beer, nor food to be, had for any money! Therefore, Gwilym Tawe, Gwilym Mai and I had to reside on the main road from half past twelve until three in the morning, in the company of the men in blue.

Although we were leaving at half past three, by train, and could see a magnificent fire inside the Station, the good man refused to let us inside. We were, therefore allowed to choose whether we wished to freeze or not. Some of us asked the boys in blue (police) for lodging; but they could not accede to our request unless we committed some crime. However, we were not, brought down to that on this occasion. But behold, the clock was striking three, and in a while, we had room to approach the great unused fire in the Station.

Therefore, off went Gwilym Mai and I with the train and we had the pleasure of leaving our kind Gwilym Tawe behind at the mercy of the boys in blue until the morning. I therefore arrived home before three o’clock (in the afternoon) and I was more or less, doubting myself. I left Gwilym Mai in Merthyr. I haven not, heard whether he is dead or alive; but I heard, through Aneurin Fardd, that he saw Gwilym Tawe alive, in Shrewsbury, the following morning. Good lad. That is what it is to be ‘weatherproof,’ isn’t it?

But now for a few verses of poetry-unless the inspiration has been completely chilled.

Oh! I sing the praises of Ynys Cynon- ever more so,
For comforting things,
There were, brought to me aplenty,
Of the graces of peace of this age.

I shall not exist on mercy – the luxuries.
Of the cold outlook of Shrewsbury,
A long time with nowhere to lie down,
Here is an old land – no feast at all!

As for the cold, bare, grey-looking place, - Oh I remember,
Everything, it was not a dream,
With no house or fire to shelter from the cold,
Over a long night, without beer or food.

By stamping one’s cold feet, - I shook,
My soaking wet shoes,
And aching in the presence of the men in blue/
I froze if there is any point in mentioning it.

Again, if ever I go to them, - for good reason
I shall not stay around in a gale,
Oh! I shall travel in better circumstances,
And my woe is that I did not do so previously.

I shall drive some Caravan, - I will take a Stove,
And a sparkling clean little room.
A door which can be, locked, a roof and a fire –
There shall I sleep on my own.

Alaw Goch in London 10/11/1860

Last Monday the above, named liberal gentleman expressed a wish to meet with a few of the friends of the Eisteddfod in London; and a meeting was immediately arranged for the Tuesday evening, where the excellent gentleman received a warm welcome and enthusiasm was, expressed for the Aberdare Eisteddfod.

The meeting was, held in the 'Cambrian Society' room. Gwrgant presided bravely over the meeting and as time passed Alaw Goch’s liberalism and zeal, Hugh Owen Esquire’s seriousness and gentlemanliness, the prudence of the wise Cadvan, the equanimity of the comic author Mr John Morgan and the active enthusiasm of Mr John Griffith, (Eisteddfod member for London) were, displayed.

Gwrgant spoke of the paper war between the poets of the past, and said he was glad to see that things were better at present, that there was a hope that Wales would agree on the matter, and that this was a great joy to the organisation, and that he was determined to support it vigorously.

Alaw Goch gave a short, history of the reformed organisation and showed the need for general unity among the different Welsh counties in the new Senedd.

Mr John Griffith read the resolution of Llangollen and Denbigh’s committees and commented appropriately on them. Hugh Owen, Esq, rose to say that he was very, concerned about the organisation in its new form; in as far as it reached, to the degree that he intended to visit Aberdare during the Eisteddfod with the aim of presenting a scheme to extend the cycle of its operation.

Comments were, made by Mr John Morgan, and then they proceeded to make resolutions. After friendly discussions it was, decided unanimously:

• “That this meeting approves and promises to support Aberdare Eisteddfod."

• “That we wish to see more attention given to the subject of our country’s history “

• “That procedure is established to this end and to give the unsuccessful subjects another tries by the following Eisteddfod."

• “That more prizes are offered for the Historical Essays, to ensure that the works are truly deserving."

• "To establish a society here in London connected to the Eisteddfod, with a committee to include a President, Treasurer and Secretary."

They then went on to elect officers and Gwrgant was appointed President; Hugh Owen, Esquire was appointed Treasurer; Mr J. H. Mills, Secretary; Committee, Messrs’ John Griffith, Walworth; John Morgan, New College; Hugh Williams, (Cadvan ;) William Davies, Sculptor; R. B. Jones, (Berwyn); David Griffiths, formerly of Aberdare; D. S. Jones, (Aaron); W. Roberts, (Boderan); William Griffith, Gray's Inn Road; J. Hughes, (Gelert); Isaac Williams, (Gwilym Ilar) and various others, with the possibility of adding to them. I would like to be able to give more than a sketch of this important meeting, because there was such a strong Welsh emotion which electrified the whole evening, which may be, mainly due to the fact, that each one spoke in the old Welsh tongue? It is obvious that the prevailing wish of each one in the meeting was:

“Tra môr yn fur i'r bur hoff bau,
Y bo i'r hen iaith barhau."

A, few poetic lines were, thrown in which brought, to mind other verses and warmed the heart of each one there. Alaw Goch was, thanked for his, princely generosity towards the Eisteddfod - and Gwrgant received thanks for his dextrous work as chair and Mr John Griffith for his diligence in calling the meeting.
GOHEBYDD


Cawr Cynon (Cynon’s Giant)
Poem by Alaw Goch

Mr William Evans (Cawr Cynon), died on November 15th, 1860, 52 years old. He was the Chief Supervisor of Mines for Anthony Hill, Esq., Plymouth, Merthyr. He was also a very refined and great poet.

It is painful to sing the praises of Cawr Cynon, - a task,
Which almost sinks my heart,
It is a wound which pulls at the heart.
To cry out under the burden of sighs.

The wise Giant, a true colleague, - and poet
Undoubtedly, a true patriot,
A composer of cynghaneddion to the very last,
So easily did this man turn to poetry.

An officer by nature, - a patron
Of literature out of love,
To bestow greatness on gracious virtue,

This is what simmered in his motivation.
Oh! the loss, its extent I cannot – note.
Exactly during the rest of my life,
Behold here the house, on the bank of the Taf-
I do not see William there.

Llun Cawr Cynon (Cawr Cynon’s Portrait)

The Cawr’s Portrait! Happily, would I love – to respect it?
And own it were it possible,
Never will this be truly, acknowledged –
And his image we shall hardly worship.

The Death
December 18, 1860, through falling into canal, and drowning,
near Cardiff, of Mr Benjamin Bowen.
(a) (Meudwy Glan Taf), aged 58.

Ben died with no pillow, - there drowned,
A man who was an asset and a poet,
The wise man left us from Cardiff,
Despite all his talent and his true worth.

For Bowen, who was a steady head, - his death,
Created a stir on the Day of Epiphany: (b)
A man whose journey contained not a word of deception,
Lit up like a solar candle.

(a) (The 12th day after Christmas Day – allusion to great throng at his funeral)?
(b) Bardic name – The Hermit of Glan Taf

The Death
December 22nd, 1860, at 31 years of age, of the dear wife of the Rev. E. Lewis, Vicar of Aberdar. Also, Miss Jennet Wayne, on the 24th, aged 16 years. She was the daughter of T. Wayne, Esq., Y Gadlys, Aberdare

In a grave, lying captive, - sleep,
Dear ones, more is the pity,
And all, despite every nourishment,
In the cold bed of death.

The Reverend T. I. Levi
The following lines were, recited to him after listening to his Lecture on “Nature and the Bible” in Mountain Ash, April 15, 1861

Oh! let us praise him for his attitude – man of God,
With his wise, and wondrous talent,
For the staunch opinion he holds,
And such a sense of consistency.

He united the worlds through the ages, - and he gave out,
Satisfactory signs
Of God’s Word, throughout the whole earth and its meadows,
And the vivacity of the heavenly country.

He united forever all the things of nature – in the hand,
Of the Chief President of everything,
God gave the man his share.
From His Own wise lips.

To the Levite for his great labour, - undoubtedly,
We give thanks profusely,
From his mouth emerged genius, pure,
And moral in all respects.

Glan Alun
The following englynion were, read after listening to Mr Thomas Jones (Glan Alun)’s lecture on “Italy” in Aberdare, May 9th, 1861 (Shortened version)

He traversed the land of Italy, - and its seas,
Of considerable size diligently,
The man’s language a copious payment
To hundreds of people for supporting him.

He illustrated the country and its canvases, - and drove,
The carriage of the ordinary people through it,
Its appearance was, made in our presence,
And Garibaldi built it.

The intricate crises, - and founding,
A freedom from being, imprisoned,
To a weak people who had been weaving
From the depths, of despair, on the verge of death.

The National Eisteddfod July 27th, 1861

The time will soon arrive when this much- looked for gathering will take place. Hirwain Wrgant will be, visited in August next by men who have never, before put foot on Aberdare soil, and by men also of whom Gwalia may well be proud. The Eisteddfod is a very ancient Welsh Institution and has fallen, down to us in a verry, different state to what it was some centuries ago.

Although, as first held, it was a credit to its originators or founders, yet we can look back to a period when Eisteddfod gatherings were a disgrace to the then civilized state of society. The games that were, carried, on in connection with it, and the drunkenness they gave rise to, exercised a very demoralizing influence upon the literati and their admirers. We have, however, a better state of things in our days. The standard of Eisteddfodau has been and is being, raised, and we hope their generous supporters will ever continue to work in this direction.

The friends at Aberdare have worked admirably and are coming out in their preparations for the Eisteddfod in a manner worthy of Welshmen even. Everybody knows what a Welshman can do in his country's cause, and we are glad that we are going to have another proof of his ability in this way in the month of August next. We are, informed by D. Williams, Esq, (Alaw Goch,) that purses of every description, and of very costly material, have been, forwarded by ladies of high standing in England and Wales. A purse from London has been the subject of special remark, and we hope to have the pleasure of a glance at it when suspended from the neck of the winner of the chair in our next National Eisteddfod. We trust our friends will now go ahead with their preparations against the influx of Bards and Philosophers, amongst whom we hope to see Gwilym Hiraethog, Eben Fardd, Emrys, Caledfryn, Islwyn, and hundreds more.

To the Ladies
Who made Prize-Purses for The Aberdare National Eisteddfod, 1861
(Shortened version)

May the ladies have a lifetime of blessing – good,
And diligent ones, for the purses,
And authentically carved images
And scenes and portraits in their style of knitting.

And it was exceptional, to observe in old age, - an over-eagerness.
Truly genuine to match.
All our kindred are as one choir,
And their role to be angels and saints.

Mr. W. Williams (Y Carw Coch)
On the occasion, of breaking his leg, May 1861

Behold, a stroke of bad luck for William – on the parting,
Of his bones whilst in a hurry,
As for a fine servant - his leg, Oh why
Was such a faultless man blighted?

What hero is there more willing? – from his room,
He plans the Eisteddfod.
It is a matter of woe to me, the subject of a frown that he is,
On his bed with an injured member.

From the white spot on its forehead stupid is the foal, - the dragon of the age,
The worst of its kind - that is the enemy,
It took fright, he threw the man –
Y Carw, just as if he were a spider.


Presentation of the Medals Awarded at the National Eisteddfod of 1861. 23rd November 1861

On Tuesday evening last, a number of gentlemen, many of whom had taken an active part in carrying out matters connected with the recent National Eisteddfod held in our town, assembled at the Stag Hotel, Mill Street, for the purpose of presenting the successful competitors with the medals won at the Eisteddfod, which, it will be recollected, were not handed over to them at that time, but retained in order to have the names, &c., engraved upon them. This event was celebrated by a supper, which was provided in a manner that reflected the highest credit upon the host, Mr. W. Williams, (Carw Coch,) who has always taken a prominent part in the promotion of Eisteddfodau, and proved himself a true, friend to “Cymru, Cymro, a Cymraeg." The cloth having been, removed, Mr Abel Seth Jones proposed, and Mr T.H. Evans seconded, that D. Williams, Esq, of Ynyscynon, should take the chair, which he accordingly did amidst loud cheering. Mr T. H. Evans was, afterwards voted to the vice-chair. Mr Williams said he felt sorry he had been, called upon to preside, as he was then suffering from indisposition, but under the circumstances he expressed his readiness to do his best. He was glad to see so many present, on the occasion, and thanked them for their attendance. He was sorry time would not permit him to give a history of the late Eisteddfod but would lay before them a few particulars with reference to their financial condition.

He had distributed ninety-seven collecting books only 40 of which had been, returned, some of them without any subscriptions entered, and in some cases, owing to the senders having enclosed private notes, he had to pay the postage. The sum collected from this source amounted to £80 8s. He then alluded to the accident that befell their tent, which had cost them something like £255. Had this accident not occurred they would have been, in a position to hand over a large, sum to the committee of the forthcoming Eisteddfod. The total amount paid out was £995 17s. 10d., and the amount received was £879 12s. 10d. At one time he expected they would have lost £500 through the destruction of the tent; but rather than disappoint the public he would have expended £1,000, but after, all he was glad to find that their loss was only £100 or so.

The chairman then remarked that the Prince of Wales would become of age next year, and if they were only to be unanimous, they might prevail upon him to preside at one of the Eisteddfod meetings, or at least to become a patron. The president further announced that, owing to the compositions sent in on the poem on Neath Abbey having been, mislaid, they were consequently, not; decided upon at the Eisteddfod, but during the evening, Mr Aneurin Jones, (Aneurin Fardd,) would read his adjudication upon them.

The chairman then called upon Aneurin Fardd, who proceeded to give his adjudication on the contributions of the competitors for the £5 guineas offered for the best Cywydd ar Fynachlog Nedd. Mr Aneurin Jones stated that four compositions on this subject had been, put in his hands, but he regretted that neither of them merited the prize. He therefore recommended that the matter should remain open to competition until the Eisteddfod of 1862. The adjudicator explained with some, minuteness the deficiencies which characterised the productions referred to and expressed his sorrow at being, obliged to disappoint the writer.

The chairman said they had received an offer from North Wales for the contributions and he should be glad to hear any suggestions as to what had better be, done.

Mr Price observed that that was a matter which had better be, submitted to the Local Committee, and after; some more discussion it was, proposed by Mr. Philip John, and seconded by the Rev Thomas Price, "That a committee be held on the following morning, at 11 o'clock. This was subsequently carried, out. At this point Mr. Price stated that a, few of his friends, had determined to present Mr. D. Williams, Esq, (Alaw Goch,) with a gold medal and a suitable address, as a mark of respect for the great interest he has taken in the affairs of Yr Eisteddfod. There were several, influential gentlemen had intimated a desire to be present on, the, occasion of this presentation, and he a felt pleasure in informing them that a public meeting would be, held in the Temperance Hall, early in the New Year, for the purpose of carrying, out their intentions.

Mr Williams remarked that this was quite unexpected on his part, and, he feared, quite un-deserved. (No, no.) After this the proceedings of the evening partook of a new character. The well-known, harpist Mr Thomas Lewis, played a variety of beautiful Welsh airs, and Gwilym ab loan also delighted the company by his excellent singing. Mr Abel S. Jones contributed his quota to the harmony of the evening, by singing with his wonted fullness of voice, "I am a Friar of orders Grey."

The Eisteddfod Adjudicators, 1861

With hope comes our Eben, - the Poet
Of pure learning, full of inspiration,
And truth for everyone emanates from his mouth,
Chosen man, - a chief for Athens.

Emrys is conqueror of many, - Aneurin.
Truly brave, and genuine,
Men of quality, the best of their genus,
It is a great gift to have three of this kind.

Without, pausing, there are three again still alive, -
Llawdden, A Prince of learning, a true Welshman,
Creuddynfab, clearly gifted is he,
And Alun under fair sail.

Giving honour to essays will be – the Adjudicators.
With no diversion, pure gifts,
To the utmost end of knowledge,
Each one magnificent not a false rascal.

Gwenynen Gwent 1862
Lines composed after seeing the portrait of Lady Llanofer in Llandovery College

A Lady and the picture of an acorn – coloured,
And the flowers of a gorse bush,
And then the mark of a Bee,
A poem and its stanza, a feast of honey for its tip.

A bee, from its mouth, never ceases – to give honey,
To the thousands of people without stopping,
She unites her body and soul,
To the plea of the Welshman and his party.

No one knows of one of great endowment – as kinsman.
Crowning everything constantly,
As this one does regularly,
With her country’s complaint comforted in her lap.

Outstandingly cheerful - her heart
Does not cherish narrow mindedness,
A hand with strength, and all for our sake,
A gentle age of compassion.

We do not have someone of breeding to plead for us – to compare with this one,
Without constant tiredness,
Man’s privileges on hill and meadow,
The same outlook, a part of her endowment.

And the picture of a poet full of dignity, - and an
entire world of education concerning the world of poetry,
The mark of her cheek, soul, and grace,
And the select mother of society.

A Visit to Llanofer 1862

Last week I had the honour of seeing this fine place, the residence of Lord and Lady Llanofer. One would think that nature was at its best when it designed and beautified this place. The expanse of its plain, the pattern of its roads, the frequency of its lakes, the peculiarity of its wells, together with its variety of trees of every species, reveals taste and nature as if they ran hand in hand. In addition, all the buildings have been, constructed of oak and precious stonework only, and one may appropriately call this place an ageless stronghold of a castle. Here also we have the image of the Welsh language on everything within and without, pictures of oak leaves on the panels.

Welsh poetry in almost, every room, all the servants within the house and outside speaking the ancient and famous dear old language, and it is more than likely that here exists the only Lady under the sun who can speak, write, compose; poetry and adjudicated, through the medium of Welsh. I have never encountered gentility of such perfection in any part of the world: majesty, modesty, and unspeakable wealth coexisting, together with a feeling of pity and the generous hand of a truly warm heart.

But I must be silent lest I become too long-winded, with a line or two of poetry, having last one word, may Gwenynen Gwent live forever, and let all people echo, Amen.

The Death of Eben Fardd
(1802 17th February 1863, “Alaw Goch died on the 28th of Feb 1863)
Namely, Mr Ebenezer Thomas, Clynnog Fawr, in Arfon.

Oh, Our, father, deprived - is our age.
Of the fair poet it has seen,
Death has placed its expansive net,
In his gateway, this man has been, sacrificed.

Our tower was Eben, and our father, - and a great man.
With a talent like honey, full of compassion.
And a man who was a cell of love,
And his delight was the success of his country.

A famous poet was our dear poet, - our Eben,
There is no hope any longer.
To expect one to compose a complete poem, and a festival,
Of appetite in preparation for his task.

The Death and Funeral.

The obituary of Alaw Goch “
(Taken from the “Y Gwladgarwr”)

Last Sunday morning, along with the day’s breeze, was, borne the sad news that Alaw Goch had died. The news struck the feelings of the inhabitants with the same suddenness and fright as would a thunderbolt or the tremor of an earthquake. Half the day passed before half the people were able to convince themselves that the heartrending news was true. Their hope was that it was an unfounded rumour or, at least, that he had lapsed into a coma and that doctors and time would restore him to his usual good health. The previous Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday he had been wandering around his worksites, conversing cheerfully and enthusiastically with scores of his workers. He had driven through the main streets of the town in his carriage, he had been making kind enquiries concerning how a number of his host of friends were faring and had spent considerable time in the office of the newspaper, ‘Y Gwladgarwr’ (The Patriot), on Thursday and Friday, discussing keenly and zestfully the poets and writers of his beloved land of his fathers. The apparent healthy glow of his face and his cheerful spirit had strengthened, everybody is hopes that many, years lay ahead of him still.

On Friday afternoon he departed our town, driving his carriage to Meisgyn House, his beautiful mansion near Llantrisant, in Glamorgan’s beautiful and verdant vale. No one imagined that this would be Mr. Williams’ last visit to his beloved Aberdar. And yet, it could well be that he himself feared that his end was approaching. As he left the ‘Gwladgarwr’ office he had said, “I shall write to you in a few days and I’ll see you in a fortnight’s time; but, my dear Lloyd, who knows, I may be dead before then.”

He had been far from well over the past eighteen months, giving serious, concern to his friends that the end of his days was approaching, and cause for him, too, to think very often that the time for his final repose was nigh. It was this feeling which prompted him to speak as he did as he departed our office for the last time on Friday morning, 27th February. A morning full of woe for us and a morning we shall remember whilst there be life in our veins and breath in our nostrils.

On leaving Aberdar, he had a good journey, arriving at Meisgyn House quite early and entering the house looking healthy and in good spirits. He was somewhat, more talkative, and sociable than usual. His happiness pervaded the hearts of everyone in the house. As was his custom, he read his correspondence and scanned through the daily newspapers and went for a rest, apparently, happy and in good health. On Saturday morning he woke up cheerily and the greenery of the park, the multi-coloured flowers of the garden, the sweet music of the birds, the balmy breezes of Spring and the joyful gambolling of the lambs were cause for the tender feelings of his heart to be tuneful like the strings of a harp.

Little did he, let alone his friends, think that this fine morning would be Alaw Goch’s last morning on this earth. He enjoyed his breakfast as usual and spent the earlier part of the day in and around his house. At dinner time he went to the table full of joy, dispersing innocent witticisms, filling every heart with joy, and giving rise to a beautiful smile on everyone’s lips. Seeing the cheerful rays of the sun, and nature appearing so encouraging, he felt the desire to catch a train to spend a, few hours in the ancient town of Bridgend. He had for many, years been fond of this town and its beautiful surroundings.

Nearby is the resting place of Iolo Fardd Glas, who was a relative of his, and on, whose, grave, he placed a column which is worthy of both Iolo Las and Alaw Goch. On this occasion Mr. Williams did not go to Bridgend with trade or adventure in mind; but to enjoy himself. Everybody who met him felt that he had really revived and, as it were, repossessed of a joy greater than the joy of his youth. But, oh! it was nothing more than the excessive glow of a dying ember. The cheerfulness, vivacity, wit, keenness, and amiability of his best days emerged in Alaw Goch last week to be, extinguished forever in this life.

He never complained of any ailment to anyone last Saturday afternoon in Bridgend and it appears that his great soul departed this house of clay without so much as a twinge of pain. He was, seen emerging from the market, crossing the road towards a shop on the other side; he placed his hand on a pile of goods outside the door, he leant on it, and he died without so much as a groan. Within a fraction of a second every kind of assistance had arrived and, within four minutes, two experienced doctors: but there was nothing they could do; life had escaped completely there remained only an empty tent, the occupant having left without trace.

Death accomplished its work in a trice, since it appears that our beloved Alaw had died on his feet before he even fell. The tragic and long to be, remembered event occurred between five and six o’clock on the evening of the last day of February 1863. His beloved family were, informed as gently and delicately as possible. Very soon his eldest son, Gwilym Williams, Esq., was at his side; and should it be possible for the hiraeth and love of a son to restore the life of his father, which would have happened when Ab Alaw was anointing his own cheeks and the cold face of his father with his tears.

It would be presumptuous on our part to seek to portray the feelings of Mrs. Williams or to set out the intense anguish of Mrs. Rosser, her only and dearest daughter. Things such as these are too sacred to be, brought before the public and to be, soiled by a writing pen. Let us draw down the curtain and allow them to experience the silent solitude and the still, mystic retreat which truly longing hearts would wish to encompass them. May He, in whom both mother and daughter have put their trust from their earliest days, be a retreat and a shelter at this sad time. Let Him conceal them in the sanctuary of His tent and protect them with the shadow of His wings.

Mr. Williams’ mortal remains were taken to his mansion in Meisgyn around two o’clock on the Sabbath morning and, before break of dawn, the sad news had reached his relatives in Aberdar and as he was so well known amongst all and held so dearly in the eyes of his workers, merchants and gentry, a cloud of sadness fell upon every congregation; and every family felt such emptiness and strangeness as if one of their own family had died.

The shock and the fright had the entire population feel impotent. It was, felt as if a mighty cedar tree had fallen and that a void had been, created which would not be, filled for a very, long time. Without resorting to hyperbole, we would say that it appeared as if Aberdare had lost its very heart; and no wonder, because Alaw Goch was one of those few men who had elevated a tiny and insignificant village into a beautiful and vital town containing, some forty thousand souls.

Just as in his life, so also in his funeral, Alaw Goch, although a gentleman as regards wealth and manners, is a man of the people. Every shop is, shut, every mill and forge, is silent, all commerce rests as one of its princes is being, carried to the cemetery. Not a song is, heard in either house or road there ar no fingers to play the noble harp the thousands who follow his remains to their long-lasting home are heavy of heart and sombre in appearance.

The funeral is the best explanation one could have of Alaw’s character. His sympathy was so wide-ranging and his heart so warm and generous that he liked by everybody, and he was, liked by everybody.

At his funeral we see poets and authors, ministers of religion and priests, merchants and gentry, workers, and overseers, walking sadly ahead of the coffin which contained the one they loved and behind it. He was, taken in a hearse, followed by a host of other carriages, to Aberdar and in the middle of town the coffin was taken out of the vehicle and his workers and neighbours were allowed that which they wished an easing of their hiraeth by putting their shoulders under the bier to carry his coffin.

Never, before was there such a scene in Aberdar the roads were, filled with people and the length of the procession was enormous. He was, buried in the new cemetery and in that section which is, designated for the Nonconformists. Should a little superstitious prejudice have lingered in the hearts, many inhabitants towards the cemetery at the time, that, is no longer the case for in it, peacefully, lay the remains of Alaw Goch.

Let us satisfy the eagerness of our readers with the gift of a little of the story of his life. He was born in Ystradowen, near Y Bont-Faen (Cowbridge) in the Vale of Glamorgan, in the year 1809. He was therefore only fifty-four years old. He moved at an early age to Aberdar, and he took a great likening to the place. Here he married and it was here also that he started out on his important ventures in the coal trade. He set up his works on the land of Ynys Cynon in the year 1842 and from then until the hour of his death providence smiled upon him. He sank deep mines at great expense in Mountain Ash and Cwmdar: but he then sold those to other people, so as not to add excessively to his own responsibilities.

He turned his attention to poetry around 1830 when he was 21 years of age, using the bardic name, Alaw Goch, for the first time in one of the eisteddfodau of Mynwent y Crynwyr (Quakers’ Yard). Little did he think then that the bardic name he adopted would become so well known and loved throughout the whole of Wales. Mr. Williams was one of the founders of the newspaper, “Y Gwladgarwr,” and seldom did our little newspaper appear between then and now without, some of the fruits of his thoughts gracing its columns. He edited the poetry content for, many, years, and he took great delight in encouraging and supporting young poets. In our last issue there appeared his emotional series of englynion (verses in strict metre) on the death of Eben Fardd; and this week it falls to us to consecrate his respected memory. In that great meeting held in Aberdar a little over a year ago to honour Alaw Goch, and in an address on behalf the nation and the state, the poetic and sonorous Ceiriog Hughes said,

O flaen dy wyneb Alaw Goch, To your face, alaw Goch
Canmoliaeth nid yw weddus, Praise is not appropriate,
Ond yn dy gefn di, dyna’r fan, But, behind your back, that, is, the
Mae mawl yn anrhydeddus. place. Where praise becomes truly
honourable.

At that meeting Mr. Williams’ presence and modesty was an impediment to the poets and those who gave speeches; but that impediment no longer prevails because ALAW GOCH is no longer with us. As a man, Mr. Williams was strong minded, most knowledgeable, warm hearted, of open disposition, cheerful of appearance, tender of feeling and forgiving in spirit. As a neighbour, he was quiet, sensible, gentle, and kind. As a merchant he was faithful to the very letter, punctual to the very minute, open concerning the quality of his goods and proverbially honest. To deal with him once ensured trust in him for ever. He conducted everything in an orderly and regular manner without fuss or bother and an effortless consistency characterised every task he undertook.

As a merchant, ALAW GOCH was as quiet as the river, as light as the breeze, cheerful as the sun and as productive as Autumn. As, a, master he was organised, expansive in his plans and adventurous of spirit. He used to speak to his workers as if he were one of them. Both, master, and worker knew their place; and yet each knew that the other was his friend. Wherever there was dissension between, master, and workers, he and his people were always on good terms.

If workers felt that they had just cause to complain he would encourage them always to express so to him. Should sickness or death strike the homes of some of his workers, and they were at the time impoverished and in dire, straits, just to go to him and say so, he had the heart to sympathise, a helping hand and a gentle word to raise spirits. He himself would visit those who were victims of accidents and would not depart without leaving evidence of his tender heart and generosity. For many years he used to meet his workers once a year to have supper together to formulate friendships and allow each one to gain trust and affection between each other. He assisted many of his workers to become homeowners; he rejoiced in their success and took great delight if their earnings were good come payday.

At times he would tell the best earners, “You are the best man for me, for, if you are the one who earned most for himself, you are also the one who earned most for me.” Whilst there be coal cut in the Aberdar valley, and whilst there be one coalminer living in the parish, Mr. Williams of Ynys Cynon will be, remembered as a good, master. As a poet, Alaw Goch was always ready with a verse and full of emotion. He had the ability to compose both merry and humorous poetry; but his best compositions were on themes of tenderness, sympathy, and sadness.

The number of calls on his time, both at home and away from home, had prevented him from having the time to study the strict metres to perfection; yet there was not one of them whose characteristics were unknown to him, and he could compose on each one of them. He was of a poetic nature and poets were close to his heart. It would have been a hundred times easier for a mother to deny a starving child than for Alaw Goch not to give assistance to a poet of a poor standard, whatever his circumstances. The word ‘BARDD’ held an enchantment for him and everything pertaining to a poet was either the object of respect or pity.

As a Cymro (Welshman), Mr. Williams was a patriot from, the bottom of his heart and to say that is a major statement for his was no shallow, superficial heart. His house, his children and animals all bore Welsh names. All his supervisors and closest workers were Welshmen. He educated his dear children in the leading schools of both England and the continent whilst ensuring they were truly Welsh of speech and spirit. They all spoke their country’s language as well as he did; and he himself did so as well as the likes of the ancient poets, Taliesin or Llywarch Hen.

During recent years he had devoted his aspirations and his heart to the National Eisteddfod. He felt that Wales was a small country and that Welsh people were comparatively few in number; and so he yearned to delete the perceived boundary between north and south and unite both regions of the principality in one Eisteddfod which would be large enough to be influential in the development of his country’s mental abilities and its patriotic spirit.

We believe that for some time the Eisteddfod has been having more of his attention than all his industries. He had set his mind, heart, and spirit on seeing this institution becoming the medium for a new awakening and a new life for the ancient nation and, as Ceiriog so aptly put it in his poem in his honour on the joyous evening of presentation in his honour:

Am garu’th iaith a charu’th fam, For your love of your language and of your mother,
A charu’r hen fynyddau, And your love of the old mountains
Dyna’r rheswm, dyna’r pa’m That is the reason, why,
Y cara Cymru dithau.’ Wales loves you.

As a politician, Mr. Williams was liberal. He assisted in the campaign for the abolition of the church tax (tithe), in the establishment of a British School and in throwing back in their faces the contempt which the Education Commissioners sought to thrust upon our nation. He was selected time after time to every office of honour and trust which Aberdar could bestow upon its sons; and in every circle and office he would give of his best.

There is hardly one among the scores of Aberdar chapels, to which Alaw Goch did not contribute generously and there is hardly an important venture founded in Aberdar during the past 20 years in which he did not have a hand. Before his health started to fail, he was the chairman of almost every public meeting in the area and he always filled the role to each, and every one’s complete satisfaction. We take great, pleasure in recording his many virtues and good, deeds; but the memory that he has traversed a journey over which he will not return causes our strength to fail and our writing pens to fall still. We must set aside our compositions and go to weep with the crowds, doing nothing further than to present to our readers the following powerful and characteristic englynion which Wales’ chief master of englynion composition, Caledfryn, sent us:

Wele arwyddion galar – a gyrchwyd. Behold the signs of mourning which,
Mae gorchudd anhawddgar, have, gathered. There is an unattractive
Mae gorchudd anhawddgar, cover, of incomparable thick clouds and
O dew gwmwl digymar, a deep fright over Aberdar.
A braw dwfn dros Aberdâr.

Wyla ei wraig o alaeth, - na welodd, His wife weeps from grief - of which
Un o’i ail, ran hiraeth, no one has seen hiraeth like it, his
Ei blant a wylant o aeth, children weep from sadness,
O weled ei farwolaeth. on seeing his death.

Wylo am un o’r haelion – a welir, Weeping, for one of the generous ones.
Wylo wna y Tlodion, is what we see, the poor people weep,
Deau law yr ardal hon, the right-hand, man of this entire district
O’i fawredd aeth at feirwon. from his greatness has joined the
departed.

Wyla yr awen ddilon - am Alaw, The sad muse weeps for Alaw,
A mil o gerddorion, and so do a thousand musicians, in
Ar ei ôl ef a’i fydr lon, memory of him and his cheerful poetry
Dde law’r bardd, wyla’r beirddion. the poets weep for their right-hand
man.

Pa ŵr, ie, pwy eroch, - yn ei oes, What man, yes who for you, during his
A wnaeth gymaint drosoch? life did so much for you? After him,
Ar ei ôl, wedi’r eloch, even when you have gone, there will,
Wylo geir am Alaw Goch. still, be weeping after Alaw Goch


He was one of the prime movers in getting the National Eisteddfod to Aberdare in 1861. In January 1862 he was publicly, presented with a medal and an illuminated address at the Temperance Hall (The Palladium) for his contributions to the Welsh Life and to Aberdare.
As a bard, Alaw Goch occupied a position of considerable eminence, and his generous hand will long be, missed by the friends of Welsh literature. Throughout his busy live he appears to have made but few enemies whilst he was privileged to count his friends in every sphere of life by hundreds! Many, of his generous deeds will be, preserved in the recollection of a grateful posterity and he will long be, spoken of as a man who died as rich in respect as he was in ‘wordly goods.’ He was part owner of, many local papers in Aberdare such as the “Cambrian Daily” and “Y Gwladgarwr” a Welsh paper in which he encouraged local poets to poetry in the paper.

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