 section 116 of England Scotland Ireland and Wales this is LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Brianna Childs Facebook.com slash author Brianna Childs the world's story volume 10 England Scotland Ireland and Wales edited by Eva March Tappan section 116 the Asteadfod by Jeanette Marx it was the first morning of my first Welsh National Asteadfod and I sat by the window working and glancing away from my work to a hillside up which led narrow steps to the summits above among which were hidden away some half a dozen tiny villages. Colwyn Bay where the Asteadfod was to be held was as the crow does not fly about 40 miles distant it was a glorious morning of sunshine in which gleams the river glossy beaches and pines and little whitewashed Welsh cottages as I looked they began to emerge from the steps a stream of people down and down they flowed bright and their pretty dresses are shining in their black Sunday bests broadcloth all those mountain hamlets up above reached by the roads passable only for mountain ponies we're sending their men women and children to the Welsh festival of song and poetry talking and excited about who would be chaired as bard who would be crowned what female choir would win the choral contests what male choir and discussing a thousand little competitions even to a set of insertions for sheets shams and towels we were born on the train from brettis coid swiftly through the veil of Conway beside the river past care hun the once ancient city of Ken O'Veam past Conway Castle with its heart-shaped walls still encircling the town and so to Colwyn Bay then all these enthusiastic people who would climb down a hill to take the train climbed up another to see the first Gorsedd ceremony as we passed from one of the cottages was heard the voice of a woman screaming in excitement Mrs. Jones Mrs. Jones come to the front door quickly there's some people going by they're dressed in blue and white dear me Mrs. Jones their men the procession fully aware that Mrs. Jones and all the little Joneses and all the big and middling Joneses too had come went on gravely up up the hill to if I know rig the flagstaff where stood the mind log of the Gorsedd and its encircling stones the paths were steep and even bards and druids are a subject to emblem point all the Aosta who can sing panillion with never a pause for breath lost his wind and the bearer of the great sword of Gorsedd was no more to be found a boy scout perhaps thinking of Scott's minstrel who said the way was long the wind was cold the minstrel was infirm and old was dispatched downhill after him and found him and the sword arm in arm lagging comfortably behind juridical deportment is astonishingly human at times but the hilltop achieved and when recovered the bards soberly made their way into the juridical circle of stones that surround the great Gorsedd stone nowhere as the arch druid remarked had the bardic brotherhood been brought near heaven from the summit north east south west the soft valleys the towering mountains the secluded villages the shining rivers and the great sea were visible and there on this hilltop the bards druids and ovates dressed in blue and white and green robes celebrated rights only less old than the eye of light itself after the sounding of the trumpet corn glad the Gorsedd prayer was recited in Welsh grant O God thy protection and in protection strength and in strength understanding and in understanding knowledge and in knowledge the knowledge of justice and in the knowledge of justice the love of it and in that love the love of all existence and in the love of all existence the love of God God and all goodness then the arch druid I fed standing upon the Gorsedd stone facing the east unsheathed the great sword crying out thrice always head oh is it peace and the bards and ovates replied head oh peace there are some scholars who question the identity of the bardic Gorsedd with the druidic system the Welsh Gorsedd this side of the controversial point is 40 centuries old and in all conscience that is old enough diodorus the Sicilian wrote there are among the Gauls makers of verses whom they name bards there are also certain philosophers and theologists exceedingly esteemed whom they call druids Strabo the geographer says amongst the whole of the Gauls three classes are especially held in distinguished honor the bards the prophets and the druids the bards are singers and poets the prophets are sacrifices and philosophers but the druids besides physiology practiced ethical philosophy as far back as we can look into the life of the company poetry song and theology have been inextricably woven together the Gorsedd was then formally for the Welsh people what it still is informally a popular university a law court a parliament the modern Gorsedd with its 12 stones is supposed to represent the signs of the zodiac through which the sun passes with a central stone called mind log in the position of the sacrificial fire in the druidical temple a close reverence for nature a certain pantheism in the cult of the druids shows itself in various ways in the belief that the oak tree was the home of the god of lightning that mistletoe which usually grows upon the oak was a mark of divine favor the most prominent symbol of the Gorsedd is the broad arrow or mystic mark supposed to represent the rays of light which the druids worshipped even the colors of the robes of the druids ovates and bards are full of characteristic worship of nature the druids in white symbolical of the purity of truth and light the ovates in green like the life and growth of nature the bards in blue the hue of the sky and in token of the loftiness of their calling up there on the hilltop with its vast panorama of hill and valley sea and sky time became as nothing the Gorsedd became again the democratic white nuchmouth of the Welsh and there still were represented the mountain shepherd the pale collier the lusty townsmen the gentle knight the expounder of the law the teacher and the priest but if upon the hill time was as nothing down below in the gigantic estus vod pavilion some 10,000 people were waiting gallant little whales which has certainly awakened from its long sleep was past the period of rubbing its eyes it was shouting calling for the estus vod ceremonies to begin perhaps as the folk in careways had called impatiently in the days of the 12th century or again in that old town in the days of Elizabeth the last that memorable estus vod when a commission was appointed by Elizabeth herself to check the bad habits of a crowd of lazy illiterate bards who went about the country begging that great estus vodic pavilion where the people were waiting good-naturedly but impatiently is a primarily a place of music even as in the world so in Wales music comes first in the hearts of mankind and poetry second and it may be since music is more social and democratic that the popular preference is as it should be the human element in all that happens at the Welsh estus vod is robust and teeming with enthusiasm it is true that prize taking socks shawls pillow shams and such homely articles no longer hang in festoons above the platform as they did some 20 or 30 years ago now the walls are gaily decorated with banners bearing thousands of spiteful looking dragons and penance inscribed with the names of scores of famous Welshmen and with such motto says the truth against the world after the procession of dignitaries was seated upon the platform a worried looking bard began to call out prizes for every conceivably useful thing under the sun among them a clock tower which he seemed to be in need of himself as a rostrum for his throat splitting yells during these announcements the choirs were filing in a pretty child with a cello much larger than herself was taking off her hat and coat a stiff self-conscious young man was bustling about with an air of importance and in the front just below the platform set newspaper reporters from all over the United Kingdom busy at their work among them were the gray the young the weary the dusty the smart the shabby and one who wore a wig but made up in roses in his buttonhole for what he lacked in hair there were occasional cheers as some local prima donna entered the choir seats and many jokes from the anxious looking master of ceremonies at last the choir was assembled and a little lady somebody's good mother mounted upon a chair the choir began to sing come sisters come where light and shadows mingle and elves and fairies dance and sing upon the meadowland the little lady never worked harder her baton her hands her head her lips her eyes were all busy was it the Celtic spirit that made those elves and fairies seem to dance upon the meadows or did they really dance the next choir was composed of younger women among them many a beauty-loving face alas two pale and telling of hard life of the hills or of the harder life of some mining town of the third choir the leader was a merry little man scarcely as high as the leaders stand with a wild look in his twinkling eyes as he waved a baton and the choir began far beneath the stars we lie far from gaze of mortal eye far beneath the ocean swell here we marry mermaids dwell he believed not only in his choir but also in those mermaidens and so did the little lad not much bigger than a Hoffman when he first began the tour who played the accompaniment when that choir went out a fourth came in still inviting the sisters to come at last the sisters not only came but also decided to stay and another choir lured the sailor successfully to his doom and all was over for evening choir tragedies there must be an end to the song the gallant little mother had won the first prize it takes the mothers to win prizes and the audience thought so too the crowd yelled and stamped with delight when one asks oneself whether Surrey for example or such a state as Massachusetts in America could be brought to send its people from every farm every valley every hilltop to a festival thousands strong day after day for a whole week when realizes how tremendous a thing this Welsh national enthusiasm is educationally nothing could be a greater movement for Wales to the Welsh the beauty of worship music poetry are inseparable only so can this passion for beauty which brings multitudes together to take part in all that is noblest and best in Welsh life be explained only so can you understand why some young collier pale and work-worn sings with his whole soul and shakes with the song within him even as a bird shakes with the notes that are too great for its body these Welsh sing as if music were all the world to them and in it they forget the world behind the passion of their song lies a devout religious conviction and their song sweeps up in praise and petition to an almighty God who listens to Shelly's owed to the West wind as well as some great him to hear 10,000 Welsh people singing land of my fathers each taking naturally one of the four parts and all singing in perfect harmony is to have one of the great experiences of life to hear Shelly's owed set to Elgar's music and sung by several choirs to hear that wild far traveling winds sweep along in a tumult of harmonies to know that every heart there was as a liar even to the last breath of that wind to hear that last cry oh wind if winter comes can spring be far behind to listen again to those choirs late in the evening on the station platform with the seed dim and vast and muting the song to its own greater music is to have felt in the Welsh spirit what no tongue can describe it is to understand the meaning of the word who that untranslatable word of a passionate emotionalism all that went on behind the scenes the audience could not know I saw only those considered by the adjudicators fit to survive they did not see the six blind people for even the blind to have their place in this great festival who entered the little school room off a road to take the preliminary tests the girl who played the harmonious blacksmith and shaking from excitement and holding on to her guide was led away unsuccessful they did not see the lad who played men of Harlech crudely his anxious aging work warm mother sitting beside him holding his stick and nodding her head in approval all they heard were selected to you were considered by the judges fit to play a man both blind and deaf who performed a scared so of Brahms and a caravan sea captain now blind who played on the violin the quiet of the one-time sea captain's face laid against the violin the peace and pleasure in the lines about the sightless eyes would have repaid the whole audience even if the violinist had not been an exceptionally good player for listening one of the inspiring and amusing events of the week with the discovery of a marvelous contralto a young girl shabbily dress and ill at ease came out to sing everything was being pressed forward towards the crowning of the bard one of the great events of the estes fad people were impatient and somewhat noisy but as the girl began to sing they quieted down then they listened with wonder and in a minute you could have heard a pin drop in that throng of ten thousand before she had finished singing jesu lover of my soul the audience knew that it had listened to one of the great singers of the world when she had finished her song and unclasped her hands she became again nothing more than an awkward silly giggling child whom what's the old taggith had to hold by the arm the audience shouted what's her name Maggie Jones he replied that begins well where does she come from demanded the crowd police station answered he would take it the goober sly the audience roared with laughter and demanded the name of the town Maggie Jones is the daughter of police superintendent Jones of Puehly perhaps in the years to come the world will hear her name again there are children at these estes to follow whose little feet can scarce reach the pedals of a harp even the robins singing up in the high pavilion roof who had joined in music from time to time trailing joyously to handles oh had I jubiles liar twittered with surprise that anything so small could play anything so large but no one of the thousands there even the children grew tired for an instant unless it was the same robins who were weary at times because of the cheerless character of some of the sacred music sung in competition and themselves starting up singing blithely and gladly as God meant that birds and men should sing the robins twittered madly when some sturdy little Welshman stepped into the panellin singing accompanied by the harp no more to be daunted than a child stepping into rope skipping when the grown-ups had finished two little children came forward and sang their songs north Wales style the afternoon was growing later and later it was high time for the name of the bard of the crown poem to be announced at last with due pomp name of the young bard was announced everyone looked to see where he might be sitting he was found sitting modestly in the rear of the big pavilion and there were shots of demov all here he is two bards came down and scored him to the platform where all the druids ovates and bars were awaiting him the bands the trumpeter the harp and the sword now all performed their service the sun's slanting down through the western windows onto this bardic pageant the sparrows flew in and out of the sunlight unafraid of the dragons that waved about them and the bands that played beneath them and the great sword held sheathed over the young bards head the sword was bared three times and sheathed again as all shouted the bard was crowned and the whole audience rose to the Welsh national song what is the meaning of this unique festival of poetry and song Mr. Lloyd George who had escaped from the den of the battle outside and the jeers of the Goths and vandals who couldn't or wouldn't understand the fourth form said a mitzla after that there was no budget to raise taxes for the upkeep of the estus fad then he continued the bards are not compelled by law to fill up forms there is no conscription to raise an army from the ranks of the people to defend the estus fads empire in the heart of the nation and yet after the lapse of generations the estus fad is more alive than ever well what good is she I will tell you one thing she demonstrates what the democracy of Wales can do at its best the democracy has kept her alive the democracy has filled her chairs the sons of the democracy compete for her honors I shall never forget my visit two years ago when crossing the hills between flinchire and the valley of the day I saw their slopes darkened with the streams of shepherds and cottagers and their families going towards the town what did they go to see to see a man of their nation honored for a piece of poetry and the people were as quick to appreciate the points as any expert of the gorse said and wonderfully responsive to every lofty thought yes unlike any other gathering in the world the estus fad is all that long ago in the latter half of the 18th century Eolio Morgano stated the objects of Welsh Bardism to reform the morals and customs to secure peace to praise or encourage all that is good or excellent this national festival is the popular university of the people it is the center of Welsh nationalism the feast of Welsh brotherhood only listened to when this spirit can one understand what it means when in the esthetophotic throng after the crowning of the bard rises to sing hey old land that our fathers before us held dear end of section 116 this recording is in the public domain end of the world's story a history of the word in story song and art volume 10 england scotland ireland and wales edited by Eva March tappan