Welsh Journals

IN the death in action of Lieut. James G. Williams of the Royal Welsh Fusiliers, Wales lost one of her most brilliant sons. Like others of his race he took part in the recapture of Mametz Wood (August, 1918), and while leading his company into battle fell at the head of his men. The cold statement of fact can reveal nothing of the cruel disappointment that so many of us sustained at the time. We had learned to regard him as one of a small group who would really mould Welsh education, and in whose hands our schools and colleges would prove to be something more than the happy hunting-ground of examination maniacs and degree snatchers. Conscientious in the extreme, he had little patience with those who turn education into a race for marks, suitably concluding in the presentation of something or other-never mind what- bound in leather. But I am anticipating. Lieut. Williams was born in Liverpool in 1878, and graduated in arts in 1901. He embarked on his career as a teacher at Anfield Road, and there specialised in History and English. Throughout this period Lieut.Williams was drawn to the study of philosophy, and in 1904 he completed his M.A. degree with Honours. Professor Mair and Professor MacCunn of Liverpool, both bear testimony to his amazing thoroughness, and to the shrewdness of his well-balanced mind. On the other hand he was extremely practical, and helped in the founding of the Young Wales Society of which he was the first secretary, and which still flourishes in his native city. Everything Welsh had its fascination for him, and he devoted much of his energy to work in a Mission Sunday School. The lads there must have had a rare time. 1908 saw Lieut. Williams at Bangor Normal College as lecturer in English, and at the outbreak of the war he was Senior House Master. This was his field, and I have met several to whom his lectures on Shakespeare and Browning are as vivid as if they had been delivered yesterday. Combined, too, with his teaching capacity was a keen sense of humour, and a real sympathy with those he met. No one gained con- fidence more Easily, no one respected it more, and I can recall a dozen occasions when a chat with him revealed a course of action where all before was blank. Yet another subject captivated him, viz., the teaching of language in a bi-lingual population. In 1913, Lieut. Williams obtained a Gilchrist travelling scholarship, and crossed to the Continent to study foreign methods. He spent much time in Belgium and in Alsace-Lorraine, and the result of his investigations is his volume, Mother- tongue and Other-tongue," a work of great interest and rare promise. Such in brief outline was the civil career of one of the keenest and kindliest personalities, of our day. It was in A SON OF WALES LIEUT. JAMES G. WILLIAMS, R.W.F. By M. Watcyn Williams, M.C., late Capt., R.W.F. 1916 that I first met him, as the assistant adjutant of a Royal Welsh battalion at Kinmel Park. I had not been commissioned more than a few days, and arrived at Camp a little elated, but very afraid. Only those who know the traditional courtesy, and frigid politeness with which a young officer is first received, can possibly appreciate the value at such a moment of a man like Lieut. Williams. At this time, the Somme offensive was in full swing, and very shortly we began crossing in small batches to France. This involved a brief separation, but in a little more than a month, Lieut. Williams joined us as an officer of the 10th Royal Welsh Fusiliers, a battalion known throughout the Army, and thanks to the censorship, un- known in Wales. I remember how glad he was to find old friends, and indeed it was fortunate, as the orders to sail had broken in upon his honeymoon. It was rough luck, but no one I have ever met groused less than he. Soon he was universally known as J.G." the idol of his platoon, and everyone's friend. Yet he was reserved, and it was given to few of us to know the inner shrines of that genial nature. In the Beaumont Hamel attack he was in charge of a forward ration dump, which he organised with con- spicuous ability, keeping a constant stream of men supplied with hot drinks. It was a first-rate achievement, carried out in a wilderness of mud and death. Neither trench tours nor his work as a quartermaster revealed J.G.'s deepest vein, but in dug-out chats. and quiet strolls behind the line we began to tap the sources of his courage ^and kindness. He was an idealist who refused to blink facts, but he never burdened others with his difficulties. Friendship was the very stuff of his life, and in the genial glow of his personality it was possible to forget war and its filth. I can see him now by a brazier fire in Velu Wood chatting to a little group of men about the wonder of St. Agnes' Eve," and replying to a host of eager questions fired at him. To-day his place in the vanguard is vacant, and there are, many of us who feel we can only falter where he trod with firm step, yet we dare not forget him. As long as education has any interest for us, his name will be a watch- word and a spur, and in order that others may catch some- thing of the same. inspiration, a movement has been started to raise a memorial that shall be worthy of him. It is to take the form of an exhibition, or a prize, open to students of the College where he taught with such success, and where his heart was. Even now as I close, I am haunted by a phrase which he uttered at a dinner given in honour of a fellow-officer- The things which brought us together are accidental; the things which bind us are essential, fundamental, eternal." In that faith he lived and died, in that faith his friends will fight through to better times in Wales.