Welsh Journals

it survived merely as a vehicle of folk-songs, as a philological curiosity or as a peasant dialect, but as a living, growing, throbbing language, a special vehicle of thought, containing an historical con- tinuity of literary form, blossoming at this day into drama and new forms of poetry, with a variety of dialects that only go to prove its vitality. This, we are told to-day, is a dying language. If so, it is we ourselves who are killing it, through sheer lack of decent, ordinary pride. Many of the pos- sessors of this great inheritance, while treating it with an air of reverence and respect, seldom or never use it and still less pass it on to the next generation. The talent is kept hidden from the eyes of Englishmen, vast multitudes of whom have no knowledge of the existence of a Welsh language or else imagine it to be as dead as Corn- ish. Many who have the knowledge think that some sort of artificial respiration is being applied by over-excited professors, whereas the very reverse is taking place. An apathetic nation is sitting on the body and gently but firmly smother- ing it. Of course, the English tourist must be spoken to in English, for if he were not spoken to in English, he would be unable to buy things in our shops. Presumably the English resident must likewise be addressed in English, otherwise he might feel a bit out of things. But why, in the name of common-sense, should the English official and the English resident who dabbles in local politics expect and get the same consideration? How does a minority of one or two at a council meeting force the overwhelming majority to throw up this great inheritance of language? The answer is simple. Because the minority feel an unconscious pride in speaking English and take their language for granted, while the majority feel no pride in speaking Welsh and also take English for granted. The proof of this is to be found in the fact that an English-speaking Welsh- man claims and gets the same privilege as the English official and English resident, the English- speaking Welshman being in reality a half-baked Englishman. (You cannot think in the language of one nation all your life and pretend to belong entirely to the other, but that is another story). The most dismal apparition of all is the bi-lingual Welshman, who with amazing perversity imposes English as the vehicle of conversation upon his timid fellow-countrymejn. It is possible that concerted action might swiftly exterminate this last type, ridicule being strongly recommended as a proved and efficient weed-killer. Then we might work backwards through the list, for, as we begin to take real pride in the great gift our fathers (some of them) have given us, it may be that in the dim and distant future, even the tour- ist may find it convenient, if not pleasurable, to know a word or two of the language spoken by the natives." 3. Lack of pride is a pervasive thing. From lack of pride in speaking one's own language there spreads a lack of pride in other things that are one's own. It may be worth while consider- ing whether Wales is proud of her own culture and civilisation or whether in fact she has a cul- ture and civilisation to be proud of. There is in existence a gramophone record of Mae hen wlad fy nhadau," the accompaniment to which damns it beyond hope of recall. This is, of all things in the world, a harmonium, though mas- querading on the title of the record as an organ. The Welsh National Anthem (if there is such a thing) is given out to the world as sung to a har- monium. It would be interesting to know whether there is any other national anthem recorded to the accompaniment of a harmonium. We are called by the English a musical nation and feel delightfully complacent on hearing the verdict, but are we to be seriously reckoned with as a musical nation in the world of music? We have produced probably the finest hymns and hymn- tunes in the world, we have a wealth of musical motifs hidden in our airs and folk-songs, we have the Mabinogion as a quarry for opera, we have an exportable surplus of good voices, but these things alone cannot afford us real pride. We send out, it is true, an unending list of female ballad-singers to grace afternoon concert plat- forms, likewise tenors and baritones who supply oratorio work and the prologue to "II Pagliacci," but we are curiously barren in operatic singers, pianists, violinists and orchestral conductors. There is musical wealth and talent to spare, but it is not being fed with musical appreciation, for one has a suspicion that Handel might not be so familiar by name in Wales, if his works did not bear a mystic relationship to the harmonium. Given a nation proud in being called musical for the sake of Music Herself, there is no reason on earth why Cardiff, Bangor and Aberystwyth should not be made as famous musically as Dres- den, Berlin or Amsterdam. Architecture is well worth a thought also, for good architecture is a crowning proof of self- respecting pride. There must be enough wealthy Welshman to patronise a native school of architecture, if they were educated up to it there are certainly enough architects who would subdue the native materials to the native background, if they were given a chance. There is no need to be for ever copying the backward architecture of England, for there are plenty of ideas to be got from Sweden or Holland for a start. Even a native school of painting is not outside the bounds of possibility. The modern renascence of poetry in Wales is a special subject of its own and full of significance for Welsh culture, but it is necessary to fix our attention on another art of far greater significance for the future-drama. It is of far greater significance because a good