Eisteddfod

Wet throats make better music than wet harps. Prince Maelgwn Gwynedd of Wales found this out in the 6th century after his vocalists and harpists had swum a river. Thereat he proclaimed the supremacy of vocal music. Ever since that time Welshmen have congregated for Eisteddfodau (music festivals which are also contests).

Last week the Welsh Royal National Eisteddfod was held amid the bowers of Sefton Park in smoky Liverpool, most populous with Welshmen (75,000) of any city save London. From all over the world went humming Welshmen, chiefly of course from the mine-scarred valleys of Wales. There were more than 500 from the U. S., including the famed Anthracite Choral Society of 172 mixed voices from Scranton, Pa. Two girls went all the way from California with their grandmother, aged 74. Others journeyed from Australia. They were welcomed by their most distinguished countryman, David Lloyd George. Then rose the president. In Welsh he cried the ancient ritualistic question: "Is there peace?" The voices thundered: "Peace."

A Welsh choir from Port Talbot captured the principal choral event. The judges, watchful of timbre, balance, locution, placed Pennsylvania's Anthracite Choir fifth. Important as usual was the bardic contest, in which young poets vie to win fame in the lyric annals of Wales. Last week Caradoc Prichard, 23, Cardiff journalist, established a record by winning for the third consecutive year. The Archdruid, robed in white with a golden breastplate, commanded the people to rise and sing Hen Whad Fy Nhadau. In purple raiment, Bard Prichard walked to the presidential chair, seated himself amid a circle of white-clad druids, poets in azure, orators in green. A golden diadem was placed upon his head. Above him the Archdruid raised a glittering sword. "Is there peace?" he asked. "Peace," was the thunderous old answer.