Yr Hen Iaith fifty three: Sin in Llanymddyfri and Puritan Appropriation:

Sin in Llanymddyfri and Puritan Appropriation: the Poetry of Rhys Prichard

We continue the history of Welsh literature to accompany the second series of podcasts in which Jerry Hunter guides fellow academic Richard Wyn Jones through the centuries. This is episode 53.

Jerry Hunter

As Nesta Lloyd observed, Rhys Prichard (c.1579-1644) was ‘the most published poet of pre-nineteenth century Wales’.   While the large body of religious free-metre poetry which he composed was clearly intended for publication, the work would not appear in print until more than a decade after his death.

Some fifty editions of the work, entitled Cannwyll y Cymry (‘The Candle of the Welsh’), would appear during the following century and a half. William Williams of Pantycelyn would produce more books during the nineteenth century, but if we take ‘most published’ to mean ‘re-republished’ (as was surely Nesta Lloyd’s intention), then Rhys Prichard does indeed deserve this title.

Oxford-educated, Prichard followed a career in the church, serving for most of his life as vicar of Llanymddyfri (Llandovery). Welsh readers often like to feel that they know their authors, even if those authors are dead (referring, for example, to Dafydd ap Gwilym simply as ‘Dafydd’ or Kate Roberts as ‘Kate’).

For many of those Welsh readers who avidly consumed the poetry contained in Cannwyll y Cymry, the author was known affectionately as ‘Yr Hen Ficer’ (‘The Old Vicar’) or ‘Y Ficer Prichard’.

Simple and Familiar

Unlike those university-educated humanists discussed earlier in this series who used their classical learning to inflect the Welsh literary tradition with new, elevated registers, Rhys Prichard employed simple language and a familiar form, adapting the mesur tri thrawiad (‘the three-beat metre’) from popular tradition.

His poems were meant to be easily understood, and, presumably, easily learned and repeated. The introductory poem presented in Cannwyll y Cymry as ‘A Letter to the Reader’ (‘Llythyr at y Darllenydd’) describes the work’s genesis:

Gogoniant Duw, a lles Brutaniaid,
Canlyniaeth ffryns, a gwaedd y gweiniaid,
A wnaeth printio hyn o lyfran,
A’i roi rhwngoch, Gymry mwynlan.

‘The glory of God, and the welfare of Britons,

the entreaty of friends, and the outcry of the weak,

caused me to print this little book,

And place it amongst you, affable Welsh people.’

Note that the Cymry (‘Welsh people’) for whom he was writing are also addressed as Brutaniaid, the descendants of the Ancient Britons. An articulation of Welsh identity inflected by an acute awareness of history, Prichard’s use of the term in work intended for an audience described by him as diddysg, ‘unlearned’, suggests the extent to which this meaning-laden term figured in constructions of Welsh identity.

The Cannwyll’s opening poem also tells readers that the vicar knows what they like:

Abergofi pur bregethiad,
Dyfal gofio ofer ganiad,
A wnaeth im droi hyn o wersau,
I chwi ‘r Cymry yn ganiadau.

‘Forgetting pure preaching,

[And yet] persistently remembering frivolous song,

Caused me to turn these lessons

Into songs for you, the Welsh.’

Contrast

The sermons delivered in church don’t seem to be reaching their hearts and minds, so he is adopting the kind of popular caniad, ‘verse’ or ‘song’, as the medium for his message. The Vicar Prichard then contrasts his poetry with the overly-learned Latinate Welsh employed by William Salesbury in the 1567 Welsh New Testament:

Am weld dyfnwaith enwog Salsbury
Gan y diddysg heb ei hoffi,
Cym’rais fesur byr cyn blaened,
Hawdd i’w ddysgu, hawdd i’w `styried.

‘Seeing renowned Salesbury’s intense work

Unliked by those without learning,

I adopted an easily understood metre,

Easy to learn, easy to consider.’

This poem presents a version of the title which the posthumously-published book would bear – Gelwais hon yn Gannwyll Cymro, ‘I called this ‘A Welshman’s Candle’ – and explains that he is primarily concerned with ‘enlightening’ (goleuo) ‘all of the unlearned Welsh’ (pawb o’r Cymry diddysg).

One of the most striking poems in the collection was aimed directly at the Vicar Prichard’s own parishioners, entitled ‘Achwyn Mr. Prichard ynghylch Tre Llanddyfri, a’i Rybydd a’i gyngor ef iddi’ (‘Mr. Prichard’s Complaint about the town of Llandovery, and his warning and his advice to it’).

He tells the town’s inhabitants that their sins have been noticed – ‘Pwysodd Duw di yn dy frynti’ (‘God has judged you in your corruption’) – and that ‘a painful rod’ (gwialen dost) is ready to punish them. Holding no punches, the vicar then invokes those Biblical towns synonymous with rampant sin:

Tebyg ydwyt i Gomora,
Sodom boeth, a thre Samaria,
Rhai na fynnent wella hyd farw,
Nes eu troi yn llwch a lludw.

‘You are similar to Gomorrah,

[and] lustful Sodom, and the town of Samaria,

Ones who did not desire betterment before death,

So that they were turned into dust and ashes.’

The persona speaking to us in this verse is then brought into close alignment with the poet himself, as Rhys Prichard describes his own vain battle against sin in the town:

Bore codais gyda’r ceiliog,
Hir ddilynais byth yn d’annog,
Droi at Dduw oddi wrth dy frynti,
Ond nid oedd ond ofer i mi.

‘I got up early with the cock,

Long I continued, constantly urging you

to turn to God [and] away from your corruption,

But it was all in vain for me.’

Although sounding the utgorn (‘trumpet’) in order to wake them o drwm gwsg pechod (‘the deep sleep of sin’), the people of Llanymddyfri are still sound asleep:

`Hwrnu er hyn wyt ti yn wastod (‘You are still snoring away despite this’).

Conflict

For me, the most interesting thing about Rhys Prichard’s poetry is not the work itself, but rather the way in which it was employed by others. Not only was Cannwyll y Cymry published more than a decade after the Old Vicar’s death, it was also published after the ‘Civil Wars’ between king and parliament, a conflict inflected intensely by the religious beliefs of the puritans who supported Cromwell and the parliamentarian army.

Stephen Hughes (1622-1688) and Heny Maurice (1634-1682) were primarily responsible for the first publication of Rhys Prichard’s poetry in the late 1650s, and those two Welshmen were puritans. Hughes especially was engaged in a publishing agenda which would help establish a canon of Welsh puritan literature, including a translation of John Bunyan’s extremely influential English book, Pilgrim’s Progress.

Those frequent reprintings of Rhys Prichard’s poetry were bound up in the slow transformation of Welsh religious culture, a transformation which would gain momentum with the Methodist Revival of the eighteenth century and eventually see the religious conservatism which had been embraced by most Welsh people for centuries successfully challenged by a vibrant Nonconformism.

However, re-examining the evidence about Rhys Prichard’s life and beliefs allows us to conclude that the man was no puritan. His posthumous status as a puritan – and then Nonconformist – icon was the result of a process of appropriation.

Yes, he was concerned with saving souls, but he did not want to overturn the political and religious status quo. He did not voice support for the radicals who were challenging the king and established church during his lifetime.

To the contrary, his work suggests that he was an ardent royalist. In addition to being vicar of Llanymddyfri, he was appointed rector of Llanedi by the king in 1613. The Vicar Prichard composed a poem welcoming the future king, Charles, then Prince of Wales, home from Spain. And in 1641, three short years before his death, the Old Vicar composed a poem praising King Charles I for his triumph over the Irish who had challenged his authority in their country.

The composition’s final verse begins ‘Duw a gadwo’n brenin graslon, ‘God save our gracious king.’  While Rhys Prichard would later be co-opted into the Welsh Puritan lineage, his own work suggests that he was diametrically opposed to the puritans who fought against the king.

The history of the way in which the Old Vicar’s poetry was used and interpreted is thus a striking example of how literature can be taken out of its original political and religious context and used for completely different ends.

Further Reading

Nesta Lloyd, ‘Late Free-Metre Poetry’ in R. Geraint Gruffydd (ed.), A guide to Welsh Literature c.1530-1700 (1997).

Nesta Lloyd (ed.), Blodeugerdd Barddas o Ganu’r Ail Ganrif ar Bymtheg (1993).

Siwan Non Richard, Y Ficer Prichard (1994).

Nesta Lloyd, ‘Late Free-Metre Poetry’ in R. Geraint Gruffydd (ed.), A guide to Welsh Literature c.1530-1700 (1997), 114.