Category: Publications

Soon after, he heard reports of the launch of Plaid Genedlaethol Cymru in Pwllheli, and in October 1926 he attended a Plaid meeting in Caernarfon, filling in a membership form there and then.  The forms were collected by HR Jones, a thin young man with a pale complexion: little did JE know that in a few years’ time he would be taking his place as Plaid Cymru’s general secretary.  Within a month, a Plaid branch had been set up in the college in Bangor, with JE as secretary; by the summer it had nearly 80 members.  JE stood as the party’s candidate in a mock election in November 1927 – and after a barnstorming campaign, he won!  Could this have been Plaid’s first ever election victory?  “I learnt then,” he was to say, “that it was easier to win over intelligent English people than a number of servile Welsh individuals.”[ii]

Once his University days were over, it was time to look for work.  With a depression already looming, he applied for a teaching post in east London – and got it, one of four appointments out of 60 candidates.  It seems most of the interview was spent discussing self-government for Wales! In no time at all, he had become secretary of Plaid Cymru’s London branch, although he also found time to play football for London Welsh Second XI and tennis during the summer.

Then came a decisive turning point in the young teacher’s life.  After a long illness, HR Jones, the main driving force behind the foundation of Plaid Cymru, died.  Despite fears about being able to afford it, the party leaders decided that a full-time successor had to be appointed.  JE, together with a friend, the Guardian journalist

Gwilym Williams, decided they would both apply – using exactly the same wording, and giving each other’s name as a reference!  JE was appointed – to a post he loved: “I was Secretary and Organiser of the movement for Welsh freedom from December 1930 until May 1962, when the old heart said it could take no more.”[iii]

It is interesting to compare the two Jones, HR a JE.  One footnote, perhaps trivial but worth noting, is this: both of them succeeded in restoring the traditional names of their home communities; from Nasareth to Deiniolen in the case of HR, Cynfal to Melin-y-Wig in the case of JE.  There was certainly a strong similarity in one aspect of their characters – an unswerving devotion to the cause of Wales and the Welsh language, and a vision of their country as taking its place among the world’s fully fledged nations.  To which we can add the readiness to work without stop.  I am grateful to Dewi Rhys, JE’s son, for these recollections of his father (my translation): “He was never idle.  He would be on his feet about 5 every morning – either on the little typewriter, or in the greenhouse where he would ‘relax’ by transplanting hundreds of small plants, with the garden a sea of colour every summer.  He was delighted to hear people making complimentary comments about the garden as they passed by.  Even on holiday, he wasn’t idle.  He would write diaries and bind them together as book after we came home.”[iv] Such commentaries were to form the basis for Tro i’r Swistir, the book he later wrote about their visits to Switzerland.

But the differences between the two are also revealing.  As ever, JE is full of praise for his predecessor but he could not but observe the fact that party branches and rhanbarth organisations had languished and ceased to exist during HR’s illness:  “To all intents, I was obliged to rebuild Plaid Cymru all over again.”[v] Plaid’s principal historian, D Hywel Davies, goes further, describing HR in these terms: “a restless visionary, longing for vigorous action on behalf of Wales rather than a desk role”.  By contrast, JE “though prepared for radical action, was blessed with a painstaking nature more fitted to the task of careful organisational planning”.[vi] Hywel Davies also points to JE’s background as a University graduate and qualified teacher, concluding that this made him more comfortable among the membership Plaid was attracting.

JE took up his post on 1 December 1930, working from a small office in Caernarfon adjacent to the Pendref hotel where he took lodgings.  What followed was a 32-year ‘stretch’ in which he became the lynch pin of party activity.  JE soon established himself as the centre of communication and information for the party; and Plaid Cymru became noted for the quality and quantity of its publications.  In the first four years of existence, it had published just one substantial pamphlet, Saunders Lewis’ Principles of Nationalism.  Once JE took up the reins of office, Plaid began producing a steady stream of literature.  It is worth noting that this output included several solid works on economic policy – including The Economics of Welsh Self-Government by Dr DJ Davies (July 1931) and two by Saunders Lewis – The Case for a Welsh National Development Council (1933) and Local Authorities and Welsh Industry (1934).  These publications, supplemented Y Ddraig Goch, which slightly preceded the foundation of Plaid Cymru, and its English-language counterpart, Welsh Nationalist, set up in 1932.

The emphasis was very much on selling and sales campaigns rather than giving away; although JE developed the habit of what he called ‘meithrin tawel’ (quiet cultivation), sending the latest publication with a friendly covering letter to a selected range of prominent people – the artist Augustus John was one he said joined the party as a result.[vii] I recall (to my shame) Gwynfor Evans pointing frequently to the relative dearth of Plaid publications during the 1970s and 1980s by comparison with JE’s term of office.

Then there is PR.  While persuading others to produce detailed publications, JE himself was master of collecting the telling quote and the killer fact, which he described as ‘bwledi’ – bullets.  This led on naturally to press communications, in which he proved expert – both in crafting press statements and cultivating journalists. I like his restrained critique of some of his fellow Nationalists in this area: “I found one of the most difficult things, in the early years, was to educate our local officials – secretaries or correspondents – to write ‘effective pieces’ for the Press and to develop friendly relations with journalists.  But that came, over time.”[viii] JE could have taught 21st century spin doctors a trick or two: his advice on using the Press remains as true today as ever, for all the changes brought by the age of the internet, Facebook and Twitter.

One early priority was building the party, from the tiny handful he inherited in 1930.  This proved painfully slow, although JE set about the task in his typically systematic way, moving from county to county, badgering members to establish county committees and in due course branches.  Saunders Lewis was characteristically acerbic about the rate of progress: at the end of 1935, after praising JE’s work, he asked: “But where are his disciples?  An organiser of the same calibre in every Rhanbarth Committee would transform the course of Plaid Cymru.”[ix]

Here it’s worth recalling some home truths.  Plaid Cymru was still small.  It was also (in terms of the age of its members) overwhelmingly young.  Because it was small and young it was also poor, very poor.  This partly explains how few elections it fought – one Parliamentary seat in 1929, two in 1931 (Caernarfon county and the University of Wales), back down to one in 1935.  By the way, 1935 was the first election for Plaid to use canvassing – a technique JE adapted from his contacts with parties in Denmark, Ireland and England.  Local elections contested were also few and far between.  Perhaps poverty isn’t the whole truth – the indefatigable DJ Williams complained bitterly at the lack of fighting spirit, describing Carmarthenshire county committee as “a dead body”.[x] This was 1935!

One technique JE pioneered to tackle Plaid’s financial problems was the St David’s Day Fund, based on the experiences of Fianna Fáil.  The first appeal, in 1934, raised the princely sum of £250!  Building party membership and funding went hand in hand with fighting campaigns – on a whole range of topics.  Just one example – shortly after taking up his post JE launched a campaign to popularise use of the Welsh flag in place of the ubiquitous Union Jack.  The first target was Caernarfon castle, whose Constable was none other than David Lloyd George.  His opening gambit was typically modest, scarcely capable of rejection – simply equal status for the two flags on St David’s Day.  A letter forwarded by Lloyd George to the Minister in London elicited a contemptuously negative response – just what JE was after of course.  He promptly published it!

On St David’s Day 1932, clad top to toe in motor cycle gear, JE paid his sixpence and made his way to the top of the Eagle Tower, joined by three other conspirators, including Lloyd George’s nephew, WRP George.  There they lowered the Union Jack, raised the Ddraig Goch and then stapled the ropes to the flagpole – JE’s planning of course included a hammer and staples in his rucksack.  The spectacle of a large red dragon flag on the tower prompted cheers and a quick rendition of Hen Wlad Fy Nhadau from a crowd below; although the local constabulary soon appeared, and before long the Union Jack was back in its place.  Later in the day, however, and quite independently, a group of Plaid students from Bangor showed up on the back of a lorry.  They too got up to the Eagle Tower and succeeded in smuggling out the offending Union Jack, which met an unfortunate fate on the Maes.

The following St David’s Day saw a government U-turn.  A large Draig Goch was raised as high as the Union Jack, and the ceremony was performed by none other than David Lloyd-George.  Soon afterwards, the Welsh flag would fly from all government buildings on 1 March; and JE saw to it that party branches pressed the local authorities to follow suit.  He then arranged production of more flags, selling them at a tidy profit.

Other campaigns involved moves to raise the status of the Welsh language – for example, shaming the Post Office into accepting prepaid envelopes with Welsh place names – building up to the successful drive to ensure Welsh language programmes on the BBC.  A common theme in all these endeavours – and many more – was careful planning and a holistic approach – never missing out on an opportunity for good PR.  This care was evident than during the burning of the Penyberth bombing school in September 1936, an operation remarkable for its secrecy and meticulous attention to detail.  This included a spy – the young Alaw Non Rees, who from her upstairs window in Llanbedrog kept tabs on how much timber had arrived on site.

JE was one of seven people who played a direct role in the operation – he walked part of the way back to Caernarfon along the railway to avoid detection.  The following morning in his lodgings he received a letter from Saunders Lewis – apologising for not informing him about the burning!  It was of course an alibi – the Plaid leaders could not afford to have their office closed down and their organiser behind bars at such a crucial moment.  JE remained free to organise nationwide protests.  Dewi Rhys recalls seeing the bundles of telegrams of support sent to the Penyberth Three – Saunders Lewis, Lewis Valentine and DJ Williams – telegrams that JE had organised: by law they had to be delivered, even during a High Court trail, helping to maximise the impression of public support.[xi] He also arranged what I believe must still rank as the biggest ever party rally – a crowd of 12,000 welcomed the Penyberth Three back to Caernarfon from Wormwood Scrubs.

Penyberth and the two High Court trials that followed proved a pre-War high water mark for Plaid Cymru.  JE argues that much of the new support the party won was dissipated by opposition to the coronation of George VI, a decision taken during Saunders Lewis’ prison sentence and a rare spell of sick leave for himself.  Opponents also saw Lewis’ conversion to Catholicism as a chance to smear Plaid with the taint of fascism.  The outbreak of War posed a huge challenge – even a mortal threat to the party’s existence, as Saunders Lewis openly admitted at the time.  Yet somehow Plaid Cymru carried on, and even grew in influence as the war went on.  The party hit back at its detractors with vigour and confidence.  It resisted conscription, JE facing six separate courts and tribunals over three years, and doing so with some style.  And it fought tooth and nail to save 40,000 acres of land in the Epynt range from seizure as a Ministry of War firing range.  So in April 1940, JE found himself walking the mountains again, visiting every farm endangered; but London had its way.

From 1942 the tide was clearly turning in the party’s favour.  A by-election for the University of Wales seat saw Saunders Lewis take 23 per cent of the vote: JE notes (with satisfaction) that he was described as ‘cunning’ for his role as the “assiduous, astute and untiring agent”.[xii] And he had another reason to be happy.  In 1940 he had married Olwen Roberts, secretary of the Caernarfon rhanbarth, the ceremony performed by Lewis Valentine.  Two children, Angharad and Dewi Rhys, were to follow.

By 1945, Plaid Cymru emerged stronger than ever.  For the first time it could lay some claim to be an all-Wales party, fighting seven seats in the general election.  In the summer it chose a new leader, the 33-year-old Gwynfor Evans, and he and JE were to form a cohesive team for the next decade and a half.  In fact, says Hywel Davies, it is from 1945 rather than 1925 than Plaid can be regarded as a political party, albeit still a party in embryo.[xiii]

Once again it fought a Ministry of War land grab, this time in Trawsfynydd, Meirionnydd and this time successfully.  Again JE provided organisational flair: the police and army were outwitted by a diversionary group while the main protest used back lanes to stage a two-day blockade.  By 1950 Plaid Cymru was fully engaged in the Parliament for Wales campaign and JE organised a series of rallies which would be held annually for a quarter of a century.  The 1953 rally was one of the biggest seen in Cardiff.  Unusually he took the chair – but his real input was planning and implementation.  The build-up included a relay of torch bearers running from the Owain Glyndŵr Parliament House in Machynlleth to Sophia Gardens: JE ensured the speeches and messages went on long enough for the ensuing procession to be seen by crowds leaving Cardiff Arms Park.[xiv] He was also involved in the defence of the Tryweryn valley although by now he had more assistance.

Of course JE Jones was not without his critics.  Some felt that someone of his background could not relate to the industrial, non-Welsh-speaking communities of south-east and north-east Wales.  I think his track record shows otherwise.  Tros Gymru is full of references to the need to appeal to those who do not speak Welsh.  JE supported the move of the party’s office from Caernarfon to Cardiff in 1946 – in fact he personally located premises in 8 Queen Street.  Dewi Rhys recalls that the official opening took place on 1 March, the day of his birth, with his father trying to be in two places at the same time – as usual![xv] His work enabled Plaid Cymru to spread its wings in the south after the war.  For his part JE always showed a great reluctance to criticise fellow Nationalists.  Here is one rare example: after praising the leadership of Saunders Lewis, he allowed himself this one comment: “But he did develop a tendency towards a mistaken prejudice sometimes against certain types of people; for example, he could suggest, about someone quite as courageous as himself, that pacifism was cowardice.”[xvi] The ‘someone’, of course, has to be Gwynfor Evans.

Others felt he was too close to the party elite; especially at times of strain within the ranks, as for example during the Tryweryn campaign.  By 1950, the now ex-president Saunders Lewis was privately critical of what he called JE’s ‘parchusrwydd’, respectability, which he contrasted unfavourably with the militant tactics of the Welsh Republicans.[xvii] But JE was by his nature a loyalist, committed to supporting Plaid Cymru and its chosen leadership through thick and thin, whatever that might demand.  He had proved himself more than ready for radical action: his willingness during the war years to oppose conscription as a nationalist and face prison demonstrates that.  The ‘respectability’ of which Saunders Lewis complained was that of Plaid Cymru rather than JE: it reflected the determination of Gwynfor Evans to put post-War Plaid on course to be a truly all-Wales party rather than a nationalist pressure group.

Looking back, what is striking is JE’s willingness and ability to continue at his post, for all the problems and pressure Plaid Cymru faced.  Could the party have held together during the 1930s, the 40s and the 50s without JE at the helm?  Perhaps, but I find it hard to imagine how.  His tombstone in Melin-y-Wig bears the dedication ‘JE Jones, Pensaer Plaid Cymru’ – a fitting tribute to the architect of Wales’ national movement.

JE Jones (1905-1970) is buried in the cemetery opposite the chapel in Melin-y-Wig, Denbighshire.  A plaque on the wall of the former village school he attended also commemorates his life.

The Plaid Cymru History Society presents the full version of “A Bee or
Two in my Bonnet – Notes of a Nationalist and Socialist‟ by Emrys
Roberts, former general secretary of Plaid Cymru who fought the
Merthyr by-election in 1972.
“A Bee or Two in my Bonnet‟ has been published in English and
Welsh by the Plaid Cymru History Society.  June 2011

Link

PLAID CYMRU HISTORY SOCIETY, MARCH 25, 2011

[TRANSLATION FROM WELSH]

IN THE BEGINNING …

By D.Hywel Davies B.A., M.Sc.(Econ.)

AS is appropriate for the inaugural meeting of the Plaid Cymru History Society, I wish to take you back to the earliest period in the history of the formation of the movement. But not to the famous event that was held in Pwllheli in 1925 but to another one held in Caernarfon in 1924. I’m afraid that I can’t offer a much more exciting location: the Maesgwyn Temperance Hotel was the place arranged in Pwllheli; the Queen’s Café is the best that I can offer you in Caernarfon.

It is Saturday night the twentieth of September, 1924, and quite a number of people from Caernarfon and district are walking in the direction of the Queen’s Café in the old heart of the town. It has been a year of political excitement – namely the formation of a British Government for the first time by the new Labour Party under the leadership of Ramsay Macdonald back in January. It’s a minority Government, and the talk is that there will be another General Election pretty soon. David Lloyd George has no worries about that. Caernarfon Borough is solidly behind him – and it’s certain that he is conspiring how to regain the keys to Number 10 sometime in the future. But the Labour Party is now on the rise having already achieved the status of the second party in the only Parliament they had at that time.

Britain is not the topic of conversation of those heading for the Queen’s Café tonight. Wales is the topic. The politics of Wales. A Wales without a national political body. A Wales without a nationalist movement. A Wales without sub-branches of the British parties to recognise its national status. A Wales without the Red Dragon on the towers of Caernarfon Castle.

But there is some Welsh political context. Specifically, because of its previous history as the main spokesperson for Wales at Westminster, the failure of the Liberal Party as a body to raise once more the question of devolution. The most recent development was a religious matter. The Church of England in Wales was disestablished as a part of the British state church. In its place, in 1921, the Church in Wales was established as an independent Welsh church. But with that religious devolution, it was as if the breezes had disappeared from the sails of Welsh political devolution. But not entirely.

A number of conferences were held between 1918 and 1922 to discuss devolution. They were arranged by a handful of individual Liberal Members of Parliament who invited representatives of local councils and other movements. There was very little response to the first conference that was held in Llandrindod Wells. It was agreed that ‘self-government’ would be beneficial for Wales but without it being defined. Not having received an invitation to this conference, the new Labour Party saw the whole thing as a Liberal ruse aimed at hanging on to the votes of Welsh patriots. The Labourites of south Wales declared their support for home rule in 1918 as did the North Wales Labour League in 1924. Nevertheless, as was stated by the important Labour figure David Thomas, who supported devolution, the real battle was that between labour and capital.

The most successful conference was that in 1919, again in Llandrindod Wells. It was enthusiastically agreed to call for ‘full local autonomy’, again without definition. And a Welsh Secretary of State was called for though with a smaller majority following a heated debate. The Western Mail described the agreement that was reached as ‘something in the nature of a miracle … [though it] left the question very much where it found it.’

Not much more light was provided when a small group of Liberal Members of Parliament asked the Prime Minister – the old nationalist David Lloyd George – in 1920 to create a Secretary for Wales. “Go for the big thing!” he replied, but nobody understood that. A measure was proposed by David Matthews, the Liberal MP for Swansea East, in 1921 calling again for a Secretary of State for Wales, but no one was paying attention. There were other things on the minds of the leaders of the central Liberal Party. The Labour Party in particular.

By now the Welsh inspiration was diminishing quickly. The final conference of this series was held in Shrewsbury in 1922 – ironically enough on the day of the signing of the Royal Assent for the creation of the Irish Free State. There was scant support. The few who were present failed even to support Murray Macdonald MP’s private measure, The Government of Scotland and Wales, which called for federal devolution. The Welsh Outlook magazine commented, ‘The futile Shrewsbury Conference on March 31st last and the ridiculous debate which followed it in the House of Commons on April 18th, marked the nadir of the Welsh Home Rule movement, and only a small remnant of those who supported it escaped pessimism and despair.’ Murray Macdonald’s measure failed. It was the end of an era. Devolution disappeared at Westminster.

No. Those Welsh patriots who were closing in on their cups of tea at the Queen’s Café did not have much reason for hope. But, with the enthusiasm that has been central to our movement, they would surely have responded. “Hold on! There’s an excellent group of students who have raised a great nationalist furore at Aberystwyth fairly recently. And in Bangor – there’s a student society there – The Tair G society – which is full of Welsh enthusiasm. And there’s the scholar Saunders Lewis who has kicked a hornet’s nest to annoy the respectable, hypocritical Welsh. Yes, there is hope!”

Ready to welcome them in the Queen’s Café was 24 year old H.R.Jones, a quarryman who had had to become a travelling salesman due to poor health. H.R. was from the village of Ebenezer – though he was leading a campaign at the time to bring Deiniolen back as its name. It was he who had arranged tonight’s meeting on the much greater topic of the nation’s future. H.R.Jones had been sending letter after letter to everyone he knew as patriots – far and wide, prominent and less well known. Come, he said, to set in motion an independent Welsh nationalist political movement.

H.R. was a shy man, a quiet man. But he was boiling with frustration. It was yet another conference that had particularly upset him. This one had been held during the summer by one of the small patriotic movements that were emerging briefly and disappearing like fireflies as Welsh enthusiasts sought the way forward: Cymdeithas yr Iaith Gymraeg (The Welsh Language Society) – the first with that name; Urdd y Delyn (The Order of the Harp) – a foretaste of Urdd Gobaith Cymru; the enthusiastic Lady Mallt Williams of St Dogmael’s Byddin Cymru (Army of Wales) – not a weapon in sight despite its name; Undeb y Ddraig Goch (The Union of the Red Dragon) in Liverpool; Lloyd George’s brother William’s Cymdeithas Cymru Well (The Better Wales Society). This time it was Byddin yr Iaith (The Language Army) which had held its annual meeting in Llandrindod Wells. Despite its threatening title, there was nothing military about Byddin yr Iaith: members were to wear the movement’s badge, to speak Welsh as often as possible in places such as post offices and train stations, and to demand official status for the Welsh language. During the conference, another tiny movement with a big name – the Home Rule Section of the League of Welsh Nationalists – had held their own meeting. There were speeches. An appeal was issued.

H.R. was furious. He sent even more letters. It was raining H.R. letters in Wales! The Rev J.Seymour Rees was glad to receive one in Treorci. D.J.Williams was pleased when his arrived in Fishguard. Iorwerth C.Peate was delighted, though he would have a few questions. So H.R. went ahead to organise his meeting in the Queen’s Café with the aim of ‘establishing a society for young home rulers.’

It was also true that the academic and conservative Saunders Lewis – a conservative with a small ‘c’ but a pretty big ‘C’ as well! – had caused consternation only a year earlier due to a speech he gave at the National Eisteddfod in Mold. He shook long-winded patriots by calling for the establishment of camps to teach discipline. But remember that this was Lieutenant John Saunders Lewis talking, one who had served in the trenches during the Great War and who had been injured. He stated: ‘Our condition cannot be saved by a conference but by discipline and obedience. Do not seek a conference in which all the chatterboxes of Wales can deliver useless speeches, but next year form a battalion and a Welsh camp, and every Welshman who wishes to serve his country to come there to drill together for a fortnight and obey military orders so that they work together quietly and without argument, everyone prepared to obey and to be punished if he does not do so. And do this for five years, without chatter. Drilling without weapons, and so openly and without breaking the law of any country, but by this preparing ourselves to accept laws and leadership by Welshmen. If we had a hundred or fifty or only twenty in the first year to do so, this would be Wales’ most important movement since the days of Glyndŵr. I am perfectly serious’.

It was necessary for Lewis to add that last sentence. Welsh nationalists were not supposed to talk like this. But that was the kind of frustration that was to be found among the younger generation. Saunders Lewis’ particular response was unique, foreign, and he was flayed. ‘Naked stupidity,’ said the weekly Darian newspaper in the southern Valleys of his plan. ‘The most stupid of reactionaries’ was the response of the Western Mail. ‘Hotheads who propose to give the undergraduates of the Welsh colleges military training in holiday camps!’ said the South Wales News.

The only one to express similar ideas was Ambrose Bebb, Lewis’ friend and another conservative with a small ‘c’ which had larger implications. Bebb had moved on from Aberystwyth to study and lecture at the Sorbonne university in Paris. There, Bebb came under the influence of the right wing movement of Charles Maurras. He, too, was inspired to express the need for social discipline under strong political leadership in an article he wrote in 1923. With more rhetoric than reason, Bebb succeeded in linking the names of Lenin and Mussolini as the kinds of heroes that the Welsh should consider. Very quickly, Saunders Lewis and Bebb were being known as Sinn Féin people.

So, with the weak devolutionary conferences of the Liberals having failed, the new Labour Party gaining in strength, along with the inflammatory declarations of Lewis and Bebb, the Queen’s Café crowd had a quite a lot on their plates.

And there they are arriving at the Queen’s. Among the youngsters is Gwilym R.Jones, who would later become Editor of the important weekly newspaper Y Faner. This is how he described the assembly: ‘There were some forty of us in the meeting. There were teachers, quarrymen, ministers, a doctor – and one pale salesman,’ namely H.R.Jones himself. ‘This salesman had brought together the meeting, but he said very little. Nervous, inarticulate, bungling. He wanted an “army” to defend Wales and the language.’ In an effort to have a person of status at the helm, the patriotic doctor, Dr Lloyd Owen of Cricieth, chaired the meeting. But H.R. was the catalyst for the event.

H.R.Jones was considered an expert on the history of Ireland. It must be remembered that the bloody Irish struggle to achieve freedom from the bonds of London was the background to all the home rule discussions in Wales following the end of the Great War. According to his friends, H.R.’s view was that similar radical action, including violence, was also needed to promote the cause of Welsh nationalism. Gwilym R.Jones would later quote him stating categorically, “We will never awaken a nation that has been sleeping without sacrificing more. We must suffer … blood must be spilt. Our movement is too tame, and we are too cowardly.”

Saunders Lewis would say of him, “H.R. was the only one in our midst to whom one could imagine Michael Collins giving a post, one who could not be shocked nor frightened, one who would do anything, without caring about the consequences, if that would bring the freedom of Wales closer.”

With all of this in the background, Dr Lloyd Owen declared from the chair that though perhaps a ‘militant attitude’could be welcomed to the new nationalist movement, there would be no place for ‘violence.’ His comment was supported by at least one other who roundly criticised any suggestion of what was described by him as ‘Russian or Irish methods.’But one of H.R.’s associates, Evan Alwyn Owen, argued in return that ‘introducing a little Sinn Féin’ to the movement could be helpful. Another friend, the journalist Gwilym Williams, went as far as declaring that he supported ‘marching with guns’ and that he agreed with ‘the philosophy of [Patrick] Pearse.’

No further light was shed in the Queen’s that night, however, on the question of methods. Neither was there detailed agreement regarding what kind of home rule would be of benefit to Wales. Nevertheless, it was agreed to establish a new movement. Reflecting the feeling that what was essential was a completely committed society, it was decided to name it ‘Byddin Ymreolwyr Cymru’ (the Welsh Home Rulers’ Army) and to adopt an oath of loyalty that might ensure organisational effectiveness. The emphasis, however, was on political methods. In a note for the press, H.R.Jones said, ‘We aim for home rule today not in the ruins of the United Kingdom but through arguing rationally for our rights. We, the oldest nation in Europe, demand a Parliament and a home, by which will be organised a way for our nation to develop its life along Welsh lines.’

The fact that the Queen’s Café meeting was a public event meant that the press had plenty of material with which to be critical. The North Wales Chronicle was scathing: ‘Those present,’ it said, ‘outnumbered the famous tailors of Tooley Street, but, like the latter, their ambition has brought a touch of comedy into a movement which has as much attraction for faddists as a lamp light has for moths.’

The local Herald Cymraeg was more disappointed than aggressive: ‘The meeting of home rulers of the district that was held in Caernarfon on the Saturday before last was of no help to the movement; rather to the contrary. It was entirely irresponsible and childish. It is a great shame to move ahead with such an important movement without proper preparation, and without ensuring influential speakers.’

‘Childsplay,’ complained the Darian in the south.

Gwilym R.Jones referred to what he described as bungling. Nevertheless, a meeting was held, and a public meeting at that. Being so open – inviting people to the Queen’s Café – was a very different kind of procedure to that of another nationalist movement which had been established at the start of the same year. That was created by Saunders Lewis, Ambrose Bebb and Gruffudd John and Elisabeth Williams in Penarth, in the privacy of the Williams family home. Very few knew about it because it was a secret movement. Y Mudiad Cymreig (the Welsh Movement) was the name whispered quietly among its handful of supporters. Their aim was to remain secret for an indefinite period. That would not prove difficult because they decided to use Breiz Atao, the paper of the Breton nationalist movement, as the prime medium for their ideas. Gruffudd John Williams later said, ‘The French and Breton turned many people away.’ At least the Welsh Home Rulers’ Army had made it into the headlines in the press, and, as is claimed, all publicity is good publicity.

The Queen’s Café, however, was a process not an event. H.R.Jones had set in motion an activity that would be of central importance in the development of our national movement. There was a great deal of discussion regarding the first night at the Queen’s. The problem was that there had been no clear agreement on objectives. Indeed, the Welsh Home Rulers’ Army almost came to an end, just another small, short-lived society. Some argued in favour of merging with the Bangor university student movement, namely the Tair G (the Welsh Nationalist Society). But this was opposed by the Home Rulers’ treasurer, Evan Alwyn Owen. Evan’s aim, like that of H.R., was to establish an independent nationalist party. It was agreed to meet again at the Queen’s Café on December 20 to discuss matters further. On that occasion, Evan proposed that the title Welsh Home Rulers’ Army should be dropped in favour of Plaid Genedlaethol Cymru – the Welsh National or Nationalist Party. He said that this party should raise funds, adopt parliamentary candidates, cooperate with nationalists in Scotland, and declare that Welsh membership of the League of Nations was its objective. And so it was agreed. Three months after it was established, the Welsh Home Rulers’ Army disappeared being reconstituted immediately as the Welsh National/ist Party. The place of the Queen’s Café was safe, well fairly safe, in the history books.

The Rev Lewis Valentine M.A., a Baptist minister, was chosen as President of the new National/ist Party and H.R.Jones, of course, became its Secretary. H.R. proceeded at once to try to attract more patriots from all parts of the land to join the Blaid Genedlaethol. It appears that he had heard something of the existence of the shy Mudiad Cymreig in the south, and Saunders Lewis duly received one of his letters. Wasting no time, the small, new, independent Plaid Genedlaethol began with its activities which were entirely political in nature. The Blaid protested against the Government’s aim to split up the Central Welsh Board of Education and to close the regional office of the Department of Pensions in Cardiff; it called for Welsh speaking judges for the courts of north Wales; politicians were contacted calling on them to support Welsh home rule. Central to the new Plaid was the idea that the government of Wales should be organised with the nation as its basis and that the Welsh language should be accorded respect. Specifically with regard to linguistic considerations, the pioneering fact was that Welsh was the language of this new political party, formed as it was in Caernarfon. It was through the Welsh language that it was established and began its campaigning.

Central to everything now was the need to expand membership and to place the Blaid on a national footing. The discussions between H.R.Jones and Saunders Lewis were all-important in that process. It was no easy matter to deal with Saunders Lewis. At this early stage, he insisted on a full clarification with regard to two fields of policy in particular before agreeing to join the Nationalist Party, namely regarding the status of the Welsh language and the mode of political action.With regard to language status, Lewis agreed that ‘Gorfodi’r Gymraeg’ [trans. Welsh being made compulsory] should be the language policy, as H.R.Jones had noted, but he insisted that this had to mean that Welsh would be the administrative language of local councils, and the language of schools. With regard to the nature of political action, Saunders Lewis also agreed with the aim of ‘Breaking every link with the political parties of England and Wales.’ But he went further. He insisted as well that all links should also be broken with the ‘English Parliament’ through a declaration that the Blaid would choose to work solely through the local councils of Wales. ‘Nothing will ever come to Wales through the Parliament of England,’ he said, ‘Now, if you fully adopt these two principles, I will join with you immediately.’

H.R.Jones was not one to delay. Before Saunders Lewis received a response, there was a leaflet in his hand declaring that he was already vice-president of the new party. A furious Lewis demanded an explanation. But to his friends in the secret Mudiad Cymreig, he soon stated his satisfaction that all their ideas had been accepted. They could work like a‘bloc national’ – in Saunders’ French – within the new party that had appeared so unexpectedly, so ensuring that it kept to their principles. ‘As you see,’ he said, ‘without them knowing, they are all members of our movement.’

One other matter remained. Saunders Lewis insisted that a meeting should be held to place the Blaid Genedlaethol on a national basis. The Queen’s Café, Caernarfon, had performed the inaugural miracle. Saunders Lewis would comment, ‘I believe it correct to say that H.R.Jones established the Welsh Nationalist Party.’ H.R. now went ahead to arrange a small, private meeting for seven* representatives to meet at the Maesgwyn Temperance Hotel, Pwllheli, during the National Eisteddfod of August 1925. But that’s another story.

*Only six made it to the Pwllheli meeting, D.J.Williams having missed his train.