Becoming a Bard

Becoming a Welsh Bard

The way one becomes a Welsh bard has changed throughout time.  Adopting an historical perspective, I will here present several different pathways, spanning several significant eras.  I’ll also give a short description of how I came to be called a bard.

At the onset, let me state clearly that, despite those varied pathways, there has always been one element of consistency concerning bardic accreditation:  One may not simply call oneself a bard.  “Bard” is a title that is bestowed upon a poet by someone else.  No one is a bard until someone else calls them one!

So, who gets to name a bard?  The difficulty in answering this question may be laid squarely at the feet of the Romans, specifically, Suetonius Paulinus.  In 60-61 CE, Paulinus led a successful assault against the druidic college on the island of Môn (Anglesey in English).  Until then, the druids controlled who was and was not a bard.

In the vacuum created by the loss of druidic control, Welsh tradition slowly solidified into law.  A great king, Hywel Dda (880-950 CE) codified those laws into a magnificent collection that continues to influence Wales to this day.  The laws of Hywel Dda show clearly that there were differing categories of poets, each of whom had specific rights and responsibilities.  At the top, the pencerdd (head of the song), was the courtly poet singing to royal households.  These were the high bards of antiquity.  They controlled the genealogy, history and mythology of the princes and kings.  The pencerdd were wealthy noblemen, poets and harpers of distinction.  Each was retained (and compensated) by a patron.  Their privileges, defined by law, included food, money and cloth for suits of livery.  Existing penceirddiaid determined who could be admitted to their ranks.  The role was often hereditary.

Again, war disrupted the transmission of culture in Wales.  With sword and treachery, Eward Longshanks (Edward I, 1239-1307 CE) conquered Wales for England.  The Welsh nobility was figuratively, and often literally, decapitated.  In one fell swoop, the penceirddiaid lost their patrons.  Welsh bardic traditions languished in the wilderness with brilliant, but unofficial bards, such as Daffydd ap Gwilym (1320-1370 CE).  In addition, Welsh clergy, particularly Einion Offeriad (fl. 1330 CE), fearing the loss of culture, gathered examples of Welsh poetic techniques and meters into manuscripts that eventually became bardic textbooks.

The Tutor family, victorious in the War of the Roses (1455-1487 CE), brought a Welshman to the throne of England.  For a brief time, all things Welsh were in vogue in London.  Y Ddraig Goch (the Red Dragon) pennant flew from royal castles. Welsh bards and harpers had the ear of the king, but the Tudors went extinct when Elizabeth I (1533-1603 CE) died without an heir.   Her successor, James VI of Scotland became James I of England (1566-1625 CE).  He had no use for Welsh bards.  Back to the wilderness we went.

In the eighteenth century, successful London-dwelling Welsh ignited an enthusiasm for antiquity.  While many scholars and poets wrote and published for this audience, one name rises above the others, Edward Williams of Glamorgan (1747-1826 CE).  Williams, known by his bardic name of Iolo Morganwg was a poet, essayist, collector, copyist and forger of incredible energy.  His talent and knowledge is legendary, but his academic credentials are tainted by his habit of mixing his own brilliant forgeries in with authentic relics from antiquity.

In 1792 Iolo Morganwg reestablished (or perhaps created out of whole cloth) the Gorsedd Beirdd Ynys Prydain, literally “The British Isle’s Bardic Throne”.  In common usage, the Gorsedd is the college of Bards.  It continues to this day, and the two most common pathways toward bardic accreditation stem from Iolo’s work, and the Gorsedd.

The first of these pathways toward bardic accreditation is the eisteddfod.  Eisteddfodau are musical and poetic competitions which culminate in the chairing of a bard.  Indeed, eistedd means to be seated.  Judges, often from the Gorsedd, bestow a chair upon the winner of the poetic competition.  To receive one of these ornate, throne-like chairs, is to become a bard.

The second pathway toward bardic accreditation was painstakingly enumerated by Iolo.  The bardic candidate must study Welsh language and literature.  They need to build their own harp and learn to play it.  Twenty-four separate metrical forms of poetry, as detailed by Einion Offeriad, must be mastered.  The alliterative techniques of cynghanedd, used to adorn verse, are required to be demonstrated throughout.  A masterwork, or magnus opus, is required, and a general officer of the king or queen, knowledgeable in Welsh literary traditions, must name the candidate a bard.

This second pathway was mine.  In 2015, having demonstrated that I met each of the requirements, I was named as the bard Gruffydd Hirwallt (Longhaired Griffith) by Raymond Pritchard in his poem “Hanes Telyn Cymraeg.”  This stands as one of my proudest achievements.