Gwaith Goronwy Owen Cyf II/Patriotism
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PATRIOTISM.
[At Richard Morris, Awst 10, 1753]
CONCEIVE some hopes of the possibility of retrieving the ancient splendour of our language, which cannot possibly be better done than by the methods pointed out by your Society; viz., by laying open its worth and beauty to strangers, and publishing something in it that is curious and will bear perusing in succeeding ages. Some performances cannot fail to draw on them the eyes and excite the curiosity of strangers:— strangers, did I say? Good God! what if we find our own countrymen the greatest strangers to it? I blush even to think it; but I am afraid. the reflection will be found too just on Cambria's ungrateful, undutiful sons.
An egregious instance of this I met with last week at my own house. For having been invited some time ago to an afternoon's drinking at a neighbouring clergyman's house, according to the custom of this country, I invited him again to my house, and desired he would bring a country-man and a namesake of mine, who is the curate of a neighbouring parish, along with him, for I was desirous of creating and cultivating an acquaintance with him as he was a Welshman and a man of very good character for learning and morals. My desire was accomplished. The gentleman came; and, to complete the happiness of the day, Mr. Brooke, my patron, made me a present of some rum and other things, and honoured me with his company. When we were set, the pleasure I expressed at seeing a country-man at this first interview, turned the topic of the discourse upon Wales and the Welsh tongue. Mr. Owen, like an honest Welshman, owned that he was a native of Montgomeryshire, which pleased me well enough. But being asked by my patron, who, though an Englishman, has a few Welsh words which he is fond of, "whether he could speak or read Welsh," I found the young urchin was shy to own either, though I was afterwards that same day convinced of the contrary. Then, when they alleged it was a dying language, not worth cultivating and so on, which I stiffly denied, the wicked imp, with an air of complacency and satisfaction, said, there was nothing in it worth reading; and that to his certain knowledge the English daily got ground of it; and he doubted not but in a hundred years it would be quite lost. This was a matter of triumph to my antagonists; but to me it was such a confounding, overthrowing blow, as would certainly have utterly ruined and destroyed me out of the way, but that I have a queer turn of mind that disposes me to laugh heartily at an absurdity, and to despise ignorance and conceitedness. But he is not the first I met with of that stamp. Let them say so, and wish it so, if they will. But be not you discouraged in your laudable undertaking. And be sure, if I can but contribute my mite towards it, it shall not be wanting. I shall always think it my duty and greatest pleasure so to do.