Barchus Lywydd, Annwyl Gyfeillion.
It’s a great honour to stand here today and to be associated wih the name of one of the greatest 20th century Bretons, Yann Fouere.
I would like take you back to the very unstable atmosphere which surrounded many like Yann Fouere after the war, 65 years ago – because I was there, in those turbulent times after 1945. It was the very time that, in 1946, I started teaching English in Dinan. I was 21, and the 1 year became 2. My next year in Rennes University again became another 2, which gave me a grand total of 4 years – a record for any Welshman in those years in Brittany – before having to return to Wales to find a permanent job!
Those were turbulent years in Britany, and brought me, I think I can say, a solitary Welshman in Brittany, into close touch with some very loyal Bretons and some not-so-loyal Bretons – some who had watchfully conducted themselves during the nazi occupation, like the artist and painter Xavier de Langlais and the ship-broker Pierre Mocaer (who had learnt Welsh), others who had been overt in their carelessness (like Taldir, Head of the Breton Gorsedd), others yet again who had turned their back on old friends once the war was over, such as Fanch Gourvil (who had, many years before, spent several months learning Welsh in Blaeau Ffestionog, and was very knowledgeable about Breton literature and history). Xavier de Langlais, kept his family fit by living on the 5th floor overlooking a busy street in Rennes – with no lift! And Xavier was one of the truest friends of Yann Fouere – this comes out very clearly when you read Yann’s books.
Over my first Easter, 1947, as a result of much criticism of France in our Welsh press, a high powered delegation of National Eisteddfod Council dignitaries were invited to Brittany by the French Embassy in London to undertake, with no let or hindrance, their own investigation into the accusations-of-betrayal-and-siding-with-the-Nazi occupiers. They were really Hoelion Wyth – because they were eight!
The Dean of Rennes University invited me to accompany them on their journey around Brittany in what was a pre-war and very uncomfortable little 12-seater bus, which I shared at close quarters with W J Gruffydd, leader of the delegation, conveniently crowned with a D Litt by Rennes University, and who could hardly exercise his authority as leader of the group by preventing a young sappling of a teacher from accompanying him, and Dyfnallt, and Cynan, and D. R. Hughes, and Canon Maurice Jones, and Crwys, and Professor Morgan Watkin, and W. Emyr Williams.
To quote the hallowed phrase, it was all “aux frais de Marianne” – all expenses paid by the French government! And we were given the best accommodation wherever we went. The delegation’s report, duly presented to the French Embassy in London, was unanimous, and highly critical of the harsh treatment meted out out to many totally innocent Bretons. The report was widely reported in the press and was not without influence in high places.
Dewi Watkin Powell (later Judge Dewi) had been to Brittany a few months before I arrived in October 1946, on behalf of “Y Faner” to plead the innocence of the scholar and author Roparzh Hemon. Dewi had been targeted by the Chief of the French Government’s very covert investigation Office in Rennes, Monsieur Le Nan, and invited to lunch. Dewi reported his visit in “Y Faner”. It was widely read.
Innocent Bretons were being locked in prison on false accusations – it was a time when such behaviour flourished, often based on old personal feudsn that had nothing to do with collaboration with the nazi occupying forces. Yann spent a year in a number of prisons. I discovered that my name was etched in bold ink on the secret police list of potential suspects throughout my 4 years.
Surprise, surprise! I in turn received a kind invitation to lunch by the same Monsieur Le Nan who had tried to corner Dewi and got short shrift in the process. Le Nan was an inquisitorial little man whose only aim for the next two hours was to find out who I knew and what I might reveal – of others and of myself. I needed to box carefully. I didn’t even tell him that I had flouted the French legal system by ingratiating myself with the St Malo customs officials on returning to Wales on holiday, and arranging with them that I should, on my next holiday in Wales, return bringing them lots of “cigarettes anglaises” and accompanied with a well arranged 6 brand new bagpipes from Scotland, which passed through effortlessly and thence to the safe possession of Polig Montjaret and the Breton biniou revival movement.
But he might have flouted such small fry. He was fishing for more. The menu was delicious, and by now I had come to learn to savour the extreme range between Algerian plonk of school meals and and top claret in the Headmaster’s precious cellar, which, to quote that hybrid French word that I had become used to, was “extra”! The fact that I enjoyed the meal was the only confession I made to him! He never invited me for lunch thereafter!
I had indeed got to know several Bretons whose firm loyalty had been to Brittany and its language, like Yann and his fellow founders of Ar Brezhoneg er Skol. I had known them at their homes, and was asked by them to address larger groups about Wales. I had become a celeb! BUT – Would some of my regular letters to my parents be intercepted? I devised my personal code when I had something risky to say when writing home. My parents and sisters, equipped with my de-coding details, were able to decipher my letters and keep up-to-date with some of what was going on.
I soon got to know Xavier de Langlais well, and it was he who first told me about Yann, and his enormous work for the Breton language before and during the years of occupation, including founding Ar Brezhoneg er Skol. When I told him I would be going back to Wales for Christmas, he entrusted me with a very special letter to Wales, addressed to Dr Moger, which I would deliver to Professor Morgan Watkin. Dr Moger was, of course, Yann Fouere, and was the maiden name of his wife, but spelt differently! Yann had begun living in incognito safety in the home of Gwynfor Evans. So I duly reported to Professor Morgan Watkin with the precious letter from Yann’s family, who mercifully, were to join him later.
Since those troubled and turbulent times into which I had as it were innocently parachuted shortly after the war, some old acquaintances of mine in Brittany have mellowed over the years and moved on to respect Yann greatly for his contribution to the self-respect of his fellow Bretons, who have always had to struggle for recognition in the wake of the 1789 concept of Egalité.
I had to wait many years before I met Yann in Brittany – he wasn’t the easiest to track down! It was the 11th of October 1993, when Rhiannon and I were on one of our regular visits to Brittany, and managed to catch Yann this time at home in Evran, 4 or 5 miles from Dinan, in his old family home “Le Plessix Breil”. We spent many precious hours in his company. He gave us a copy of two books, including “La Maison du Connemara”, the English translation of which by his daughter Rozenne is being launched this evening. We have both been in contact with each other, Rozenn and I, by email for several years, but the only likeness of her we have had before this week has been a photograph of her as a 3 year old little girl with her parents!
But I want to thank and congratulate Rozenn also for having set up on the internet a very splendid Fondation Yann Fouere. It is full of important information and photographs. It also includes all chapters of this evening’s book – but I hope you all depart shortly with your own paper-and-print copy. Please visit the internet soon and discover the wealth of documents and information Rozenn has put together.
I am honoured to stand here and mention the name of one of the finest men I have been privileged to know and to know about, Yann Fouere, who has dedicated his life to the rights of an endangered sister nation, which, sad to say, still doesn’t have its own National Library.