Ioan Roberts had only been a reporter on Y Cymro for three months when he was asked to report on the investiture of the young Prince Charles as the Prince of Wales.
In this article, Ioan reflects on his thoughts and feelings on this event and the events that surrounded the ceremony.
Yes, I was there. To my own huge surprise, I was plonked on my triple-feathered cushion promptly at ten in the morning as instructed, although the proceedings in the castle were not due to start for several hours. The day's schedule had been meticulously chronicled in the Herald Cymraeg, edited by the arch royalist John Eilian. "Mewn cariad hefo'r bachgen main" [In love with the slim boy] proclaims the headline, and we are informed that there will be a "21 gun salute as the procession of Prince Phillip, the Queen Mother, Princess Anne, Princess Margaret and a cavalry escort depart from Ferodo".
I did not sing, and was probably the only one among the four thousand within the castle walls who was wearing jeans.
At 2.40pm there would be "a fanfare of the Royal Household echoing from the Eagle Tower to lead the Prince to the Chamberlain Tower, as everybody sang 'Tywysog Gwlad y Bryniau' ('The prince of the mountainous land'). I did not sing, and was probably the only one among the four thousand within the castle walls who was wearing jeans. That's the kind of unreal recollections I have of one of the most bizarre days of my life, the first of July, 1969.
I had only been working as a reporter on Y Cymro for three months. Little did I think when I applied for the job, that such a novice reporter would be designated to witness the ceremony that was ripping the nation apart. Furthermore, in common with many of my contemporaries I had scant loyalty to the Royal Family. But somebody had to go there, and Y Cymro only had two roving reporters, Lyn Ebenezer and myself. Lyn was friendly with Julian Cayo Evans, "self-styled Commandant of the Free Wales Army", as the press used to label him. Somebody must have decided that I, as the lesser of two evils, would get the honour.
Some people were convinced that the Labour government's announcement in May 1967, that Prince Charles was to invested as Prince of Wales within two years was a ploy to stem the growth of nationalism.
It would have been difficult to pick a more exciting year to embark on a career in journalism. We were approaching the end of the decade that saw the founding of Cymdeithas yr Iaith [Welsh Language Society], the drowning of Cwm Tryweryn, the Carmarthen by-election, Aberfan, the road-sign painting campaign and various bombings here and there. Some people were convinced that the Labour government's announcement in May 1967, that Prince Charles was to be invested as Prince of Wales within two years was a ploy to stem the growth of nationalism. Whether intentional or not, it contrived to split organisations, communities and even families. In the May 2009 issue of the magazine 'Barn', poet Gerallt Lloyd Owen, author of "Wylit wylit Lywelyn" ('You would weep, Llywelyn'), disclosed that his own mother had watched the show through an upstairs window of a bank in Caernarfon.
Things were very different at the time of the only previous investiture, in 1911. Lloyd George was the architect of the ceremony that invested the erstwhile King Edward VIII, who was eventually prised from his crown by Mrs Simpson. In those days, people saw no conflict between Welsh patriotism and imperialist splendour, and there is no record of any significant opposition.
Many Welsh people viewed things similarly in 1969. But by then, there was a significant minority - especially among the younger generation - that saw the whole charade as a national humiliation, convinced that the true lineage of Welsh princes had expired with the death of Llywelyn in 1282. The opposition was led by Cymdeithas yr Iaith Gymraeg, although this was outside their true remit of reviving the language. The society's chairman Dafydd Iwan became a symbol of anti-investiture sentiments, making him a hero to some and an arch-enemy to others.
In April 1968, George Thomas became Secretary of State for Wales. Prime Minister Harold Wilson told him at his appointment that his responsibilities would include arrangements of the investiture. The man from Tonypandy was delighted, but knew that it would not be an easy job. He claims in his autobiography that his life was threatened almost every week during that period. The day before a committee organising the investiture was due to meet in the Temple of Peace in Cardiff, the building was damaged by a bomb. "I made a speech charging the nationalists with having created a monster which they could no longer control," said George Thomas.
In the meantime, plans were afoot to send Prince Charles to Aberystwyth to learn some of the language and history of his new principality. George Thomas discloses that the college Principal Dr Thomas Parry had sent him a personal letter expressing serious concerns about the atmosphere at Aberystwyth and saying he could not be held responsible for the prince's security. But in a meeting with the principal and the Secretary of State, the Chief Constable of Dyfed said the police were confident that they would protect him from any harm. The prince arrived at Pantycelyn hall of residence in an atmosphere of incredible paranoia where students suspected one another of collaborating with the secret police.
