Memories of Old Merthyr

We continue our serialisation of the memories of Merthyr in the 1830’s by an un-named correspondent to the Merthyr Express, courtesy of Michael Donovan.

Mr William Davies was the forge and mill manager at Cyfarthfa, and Mr John Jones, the furnace manager at Ynysfach. Mr Wiltshire was the vet or farrier (for the Veterinary College had not so many members then), but others also occur to me in other spheres of labour.

John Pritchard was the weigher on the top of the yard (approaching Gellideg). He was the father of the Dr Pritchard many of your readers may recall, living in High Street, opposite Glebeland Street. There was also a weigher at Ynysfach yard some few years later whose name I wish to mention; it was John Morgan, and his contributions to the mathematical part of the Gentleman’s Magazine of that time is ample evidence of his knowledge.

Possibly some of the descendents of those mentioned yet exist, and may read this – some can be recalled. Mr Davies, the mill manager had two daughters, one became Mrs John James (draper). Mr James married a Miss Kirkhouse, Llwyncelyn, an elder sister (half sister really) of the Rev Howell Kirkhouse. I do not think they had a family; nor can I recall either of Mr Jones’ brothers – William, who went to North Wales; or Charles, who went to London – having any; perhaps he (Charles) made up for it by becoming the secretary of the Welsh Girls’ School at Ashford.

William Crawshay II by an unknown artist. Courtesy of Cyfarthfa Castle Museum & Art Gallery

At the present time, when ‘combines’ for trade purposes are rife, and ever and anon a paragraph appears respecting what Mr Robert Thompson Crawshay said he would have done of the workmen had fallen in with his views, perhaps it may be appropriately state what Mr Wm. Crawshay did do in order to meet the varying conditions of demand for produce.

No matter what the marketable produce may have to be – whether bars, rails, sheets or slit rods – all were made from puddled bars rolled to 3 and 3½ inches wide and one-half to five-eighths thick; these were all cut when hot to suit the length of the ‘pile’, as a rule these may be about 18 inches only. After being cut to the length they were taken to an open place – there was one in front of what was afterwards erected and called the Pandy Mill – where they were packed up in the form of a shed, with the roof on, say 16 feet or 18 feet long, 12 feet wide, and 10 feet to the commencement of the slope forming the roof. The weight of one of these ‘houses’ would be about 500 tons. In very bad times, many of these would be built; I think as many as twenty have been seen at one time at the spot indicated, besides others elsewhere, so that there was a stack of 20,000 tons ready for working off when the demand required.

The value of a ton of puddled bars varied from £3 up, so that if 20s were added to the value, there was a virtual profit of about 30 percent on the full amount. Tin-plate manufacturers work for stock occasionally, and the pig-iron manufacturers can deposit their produce and obtain an advance thereon, but rail makers, or bar-iron makers cannot do so to a great extent. In the one case, because of the section, on on the other, the difficulty of avoiding the oxidation. Is it any wonder that the Crawshays are wealthy?

“Cyfarthfa Ironworks at Night” (1825) by Penry Williams. Courtesy of Cyfarthfa Castle Museum and Art Gallery

To be continued at a later date.

Merthyr’s Heritage Plaques: Richard Trevithick

by Keith Lewis-Jones

Richard Trevithick

Monument sited at CF47 0LJ
Frieze sited at Tesco car park CF47 0AP

Richard Trevithick from Camborne in Cornwall was carrying out work on the stationary steam engines at the Penydarren Iron Works for Samuel Homfrey. For some time he had been experimenting on self-propelled steam vehicles. Whilst at Penydarren, he had the opportunity to try his railway locomotive on the Penydarren Tramroad.

On 21st February, 1804, Richard Trevithick’s locomotive was used to haul a train of 10 tons of iron and 70 passengers along the Penydarren Tramroad from Merthyr to Abercynon (then known as Navigation), a distance of nearly ten miles. This was the first steam engine to haul a load on rails!

 

The Dark Side of Convict Life – part 1

by Barrie Jones

This is a transcript of the serialisation of Henry William’s life of crime and his terms of imprisonment, titled The Dark Side of Convict Life, covering a total of twenty-three chapters in editions of the Merthyr Express from the 29th January 1910 to the 2nd July 1910. Henry’s prison records mark him as one of ‘imperfect’ education and the serialisation’s grammar suggests that the account of his criminal career was in part ‘ghosted,’ probably by a journalist at the Merthyr Express. Further research into Henry’s early life and details of his crimes and court judgements, show that Henry omitted or glossed over some aspects of his life of crime. Also, his life of crime extended well beyond the date his ‘memoir’ was written.

The Dark Side of Convict Life (Being the Account of the Career of Harry Williams, a Merthyr Man). Merthyr Express, 29th January 1910, page 12.

Introductory

My Dear Readers, – It is my sincere desire and wish that all those who have taken a wrong step in life will check, before it is too late, their evil courses, which is certain in the end to bring them to destruction. I do not for one moment, dear readers, accuse you of wrongdoing. God forbid! But to quote the words of the Bible: “Watch, lest ye also fall into condemnation.” It is a very easy thing to get into trouble. But, oh! how hard it is to wipe off the stains. We not only disgrace ourselves, but also our innocent loved ones. I do not think there is a single soul on God’s earth who has not experienced trouble of some description or other. Some people’s troubles are greater than others; some sins are more serious than others, but they are all considered equal in the sight of God, but, as it says in Holy Scripture, “Though thy sins be as scarlet they shall be white as wool.” Therefore, I wish to give you an insight into my own past life, of what nature sin is, and how far it will go to spoil our happiness. In my narrative I will relate the sufferings of poor unfortunate, shall I say pieces of humanity, and the things practised within the walls of our British Convict Prisons, hoping not to weary my readers too much.

Chapter I.

My sole object of choosing the “Dark Side of Convict Life” as the title of my narrative, is simply because I know of no bright side to the life of a poor convict. To begin with, I was once the son of a middle-class boot and shoe manufacturer, and my father was well known within the circle of influential tradesmen as a keen man of business. When I was a little lad rumours had been floating about that he was the heir to an extensive estate, which ultimately fell into the hands of the now Viscount Lord _______. Measures were adopted to restore the estate, but without success, as the will, somehow or other, had been buried or burned. Thus, fate was against father as it has since been against me. When I was not much more than three years of age I was sent to the Cyfarthfa Infants School, and after going through my course there as a child, I was transferred to the Georgetown Board School. I had a very good master, Mr. Jones by name, and a thorough gentleman; a man who knew how to work a school without a great deal of trouble with his pupils. He was also well respected, and well-liked by parents of lads placed under his care. Some of these old schoolboys are now men of position in the world, and some have drifted downwards like myself; but it was not for want of care and attention. Mr. Jones always did his best to bring us up as men, and apart from his teaching he trained us in physical drill. Some people are too apt to believe that the condition of a man is due to his brining up in the past, but nothing of the kind, for no matter how a lad has been brought up it does not follow that he will continue that course all through life.

Some people are born to be unfortunate, and I am one of those unfortunates. Still, it says in the Bible that “The rod and reproof giveth wisdom, but a child left to himself bringeth his mother to shame.” Now, that is quite the opposite in thousands of cases, Still further it says, “Correct thy son, and when he is old he will not depart from it.” That is quite correct, but have I not been corrected? When I was young was I not brought up in the midst of Christianity? Yes, I was but I departed from it. Yes, I am sorry to say I have, but it was not for the want of trying to do better, for I really have tried to live down the past, but I have been overtaken each time by misfortune. As General Booth says in his book on “Darkest England,” “That he believes there is a certain time for the turning point in each man and woman’s life, and I believe that time has come for me.”

I left school at the age of thirteen, and although not very classical, I managed to learn my three “R’s”. My mother then placed me with a well-known Merthyr chemist, but I did not use the pestle and mortar very long before I showed signs of a longing for more active work. In short, I wanted to work in the pits, but my mother had such a dread of the coal mine that she would not think of allowing her pet boy (for such I was considered that time) to go to work underground, for she had seen so many during her life carried home killed. My father said, “Let the lad go to work in the pit, it will make a man of him.” But, in the end, it nearly made a corpse of me. My mother had to give in, and before very long I was equipped ready to start as a collier boy. I was not long working underground before my dear old mother’s fears were realised. I was working with a miner by the name of William Haman in the six feet seam at the Cwm Pit Colliery, and one day I was engaged upon my knees filling the coal box when suddenly without the slightest warning, part of the roof gave way, and a large stone about two tons came crashing down within a foot of me. Fortunately for me it only struck the box, but the box tamped up, and dealt me a violent blow on the head, tearing back with its sharp edge nearly half my scalp. I at once fell unconscious to the ground, and when I awoke I found myself at home and in bed all bandaged up, the doctor having sewn my head right round from ear to ear. It was one of the narrowest escapes known to have occurred in a coal mine, for if I had been one foot further in towards the sea I should have been smashed beyond recognition. This was only the beginning of my troubles.

To be continued…..

Happy New Year

I hope you are continuing to enjoy reading this blog. I certainly enjoy putting it together as I am learning so much about Merthyr’s varied history. I would like to thank everyone who has contributed articles over the last year – they have all been fascinating, and I hope that there will be many more contributions this year.

Anyone who has anything they would like to share with us, please do – I really appreciate all the help that I get from people submitting articles – it really keeps the blog fresh, and it also takes some of the blind panic off me trying to think of interesting pieces to keep the blog going. I’m sure you can come with far more interesting things than I can!!!

If anyone would like to contribute something to this blog – please get in touch. It doesn’t matter if you are a seasoned historian or a first-timer – if you feel that you have something you would like to share, send me a message via the e-mail address to the right.

Give it a go – I would love to hear from you.

I would also like to thank everyone who has made a donation to help keep the site going – it really does make it so much easier to keep the site up and running. Your generosity is greatly appreciated.