Month: May 2024

The Passing of Bethel – part 1

A CWMTAF CHAPEL TO DISAPPEAR AT YNYSFELIN

Transcribed from the Merthyr Express 30th May 1914 – 110 years ago today.

Cwmtaf is undergoing a transformation, whereby a large number of the rural population are to be displaced by the assembling of many waters. Homesteads, which for generations have been abodes of farmers, will be lost forever, the fields and cornlands being submerged under the waters of the Cardiff Corporation Reservoir. This third and largest pond in the valley, will cover the low lying parts – the ploughshare and scythe will be used no longer, and the bleating of sheep and the lowing of kine will for ever be silenced. The shepherd’s shrill morning whistle, and the ploughman’s song, and the milkmaid’s merry tattle will be no more. Instead of the humble, yet happy life in and around the whitewashed farmhouses, silence deep and long will reign, broken only by the rippling of the waves on the water, and by the rattle of wheels and the echo of the motor’s horn. Instead of nature’s carpet of greensward, so pleasing to the eye, a sheet of water will appear, stretching far alongside the high road leading to Brecon from Merthyr. A Varied and beautiful landscape is to be changed for the monotonous sight of a tedious surface of water. The loss will be a very real one, not only in the disappearance of rich lands and fertile meadows, but in the vanishing of a panorama of “living pictures” presented annually by nature’s rolling seasons. The old order changeth. Many a dream of the past will disturb the slumbers of the evicted peasants, and many a sigh will rise in the heart of young and old who in their humble way passed through life in play and toil. The passionate heart of the poet and the contented mood of the swain will bewail the loss of their rare inheritance.

Although the lake is beautiful, yet it is not so beautiful as the sea. The two mighty things on earth are the great ocean, restless and mysterious, and nature in her various moods. The colourless, smooth area of a lake in not a worthy substitute for the glories of summer or the tints of autumn. The golden age of this spot is passing. We may aptly apply these words to the glories of the past:-

“How often have I paused on every charm,
The sheltered cot, the cultivated farm,
The never-failing brook, the busy mill,
The decent church that topped the neighbouring hill”

These were thy charms, but also these charms are fled.

Not only must the living depart, but even the shade of the dead must be changed. Their remains are to have a new resting place. Bethel, near Ynysfelin, the little shrine, where for over 125 years generations of worshippers have assembled, is to disappear, and a new Bethel has been erected lower down the valley.

On Tuesday, May 19th, a service was held to bid a last farewell to the place. It was a sad parting to most of the worshippers. The spot and edifice were hallowed to their hearts. Here for many a year their forefathers met to worship and to praise; there also lie the remains of their departed loved ones, in the adjoining graveyard. Sacred associations, too deep and too real to be expressed in words, arise from the past. The struggling pangs of conscious truth, and the experience of the peace and joy of the gospel of Jesus Christ were the portion of the humble folk who assembled within the unadorned walls of this little temple.

The chapel stands on the slopes of the hill overlooking the valley on the right bank of the Taf Fawr, and about three miles from Cefn Coed. In front of the chapel passes the road over the mountain to Penderyn. Near it are the ruins of an old corn mill (afterwards a woollen factory) worked by a huge water wheel. The usual convenient “inn” is also close by. This historic church in one f the oldest in the neighbouring districts: it was founded before any of the Nonconformist churches in Cefn, except the Unitarian Church. The first chapel (Bethel) was built in 1799, and was opened free of debt. This, however, was replaced some years later by the present structure.

Old Bethel Chapel, Cwmtaff

To be continued…..

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.

That Russian contract was not all the Dowlais Company anticipated, and from a very small cause. The drawing and specification of the rail were precise and minute, but in the drawing of the section and its figured dimensions there was a slight difference (it was really 1-10th of an inch), and this being pointed out to Mr Thomas Evans, he only berated the draughtsman for so doing.

Some thousand or more tons were made and delivered on the banks of the Neva, when lo and behold, the section was found to be incorrect. Workmen were sent from Dowlais to Russia to remedy matters, and Thomas Evans himself had one, if not two, journeys to St Petersburg. It was one of these journeys that that caused his illness and death. He is buried in the Vaynor Churchyard, and at his funeral the tears chased each other down Sir John’s cheek. This is fact, for my own eyes witnessed it.

Such a host of memories crowd on me that I scarce know where to begin. Having mentioned the Evanses, they will be first; yes, dear reader, even before Mr G T Clark, for the influence of the Evans family drove Mr Clark from Dowlais at one time.

John Evans, c 1856, William Jones, Courtesy of Cyfarthfa Castle Museum & Art Gallery

Strange, but true, that the whirligig of time should bring back a nephew of these Evanses, as not only a director, but one of the very influential ones. It is none other than Mr E Windsor Richards. Mr John Evans was, I think, the oldest, and was afflicted with gout, and being at all times hot-tempered, he was not in the best of moods while an attack of gout was on. He was of fine physique, and woe betide anyone who gave him cause for punishment.

It is said, and I believe the truth, that being upset with some intelligence from the works while confined with an attack, that he smashed, yes literally smashed, with his stick a lot of articles on his own sideboard. His position was that of blast-furnace manager. Mrs Evans was, I believe, a Miss Henry. They had two daughters, one became Mrs Simons, the other Mrs Dyke. Leaving Dowlais, Mr John Evans resided near Cardiff and is, I think, buried in Sully Churchyard.

Mr Thomas Evans’ department was, more especially, the forges and mills, but neither brother was exclusively engaged with his own part. Thomas seemed to be the upper of the trio; he was (probably from having been brought into the mingling with others) more suave. John was brusque, but had a good human heart under his ruggedness. There was one other peculiarity that others noticed. If Sir John had Thomas about him in the works, extensions or improvements were expected, but reduction of wages and or other cropping going on if John was the companion.

To be continued at a later date…….

John S. Davis, Printer, Nantygwenith Street

by Jill Morgan

In the 1851 census a John Davis and his wife Elizabeth, both born in Carmarthenshire, can be seen living in George Town. John’s occupation is given as Printer (employing 1 man). This was John Sylvanus Davis, who had served his apprenticeship in Carmarthenshire and then moved on to work for the Rev. John Jones, printer and minister in Rhydybont. This employment would change the course of his life.

It was while working for the Rev. Jones that John encountered the writings of ‘Mormon’ missionary Dan Jones – brother to the Reverend Jones. As he set the type, he was struck by Jones’ ideas and teachings to such an extent that he soon requested baptism, to become a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. Under Dan Jones’ influence, he also moved to Merthyr Tydfil and set up a printing office in Nantygwenith Street.  There, from the time when Dan Jones returned to America in February 1849 until Jones returned for a second mission to Wales in December 1852, Davis’ writing and printing output was impressive.

  • He produced Welsh language record books and other forms for the Welsh Latter Day Saint congregations.
  • Assisted by his wife and Mary Deer, another convert from Carmarthenshire, he translated into Welsh the Latter Day Saint scriptures The Doctrine and Covenants (Athrawiaeth a Chyfammodau) and the Book of Mormon (Llyfr Mormon) – a total of more than 800 pages in the modern English versions. These were published and distributed as ‘signatures’ (sections) at intervals of about two weeks, so that members could acquire the books gradually and have them bound according to their means. Athrawiaeth a Chyfammodau was completed in August 1851, Llyfr Mormon in April 1852.
  • He published a collection of more than 500 Welsh Latter Day Saint hymns, many of which he wrote the lyrics for.
  • He printed a number of Latter Day Saint tracts and pamphlets.

During this time Davis was also editing and printing issues of Udgorn Seion, the Welsh-language publication begun by Dan Jones. Some of the content was original material from Davis or other leaders of the LDS Church, some he translated from writings previously produced in English. Davis also increased the size and frequency of Udgorn Seion: from 4 to 16 sides, and from monthly to bi-weekly. In the 29th November 1851 issue, he did admit to being somewhat overwhelmed by all these responsibilities, but reassured readers that Udgorn was not being neglected because of his other work.

In 1854 John and Elizabeth emigrated to Utah Territory, where he continued to work as a printer. But for the Welsh converts to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, John Davis’ three years as a printer in Georgetown was a gift, as it enabled them to access the full range of scripture and news of the church in their native language.

Merthyr’s Chapels: Tabernacle Chapel

Tabernacle Welsh Baptist Chapel, Brecon Road

In 1834 a disagreement occurred at Ebenezer Chapel, Plymouth Street and 54 members of the congregation left, some going to Zion, Twynyrodyn and some to Carmel Chapel in Aberdare.

Because of the distance they had to travel, the worshippers who had gone to Aberdare decided that they should start their own cause in Merthyr, and so began worshipping in a room near St Tydfil’s Church. In 1836 they bought an unfinished chapel in Bryant’s Field, Brecon Road for £25 and completed it at a cost of £350.

By 1842, it was obvious that the chapel was too small, so a new chapel was built on the site of the old building at a cost of £2,200. When it was completed the new chapel was the largest chapel in Wales.

An 1877 photo showing the old Tabernacle Chapel just to right of centre at the top of the photo

By the 1890’s a movement was set in motion by Mrs Davies, wife of Alderman David Davies to provide more comfortable chapel. When Mrs Davies died, Alderman Davies took up the movement and the building of the chapel was begun.

The new chapel was designed by George Morgan of Carmarthen and would eventually cost over £5000 to build – a £1000 of which was raised by the congregation. The new chapel was opened in 1897, and is still holding services today.

The Dark Side of Convict Life – part 15

by Barrie Jones

Chapter XII. Henry recounts the difficulties of reforming and the injustice of the ‘separate system’ of imprisonment where prisoners are not permitted to talk to each other.

The Dark Side of Convict Life (Being the Account of the Career of Harry Williams, a Merthyr Man). Merthyr Express, 16th April 1910, page 9.

Chapter XII

Small encouragement is given to a man, even to take his first step towards reforming, when he is treated in such a way as already described. A convict is sent to prison to reform, but the question is, does he reform? No doubt, many of them make a daring attempt to do so, but they all fall back again into their old course, and to prove this I will just show how impossible it is and how difficult it is for a convict to make a real and true determination to amend his ways. In the year 1902 I passed a convict at Portland Prison by the name McCarty. He was undergoing a term of four years for no very great crime, for, according to his statement, he got it for sleeping on duty during active service at the time of the late South African War. He was next cell to me at Portland in the corrugated iron cells mentioned in a previous chapter, and every night just about bedtime, or what is commonly called in prison “turning in” time, I heard him muttering something to himself. Thinking the man to be a bit weak in his intellect I decided to listen to what he was saying every night. One night I was listening when I distinctly heard the man uttering fragments of the Holy Catechism. Then I came to the conclusion at once that he was a Roman Catholic, and that he was praying to the Virgin Mary. One night while I was lying down on my hammock, I could hear this poor fellow engaged in deep communion with his God. When suddenly, I heard a loud rapping at his cell door, and an officer said, “I’ve caught you at last, I’ll stop that talking for you tomorrow.” “I’m not talking sir,” answered the poor chap, I am saying my prayers.” “Saying your prayers, are you,” said the officer, “can you say them to the Governor in the morning; perhaps he would like to hear them.”

Then coming to my cell, he said, “Look here, Williams, was not that man talking to you?” “No, certainly not,” I answered, “the man is talking to his God, and not to me.” “Oh,” says he, “you’re a bit funny, too, I think, and I will wipe the pair of you up tomorrow.” So, losing my temper, and knowing he would act in accordance with his threats, I shouted out, “If you take a liberty with me, mind, I will wipe you across the lug with the stone pick as soon as I get you out in the quarry, “for I had already been punished for assaulting one of the officers for a similar liberty that had been taken with me before. I said no more, so the following day I and this poor fellow were brought before the Governor, and he was awarded one day bread and water, and to forfeit seven days remission. “They were talking so talking so loud,” said the officer, “that one could hear them from their cells to the breakwater.” Then the Governor put the same mater of form to me, “What have you got to say?” I acknowledged the threats I had used but played on the case that the officer had committed himself by threatening me and making a false accusation against me. Whereupon, the Governor said, “I must believe the officer; he would not tell a lie.” “No, sir,” I said, “there is none of them can tell a lie,” “That will do,” says he, “three days bread and water, and forfeit eleven days remission.”

Now this man who was reported with me was a devout Christian, for anyone could see that by the continual visits he received from the priest that it was no sham. Convicts do not sham in this matter. The day after he came off punishment, he sent for the priest, and told him of the liberty the officer had taken with him, and the only thing the priest said was, “Never mind, McCarty, those who suffer unjustly in this world will be rewarded in the next.” This was poor consolation for the poor fellow, who was trying hard, and God knows as hard as ever he could try to do what was right. It is utterly useless for a man to send for the chaplain or the priest for what is said to the doctors of divinity they will certainly bring out a passage of Scripture as a means of consoling one. Still, I can justly say the only true and real friend is the prison chaplain, but he does not like to interfere with the discipline side of the prison, no matter how he would wish to. I can well remember a certain chaplain speaking to me in confidence of what he had seen with his own eyes. It was the case of a poor chap being kicked by officials. “But, you know, Williams,” says he, “if I were to interfere, I would very soon be told to mind my own business. I have had complaints and complaints from you men as to the way you are treated, but I never believed it until I actually saw it with my own eyes.” But he went on to say, “You know, I am powerless how to act.” I side a great deal with prison chaplains in this matter, because I know from experience they are thorough good men, and I have even known chaplains to throw a hint or two from the pulpit and they have put it in such words that the Governor himself could make nothing of it.

It is a great mistake for anyone to believe that a man is sent to prison to reform, for he is not given a chance to do so in spite of the chaplains’ attempts to bring him nearer to God. There are officials who make it their business by the way they beat them to make the man a brute himself, in order to gain their own end.

To be continued….