Month: September 2024

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.

After Mawdesley left Dowlais, Mr Dodd came to the Ivor Works. He had previously been at engineering works in or near Glasgow, and it was then intended to make superior things. He brought some foremen with him from Scotland: one Mr Wm. Kemp stayed on, but the foreman fitter did not, and after his term of engagement was up Mr Dodd himself returned.

Lady Charlotte Guest. Photo courtesy of Cyfarthfa Castle Museum & Art Gallery

If able I should like to describe what can even now be very vividly remembered. It is a party of gentlemen and a lady: the lady was Lady Charlotte, the others Sir John, Mr E J Hutchins (his nephew), one whose name is forgotten now, and Mr Edward Dirett. They were walking across the yard, and went into Dowlais House altogether. Mr Dirett was the M.P. for Exeter. Mr Hutchins afterwards became member for Lymington. I almost think Kitson, the private secretary, was also of the party.

Why was such a thing impressed upon me? I will tell you. I had on a suit of fustian, and up to a short time previously had only consorted with broad cloth. I felt my position. I was a workman. David Davies was the foreman pattern maker; John Lewis, the foreman fitter; and John Price the foreman smith. Guess my surprise upon one occasion by being asked to give the equation of a curve of the second order by the owner of a brawny arm named David Jones. It was given him.

We youngsters were in the habit of giving each other mathematical questions. Alas, I think all are gone. H V Trump, who died a few years ago at Rhymney, was one; Wm. Llewellyn (who went to America) another; and Josiah Richards (a cousin), not of the same name, the brother of Windsor, a third. There was one workman in the fitting shop named Thomas Wheatley, the best handicraftsman ever met with. He was also the highest wageman, but his pay did not appear correct on the ticket. To avoid it being known he used to go to the office at stated times for the difference.

Dickenson, who became the chief Government inspector of mines was an underground surveyor. He married one of Mr Thomas Evans’ daughters. Thomas Evans’ son, Thomas, also became an inspector of mines. Shortly after his appointment an action was brought against the Dowlais Company for non-compliance with the Act of Parliament, and many experts were enraged. This “battle of the gauges” will be found pretty fully stated in  the book of colliery law, written by the late John Coke Fowler., who was the stipendiary magistrate before whom it was brought.

Edward Williams began his career in iron making in Dowlais, and he was there with Menelaus, and some others can be remembered, but they must pass at the moment.

To be continued at a later date……

The Dark Side of Convict Life – part 19

by Barrie Jones

Chapter XVI. Henry recounts his medical examination and his transfer to Parkhurst Prison, Isle of Wight. At this time Parkhurst catered for the infirm and ‘weak minded’ convicts, consequently the prison regime was not as hard as in other penal institutions.

The Dark Side of Convict Life (Being the Account of the Career of Harry Williams, a Merthyr Man). Merthyr Express, 7th May 1910, page 9.

Chapter XVI

At a quarter past five on Tuesday the 12th of July 1904 Portland Prison bell rang out its chimes, the last chimes that I was to hear in that dreadful place. I was fast asleep in the strong cell in the hospital when the night nurse came and knocked at my door. “Are you awake, Williams,” says he. “Well, I’m not quite dead yet,” says I. “Why, your worth a hundred dead ones yet,” he replied. “Anyway,” says he. “Get ready, for you leave here at half-past six.” So up I jumped, put on my shoes, and was ready almost before he had said the last word.

My heart throbbed loudly as the bell itself, when I heard I was to be transferred to the Isle of Wight. They gave me my breakfast, which consisted of one pint of hot milk, half pound of white bread, and one ounce of butter, which I did not forget to eat, for I had forgotten all about the stomach pump. Shortly after breakfast in came the medical officer. “Well, Williams, my lad,” says he, in a kind, fatherly way, “how do you feel this morning?” “Well, just about the same as usual, sir,” says I. “Have you eaten your breakfast?” says he. “Yes, sir.” I replied. He then proceeded to examine me in order to see whether I was fit to travel. That done, he gave me a bit of his advice, saying, “Your heart is perfectly sound, Williams, and it is my opinion that if you will look after yourself when you get to Parkhurst you will very soon be better, but do not get excited, and keep perfectly calm.” I then said, “I suppose, sir, you are sending me to my last camping place.” “Oh, dear, no,” says he. “You must not think of dying yet. Your organs are all perfectly sound, and I do not see why you should not keep them sound.” “But I have a very weak stomach, sir.” says I. “Well, that may be.” Says he, “but people with delicate stomachs live to a great age sometimes. And I am sending you to the Isle of Wight because the climate is milder. Oh, you will be all right.”

With that he left me. He had not left me five minutes when in came the Chief Warder with a pair of handcuffs and a chain, which he proceeded to place upon my wrists. Having done so he led me up to the front gate, where I slipped into cab, and was driven to Portland railway station, where I got into a train for Southampton. The journey was rather a pleasant one, although I kept thinking it was my last, but I was afterwards told I was not transferred to the Isle of Wight on the grounds of any organic disease, but sent there as a weak-minded convict, and when there I should not be subjected to the prison rules but placed under medical observation. I should be allowed to converse with my fellow convicts and receive hospital diet, and be employed on light labour in the open air. Of course, this information I received in confidence on the condition I would not breath it even to my ten ounce loaf for the hospital nurse who accompanied the Chief Warder in charge of me was a very good man to me during the time I was in Portland. I owe my life to him, for if it had not been for the kindness which he placed at my disposal I should be on the hill in Portland convict cemetery, instead of transferred to the Isle of Wight. Therefore, I do not wish to place in print even his initials, but I should very much like to place him on the roll of heroes of everyday life.

After a few hours’ travel by rail I reached Southampton. I stepped out of the train into a cab, which was to take me to the pier-head, a couple of miles away. Arriving on the landing stage I was led on board ship, the Princess Beatrice, which took me across the water to the Isle of Wight, landing at a place called Cowes. I got off the ship into a cab, which was waiting to take me to Parkhurst Prison, a distance of six miles. After a pleasant little journey, passing the late Queen’s Island home, Osborne House, I at last arrived at the Prison gates, and was taken to the separate cells, searched, and then placed in a cell. My heart nearly fell from my side to my feet, and my brain swam around like the sea I had crossed when I found myself in prison again after such a beautiful sniff of sweet liberty. I was not in my cell long before the door was flung open, in came the doctor, attended by the hospital nurse, for he wore a red-cross upon his arm. “Well, my lad,” says the doctor, “Williams is your name, is it not?” “Yes, sir,” says I. “How do you feel after your journey?” “Downhearted,” I replied. “Oh,” says he, “do not make yourself ill. You must cheer up. You will be alright. I will take care of you,” says he, in his kind way. He then examined me, as is the usual custom, and ordered the nurse to take me into the hospital, and when there, I must confess, the doctor treated me with every possible custom, and he continued to do so all through my time, but I had some more trouble to go through even there, for although the doctors treat a man kindly they do not know that their orders are violated. In my next chapter I will give the account of my life in Parkhurst Prison.

To be continued……