The Execution of Dick Tamar

In our last but one post (http://www.merthyr-history.com/?p=3174), mention was made of the arrest of Dick Tamar for the murder of his mother. Below, courtesy of Carl Llewellyn, is a transcription of the report of his confession and execution, that appeared in The Cambrian on 30 July 1842.

In a Second Edition of our last number, we published a report of the Execution and Confession of Richard Edwards, alias Dick Tamar, who at the last Assizes for this County was found guilty of the Murder of his Mother, Tamar Edwards. We this week republish the same for the information of our distant readers: –

This atrocious Criminal was executed at Cardiff this morning (Saturday). The convict was visited on Friday night by the Rev. Mr. Stacey, who remained with him for several hours. He seemed to be perfectly resigned to his fate, and frequently offered up prayers to the throne of grace for mercy in the last hour. We understand that several of the Dissenting ministers of Cardiff applied for permission to visit the wretched man, but that he declined seeing any spiritual teacher except the Reverend Chaplain, whose incessant endeavors to bring the poor creature to a proper sense of his situation, are beyond all praise.

Tamar slept soundly after the Reverend Chaplain left him. At twelve o’clock be awoke and left his bed. He expressed himself as being perfectly easy, and appeared firm and collected. At an early hour this morning (Saturday) crowds assembled round the goal, which gradually increased to about eleven thousand persons. At the dawn of day, the worthy Chaplain visited Tamar. Shortly before six o’clock, he asked for tea and bread and butter, and smoked a pipe with apparent unconcern. He observed to the Governor about this time that he was in “very good spirits”.

The Sheriff arrived at the goal at half-past seven in the morning. Edwards was then engaged in prayer with the Chaplain. Shortly before eight o’clock the Sheriff, accompanied by the officers of justice, proceeded to the condemned cell, and formally demanded the body of its miserable inhabitant. Having taken leave of the Chaplain, Edwards was placed under the hands of the executioner, who pinioned him in the cell. Dick repeatedly protested his innocence he underwent the terrible operation with remarkable firmness. The mournful procession then moved down the pathway in front of the Governor’s House, the Chaplain reading portions of the Burial Service. The convict did not show any fear, he wept slightly. Assisted by two turnkeys, he mounted the scaffold, on which he stood with the utmost firmness. Just prior to the rope being placed round his neck he said, “Hear me, I have been guilty of every crime except murder and thieving.” The fatal knot was then tied, and the cap drawn over the criminal’s face, not a muscle quivered – the bolt was then withdrawn, and Dick Tamar after one or two struggles ceased to exist. He did not appear to suffer much.

The body of the criminal was suspended for an hour, and then cut down. Several medical gentlemen were present for the purpose of taking a cast from the head.

Thus, died the Merthyr murderer whose name and crimes will be long remembered.

At the convict’s urgent request, the Holy Communion was administered him. On being asked how he felt, he said, “I have confidence, and hold fast in God’s mercy to me.” He frequently repeated the following verses, which he had committed at some previous time, to memory:-

Mae’r dydd bron myned heibio,
Mae’r haul bron myned lawr,
Mae’n amser ninnau’n tynu
Tua thragywyddoldeb mawr.
Mi af o flaen yr Orsedd,
Er dued yw fy lliw,
Pwv wyr na cha’i drugaredd,
Un rhyfedd iawn yw Duw.
O Arglwydd cladd fy meiau
Cyn fy nghladdu i,
Mewn eigion mor o angof
Sydd yn dy gariad di.
Ni alla’i ddim gwynebu,
Dydd y farn sy’ ddod,
Os na fydd claddu beiau
Cyn hynny wedi bod.

The following is a translation of the above:- “The day is nearly gone, the sun is nearly setting, and our time is drawing towards Eternity. I shall go before the judgement seat, though my crimes are so black; and who knows but that I shall obtain mercy, for God is wonderingly gracious. Oh! Lord, bury my sins before I shall be buried in the depths of Thy love; for I cannot face the day of Judgment, which is to come, unless my sins are buried before that lakes place”.

CONFESSION OF RICHARD EDWARDS.

In the early part of the week, the Culprit made the following statement to the Chaplain:-

“I was not alone when my mother came by her death There were three presents beside me. My child (10 months old), was in bed in the room. My mother died on Thursday night. When dead, two women placed my mother in bed beside my little boy, where the corpse remained until the Monday night following. The two other persons present, beside me and my wife, when my mother died, were the nearest relations of Peggy (my wife). Peggy and the other person had been in the womb of the other. These three persons told my father-in-law and my mother-in-law’s sister, that they had passed that night in Cefn Coed Cymmer. I gave my mother a blow about the jaw, because Peggy cried out that my mother was beating her. My mother fell down under my blow.

Peggy, her mother, and brother then laid hold on my mother. My mother did not speak; she groaned for some time. I saw Peggy and the other two squeezing her throat until she ceased groaning. I was in liquor: the three others were not. This happened about 12 or 1 o’clock, I cannot tell exactly, for there was no clock or watch there. And now, if Peggy had been allowed to be examined by me in the Hall, I would have made all this known then. Peggy asked me to bury her. I said I would not, I would leave her there, for I was afraid to be seen. I told them they had killed my mother. They begged me to keep everything secret. We all remained in the house till the dawn of day. I then went up to Dowlais, and the others returned home (to my father-in-law’s, as they say) and told their story about being at night at Coed y Cymmer.

I met my wife again about six o’clock the evening of the following Monday, at her aunt’s house, at Cae Draw (Jane Phillips’s) and we went together, the child in her arms, to my mother’s house. My wife placed the child in the opposite side of the bed to where my mother’s body was lying. We then together dragged the corpse out, and placed it under the bed. We continued to live in the house dining the rest of the week sleeping five nights in the bed under which the corpse lay! I was full of anxiety all the week, and on Saturday I started off the day my mother’s body was discovered, leaving my wife in my mother’s house. I was absent from Saturday until the following Wednesday, when I was apprehended in the Cast-House at Dyffryn, and wandering about.

I tell the best truth – the truth I should tell in the presence of God, where I shall he next Saturday – to you now. My blow did not kill my mother, for she groaned afterwards. Her death was caused by their meddling and scuffling with her on the ground. I know not exactly ill what manner. I mean Peggy, and her mother, and brother was scuffling with her. Neither of these three charged me at this time with having killed my mother. This is all true as I shall answer to God. I know nothing of the death of any other human being, male or female. If I did, I should confess it now, having gone so far. But I am guilty of every other sin or crime, excepting theft or murder. And now I have no more to say, having told the whole truth, and my heart is already feeling light. I began to feel lighter yesterday, when I determined and promised you to confess everything”.

The mark X of RICHARD EDWARDS

The whole of the foregoing statement was read over in Welsh by Mr. Stacey, and explained to Richard Edwards, and signed with the mark by him in my presence, this 18th day of July 1842.

JNO. B. WOODS,
Governor of the County Gaol

Did you know?

Following on from the previous article, did you know that the area behind St Tydfil’s Church (roughly where the present day Caedraw and St Mary’s Schools and the flats and maisonettes are in Caedraw) used to be known as the Isle of Wight?

The following piece by Carl Llewellyn throws some light on the derivation of the name.

The 1851 census showed the area called ‘Isle of Wight’ having 22 houses, by 1871 however, the area was actually referred to as ‘Isle of White’. There was a channel which conveyed the mill stream, passing the Rectory down through Mill Street, was extended to reach the Plymouth Works, and was known as the feeder. The Welsh for channel or conduit is “Gwyth” or Wyth”. It is probable that the feeder was constructed from the flood gates through an aforetime “Ynys” (island or meadow), which was known as “Ynys Gwyth” or “Ynys Wyth”, that is meadow of channel or conduit.

Now the Welsh name for the real Isle of Wight is “Ynys Gwyth” or “Ynys Wyth”, both forms being found. This resemblance evidently prompted someone with a sense of humour to dub the area by the feeder as Isle of Wight.

Below is an extract from an 1836 map of Merthyr clearly showing the area marked as ‘Isle of Wight’.

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.

I will now endeavour mentally to walk up the High Street. Beginning from about the old Taff Vale Station, the opening on the right led around, and came out near the Court House, while the second (there was only a public house between them) to Pendwranfach. Passing these there was a division in the road; pedestrians, if they liked, could keep the right hand one (which was the shortest of the two), but vehicular traffic kept to the left hand opening just as it is today.

The first opening on the left of this left hand opening was Cross Keys Street, on which, on the right hand side there was the ‘lock-up’. This consisted of two rooms, quite dark as far as I can remember, and the entrance doors were alongside one another. It was here, I remember, Dick Tamar being locked up for the murder of his mother. The next opening on the same side was Mill Street, and just opposite, at the entrance was the stocks. An entrance gate to the churchyard  was close to the stocks.

An extract from the 1851 Public Health Map showing the area in question

In Mill Street there was public house called the White Lion, and adjoining the residence of Mr Evans, minister of Ynysgau Chapel. Mr Evans had evidently married a widow, for there were four Miss Williamses there as well as a son whose name was Evans. Mill Street led around by the Plymouth feeder or watercourse to Bridge Street. Adjacent to the dwellings the ruins of the old mill stood. This was an old grist mill, and will be alluded to again as being of great assistance in a law suit.

The block of buildings between the right hand, or path and the left, or road, is the lower shop. In one of the two facing up the High Street, a bank (the Merthyr Bank) was kept for a while, a Mr Williams being the manager, who was also, I believe, a tallow chandler, for I know his widow and son were so at a later date. Only a short way above the junction of the path and road, on the right hand side, stands The Star, at one time the best hostelry in town, for it was here Nelson stayed on a visit to Merthyr Tydfil.

The Star Inn. Photo courtesy of http://www.alangeorge.co.uk/index.htm

Then follows an opening – Mardy Street then I believe, for the Mardy is close by. The next opening on the same side is Broad Street, and the next above on the same side Gillar Street; but before coming to Gillar Street, on the opposite side of the road, was what I will call Three Salmons Street, for the public house of that name was on its left hand side.

On the left hand from the White Lion there was nothing but the churchyard wall. The churchyard itself was higher than the road, and getting very full, the wall being kept well limed for a very good purpose. Between Mardy Street and and Broad Street there was a small shop, then the Boot, kept by James Evans, then a druggist’s shop kept by a person named Strange, and at the corner of Broad Street, a grocer’s shop kept by David Rosser. This was the name he traded in, but his full name was David Rosser Davis.

The Boot Inn. Photo courtesy of http://www.alangeorge.co.uk/index.htm

On the opposite corner of Broad Street was the Farmers’ Arms, and adjoining it, extending up to Gillar Street, was the Angel, kept by David Williams. His aunt, a Miss Teague, was there, and had, I think, an interest in it. Perhaps I ought to say when John Nixon opened on the coal at Werfa, this David Williams had an interest in the sinking, but taking more capital than anticipated, James Evans, a wine and spirit merchant, of Redcliff Hill, Bristol also joined at a later date.

To be continued at a later date…..

Merthyr’s Chapels: Bethel Chapel, Georgetown

The next chapel we are going to look at is one of Merthyr’s oldest and most important chapels – Bethel English Baptist Chapel in Georgetown.

Photo courtesy of http://www.alangeorge.co.uk/index.htm

In the early 1800’s some members of the congregation at Zion Chapel, Twynyrodyn wanted to hold services in English to cater for the increasing number of English speaking members of the chapel, so in 1806 a group of worshippers led by William and Martha Matthews and William Baldwin started meeting in a blacksmith’s shop on Tramroadside just behind the present day Hope Chapel.

It was soon found that this location was not ideal due to the noise from the blacksmith, and the group moved to a room above two cottages in Morgan Jones Court, which was situated close to where the present Tesco Store has been built. An application was made on 19 November 1806 for the room to be formally recognised as a place of worship to be called Providence Chapel. This was granted on 1 January 1807, and Rev Daniel Davies was inducted as the first minister of the new place of worship.

Rev Davies, originally from Pembrokeshire, was a very able man and an accomplished preacher, despite the fact that he was blind. At first he was very popular, even preaching at the Calvinistic Methodist Chapel at Pontmorlais, which caused a stir amongst the Calvinistic Methodist Association and also amongst the English Baptists congregation, but ultimately he fell into a less than salubrious lifestyle which angered the church, and he retired in 1812.

By 1813 the congregation had grown to such an extent that it became obvious that a larger place of worship was required. At this time, a chapel became available in Georgetown. It had been built in 1807 by the General Baptists and was called Bethel, but the congregation had quickly dwindled, so the worshippers from Providence Chapel bought the building and grave yard for £200. Following necessary repairs to the building, the new chapel opened in April 1813.

The congregation flourished so by 1826 the chapel had to be rebuilt at a cost of £495 to double the size of the seating. By 1841 the congregation had again grown so it was decided that a new chapel should be built in the town centre. The congregation left Bethel and moved to the new High Street Chapel in June 1841.

A short time after this, members of Ebenezer Chapel in Plymouth Street took over the empty chapel to cater for the members of Ebenezer from that part of the town, thus Bethel became a Welsh Baptist Chapel.

Within twenty years the congregation had dwindled whilst the congregation at the nearby Ainon Chapel grew, so in 1862 the congregations exchanged chapels. By 1893 however, the fortunes of both chapels had reversed so the congregations returned to their original places of worship.

As with most of the chapels in Merthyr, the congregation dwindled during the 1960s, and the chapel closed in the 1970s. Many schemes were mooted to use the building, but none came to fruition, and Bethel sank into dereliction and was eventually demolished in 1983.

One of the most striking features of the chapel was its interior with the seats angled towards the pulpit. This was unique in the Merthyr area. Below are two excellent photographs of the interior of Bethel Chapel courtesy of Mike Donovan.

Photos courtesy of Mike Donovan via http://www.alangeorge.co.uk/index.htm

Merthyr’s Ironmasters: Richard Crawshay

Courtesy of Cyfarthfa Castle Museum & Art Gallery

Richard Crawshay was born in 1739 in Normanton in the West Riding of Yorkshire, the first child of William Crawshay (1713–1766), a farmer, and his wife, Elizabeth (1714–1774), née Nicholson. He had three sisters. According to family tradition a bitter quarrel with his father led to the sixteen-year-old Crawshay setting out for London.

Initially starting work aged 16, he was apprenticed to a Mr Bickleworth of York Yard, Thames Street, selling flat irons in an iron warehouse, he eventually became, on Bickleworth’s retirement in 1763, sole proprietor of the business, and by the 1770s he had established himself as one of London’s leading iron merchants.

He married Mary Bourne in 1763 and they had a son William and three daughters, Anne, Elizabeth and Charlotte. Charlotte married Benjamin Hall, and became the mother of Benjamin Hall, 1st Baron Llanover.

By 1775, he was acting as the agent for Anthony Bacon, owner of Cyfarthfa Ironworks, for supplying iron cannon to the Board of Ordnance, and in 1777 he became a partner in the business. In 1786, following the death of Anthony Bacon, he took over the whole Cyfarthfa Ironworks, in partnership with William Stevens (a London merchant) and James Cockshutt. In May 1787 he took out a licence from Henry Cort for his puddling process, but the rolling mill needed was not completed until 1789. He solved the problems of the puddling process by using an iron plate for the furnace ceiling and sea-washed sand for the floor. In 1791 he terminated the partnership, which had made little profit. He continued the business alone, and had two blast furnaces, eight puddling furnaces, three melting fineries, three balling furnaces, and a rolling mill in 1794. A blast furnace was built by 1796, and a fourth in 1796. There were six by 1810. He thus developed Cyfarthfa into one of the most important ironworks in South Wales.

The Cyfarthfa Ironworks in the late 1700’s by William Pamplin – Richard Crawshay’s gardener. Courtesy of Cyfarthfa Castle Museum & Art Gallery

Crawshay was very ambitious and imperious in manner, being called ‘The Tyrant’ by some, but was without social pretension. He was active in protecting the interests of the iron trade and was a major promoter of the Glamorganshire Canal which immensely improved transport of iron to Cardiff docks.

In 1804 Samuel Homfray the proprietor of the Penydarren Ironworks made a wager with Richard Crawshay of 500 guineas that Richard Trevithick’s steam locomotive could haul 10 tons of iron along the Merthyr Tramroad from Penydarren to Abercynon. Crawshay lost the bet when Trevithick’s became the first to haul wagons along a “smooth” iron road using adhesive weight alone.

At his death in 1810, Crawshay’s estate was worth £1.5 million. In his will he left three-eighths of the Ironworks to his son William Crawshay, three-eighths to his son-in-law Benjamin Hall and two-eighths to his nephew Joseph Bailey.

Journalism or literature?

On 27 February we saw a marvellous article from the Merthyr Telegraph, anticipating the imminent closure of the Penydarren Works. Transcribed below is yet another remarkable piece that appeared in the same newspaper 160 years ago today (11 June 1859), written in the aftermath of the closure of the works. Yet again it hard to believe that this is only a newspaper article, not an excerpt from a great literary masterpiece.

BREAKING UP!

Early and late, in plain garb and with downcast look, our working men may be seen trudging from their old homes at Penydarren, bearing their little all in a bundle, on the mandril or spade, that is to earn their meal in other scenes. The spectacle is a saddening one, look at it in whatever light we may. It is too late in life for the majority to begin the world again. In youth, wifeless, childless, free and light of heart as a German ‘prentice lad, a ramble through the hedge-mapped landscapes of England might have benefited the pocket and improved the mind, but now, unthinkingly and in utter ignorance of this calamity at Penydarren, a host have struck the roots deeply and ramified them extensively in the soil of their motherland. And this up- rooting, how it breaks “old ties;” how it sunders those whom God has knit together? “Tush,” says the prosy matter of fact man, “these common men and women look differently at these things, and feel little, and that little only through physical suffering.” A bad excuse – human affections and feelings are the same all over the world – hearts beat as strongly under homely flannel as fine linen – very often stronger; by accident the vagaries of that unstudied science – chance – and the tailor and dressmaker’s art, which give us our distinctions. There is more virtue in silk than calico – broad-cloth surpasseth corduroy.

Year after year time has cemented these working people together;- from childhood to age the tendrils of love or friendship, religion or home, have been wound round the objects of their affection, rendering the dissolution, when the parting hour comes, more severe and unfortunate. Banished as it were from their resorts and connections – sent adrift to seek bread – the majority now in life’s sober autumn, who dare say that the fate of many will be a happy one? Past incidents tell us that many will find a home in the village church-yards and town cemeteries of distant shires; that some will rest from their weary wanderings in the unfenced, unmonumental, burying grounds of the sea, while their families parade in the uniform of poverty, and their wives live upon our charity. Yet, in common with our friends, we pray for the success of these wanderers, and trust that though fortune may exhibit her caprices as of yore, the migration of the working band will be attended on the whole with prosperity.

Merthyr Telegraph – 11 June 1859