Dowlais Market – The Melting Pot

Dowlais through German eyes….yet again

In January, I published an article regarding the Prince of Saxony’s visit to Dowlais (https://www.merthyr-history.com/?p=8138). Here is a transcription of another German visit from “Dawlais Works, die Eisen- und Schienen-Walzwerke des Hauses John Guest, in London, 1844” by Carl Klocke.

Anticipation mounts and, finally, at the end of the valley, where the mountains close in, lie the Dowlais works, and to the left and across the top of the peak is the hamlet Dowlais with a few protruding small churches and chapels. As we approach the place, our coachman identifies one of them as Sir John’s chapel, for it was Sir John Guest himself who had it built, then there is Sir John’s market hall and his estate situated directly above the works; next, the garden for Sir John’s horses and the three horsemen on an outing who are passing us, are none other than Sir John’s surgeons. Our omnibus terminates in front of a small, neat guesthouse on the High Street of Dowlais and we are finally at the end of our journey. One can hear the steam engines at work and the roar of the bellows; from the windows on the upper storey one can see the flickering flames of the blast furnaces which, like a nearby fire storm, then illuminate the bedrooms at night and it takes some adjustment in order to fall peacefully asleep. …

Yet, one would not have seen Dowlais properly without having gone for a walk over the surrounding heights during the late evening hours. At Dowlais, Sir John can offer his guests illuminations and fireworks every evening. By comparison, the famous fireworks of the Surrey Gardens in London (where they fabulously depict the Great Fire of London in the year 1666) are but child’s play. The blast furnaces resemble a burning city, whereas further below, the fires and forges, together with the illuminated tall chimney stacks of the steam engines, looks like a city which has just recently burnt down. In the evening light, the not quite extinguished slags gleam like glowing lava; raised up to towering heaps, here and there on the outermost edge of tall mountains, they flow to the valley like burning streams of lava. … However, to witness one such sight, one must never come to Dowlais on a Saturday or Sunday, because Sir John Guest not only quotes Nelson in saying ‘that he expects every man to do his duty’, but he also adds ‘that he likes to see every man enjoy his Sunday’.

It is for that reason that – except for the blast furnaces which, naturally, cannot suffer any disruption – at a fairly early hour each Saturday afternoon, all other fires and steam engines cease their groaning, and the workers and drawn carts swarm from the near and far factories towards town.

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 Dowlais House there was, I think, a house, but it was enlarged for Mr George Martin, who lived there some years after. Then came the surgery, and the entrance to the furnace yard beyond. The railroad for bringing the limestone from the quarries crossed the turnpike here, and cottages continued for some distance on the road to Rhymney.

The road to the Ivor Works runs alongside the old limestone road, and just on the corner is the residence of Mr E. P. Martin, his brother, Mr H. W. Martin, occupying the smaller one adjoining.

An extract from the 1851 Ordnance Survey Map showing the two houses in question.

The first was built for Mr John Evans, and occupied for some years by him, but Mr Joseph Lamphier, who occupied the smaller, moved to Cwmavon, and both he and his sister (for he was a bachelor) rest in a grave there. My first visit to Mr John Evans’ house was when he resided at Gwernllwyn Isaf. His brother, Thomas, lived near, and also the rector, Rev Thomas Jenkins. There was also a school there – small, very small in comparison with the present, but there it was.

A short way further, and the Ivor Works are come to, but a road crosses leading up to the houses behind the works. These were built just after the starting of the works in ’33 or ’39, and several of them were the quarters of the military stationed there after the Chartist Riot at Newport. The captain had been abroad, and brought a coloured nursemaid back. This girl was was an object of curiosity to the tip girls, and, they being so much so, took an opportunity of inspecting if that was actually the colour of her skin beneath her clothes.

Instead of turning to the right, if we turned left we should be on the continuation of the road which is mentioned as turning up the side of the Dowlais Inn. Proceeding along this, we come to the stables on one side and the Market House on the other. The church is a short distance further on the same side as the stables.

An extract from an the 1851 Ordnance Survey Map showing the area in question

With the introduction of the railways, no doubt there has been some improvement, but the impression yet existing is that there is more squalor – perhaps less care for appearances. That some feeling of this kind did exist is shown by what was done when a great personage was there.

There was a large order for rails in the market, and the high position of the firm stood them in good stead. To understand my meaning, it is proper to state the town residence of Sir John Guest (8 Spring Gardens) was celebrated; it was here the episode of the balance-sheet took place as described in Roebuck’s “History of the Whigs”. The order was secured, and a Russian prince was coming to see the works. Between the entrance to the works, opposite the Bush and Dowlais House, on the left side of the road going up, were a lot of cottages. They were somewhat above the average at that time, but the gardens in front were not tidy, so Mawdesley, the engineer of the Ivor Works, was called on to design and erect an iron railing which was done.

To be continued at a later date…….

Merthyr Memories: Memories of Dowlais – part 1

by “Sarnws”

If only I could sleep just for one night, in winter, in the front bedroom of the house which now stands where my grandfather’s did, in Church Row in Dowlais, nearly on the corner of Ivor Street, would I in that early morning reverie, half awake and half asleep, hear the frost hardened paving stones ringing with the footsteps of hundreds and hundreds of men making their way to the Ivor Works and the trains taking them over Dowlais Top to the mines and coke ovens beyond?

Are too, the ghosts of women scurrying from the Tip Station along Station Road and Church Row, past the Bonevitch’s shop, to Dowlais Market, with a basket of merchandise in the crook of each elbow to be seen?

Dowlais Market in the 1960’s. Photo courtesy of http://www.alangeorge.co.uk/index.htm

In those days when times were hard, “Daddy Thorn”, as he was known to the local children would come out of retirement as a sugar puller, and make a walking stick of “rock” for a birthday present. This fuelled our activities as roller skating was a popular pastime, and Church Row was surfaced and as smooth as silk. I can now admit to stealing grease from the axle boxes of the goods wagons parked opposite the Stables by the market for my roller skate wheels, as the statute of limitations applies, hopefully.

You could buy spare roller skate wheels from Atkins the ironmonger down the hill from the Co-op, and I often went there to buy “carbide” for my grandfather’s flame lamp.

Dowlais Library was, still is I think, just by the site of the Co-op, and even though I did not appreciate it at the time, was told later that the librarian was so addicted to snuff that every book was so scented.

Atkins Shop and Dowlais Library. Photo courtesy of http://www.alangeorge.co.uk/index.htm

I would go to the Co-op to fetch pipe tobacco for my grandfather, which came in a foil sealed tin. I still remember the aroma as the foil was peeled back. One of the staff on the provision counter was a Mr. Sheen, always in immaculate whites. To see him boning out a side of bacon was a demonstration of skill. In those days bacon was not laid out ready, but cut on demand. If it ran out you would patiently wait and look on as the Provisions hand fetched and boned another side.

The Co-op in Dowlais. Photo courtesy of http://www.alangeorge.co.uk/index.htm

If the “American Cheese” came to an end the provision hand would appear embracing a barrel shaped cheese weighing fifty-six pounds, and cut it up with the wire cheese cutter. Everyone waited, with no complaints.

At the end of Mary Ann Street there stood a bakery which in summer would be open to the world, where real bread was baked.

In Dowlais market the stall always doing a roaring trade was the faggots and peas stall. Traditionally most people would add a sprinkling of vinegar, probably to cut the richness of the faggots.

One regular vendor was the man selling corn ointment, who, to demonstrate the effectiveness of his treatment would stamp his highly polished black boots on the flagstones.

I was told of one old lady, a self appointed arbiter of the quality of poultry sold in the market, who never bought a bird, but would go from stall to stall prodding the breasts of the chicken on show with a hatpin. She would then pronounce on the quality of the merchandise.

An older colleague could remember the matriarch of a rather rough and ready family who on pay day would take the husband’s pay, go down to the market, and buy and don a new apron. She would then gather up the hem to form a shopping bag, and do the weekly shop . When the family had consumed her purchases, they went hungry ‘till the next pay day.

If the term “Disposable Income” had been common parlance then it would have had no relevance for the majority who survived from pay day to pay day.

Dowlais in the 1930’s. Photo courtesy of http://www.alangeorge.co.uk/index.htm

To be continued…….