William Crawshay – The Melting Pot

Death of Penry Williams

135 years ago today, Penry Williams, the famous Merthyr-born artist died in Rome. The article transcribed below appeared in the Cardiff Times on 8 August 1885.

DEATH OF PENRY WILLIAMS, THE MERTHYR ARTIST.

LETTER FROM MR C. H. JAMES, M.P.

We have received an intimation that Mr Penry Williams, the artist, died at Rome on Monday morning last, in his 86th year. Mr C. H. James, M.P., writing to, us from Brynley, Merthyr, thus speaks of the deceased painter:- “He was Merthyr born, and attained considerable renown in his profession, several of his works having got into our National Galleries, and into many of the houses of lovers of art in England.”

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH

A recent “History of Merthyr” states that Penry Williams was the son of William Williams, a house painter; and after his childhood had passed, with its indications showing the bent and genius of the lad, he began to assist his father, until his remarkable skill in drawing and painting attracted the notice of Mr W. Crawshay, who eventually acted the kind patron, and sent him freighted with letters of introduction to influential people in London. Amongst others he was introduced to Fuseli, then keeper of the Royal Academy – one of those kind-hearted and eccentric men who are apt to be misjudged until thoroughly understood. Penry showed him several sketches he had taken amongst the Welsh mountains, to the great delight of Fuseli, who insisted on purchasing them, and from that time became his staunch friend, and gave him the entrée into the academy until he had won his right to enter there by an exhibition of his artistic powers. This he did in a short time, and steadily worked his way upward to renown.

Years passed in the tedious and often painful struggle for a secure position in the world of art. Every now and then he would visit Merthyr, and the seats of gentlemen who had shown an interest in his welfare, and from them always received hearty welcome and good commissions. For Sir John Guest he painted some charming pictures that were the special favourites when exhibited at the British Institution in Pall Mall: and others of our leading iron-masters were only too proud to possess some of his gifted productions. From that era we trace his career, and see him in the most delightful scenes of England, studying the ever-changing beauties of nature with an eye that never tired and a love that never faltered. Amidst the lonely mountains of his own home, in the ravines of the North, among the bosky shades of Tintern, and then again on the Continent amidst all that nature has perfected in its witchery of beauty, and man has made classic and immortal, there was he to be found perfecting his artistic powers until they ripened in fair proportions, and he became known and famous.

Sir Thomas Lawrence, Gibson, the sculptor, Sir Charles Eastlake, and many others of the gifted band were proud to call him friend, and began a friendship that ended only when, one after another, these peerless men passed away. The story of his efforts and of his triumphs is a long but a triumphant one, for the lad who painted Merthyr signs, and knew many of life’s hardships in his youth, eventually reached the highest eminence, was singled out and patronised by royalty and, far more than this, besides distinction and approval from royal hands, became one of those world-honoured artists of whom Britain is justly proud.

A brother of Penry, deaf and dumb, exhibited singular ability in youth as an artist, but he died ere a prominent position had been won.

Merthyr’s Bridges: The Iron Bridge

In our series looking at the bridges of Merthyr, we come to Merthyr’s most iconic bridge, and indeed one of Merthyr’s most iconic lost structures – the Old Iron Bridge.

Photo courtesy of the Alan George Archive

The Old Iron Bridge, or the Merthyr Bridge as it was originally called was commissioned by William Crawshay to replace a stone bridge that had been washed away by a flood. This act was not entirely altruistic on the part of Crawshay, as the only other bridge across the River Taff in town was Jackson’s Bridge, which had been built in 1793 by the Dowlais Iron Company.

Watkin George, the principal engineer at the Cyfarthfa Works was tasked with designing the new bridge, and he conceived a structure fabricated with cast iron sections. To span the River Taff, George had to design a bridge that would span between 65 to 70 feet from bank to bank, so single cast iron beams would be impractical, as they were limited to 20-25 feet in length due to the possibility of the iron failing due to the continuous traffic that would use the bridge.

He decided, therefore to build a structure comprising three separate sections between 22 and 24 feet long, the thickness of the iron being one and a quarter inches, and he constructed the bridge as a cantilever, with the two end sections mounted on buttresses built on the banks of the river with a convex central section fixed between them.

Work started on the bridge in the middle of 1799, and was completed by April the following year. The new bridge had an overall length of 64 feet, and was five feet wide.

The bridge was in constant use as the only bridge in the centre of Merthyr until a new bridge – the Ynysgau Bridge, also called the New Iron Bridge, was built next to it in 1880.

Ynysgau Bridge with the Old Iron Bridge behind it. Photo courtesy of http://www.alangeorge.co.uk/index.htm

The amount of traffic using the bridge can be illustrated in the table below (originally from Merthyr Historian Vol 2, used with the kind permission of The Merthyr Historical Society). Following construction of the new bridge, The Old Iron Bridge was used primarily as a footbridge.

Courtesy of the Merthyr Tydfil Historical Society

In 1963, the bridge was dismantled as part of the refurbishment and ‘improvement’ of Merthyr. The remains of the bridge – indeed the vast majority of it, now lie gathering dust in a warehouse in Merthyr, and all attempts by local historical groups to have the bridge re-erected somewhere in the town (it can’t be re-erected in its former position as the river has been widened), have failed.

One of the most iconic views of old Merthyr – the Old Iron Bridge with Ynysgau Chapel. Photo courtesy of http://www.alangeorge.co.uk/index.htm

To read a fuller account of the history of the Old Iron Bridge, try to get hold of a copy of Volume 2 of the Merthyr Historian where you will find a marvellous article about the bridge by Leo Davies.

Merthyr’s Lost Landmarks: Gwaelodygarth House

Although the ‘shell’ of Gwaelodygarth House remains, it is a far cry from the building it one was.

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

Originally built for the Crawshay family, Gwaelodygarth House dates from the early 19th century and was probably built by Richard Crawshay around 1809, possibly for his son-in-law Benjamin Hall. It was a classic mid Georgian building of generous proportions and balanced design. William Crawshay II lived here before Cyfarthfa Castle was built and then it was sold to a local solicitor, William Meyrick for £2,500.

There is a rumour that Gwaelodygarth House is haunted by the ghost of one of Crawshay’s mistresses who was locked in the attic here to keep her away from his wife.

On the edge of the Cyfarthfa Estate, the house stood in its own grounds of parklands and ornamental gardens, surrounded by a great deal of farmland, The approach was by two driveways, from the east and from the west, one of which was adjacent to a period lodge.

Gwaelodygarth House as seen on a map dated 1875

The house was subsequently home to the Berry family and Henry Seymour Berry lived here from 1912, until he sold it to Guest Keen and Nettlefolds.

It became a domestic training institution and then a school for female evacuees during WWII. In September 1950 Gwaelodygarth House was opened as a Training School for Nurses by Dr Stuart Cresswell, and in June 1979 it became a Mental Health Day Unit.

The hallway at Gwaelodygarth House when it was a nurses’ training school. Photo courtesy of Ann Lewis

The house was in reasonably a good condition until a serious fire in August 2003 destroyed part of the building. Gutted and roofless following the fire upper floor of left-hand range collapsed.

Gwaelodygarth House in 2005. Photo courtesy of http://www.alangeorge.co.uk/index.htm

Gwaelodygarth House has now been converted into townhouses, and several further properties have been built in the grounds of the former mansion.

Merthyr’s Lost Landmarks: Penydarren House

In the very first volume of the Merthyr Historian, published in 1976, the eminent local historian Margaret Stewart Taylor wrote an article entitled ‘The Big Houses of Merthyr Tydfil’. One of the houses she mentions is Penydarren House.

That excerpt is transcribed below, with the kind permission of Dr Fred Holley, President of the Merthyr Tydfil Historical Society.

Penydarren Place, or as it was also called, Penydarren House, was the first luxurious house in Merthyr and I imagine it must have been a status symbol, something that made younger men envious. The Penydarren House we knew, that was pulled down about ten years ago, had been divided into two, Penydarren House and Penydarren Place, but the rooms inside were off fine proportions and showed what a grand mansion it was originally. It was built about 1786 by Samuel Homfray, joint owner of the Penydarren Iron Works with his brother Jeremiah. The two were sons of a Staffordshire ironmaster, Francis Homfray. He started the Penydarren Ironworks and besides three sons, also had two daughters who married Crawshays.

Elizabeth Homfray was the wife of the William Crawshay who built the Castle in 1813, when her brother’s grand house was in its glory. There is a description of Penydarren Place by J. G. Wood in that year:-

“The splendid Mansion of Mr. S. Homfray at Penydarren- situated upon a gentle declivity – is sufficiently removed from the town by the extent of the pleasure grounds, and contains all the conveniences and luxuries requisite for a family of wealth and importance. The gardens, which at first wore the appearance of sterility and barreness are now abundantly productive. The hot-houses, grape-houses, etc., furnish their respective fruits in profusion; and walks laid out with taste and judgement present several points from whence the silver Taff may be seen to great advantage.”

Penydarren House

Samuel Homfray is said to have entertained lavishly until he left Merthyr after becoming High Sheriff of Monmouthshire in 1813. He also owned the Tredegar Ironworks. He went to reside at Bassaleg, and became a Member of Parliament, while Penydarren House was inhabited by William Forman, who had put a great deal of money into the Works and was one of the owners. Forman was an ordnance agent at the Tower of London, then headquarters of a government arsenal, and he was known in the City of London by the nickname of ‘Billy Ready Money’, owing to his wealth and readiness to finance speculative ventures. A smaller house, Gwaelodygarth Fach, later known as the Cottage, and only demolished after the war, was built at the top of what is now The Grove for one of his sons, Edward. This Edward Forman was an enthusiastic swimmer and intended to have a swimming pool in the grounds, but before it was dug, he went, as he often did, to swim in the Blue Pool, Pontsarn, had an accident there, and was drowned in 1822. The name Forman survives in Forman Place, near Garth Villas.

Penydarren House was demolished in 1957.

Detail from an 1875 map showing Penydarren House

Margaret Taylor Stewart’s full article can be read in Volume 1 of the Merthyr Historian.

Rose Mary Crawshay – part 1

by Irene Janes

Most of my life (67 years of it) the surname Crawshay has sent shivers down my spine and an innate hatred of the dynasty of Iron Masters of Cyfarthfa.

A few years ago, I came across a woman with intelligence, foresight, determination and inspiration, Rose Mary Yates, also known to us as, Mrs Robert Crawshay. True she is not a native of Merthyr Tydfil or Wales but her efforts transcend boundaries and time.

As is the case of many wealthy, bored and unemployed women, charity work is often the ‘hobby’ of choice. With Rose Mary, this may have been true in the beginning. However having completed my little bit of research I see a different woman.

It could have been one evening, sitting in her home, with its turrets and three hundred and sixty five windows, she sat in front of yellow leaping flames throwing its heat from the coal dug out from one of her husband’s mines. Her silk dress with layers of frilly petticoats may have rustled as she turned the pages to find one of her favourite poems by Lord Byron. With daylight fading perhaps, her attention wondered beyond the parklands walls to other yellow leaping fires of her husband’s family iron works in Cyfarthfa. Her life to those women and men labourers could not have been more different. Her home fire kept her warm, the works fires killed and maimed. Rooms she had many but in the town families were squashed into windowless, two roomed cellars with damp running down the walls. Children of all and any ages sent out to work, steal or beg, it didn’t matter which as long it was to help with their families’ survival.

If she was, a charity hobbyist this soon changed to philanthropist.

She organised soup kitchens and instructed them to be open three days a week. With the bodies of the needy and poor being fed, Rose Mary turned her attention to their overall well-being. She set up classes to encourage women to make clothes and make the patterns from old newspapers.

Books were given to her husband’s workers. Nevertheless, this was not enough for this particular Mrs Crawshay who knew the importance of education. In total, she opened seven libraries.

The citadel for working class males were the Workmen’s Institutes. Apart from socialising and drinking of beer it was here, the men could access text books and newspapers for knowledge or pleasure. Quite rightly, Rose Mary saw the inequality of it all. To counterbalance this she ensured her libraries opened on a Sunday too so women had the same opportunities.

Still recalled today, Abercanaid, February 1862 forty-nine men and boys were killed either from suffocation or burns in the Gethin Pit explosion. The pit had been sunk by William Crawshay II to provide coal for the Cyfarthfa works. Rose Mary visited every family who had lost some one in the disaster. Indeed, here is a woman who knew her own mind and no Iron master was going to stop her.

Was it Murder at Cyfarthfa Castle?

By William Griffiths
Transcribed by Carl Llewellyn

Cyfarthfa Castle was built according to the plans of William Crawshay in 1825. He was an iron-master of the Cyfarthfa Ironworks; rich, with a strong will, unassuming yet energetic. While waiting for his Castle to be built, he lived with family at Gwaelodygarth House.

His influence and energy had such an effect on the builders that the Castle was completed in 12 months at a cost of £30,000. Situated in the area of a park, of meadows and woods, it was so placed that a full view of the Iron Works could be seen from its windows. The workers could likewise look upon the edifice and after the affluence of their iron-master up on its elevated ground. At night the blast furnaces illuminated the surrounding country-side, particularly the stone walls of Cyfarthfa Castle its windows reflecting the red and yellow glow of light, in an unusual pattern of colour. The Master had installed his castle with many servants, fit for the magnate he was. His gardeners had changed the grounds into a beautiful park. His gamekeepers patrolled it night and day, against poachers and marauders so prevalent in those days. One of the gamekeepers was named John Lloyd and he lived with his wife at Pontsarn, on the borders of the Cyfarthfa Estate. They were always quarrelling and the servants at the Castle said they were not happy together. Their home at Pontsarn was a lonely place in a beautiful spot: almost at the base of the ancient Morlais Castle, adjacent to the historic site of Vaynor Old Church, where monks had once chanted their prayers and buried the dead of past wars.

Then someone remarked: “John Lloyd’s wife had not been seen for a number of weeks. Is she ill? Has she gone away?” The servants of the Castle began asking questions. But John gave them no answers. The questions became persistent, to be told angrily that she had gone away to Llangyfelach Fair. More weeks passed with no sign of Mrs Lloyd. Meanwhile John carried on at his work in the Castle grounds.

The disappearance could not continue without Mr Crawshay getting to know of it. Eventually he sent for John to question him on the subject: for at that time an employer had far greater power over an employee’s personal affairs than exists today. The Master was waiting for him in one of the living rooms of the Castle, as John gave an extra rub on his boots, before being shown in by a servant. As he entered the magnificently furnished room Mr Crawshay was walking away from him towards the large fireplace. John stood waiting for the Master to turn around but did not, he stood with his back to him, addressing him in a firm tone.

“Well Lloyd – what have you to say about your missing wife? Now understand man: I want the truth.” He turned quickly, raising the tone of his voice on the last sentence. John Lloyd, not a good looking man held his head down making incoherent and confused replies. He pulled at his smock with his left hand, not knowing what to do with his hat, which he held in his right. The more questions Mr Crawshay asked the more nervous he became. It was a conflict between master and servant, emotion being displayed by both men for a basic reason. All the power of position was at the command of the rich industrialist, yet dissatisfied with the result, he waved his arms in front of his gamekeeper, telling him he had no alternative – he must inform the police immediately. “Go” he told him, “Return to your work”. The Merthyr Tydfil Police interviewed John Lloyd later, in conjunction with the Breconshire authorities, for it was situated in that county. They searched the house for clues. Apparently nothing important was found relating to the missing lady, so the mystery became a talking point at Cyfarthfa Works, and eventually the whole district.

The Merthyr Police had now officially contacted headquarters in London, requesting that two investigators be sent to the town to work on the case. They began methodically as compared to the local officers, by questioning all who were acquainted with John Lloyd, judging the character of good or bad behaviour. “Was he jealous of his wife?”. They asked “Did he bear her? Did she have any men friends?” They circled the suspect with their queries: then they approached him singly, and together: They searched his house; dug in his garden; went next-door; gossiped to the neighbours, while John was at work. All those actions they took in the nerve war against him. It was said of Lloyd that he was unperturbed by the investigations. Each evening he made his way home on the rocky path through the woods and lanes of the Gurnos farmland to Pontsarn. His two dogs running to and fro, as he walked: the glow of the Cyfarthfa Iron Works, lighting the place in a shadowy twilight. Guilty or not, the man acted naturally, notwithstanding the pressure of suspicion around him.

Many thought him guilty, saying he had an evil looking face, as if the look of a man’s face proved his guilt: whereas it is well known that the most handsome of men can be murderous. The London Police were not concerned about John’s looks. They had to get the facts. They followed him around the estate, talking to him on the subjects of game, or poachers in general. They made him stand near the furnace where he boiled down the bones and meal for the Cyfarthfa hounds. A careful examination was made of the vessels – the furnace itself. They collected samples while many eyes watched them from Castle windows. “Those London police are too late.” it was whispered from one to another: “John Lloyd had done his wife in: boiled her down as food for hounds!” “He was very particular in cleaning the vessels. Sir, after his wife was missing”, a servant volunteered to the police. The investigators followed all the suggestions made to them, and despite a detailed enquiry, had to admit they were baffled. John remained free, as far as he was allowed to be under the investigation, so days passed to months.

They eventually presented their report, which turned out to be of insufficient evidence. So John Lloyd was not charged with the murder of his wife. The police returned to London. It is not known if the suspect remained in the employment of William Crawshay at Cyfarthfa Castle Estate. He lived for about 25 years in the Merthyr area, dying in a Poor-law Institution, diseased and wretched so it is believed, but with no foundation in fact. At the time of Lloyd’s death, a skeleton was found on the borders of the estate, presumed although not established to be the remains of Mrs Lloyd.

John Lloyd was alleged to be the murderer of his wife: the investigation into the case was thorough at the time, when men were hanged for far less crimes than killing their wives. The evidence basically was that Mrs Lloyd was missing or disappeared. No additional facts were produced against Lloyd: therefore according to the enquiry, no charge of a crime was made against him. Let that be his epitaph, and so be it.

The Gethin Pit Explosion – 1862

One hundred and fifty six years ago today, on 19 February 1862, Merthyr was rocked by the news of a horrific explosion at the Gethin Colliery in Abercanaid.

Gethin Colliery comprised of two seperate pits – Lower Pit (Gethin Colliery No 1) and Upper Pit (Gethin Colliery No 2). The Gethin Pit was established in 1849, when it was sunk by William Crawshay II to provide coal for the Cyfarthfa Works.

An 1875 map of Abercanaid showing the location of the Gethin Colliery

As the coal had been worked the gas had drained away naturally. At the time of the explosion the mines were being sunk to a greater depth and giving off greater quantities of gas which demanded greater skill and attention in their management.

At the time of the disaster, the mine was being managed by John Moody and various others including his son (Thomas Moody). Thomas Thomas, the fireman who ran the safety checks of the mine reported: “All is right, but there is a little gas in John Jones’ heading…….No.20 about 10 yards back from the face there had been a bit of a fall above the timbers and gas was lodged there.”

Thomas Thomas was actually at work when the explosion occurred. He had just examined the Nos. 16 to 19 cross headings, found everything all right and was on his way for his dinner. He reached the No. 14 heading when he was knocked down from behind and burnt by the blast. It was about 2 p.m.

Mr G.H. Laverick, viewer at the Plymouth Works heard the explosion at 2 p.m. He went to the pit where he met Mr Bedlington Kirkhouse, mineral agent of the Cyfarthfa Colliery, and went down the pit. He examined the doors at the No. 13 and 14 headings and a great many bodies had been brought there. He reported:

“I then proceeded to the No.18 when I got up about 50 yards on the road I picked up a burnt handkerchief. At the bottom of the No.19 heading there was a horse blown across the level. Attached to the chain was a train of coal the train was off the road, about eight or nine feet from the north side level. On the west side of the heading saw a portion of what seemed to have been a door did not observe anything of the other doors there had been a fall of earth between the level and the windroad could not proceed any further because of the chokedamp. I believe that the door at the bottom of No.19 must have been kept open at the time, otherwise it would have been shattered to pieces. The haulier was jammed between the rib and the trams. They had to left the tram to remove his body. The horse was blown across with it’s head inclined to the west, indicating that the blast had come down the heading from the north. Further up we came across four men who appeared to have had their dinners, for the stoppers being out of their bottles. They appeared to be suffocated.”

In all, 47 men and boys were killed in the explosion.

The enquiry into the explosion, which took nine days, found that the presence of poor ventilation, fire-damp (an accumulation of gases, mostly methane, that occurs in coal mines) and the irresponsible use of naked flames for lighting were the root causes of the explosion.

John Moody, after testifying, was acquitted of two charges, however he was found guilty of manslaughter by the jury. Later, a grand jury heard the evidence and produced the verdict of “No true bill”.

Just three years later, on 20 December 1865, another explosion occurred at the Gethin Colliery, this time at No 2 Pit, killing 36 men and boys. The cause of the explosion was found to be exactly the same as the first, yet once again John Moody was acquitted of manslaughter at the subsequent trial.

Coal production ceased at the Gethin Colliery in the 1920’s and it was used as a pumping station until its closure in 1947.

Merthyr Memories: Cyfarthfa School part 1

by Mary Owen

The classroom where I taught in Cyfarthfa High School (Castle site) was at the back, looking on to an area, darkly shaded by old trees. They had been planted circa 1824 when the mock-Gothic edifice, Cyfarthfa Castle, was built by William Crawshay, the ironmaster of the Cyfarthfa works. Less than a century later the family and iron-making disappeared from Merthyr Tydfil and their magnificent, unwanted home became a grammar school.

In the 1970s, when I was appointed to teach French at Cyfarthfa, by then a comprehensive school, one of those old trees became a particular favourite of mine and I admired it often as I glanced, or even took some time to gaze, at the shady woodland scene, just outside the window of Room 15: it was a cedar of Lebanon, the tree that indicates that the landowner, who paid for it was seriously wealthy. In quiet moments in that room I would muse on the Mediterranean land, from which the tree had sprung and of the time when the millionaire owner had bought it and many other specimens of exotic trees and plants. These had been transported, at great expense, to Merthyr Tydfil, his ugly, industrial town, for the beautification of his estate. Thanks to those past extravagances we had the most wonderful – looking school, a grey stone turreted castle, with lawns and a lake in front of it and well- established trees and gardens all around.

My north-facing room was dark and the ceiling strip – lights were often switched on to lighten and brighten it. In the well-used fashion of making the classroom a pleasant place in which the pupils can learn and where the teacher can impart knowledge, I made sure that the walls of the dingy room were colourfully decorated with scenes relating to France: pictures of famous buildings and work that the pupils had spent time creating in class or at home. As time passed the walls of the room were pinned with a collage of memorabilia, which gave great delight to me and, I hope, to the children, entrusted to me. Some of my own postcards were there – of the Eiffel Tower, the Arc de Triomphe and the Mona Lisa; a map of France was in the place of honour in the centre of the back wall and it was mounted by two crossed ‘Tricolore’ flags. These had been drawn, painted and cut out by some enthusiastic pupils in break times. They had tried not to forget that Mrs Owen had said “ the colours of the French flag are blue, white and red (bleu, blanc, rouge), in that order from the flagpole, not red, white and blue. You must get it right.” There were wine bottle – labels, cheese – box labels, Orangina advertisements, photographs of the annual 24- hour, autumn trip to Boulogne, with many pupils and several teachers and where, if my allotted group of eight pupils could order their drinks in good French at the first café stop up in the old quarter of the town, I paid the bill; there was Richard Probert’s print of the Sacré-Coeur, bought especially for our classroom, on his and his brother Michael’s family trip to Paris. They would not forget it in a hurry because their Aunty Norma’s handbag, with her money and passport in it, was stolen in that beautiful white basilica, overlooking the city.

Another aunty had been snapped colourfully for posterity by her eager nephew, Owain Rowlands, as she was eating her way through a huge dish of ‘moules’. She was in the restaurant of the Hôtel de la Plage in the harbour town of Dieppe. This town featured in the Longman’s textbook, which was the basis of French language learning in Mid-Glamorgan schools. Aunty Jean was not to know then that she would be up there on the wall in our classroom, eating those mussels for many years to come. She was a French teacher and she had entered into the spirit of the family trip with gusto. The photos were rushed to school at the end of the holiday and there in front of us were the hotel, the town hall, the church, the swimming pool, the harbour in Dieppe and Jean eating those mussels – more visual aids for learning the ten French words of vocabulary that were expected to be known at the end of each chapter. La plage, le port, l’hôtel, l’hôtel de ville, i.e. the town-hall, surmounted with two crossed French flags etc… And so it went on until the end of the book and there were always creative hands, ready to change the scene a bit and to add an item about France and the French language to our décor. There was a notice, written carefully in good, correct French, announcing to all that Mrs Owen’s favourite character in Coronation Street was Mike Baldwin and her favourite television programme was Only Fools and Horses.

One chapter was about clothes. The required new points of grammar were introduced and the ten words for articles of clothing were there, to be learned through looking, listening, saying, repeating, writing, drawing and even singing. And of course there were volunteers for drawings of shirts, trousers, blouses, skirts, dresses, shoes, socks, macs and hats. Teaching French, especially in the first years to children of eleven and twelve, some at the start of even becoming clever linguists is a delight. One amongst several of these, was Sharon Rogers, who found it so easy to master the tricky French ‘r’ sound as soon as she heard it. It usually took a great deal of practice.

To be continued……….

Merthyr’s Chapels: Bethesda Chapel

Over the years, Merthyr has been home to over 120 chapels, and they became one of the mainstays of life in the town. Every month I would like to post a history of a different chapel. Let’s start with one of the most famous of Merthyr’s chapels – Bethesda Welsh Independent Chapel.

In 1807, the minister at Zoar Chapel, Rev Daniel Lewis, embarked on a visit to London and other large towns to solicit gifts of money from sympathetic benefactors to help clear the debts at Zoar Chapel.

Even though this was the custom at the time, some members of the congregation took exception to the trip and to the expenses incurred by the minister, and instigated an investigation into the affair by senior ministers from surrounding areas. When the investigation exonerated Rev Lewis, his accusers, unhappy with the outcome, left to start their own church.

The congregation originally met in an upstairs room of a smithy near the spot where Salem Chapel now stands in Newcastle Street, and called it Philadelphia. After two years larger premises were necessary and the congregation moved to another blacksmith’s forge between Zoar Chapel and the Morlais Brook and called it Beth-haran.

It was while they were at Beth-haran that the congregation extended an invitation to Rev Methusalem Jones to come and preach at their small meeting. He eventually became their minister and the congregation decided to build their own chapel. They obtained a piece of land on a lease from Mr W Morgan, Grawen, for £5 per annum rent. They built the chapel at the start of 1811, and Rev Jones licensed it at Llandaff court on 23 July 1811.

Under the guidance of Methusalem Jones the congregation had grown from 90 to almost 300, thus a larger chapel was needed, and a new chapel was built in 1829 at a cost of £1,002. Whilst under Rev Methusalem Jones’ ministry, Bethesda became mother church to many other chapels including:- Bethania, Dowlais; Saron, Troedyrhiw; Ebenezer, Cefn Coed; Salem, Heolgerrig. Rev Methusalem Jones continued to minister to the congregation at Bethesda until his death on 15 January 1839 at the age of 71.

Following Rev Jones death, Rev Daniel Jones was invited to become Bethesda’s minister in 1840. At the time that Daniel Jones became minister, there was an influx of people coming to Merthyr from Pembrokeshire and Cardiganshire seeking work in the various iron works; as Daniel Jones was known in those counties, a large number of the people coming to Merthyr started going to Bethesda Chapel thus greatly increasing the congregation.

Two years after becoming the minister however, Rev Jones had to have his right arm amputated, but because of the support and kindness he received from the congregation, he made a swift recovery and continued to preach at Bethesda until he left in 1855 to join the Anglican church.

It was at this time that the world famous composer Dr Joseph Parry was a member of Bethesda Chapel. He attended the chapel with his family until he emigrated to America in 1854. Indeed, Dr Parry’s mother, Elizabeth, had been working for Rev Methusalem Jones as a maid in her youth, and moved with him to Merthyr when he became the minister at Bethesda.

Following Daniel Jones departure, Bethesda was without a minister for three years, but the cause continued to flourish, and it was at this time that a number of members of Bethesda started a new cause at Gellideg Chapel.

By the late 1870’s it was decided to build a larger and more comfortable chapel, and on 24 June 1880 the foundation stone was laid by Mrs W T Crawshay, wife of William Crawshay the owner of Cyfarthfa Ironworks. The architect was Mr John Williams of Merthyr and the builder was Mr John Francis Davies of Dowlais. The chapel was completed in 1881 at a cost of £1,200.

Following its closure due to a diminishing congregation in 1976, Bethesda Chapel was used as an arts centre for several years. The building then began to fall into dereliction until it was finally decided to demolish the building in 1995.

The site of Bethesda Chapel has now been landscaped and a mosaic by Oliver Budd based on a painting by the renowned local artist and historian Mr Dewi Bowen has been erected as a memorial to the chapel.

Merthyr Poverty

When looking at Merthyr’s history, it is sometimes easy to forget the crippling poverty that afflicted a lot of people in the town. Below is an article that appeared in the Merthyr Telegraph 139 years ago today about a group of local dignitaries who tried to alleviate the situation….

28-12-1877 — Merthyr Telegraph – 28 December 1877