From the Western Mail 140 years ago today….
A Disgruntled Traveller
Tag: Taff Vale Railway
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.
We have now entered Dowlais – yes, to some extent, truly called dismal and dirty. No doubt it has redeeming traits, but from personal recollections I do not consider it had even the amenities that existed in Merthyr. It was, or seemed to be, more brusque, more aggrandising, but if Merthyr was truly a village in the early thirties, Dowlais was somewhat less. “Nothing extenuate, nor set down aught in malice” shall be my guide.
Up the brook a short way there was a brewery, erected by a Mr Powell of Abergavenny, whose father was a church dignitary there. The hill before us is steep, and the first road is one that doubles back in front of the Dowlais Inn, and then turns up to the right to the Dowlais Church, stables and on to the Ivor Works. This was kept by a James Henry, who went thence to keep another public house in Rhymney.
Keeping the coach road, another public house on the other side was the Vulcan. There were steps alongside down to the tramroad, and the lowest entrance gates into the works stood just there. Some short distance further there was another public house, whose name has slipped. It was, however, some four steps (nearly three feet) lower than the road. Mr David Williams and his aunt, Miss Teague, kept it awhile after leaving the Angel in Merthyr, but it was taken as the station of the railway from the Taff Vale, and used as such at the time.
Following this on the same side was a row of workmen’s cottages having their back to, but the ground floor much lower than the road. About six of what were then the best shops in the place being passed, the main entrance into the works and office was come to.
The shop nearest the entrance gates was, or had been, the old Company shop. It had, however, ceased to be carried on upon the truck system as far as can be recalled. A Mr Parnell was the manager, but there is some hazy idea of Mr Williams, the father of Mr Joshua Williams, of Aberdylais (sic), being connected with it. Mr Jenkins, the druggist, had a branch shop in the row; also a Mr D Lewis kept another druggist’s shop, and Mr Lewis, draper, of the London Warehouse, also had a branch. Immediately opposite to the entrance gates was the Bush Hotel, kept by Mr Richard Henry who had been a contractor in the works some years before.
At the passing of the Reform Bill in 1832, Merthyr was made a borough, and privileged to send one member to Parliament. Sir John (then Mrs) Guest was returned, but he had previously been member for Honiton, and upon one occasion ordered a large number of pairs of boots and shoes there. They were dispatched to Dowlais to the company’s shop there, but Mr Parnell decline having anything to do with them. “He had not ordered them”, and knew nothing whatever about them.
Richard Henry was sent for to the office, he being then a contractor and having a great number of persons under him. “Dick I want you to sell a lot of boots and shoes for me” was said by Mr Guest. “Well, but master, I don’t want them, and how am I to pay for them?” was replied. “Oh that shall not trouble: you can pay when you sell the last pair”, was the rejoinder, and ‘Dick’ took them all but never sold the last pair. It is not possible to vouch for the strict accuracy of it, but I can vouch for having the narrative from Mr Richard Henry’s own lips.
To be continued….
Merthyr Tydfil to Aber Cynon Tramroad – part 2
by Gwilym and John Griffiths
In October 1858, Rees Jones was interviewed by the Mining Journal. He assisted Richard Trevithick in the making of his locomotive. It worked very well but frequently its weight broke the tram-plates. On the third (see below) journey it broke a great many of the tram-plates. It was brought back to Pen y Darren by horses. The steam-engine was never used as a locomotive after this.
‘The Pen y Darren Locomotive’ added, without stating the source, that: Over the next few weeks the locomotive made numerous journeys over the tramroad and was later used as a stationary engine for pumping water, winding coal and driving a forging hammer.
The newspaper, Cambrian, reported the trial briefly: ‘Yesterday’, the long-awaited trial of Mr Trevithick’s newly-invented steam engine, for which he obtained His Majesty’s letters patent, to draw and work carriages of all descriptions on various kinds of roads, as well as for a number of other purposes to which its power may be usefully employed, took place near this town, and was found to perform to admiration all that was expected from its warmest advocates.
In the present instance, the novel application of steam by means of this truly valuable machine was made use of to convey along the tramroad ten tons, long weight, of bar iron from Pen y Darren Works to the place where it joins the Glamorgan Canal, upwards of nine miles distant; and it is necessary to observe that the weight of the load was soon increased from ten to fifteen tons by about seventy persons riding on the trams, who, drawn thither, as well as many others, by invincible curiosity, were eager to ride at the expense of the first display of the patentee’s abilities in this country.
To those who are not acquainted with the exact principle of this new engine, it may not be improper to observe that it differs from all others yet brought before the public, by disclaiming the use of condensed water, and discharges it into the open air, or applies it to the heating of fluids, as convenience may require. The expense of making engines on this principle does not exceed one half of many on the most approved plan made use of before this appeared. It takes much less coal to work it, and it is only necessary to supply a small quantity of water for the purpose of creating steam, which is the most essential matter. It performed the journey without feeding or using any water, and will travel with ease at the rate of five miles an hour. It is not doubted but that the number of horses in the kingdom will be very considerably reduced, and the machine, in the hands of the present proprietors, will be made use of in a hundred instances never yet though of for an instant’.
The Parliamentary Gazetteer of England and Wales, circa 1840, added extra bits of information: The first locomotive, though with toothed wheels, is said to have been started on the old Merthyr-Tydvil railroad in 1804, having been patented by Messrs Vivian and Co, in 1802; it was then stated to have drawn ten tons of bar iron at the rate of five miles an hour; but it did not come into anything like general use for the carriage of goods till ten years afterwards. The present (1840) noble species of locomotives, however, and railways, are of still more recent origin. There was clearly some conflict over the patent?
It seems likely that the authors must have made a mistake over ‘toothed wheels’: perhaps they were thinking of the cog-wheels on the engine itself?
We find it hard to believe that there was any need or purpose to construct the smaller tunnel near Plymouth Works in 1802, though this is the date so stated by Leo Davies in ‘Bridges of Merthyr Tydfil’, page 155, and the tunnel certainly existed by the time of John Woods’ 1836 Street Map of Merthyr Tudful. Richard Trevithick did not mention it in his letter describing the journey (but see below) yet, at only 8ft 4in high, it must have proved a problem for his steam locomotive with a stack of almost similar height? The second tunnel was apparently built around 1860 or 1862, per Leo Davies. Why was it needed? Why was it so much higher at 13ft 0in? The lower tunnel would have limited the height of any transport through it, a quarter of a century after the arrival of the Taff Vale Railway.
A Trystan Edwards, in ‘Merthyr, Rhondda and The Valleys’, page 163, apparently knew (from frustratingly unnamed sources but see above quote) that Richard Trevithick was assisted in the construction of the engine by Rees Jones of Dowlais and that the engine-driver’s name was Watkin Richards. He wrote that a collision with a bridge brought down both bridge and stack (though Trevithick himself made no reference to this accident in his account). Trystan Edwards recorded that the engine failed to return, a fact totally incorrect according to Trevithick’s own account written at the time.
According to Joseph Gross, ‘The Merthyr Tramroad’, in Merthyr Historian, volume 1, Anthony Bacon refused to make the award of the bet because Richard Trevithick had moved some sleepers in the tunnel near Plymouth Works to the middle to allow the funnel to pass. This was supposed to have changed the existing track, violating one of the conditions of the wager. The return journey of the locomotive was not completed because it was said the gradient was too steep. This, too, contradicts other sources.
The Glamorganshire Canal – and the Rise of Rail
By Laura Bray
We all know the story – a wager between Samuel Homfray of the Penydarren Ironworks, and Richard Crawshay of Cyfarthfa that Trevithick’s steam locomotive could haul ten tens of iron from Penydarren to Abercynon, and we all know that Homfray won his bet, and Merthyr became known across the world as the home of the first railway.
But have you ever wondered why the bet was made? Perhaps it just a whim between two very rich two men with money to burn. After all the bet was sizeable 500 guineas or something like £40,000 in today’s money. Perhaps it was because Homfray, who had used Trevithick’s engines to drive a hammer in the ironworks, was a pioneer. Or was it because of the Glamorganshire Canal…..?
By the late 18th century, Merthyr was probably the most important manufacturing town in Britain, with a population 8 times larger than that of Cardiff, which was the nearest port. However, the river wharfs in Cardiff were rapidly reaching capacity and could not keep up with the maritime demands made by Merthyr’s four ironworks. In addition, it was prohibitively expensive to get the goods from Merthyr to Cardiff, costing the ironmasters something like £14,000 p.a. – a sum equivalent to around £1m today.
It was within this context that Richard Crawshay took the lead in lobbying for a Parliamentary Bill in order to get the powers to build a canal from Merthyr to Cardiff, and in 1790 the Glamorganshire Canal Act was passed. The Act provided that a company be formed of The Company of Proprietors of the Glamorganshire Canal Navigation with power to purchase land for making the canal and to carry out the necessary works. The Act also laid down the route that was to be followed, authorised the raising of £90,000 to meet the cost of completing the canal, and laid down the maximum charges for carrying various classes of goods, up to 5d. per ton per mile for carrying stone, iron, timber, etc. and up to 2d. per ton per mile for carrying iron stone, iron ore, coal, lime-stone, etc. It also stated that the distribution of Company profits was not to exceed £8% per annum upon the capital sum actually laid out in making the canal.
The Canal Company appointed a Committee from amongst its shareholders to be responsible for the management of the Company’s affairs, and the first Committee meeting was held on 19 July 1790 at the Cardiff Arms Inn, when it was decided to enter into a contract with Thomas Dadford senior, Thomas Dadford junior and Thomas Sheasby to construct the canal at a cost of £48,228, exclusive of the cost of land. This is about 3 times the annual cost of sending goods to Cardiff, so it was estimated that all costs would be recouped in as little as three years.
Construction work started in August 1790 and it was a massive undertaking – over its length of 25 miles, the land drops by 543 feet, so it was necessary to build 51 locks, some double, and one in Nantgarw, a triple lock; some locks were 10 feet high and the one in Aberfan topped 14’6″. In addition. there was the necessity for an aqueduct to be built at Abercynon, a tunnel under Queen St in Cardiff, several feeders to be created and, as the canal came closer to Merthyr, it had to be cut through sheer mountain rock. By 1794, however, there was a functioning and effective new transport link between Merthyr and Cardiff at a final cost of £103,600.
But even before the canal was completed it had become clear that it needed to be extended beyond Cardiff so as to give access directly to the sea. Another £20,000 was raised by subscription and a deal was struck with the Marquis of Bute, who owned the land, to build a sea lock and canal basin, which enabled ships of 200 tons to dock. The Sea Lock itself was 103 feet long with gates 27 feet wide.
The canal made transport to Cardiff very cheap, but generated very high revenues. It was designed to take canal boats of up to 25 tons, each drawn by a horse, with a man and a boy. By 1836 there were about 200 boats on the canal, each doing 3 round trips every fortnight. That’s a lot of tonnage at an average of 3d a ton.
But all was not well in the Committee. From the start, it was dominated by Richard Crawshay, who tended to regard the canal as his and his attempts to squeeze the profits of the other ironmasters was bitterly resented. As early as 1794 Richard Hill Of the Plymouth Works complained that the Canal Company was using water from the river that was legally his. Guest, in Dowlais, was also vocal about how we could access the canal from his works. A branch canal seemed impractical so a tramroad was proposed to which the canal company contributed £1000. This was competed in 1791 – before the canal. The Crawshays built a second tramroad between the Gurnos Quarry and their works in Cyfarthfa and a third was built in 1799 by the Hills, linking the Morlais Quarry with the Dowlais to Merthyr Tramroad at Penydarren.
But by 1798, tensions in the committee were so great that they blew. As a consequence, the other ironmasters were dropped for the canal committee, leaving only Crawshay, and it was another 26 years before they rejoined. But discussions took place between them about how to break the Crawshay stranglehold of the canal, and the answer seemed to be the construction of a tramroad from Merthyr, to meet the canal at Abercynon. This tramroad, which opened in 1802 and was built without an Act of Parliament, linking the two existing tramroads from Dowlais to Merthyr and from Morlais to Penydarren. From the point of view of Guest, Homfray and Hill, although the trams using it were horse drawn, this new tramroad avoided the delays caused by the locks between Merthyr and Abercynon.
This is the background to the bet that was made between Homfray and Crawshay. Could the new stream locomotive pull a load of iron? Could it supersede canal power?
We all know that it did, but broke the rails on the way down, so could not come back. But progress had been made. The Taff Vale Railway Company opened as far as Abercynon only 40 years later, and to Merthyr a year later and the canal’s decline was inexorable and it had all but ceased by 1900.
Looking back, it is reasonable to ask, if there had been no canal, where would the home of the steam locomotive be? Not Merthyr, that’s for sure.
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.
But there is another matter that contributed to that end both for them and other ironmasters too. With the dawn of the railways the public were diffident of investing, and the issue of bonds was a neccessity for the ready obtaining of rails. These were generally issued at discount, say as an example, a bond for £100 for ten tons of rails at £8 per ton. The cost of the rails would be, perhaps. £6, so that the iron master, if in a position to do so, would receive say £100 for £60 worth of his product. Bankers would advance upon the deposit of such bonds, and, in consequence, enough money would be obtained to carry on the same cycle of operations.
It must not be thought that the railway company, on the one hand, or the ironmaster on the other, were dealing in hundreds only. One deal may be for ten thousand tons of rails, and if not able to make and deliver the full amount within the specified time, he contracted with other and, perhaps, smaller makers for some portion. The ironmaster, taking the original contract, would thus become an iron merchant, and pay cash or some other mode of payment as may be arranged. Wages were paid in cash, and it may be that a part was arranged by acceptance.
In order to show the difficulty in obtaining money for the making of railroads, let me remind you readers that the £100 Taff Vale share was for sale at £30 at one time, and it was only some five or six persons who made the Aberdare branch from Navigation to Aberdare – the public declined to take shares, Mr C H James told me – but those who ventured have one of the best railway investments, for it was leased to the Taff Vale Railway Company at an increasing rate, 10 percent being obtained in three years, and so to continue in perpetuity.
To be continued at a later date.
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.
Some little little distance below the bridge of the Taff Vale branch to Dowlais is come by – the objection to obtaining the parliamentary powers to make which has already been alluded to, but one thing was done that has not been stated. The minerals under Scyhorfawr (sic.) land were in the hands of the Plymouth Company (or rather Mr A. Hill, for he had become sole proprietor), and to prove they had not been all worked a pit was sunk as near as could be to the centre line of the intended railway. Persons called it “spite pit”. However, it was done for a purpose, and it answered it.
The terms of the settlement have been mentioned, but the various fencings cannot be. I can recall one rather angry meeting in which Mr E. J. Hutchings tried to make things smooth, with some success. This was the last fight between Sir J. John Guest and Mr Anthony Hill. They had had many encounters before, and found each other sturdy opponents, and Anthony Hill, on being told of Sir John’s death, with tears in his eyes, said: “Ah what fights we have had”.
Sir John was a Whig, Mr Hill a Tory. They differed, therefore, in political matters, but it was in other matters they combated most; for instance, Sir John was chairman of the Taff Vale Railway Company, and wanted the line to be made in a straight line from the Troedyrhiw Station, keeping the old church tower as a guide. This would have materially affected Plymouth, and as anyone can now see, Mr Hill compelled its making with the minimum of injury either by way of severance or otherwise to his works.
Sir John is buried in Dowlais; Mr Hill in a lonely grave in Pontyrhun. Peace to their manes. I can bear testimony to the goodness of both. It may not be remembered very clearly, but Troedyrhiw Farm was then the freehold of the Dowlais Company, and upon the parting of Guest and Lewis it became solely Mr Lewis’s, and by the irony of fate the minerals are worked by pits sunk by Mr Hill, thus forming a part of what is yet known as Hill’s Plymouth Collieries, although the one who gives the name has passed away above 40 years.
By way of antithesis to differences, let me cite a case of another description. The ownership of some land was determined by by the course of the river, and the different properties were leased to ironmasters. Time rolled on, the surface was of little account, so that the river spread out and shifted the course of it’s ordinary current. When the working of the minerals was approaching, the line of the boundary necessarily arose. Instead of litigation or any unpleasantness, those that were interested arranged together in a friendly way, and showed a modern instance of what Pope said of the man Ross:
Is there a variance? Enter but his door.
Baulk’d are the courts, and contest is no more.
To be continued at a later date.
The Railways of Romance – part2
The engines of the “Rhymney” Railway do not stand out clearly in my memory. I fear that, in my enthusiasm for the “Taff”, I never did justice to a line that dared to compete by taking folk to Cardiff. It had its advocates, however, and I recall that it was commended for an honest turn of speed. The “London North Western” also suffered the same injustice. In those days of restricted geographical knowledge we were unable to put the credit of the “London North Western” its importance on the way from London to Lancashire. As I remember it then, in its black coat and sleek contours, the “London North Western” engine carried an air of restraint and culture, suggesting, perhaps, an elegant curate. It came among us kindly, but it was never really of us.
But there was one engine that we classed apart from all others. It was the dear old “Brecon and Merthyr” in its faded coat of brown. What degree of precision that line has now acquired I do not know. Since those old days it may have grown meticulous, and, like the “Cambrian”, begun to sub-divide its breathless minutes. But in the period of which I speak nobody ever asked the “Brecon and Merthyr” to run to time. It was not even expected. People were, in the main, quite satisfied if it came in on the proper day. It had, no doubt, good reason for its tardiness; and when it arrived at last the general relief was so charged with fine emotion that pity and forgiveness floated easily to the top.
Looking back I am driven to believe that, for us small boys, the “Brecon and Merthyr” fulfilled a literary purpose quite outside the intentions of its directors. In that stage of literary taste we were, most of us, given to the assiduous study of Deadwood Dick and the whole fraternity of Canyon, Gulch and Bowie Knife. All our young romanticism, which otherwise might have hung loose in the air, centred about the “Brecon and Merthyr”. It was our stage-coach, moving through the terrors of the wild and woolly West. The other railways went through the civilized and ordered belts of Glamorgan; but the “Brecon and Merthyr” wound its way through lonely places in the frowning hills. When, long after the appointed time of arrival, it had not even been signalled, who knew that some “foul-play” had befallen it? Desperadoes might have sent it crashing into the lake at Dolygaer, or it might be that at Cefn masked men had boarded it, covering the driver with their “derringers”, while others looted whatever the guard’s van held as the equivalent of the gold nuggets of our literature.
Many of those who, in that long ago, kept with me the vigil of the trolleys are now staid citizens with small boys of their own. It may be that, with the hypocritical virtue of age, those old companions now chide their youngsters should they come home a little late, bringing with them a faint odour of fish and vegetables. But it may be, too, that if any of those little boys of former time chance to read what is here written they will temper paternal judgement with new mercy, for so they must do if they can remember the thrill of those dark winter evenings when, from that far romantic void, the “Brecon and Merthyr” came home at last – with driver and stoker lit by the glow of boiler-fires to the semblance of heroes more than mortal.
This article was transcribed from the book ‘The Legend of the Welsh’, an anthology of J. O. Francis’ writings published in 1924.
I would recommend anyone to try to track down a copy of the book – it’s a fantastic collection of some of the short works by one of Merthyr’s best, but sadly forgotten. writers.
The Railways of Romance – part 1
Today marks the 140th anniversary of the birth of one of Merthyr’s greatest writers – J. O. Francis. To mark the occasion, one of his excellent short essays is transcribed below, following a short introduction by Mary Owen who wrote a marvellous biography of him.
John Oswald Francis (J.O.) was born at 15, Mary Street, Twynyrodyn in 1882, and lived later at 41, High Street, next door to Howfields, when his father, a blacksmith, opened a farrier shop in the busy shopping centre. In 1896 he entered the County Intermediate and Technical School on the day of its opening and benefited greatly, like many others, from the education he received there. It formed the grounding for the rest of his life. A blacksmith’s life was not for him. In 1900, he gained a scholarship to University College of Wales, Aberystwyth, where he graduated with first class honours in English.
He lived for the rest of his life in London, where he was well known as a dramatist, journalist, broadcaster and a popular public speaker. He found fame in 1913 with his play, Change, about ordinary Welsh working-class people and the problems they were facing as changes were taking place in politics, religion and education. It was the first of its kind and gave a new genre to drama, which influenced writers for decades. Although he lived away from Merthyr Tydfil for most of his life, his knowledge of it in his youth inspired him to write about it in the years that followed until his death in 1956. His many short comedies helped to bring about the popularity of amateur dramatics, especially in Glamorgan. He was a pioneer and he became a leading member of the First Welsh National Drama Movement. He was regarded as ‘a distinguished dramatist, ‘a gentle satirist, and ‘always a Merthyr boy’.
Mary Owen
The Railways of Romance
None of us can determine which of the impressions we are always unconsciously receiving is being most deeply written on our minds. What abides is, often enough, that which might least be expected to remain. It is, too, sometimes a little incongruous, as if memory were in part jester, playing tricks with recollection – perhaps in kindness – lest the past should have too grim a visage.
Setting up to be a serious and philosophic person, I must confess to some perplexity over my remembrance of South Wales. There is an interloping thought that persists in creeping into the midst of more exalted memories. I cannot think of the high places of my early destiny – my home, my school, the houses of my more generous relations, and the chapel of my juvenile theology – but that a railway station crowds unasked into the mental scene. In the station of that Town of the Martyr in Glamorgan, an there, no doubt, small boys, stealing away from the harsh realities of the High Street, still snatch a fearful joy upon the trolleys, and staring away past the signal box, weave for themselves the figments of young romance.
The small boy’s zest in railway stations has, I may argue in self-defence, a basis in the deep instincts of humanity. In the old primitive world the barbarian, looking up on the sun, was overwhelmed by a sense of its vast power. He made a god of it, and bowed in reverence. So, also, that unequivocal barbarian, the average small boy, beholds in a railway engine an example of power well within the range of his understanding. It is, perhaps, the same old instinct of adoration that kindles in every healthy youngster his burning desire to be a railway-guard.
Even in this riper stage, when life holds joys more attractive than the right to blow the whistle and to jump authoritatively upon a moving train, I find that a railway station can still exercise a certain lure. To every good Welshman, Paddington and Euston are wondrous places. He may not be one of the happy pilgrims, but it is a pleasure merely to look at carriages that go out under such banners as “Cardiff”, “Fishguard”, “Aberystwyth”, “Dolgelley” or “Barmouth”, and if he is not quite a curmudgeon he can find a vicarious delight in the blessedness of those departing.
But Paddington and Euston have a strenuous air. They do not encourage people to loiter upon trolleys and watch the pageant of the trains. In that station of the Martyr’s Town there was more tolerance. Over Paddington and Euston it had also this other advantage – it did not monotonously receive and despatch the rolling-stock of a single company. Oh, no! It had trains in a variety that I have never since seen equalled. Almost all the lines in Glamorgan gathered to it, just as all paths are said to lead to Rome.
Simply to enumerate the companies that sent their trains to pause under that grimy but catholic roof is to recover something of the rapture of the schoolboy “with shiny morning face”. We had the “Great Western” and the “Taff”; the “London North Western”, the “Rhymney”, and the “Brecon and Merthyr”. I am sorry that, by some kindly roundabout way, the Barry Railway did not run in also. But I am sure that it was then much more than a project.
We small boys of the station-hunting breed knew the different types of engine point by point. We had each of us a favourite. Bitter indeed were our disputes on the question of comparative worth, and devotion went occasionally to the chivalry of fisticuffs. Squeaky voices were raised in partisan abuse. Young eyes shone with the light of a noble championship. (Grown-up people, I have since learnt, land themselves in the law courts for issues less important than those falsetto controversies).
The engine of each company had its own characteristic quality, fully appreciated in our loving study after school hours and in the joyous emancipation of Saturday. The “Great Western” arrived from some vague place called “Swansea” – made after the “local” model, and with its well-known “tick, tick!” rather like a stout lady in a dark-green costume catching her breath after exhausting movement. To many of us the “Taff” was the most impressive of them all. I daresay that on a general suffrage, with a secret ballot to nullify the influence of some of our brawnier members, the “Taff” would have been voted the finest thing that ever went on wheels. How big and burly was the “Taff” engine as it swung past the signal box! How cheerfully it whistled, and how inevitably did it suggest a robust representation of John Bull!
Often did we wonder what would happen if it failed to stop before it reached the buffers. About our expectant platform hung the legend of a day when an engine had crashed right through and gone in mad career almost to the door of the Temperance Hall without. But not for us were such catastrophes! They were the story of an older era, a reminiscence of giants before the flood.
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.
Now it always occurs to me that the doctoring system is a remainder of what in other cases would be called the truck system. Pray understand, I know how careful and skilful medical men are generally, and how admirably they perform their duties, yet there is always the thought that the system does not always co-ordinate with those general principles adopted in other things.
My own conviction is that truck in the early age of Merthyr was actually a necessity. When the works really began they were small, and no certainty of continuance. I am well aware of attempts that have been tried in various systems to alter it, but the system seems too firmly rooted to be altered for some time at least. An experiment in the adoption of a another method is, I believe, now being tried.
After a while Plymouth had Mr Probert (who by the bye, had been an assistant of Mr Russell), and so remained until his death, I think, but yet doubt that he resigned previously. Penydarren had Mr John Martin, and Mr Russell retained Dowlais, but it passed into the hands of his nephew Mr John Russell, for some time, and on his leaving Dr John Ludford White came to Dowlais.
This gentleman married a niece of Mr Wm. Forman, of the firm of Thompson and Forman, Cannon House, Queen Street, London, and after some years moved to Oxford, with the intention, it was said, of taking higher degrees. Dr White obtained the appointment through the recommendation of the London physician of Sir J John Guest, and in order that an accurate knowledge of the requirements might be, had visited Dowlais to see for himself. I remember him there, and an incident followed that will be mentioned when Dowlais is visited which will show the kind-heartedness of Sir John, and I hope also to mention one demonstrating his decision of character and another where I saw him weep.
We now return to Mr Russell’s surgery. A little further down, on the other side was Adullam (sic) Chapel, and cottages thence to the road to Twynyrodyn, while on the same side as Mr Russell’s was the way from the High Street, John Street by name, cottages somewhat irregular. The old playhouse also stood here; yes reader. It was a stone and mortar structure, and was for a long time unused.
Further on there was the Fountain Inn, between which and the Glove and Shears the road passed to Dowlais over Twynyrodyn, Pwllyrwhiad etc, but we cross and a few yards brings me to what was the boundary wall of Hoare’s garden, which continued down to where the line to Dowlais is now.
It has been my pleasure to see many gardens, but in all my experience I never saw one kept in such trim as this. Upon its being taken for the railway, Hoare started a garden and public house, if I remember well, at Aberdare Junction. Owing to the Taff Vale Company not allowing anyone to cross the line, a very long way around became a necessity to get there, and he did not do as well as anticipated or (I think) deserved.
Lower down the tramroad were some cottages on the right hand side, in one of which, adjoining the Shoulder of Mutton, a cask of powder exploded. It was kept under the bed upstairs for safety, and, lifting the roof off its walls, it fell some dozen yards away. The roof was covered with the thin flagstones often used and very little damaged. No one was fatally injured but one or two were injured, and altogether it was a wonderful escape. Moral: Do not keep a cask of explosive material upstairs under the bed!
To be continued at a later date……
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.
It may, perhaps, be apropros to explain as to the basin and Merthyr Tramroad. In “Tredgold on Railways” it is stated that the tramroad was made under Parliamentary powers, but upon my saying so in his hearing the late Mr Charles Herbert James told me it was not so, but that it was constructed by private arrangement. Be that, however, as it may, it is certain it was made with a branch to the canal at Merthyr, and the total number of shares was 14, of which nine belonged to the Dowlais Company, three to the Penydarren, and two to the Plymouth Companies.
These proportions remained until the Dowlais Company’s application to Parliament to construct the branch from the Taff Vale Railway to Dowlais, when, after a good deal of fighting, the Dowlais Company agreed to hand over their interest in the Tramroad if the opposing companies withdrew opposition.
It may, perhaps, be unknown to some of your readers that Parliament would not give powers to make a railway unless it was shown to be a public benefit, and, therefore, the conveyance of passengers as well as goods, other than the requirements of the works, had to be proved and the obligation of carrying for the public undertaken. The Act was passed, and the line being made, passengers were taken to Dowlais down the incline. Through carriages were run from Cardiff, and were detached at the bottom of the incline, and reconnected as necessary, but it did not do very well, and a fatal accident arising from the carriages running wild caused a discontinuance of that passenger traffic.
As far as can be recollected, some buses were started to run, but they were subsidized by the Dowlais Company for some time. At the first opening of the Taff Vale Railway to Merthyr – it had previously opened to Navigation (Abercynon) – the Dowlais Company made a connection, and drew their buses to the Basin tramroad alongside of what is now the connection; unloading, or rather, the transfer of their traffic from the railway to the tramroad being carried out at the foot of the incline. For their assistance by way of evidence, Mr John Locke, the engineer of the then so-called Grand Junction Railway was had, and in describing the old tramroad, he distinctly stated it was not usable for locomotives. Upon its being conveyed to him that there was in the committee room a person who had gone over it on an engine with load scores, if non hundreds of times, he corrected his stated, and qualified it by adding “not economically”.
It has been stated that nine shares were given up by the Dowlais Company; of these, five were apportioned to Penydarren, and four to Plymouth, their respective shares thus becoming: Penydarren, eight; Plymouth, six. Although the Penydarren Works came to a stop, these shares continued as an appanage, and upon the acquisition and re-starting of Penydarren by the Plymouth Company, the shares naturally passed to that company, and although the whole has now become of little value (at least, at the present) it would seem as if the old road from Penydarren end was now entirely vested in the Plymouth Company.
To be continued at a later date…..