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.
Mr William Davies was the forge and mill manager at Cyfarthfa, and Mr John Jones, the furnace manager at Ynysfach. Mr Wiltshire was the vet or farrier (for the Veterinary College had not so many members then), but others also occur to me in other spheres of labour.
John Pritchard was the weigher on the top of the yard (approaching Gellideg). He was the father of the Dr Pritchard many of your readers may recall, living in High Street, opposite Glebeland Street. There was also a weigher at Ynysfach yard some few years later whose name I wish to mention; it was John Morgan, and his contributions to the mathematical part of the Gentleman’s Magazine of that time is ample evidence of his knowledge.
Possibly some of the descendents of those mentioned yet exist, and may read this – some can be recalled. Mr Davies, the mill manager had two daughters, one became Mrs John James (draper). Mr James married a Miss Kirkhouse, Llwyncelyn, an elder sister (half sister really) of the Rev Howell Kirkhouse. I do not think they had a family; nor can I recall either of Mr Jones’ brothers – William, who went to North Wales; or Charles, who went to London – having any; perhaps he (Charles) made up for it by becoming the secretary of the Welsh Girls’ School at Ashford.
At the present time, when ‘combines’ for trade purposes are rife, and ever and anon a paragraph appears respecting what Mr Robert Thompson Crawshay said he would have done of the workmen had fallen in with his views, perhaps it may be appropriately state what Mr Wm. Crawshay did do in order to meet the varying conditions of demand for produce.
No matter what the marketable produce may have to be – whether bars, rails, sheets or slit rods – all were made from puddled bars rolled to 3 and 3½ inches wide and one-half to five-eighths thick; these were all cut when hot to suit the length of the ‘pile’, as a rule these may be about 18 inches only. After being cut to the length they were taken to an open place – there was one in front of what was afterwards erected and called the Pandy Mill – where they were packed up in the form of a shed, with the roof on, say 16 feet or 18 feet long, 12 feet wide, and 10 feet to the commencement of the slope forming the roof. The weight of one of these ‘houses’ would be about 500 tons. In very bad times, many of these would be built; I think as many as twenty have been seen at one time at the spot indicated, besides others elsewhere, so that there was a stack of 20,000 tons ready for working off when the demand required.
The value of a ton of puddled bars varied from £3 up, so that if 20s were added to the value, there was a virtual profit of about 30 percent on the full amount. Tin-plate manufacturers work for stock occasionally, and the pig-iron manufacturers can deposit their produce and obtain an advance thereon, but rail makers, or bar-iron makers cannot do so to a great extent. In the one case, because of the section, on on the other, the difficulty of avoiding the oxidation. Is it any wonder that the Crawshays are wealthy?
To be continued at a later date.
I always look forward to reading the episodes of Memories of Old Merthyr, written by ‘unnnamed correspondent’ who looks back at the 1830s: they give us vital primary evidence of life in Merthyr Tydfil, then the most important urban development in south Wales. It was not yet regarded by Parliament as worthy of being called a town, despite the wealth and renown its iron industry and growing workforce were creating for Britain. The image of those ‘houses’ of stacked, puddled iron- bars on the Pandy field is very powerful.