Charles Wilkins – The Melting Pot

The Cyfarthfa Philosophical Society – part 2

by Andrew Green

The Society ‘continued to flourish for some considerable time’. Members met in the Dynevor Arms in Georgetown, and listened to and debated lectures on all kinds of scientific and technological subjects, with a decided emphasis on astronomy. Owen Evans lectured on ‘the use of the globe’, while John Jones spoke on astronomy; both were Unitarian ministers.

Dynevor Arms. Courtesy of the Alan George Archive

But the Cyfarthfa Philosophical Society was far from being a usual collection of establishment figures and technocrats absorbed only by science. It was also a crucible of radical political and heterodox theological thinking. Its presiding figure was Rhys Hywel Rhys of Vaynor. He was a stonemason, self-taught astronomer and poet, and also a Jacobin, who subscribed to the radical newspaper The Cambridge Intelligencer. His atheism was overt. When he died in 1817 an englyn was carved on his gravestone that conveys his atomistic philosophy:

‘Rol ing a gwewyr angau
I ddryllio fy mhriddelau
Rhwng awyr, daear, dwr a than,
Mi ymrana’n fân ronynau.

After the pains and pangs of death
Will have shattered my earthly tenement
Between earth, air, fire, and water,
I shall separate into minute particles

Charles Wilkins, who as the son of a Chartist was sympathetic to radical causes, writes this about Rhys Hywel Rhys:

He devoted himself with great energy to the collection of a fund by which most valuable instruments were bought, such as were far beyond the individual means of any one of the members. Then, when these were bought, the members named Rhys as their president, and many an evening was passed in the endeavour to solve the most difficult questions with which their favourite sciences abounded. On the formation of the Society, it was wisely decided to confine the meetings solely to scientific matters, excluding political and religious subjects. This was rendered all the more necessary as the members were great readers of controversial works, and disposed to form opinions of their own, instead of having them formed for them. But it is not to be expected that a Society of thoughtful minds would assemble without occasionally diving below the current, and endeavour to solve to their own satisfaction certain points of science and the Bible, which, in their day, were believed to be sternly conflicting, and in discordance with each other. And this they did at friendly meetings, even if they were rigid enough to exclude the subject at their Society. We can readily believe that such discussion, with gleanings from “Tom Payne,” Mirabeau, Volney, and the Rational School, had a tendency to awaken doubt, and the failure to reconcile the God of the Hebrews with the God of Nature to confirm those doubts, and warp some of them from sect and creed to Deism. A few, we understand, became Unitarians, and some remained Orthodox. We should not be surprised at this, for the ranks of the French doubters were composed of men of high reputation, and the sallies of Gibbon and of Hume against the citadel of the faith had been keen and well sustained. The very intellectual atmosphere, so to speak, was one of doubt, and all this was in natural sequence.

Elsewhere Wilkins outlines the advanced thinking of the Philosophers gathered around Rhys Hywel Rhys:

In the days of its infancy, the members were exposed to considerable sarcasm by the ingenious efforts of Rhys, who, in order to exercise himself in mechanical ingenuity, constructed a duck ‘that did everything but quack.’ Good, but foolish people, inferred from this that the society aimed at rivalling the deity, and condemned them; while others made it a theme for constant raillery. The members were deep thinkers—astute politicians and though debarred from discussing any polemics in their society hours, yet they were only too happy to tread the debateable tracks of religious politics and philosophy; and some even indulged in opinions which led the Cyfarthfa school of philosophers to become rather unjustly associated with positive Atheism. Paine and Voltaire had their admirers; and when it was a punishable offence to read the works of the former, a few, who thought highly of his Rights of man and Age of reason, would assemble in secret places on the mountains, and, taking the works from concealed places under a large boulder or so, read them with great unction. But if Paine had admirers he had also enemies, for at the same time religious men had the nails in their boots arranged to form T. P., that then they might figuratively tread Tom Paine underfoot.

The Society was just one of many institutions in Merthyr that nurtured a spirit of questioning, dissent and protest. The Calvinists were relatively weak in the town, whereas Unitarians and other less rigid, free-thinking churches had many adherents: many of the Society’s early members belonged to the Unitarian chapel in Merthyr or the Hen Dy Cwrdd chapel in Cefn-Coed-y-Cymer. Many ‘friendly societies’ – the precursors of trade unions – were set up in the town around the time of the Society’s beginning. Together these and other local institutions helped to build an autonomous political culture of confident radicalism that would make Merthyr a natural centre for industrial strikes, Chartist reform, trade unions and other workers’ movements later in the nineteenth century.

Wilkins is vague about the subsequent history of the Cyfarthfa Philosophical Society. After the deaths or removals of many founders the Society almost collapsed. It was resuscitated for a while, with a new subscription and set of rules. Further scientific instruments were acquired, and books added to a library. But ‘a few years ago’ the Society was dissolved and it became amalgamated with the Merthyr Subscription Library. Charles Wilkins himself became Librarian of the Library when it was established in 1846; its co-founder and Secretary was Thomas Stephens, the literary historian, reformer and Unitarian.

Reproduced with the kind permission of Andrew Green. To see the original, please click https://gwallter.com/history/the-cyfarthfa-philosophical-society.html

The Cyfarthfa Philosophical Society – part 1

by Andrew Green

Penry Williams, Cyfarthfa Ironworks interior at night (1825). (Cyfarthfa Castle Museum and Art Gallery)

The end of the eighteenth and the beginning of the nineteenth century saw the rise of local ‘literary and philosophical institutions’ throughout the British Isles. They aimed to bring together like-minded people to discuss issues of the day. The label ‘philosophy’ usually meant not logic or metaphysics, but an interest in the latest developments in science and technology, at a time when their study was in rapid flux as the industrial revolution gathered pace. Typically, members gathered to listen and respond to lectures by visiting speakers. Some societies also owned premises, issued publications, maintained libraries and museums, and even, as in the case of the Swansea Philosophical and Literary Institution (later the Royal Institution of South Wales), equipped and ran a scientific laboratory.

Most literary and philosophical societies were dominated by the upper and middle classes: members of the gentry and clergy, scientists, industrialists and engineers. And so, on the face of it, was the Cyfarthfa Philosophical Society, set up in Merthyr Tydfil in 1807. But all was not quite as it seemed.

Penry Williams, Crawshay’s Cyfarthfa Ironworks (1817) (National Museum Wales)

At this time Merthyr was entering its heyday as one of the most dynamic and rapidly expanding towns in Britain, thanks to the numerous iron works set up in and around its centre. The ironworks – Cyfarthfa was one of the two largest – employed large numbers of skilled and semi-skilled workers, and the town also housed the works’ owners, engineers, managers and agents, and others like shopkeepers who serviced the residents. Early on in its explosive growth, despite its lack of physical infrastructure, like decent housing, sanitation and schools, Merthyr had a lively community culture, centred on its many chapels. From the start of the nineteenth century its people developed a tradition of industrial protest and political radicalism. In 1831 disaffection boiled over into what became known as the Merthyr Rising.

Most of what’s known about the Cyfarthfa Philosophical Society comes from Charles Wilkins’s A History of Merthyr Tydfil, published much later in 1867. This is how Wilkins (left) describes how the Society began, apparently with a strong interest in astronomy:

On December 15th, 1807, sixty persons, living in Merthyr and its neighbourhood, met together, and subscribed a guinea each towards buying such apparatus as was deemed suitable; but that sum proving inadequate, it was augmented by a good many of them subscribing another half-guinea. The instruments were had, a code of rules drawn up, and a few books on astronomy purchased. It gives us a tolerable notion of the capacity of the members when we learn that the list of instruments was composed of a good reflecting telescope, a pair of globes, a microscope, a planetarium, an orrery, an equatorial, and other philosophical apparatus. (p.269)

Wilkins gives the names of the most prominent of the founding members:

J. Bailey, Esq., an M.P., and a large iron-master; the poet and stone-cutter, Rees Howell Rees; John Griffiths and William Williams, afterwards famous as engineers and mechanicians; William Aubrey, the mill contractor; Thomas Evans, the philosopher, astronomer, and mathematician, of Cyfarthfa ; Benjamin Saunders, the ingenious moulder; Henry Kirkhouse, the mineral agent; and several others more or less able in their respective callings.

Joseph Bailey was the nephew of Richard Crawshay, the founder of the Cyfarthfa Ironworks. He inherited a quarter share in the works, but sold it in 1813 and bought the Nant-y-Glo works. Later he added the Beaufort works. He converted much of his large profits into land, and lived at Glanusk Park. Possibly Bailey was chosen as the ‘respectable figurehead’ of the Society.

Anon., William Williams, Chief Engineer of the Cyfarthfa Ironworks (c1810) (Cyfarthfa Castle Museum and Art Gallery)

Most of the other men Wilkins mentioned were highly skilled technologists connected with the Cyfarthfa Ironworks. John Griffiths and William Williams were both engineers there. Griffiths built steam-engines. In 1829 Williams invented the first machine for testing the tensile strength of metals. In later life, it was said, he became so large that he had to be moved around the works in a specially built trolley. His son, Morgan Williams, became the leading Merthyr Chartist. William Aubrey of Tredegar helped design the extensive water systems at Cyfarthfa. ‘None of his contemporaries’, his obituary in Seren Gomer said, ‘was as skilful as he was in inventing and setting up all kinds of engines and machines worked by fire and water’. Benjamin Saunders, the ‘ingenious moulder’ at the Cyfarthfa works, later described as ‘an amalgam of an inventive brain and a deft hand’, built a planetarium, a quadrant, a thermometer, a water-gauge and a weather-glass. Henry Kirkhouse was the mineral agent at Cyfarthfa for more than half a century, and ‘retained the respect of all who came in contact with him – from Mr Crawshay to the humblest miner’.

To be continued……

Reproduced with the kind permission of Andrew Green. To see the original, please click https://gwallter.com/history/the-cyfarthfa-philosophical-society.html

Merthyr Tydfil to Aber Cynon Tramroad – part 1

by Gwilym and John Griffiths

Some sources have recorded that this tramroad (then called a dram road) was started around 1800 by agreement between William Taitt of Dowlais, Samuel Homfray of Pen y Darren and Richard Hill of Plymouth. They added that the construction, under the supervision of George Overton, was allegedly started in 1799 and finished in 1802. Yet see under Leases 1800 for a few of the early leases in summary. It seems that Richard Fothergill was much involved in setting up these leases. In addition, the route was always described as being from Morlais Castle to Navigation House. The route was from Pen y Darren to Aber Cynon, 9½ miles, a fall of 341 feet. Brief details were recorded in The Pen y Darren Locomotive by Stuart Owen-Jones.

The tramroad was used briefly (three times or numerous times, see below) with a trial of Trevithick’s steam engine on Tuesday 21 Feb 1804, returning to Pen y Darren the following day, but shortly thereafter the tramroad reverted to horse power for many further years. The weight of the steam-engine apparently damaged the rails. However, Charles Wilkins, ‘The History of Merthyr Tydfil’, page 252, thought that the engine, ‘after serving a long time on the tramway, was removed to a pit called Winch Fawr (in the hamlet of Heol Wermwd not the one in the hamlet of Gelli Deg), and finally taken to the top of the incline owned by the Pen y Darren Company at Cwm Bargod.’ We are not so sure. Richard Trevithick himself recorded the event from which the following summary is appropriate:

On Saturday 11 Feb 1804, the fire was lit in the ‘Tram Waggon’ and Richard Trevithick worked it without the wheels to try the engine.
On Monday 13 Feb 1804, they put the waggon on the ‘Tram Road’. It worked very well and ran up hill and down with great ease and was very manageable. There was plenty of power.
Between 13 Feb and 20 Feb 1804 the ‘Tram Waggon’ had been worked several times. They had tried loads of up to ten tons, and it worked easily. He was sure it could cope with forty tons. Richard Trevithick intended making a smaller engine for the tram road as the first one had too much power, and would be used instead to work a hammer.
On Tuesday 21 Feb 1804 they made the journey with the engine. They carried ten tons, presumably of iron, in five waggons, with seventy men riding on them for the whole of the journey. He recorded, very clearly, that it took four hours and five minutes to cover the nine miles because they had to cut down some trees and remove some large rocks out of the tram road. No mention of the stack being knocked down by a bridge or any problem with the ‘tunnel’ by Plymouth Works. They returned, but a broken bolt released the water, and the engine did not arrive back at Pen y Darren Works until the evening of Wednesday 22 Feb 1804. No mention of broken tramway plates or of having to be hauled back to Pen y Darren by horse.
Later they tried the carriage with twenty-five tons of iron, and found the engine was more than a match for that weight. The steam was delivered into the chimney above the damper. It made the draught much stronger by going up the chimney. Trevithick’s locomotive was the first to employ this very important principle of turning the exhaust steam up the chimney, so producing a draft which drew the hot gases from the fire more powerfully through the boiler.

In May 1854, some forty years later, Thomas Ellis, an engineer from Tredegar, wrote a letter describing the first journey the Pen y Darren locomotive took in February, 1804. His father was at Pen y Darren when the engine was made and tried. Samuel Homfray, proprietor of the Pen y Darren Works, Merthyr Tydfil, made a bet of 1,000 guineas with Richard Crawshay, of the Cyfarthfa Works, that Trevithick’s steam-engine could convey a load of iron from his works to the Navigation House, nine miles distant.

To be continued……

The Pioneers of the Welsh Iron Industry

Following on from the recent article about Charles Wilkins, here is a transcription of an article written by him for an issue of his publication ‘The Red Dragon’, which appeared 140 years ago this month.

It is a little over one hundred years ago, in May, 1782, when a messenger came from Wales into the neighbourhood of Stourbridge with great news. One Mr. Bacon had started an ironworks near a village called Merthyr, and he wanted a lot of men. There was a good deal of gossip caused by this. A recruiting sergeant coming into an English village to enlist lads for glory could not have made a greater ferment. Merthyr was “far down in Wales,” and Wales to many seemed as distant as America. “You have to go,” said the messenger, “to Gloucester in a boat, and then trust to the channel and work round as far as Cardiff, and then it is a couple of days’ journey up the mountains.”

There was, I repeat, a good deal of ferment, and no little hesitation, but at last the requisite number of hands was got, and away they went, bidding sorrowful farewells—many of them knowing it may be for years or it may be forever.” It would not do, they thought, to take their household gods with them, but the pets—Bill’s dog, and Tom’s cat—could not be left behind. The Lees carried between them a wicker cage in which was a shining blackbird. Let us look at them a moment, for they were the pioneers of our old English residents, the Homfrays, Hemuses, Lees, Browns, Turleys, Wilds, Millwards, and they are worthy of more than a passing notice. Powerful men, all of them, trained to labour from youth, and full of hope and of determination. They are going as settlers amongst strange people, who speak a different language, and who may resent the incoming of strangers. Well, let them. The strangers are not only strong, but God-fearing men, and they take sturdily to the boat which tediously carries them down to Worcester.

So tedious was the journey that when Worcester was reached one or two of the men wanted to go back home again, but Homfray, the leader, would not hear of it, and his hand being hard, and his voice strong, they gave in. Gloucester was at length reached, and at that place a barge was hired and down the Severn they went, hugging the coast wherever they could. But somehow or other when night came on the barge drifted out into mid channel, and to their horror on came a storm.

Now everyone wished himself back at the village of Stewpovey, where most of them came from! How fiercely they looked at Homfray, who had led them into this trouble. Presently, however, the storm abated, and they found themselves under Penarth Head, and there was not much difficulty after that in landing at Cardiff. Very small, very insignificant was Cardiff then; a few streets clustering about the Castle, and only a little life there when the boat came once a week from Bristol. At Cardiff, waggons were hired and up the wayfarers toiled through the valley, reaching Merthyr at last.

One of the old pioneers, pipe in mouth and grandson on knee, used in his declining days to tell the wondering listeners his experience of the voyage, and the journey through Merthyr to Cyfarthfa. It was a small place, he said, was Merthyr; just a village like; small houses, fields, and gardens on one side or the other. The houses were thatched, and as the strangers rode by in their waggons their heads were on a level with the eaves. The old inhabitants used to think a two-storied house extravagance. What was the use of mounting upstairs to go to bed?

On reaching Merthyr the wanderers lodged where they could. The “Star” was the principal inn, the “Crown” was a thatched house. At the “Boot,” Ben Brown, being short of funds, sold his dog for ninepence. It was like parting with his own flesh and blood! Then with the morning they were up, and in consultation with Bacon, who had contracted with Homfray to’ build a forge. The work was done as quickly as possible, for the American war was raging, and guns were needed. In due time the forge was got ready. Every man, woman, and child from the village came up to the opening. Shonny Cwmglo was there with his wonderful harp. Shonny could play every tune, although he had never learned a note, and he played away till he was a hundred, or ever the silver strings were loosed, and, his feeble hands falling from the strings, he laid him down and died. The boys and girls danced, and the men and women raised their voices in gladness when the forge was started.

A species of delirium seized upon everybody, and the harper played like the fiddler of Prague, increasing the madness. Homfray seizing Hemus’s new hat, a wonderful thing, threw it under the hammer, and his own followed like magic. Ale houses did a great trade that day and night. Robert Peel’s policemen and “Bruce” were all in the far-off future at that time. Many of the pioneers died at a brave old age, long before- policemen came into existence.

For several years Bacon and the Homfrays worked well together, but one day there was a falling out, and a fight, and the friendship was never renewed on the old lines. Homfray did not care to go back again with the Browns and the Wilds, who were now getting settled. Some of them had fallen in love with the dark-eyed daughters of the village; and courting had been so pleasant to a few that others had followed. The broken English of the maidens was so pretty, and their eyes had such a fire in them. Many a girl, though, had to be won by fierce fighting, for the boys of the village had no love for the strangers. On Saturdays, when strangers and villagers met, drank, and fought, the village constable discreetly kept out of the way. Things have changed since then.

To understand the story of the starting of Penydarran we must turn back a page or two of the book of history. Homfray passing by the ravine on the right of the roadway as you ascend from Merthyr to Dowlais, was struck with its adaptability for the site of an ironworks, and rented it for £3 a year. He and two other Homfrays were joined by a Londoner, named Forman, who held some kind of office at the Tower, and had saved a lot of money. Then together they built a furnace, and went along swimmingly. In 1796 they built furnace No. 2, and brought another lot of men from Staffordshire. In that year they fairly eclipsed even Dowlais itself; for while Dowlais turned out 2,100 tons in the year, Penydarran could show a make of 4,100 tons, or nearly double. Penydarran was regarded as the more important centre in every way. We have only to turn to the rate books to see that while Penydarran was rated at £3,000, Dowlais was only rated at £2,000, and Plymouth at £750. By 1803 Penydarran made fifty tons of bar iron weekly. It is to John Davies, father of Mr D. Davies, J.P., of Galon Uchaf, and of the Morriston Tinplate Works, that is due the honour of rolling the first bar. The son afterwards arose to be the owner of the works. What Penydarran accomplished in after days and how under Trevethick its owners started the first locomotive that ever ran, must be left for another paper.

Merthyr’s Historians: Charles Wilkins

Over the years, Merthyr has produced some excellent historians, and I would like to introduce a new feature celebrating some of them. To mark the 110th anniversary of his death, we kick off with Merthyr’s first ‘official’ historian – Charles Wilkins.

Charles Wilkins was born on 16 August 1830 in Stonehouse, Gloucestershire, the second of nine children of William Wilkins, a Chartist bookseller, and Anna Maria Wilkins. In 1840 the family moved to Merthyr, with William Wilkins opening a shop on the High Street (opposite the current Lloyd’s Bank), and eventually becoming postmaster at the post office adjoining his business. At the age of fourteen, Charles left school to work with his father as a clerk at the post office.

In 1859, Charles married Lydia Jeans and they settled at Springfield Villa in Thomastown. The (by contemporary accounts) idyllic marriage was shattered in 1867 when Lydia died giving birth to their third child.

The following year, Charles married Mary Skipp in Topsley, Herefordshire, and she would bear him two further children.

In 1871, William Wilkins died, and Charles took over as postmaster.

From 1846 to 1866 he was also librarian of the Merthyr Tydfil Subscription Library of which Thomas Stephens was secretary.

From the age of fourteen, Charles began writing articles for local and national Welsh newspapers, and in 1867, he published ‘The History of Merthyr Tydfil’, the first ‘official history of the town. It was subsequently extended and re-published in 1908.

As well as writing some fiction, he also wrote several other major historical works including:-

Wales, Past and Present (1870) (The History of Wales for Englishmen)
Tales and Sketches of Wales (1879, 1880)
The History of the Literature of Wales from 1300 to 1650 (1884)
The History of Newport (1886)
The South Wales Coal Trade and Its Allied Industries (1888)
The History of the Iron, Steel, Tinplate and Other Trades of Wales (1903)

In 1877, he was “initiated into the mysteries of the Druidic lore”, and at the 1881 National Eisteddfod, held in Merthyr Tydfil, he won a £21 prize (approximately equivalent to £2,100 in 2019) and gold medal for the best “History of the Literature of Monmouthshire and Glamorganshire from the earliest period to the present time.” In 1882 he founded ‘The Red Dragon: The National Magazine of Wales’. That same year, it was reported in the Western Mail (7 December 1882) that, “after careful examination of the various works written by Mr. Wilkins”, he was “unanimously elected to the super graduate Degree of Literature (Lit. D.)” by the Druidic University of America and its affiliate in Maine.

Charles Wilkins retired as postmaster at the end of 1897 after almost 50 years of service. He died at Springfield Villa on 2 August 1913 and was buried at Cefn Cemetery.

Although his history of Merthyr contain some inaccuracies; bearing in mind when it was written, and that a lot of it was based on oral history; it is a remarkable work, being the first of its kind to chronicle Merthyr’s history, and it is an invaluable resource to use as a starting point for further research.

You can download the 1867 version of Wilkins history of Merthyr here:

https://www.google.co.uk/books/edition/The_History_of_Merthyr_Tydfil/FWk1AQAAIAAJ?hl=en&gbpv=0

The 1908 revision is available here:

https://www.google.co.uk/books/edition/_/A_YRnQEACAAJ?hl=en&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwiBkKbRz7OAAxXvX_EDHX-LDaAQre8FegQIAxAc

Lucy Thomas

Following on from the last post here is a bit more about Lucy Thomas.

Lucy Thomas was born in Llansamlet, the daughter of Job Williams and his wife Ann Williams (née James). Her exact date of birth is not known, but records show that she was baptised on 11 March 1781. Very little is known about her early life, but on 30 June 1802, she married Robert Thomas, a contractor of a coal level producing fuel for Cyfarthfa Ironworks.

In 1828 Robert Thomas took up an annual tenancy from Lord Plymouth for the opening and mining of a small coal level at Waun Wyllt, near Abercanaid, south of Merthyr. The contract forbade Robert Thomas from trading with the four local ironworks which were under the ownership of Lord Plymouth. Although little was expected from the level, it was the first to hit the ‘Four Foot Seam, a rich deposit of high quality steam coal. The mine initially sold its coal to local households in Merthyr and Cardiff, with a tramline being constructed from Thomas’ level to the Glamorganshire Canal to allow transportation to Cardiff Docks. Within a couple of years of the level being opened Robert was in contract with George Insole a Cardiff trader. In November 1830 Insole had agreed the shipment of 413 tons of steam coal from Waun Wyllt to London.

Abercanaid House – the home of Robert & Lucy Thomas. Photo courtesy of the Alan George Archive

In 1833 Robert Thomas died. Lucy Thomas and their eldest son Robert were granted probate and from that time Insole’s payments for the coal dispatched were paid to them. Through Insole a contact was written with Messer’s Wood and Company to supply the London-based coal merchants for a quantity of 3,000 tons of coal per year. These early deals with the London markets helped establish the reputation of Welsh coal and how Thomas became known as ‘The Mother of the Welsh Steam Coal Trade’. Although Thomas and her son Robert were credited with this success, it is now believed that much of this success was down to Insole.

The embellishment of Thomas’ achievements are today attributed to Merthyr historian Charles Wilkins, who wrote an account of Thomas in 1888. Wilkins had a penchant for imaginative touches and his work gave the impression of Thomas as an enterprising woman who looked to set up new markets, whereas evidence now suggest that this work was conducted by her agents. Further research has also shown that coal had been shipped to London from Wales before either of the Thomas’ began extracting coal from their level, with shipments from Llanelli and Swansea being exported to the capital as early as 1824.

In the mid-1830s the lease for the Waun Wyllt level was terminated and Thomas instead leased the neighbouring Graig Pit which also exploited the ‘Four Foot Seam’.

In September 1847 Lucy Thomas contracted typhoid fever and died two weeks later on 27 September 1847 at her home in Abercanaid. She was buried at the family plot in the cemetery of the Hen Dy Cwrdd chapel at Cefn-Coed. Despite this evidence available today, the myth of a sole woman engaging in a near-total male dominated industry has endured. This myth was given further credence with the construction of a fountain on the High Street of Merthyr Tydfil in commemoration of Lucy Thomas and her son Robert. It was part funded by her granddaughter’s husband, William Lewis, 1^stBaron Merthyr.

All of this being said, Lucy Thomas was indeed a remarkable woman who forged the way for women in industry.

The Meaning of ‘Gurnos’

Gurnos
by Carl Llewellyn

Some time ago I read an article in an old edition of the Merthyr Express. It was written by a J.R. Evans of Aberdare who complained that many local Welsh place names were incorrectly spelt; he then gave his interpretation why places in our locality were so named. Many Welsh place names were bestowed centuries ago and were often descriptive of their pictorial detail. Perhaps because these place names were seldom written, and again because of the inability of the English to pronounce Welsh words, in some cases these words become so changed in form they become unrecognisable and unintelligible, with the original signification being entirely lost.

Examples of the mutilation of Welsh place names can be found in “Lechwedd” (meaning a slope) has become “Leckwith” near Cardiff, and “Rhaiadr” (water fall) becoming “Radyr”. When referring to the name “Gurnos”, it immediately brings to mind one of the UK’s largest Housing estates situated near Prince Charles Hospital to a majority of people but most of them are not aware of its origin and translation. We often find the name of parts of the body are used in place names. For instance we speak of head or top of a hill, for instance Penydarren, (pen, head or top; y, of the; darren, a rocky hill) also Troedyrhiw (troed, foot; y, of the; rhiw slope). So the word “Cern” meaning “side of the head”, is applied similarity to the side of the hill, which perhaps has an even surface resembling earth moulds protruding on the side of the hill. There is a diminutive plural suffix “os”, when appended to “Cern” gives us “Cernos”, The placing of the letter “y” before the word modifies it into “Y Gernos”, meaning the lower side of the hill. In the opinion of J.R. Evans “Y Gernos” has been incorrectly spelt by some as the “Gurnos”. I tend to agree with J.R. Evans over the centuries it’s possible the word has been corrupted either by incorrect spelling or pronunciation. On the site of Gurnos Housing Estate once stood the “Gurnos” farm whose name aptly describing its location.

Gurnos Farm by Penry Williams. Photo courtesy of http://www.alangeorge.co.uk/index.htm

Charles Wilkins in his History of Merthyr Tydfil calls the farm “Gyrnos” and gives it derivation as “Carn-nos” (carn, a heap of stones; nos, night), signifying “Night Watch Beacon” stating that it may have reference to the warfare day of the district. You the reader must make up your own mind on the explanations for the Welsh word “Gurnos”. I concur that Charles Wilkins reference is a romanticised version while J.R.Evans interpretation has more of a down to earth explanation.

These differing points of view reminded me of a television series, “The Dragon Has Two Tongues”, where Wynford Vaughan-Thomas, and Professor Gwyn Alf Williams gave their own passionate satire about Wales.

Romans in Merthyr

I’m sure most people have heard of the Roman Fort at Penydarren, but how many of us know that much about it?

The first evidence of Roman occupation at Penydarren, was discovered in 1786 by workmen building Penydarren House for Samuel Homfray, owner of the Penydarren Ironworks. The site for the house (near the present day Penydarren Park) had lain undisturbed for centuries, and as the workmen began digging the foundations for the house, they firstly discovered a number of Roman bricks, and when these were cleared, they revealed a beautiful tessellated pavement made from hundreds of differently shaped and coloured clay cubes. However, no records were kept of what was discovered, but the story was passed down the generations orally, and the story was recorded by Charles Wilkins in his ‘History of Merthyr’ in 1867 – the first book written about Merthyr’s history.

In 1902, plans were made to build a new football ground at Penydarren Park, but before work could begin, a committee was formed to investigate the site. It wasn’t until this excavation that it was discovered that the remains were actually part of a Roman Fort.

Excavations started in September 1902, 200 yards west of Penydarren House. After removing the soil to a depth of about five feet, a hypocaust – a form of Roman under-floor heating was discovered. The hypocaust was connected to the remains of a furnace. Just about 12 yards from the furnace, the excavators found the remains of a brick building and a boundary wall. The remains of a Roman well were also discovered.

penydarrenpark_romanwell — Roman well discovered at Penydarren Park.

Two further excavations were carried out at Penydarren Park in 1957, and the eastern and northern defences of the fort were discovered. The eastern defences consisted of ‘two outer ditches and a rampart of clay with a rubble core, based upon a cobble foundation’. The northern rampart was of a similar design. At the north-eastern corner of the fort, the rampart was preserved to a height of five feet, its rubble core composed of large boulders, probably used as reinforcement for the corner. Within the rubble core a ten-inch stone-lined post-hole was found which indicated the existence of a timber angle tower.

The actual plan and dimensions of the fort are not known, but if we go by other typical Roman fort designs of the period; and assume the well found in 1902 was centrally placed within the fort, and a square outline is also assumed, then the dimensions would have been in the region of about 500 feet square across the rampart crests, and would have covered an area of almost 5¾ acres.

penydarren_park_planoftheromanfort — Plan of the Penydarren Roman Fort

But when was it built? The Royal Commission on the Ancient and Historical Monuments of Wales states:

“The dateable material is almost all early and clearly indicates that the fort was founded by Frontinus in the period 74-78 AD. It does not appear to have been held for very long. Recent re-examination of the pottery evidence indicates that occupation continued during the first third of the second century but no later.”

Pottery recovered from the site points to an early foundation for the original timber fort, very likely during the governorship of Julius Frontinus, which was replaced by stone fort around the turn of the second century. The bath-house which was discovered outside the fort’s southern defences is probably contemporary with the rebuilding of the fort itself, but the latest pottery recovered from the site is Trajanic, which suggests that the site may have been abandoned in the Hadrianic period and its garrison removed to man the northern defences of the province.

As we speak archaeological excavations organised by the Glamorgan-Gwent Archaeological Trust are in progress around Merthyr, so who knows what further secrets may be revealed?

Photo and plan courtesy of Old Merthyr Tydfil (http://www.alangeorge.co.uk/index.htm)

For more information about the Romans in Merthyr, check out the link below:
https://ggat.wordpress.com/2015/12/16/romans-in-merthyr-tydfil/