Plymouth Iron Company – The Melting Pot

Death of Mr Fothergill

The article below is transcribed from the Evening Express 120 years ago today….

DEATH OF MR FOTHERGILL

Deceased a Former M.P. for Merthyr.

Mr. Richard Fothergill, formerly M.P. for Merthyr Tydfil, died at Sion House, Tenby, early this morning after an illness extending over a month.

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH

The redoubtable family of the Fothergills were early identified with Westmoreland and the “North Countrie.” They were products of the North—the bleak nursery of strong men. The philosopher of the buckle and lamp has endeavoured to trace analogies between the magnetic and the mental. That we pass over; but certainly from the North came many of the pioneers of we iron and coal world, though not, be it added, without a blending of native genius.

The Fothergills first appeared in this country at Lydbrook, in the Forest of Dean, at Tredegar, and next in the Aberdare district, where the family was represented by Rowland Fothergill, who followed in the track of the Scales, and is creditably supposed to have thriven in the same ratio as that family declines. One of the Scales, who had a tendency to be pungent with his pen in after years, described Rowland Fothergill as the squire of Hensol, who “looked as though he never could stoop with his scythe to mow.”

Mr. Rowland Fothergill was a personage of note in Aberdare in 1819. He was the uncle of Richard Fothergill, and when that worthy was in his erratic youth he came and grew up by the side of the stalwart old man, trained into the mysteries of iron-making, and, when in all the strength of his manhood he careered about the valley, well mounted, scorning high- ways and dashing about the mountains, few finer types of humanity could be a cavalier amongst the Puritans, one upon whom men looked with pleasure for his man hood and frankness, and upon whom the eyes of women fell with pleasing interest.

As time past changes crept in. Mr. Rowland Fothergill drifted away from forges and furnaces to the arcadian attractions of Hensol, and when he died in the fulness of years Richard, the nephew, reigned in his stead. He was now the owner of Abernant and Llwydcoed. Ironworks, collieries, and landed estates were his. Not only had he thousands of men at his command, but a splendid array of able men as managers, agents, etc., whose descendants we see to-day—all that is left of them—in honourable positions at the Docks or elsewhere; men who since won rank in the industrial world, and held it by unswerving integrity.

When Mr. Richard Fothergill had gained a position greater than that held by his uncle, there yet opened out a longer vista of distinction We find him aspiring to annex the ironworks of Mr. Anthony Hill, the last of the famous Plymouth Iron Company, who died in 1862. His death cleared the way to the ambitious ironmaster, suggesting greater and more successful rivalry to the Crawshays and Guests by his becoming as potent in the Merthyr Valley as in that of Aberdare. In connection with others, notably Mr. Hankey, a London banker, the Plymouth Ironworks and Collieries passed into his hands, and with remarkable industry he overlooked the workings of each ironworks and colliery.

In the zenith of his career as ironmaster he met with a sad family bereavement, and for a time he was overwhelmed, trying to find in religious consolation the anodyne. In time he rallied, and it was not very long before a vacancy in the representation of Merthyr Tydfil aroused in him the ambition to become to the iron and coal district what Sir John Guest had been. Keen student of man, it was not long before he gained his end, and, amid the cheers of hurraying men, the acclamations of “Fothergill age,” and the blaze of the magenta light won from the coal, he made his way to St. Stephen’s.

Friends and enemies gave him the credit of having been an active member of Parliament. He did not sit down, resting upon his laurels, but fought for all he was worth in advocacy of the virtues of the coal of Wales. Of course, many said that in doing so he also benefited himself. Be that as it may, he unquestionably did a good deal in the interest of steam coal, and was the means first of getting good Admiralty orders and, secondly, of making the beat steam coal of Wales more widely known.

While all intent upon coal, iron, Parliament, the commercial crash came which involved him in disaster, and the star which had arisen so brightly fell. It was a terrible calamnity to him and to the district. Many a man wished that Mr. G. Clark’s intention of carrying on Plymouth Works after the death of Mr. Anthony Hill had been accomplished, and deplored the acquisition by Mr. Fothergill. Fortunately, time and the merits of the famous Welsh coal brought about eventually some modification, though to this day old furnaces long disused at Plymouth and the wreck of Abernant and Llwydcoed are evidences of the greatest disaster to the iron industry Wales ever sustained. From that time and Mr. Fothergill’s retirement from Parliament his connection with his old district has been slight. Perhaps one of the best reminders of Mr. Richard Fothergill will be his successes at Abernant House. Here, with remarkable taste, he made the unsightly tips attractive, clothing eyesores with leaflage and foliage.

– Evening Express – 24 June 1903

The Dark Side of Convict Life – part 2

by Barrie Jones

Chapter II covers Henry’s account of his first encounter with the law and his imprisonment in October 1892, aged sixteen years. In fact, Henry’s life of crime had commenced from the age of thirteen years, and this was not his first experience of Swansea Gaol. Perhaps his long list of crimes had confused him or that this account made a better storyline. His old schoolmate Dai was David Davies, who would feature in more serious criminal escapades with Henry in the future.

The Dark Side of Convict Life (Being the Account of the Career of Harry Williams, a Merthyr Man). Merthyr Express, 5^th February 1910, page 9.

Chapter II

After the accident to my head at the Cwm Pit Colliery, for five months I was idle and dependent upon on the support of my father, who was fast approaching old age. There was no such thing as a Miners’ Federation at that time, but only an accident fund, and the widow of a man killed underground only received ten shillings per week, and not even then unless the collier contributed towards the fund. Of course, that had nothing at all to do with me, as I was employed by the miners and not by the company, and it was the miners’ duty to pay the accident fund for me, and to deduct it from my wages. I was too young to know this at the time, otherwise I could have claimed compensation; consequently, I received absolutely nothing.

I was not going to see my father working himself to death to support me any longer, so one day, still suffering from the effects of my injuries, I set out to seek employment. I wandered towards the South Pit Colliery, near Troedyrhiw, but I had not gone very far before I met an old schoolmate of mine, Dai ____. Now Dai was a bold fellow. Although a good-hearted chap, he cared not for anyone. He hailed me with “ullo Harry, where are you off to?” “I am going to look for a start at the South Pit,” says I. “Well, come along Harry,” say he, “I happen to be out of work too: let us try together for a place on the coal.” So we reached the pit just as the manager was coming up, and we applied for a job, but no luck, for the place was full up.

Then Dai turned to me, saying, “What do you say, Harry, in doing a bit of crook?” (for Dai ____ had already made a great rent in his character). “Are you game?” says he, “game enough,” says I. So in returning towards Merthyr, we wandered towards the Field Pit Colliery, and once again we applied there for work, but the same as usual, it was full up. Then Dai says, “Let us go around to have a warm by the boilers,” for it was rather cold at the time. On going round, we passed the back of the miners’ lamp-room, when we happened to notice that a part of the zinc roof had been torn away and some of the lamps upon the shelves were visible. We put our hands in and made the shelves lighter by half-a-dozen, and with the aid of a file we managed to rub out the letters “P C” (which meant Plymouth Company), and which came off the oil pots in filings of brass. We then took them to several pawnbrokers, where we pledged them at half-a-crown and three and sixpence apiece. After enjoying ourselves with the reapings we returned to the lamp-room for some more; but just as Dai was drawing forth another lamp, out sprang a policeman and pounced upon him. Well, you know the rest. To make it brief, we were both brought before the “beaks,” and finally escorted to Swansea Gaol for one month.

On our arrival at the prison, after answering several questions to the chief turnkey, we were taken below to a place called the reception room, where a sturdy warder eyed me from head to foot, remarking, “You are starting rather young nipper.” Turning to Dai, he said, “You have brought a fresh mate with you this time, Dai. “We are quite innocent,” replied Dai, “Yes, you look innocent,” replied the turnkey, “if the kid doesn’t” (what would he say if he saw the kid now?). Then he proceeded to weigh me and take my measurement, and after fitting me, or trying to fit me with a dirty suit of khaki large enough for a man, he locked me in a cell. After making an examination of my surroundings, I broke down and cried, until I made the place quite damp with my tears. My thoughts were of “Home, Sweet Home.”

I was not long engaged in pumping water from my system before the turnkey came and unlocked the cell door, holding in his hand half a tin of skilly, which he called porridge, and eight-ounce dark brown toke (loaf). “Here you are,” says he, “let your tears drop into this, and you will fill the tin.” “I cannot eat it sir,” says I. “Oh, you will eat it,” says he, “before you have done your month,” and he was right too, for before I had been in goal a week, I was looking for more to eat. I happened to leave one of my small loaves on my self one day, when I was on the treadmill, but when I came in it had gone. When the turnkey brought me three pounds of oakum to pick, I asked him where my bread had gone to. Throwing down the oakum, he replied, “I suppose one of the birds has picked it.” Getting a bit bolder, and my tears being a thing of the past, I turned sharply upon him, and said, “The birds have picked it, have they? Then the birds can pick this oakum,” and I kicked it flying out of the cell. He then brought me before the Asinorum (governor), and the functionary awarded me three days bread and water. Thus the turnkey was beginning to know me, and he cooled down wonderfully well. The day of my discharge came round, and I was let out into the wide world again to fight another battle with the world, the flesh, and the devil.

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.

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.

Troedyrhiw Farm. Photo courtesy of the Alan George Archive

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.

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.

Charles Herbert James *(1817-1890), M.P. for Merthyr between 1880 and 1888*

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…..