Tag: Tydfil’s Well

The Castle Inn (Tavern Twll), Caepantywyll – part 1

by Barrie Jones

Caepantywyll lies north of Jackson’s Bridge, occupying a narrow strip of river terrace sandwiched between the river Taff to the west and the rising high ground of the Grawen and Tydfil’s Well to the east. Once a field belonging to Gwaelod-y-garth farm; “the field of the dark hollow”, now, the area has a scattering of modern residential properties. It is difficult to imagine that fifty years ago this was a thriving community of terraced houses, chapel, shops and public houses.

The only building that survived the slum clearance programme of the early 1980s was the Castle Inn. This imposing building is situated at the bottom of what was Gate Street, now a steep lane that rises up to the Grawen.  By the time of the area’s clearance the inn was a doss house lodging such old characters as Old Phil and Bill Baldy. Later the building was converted into a five bedroom house, whilst retaining the original façade and pub name. The building’s renovation rescued it from inevitable deterioration over the passing years and its likely demolition.

However, many may not know that this building stands on the site of a smaller and less imposing public house, numbers 1 & 2 Gate Street, also named the Castle Inn, but known in the locality as the “Tavern Twll”.

The “Tavern Twll” came late to Caepantywyll, the 1861 census shows that number 2 Gate Street was an ordinary residence occupied by Elizabeth Evans, a widow aged seventy two years old and describing herself as a housekeeper. Sometime after, a new occupier Thomas Morgan had renamed the property as the Castle. In the 1871 census he is described as an engine fitter and publican, indicating the part time nature of this new occupation and how small the public house was, a typical cwrw bach or pot house. By March 1880 Elizabeth Bowen had taken over the tenancy after obtaining a transfer of the licence to sell alcohol. As a widow, aged fifty two years, and with six children, this must have been a much needed source of income for her family.

In the next decade the property had been extended by incorporating number 1 Gate Street whilst retaining the name “the Castle”. Also, a new landlord, John Lewis who previously lived at number 13 Gate Street had acquired the tenancy which, he and his family were to hold for the next three decades. Mrs Bowen the previous licensee had moved up the hill to number 11 Gate Street.

John Lewis died on the 17th June 1895 and was buried at Cefn Coed Cemetery. At that time sixty four years old may be considered a good age for an innkeeper to live.  Especially, considering that before becoming the licensee of the Castle Inn, he had led the harsher and harder working life of an iron puddler.

To be continued…….

The Decline of Merthyr

In 1859, the Penydarren Ironworks closed. 160 years ago today (26 February 1859), the remarkable article transcribed below, written in anticipation of the closure appeared in the Merthyr Telegraph. It makes fascinating reading as the language used is so striking and almost poetic…a far cry from today’s brand of journalism.

Over the thresholds of a thousand houses stream the long and darkening shadows which forerun events of a stern and saddening character. In a few months that fierce light which so long has glared around Penydarren will be invisible, and the incessant clang of iron and harsh vibrations of monster machinery will no longer be heard. Penydarren works will belong to the past.

For several weeks the inhabitants of this town and neighbourhood heard of the rumoured sale of Penydarren works with incredulity. They could not believe that so great an establishment would be broken up, the works fall into decay, and the men scattered to the four winds of heaven. Yet, at last, the dread truth has forced itself upon our convictions, and we now doubt not that the end of Penydarren is at hand.

The Dowlais Iron Co., holding large works on the extreme edge of the mineral basin, have been for some time progressing with less than its usual vigour in consequence of a deficient supply of mine and coal. It is true new pits have been sunk at Cwmbargoed, but it will be two or three years before they will begin to yield, the enormous depth forbidding any earlier success, though the men are incessantly employed. Thus it became a serious consideration with the Trustees, where, and by what means, the requisite supply should be obtained from to meet the demand. The adjoining mine and coal field of the Penydarren Co. and the known desire of Mr. W. Forman to part with it, offered a solution of the difficulty, and hence, after a consultation and discussion by the principals of each place, one has been merged into the other, and Dowlais has become worthier even than before of being styled the largest iron-works in the world.

We may anticipate that on the opening of the new mill – a mill unequalled in the locality, a large number of additional workmen will be employed; the miners and colliers also may be expected to continue working as usual; but, we apprehend, there will still be many unemployed, and the change will tend to deteriorate the value of house property considerably in Penydarren, and the upper part of Merthyr, from Pontmorlais to Tydfil’s Well. There can be no doubt but that there will be much suffering in one way or another. Young men, full of vigour, may try their fortunes elsewhere broad shoulders and muscular arms will never fail to obtain their owners bread and cheese, but the old men, the semi-pensioners, the half used up veterans, cannot be expected to seek a subsistence in other districts, cannot be expected but to crawl, feeble worn-out beings, into the last resort of humble life – the Workhouse.

In addition to this, the first step towards a decline, we see evidences around us of a gloomy character. The lease of the Dowlais works is said to last only during the minority of the Marquis of Bute. When he comes of age a new lease, under new and perhaps impossible conditions, may be required.

It is also rumoured, on what authority we know not, that the Plymouth iron-works are for sale, and no one, acquainted with Mr. Hill, will hear this without fearing that the change of ownership, by whomsoever made, cannot be for the benefit of the workmen. No matter how good the next employer may be, new brooms have a tendency to sweep clean, and brush away old and good usages, pensions, perquisites and benefits to an alarming extent.

Again, at the Cyfarthfa works things wear an alarming aspect. The lease is yet unsettled. Mr. Crawshay has stated the sum he will give, and we all know that he will abide by his word, and blow out the whole of the furnaces rather than yield. And let us add that were Mr. Crawshay, unfortunately for us all, to be succeeded by another, we might find the system of iron-making on the hills introduced into Cyfarthfa, with its attendant Truck shops, which, God forbid for the sake of poor humanity! To this Truck the Crawshays have ever been firm opponents, much to their honour and the welfare of the town.

All these shadows warn us to be prepared for coming evils – to be on the alert towards lessening the trials of disastrous times – to prepare our several homes against the menacing storm.

Merthyr is a town called into existence by the discovery of the minerals underneath. With their exhaustion it fades as rapidly as it rose.

In these facts we trace the presages of decline. The tree which resists the skill of the gardener may exist for a time, unimproving, unprogressive, but when the storm comes the resistance is but weak, and beneath the tempest it falls!