Turning
round a corner at the top of a hill I saw blazes here and there and what
appeared to be a glowing mountain in the south-east. I went towards it down
a descent which continued a long, long way; so great was the light cast
by the blazes and that wonderful glowing object that I could distinctly
see the little stones upon the road. After walking about half an hour, always
going downwards, I saw a house on my left hand and heared a noise of water
opposite to it. It was a pistyll. I went to it, drank greedily, and
then hurried on, more and more blazes and the glowing object looking more
terrible than ever. It was now above me at some distance to the left, and
I could see that it was an immense quantity of heated matter like lava,
occupying the upper and middle parts of a hill and descending here and there
almost to the bottom in a zigzag and tortuous manner. Between me and the
hill of the burning object lay a deep ravine. After a time I came to a house,
against the door of which a man was leaning."What is all that burning
stuff above, my friend?"
"Dross from the iron forges, sir!"I now perceived a valley below
me full of lights, and descending, reached houses and a tramway. I had blazes
now all around me. I went through a filthy slough, over a bridge, and up
a street, from which dirty lanes branched off on either side, passed throngs
of savage looking people talking clamorously, shrank from addressing any
of them, and finally undirected found myself before the Castle Inn at Merthyr
Tydfil.Merthyr Tydfil is situated in a broad valley through which roll the
waters of the Taf. It was till late an inconsiderable village, but is at
present the greatest mining place in Britain, and may be called with much
propriety the capital of iron and coal......The Taf, which runs to the south
of Merthyr, comes down from Breconshire, and enters the Bristol Channel
at Cardiff, a place the name of which in English is the city on the Taf.
It is one of the most beautiful of rivers, but is navigable on account of
its numerous shallow. The only service which it renders to commerce is feeding
a canal which extends from Merthyr to Cardiff........................The
morning of the fourteenth was very fine. After breakfast I went to see the
Cyfarthfa Fawr iron-works, generally considered to be the great wonder of
the place. After some slight demur I obtained permission from the superintendent
to inspect them. I was attented by an intelligent mechanic. What shall I
say about the Cyfarthfa Fawr? I had best say but very little. I saw enormous
furnaces. I saw streams of molten metal. I saw a long ductile piece of red-hot
iron being operated upon. I saw millions of sparks flying about. I saw an
immense wheel impelled with frightful velocity by a steam engine of two
hundred and forty horse power. I heard all kinds of dreadful sounds. The
general effect was stunning. These works belong to the Crawshays, a family
distinguished by a strange kind of eccentricity, but also by genius and
enterprising spirit, and by such a strict feeling of honour that it is a
common saying that the word of one of them ia as good as the bond of other
people.After seeing the Cyfarthfa, I roamed about making general observations.
The mountain of dross which had startled me on the preceding night with
its terrific glare, and which stands to the north-west of the town, looked
now nothing more than an immense heap of cinders. It is only when the shades
of night have settled down that the fire within manifests itself, making
the hill appear an immense glowing mass. All the hills around the town,
some of which are very high, have a scorched and blackened look. An old
Anglesea bard, rather given to bombast, wishing to extol the abundant cheer
of his native isle, said: "The hills of Ireland are blackened by the
smoke from the kitchens of Mona." With much more propriety might a
bard on the banks of the Taf who should wish to apologise for the rather
smutty appearance of his native vale exclaim: " The hills around the
Taf, once so green, are blackened by the smoke from the chimneys of Merthyr."
The town is large and populous. The inhabitants for the most part are Welsh,
and Welsh is the language generally spoken, though all have some knowledge
of English. The houses are in general low and mean, and built of rough grey
stones. Merthyr, however, can show several remakable edifices, though of
a gloomy, horrid, Satanic character. There is the hall of the iron, with
its arches, from which proceeds incessantly a thundering noise of hammers.
Then there is an edifice at the foot of a mountain, half way up the side
of which is a blasted forest, and on top an enormous crag. A truly wonderful
edifice it is, such as Bos would have imagined had he wanted to paint the
palace of Satan. There it stands; a house of reddish brick with a slate
roof-four horrid black towers behind, two of them belching firth smoke and
flame from their tops-holes like pigeon holes here and there-two immense
chimneys standing by themselves. What edifice can that be of such strange,
mad details? I ought to have put that question to someone in Merthyr Tydfil,
but did not, though I stood staring at the diabolical structure with my
mouth open. It is no good putting the question to myself here.After strolling
about for some two hours with my hands in my pockets, I returned to my inn,
called for a glass of ale, paid my reckoning, flung my satchel over my shoulder
and departed. |