Appeared to pass by where the bird had its station. Toiled
up an acclivity and when on the top stood still and looked around
me. There was a glow on all sides in the heaven, except in the
north-east quarter. Striding on I saw a cottage on my left hand,
and standing at the door the figure of a woman. "How far to
Merthyr?" said I in Welsh.
"Tair milltir - three miles, sir."
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 for 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 heard 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 Tydvil.
CHAPTER CIV
Iron and Coal - The Martyred Princess - Cyfartha Fawr - Diabolical
Structure.
MERTHYR TYDVIL 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 the iron and coal.
It bears the name of Merthyr Tydvil, which signifies the Martyr
Tydvil, because in the old time a Christian British princess was
slain in the locality which it occupies. Tydvil was the daughter
of Brychan, Prince of Brecon, surnamed Brycheiniawg, or the
Breconian, who flourished in the fifth century and was a
contemporary of Hengist. He was a man full of Christian zeal, and
a great preacher of the Gospel, and gave his children, of which he
had many, both male and female, by various wives, an education
which he hoped would not only make them Christians, but enable them
to preach the Gospel to their countrymen. They proved themselves
worthy of his care, all of them without one exception becoming
exemplary Christians, and useful preachers. In his latter days he
retired to a hermitage in Glamorganshire near the Taf, and passed
his time in devotion, receiving occasionally visits from his
children. Once, when he and several of them, amongst whom was
Tydvil, were engaged in prayer, a band of heathen Saxons rushed in
upon them and slew Tydvil with three of her brothers. Ever since
that time the place has borne the name of Martyr Tydvil. (21)
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 not navigable on account of its
numerous shallows. The only service which it renders to commerce
is feeding a canal which extends from Merthyr to Cardiff. It is
surprising how similar many of the Welsh rivers are in name: Taf,
Tawey, Towey, Teivi, and Duffy differ but very little in sound.
Taf and Teivi have both the same meaning, namely a tendency to
spread out. The other names, though probably expressive of the
properties or peculiarities of the streams to which they
respectively belong, I know not how to translate.
The morning of the fourteenth was very fine. After breakfast I
went to see the Cyfartha 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
attended by an intelligent mechanic. What shall I say about the
Cyfartha 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 round 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 any one of them is as
good as the bond of other people.
After seeing the Cyfartha 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
dark heap of cinders.
