Hidden in plain sight

I’ve had an exciting day. A day that has involved two of my favourite activities: poking around in the countryside and sleuthing on the internet. And I have been rewarded by some remarkable discoveries. [Be warned, this will be a very long write-up and I won’t be offended if you don’t have time or inclination to read it.]

An improvement in the weather (more sunshine, less wind) drew me out to ramble around the maze of old lanes and trackways in the Clydach valley a mile or two east of Newport/Trefdraeth. 200 years ago the area was scattered with the tiny cottages and smallholdings of the rural poor who lived out mean lives as labourers and tenants, barely subsisting from one year to the next and constantly prey to economic downturns, bad weather and endemic diseases.

Nowadays the valley is inhabited by people referred to by the locals as ‘rich hippies’. They have transformed the old farms and cottages into eco-friendly dwellings, using their considerable expertise in self-sufficiency, sustainable building techniques, organic gardening and home schooling to create a loose-knit network of like-minded people who add a great deal of colour and energy to the community (even if they push the property values up to astronomical heights.)
A few old places have escaped revival and this is one. Its name has dropped off the map but at this time of the year the ruins of a two-storey cottage are still visible below the path. Today I was delighted to notice that, while any human inhabitants have long departed,  signs of life (and death)  remain. Snowdrops continue to bloom and multiply in drifts around the fallen stones, primroses and daffodils emerge among the prickly straggles of old gooseberry bushes.  Wood ears, scarlet elf cups and dead men’s fingers beckoned to me from the mossy limbs of fallen trees. A squirrel skittered out of the ruins and leapt over the stream. Among dead leaves the skeleton of (another) fox mouldered.

I completed my walk via a circular route that led me back to Newport beneath the craggy silhouette of Carn Ingli mountain. Back at home I thought I’d try and find the name of the ruined cottage and I was quickly able to identify it from old maps as Parcau, which simply means 'Fields' in Pembrokeshire Welsh. Then I was surprised to discover that 30 years ago this ruin and a few others in the vicinity had been partially excavated by a team of archaeologists who were looking at broken pottery as a way to throw light upon social history. They described Parcau as a ty singl, a two-story cottage with rooms arranged in a row,  in contrast the older building style of ty dau ben, a single-storey longhouse  with  people at one end, animals at the other.

The report notes that the pottery fragments at Parcau date from the late 18th century onwards. It suggests that the preponderance of  19th century cups, saucers and plates  represented a move away from the traditional vessel - a bowl for eating soup or stew  (cawl)- in favour of higher-status, mass-produced crockery guaranteed to impress the neighbours when displayed on a dresser. But the change also reflected the dilution of Welsh identity  as industrialisation transformed the traditional pattern of life on the land and heralded a backlash against the Welsh language which was regarded as a handicap for those who wanted to be part of the modern (British) world. Rural depopulation was hastened by the lure of more remunerative work in the South Wales valleys where speaking English was an advantage.

(As an aside, it seems that the most frequently-found potsherds were from the dinnerware range known as Asiatic pheasants, the most popular pattern of the Victorian era:
With the Industrial age now dawned ordinary people gained access to what had been the preserve of the wealthy and what they wanted was a pattern that was clean light and above all affordable. "Asiatic Pheasants" took pride of place on the kitchen dresser, the cleanness and lightness of the pattern setting off the oak and mahogany and covering the rude pine boarding of the rack.)

All this was fascinating enough but when I googled ‘Parcau Newport Pembs.’ something else astonishing came up. It appears that in 1803 the cottage was the birthplace of one Joseph Hughes who merits an entry in the Welsh DNB.  Despite his humble origins he got a grammar school education and went to college, was ordained a priest and eventually became Perpetual Curate of Meltham in Yorkshire. Like many Welsh clerics at the time he championed the literary culture of Wales. He adopted the Bardic name Carn Ingli, the brooding presence above his native turf. After moving to England John Hughes returned to Wales each year to take a leading part in a major eisteddfod (soon to become an annual national event). In 1858 he was embroiled a something of a scandal. The eisteddfod that year took place in Llangollen and was largely organised by Hughes and a couple of other clerical bards. The main essay prize was to be awarded to the best contribution on the subject of Prince Madoc’s ‘discovery’ of America in the 12th century (an apocryphal story that still has its adherents.) There were six contenders but five of the essays were judged inadequate to qualify. The remaining essay was masterly but it took the opposing position - that Madoc never did discover America. Hughes threw it out!

This essay I understand is a very clever one. But in my opinion it is not entitled to the prize, be its merits ever so great. The subject is "The Discovery of America in the 12thC .by Prince Madog ap Owain Gwynedd.” Now if a person writes an essay on the non-discovery of America by Madog - he writes on a different subject altogether.

In fact the essay was by a highly respected historian and the outcry against Hughes' decision was immense and immediate.  The band was quickly called upon to drown the protest with loud music.

Joseph Hughes died in Yorkshire in 1863 and is buried there, far from this, his modest birthplace in the shadow of his namesake Carn Ingli. The fortunes of  Cwm Clydach residents  wax and wane but the snowdrops go on for ever, along with the squirrels, the fungi and the stream.

North Pembs historical archaeology project


Joseph Hughes

1858 Llangollen eisteddfod