Monthly Archives: September 2019

Cwmcerwyn, Mynachlogddu

Spelling variants: Coomkerwyn, Cwm Carun, Cwmcerwn, Cwm Cerwyn, Cwmcerwn, Kombe Kerwn, Komberwin

Approximate English translations: Tub/Tun Valley

Ruins at Cwmcerwyn, September 2019. Foel Cwmcerwyn is just to the left of the tree.

I’ve written a bit about Cwmcerwyn before in relation to the painted rock that was the catalyst for this project. Cwmcerwyn was a prominent farmhouse on the eastern slopes of Pembrokeshire’s highest peak; often called Preseli Top in the past, nowadays always called Foel Cwmcerwyn. The word “foel” is mutated from “moel” meaning “bald” but is also a common word in these parts for a bare or treeless summit (see also: Foel Drygarn, Foel Feddau, Foel Dyrch). Cerwyn has numerous related meanings, and while George Owen commented that the presence of many whiskey-distilling Irish folk in the valley in the late 16th century might have rendered the meaning of “cerwyn” as a whiskey-still appropriate, it seems likelier that the bowl- or tub-like shape of the valley was the inspiration for its name; though whether the valley or the farmhouse had the name first, we will likely never know.

Cwmcerwyn on the 1819 OS map on the east bank of Afon Wern, south of Foel Fedw (Feddau). Trefrap (right) survives as Cwm Garw.

This house has more history (at least more available history) than most in the area. There follows some detail from a book I took notes from in the county library. I was too stupid to take down the name of the book, but it was something like “Old Houses of Pembrokeshire”, and listed them by parish; in Mynachlogddu were Cwmcerwyn, Dyffryn Ffilbro, Pentre/Pant Ithel and Dol[a]emaen. Clynsaithman (Glynsaithmaen), Cwmcerwyn’s neighbour across Afon Wern in Llangolman parish, was also listed. I’ll note the name and author next time I’m in Haverfordwest.

Cwmcerwyn, was, according to the book, “Marked on Rees’s 14th century map” of the area, and mentioned in deeds of 1344 in relation to its ownership by St Dogmael’s Abbey. It was leased to David ap Rhys ap Owen on 12 October 1535, and later (along with most of the land in the area) assigned to John Bradshaw and his heirs “at an annual rent of 10 shillings”. Toward the end of the 17th century, the farmhouse becomes the home of Griffith Morris, “gentleman” son of Griffith Morris of Clynsaethmaen. He was “a baptist and a member of Rhydwilym chapel” located some way away, just outside the southern border of Llangolman parish. (It would be a while yet before Bethel chapel was built in Mynachlogddu). In 1693 Griffith, son of Griffith, married Elizabeth, daughter of Griffith Howel of Rushacre, Narberth. After this, they went to live in Cwmcerwyn. He died between 1732 and 1734. His son (of the same name) livd at “Cwmkerwyn Isha”. No house of this name survived to the 19th century records I’ve read; but perhaps it was an earlier name for one of the other houses in the valley: Cwmgarw, Bwlch Giten, Waun Clun Coch, Iethen or Tynewydd.

Cwmcerwyn in 1844.

In 1786 “James Bowen Esq” owned “Cwm Carun” with one John Griffith as his tenant. On 5 April 1817, Daniel Owen of Cwmcerwyn was baptized, and on 30 January 1833 he was ordained Baptist minister of Pope Hill, South of Haverfordwest. Cwmcerwyn later became part of the Cwmgloyn estate (I don’t know the exact dates for this period). In 1909 it was described as a farm of 296 acres, rented by Morris Thomas, and was up for sale.

The above skips forward beyond where my non-cartographical records normally begin (i.e. 1841, with the first census), so I’ll now rewind back to that first rich snapshot of life in the northwest corner of Mynachlogddu parish. In 1841, James Llwelin, 40, was farming at “Cwmcerwn” with his wife Mary, 40, daughters Ann (16) Elizabeth (8) and Sara (4), and sons John (14) Thomas (12) and William (1). James was not there ten years later, however. In 1844 (at the time of the tithe maps) he was listed as the occupier of the land, with Morris Morris, Griffith Morris and Morris
Williams as joint owners. The account in ‘O’r Witwg i’r Wern’ mentions an eldest son called Charles, a sailor, who died in 1843 at 21 years old and was buried in the grounds of Capel Bethel.

But James Llewhellin (spelled slightly differently from the above) wrote his last will and testament on 22 May, 1848, aged 47:

“…to my beloved wife Mary Llewhellin [I give] all that I do now possess as long as she do continue a widow, but should she again marry, my aforesaid is to give to each of my seven children the sum of twelve pounds on or before her second marriage. … my wife and my son Thomas Llewhellin to be joint executors.”

The witnesses to this were David Thomas of Llangolman and Daniel Phillip of (the neighbouring farmhouse) Cwmgarw. James Llewhellin died later that year. In 1849, Anne Llewhellyn married either a John Thomas or a Thomas Jones – but can’t be traced in the region thereafter.

One of many ash trees now growing on the site.

By 1851 Mary Llewhellin (born in Camrose, we learn) is “widow”, “farmer” and “head” of the house at Cwmcerwyn. Her remaining children are John (23), Thomas (21) and Elizabeth (16), all born in “Notton” (probably Nolton?); Sarah (13), born in Roch; William (11), born in Henry’s Moat (they gradually seen to be getting nearer!) and finally Frances (8), born in “Monachlogddu”. There’s also a William Owen, 15 living with them; a “farm servant” originally from Llanglydwen.

It’s noted in ‘O’r Witwg i’r Wern’ that English was probably the “language of the hearth” for the Llewellyns, as evidenced by James having been made a church warden within two years of moving to Cwmcerwyn. The majority of mostly Welsh-speaking Mynachlogddu had by now swapped the Anglican St Dogmael’s church for the “ty-cwrdd” Baptist meeting house at Bethel. The family were also, unusually for the time and place, literate, being able to sign their names on marriage certificates.

By 1861 Elizabeth is gone, and, if married, untraceable in the wider area (to 10 miles). Mary is a (still-not-remarried) farmer of 220 acres, employing two boys. Sarah, William and Frances are still living at Cwmcerwyn too, and three servants are also listed: John Edward (19, from Mynachlogddu), Dan Evans (16, from Henry’s Moat) and Anne Jones (a “house maid”, 14, from Morvil).

Mary and James’s eldest son, John Llewhellyn (now 33), is a farmer of 33 acres at Plasdwbl (Mynachlogddu), employing one labourer and one boy, and he’s married to Sarah (27, from Llangolman) and also providing a roof for Caleb Edwards of Llanglydwen, one of his servants, who is listed as a “cartman”. Their next eldest son Thomas (32) is a little (but not much) farther afield at Pengraig in Cilymaenllwyd, Carmarthenshire. He’s a farmer of 80 acres, married to Mary (37, from Mynachlogddu) with three children, Anne (7), Rachel (4) and James (2, named after his grandfather?), and a “stepson”, presumably Mary’s child, John Davis (10). They have two male servants, Caleb Edward (21) and Daniel Thomas (14), and one dairy maid, Sarah Jinkins (18). John Davis was born in Mynachlogddu, so one would suppose his place and situation of birth might be easily traceable on the previous census; but one would suppose wrong, in this case, it turns out. There’s a Mary David (30) at “Blue Page”* in Mynachlogddu, who is married, but whose husband isn’t in the house; indeed, she’s living with her mother-in-law and three of the latter’s grandchildren (presumably but not necessarily these are her children). But (in addition to the 2-3 year discrepancy in her age, which does sometimes happen in censuses) this Mary was born in Llangolman, whereas Thomas’s wife Mary is listed as born in Mynachlogddu.

A barn or a secondary domestic building at Cwmcerwyn?

By 1871, William (31) is head of the house at Cwmcerwyn. His mother (now 70) is still there, and never took another husband. Perhaps her late husband’s stipulation as to the massive payout to the children was enough to put her off; or perhaps she never met another suitable man. Either way, at first glance that legal stipulation might have seemed to be made in order to dissuade her from remarrying, but it’s as likely (perhaps much more likely) to have been made to dissuade a man of no means from marrying Mary for her money, and leaving the children with no inheritence. So, anyway: William, the third eldest son, becomes the new farmer at the house. His wife Mariah (of Meline parish) is 24, and they already have three sons: James (3, named after his grandfather), Evan (2), and John (1), and according to an account by one of their descendents in the local history book ‘O’r Witwg i’r Wern’, they were to have ten. There are also two servants living with them: David Bowen (18), and John Williams (16).

Sarah Llewhellin has, I think, married John John of “Lanisaf” (or Llainisaf?) in the same parish, and become Sarah John. If this is indeed her, she has two children: Thomas (1), and William (0). Frances (now 28) seems to have become Frances Morgans of Llanllogin Llanycefn. If this is indeed her (and the birthplaces match up), she has married Edward Morgans (25, farmer and butcher), and has three children: Margaret (4), Mary (1), and James Llewelyn (5); the latter presumably arrived before she met (or married?) her new husband. He is listed as “son” to the “head”, but whatever his origin, he is the third known namesake of James Llewhelyn among his grandchildren.

Cwmcerwyn and its neighbours in 1888.

By 1881 William (now 41) is a farmer of 280 acres. Mariah, his wife, has by now birthed five more children: Mary (9), Thomas (7), Catherine (5), William (3) and Benjamin (1). James (13) and John (11) are still there too. Evan is not, and neither is William’s mother; the latter at least we can be pretty sure is now dead. In addition to the eight resident family members, there are two farm servants (“indoor”): David Davies (26) and Job Owen (17); and two “general” servants: Mary and Sarah Davies, both 16.

The 1891 census returns Evan to the household (maybe he was in a cupboard last time, or something). The other present children are Catherine (15), William (13), Thomas (12), Benjamin (11), Ann (9) and David Devonald (2). Sarah Griffiths (18) is the sole resident servant. James Llewellyn (now 23) has set himself up as a farmer at Portispant in Llangolman (with just one dairy maid, Mary Griffiths), and his younger brother John is at Wernddu in Meline, with a wife (Mary, 24), a baby daughter called Mary L, two servants (David Nicholas, 18, and Margaretta Thomas, 15) and a nurse, Mary Havard, 53.

Yvonne Evans, a descendant of the Llewellyns writing in ‘O’r Witwg i’r Wern’, informs us that William and Mariah moved to Newton near Rudbaxton (central Pembrokeshire) in 1894. And that (quoting the English translation!) “their eldest son, James, emigrated to the United States … [and] Evan went to Australia.” Other children of theirs went to America (and returned), moved to Northampton, moved to Trefdraeth (Newport, Pembs). This was at the time when the Parish was no longer able to sustain the number of inhabitants it had swelled to; and it has never reach the heights of population it enjoyed (or suffered) then to the present day.

Cwmcerwyn: a few little squares on the OS map.

In 1901, another Mynachlogddu family has moved in: David Harries (possibly originally from Capelbach, by Cwmgarw) is now the head of Cwmcerwyn, alongside his wife Anne. They have three children: Daniel (5), Lizzie (2), Morris (5 months), and a servant (16) called William Phillips. By the last (currently available) census in 1911, The Harrieses are still resident, with their three children and two new ones: Martha Ann (8), and William Albert (5). Since siblings Martha and Albert are said by Yvonne to have been the farmhouse’s final residents in the 1930s, I assume these were the latter two.

Cwmcerwyn is rare, among these lost houses, in having had only two families resident in the period of increased and freely available historical resources. (I.e. 1841-1911.) It is rarer still in having records (scant, but records nonetheless) that go back at least half a century beyond this. Had it survived to the modern day it would be a listed building; but as it is, it’s a ruin.

It’s a home for trees now.

Cwmcerwyn is not on a public footpath. When I asked for permission from the farmers who now own the land to visit the ruins, they told me (having said I could go up there) “there’s nothing there now though”. Had they known that I’d recently visited the “remains” of Clawdd Ddu and Llech, they’d have been able to appreciate that the ruins of Cwmcerwyn would be alike to Machu Picchu in my eyes! Not only are the firm footings of several buildings still visible among the mature trees and scattered farm equipment, but the atmosphere of the place remains distinctly homely: the lane, which crosses over several fords, scattered on either side with fallen megaliths; the half-collapsed footbridge over Afon Wern; the stone walls, the nuggets of quartz; the patchwork of surrounding fields, carved out of the gorse and heather on the marshy, sloping mountainside; and the majestic presence of Foel Cwmcerwyn and Foel Feddau towering over it all. It’s a place of great beauty, and no small amount of sadness for those who still have a fondness for witnessing humankind’s often sympathetic historical relationship with the natural world.

There’s a poem in ‘O’r Witwg i’r Wern’, written by Martha Harries, one of the last residents of Cwmcerwyn. I won’t reproduce the whole thing here, for fear of playing fast and loose with copyright; but the last stanza speaks of both the uniquely tragic fate of Cwmcerwyn, and, in the final line at least, the sadness that is common to all of these lost homes:

“Awyrenna gyda’u bomiau,
Milwyr hefyd gyda hwy,
Amser rhyfel a’r ymarfer,
Nid yw’r cartref yno mwy.”

from ‘Cwm Cerwyn’ by Martha Ann Harries

Rough “poetic” (as opposed to literal) translation:

Bombers flew in with explosives,
A time of manoeuvres, and war,
And soldiers following orders,
Now no home’s there anymore.

A Velky, around midnight on the first morning of October 2019.

A photograph of the farmhouse before it was bombed by Allied planes in World War Two.

* Blue Page, like the similarly named Orange Page, is a sometimes-mentioned but as-yet-not-identified Mynachlogddu mystery cottage, whose whereabouts I hope to get on to at a later date in this project. One or the other I suppose to have been an alternative name for “Gors Fach” on the common.

Iet-Y-Llech, Llech, Llechisaf, & Byhwp, Mynachlogddu

Spelling variants: Ietllech / Iet Llech / Yetllech / Yet Llech; Llech Isaf / Llechisaf / Llech Isha / Llechisha; By Hwp / By Hoop / Byhoop

Approximate English translations: Gate-[to]-the-Cromlech, Cromlech, Lower Cromlech, [I have no idea whatsoever].

Llech y Gwyddon: Mynachlogddu’s only Cromlech, I think. Collapsed beneath a fence.

“Llech” literally means “slate”, but can also in certain contexts denote a slab of stone or a boulder. In these house names it can be safely assumed to refer in shorthand to the adjacent cromlech, Llech-Y-Gwyddon. Let’s divert briefly into etymology.

Llech circled(?) on the 1818 OS map. “Lleth[e]r” is, confusingly the farm to the immediate left.

“Llech” forms the latter part of the word “crom[-]lech” which word dates back at the very least to the 1500s and is the common Welsh word for a megalithic chambered tomb with a capstone; “crom” meaning bowed or arched. In English, “cromlech” was the go-to word in past centuries, but nowadays “dolmen” is perhaps more frequently used. Dolmen is thought to be from Breton (the “dol part” denoting a table or a flat board); but etymologists like to argue about this, and the Irish “dolmain” is also very close. Either way, the “men” or “main” part of the word must surely mean “stone” and is also present in the words menhir/maenhir, meaning “longstone” (literally, “stonelong” due to grammatical differences between Welsh and English). Compare also the name of the ancient Mynachlogddu farmhouse “Dolaumaen” which means “stone meadows” or “meadows of stone” and supposedly refers to a pair of standing stones on its land; this could as easily once have been “dolmaen” and referred to the cromlech itself, or (since it’s a bit far, and the known cromlech is closer to the ancient farm of Blaencleddau) perhaps it referred to another cromlech which is no longer there.

There are various traditions relating to cromlechs in the region, and they tend to be common across other regions where similar monuments are found. Often, they are said to be lairs or tombs for fearsome or magical creatures: wolves, hounds, witches, ogres, giantesses, heroes, or devils. The “Llech” that appears in the names of two (or possibly three) historical cottages just beyond Waun Cleddau in northeast Mynachlogddu is derived from the nearby (collapsed) burial chamber whose earliest known name is Llech y Gwyddon. A “gwyddon” can be a number of things, but is most likely an ogress or a witch: some mythical or supernatural female. As a side-note, there’s a Llech y Drybedd near Moylgrove, which is an intact three-legged Cromlech, and there’s a Llech y Lladron (robbers’ rock) in Brecon. Better cultural comparisons for this might be the “Tomba dei Giganti” of Sardinia, or the nearby Gwal-y-Filiast, meaning “Lair of the greyhound bitch”.

This modern OS map shows Llech-Y-Gwyddon (the yellow spot) as well as the likely sites of Iet-Y-Llech (north circle) and Llech (south). Llechisaf might have been on the eastern side of the bridleway, opposite Iet-Y-Llech? Note three additional old homesteads on Waun Cleddau. These were, from left to right, Pwll-Y-Crychydd (Heron’s Pool), Pant-Y-Glocsen (Clog Hollow) and Pantau Duon (Black Hollows).

While today Mynachlogddu’s sole known cromlech invites little attention, for centuries past it would have been an important landmark, as well as a focal point for stories and superstitions. The 1888 OS map indicates that Iet-Y-Llech was situated on the opposite side of the field to the ruined cromlech, so we can deduce (or, frankly, guess) that “Llech” was on the plot to the south. The 1819 map suggests that Llech predated Iet, and this would explain the name of the latter. While “Iet” can sometimes denote a toll-gate, in this case it may well have simply meant that the newer of the two houses was situated precisely by the gate to the field where the cromlech lay. The sole 1841 census entry for a house called “Llech Isha” (Lower Llech) complicates matters slightly; but if this house fell out of use 170+ years ago, we could reasonably expect to see even less evidence of it on our maps than the other two. It might have been in the small plot opposite Iet-y-Llech, but it’s hard to say.

2 cottages recorded on the 1850 tithe map: both “occupied” by Daniel Griffiths, Blaencleddau.

The geographical relationship between “Uchaf” and “Isaf” farms isn’t wholly reliably either north-to-south or uphill-to-downhill. Perhaps it’s more usually that the “isaf” or “isha” is subservient to or of less importance than the “uchaf” or “ucha”? In 1841 we have no “Llech Uchaf” but can assume that “Llech” itself is the one that “Llech Isha” is “isha” to. Had it lasted longer, perhaps “Llech” would have been referred to in later life as “Llech Ucha”. It’s closer to the parent farm of Blaencleddau, but no farther uphill, nor farther north; in fact, the opposite in both cases.

There is a will drawn up for a widow called Martha Morris who lived at Llech, dating to 1828, digitized in the National Library of Wales archive. In it she says:

“My two sons James and David shall retain all the goods and moneys they owe me, as their own property for ever … after paying all my legal and funeral expenses, [my money is] to be divided into four equal shares … one fourth … to my daughter Ann Morris… [the rest to my other four children: Stephen, Martha, Mary, and Rachel].”

None of these children are traceable in the parish from the start-date of the censuses (1841), so we can assume none of them took over her tenancy.

And so, to the censuses. The first year is often the most difficult, and 1841 is no exception here. David John, 60, a mason, is living in “Yetllech” with Ann John, 15, who may well have been his daughter; but no such detail is forthcoming from the first census. Ann Rees, also 60, and a woman of independent means, is living in Llech with (daughters?) Sarah (30) and Elizabeth (20) Rees. The former, but not the latter, is listed as a servant. The complicating factor is the existence of the aforementioned “Llech Isha”, never to be seen again, in which lives James Thomas, 61, an agricultural labourer (presumably at Blaencleddau) with wife Sarah (40), and and children David (7) and Sarah (3). By 1851 this family (minus David) are living in “Byhoop” and we learn, due to the added detail of the ’51 census, that David senior was born in Ceredigion. Since I have no more idea where Byhoop is or was than where Llech Isha is or was (less even) we could perhaps assume it’s the same cottage, renamed? E T Lewis mentions a “By Hwp” as one of the many Mynachlogddu mystery cottages, but offers no explanation for the words (which make no sense to me in English or Welsh) nor clues as to the location.

The supposed former site of Llech cottage, as it appeared on a September morning in 2019.

As for Llech and Iet in ’51: “Yetllech” is now home to Sophia Evans, an agricultural labourer’s wife, and her children Thomas (3) and Mary (0). Sophia’s husband is oddly not present; perhaps living onsite at the farm he’s working at? (i.e. not Blaencleddau; somewhere farther?) It’s an unusual situation, and one that led me down a merry path of false impressions, whereby I became briefly convinced that this Sophia Evans was the same Sophia Evans listed in Llanboidy in ’41, and later in ’71 and ’81, and that she’d run away from home to be with someone who then ran away from her. Given that we’re working with such a small amount of information it can be all too tempting to fill in the gaps with the imagination; or rather, to let the imagination run wild. I could have just skipped forward to ’61 for a clearer impression of the real sequence of events. But we’ll get there in a minute. Firstly, Llech in ’51 is still home to Ann Rees, “Widow of labourer”, 75, and one of her daughters, Elizabeth, now 30, who remains unmarried.

In 1861 we learn that Sophia has died, leaving her 35-year old agricultural-labourer widower William Evans in Iet-Y-Llech to care for their children Mary (10), David (8), Hana (5) and William (2). I haven’t bothered paying for access to all the legal documents, as the website I use is positively extortionate; but there is an indication that Sophia Evans was buried in 1861, some time before the census was taken. Incidentally, there is at the same time a 13-year-old boy called Thomas Evans (born in Mynachlogddu) working as a servant in Penlan, Whitechurch, Ceredigion, and I suspect he was their eldest, and probably hadn’t been out the house long. Llech is now home to Morris Williams, 31, agricultural labourer, born in the parish, and Margaret Williams, 31, born in neighbouring Llanfyrnach, and their children John (3) and Ann (1). None of these are traceable on any other census.

Iet-Y-Llech (top); Llech might be to the south. Llech Isha might be to the right? OS 1888.

By 1871 William Beynon, farm labourer, 64 is at Iet-Y-Llech with his wife Mary (60) who is also a labourer. Names are entered for Llech for the last time (indeed, it doesn’t appear on the 1888 OS map, so I’ve had to guess its location). Those names are as follows. William Stephen, 35, Carpenter, born in Llanfyrnach. Martha Stephen, 33, his wife, from Capel Castellan. Anne, 9, scholar; James, 6, scholar; Margaret, 4; Martha and Mary, both 2. All of the children were born in the parish, and quite probably in the cottage itself. the family were in “Iet Fronlas” near Foel Drygarn in ’61 (i.e. at the last census) where they had an infant son called David who must have died in the interim, and also la 10-year old called Mary Stephen who one would presume to be their daughter, but for the fact that she is listed as “nurse” which apparently indicates she was someone else’s child who they were raising, probably for a fee. William Stephen is unusually easy to trace on the censuses, so we know he was from a big family, and that his father David Stephen (probably the namesake of his ill-fated first son) taught him his trade, alongside an older brother called John. We also know that by 1881 he is a “master carpenter” living in Castellan with wife Martha, and children Phoebe (9), Hannah (7), Rachel (3) and David (a new one, 1). The lack of Margaret, Martha or Mary might immediately seem ominous, but we cannot know for sure if they were dead, working away or simply living with someone else. Though the first two are untraceable in the vicinity (certainly up to 20 miles), Mary, it transpires, has gone to live with her grandparents David and Margaret in Llanfyrnach, and is now a twelve-year-old “scholar”.

That last paragraph was long. Do you still remember the Beynons? Maybe not. But they’re still at Iet-Y-Llech in 1881. She’s Mary, 70, and he’s William, 80, and after many years as a labourer he is now a farmer of 10 acres, which feels like a massive achievement. They’re both gone by 1891, but their daughter Ann, 37, single, a farmer, is the sole resident. Ann was 7 in ’61 (nice when the maths works out!) and living with her parents in Llwyn Piod on the other side of the parish. (At that time a 96-year old alms woman called Lettice Michael was boarding with them. We can safely assume she is dead by this point.) 20 years ago, Ann was a general servant to a farmer in Blaen Nevern, Castellan; 10 years ago Ann was a maid at Caermeini Isaf. However much she enjoyed her time at Iet-Y-Llech, the census does not reveal; but we do know that by 1911, Annie (as she’s now known) is a 57-year-old servant to an 82-year-old widower called Howell Rees at a place called Neuadd in Blaenffos.

We can assume unless evidence to the contrary is discovered that the two (or three) cottages around the collapsed cromlech on the eastern side of the Crymych road in northeast Mynachlogddu fell into ruin at this point. Today, several little rectangles of dry stone wall remain, with twisted trees sprouting from each. Sheep, horses, and cattle graze peacefully in the marshy surrounding fields and barely a trace of human life is noticeable but for the distant buzz of a tractor or whirr of a passing car.

A Velky, September, 2019.

The former location of Iet-Y-Llech. A window might afford one a view of the ruined cromlech.

Clawdd-Du & Penbanc, Mynachlogddu

Spelling variants: Clawdd Du / Clawdu; Pen Banc / Pen Bank / Penbank

Approximate English translations: Black-Hedge & Banktop

The alleged site of Clawdd-Du: a wall remains, and piles of stones. Pictured March 2019.

I first came across Clawdd-du, like many of the forgotten homes of the parish, on the 1888 OS map on the wonderful National Library of Scotland website.

1888: Clawdd-Du is there, but not Penbanc.

The site is at the north central edge of the parish, in the shadow of Carn Menyn; on the border of the marshy common land, to the north, and the enclosed fields associated with Caermeini Isaf and Tycwta, to the south. A branch of Afon Tewgyll forms this border, and the brook babbles westward, downhill right by the gate that takes hikers up to see the famous Preseli bluestones.

1819: neither Clawdd-Du nor Penbanc visible.

Unlike with many of the older houses in the parish, we can be pretty sure of the dates both before and after the existence of Clawdd-Du: it does not appear to be marked on the early 1819-34 OS map, and it does not feature on the 1901 census. So it doesn’t seem that Clawdd-Du lived to see its hundredth birthday.

Clawdd-Du circled; Penbanc just below?

But the history of this farmhouse is complicated somewhat by a nearby associated house called Penbanc: hence the doubled-up title of this entry. Clawdd-Du is conveniently situated immediately adjacent to the public footpath on a bridleway which was once a trans-Preseli footpath and/or droving route. The modern OS map shows two clustered little field enclosures one after the other between Carmeini Isaf and the common, so even though just one farmhouse was named on the 1888 map, I had a feeling the site just south of Clawdd-du was also once a homestead, and the censuses seem to indicate as much.

Before I trudge through the somewhat complex and busy decades accounted for by the census, it’s also worth noting the nearby Pant y Cadno farmhouse (to the southwest on the above-featured modern OS map, and on the tithe map to the right). This is also no longer in existence, though it survived for slightly longer than either of the subjects of this post. (It will get its own entry, don’t worry.)

The above tithe entry for Clawdd-du lists its parcel of land as a “Cottage & Garden” occupied by “Daniel Rees”; as is usually the case with labourer’s houses, the occupier of the farm they work on is listed here, and Mr Rees was the head of Carnmenyn/Caermeini Isaf, with one David Rees (quite possibly a relative) in occupation at nearby Tycwta. Although Penbanc (or a second labourer’s cottage) was on the censuses at this time, it does not appear on the tithe map.

So: 1841 is the first census, and “Clawdu” is home to Moris Moris and his wife Phebe (both 35) and 5 children: Daniel, Evan, Mary, William, and an as-yet-unnamed week-old baby (aaaw!). All were born in Pembrokeshire. As a quick side-note, there is a Catherine Moris, 20, living at Pant y Cadno with Philip and Catherine Thomas and their young son Caleb. She is listed as “independent”, indicating that she looked after herself financially. She might have been a relative of the Clawdd-Du Morises; it’s even mathematically possible (though unlikely) she was a very early child. But I don’t know.

By 1851 Moris Moris is dead and Phebe Morris has an extra R in her surname (but no O in her given name). She’s also aged 15 years in the past 10; but this does sometimes happen on censuses. She is a “pauper”. Her adult son Thomas Morris, 26, is living with her, and is also listed as a widow (?) and an agricultural labourer. The only other remaining children are William Morris (with a slight discrepancy in his age, but not enough to prevent him being the same person) and Morris Morris, 9; possibly the unnamed week-old baby from 1841, possibly a later child.

The confusion arises from the fact that the Morrises are now living in “Penbank”, and that “Clawdu” is occupied by a 30-year-old agricultural labourer from Capel Castellan called John Lewis, and his family: wife Mary (35), daughters Hannah (9) and Mary (3), son David (6), and finally Sarah Ludwig, Mary’s 78-year-old mother who is a “pauper”.

That probably doesn’t sound too confusing? Well, thanks to whoever collected the census details in 1861, it gets a little harder to follow; because this time we have a Clawdu 1 and a Clawdu 2, but no Penbanc. Clawdu 1 (possibly Penbanc?) is still(?) home to Phebe Morris. She lives with just one other person: Morris Morris: but a Morris Morris who is 10 (not 19 or 20) and is listed as her grandson, not her son. She had a fair few children, so it’s not unlikely one of them named a child after their dad and that the child’s grandmother was for one reason or another tasked with his upbringing. We don’t see any Morris Morrises again in Mynachlogddu, so this is the last time we see this chap. As for Phebe’s other kids… they’re pretty hard to trace too (given that I’m not spending hours and hours on each individual, that is). In 1851 there was a Mynachlogddu-born Mary Morris working as a housemaid to Elizabeth Davies, an 87 year old farmer in Pantebach, Llanfyrnach. This might have been one of Phebe’s. Meanwhile back in 1861 there’s an unmarried carter in Clynmain, Whitechurch, Ceredigion (not Pembrokeshire) called William Morris. And there’s a Dan Morris (32) who’s head of a farm called Pantyryn, in nearby Llanfyrnach. But none of them are in Clawdu 1.

And neither are they in Clawdu 2, which is still home to the Lewises: John (41), labourer, wife Mary (45), daughter Mary (13), sons William (9) and Thomas (6). So they had at least 5 children born in at least 4 different places, and are thus pretty difficult to follow around; but fortunately for me, I’m interested in the houses primarily, and only the people secondarily.

So I can just skip forward to 1871 when Phebe Morris is still living in Penbanc (or living in Penbanc again, after it was briefly renamed Clawdu 1). She’s a 69-year-old widow living up a rather large hill on her own. At least it’s a nice hill. Dan Morris and William Morris are both heads of houses in the wider area (or at least people with the same name and approximate birth years to them are) but it’s hard to tell how many of her family are still in the area; certainly none of them are under her roof. Her neighbours have changed too. Clawdu is now home to 56-year-old Mary Thomas, a farmer (note: not a labourer) of 10 acres, and her 11-year-old “scholar” nephew, John. I hope they got on. Mary and Phebe, I mean; but I can happily extend the sentiment to everyone in the locality out of sheer goodwill.

By 1881, Penbanc was unoccupied and Phebe, the locality’s longest-serving (known) resident, was finally dead or fled. Clawdd Du (spelled like that for the first time) was now home to Caleb John and family, and Mary Thomas had come down the mountain to Penybont (in what is now the “village” of Mynachlogddu) to retire.

Now, Caleb has an interesting trajectory. Born high up on the western slopes of Talfyydd in Bwlch Giten into the big family of Thomas and Elizabeth John, by 1861 they were all barely half a mile south in PentryIthel (Pantithel); by 1871 they’d moved to Tycwta in East Central Mynachlogddu (yes, that’s a well-used term, what of it?) and only two sons remained in the house. Caleb took a wife (Martha, 30 in 1881) up to Clawdd-Du and they had a 3-month old daughter called Elizabeth at the time of their first census as a family. But this was not to be a new chapter in Clawdd-Du’s history: oh, no; merely a footnote. By 1891 they’d moved to the slopes of Foel Dyrch at Bwlch Stop (nowadays called Dolau Isaf and/or the Preseli Mohair Centre, I think) and they had an additional son. By 1901 they’d moved back to the Crymych road to live in Glanrhyd, and they were still there in 1911. So Caleb John lived in just about every bit of Mynachlogddu in his life, except the bit I live in. (I won’t take it personally).

In 1891 Clawdd-Du is occupied by John and Mary Hughes. He’s a 75-year-old farmer and butcher from Clydey. She’s 49 and also a butcher, but from Castellan (now part of Boncath I think). By 1901 the couple had shifted a mile(ish) east to Carngoy and Clawdd-Du, alas, is no longer listed as occupied on the census.

So that’s that. in 120-ish years the sites of these houses have been reduced to almost nothing by way of visible traces of human habitation. I’m not even sure I’ve got them the right way around, but if we can rely on the 1888 OS map, then we can probably assume the place to the south was Penbanc; but it’s also possible it was merely a shed or sheepfold, and that the two cottages adjoined each other on the border of the common. I suspect further detail on these two will be hard to come by, but the site is easily accessible, and the imagination can fill in at least some of the gaps.

A Velky, September, 2019.

The site of Penbanc, just to the south of Clawdd-Du? Or is it the other way around?

Danperci, Mynachlogddu

The location of Dan Perci, as it appeared in September, 2018

Spelling variants: Danparkie / Dan Perci / Dan Perkey / Danperkie / Dan Perky / Tan Parke

English approximate translation: Under Field

Dan Perci present but unnamed, 1819-34 OS map

Dan Perci would appear according to the tithe map to have been a cottage in the southern section of Dyffryn Ffilbro’s land, southwest Mynachlogddu, just adjoining the southern section of Gors Fawr common, opposite Llandre Uchaf, where the brooks that drain the periphery of the bog flow southwest into Afon Wern at the parish’s western border.

Presumably the cottage was built by and for farm labourers working at Dyffryn Ffilbro, probably in the late 18th or early 19th century.

The cottage, illustrated on the 1850s Tithe map

Dan Perci is not named on the earliest detailed OS map (1888), and seems already to have been vacant by then. However, it’s illustrated on the Mynachlogddu tithe map as a small unnamed rectangle, considerably smaller than its neighbouring buildings, and listed as field number 143: “Cott. garden & field”, (usage: “pasture”), occupied by “David Stephen”; i.e. Stephen David, the farmer of the 97-acre Dyffryn Ffilbro farm, which itself has by now been vacant for about half a century, but which was at the time home to a large and relatively prosperous farming family.

Dan Perci’s boundaries on the 1888 OS map

There were, at the time of the tithe mapping, countless fields called “dan perci” or variations thereof in the region, so one can suppose that the cottage took its name from the field it was built in. Indeed, the larger enclosure just to the south was called “Werglodd fach dan parkey” and two to the west seem to have virtually identical names.

The censuses reveal that for the time of its known habitation Dan Perci was home to just one family.

Edward John was an agricultural labourer (also listed as a pauper in 1851) born in the neighbouring parish of Cilymaenllwyd in about 1796. His wife Ann, born in Llanfyrnach, also just next-door to Mynachlogddu, was about five years older than Edward; though both of their ages, and those of their children, are inconsistently entered across ’41, ’51 and ’61. In the first entry they have two children living with them, William (12) and Mary (7). William has left by ’51 but Mary remains until the house’s last recorded census entry in 1871. Unfortunately, I can’t find out what happened to either child after they left Dan Perci; either they died or left the locality, or (as is likelier in Mary’s case, if she got married) changed their surnames.

Dan Perci’s location on my OS map.

The field boundaries remain little changed from back then, and a glance at the latest OS map immediately betrays the existence of a former homestead by that bend in the brook.

Although it’s on private land*, I visited the site a year ago by accident while trying to make the (theoretically legal) journey from Pont Mynachlogddu to Gors Fawr via the contiguous funnel of access land. Although there was no sign of a building as such, the remaining small enclosures (pictured above) had a peaceful and welcoming feeling that contrasted with both the conventionally enclosed and relatively bare sheep pastures adjoining to the northwest, and the semi-enclosed marshy common-land on the other side of the brook.

I think this, the largest tree in the area, was an ash, and thus probably wasn’t there 150-200 years ago.

Mature trees (mostly ash and sycamore, a few oak) have sprung up from what were the walls of the garden, and there’s something resembling a whole orchard of hawthorns in one small enclosure, which looked like it was only ever visited by sheep.

A few more pictures from that walk are on my Instagram.

A Velky, September, 2019.

* Update: on closer inspection of the modern OS map, the cluster of fields comprising the former site of Danperci is actually part of the contiguous funnel of access land from Pont Mynachlogddu to Gors Fawr, and therefore legally open to the public.