Looking North
East from Beech Terrace on the valley of the Ebbw was like gazing down on the black
landscape of Blake’s ‘Jerusalem’, somehow shoe-horned into the valley, in-between the
green and pleasant hills . Below the tree-line, fringed by the endless rows of
identical terrace houses, there were the gas works, the tin-plate works, the
chemical works, the smelting works and, dominating the valley, the infamous Prince
of Wales Colliery, opened in about 1836 and for many decades the principle place
of employment.
In 1878, a huge explosion devastated the mine.
There were at least 325 men and
boys underground. The explosion, underground fires and oxygen deprivation
killed about 268 workers, but the true total will never be known.
Two very brave rescue teams risked danger of more explosions and other
hazards and saved about 90 men. The rescuers were quite rightly awarded Albert Medals. Nonetheless the disaster made 131 women widows and 360
children lost relatives. It was one of the greatest disasters of the South
Wales Coalfield.
The explosions had ignited the coal seams themselves, giving a continuous risk of further explosions, so to extinguish
the fires the mine was flooded with water diverted from the canal. In two
months about 35 million gallons were poured in. The mine reopened four years
later and in time became prosperous, but they were still finding skeletons 25
years later.
Sadly, in the 19th
century there were also accidents at the nearby collieries in Cwmcarn and Risca
that claimed over 300 more lives. Together the tragedies directly affected
about half of the population. The impact on the community of the valley must
have been profound, and I can’t help thinking the disasters still coloured community
life many generations later.
On days when the grey
rain swept endlessly down the valley, it was as if the cobbles were washed with
the tears of the terraces.
When I was a lad those terraces
seemed unchanged, but the Prince of Wales colliery was almost derelict and in
1959 the shafts were filled and the site was cleared. Now all the heavy
industry has gone and green fields again cover the valley floor. A stone memorial up on the hill in Abercarn Cemetery looks down on the changing landscape.
But are we certain is
it the feasting of Islwyn that we hear far below the ground? We may forget, but the land remembers.
