Perhaps the most eccentric of Welsh squires in recent years was Ford Hughes
of Aberceri. He was the only son of another freak, old Davies of
Nantygwylan, near Newcastle-Emlyn, who married a Lloyd of Bronwydd. Mr
Davies was a self-made man, and after his marriage into 'the county' his
efforts to shine in society afforded much amusement. Amongst other
peculiarities he always attended public dinners and meetings in the company
of a sort of mentor, who instructed him on points of etiquette as they
arose. - 'Now then, Mr Dafis, peck o'r pen!' was a frequent exhortation. In
other words, Mr Davies was to bow acknowledgement for some compliment or
toast at a social gathering. But though the father was rather an odd fish,
he was conventional in comparison with his son. Why the latter assumed the
name of Hughes I never knew for his only sister (whom I remember well) was
always called Miss Lloyd-Davies. Although a wealthy landowner with one or
two places of his Own, Ford Hughes had a perfect mania for both buying and
renting vacant country houses. For years he was a perfect God send to the
impoverished gentry of the Tivyside, for he would apply for the refusal of
any house that happened to be for sale or to let. After spending his early
life in London and Paris, when he must have mixed in very queer company,
Ford Hughes finally settled, not in one of his many mansions but in a mean
house in Union Street, Carmarthen. Here he lived all alone, though a few
relatives or friends occasionally visited him in his squalid solitude. His
unfortunate sister, who was an ardent Roman Catholic and keen supporter of
St Mary's Mission Church in Carmarthen, had lodgings near her brother, and
used to be admitted from time to time to see him. Otherwise Ford Hughes was
never seen by daylight, but occasionally he would hire a fly at nightfall
and drive long distances through the darkness to visit one or other of his
various country-seats, arriving at some unearthly hour and only staying for
a few minutes, in order to reach his Carmarthen house again before daylight.
And such a house as he owned! From the street the passer-by could note the
filthy windows that were heaped inside with masses of dirty rags, ashes and
old newspapers. His meals were brought by a boy from an inn in Lammas Street
and deposited outside his locked door. The sanitary conditions of the house
were indescribable, especially after his water-supply was cut off by the
authorities. And yet the Corporation of Carmarthen allowed this poor crazy
eremite to exist thus for years! At length when the food was found untouched
outside the locked door, somebody or other thought it time to interfere, so
officials broke open the doors and invaded the house. The unhappy man, then
helpless with his last illness, was taken to the workhouse sanatorium, and I
do not know how many layers of underclothing were removed or scraped from
his body. The stench in the house was such that some of the rescuing-party
(if one may so describe them) were made physically sick on the spot.
Nor does this strange story end here. Poor Ford Hughes died a day or two
after his reception into the workhouse, and then arose a hue and cry for his
will, which could not be found in his abandoned house. But, as the political
economists aver, where there is a demand there is always a supply
forthcoming; and in this case some half-dozen alleged wills of the deceased
squire were sent to Messrs Barker, Morris and Owen, of Carmarthen, his
solicitors. One of these was a document so admirably concocted that for a
time the legal luminaries in London to whom it was referred were in some
doubt as to its authenticity or the reverse. Finally, it was pronounced an
impudent forgery, like the less-ably drawn documents. Alas, poor human
nature! The man descending to the beast, and his fellow-man striving to gain
wealth thereby! It was judicially decided that Ford Hughes had died
intestate, and his property, the wreck of what had once been a fine fortune,
passed to his sister, Miss Lloyd-Davies, who only survived her brother a few
months.
From the Squires of South Wales, Herbert M Vaughan, 1926
Regards
Richard James