----- Original Message -----
From: Richard James <Carmarthenshirefhs(a)btinternet.com>
To: <carmarthenshire-fhs-l(a)rootsweb.com>
Cc: <CARMARTHENSHIRE-L(a)rootsweb.com>
Sent: Tuesday, October 31, 2000 7:01 PM
Subject: Oddities & Quiddities Part 1
Oddities and Quiddities
In a whole class such as the squirearchy of Wales there was naturally
space
for many diverse types of the squire. As I make this simple
statement,
there
occur to me two extreme cases of such diversity. There was Edward
Abadam,
son of Edward Hamlyn Adams, MP for the county soon after the Reform Act,
and
the purchaser of the fine place and estate of Middleton Hall in
Carmarthenshire from the Paxtons. Middle-ton Hall, a large white mansion
in
the pseudo-classical style, with its park and its three lakes and
its
conspicuous sham castle, known as 'Paxton's Folly' (built to commemorate
Nelson's victories), was at that time perhaps the finest modern seat in
all
South Wales. Sold a few years ago to some speculators in real
estate,
Middleton Hall is now uninhabited and falling fast to decay, but I can
remember it when it still retained some of its splendour. Edward Abadam,
who
'adopted this form of surname by prefixing to his paternal name
the Welsh
patronymic ab,' was a remarkable man and in many respects far ahead of his
own generation. He had a considerable knowledge of archaeology, of
heraldry
and of foreign literature; he insisted on French and German tutors
and
governesses for his family; he was also (what was rare everywhere in those
days and almost unique in his own class) a vegetarian. Amongst other
modernities that he introduced in his time at Middleton Hall was a lift,
but
I learned of its existence by a curious chance. As a young fellow,
very
shy
and callow, I went to stay at Middleton, and whilst I was dressing
for
dinner was startled by an awful crash resounding through the house.
Rushing
out into the passage, I was informed by one of the servants that the
lift
had just broken and fallen from top to bottom of the house. Luckily
it
only
contained a mass of luggage, so no bones were broken. I do not think
it
was
ever used after that, but at that date I am pretty sure it was the
only
lift
in domestic use in Wales.
From the novel and cultivated life of Middleton Hall it was a long step to
the simple existence of such a house as Pantyderi in North Pembrokeshire.
Here the squire, Mr Thomas Colby, one of the Colby family of Ffynone and
Rhosygilwen (and the son of old General Colby, an austere, distinguished
soldier who refused a baronetcy), presided over a household that had many
points in common with the establishment started by Count Tolstoy in
Russia.
All was simple to the verge of discomfort. Pantyderi was, in short,
a
mansion run on the lines of a farmhouse, where all the men and maids dined
with the family and all partook of the same coarse but abundant fare. A
friend told me that many years ago she went to a luncheon-party at
Pantyderi, and she could clearly recall the experience. She remembered how
the trees on the drive, untrimmed for ages past, met overhead, and
overshadowed the house. The meal itself consisted of a huge dish filled
with
some sort of stew, and this was followed by an equally enormous
suet-pudding
stuffed with stringy sour rhubarb. For dessert a blue-paper parcel
of
gingerbread, old and musty, was handed round to the guests. Another
feature
of the place that struck my informant was the dining-room itself,
naturally
a fine chamber but with a cheap ugly paper pasted over everything, -
walls,
doors and cupboards alike. Mr Colby, generally called 'Twm
Colby,' was of
course a character, and his views against vaccination were often
vehemently
expressed at all public meetings he attended. He was indeed a quaint
denizen
of the countryside, wearing ordinary labourer's dress at home and
appearing
in black broadcloth on other occasions, so that with his shiny black
clothes
and his 'Newgate frill' he might easily be mistaken for some
old-fashioned
dissenting minister. He was not unnaturally an object of much amusement to
the English Suffragettes who invaded Pembrokeshire during the bye-election
of 1908, for he frequently attended their meetings and asked them
searching
questions. I remember too his coming to luncheon once at Llangoedmor,
and
how angrily he expressed his opinion of the illustrated advertisements of
corsets he discovered on turning over the pages of some weekly journal on
the table. Nor was he very polite in argument, for when my mother said
something to him about anti-vaccination that he did not agree with, he
turned round to her with a fierce, 'You know nothing whatever about the
matter!' He passed away not many years ago at a ripe old age, and in spite
of his crustiness and eccentricities Wales was a loser by his death;
originals are always welcome in this dull standardized world of ours.
Another well-known character of my youth was 'Billy' Philipps, a younger
brother of Captain Grismond Philipps of Cwmgwili. As Chief Constable of
Carmarthenshire, he was naturally a man in and under authority, and he
carried out his official duties with zeal and capacity. In social life
there
were endless stories of his quaint repartee and imperturbable humour.
On
one
occasion he was invited to stay at Pentre in the Tivyside by his
sister,
Mrs
Saunders
Davies. Billy Philipps had not been in the house twenty-four hours before
the brother and sister had fallen out violently. - 'You will leave my
house
today!' cried Mrs Saunders-Davies, full of indignation.-
'Heart o'mine!'
(his favourite expression) replied Billy; 'for a fortnight you asked me to
stay, Fanny, and for a fortnight I shall remain!' And remain he did.
He was not celebrated for his tact. On one occasion he was dining at
Dynevor
Castle with a solemn company. Billy Philipps, who would have his
little
joke, during a ponderous pause called out in his loud Doric tones to his
host: 'Me Lard, which wud ye rather be? The head of an ass or the tail of
an
ass?' Lord Dynevor did not appear greatly pleased or interested
by this
riddle, so replied dryly he did not know. - 'Ah, me Lard, ye can be
neither!
For ye're no end of an ass!' retorted the delighted Billy.
From: The South Wales Squires :Herbert M Vaughan 1926
Regards
Richard James