10 – Merthyr Rising, 1831
Once the idea of revolution is out in the open, it is a notoriously difficult one to control. Certainly, one of the least successful ways of controlling revolution is to smash it head on, as that tends to turn the people among whom the idea is fermenting against the government even more. Britain, perhaps more than any country, as averted and avoid revolutions over the centuries through a combination of coercion and co-option: the English Revolution, a revolution against the King’s right to absolute rule, was eventually defeated and replaced by more absolute rule, before the idea of constitutional monarchy was adopted anyway, while the various uprisings against the Corn Laws, the unrepresentative nature of Parliament and the centralisation of power were all crushed, only for large swaths of their demands to be taken into the mainstream. Thus, England has maintained the idea of not having a revolution while actually having several.
That isn’t to say that the tactics for dealing with dissent have become much more subtle over time. The tendency of the British state to pile into its own people has always been there, and few times was it so starkly displayed as in the Welsh town of Merthyr Tydfil in 1831.
Merthyr, like much of South Wales, made its money from coal mining. The market for coal was always there – people always needed to keep warm and factories always needed fuel – but the work was simple and casualisation of labour was always a problem. Unemployment – or at least, underemployment – was common and many families suffered with usury, buying food on credit when times were hard in the hope that they could pay their debts when work was available. In 1831, the owner of the local ironworks, William Crawshay, presided over workers who were increasingly angered by a lack of work and commensurate falling wages – the logic of supply and demand dictating that, when men were unemployed, those with jobs could be paid less in the knowledge that they had nowhere else to sell their labour.
This hardly endeared Crawshay to the local population on in May, 1831, the workers began to revolt. They demonstrated for reform in the streets, roping in other colleagues from nearby towns and villages to join their protests. By the end of the month, the whole area was in revolt against the government and the factory bosses. The mob invaded the debtor’s court and destroyed all the records of usury, freeing themselves from what they owed. They shouted slogans against the King and raised the red flag over Merthyr – reportedly the first time that that symbol had ever been used.
At the start of June they moved to bring other workers out on strike and into revolt, while the government in London decided to call in the army to restore order. The soldiers, faced with over seven thousand workers, fired and killed more than 20 protesters. Still, however, they were forced back. The workers took control of the town, formed paramilitary defence units and commandeered arms from the Highland Regiment that had been sent to pacify the town. Eventually, after over a week of mob rule, 450 soldiers managed to retake Merthyr. The retribution was swift: rioters were imprisoned, others were sentenced to be sent to Australia and two were hanged.
