Castle of despair

A few weeks ago I blipped Haverfordwest workhouse, and today I took Guinea Pig Zero to see the one at the opposite end of the county, near Cardigan. It lies across the Teifi estuary from the town, at the far end of the village of Llandudoch/St Dogmael's which is now part of Pembrokeshire.

I don't think many people outside the immediate vicinity know about Castle Albro, as it is called. It is now a shabby and dilapidated building, privately owned by people who have for many years been attempting to restore its crumbling structure and  parts of it are let for holiday accommodation.. I only learnt of its existence when I visited some years ago with a local history group, and this time, as every other time I've been, the place seemed as deserted as the Marie Celeste, although there was washing on the clothes lines, a leaf-strewn trampoline on the lawn, wheelbarrows full of bricks.

The institution, built around 1840 like many others, when the Poor Laws were revised, has a rustic feel, settled in a green valley that runs down to the river. It's built on a cruciform plan with four yards and a central spine that would have housed a bakery and kitchen. A stream tinkles past, there's a curious fence made of slate, the roofs are mossy and lichened old apple trees lean to touch the ground. The place doesn't have the bleak and forbidding air of Haverfordwest and other workhouses. and I prefer to imagine that this was a less punitive institution. Nevertheless, one has to remember that these were places of last resort, the cruel consequence of destitution that most likely was brought about by circumstances beyond the individual's control. If a man could not support his family through inability to work, be it as a result of illness, disability or alcohol, its members would all have to enter the workhouse, be assigned to separate quarters and forced to work for a basic subsistance diet. There was little chance of release unless the man found work - but how? Likewise, the old, the disabled, the incapable, if their own families could not care for them, would have no alternative but to end their days in the workhouse, abandoning all possessions. Pregnant unmarried girls, if ejected by their parents, would have their babies here but would not be able to keep them. The food was meagre, the beds were hard, the clothing rough, and the work back-breaking (grinding bones for fertilizer for example, or sewing sacks). The harshness of the regime depended a great deal on the individual attitude of the superintending husband and wife and it appears that some workhouses were softer than others. I like to imagine this was one such. Today, within the sheltered confines of the inner yard, trees were in blossom, vegetables were doing well in the garden and bees buzzed around a hive. Yes, there would have been despair here but perhaps kindness  and mutual support too.

(On the 1881 census there are 3 staff and 52 inmates ranging in age from 1 to 86 years. The most common occupations of the men are seaman and farm labourer, although there are also a blacksmith and a shoemaker, and about 8 'scholars' i.e. children under 14.)

Workhouses were phased out 100 years ago but many, like this one, morphed into similar institutions such as geriatric hospitals and orphanages. Castle Albro became the latter and here is a photograph of 'staff and orphans' in 1927. (Some of those children could still be alive today.)

Guinea Pig Zero is  blipping another aspect of this workhouse - do have a look, it's a real eye-opener.