Ninety-five years ago today, on 4 July 1926, General Marden unveiled the Pant War Memorial, with about 1,300 people in attendance and with loud speakers and microphones were in place for the event. Pant was the second village in the area to erect a memorial to the men killed in the First World War.
The Memorial Committee was inaugurated in 1920; house-to-house collections were organised and many promises of weekly contributions were made, but due to the coal strike of 1921, and the trade depression that followed, the final cost of £800 was not quite met. The local inhabitants had paid the bulk of the money, and the school-children contributed largely through the many concerts organised by the staff. Also mentioned for their donations were: Merthyr Football Club, the directors of the Victoria Cinema and the Oddfellows Hall (where the concerts were held).
Mr F. J. Bateson released the ground he had rented from Messrs Guest, Keen and Nettlefold, enabling them to give the ground, previously owned by Daniel Thomas, stonemason, for the memorial. Before the memorial could be erected, the urinal built in 1906 had to be moved to the other side of Caeracca Bridge.
The Memorial is built mainly of Portland stone, with the side wing walls and steps leading to the cenotaph of local limestone. The bronze plate centrepiece reveals the names of local men who were killed during the conflict.
Designed by Mr C. H. C. Holder, a curator at Cyfarthfa Museum, the sculpture is a monument to the skill of Councillor F. J. Bateson from Pant and his assistants. The Mayor, Alderman D. Davies J. P., another Pant resident, accepted the deed as a gift from Mr S. J. Lloyd, Secretary of the Memorial Committee. The mayor had actually lost his son in the War, and his name is commemorated on the plaque.
General Marden, in his response, thanked the Dowlais Male Voice Party for “the most wonderful singing he had ever heard”. The march to Pant was led by the Municipal Band and the G.K.N. Dowlais Silver Band.
A second plaque was added to the memorial to honour the men of the village who died during the Second World War.
To the left hand side of the main memorial is another plaque honouring the men who had been employed at the I.C.I. Factory at Dowlais who died in the Second World War. These were:
On 1st April 1898, Sam Hughes died in a small terraced house at Three Mile Cross on the outskirts of Reading. His widow, in grief and poverty, petitioned the Royal Society of Musicians for a small grant to pay for his funeral. The Society, which had treated him kindly in the closing years of his life, responded benevolently once more, for it was known that his passing marked the end of a significant, if brief, era. Sam Hughes was the last great ophicleide player. He was perhaps the only really great British ophicleide player. Many great romantic composers including Mendelssohn, Wagner and Berlioz wrote for the instrument, which was invented by a man called Halary in Paris in 1821 – three years before Sam Hughes was born. For the next half century it was widely used but few played it well. George Bernard Shaw regularly referred to it as the “chromatic bullock” but even he, whose caustic indignation was often vented on London’s brass players, had been moved by a rendering of O Ruddier than the Cherry by Mr Hughes.
The fate of the ophicleide (right) and the story of Sam Hughes provide a neat illustration of the pace and character of musical change in Britain in the Victorian period. One product of this change was the brass band “movement” – a movement which, if the untested claims of most authors on the subject are to be believed, had its origins in Wales. Despite Shaw’s claims that the ophicleide had been “born obsolete”, it died because it was consumed by the irresistible forces of technological invention and commercial exploitation. In particular, it was overtaken by the euphonium.
The euphonium was invented in the 1830s. It became popular some time later, but from the start it was easier to play and simpler and cheaper to manufacture. The makers ensured that the euphonium usurped the ophicleide’s position as the bass-baritone instrument in brass bands by contriving one of the neatest tricks of the 19th century. At brass band contests it was common to single out the best individual player of the day (irrespective of what instrument he performed on) and award him an elaborate prize – a sort of “man of the match” award. From the mid-century the winners of these awards were, with uncanny frequency, ophicleide players. Their prize was always a brand new euphonium. By about 1870 just about every good ophicleide player had “won” a euphonium.
The exception was Sam Hughes, who by that time had left the world of brass bands and was swanning around London with his ophicleide. He became professor of ophicleide at the Royal Military School of Music at Kneller Hall and at the Guildhall School of Music. He was destined for stardom with Jullien’s orchestra and to beguile George Bernard Shaw with O Ruddier than the Cherry at Covent Garden. In the mid-1850s Hughes was playing for the Cyfarthfa Brass Band in Merthyr Tydfil. Robert Thompson Crawshay, who had set up the band in 1838, had procured his services and arranged for him to have a job as a railway agent in Merthyr. He had apparently left by 1860, the year that the Cyfarthfa band came first at the great national contest at Crystal Palace. Their solo ophicleide player on that day was a man called Walker – he won a euphonium. The best brass band players in Wales were better than most of the professional brass players. The technical and artistic demands of the band repertoire were vastly greater than those of the orchestral repertoire. The likes of Sam Hughes demonstrated a touch that, by all accounts, drew gasps of admiration. The reasons why the players became so good and the consequences of that competence are worth thinking about.
Brass instruments were cheap and relatively easy to play. These two vital factors were pressed home by publishers, instrument manufacturers and everyone else who was astute enough to notice that an entire new market for music was opening. Musical literacy is easier to obtain than word literacy; to an extent, and unlike words, music looks like it sounds. It is possible, even probable, that many of the best 19th century brass band players (people who could play an Italian opera overture at sight) were otherwise illiterate.
Men like Sam Hughes were exemplars for those who followed. Their playing was heard by thousands at open-air contests and concerts. The brilliance of their playing was immediately evident and left little to doubt. Everyone could measure it. Musical skill is notorious for its lack of ambiguity; it is impossible to bluff your way through an ophicleide solo. The other issue of importance concerns the repertoire. While hymns and arrangements of Welsh folk songs are found in the surviving collections of music, the main body of the repertoire is classical or “art” music. Italian opera dominated the repertoire but Mozart, Haydn, Handel, Beethoven and Bach were also popular. (The adoption of Haydn and Handel as Christian names for boys came from this period). More modern music was also played. The Cyfarthfa repertoire included works by Wagner and a precociously talented local boy called Joseph Parry. Bands were the means by which instrumental art music became widely disseminated. The mass of the people had unequivocal access to this form of “high art”. They didn’t have to be able to read, and because most performances were in the open air, they didn’t even need the price of admission to hear the very best “modern music”.
The hand-written music from which players such as Sam Hughes played still survives. It provides unquestionable testimony as to how well the instruments were being played. Those who heard this playing did not just hear technical competence. They also heard musical virtuosity. Amidst the smoke and grime of Merthyr in the mid-19th century there sounded, on occasions, the lyricism of men like Sam Hughes. It was not just declamatory fanfares and scintillating chromatic runs that they played but gently turned phrases breathed softly above blocks of deep, sonorous harmony. Most brass band players lived and died where they were born. Sam Hughes died in poverty and a long way from home. The ophicleide died with him. There is a bitter irony in this story. Had he stayed in Merthyr he would have become Welsh. He would have died in comfort and security among people who admired him as one of their champions. Had he accepted the inevitable progress of technology and learned to play the euphonium he might even have died a rich man in London. He did neither.
Today Sam Hughes’s ophicleide rests in a glass case in Cyfarthfa Castle Museum. It is known throughout the world as one of the best surviving examples of its type. In the quest for authenticity, musicians are now learning to play the ophicleide again and clapped-out specimens are being lovingly restored. Hughes’ instrument plays as beautifully today as if the master had put it down just an hour ago.
The above is a much shortened version of an article which appeared in edition No.87 of Planet, The Welsh Internationalist.
William Crawshay II was the third generation of the Crawshay dynasty of Cyfarthfa Ironworks. Born on 27 March 1788, he was the second son of William Crawshay I, only son of Richard Crawshay, who took over ownership of the works from Anthony Bacon.
When Richard Crawshay died in 1810, owing to arguments between him and his son, William (senior), the latter only acquired a three-eighths share of the Cyfarthfa Ironworks, despite being the only son and heir. Over the next decade, William Crawshay senior set about acquiring the remaining shares in the Works to make himself undisputed master of Cyfarthfa. He, preferred however to live away from Merthyr, overseeing the Crawshays’ London base at the wharves in George’s Yard, Upper Thames Street, so he appointed his son William (II) to manage the operation at Cyfarthfa.
When William Crawshay II assumed business responsibilities, Welsh iron was in its heyday and Cyfarthfa prospered under his charge: in 1810 the four blast furnaces producing approximately 11,000 tons of pig iron annually.
These early years were marked by a perennial battle with his father over the extent of his authority at the works. The elder Crawshay was determined to keep Cyfarthfa subordinate to the family’s merchant house at George Yard. This his son could not endure; he was intent on selling Cyfarthfa iron as he saw fit, without reference to his father and brothers in London. Yet despite the repeated tendering (and hasty withdrawals) of his resignation young William was unable to overcome his father. ‘My Dear Will, don’t play the fool,’ his father told him after one threatened resignation in 1820, ‘You are now Vice-Roy of Cyfarthfa and will be Sovereign early enough if you will be content to allow his present Majesty some shadow of Royalty’.
By 1823 the Cyfarthfa Ironworks was the largest in Britain, producing 24,200 tons of pig iron from eight blast furnaces, and William, who was at this time living at Gwaelodygarth House, decided that it was time to erect a new home befitting his status as Merthyr’s ‘Iron King’. He employed architect and engineer Robert Lugar, the same engineer who built many bridges and viaducts for the local railways, to design a huge neo-gothic ‘mock’ castle, complete with towers and turrets, standing in 158 acres of landscaped parkland, overlooking the Ironworks. Cyfarthfa Castle was completed in 1824, at a cost of £30,000.
William Crawshay I died in 1834, and William II became sole proprietor of the Cyfarthfa Works, and also inheriting a share in the London property. By the time Crawshay entered into his inheritance, however, the pre-eminence of Cyfarthfa was slipping. He could not prevent his works being overhauled by neighbouring Dowlais, where the Guests were more sensitively attuned to the crucial market for rails in the 1830s and 1840s. Indeed, the aloofness of the Crawshay dynasty was fast becoming an impediment to continued success: little notice was taken, for example, of the new steelmaking technology of the 1850s. In William Crawshay’s last years it was clear that the great days had passed.
As a young man Crawshay inclined to radicalism in politics. He was also a firm supporter of anti-truck legislation, sensing an opportunity to embarrass the Guests, who operated a truck system (the system of paying wages in goods instead of money) at Dowlais. During the Reform crisis he actively promoted the cause of parliamentary reform – while simultaneously introducing a programme of sudden wage cuts at depression-hit Cyfarthfa. This was a volatile course of action, and one to which contemporaries attributed the insurrectionary riots which swept Merthyr in June 1831, obliging Crawshay to write a hasty defence of his role in local affairs, “The Late Riots at Merthyr Tydfil”(1831).
During the later 1830s he swung abruptly into the Tory camp, although this was a plainly opportunistic manoeuvre to unseat Sir Josiah John Guest, who had been returned for the newly enfranchised borough of Merthyr in 1832 on a radical ticket.
William was married three times, each time to a bride with connections in the iron trade. He married first, in 1808, Elizabeth, the daughter of Francis Homfray (1725–1798) of Stourbridge, a member of the midland iron-making dynasty, and later proprietor of the Penydarren Ironworks. They had three sons, and Elizabeth died in 1813 giving birth to a daughter. Crawshay married second, in 1815, Isabel, the daughter of James Thompson of Grayrigg, Westmorland. Her uncle William Thompson (1793–1854), MP, lord mayor of London in 1828, was a partner in the Penydarren Ironworks, and her uncle Robert Thompson was the proprietor of the Tintern Abbey Ironworks in Monmouthshire. Isabel died in 1827, having given birth to two sons and seven daughters. Crawshay married third, in 1828, Isabella (d. 1885), the sister of Thomas Johnson, a partner in the Bute Ironworks in the Rhymney Valley, and they had a daughter.
William began spending an increasing amount of time at his estate at Caversham in Oxfordshire, which he bought in 1848, having previously leased it for many years, and it was at Caversham that he died on 4 August 1867. In his will, the Cyfarthfa Ironworks were passed on to his elder son from his second marriage – Robert Thompson Crawshay.
I am sure many of you like me, have wandered around Cyfarthfa Museum, and glanced at the instruments on display – particularly the most intriguing “serpent” – and then moved on without a second thought. The Egyptian mummies were always so much more interesting. As a consequence, although I knew there had been a band, I knew nothing of it. Time to rectify that, my friends!
The Cyfarthfa Band was founded and sponsored by Robert Thompson Crawshay sometime in the 1840s, essentially as his private band. The band played when he had guests in Cyfarthfa, it accompanied him to trips to Aberystwyth and Tenby, where they played outside his hotel, probably to the bewilderment of the locals, and band members were expected to present in uniform at all times.
For much of its life, the band was conducted by the Livseys – father and son. The father, Ralph, was from Northumberland, and was a brilliant keyed bugle player, a skill probably acquired in a military band, as the keyed bugle was developed in this context. He became a soloist with Wombwell’s Travelling Circus and Menagerie, and would have been known to the Crawshays, as Merthyr was a regular venue on Wombwell’s circuit. Around 1846, Robert Crawshay made him an offer – come and lead my brass band – and Ralph accepted. His son, George, aged then 13 was also recruited as another keyed bugle player. Ralph took the band to new heights – while it remained a private band, Livsey persuaded Crawshay to equip it with expensive Viennese instruments (imported expressly through Crawshay’s London supplier), rather than the much cheaper British versions, and developed a repertoire of playing more orchestral music than was the traditional remit of the brass band.
As a private enterprise, the Cyfarthfa Band was not a competition band, and rarely entered such. However, one of the few competitions the band entered was the Crystal Palace national competition of 1860, in which it played Verdi’s “Nabucco”. The band came first on the second day’s contest, and Crawshay’s reputation as a man of culture and taste was cemented – through that, the band’s reputation grew. Its importance can be illustrated by the anecdote told of a time when Crawshay was laying off his workers as result of a downturn in demand. He had identified men working in the Boiler Shop who were to be dismissed. The foreman, Mr Jenkins looked at the list and told Crawshay, in no uncertain terms, that his selection would “take the guts from the band”. Nothing further was ever said.
Ralph Livsey died in 1863 and was succeeded by his son, George, who remained band master for most of the next 50 years. The band’s reputation was maintained, if not enhanced, under George’s leadership – it played in the Cardiff Flower Show for 18 years, and was chosen to play when the Prince of Wales (later Edward VII) opened the Prince of Wales dock in Swansea in 1881.
It was George who introduced the band to some of more unusual instruments – including the Serpent (which brings us back to that showcase in the Museum today), an ophicleide – an instrument with a cello tone; and a valve trombone – so common now that we think nothing of it – but a novelty in the 1860s.
George conducted the band, trained its players, selected and arranged its repertoire and followed his father’s example of attracting some of the greatest brass instrumentalists of the day, such as the ophicleide player Sam Hughes, the greatest ever British virtuoso of the instrument. Indeed, the repertoire Livsey created survives, and because it is handwritten and bespoke it testifies to how, and not just to what, the band played. It was eclectic and included transcriptions of complete symphonies by Europe’s greatest composers and it was George’s boast that this was the only brass band to play all four movements of a Beethoven Symphony, a feat carried out in Cardiff to great acclaim. Such is testimony both to the remarkable virtuosity and skill of the band’s players and to the guidance and vision of a sophisticated musical director.
The last decade of the 19th century saw the band slowly decline. The Cyfarthfa works were losing orders as steel replaced iron, and by 1890 the works were being run by a skeleton staff. In addition there was more musical competition – Merthyr by this time could boast three military bands, seven brass bands and several orchestras – and the band quietly faded away, their instruments being put into storage.
But, my friends, this is not the end of the story, although it is the end of the glory days. Merthyr Council, who had acquired the Castle and grounds in 1908, decided that a band would be just the ticket, and so approached George Livsey to reform it as a municipal band. This duly happened in 1909 and the band was regularly heard playing in the Cyfarthfa and Thomastown bandstands over the next few years.
But George was now a man in his 70s, and so the band’s leadership fell first to a Mr Harvey and then to a Mr Laverock, who was its conductor during the dark days of 1914 -18. And so the band played on, until the Depression of 1926 finally sounded its death toll, as it did for most Merthyr bands, the exception being that of the Salvation Army Band which stands as witness to its heritage.
So next time you are in the Museum, stop at the case which houses the instruments and look up at the painting of George Livsey which hangs nearby – and remember the contribution made by the gentlemen of the Cyfarthfa Band, and wonder at the heights that were achieved by this band of ironworkers.
The article transcribed below appeared in the Merthyr Express 80 years ago today (25 May 1940)….
SCHOOL CELLARS AT CYFARTHFA
SUGGESTED USE AS SHELTERS
A suggestion that some of the cellars at the Cyfarthfa Castle should be used as air raid shelters for pupils attending the Cyfarthfa Girls’ Secondary School in preference to the scheme of dispersal to the woods nearby, was put forward by Miss A.C. Davenport, B.Sc., the headmistress, at Wednesday’s meeting of the Merthyr Higher Education Committee.
Mr Andrew Wilson, J.P., the vice-chairman presided.
Miss Davenport said that she would like to use some of the cellars to accommodate the pupils in the event of an air raid, but she understood that permission to do so would have to be obtained from the Museum Committee. Parents were asking what arrangements were being made for the safety of the children, and she was very anxious about it. She had been advised that the cellars were the safest place, and she would like to give the girls practice in order that they would be calm and assured if an air raid did take place.
The school was about 10 minutes from the nearest house. It was either a question of sending the pupils out into the surrounding district or finding accommodation for them in the cellars, and she believed the latter course to be the better.
Mr B.J. Williams pointed out that the heads of the secondary schools were given an open hand to make their arrangements for the safety of the children. As far as the cellars under the museum and school were concerned, he could assure Miss Davenport that anything that could be done, would be done.
Mr Andrew Wilson: I understand that some of the valuable exhibits from the museum have been placed in these cellars.
Miss Davenport: Yes, I suppose they are more valuable than the human lives above.
Mr D. J. Davies, M.A., B.Sc., the headmaster of the Cyfarthfa Boys’ Secondary School, said that he supported Miss Davenport’s suggestion. If there was any accommodation in the cellars which was not required for another purpose he believed the schools should be allowed to use it. There were, however, about 300 girls and 300 boys of the schools and there would not be enough room for all of them in the cellars, but a hundred of the smallest pupils could be sent down there. He was quite prepared to let the girls use the corridors in the boys’ school. They had adopted the scheme of dispersal but he thought that the Castle provided such a target that dispersal to the woods would not be safe. He believed that the schools should be given assistance to dig trenches for added protection.
After further discussion it was decided to refer the matter to the special committee dealing with A.R.P. in schools.
A follow up article appeared in the Merthyr Express on 1 June 1940….
Cyfarthfa Cellars Not Fit For Shelters.
MISS DAVENPORT’S REMARK CRITICISED
A statement made last week at a meeting of the Higher Education Committee by Miss A. C. Davenport, B.SC., headmistress of Cyfarthfa Castle Girls Secondary School, on the provisions made for the pupils of her school in the event of an air raid evinced a reply from Mr F. T. James, chairman of the Museum Committee, at Tuesdays meeting of Merthyr Corporation.
The Mayor (Mr J. W Watkin, J.P.) presided.
It will be recalled that Miss. Davenport told the Higher Education Committee that she would like the use of some of the cellars underneath the Cyfarthfa Museum to accommodate the pupils during an air raid, but she understood that permission had to be obtained from the Museum Committee before that could be done. Mr Andrew Wilson, who presided at that meeting, said that he understood that valuable exhibits from the museum were stored in the cellars, and Miss Davenport replied that “she supposed that they were more valuable than human lives above.”
Referring to the matter on Tuesday, Mr F. T. James said that he had seen in the Merthyr Express that Miss Davenport had stated that she could not agree to the dispersal scheme system and would rather accommodate them in the cellars. She alleged, said Mr James, that the Museum Committee thought more of the storing of exhibits than the lives of the children.
“That is a most unwarrantable thing to say about my committee,” said Mr. James, who added that if it was desired to use the basement it could be done. If there was any committee to blame for not providing refuge for the girls, it was not the Museum Committee.
CELLARS NOT FIT
Mr Lewis Jones, chairman of the Higher Education Committee, told the Corporation that Mr W. T. Owen, M.A. (director of education), Mr A. J. Marshall (borough engineer) and he had visited the Museum that day, and after giving the matter due consideration he did not think that the cellars were fit to put the children in. If they put 200 children there it would be a “Black Hole of Calcutta,” and he could not recommend taking the children there. He would much prefer to see the children go into the woods near by. There was also a corridor in the school which could be used, and would be much safer than the cellars.
Prominent local historian, Joe England, editor of the book ‘Cyfarthfa School: The First 100 Years’ has confirmed that the cellars of the school were never converted for use as air-raid shelters, and luckily, Merthyr never actually had any need for shelters.
Many thanks to Tracy Barnard for transcribing these articles.
John Collins V.C., D.C.M., M.M. Plaque sited in the foyer of Cyfarthfa Castle Museum & Art Gallery Memorial Plinth in the grounds of St. Tydfil’s Church, Merthyr Tydfil
John Collins was born in West Hatch, Somerset in 1880 and came to Merthyr when he was about ten years old.
He fought in the Boer War and also served in India. In 1914 he joined the Welsh Regiment.
He won his Victoria Cross whilst serving in Palestine with the 25th Battalion, The Royal Welch Fusiliers. The citation states:
“…although isolated and under fire from snipers and guns, he showed throughout a magnificent example of initiative and fearlessness.”
Known as Jack the V.C., he died in 1951 and is buried in Pant Cemetery.
Over the past few months I’ve been working on a small project to re-house a war memorial from the First World War. The plaque commemorates three members of Elizabeth Street Presbyterian Church, Dowlais, who were killed during the war: Able Seaman David Albert Stephens; Private Archie Vincent Evans; and Second Lieutenant Thomas Glyn Nicholas.
The plaque was discovered in a second hand ‘junk’ sale, and together with my supervisor at the time at Swansea University, Dr Gethin Matthews, we applied for a collaborative research grant from the First World War Network to re-house the memorial as an exhibition at Cyfarthfa Castle, Merthyr.
The project has now been completed, with the exhibition being unveiled to the public on Saturday 4 May during an afternoon of talks on Merthyr and the First World War. Two information panels accompany the display of the plaque, along with the production of a small booklet with additional information on the three men and war memorials in general.
The first name that appears on the war memorial plaque is that of David Albert Stephens. After doing some research, we know now that Able Seaman D. Albert Stephens was killed in the largest sea battle of the war, at Jutland on 31 May 1916. Albert, originally from Llandovery, married Dowlais born Catherine and had two young children, Katie and Thomas. They were all bilingual and Albert worked as a stoker in the local iron works when war broke out.
At Jutland, Albert was a gunner on board HMS Invincible, part of Rear Admiral Horace Hood’s 3rd Battlecruiser Squadron, when it was hit in the turret amidships, which detonated the magazines below, caused a huge explosion, and split the ship in two before sinking. It took just 90 seconds for the Invincible to sink. Thousands of sailors perished at this fateful battle. Indeed, the Battle of Jutland involved around 100,000 men in 151 British and 99 German ships, and lasted 72 hours with over 8,000 shells fired. Only six out of 1,032 crew members of the Invincible survived, but Albert wasn’t one of them. His name also appears on Plymouth Naval Memorial.
Private Archie Vincent Evans is the second name on the memorial. Archie was born in 1892 in Treorchy to Thomas and Henrietta Evans. He had three younger brothers, Tom, Trevor, and Harold, and lived at Lower Union Street, having previously lived at Horse Street. Archie and his parents were bilingual, although his brothers were noted as English speaking only. His father, Thomas, was a restaurant owner and former rail inspector, while Archie himself worked as a grocer’s assistant with William Harris and Sons in Alma Street.
Archie served with the 9th Battalion, Royal Fusiliers, which was part of 36 Infantry Brigade, 12th (Eastern) Division. It appears he was conscripted to the army in 1916, and in October that year his battalion launched an attack at Le Transloy, just west of the village of Gueudecourt on the Somme. The attack was a total failure, the battalion losing 15 officers and 250 other ranks that day. Archie, just twenty-four years old, was killed in the attack. His name also appears on the Thiepval Memorial to the Missing of the Somme.
Second Lieutenant Thomas Glyn Nicholas is the last name on the memorial. The son of Thomas Richard and Mary Jane Nicholas, and brother of Rees and Dilys, Thomas was articled to the solicitors D. W. Jones and Co. before volunteering for service in the army. His father had been a clerk at Lloyd’s Bank. Thomas was educated at Merthyr County School and Worcester Grammar School and seemed set for a long career in the legal profession before the war began.
Following the outbreak of war, duty called for Thomas, and on 15 July 1915 he received his commission as a Second Lieutenant. He was assigned to the 18th Battalion (2nd Glamorgan) Welsh Regiment. This battalion was formed in Cardiff in January 1915 as a Bantam Battalion, a battalion which had lowered the minimum height requirement for recruits from five foot three to five feet. However, he was soon attached to the 14th Battalion (Swansea Pals) Welsh Regiment.
Thomas was part of a working party with the 14th Battalion when he was killed in February 1917 at East Canal Bank on the Ypres Salient. Thomas was the only man in the battalion killed or wounded that day. He was just twenty years old. He is buried in Bard Cottage, Belgium, and his name also appears on Merthyr County School’s own memorial.
The Merthyr Express reported Thomas’ death and quoted Lieutenant-Colonel J. H. Hayes, writing to Thomas’ parents: ‘His death will be a great loss to the battalion. He was always cheerful under all conditions, however bad they were. I looked upon him as one of my most promising young officers.’
Elizabeth Street Church remembers
After the war, state and civil institutions began to commemorate the dead. Cenotaphs were erected in many towns and cities, with London’s Whitehall Cenotaph, unveiled on 11 November 1920, providing an official site of remembrance for the British, and later Commonwealth, dead. Many of the public monuments built in towns and villages throughout Wales were subsequently based on Edwin Lutyens’ design of the Whitehall Cenotaph.
Churches, schools, clubs, and societies also honoured their members who were killed during the war. Around 35,000 Welshmen were killed during the First World War and many of them are remembered on plaques such as this, from Elizabeth Street Presbyterian Church, Dowlais.
David Albert Stephens, Archie Vincent Evans, and Thomas Glyn Nicholas were not the only members of their church to have served during the war.
In addition to several other members, the minister himself, the Reverend Thomas James, joined the Royal Army Medical Corps and served on both the French and Italian fronts.
This memorial plaque is representative of hundreds of chapels and churches across Wales which saw their members enlist in the forces during the First World War. The fact that so many Welshmen did not return home is testimony to the devastating impact of the war on communities across the country. In one church in Dowlais, it was felt deeply.