Tag: Robert Thompson Crawshay

A Lament for Sam Hughes – The Last Great Ophicleidist

By Professor Trevor Herbert

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.

The Cyfarthfa Band in the 1800s. Photo courtesy of http://www.alangeorge.co.uk/index.htm

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.

Sam Hughes’ ophicleide (left) at Cyfarthfa Museum

The above is a much shortened version of an article which appeared in edition No.87 of Planet, The Welsh Internationalist.

Merthyr’s Ironmasters: William Crawshay II

William Crawshay II. Photo courtesy of Cyfarthfa Museum and Art Gallery

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.

Caversham Park

Memories of Old Merthyr

We continue our serialisation of the memories of Merthyr in the 1830’s by an un-named correspondent to the Merthyr Express, courtesy of Michael Donovan.

A map by John Wood of Georgetown in 1836 showing the area (George Street) covered in this article.

In a cottage in the row, say 6 or 8 doors up, there was an old blind man, Thomas Evans, who had been a hammerman at Cyfarthfa. He was of the scientific society at the ‘Dynevor’, and was pleased if anyone would sit and read to him (this said advisedly and from experience).

Two dwellings followed owned by Mr David Williams (known as Williams of Pontyrhun). He was a widower, and had a family of two sons and two daughters. One of the later kept a school, but became Mrs John Jones (druggist etc.) of Aberdare. One of the sons, John, was the editor of the Silurian paper, which started at Brecon in the Whig interest, to whom the late Mr Peter Williams, of the Merthyr Telegraph, was apprenticed. The other son emigrated to Australia.

At the top, not many doors from the gate house, Mr Thomas Shepherd, then the cashier at Cyfarthfa Works lived. He removed to Navigation House after the death of Mr George Forrest, and then became superintendent of the Glamorganshire Canal.

Restarting from the bridge and crossing the tramroad, some short distance up on the left, a Mr Walter Morgan resided. He had been brought up as a solicitor, but was then in the brewery business. The brewery was situated behind the house, and had entrance from a road at the back.

An extract from the 1851 Public Health Map showing a more detailed view of the area in question. Mr Morgan’s Brewery (by 1851 called the Ship Brewery) is marked.

Mr Morgan had two daughters and one son. The eldest married, but her painfully sudden death seemed to show that she was not happy. The youngest became Mrs Macnamara, wife of a barrister, who became judge of one of the East Indian courts. Her brother, who also was a barrister, became the same, but whether both were in Calcutta or elsewhere cannot be recalled.

The ascent was steep shortly after passing Mr Morgan’s residence. A Captain Oakey lived in residence on the left and overlooked the flat portion of Georgetown etc. He had been at sea for many years and then lived retired.

Upon Mr Crawshay – the grandfather of the present generation – buying a lot of old stores from Woolwich, they were sent to Cyfarthfa to be manufactured into bar iron, and there were some pieces of ordnance as well as round balls amongst the lot. Mr Robert Thompson Crawshay had one at least of the cannons taken to the tip above Nantygwenith and fired them (for I think there was more than one). The good old captain, who was enjoying his siesta upon the first firing and stretched upon his sofa, from association of his past life rolled himself off the sofa and on to the floor. So strange is habit.

Hill House – the home of Captain Oakey. Hill House was later the home of several generations of the Williams Family for many years. Photo courtesy of the Alan George Archive

Above Captain Oakey’s was the house occupied by Mr Jeffries, the blast furnace manager at Cyfarthfa. There were then no other houses except an isolated cottage or two until Penyrheolgerrig was come to.

To be continued at a later date……

How well do you know Merthyr? The answers

Here are the answers to the questions I posed you last week. How did you do?

  1. What was the name of St Tydfil’s father?

King Brychan Brycheiniog

  1. Who founded the Cyfarthfa Ironworks in 1765?

Anthony Bacon

  1. Who was Merthyr’s first Labour M.P.?

James Keir Hardie

  1. What was the name of the first chapel to be built in Merthyr town?

Ynysgau Chapel

  1. What was the name of the pub that Lord Nelson stayed in when he visited Merthyr in 1800?

The Star Inn in Caedraw

  1. Nixonville in Merthyr Vale is named after whom?

John Nixon, the founder of Merthyr Vale Colliery

  1. Who has ‘God Forgive Me’ inscribed on his grave?

Robert Thompson Crawshay

  1. Where was the Olympia Skating Rink?

In Pontmorlais, just further up than the Theatre Royal

  1. Which Merthyr-born boxer won the WBC World featherweight title in 1968?

Howard Winstone

  1. Where would you find St Matthias Church?

Treharris

  1. The Bwthyn Bach Inn is missing from the Old Merthyr Tydfil list of pubs, where was it situated?

At the corner of what was known as the Broad Pavement, opposite was the name given to a street built behind the Palace Cinema.

  1. Where was Tai Harri Blawd?

Behind the Theatre Royal and bordering the old Tramroad

  1. What is the area known as Daniel’s Waterloo?

The area now known as the Grove

  1. Where was the Merthyr Tydfil clay pipe factory?

In Vaughan Street, Caedraw

  1. What did the factory next to Factory Cottages make?

Factory Cottages were alongside the old Drill Hall and given this name as they adjoined a flannel factory.

  1. How did Storey Arms get its name?

The first landlord there was a Mr Storey

  1. Where was Pendwranfach?

A narrow street by the Fountain …… turn left at the bottom of the High Street

  1. What is the real name of the pub often called The Spite?

The Farmer’s Arms, Mountain Hare

  1. Who was Miss Florence Smithson and what building is she associated with?

A famous actress associated with the Theatre Royal

  1. Why was an area by St Tydfil’s Church named Lle Sais?

Its name is derived from the fact that most of the English people brought in to the area to work in the Penydarren Ironworks lived here

The Cyfarthfa Band

by Laura Bray

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.

The Cyfarthfa Band on the steps of Cyfarthfa Castle in the 1800s. Photo courtesy of http://www.alangeorge.co.uk/index.htm

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’s grave in St Tydfil’s Churchyard

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.

An ophicleide from the Cyfarthfa Band

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.

The Cyfarthfa Band at the Cyfarthfa Bandstand. Photo courtesy of http://www.alangeorge.co.uk/index.htm

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 portrait of George Livsey that hangs in Cyfarthfa Museum. Courtesy of Cyfarthfa Castle Museum & Art Gallery

Memories of Old Merthyr

We continue our serialisation of the memories of Merthyr in the 1830’s by an un-named correspondent to the Merthyr Express, courtesy of Michael Donovan.

We must, however, return to the Canton Tea Shop opposite Castle Street, and keep up that side of the road. There were but few shops on that side, the majority being cottages. There was no opening through to the tram road, but courts of some kind existed. The large chapel (Pontmorlais Chapel) was building or about being finished, and next above was a coal yard of the Dowlais Company, chiefly for the supply of coal to their own workmen. Mr John Roberts had charge there, I should say, perhaps, that the coal was brought down by the old tramroad, and there was a short branch into the yard from it.

Some ten or a dozen cottages intervened between the cottage of the coal yard and the one that projected towards the road. This had a few poplar trees around it, and was years after, I cannot say how long previously, occupied by Mr Morgan, a stone and monumental mason, now in business on Brecon Road.

Morgan’s Stonemason’s in Pontmorlais. Photo courtesy of http://www.alangeorge.co.uk/index.htm

On the upper side of this was an opening to the tramroad, which was not above 80 or 100 feet from the High Street, and then a painter and glazier’s shop kept by Mr Lewis, who afterwards removed a short distance into the Brecon Road, and the shop became that of a saddler (Powell by name). Adjoining this was the Morlais Castle Inn, of which Mr & Mrs Gay were the host and hostess. Mr E. R. Gay, the dentist, of High Street, is the youngest, and it is thought, the only survivor of the family, which consisted of three boys and two girls.

A narrow shop intervened and the turnpike gate was reached. Only a few yards beyond a cast iron bridge spanned the Morlais Brook. On the left a person named Miles lived. His son, Dr Miles, increased its size and subsequently practised there.

One road now leads off to Dowlais, and the other towards Brecon Road, or as it was generally called, the Grawen, but immediately in front is a wall 10 or 12 feet high there, but as the road on either side ascends is tapered down on both sides. The old Tramroad from the Dowlais and Penydarren Works to their wharves on the Canal side near Pontstorehouse ran over this embankment, and a cottage nestling in the trees there was occupied by Mr Rees Jones. No other residence of this kind existed on the Penydarren Park except the house itself and its three lodges. At one time there were some steps leading up to the Park near the turning and junction of roads, one going to the Grawen and the other going to Pontstorehouse, but that gap was built up, and the only public entrance then became that close to the Lodge in Brecon Road by the pond.

The old steps leading to Penydarren Park (now the site of the Y.M.C.A. Photo courtesy of http://www.alangeorge.co.uk/index.htm

To be continued at a later date……

Merthyr’s Bridges: The Brandy Bridge – part 1

The ‘Brandy Bridge’ as it is commonly known, is actually, historically three separate bridges.

The ‘First Brandy Bridge’, commissioned by Anthony Hill, was built immediately below Brandy Bridge Junction in 1861, to carry the Plymouth Ironworks Tramway over the River Taff, Taff Vale Railway and Plymouth Railway. It was a square span in three sections; the main section was over the river and was about 80ft long, made up of two wrought iron plate-girders mounted on a masonry pier on the east side and a masonry abutment on the west.

The ‘First Brandy Bridge’ in the 1960s

After the closure of the Plymouth Ironworks in 1880, the bridge began to fall into disrepair, but was still used by pedestrians going to and from Abercanaid whilst a new bridge was being built 100 yards upstream.

Plans for the ‘Second Brandy Bridge’ had been discussed as early as 1857. In August of that year, a committee, consisting of among others Robert Thompson Crawshay, Anthony Hill & G T Clark was set up by the Local Board of Health to consider building a bridge across the Taff to Abercanaid, as up until then, the only pedestrian access to the village was via a ford called the Plymouth Crossing.

A section of the 1851 Ordnance Survey Map showing the Plymouth Crossing

By 1870 however, a bridge still hadn’t been built, much to the understandable exasperation of the population of Abercanaid. On 22 January 1870, the villagers held a public meeting where a proposition was made that “the first and surest way to obtain a bridge and a road to Abercanaid is by memorialising the Local Board of Health, and that this meeting has great confidence in the present Board that they will take prompt and active measures to obtain for us – a bridge”.

By 6 August the committee had investigated several sites but were all vetoed due to expense, until a site, at the old Plymouth Crossing was agreed upon. The total price for the new bridge was estimated to be between £400 and £500, and the committee approached the Taff Valley Railway Company for a contribution. The committee had not, however, prepared for the ensuing pettiness and inflexibility of the various landowners affected by the building of a new bridge and road.

It would be 10 years before the petty wrangling had been ironed out, and on 7 August 1880, the Local Board of Health, following an interview with the Taff Vale Railway Company, who were planning to expand their network, estimated that a new bridge would cost £1,600, with the railway company offering £600 towards the project. Further disagreements followed with the committee for the building of the bridge insisting that the Taff Valley Railway Company should pay a higher percentage of the cost.

The negotiations continued for two years until an agreement was finally reached, and it wasn’t until 1883 that work finally began on the bridge.

Samuel Harpur, Engineer and Surveyor of the Local Board of Health, was put in charge of the construction of the new bridge, and a contract was given to J Jones to deal with the excavation and stonework. The construction of the bridge itself was entrusted to The Cleveland Bridge and Engineering Company of Darlington who designed, built and erected the bridge which was 12 foot wide and made of steel lattice-work girders and steel cross-members. The bridge was opened late in 1883.

The ‘Second Brandy Bridge’. Photo courtesy of the Alan George Archive

To be continued…..

A History of St Gwynno’s Church, Vaynor – part 2

by Ena Moreton

Many thanks to Hywel George, administrator of the Cynon Culture website for allowing me to use this article.

The land for a new building was given by Mrs Mary Williams of Penrhadwy. Vaynor, and work was about to start when Robert Thomson Crawshay, ironmaster at Cyfarthfa, four miles away, offered to build the church at his expense if the money already raised by the congregation, about £700, was put towards what is now St John’s in Cefn Coed. For many years this church was known as St Gwendoline’s, a mistaken dedication caused by confusion among scholars over Welsh and English usage.

A postcard of St Gwynno’s Church from the early 20th Century. Photo courtesy of the Alan George Archive

Father Silas Morgan Harris (1888-1982) corrected the name whose scholarship embraced the Welsh saints and the history of mediaeval Welsh church. St Gwynno appears to have been Abbot Gwynno, born either in 487 or 507, whose feast day falls on October 22 and one of that company of Celtic saints who travelled spreading Christianity throughout these lands. In Scotland he is known as Guinochus and also credited with founding Plouhinec in Britanny and Kilglin in Co. Meath in Ireland. A contemporary view of St Gwynno can be seen in the fine bas relief near the entrance; He is shown with his shepherd’s crook and the invocation ‘St Guinoce, OPN’ – his Latin name and initials of Latin invocation Ora Pro Nobis (Pray for Us). The sculpture is signed AJJA, work of Arthur Ayres, winner of the Prix de Rome 1931 whose works can be seen in major international permanent exhibitions.

This work is in memory of Canon William Henry Harris (1884-1956), elder brother of Father Silas. Both were born in Pontsticill and firmly on the Anglo-Catholic wing of the Church. Canon Harris, known as Father Bill, was professor of Welsh at Lampeter, precentor of the chapel and canon treasurer of St David’s Cathedral. Continuing the family connection, the stained-glass window opposite, depicting the Blessed Virgin and Child, was given by the Harris brothers in memory of their mother, Ann, and is inscribed in Welsh with a line from the Hail Mary “Blessed art Thou amongst women”. The figure of the guardian angel further down the church could not be more distinctively Victorian. The angel is in memory of the four daughters and two sons of the Williams family at Penrhadwy, whose mother gave land for the church. All died in quick succession in their twenties and early thirties in the 11 years between 1859 and 1870.

The angel is by Joseph Edwards, Merthyr-born sculptor whose works are also to be found in Westminster Abbey. He was born in 1814, son of a stone-cutter, and is said to have been in love with one of the Penrhadwy daughters. The angel is reputed to have been modelled on her; one of the final three works in a career that saw 70 of his sculptures exhibited at Royal Academy.

The altar and reredos, with its carved woodwork and panelling, date from 1912 given in memory of Herbert Kirkhouse (died 1904, aged 72) a mining engineer at Cyfarthfa Works who married Maria Teresa, one of the Penrhadwy daughters. Maria Teresa is commemorated in the oak font, given by her son in 1930.The present St Gwynno’s was completed in 1868 a year before consecration by Dr Ollivant Bishop of Llandaff, standing in for Dr. Thirlwell, Bishop of St David’s.

The churchyard is noted for the grave of Robert Thomson Crawshay, the church’s benefactor, with its 11-ton granite slab inscribed ‘God Forgive Me.’ There are also graves of people at the lead edge when Merthyr was at the height of its industrial power, though many have been lost to the march of time.

The vegetation on the steep slope running down to the banks of Taf Fechan is now sanctuary to wild life, plant and animal; a protected nature reserve. Speed was not a speciality of Gruffydd Shon, the old bachelor, whose lady love tired of waiting for him and married a farmer. Gruffydd who died of a broken heart composed his own epitaph that existed as late as 1870 but vanished when his gravestone was broken during demolition of the old church. It read:

Here lies the body of Gruffydd Shon
Covered here with earth and stone
You may sweep it up or leave it alone
It will be just the same to Gruffydd Shon.

In the 140 or so years since St Gwynno’s re-build it has shown signs of strain. In 1969 the church tower on the verge of collapse was taken down and remodelled with a new steeple costing £2000. In the 1980s the church was re-roofed with pantiles as near the original as possible; in the late 1990s the internal floor was replaced and whilst work was going on services were held in Pontsticill village hall; the churches own parish hail having been sold in a few years earlier. For most of its 1200 years St Gwynno’s was mother church for the scattered farms and cottages of Vaynor. When Dolygaer reservoir was completed in 1862 and work began on Taf Fechan reservoir in 1910, Pontsticill, the village that originated as home to those involved in the water industry, grew up a mile from the church where many of its congregation now live. The only other building in the immediate vicinity is the Church Tavern, built in 1823, which started life as a Court where law was administered and later became a celebrated local hostelry until its conversion into a house in 2000.

Below are two recent photos of St Gwynno’s Church – Old and New.

To read the original article, please visit: http://cynonculture.co.uk/wordpress/merthyr-tydfil/history-of-st-gwynnos-church-vaynor/

The Decline of Merthyr

In 1859, the Penydarren Ironworks closed. 160 years ago today (26 February 1859), the remarkable article transcribed below, written in anticipation of the closure appeared in the Merthyr Telegraph. It makes fascinating reading as the language used is so striking and almost poetic…a far cry from today’s brand of journalism.

Over the thresholds of a thousand houses stream the long and darkening shadows which forerun events of a stern and saddening character. In a few months that fierce light which so long has glared around Penydarren will be invisible, and the incessant clang of iron and harsh vibrations of monster machinery will no longer be heard. Penydarren works will belong to the past.

For several weeks the inhabitants of this town and neighbourhood heard of the rumoured sale of Penydarren works with incredulity. They could not believe that so great an establishment would be broken up, the works fall into decay, and the men scattered to the four winds of heaven. Yet, at last, the dread truth has forced itself upon our convictions, and we now doubt not that the end of Penydarren is at hand.

The Dowlais Iron Co., holding large works on the extreme edge of the mineral basin, have been for some time progressing with less than its usual vigour in consequence of a deficient supply of mine and coal. It is true new pits have been sunk at Cwmbargoed, but it will be two or three years before they will begin to yield, the enormous depth forbidding any earlier success, though the men are incessantly employed. Thus it became a serious consideration with the Trustees, where, and by what means, the requisite supply should be obtained from to meet the demand. The adjoining mine and coal field of the Penydarren Co. and the known desire of Mr. W. Forman to part with it, offered a solution of the difficulty, and hence, after a consultation and discussion by the principals of each place, one has been merged into the other, and Dowlais has become worthier even than before of being styled the largest iron-works in the world.

We may anticipate that on the opening of the new mill – a mill unequalled in the locality, a large number of additional workmen will be employed; the miners and colliers also may be expected to continue working as usual; but, we apprehend, there will still be many unemployed, and the change will tend to deteriorate the value of house property considerably in Penydarren, and the upper part of Merthyr, from Pontmorlais to Tydfil’s Well. There can be no doubt but that there will be much suffering in one way or another. Young men, full of vigour, may try their fortunes elsewhere broad shoulders and muscular arms will never fail to obtain their owners bread and cheese, but the old men, the semi-pensioners, the half used up veterans, cannot be expected to seek a subsistence in other districts, cannot be expected but to crawl, feeble worn-out beings, into the last resort of humble life – the Workhouse.

In addition to this, the first step towards a decline, we see evidences around us of a gloomy character. The lease of the Dowlais works is said to last only during the minority of the Marquis of Bute. When he comes of age a new lease, under new and perhaps impossible conditions, may be required.

It is also rumoured, on what authority we know not, that the Plymouth iron-works are for sale, and no one, acquainted with Mr. Hill, will hear this without fearing that the change of ownership, by whomsoever made, cannot be for the benefit of the workmen. No matter how good the next employer may be, new brooms have a tendency to sweep clean, and brush away old and good usages, pensions, perquisites and benefits to an alarming extent.

Again, at the Cyfarthfa works things wear an alarming aspect. The lease is yet unsettled. Mr. Crawshay has stated the sum he will give, and we all know that he will abide by his word, and blow out the whole of the furnaces rather than yield. And let us add that were Mr. Crawshay, unfortunately for us all, to be succeeded by another, we might find the system of iron-making on the hills introduced into Cyfarthfa, with its attendant Truck shops, which, God forbid for the sake of poor humanity! To this Truck the Crawshays have ever been firm opponents, much to their honour and the welfare of the town.

All these shadows warn us to be prepared for coming evils – to be on the alert towards lessening the trials of disastrous times – to prepare our several homes against the menacing storm.

Merthyr is a town called into existence by the discovery of the minerals underneath. With their exhaustion it fades as rapidly as it rose.

In these facts we trace the presages of decline. The tree which resists the skill of the gardener may exist for a time, unimproving, unprogressive, but when the storm comes the resistance is but weak, and beneath the tempest it falls!