It was a memorable moment, this week, to see the Shrine Church in Walsingham able to open its doors for private prayer, and the smiles of the Priest Administrator as he turned the key says it all. I know that many people have loved to take part in the live streaming of Shrine Prayers at 6pm every day, although this year we shall miss out on our annual pilgrimage from South Wales. At the heart of the Shrine of Our Lady of Walsingham is the Holy House of Nazareth, a replica of that home where Mary lived, and in which she was greeted by the angel as highly favoured, and shown to be a loving servant of God as she embraced his plans for her and the world.
Many of us have enjoyed being able to open up our church buildings over the last few weeks, and throughout the months of lockdown there has been much discussion about the purpose of church buildings – after all, you don’t need to go to a church building to pray, do you? Of course, you don’t!
I’m often uncomfortable by the term ‘going to church’ (although I have used and do use it myself) and the fact that the word ‘church’ has been used and confused for both the people and a stone structure doesn’t help. Perhaps, we need to think more of our buildings as being ‘the house of the church’, a place where the church gathers, a shared space, a meeting point with one another and with God – as together we celebrate the Eucharist and other celebrations, physically present to one another.
Who would live in a house live this?
Like any house or home, the building is almost an extension of who dwells there, and so when we peruse particular church buildings it can tell us so much about the community which gathers there, and that’s no different for St Mary’s. Wander through St Mary’s Church and you’ll find the clues of what kind of people live in a house like this.
At the heart of many a ‘house of the church’ is the Tabernacle, where the abiding presence of Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament dwells. Just as the Shrine Church at Walsingham is home to another house, the Holy House of Nazareth, so too our church buildings are home to another house – the Tabernacle – in which is placed the Blessed Sacrament of the Altar.
Since we have been allowed to open for private prayer, here at St Mary’s we have opened not just the doors of the church but the doors of the tabernacle. Even though we cannot share in the Eucharist of the Lord we are drawn into his Eucharistic presence, and the ‘house of the church’ becomes, once again, a meeting point with the Divine.
The Tent of Meeting
I love the litanies of the church, and the litanies of Mary are particularly beautiful as we move to the gentle rhythm of their beating prayer. One of Mary’s titles, tripped off the tongue in these litanies, is ‘Tabernacle of the Lord.’ Her own body becomes a Shrine for Jesus, a dwelling place of the Lord, a tent of meeting, a tabernacle.
We can only delve into the depths of what ‘Tabernacle’ means through our Jewish heritage and the life of the Old Testament. As the liberated People of Israel dawdled in the desert for four decades, they stopped along the way to pitch camp and erect their tents. At the heart of their camp and the most important tent was the Tabernacle, the Tent of Meeting, in which was placed the Ark of the Covenant, the assurance of God’s presence, the place where he dwelt among them within the Holy of Holies. (Exodus 25–31 and 35–40)
Perhaps it’s no accident that the chapels in our churches known as the Lady Chapel often, too, serve as our Blessed Sacrament Chapels. In fact, on the front of the Tabernacle here at St Mary’s is a beautiful painting of the Annunciation, that moment of Mary’s Yes, the moment of the Incarnation, when Jesus takes flesh of the Virgin Mary, becomes present within her, creating a Tabernacle of the Lord.
And so, during these times of restrictions, the doors of ‘the house of the church’ and the doors of the Tabernacle are opened wide. We are drawn into the presence of God and one another, discovering that God is before and above us, around and within us, praying that we too may be a worthy dwelling place for the Lord, a Tent of Meeting, a Tabernacle, that place of encounter with Jesus who has come to live among us.
At the moment, we are open each day: Sunday at 11am, Monday to Friday at 6pm, Saturday at 11am for private prayer before the Blessed Sacrament.
St Mary’s has a rich past and present. Home to a vibrant community of faith, we also have stories to tell and share, and we want to offer more and more of our resources to local schools and others. So, here’s the first of many resources to come which we hope may be of benefit in teaching and learning!
A PDF version of the document is available so do get in touch if you would like a copy!
Whilst we may feel a little like we’re standing still at the moment, it may be difficult to get to grips with being a Pilgrim People! Pilgrimage, though, is as much about stopping as it is about moving on – after all, most long journeys require at least a refreshment stop! So, whilst some things have stopped or taken on a different form, here’s time to look back on what happened last year with our Annual Report for 2019!
Financial Report for the year ending December 2019
Our tenth article of faith is a small stone plaque in the north-west corner of St Mary’s Church in memory of ‘Henry James Thatcher’, a plaque which unfolds the story of a man of enthusiastic faith, committed friendship and an eye for precision!
A fallen grave stone
We found it quite by accident, the grave of Henry James Thatcher. We were in Cathays Cemetery to clean the gravestone of Fr Griffith Arthur Jones in preparation for prayer on the anniversary of his death during the 175th anniversary of St Mary’s Church.
There, beyond his grave, was a fallen stone and, inscribed upon it, a name familiar to those of us who had read the biography of Fr Jones, or who had taken note of the plaques fixed to the walls of the church.
We knew Mr Thatcher to be a longstanding Churchwarden, thirty years in all, an office he held through difficult divisive years of reform in the parish in the late nineteenth century. We knew him, too, to be a friend of Fr Jones.
Likewise, the scant script of the memorial tablet in St Mary’s informed us that he was an Altar Server, Secretary to the Llandaff Diocesan Lay Readers Association and a member of the Cardiff Church Committee, whatever that meant.
But it’s time now, perhaps, to discover more about this man whose fallen grave stone marks the place of his rest, next to that of his dear friend and priest.
A friend of Father Jones
The first familiar words we have from Henry Thatcher are from the biography mentioned above, words he shared with another friend and churchwarden, Edwin Dobbins, written on behalf of the congregation of St Mary’s Jubilee Year and the 21st anniversary of Fr Jones’ Incumbency.
“We desire in presenting the address to express our great love and esteem for you, our admiration of your personal character, and our hearty appreciation of the services you have rendered to the Catholic Church especially in our parish. We trust you may be long spared under God’s blessing to be our Pastor, and assuring you of our continued love and duty.”
Fr Jones valued many close friendships, two of whom were those longstanding churchwardens, and for many years it was their custom to enjoy an annual outing together. “These little excursions were greatly enjoyed by all three, and much looked forward to by the churchwardens. They both appreciated the Vicar’s joyous spirits, and recognized how at the same time he was always anxious to say his Mass every Sunday when he was away on these holidays.”
Living as he did in 3, Glossop Terrace, just around the corner from Fr Jones’ retirement home in Longcross Street, Adamsdown, he was there right to the end of his friend’s life in this world, and “spent all his spare time in the sick room.”
A clear vision
He must have had a steady hand, an eye for detail, a mind acquainted with the scientific art of precision. From his “commodious premises” and “well-appointed shop” at 107, Bute Street, Thatcher measured time as a watchmaker and chronometer, and helped steer ships through stormy seas as ‘An adjuster of Iron Ships’ Compasses.”
A jeweller, too, there are several newspaper reports of burglaries and thefts from his shop. On one occasion, two young lads received a fourteen day prison sentence for stealing a couple of watches and trying to sell them in Neath! His craft extended, too, to making spectacles, an Optician’s trade up his sleeve, helping people to see a little clearer.
Perhaps then, with all this craft, he was well suited to life at St Mary’s, helping to steer things through a changing scene, riding the storm, having a clear vision.
A thoroughly practical master
In 1880, there were around 26 watchmakers and only 8 Chronometer Makers in Cardiff. The business run by Mr Thatcher then had actually been established in 1819 by Samuel Marks, with Thatcher trading a little higher up the street from a smaller premises since 1869.
Incidentally, Samuel Marks along with his brother, Mark, were sons of Michael Marks who was one of the first Jewish arrivals in Cardiff from Neath. He established a premises first in Angel Street (now Westgate Street) and finally registered as Marks and Co at 11 Bute Road. He became well known in the Docks. and signed a petition against the rival Barry Dock scheme. He died at the age of 83, and it was to Samuel, Mark and Solomon Marks to whom the Marquess of Bute donated land at Highfield for a Jewish cemetery. There is a memorial in the cemetery to Samuel in gratitude for his services to the Jewish Community.
Thatcher bought the business from Solomon Marks in 1876 and “conducted it with great ability and success, fully maintaining the high reputation it has so long enjoyed.” In 1893, it was believed to be “the oldest of its kind in Cardiff . . . patronised by the Portuguese Government, and by a large and important nautical connection.” (The Ports of the Bristol Channel, Wales and the West, London Printing and Engraving Co. 1893)
His shop had “a large and valuable stock of chronometers, watches, clocks, opera and field glasses, marine glasses, compasses, and all manner of nautical instruments, charts, and stationery.”
He was described as “a thoroughly practical master of his scientific trade, and employs an efficient staff of skilled hands, all work being done on the premises under his own careful personal supervision.”
“Everything supplied at this establishment is of first-class quality, and besides selling his own reliable and approved chronometers, Mr. Thatcher is agent for all the principal chronometer-makers, so that any well-known make can be at once obtained through him.”
At some point he had also worked alongside his brother, the wonderfully named Cornelius Octavius Thatcher. The ‘Thatcher Brothers” Partnership was dissolved by them in October 1872, with Cornelius continuing to work as a ‘Music and Musical Instrument Seller’ and as a ‘Teacher of Music’ trading from 4, Montgomery Terrace, Roath.
The supreme gift
For someone like me who, at 16 years old, received a School Report comment from his Biology teacher that he “tends to be over opinionated at times,” I rather like the reports of Mr Thatcher.
“Every character has the defects of its qualities,” wrote Canon Beck (Vicar of Roath and Rural Dean) in an obituary of Thatcher after his death in January 16, 1916. “A critic can easily find occasions when zeal outruns discretion. And quite certainly Mr. Thatcher’s utterances were not always as balanced as might have been.”
“Still, for me,” continued Beck, “all defects were obliterated by that supreme gift: enthusiasm. It is surely a gift which Churchmen specially need to-day.”
‘A splendid adventure’
We can only wonder how many children and young people he enthused as a long standing Superintendent of the Sunday School at St Michael’s, a Mission church of St Mary’s at Mount Stuart Square. In 1907, the Bible Classes treated him and his assistant Superintendent (Mr E.W. Edwards) to a complimentary dinner to thank them for their work They responded to their gratitude and generosity in a thank you speech when they “expressed their pleasure they felt in meeting so many Docks boys.”
“For most parishes at the moment do not require a series of quiet days nearly as much as a series of religious earthquakes. We have to make the present generation realise that Christianity is after all a most splendid adventure, and that the Christian religion can bring into men’s lives the highest satisfaction and joy,” wrote Canon Beck.
“And I’m sure that we never accomplish this, till we have caught something of that flame of enthusiasm which was the marked feature the character him whom many of us will never forget.”
Once, when Dean Vaughan’s “refined sensitiveness had been shocked by some excited speech” of Thatcher, he remarked .“What a sweet voice Mr. Thatcher has!”
The political world
“The political world of the city knew something of his ardour and energy, he was a keen educationalist, and a regular attendant at the meetings of the Church Schools Grouped Committee,” wrote Canon Beck.
A chairman of Adamsdown Conservative Club, Thatcher was also a Councillor and, in one of the anti-church newspaper reports, he is doubly described as “The Ritualist and Tory Candidate.”
“But behind and beneath all these other interests was his consuming interest in things directly spiritual and religious,” said Beck. “And I should say without any hesitation that his most effective work was done as churchwarden at St. Mary’s and Secretary from their foundation, I think, of the Llandaff Lay Readers’ Association and the Cardiff Church Committee.”
Waifs and Strays
“He was an exceptionally good reader of the lessons in church,” his obituary reads, “and many a cleric might have learned much from him in this. It would be no easy task to enumerate the meetings he has addressed or the demonstrations he has organised.!
When he died, a fund for the Spiritual Training of Lay Readers was established by his friends and colleagues.
Thatcher served as Honorary Local Secretary of the Waifs and Strays Society (which eventually became, many years later, The Children’ Society and which, in 1900, had over 2,800 children under its care.
As a member of the ‘Cottage Homes Committee’ he was caught up in the charge of Proselytism, when certain young people living in the Taff Embankment (Church of England) Houses and who had been attending St Paul’s Sunday school in Grangetown were now, so it seemed, attending one of the Mission church of St Mary’s.
In the course of the newspaper report, Thatcher said he was in favour of St Mary’s Mission room upon the ground that the children lived in the parish, and insisted they be sent to the National rather than the Board School. Although defeated by vote, Thatcher we are told “did not yield from the stand he had taken.”
Members objected to him “introducing questions of creed and denominational teaching” but Thatcher was a strong advocate of the National Schools – run by the church and where religion could be freely taught – rather than the Board Schools, and he was able to contribute to this as a member of the Cardiff Church Committee.
As a member of the ‘Cardiff Workhouse Visiting Committee,’ a group which both highlighted conditions in the workhouse and showed care and compassion for the wellbeing of its “inmates.” During one meeting to plan for the Christmas celebrations, he stood firm, and insisted that, amongst all the fare of the table, beer should also be offered! The motion was passed, as was another to provide lemonade too!
Henry Thatcher married Clara, the daughter of Cardiff Shipbuilder, Thomas W.H. Plain who traded under the company name of Davis and Plain. Plain lived at 30 Park Place where he also died at the age of 80 years on 12 January 1908. Born in Pembrokeshire, Plain moved to Cardiff at around 20 years old, starting in business in the ship repairing trade but eventually became a shipowner, specialising in Channel Cutters – rigged small sailing craft which doubled up as both fishing and pilot boats.
A Conservative in politics and a staunch Churchman, for more than two decades he was a member and chairman of the Cardiff Board of Guardians which administered the Poor Law,
Yet after 20 years “he was rejected by the electorate. There was no reason for this, no good cause, but the excuse given was that he was too just in the matter of giving relief. He believed in investigating every case thoroughly,” reported the Cardiff Times, 18 January 1908
It is touching, perhaps, that the grave of Henry James Thatcher sits so close to that of his friend, and somewhat sad to see the stone cross lying broken on its back, stitched almost into the grass.
He had been of immense benefit to the transformations brought by Fr Jones, and is a reminder to us of how important friendship is, especially in the service of the gospel – and, in that service, to have something of the enthusiasm exhibited by Mr Thatcher!
At his Ascension into Heaven, Jesus gives a simple instruction to his apostles: to stay in Jerusalem and wait for the Power from on High which he had promised.
And so they return to that Upper Room in which they have already experienced so much. It was the room in which they gathered on that fragile night, when Jesus broke bread, when he stooped to wash their feet, and when they were struck to the heart by the thought of betrayal.
From that room, they moved to Gethsemane’s olive garden, where Jesus prays so intensely, and where he is taken from them, betrayed by a kiss. They return to the room after Jesus is crucified, and lock themselves away in fear. And it is in that room, gathered on the first day of the week, that Jesus appears to them and, where a week later, they are joined by Thomas who declares in the presence of Jesus, ‘My Lord and my God!’
Ands so they return again, after they have witnessed him raised to the heights of heaven, to dedicate themselves to prayer, to wait—not in fear, not with doubts – but to wait upon the Holy Spirit. On Pentecost Sunday, when Jerusalem is packed with people, drawn from all over the world, they feel the earth move, their lives move. They leave that room, filled with faith, confident in Christ, a new creation, to proclaim to all that Jesus Christ is Lord to the glory of God the Father.
Nine days of prayer
From Ascension to Pentecost we are invited to do the same. Many of us have no choice but to , figuratively speaking, ‘stay in Jerusalem.’ And so, during these nine days we are invited to dedicate ourselves more intently to prayer, so that Spirit-filled, we may proclaim by word and deed, that Jesus is our Lord and our God.
The church’s daily prayer continues as it always does—wherever that may be—and, despite not being able to gather for Mass, we continue to be enriched and sustained by its offering, for it is through the Eucharist that we plead to God and trust only in the Death and Resurrection of the Lord. And we can and do pray in many other different ways too.
As Mary and the Apostles stayed in Jerusalem to pray together for nine days, so we can do something of the same. During those nine days, in addition to Mass and the usual prayer of the Church, the rosary will be prayed here each day. If you would like to share some prayer intentions then please forward them by telephone, text or email (my contact details are on the back page).
Perhaps you will be ale to commit yourself to the same, whether or not it’s the rosary, or to some moment of prayer, perhaps using some of the prayers and resources in these pages? Whether or not we are physically together, we continue to be united in Christ, and pray for a fresh and vivid experience of Power from on High.
Like many industrialised towns of South Wales, boxing was a popular sport and pastime, and the 19th and 20th century allowed renowned figures such as ‘Peerless’ Jim Driscoll and Joe Erskine to emerge from the docks area of Cardiff just as they did from other parts of Cardiff and the South Wales valleys.
One of those champions was Pat Thomas, a winner of multiple titles in two different weights during the 1970s and 1980s. Later, he worked as a trainer, and established Tiger Bay Amateur Boxing Club in 1984.
In 2018, Thomas suggested that the Club be re-established and it’s now run by Wasim Said, a mixed martial artist from Butetown.
Quite apart from creating sporting greats, activities like boxing does much to engage young people, nurtures discipline, improves health and well-being, strengthens community, and guides young people away from less positive activities, particularly in a society where drugs and knife crime is a very real threat.
People like Pat Thomas and Wasim Said have a great heritage behind them. A hundred years before Thomas first established Tiger Bay Boxing Club, others had done the same. And just as boxing in Butetown is made possible today by a Community of Faith – the Club is based at the South Wales Islamic Centre – so this was the case in the distant past, a past we’re about to unfold…!
A club on Canal Parade
On the evening of Friday 24th April 1885, Fr Griffith Arthur Jones, the Vicar of St Mary’s, along with his curate, the Rev H.B. Wilkinson and others gathered in the rooms of a new Club for Young Men on Canal Parade.
The premises had recently been made available by the relocation of Timber Merchants, Alexanders and Co. Fr Jones stated that “it had for some time been their intention to start an institution of the kind, but they had not been able to find suitable premises before,” wrote the Weekly Mail (25th April 1885)
When he discovered that the company was relocating “he at once hit upon that as the right sort of place, and it having been agreed on all hands that it would serve their purpose they negotiated with Messrs. Alexanders and Co.” The rooms were subsequently offered at a reduced rent.
There were four rooms. One on the ground floor was devoted to boxing and single- stick (a martial art that uses a wooden stick as a weapon) and the other accommodated by the caretaker. The rooms upstairs were used for chess and bagatelle.
‘Pure and noble’
“The Vicar stated that the club was in connection with St. Mary’s Church,” reported The Weekly Mail, “and was a very necessary institution for the amusement of their young people and to give them a meeting-place for social intercourse.”
“For his own part, he did not attach much importance to the religion of those who drew long faces and went about the place groaning and grunting. (Laughter.) He liked to see young people cheerful, merry, and joyous, as they ought to be.”
“One of the evil results of the example of such people as those he had alluded to was that young people got to look upon all amusements as equally bad or equally good. If that club succeeded in nothing else, it would show their young people that there was a recreation which was religious, justifiable, and pure; honest and noble. (Applause.)”
The Club was opened by Fr Jones with a prayer asking God to bless it “that it might be a useful institution in the parish.”
Paying their way
The club was to be supported, in the main, by subscriptions (2d a week) with all the games free apart from bagatelle (for which a half-penny would be charged) although the Curate hoped that people would also become honorary members, with a minimum fee of 5 shillings.
They had only been in the rooms for three days, he said, and already 25 members had been enrolled, and he hoped the number would soon be doubled in a very short time.
Although the rooms had been obtained at a reduced rent there was some concern that this would be a drain on resources. Fr Jones “hoped that some of their friends would come forward and relieve them of it, so that they could apply their funds to the improvement of the club.”
The club, said the Rev H.B. Wilkinson, “would be open two nights a week during the summer, and, they hoped, every night, and perhaps every day, during the winter.”
The club would also benefit St Mary’s Cricket Club (which had been in existence since at least 1878) the members of which would hold their meetings there, as well as by the Bible Classes, and it was suggested that a Savings’ Bank should also be started.
Yesterday and today
Life, of course, a century ago was very different from what it is today. And yet many similar problems occur even if in a slightly different guise.
At St Mary’s Church, we have watched with admiration the work of Tiger Bay Amateur Boxing Club, and are pleased to support it, have been able to provide some financial donations, and continue to follow its progress with admiration and a sense of local pride for what is being achieved amongst the young people of Butetown and beyond.
Sifting through various pieces of writing, I found this article which was intended to follow a previous blog post: Standing around at the Station. It was written last year as one of a series of articles exploring the place that religion has played in the growth and life of Cardiff, both yesterday and today.
This article begins at the junction of St Mary Street and Wood Street as we take a journey towards the castle and, whilst we only get as far as Cardiff Market we’re able to take a wider look at the world through the clues still scattered around us.
Three metal monkeys chime each hour from the glazed clock-tower at the junction of Wood Street and St Mary Street. It’s time to move on. The mischievous monkeys are copies of those carved in wood in Cardiff Castle where they cavort around the Tree of Knowledge. William Burges, their creator, gives a dig at Darwin’s Beagle adventures, and carves into his work the controversies and discoveries of the day. Darwin returned home in 1836 with ground breaking ideas. A small number of Christians still cling to some anti-Darwin doctrines but they are few and far between. People have moved on. Baptised and schooled in the Church of England, Darwin died an agnostic.
On the corner of the street, the belly of the Royal Hotel has been carved up between bars, surrounded by many others, all of whom give a wry smile to the memory of Temperance Town. Here, in the hotel, Sir Robert Scott took his final grand dinner before he pushed out into choppier waters, never to return.
Cardiff is a city which pulls in weekend party people. The fancy-dressed groups of stags and hens with bespoke T-shirts is a familiar sight on Fridays as they spill out from the train station. Brains Brewery Quarter, long vacated as an actual brewery, gapes open mouthed at Wood Street.
A few years ago, at an Interfaith event with young people at the Wales Millennium Centre, we asked if Cardiff was a good place to be a young person of faith. For them, it was. They enjoyed living in a city which is diverse and multicultural. One of the things, though, that sometimes raised difficulty for some was the alcohol driven entertainment which is often at the heart of city life, and so often part of the life of many of their friends. It’s one of the industries of any city, and Cardiff is no different.
‘Street Pastors’ is an initiative of trained volunteers from local churches in towns and cities across the country, including Cardiff. Each weekend, they are out and about until the early hours to care for people on the streets, some of whom have partied hard.
Opposite, the oldest Arcade in town, the Royal Arcade of 1858. Above here the first Cardiff Free Library was opened before its grander premises next to St John’s Church
Red wine and Jewish friends
In the busy St Mary Street, I almost pass a familiar face.
‘Stanley, how are you?’
We shake hands, tell him I saw him on the Television two days ago, a news item about Anti-Semitism in the Labour Party.
He raises his eyebrows apologetically, as though to say, ‘I know, again,’ conscious perhaps that he is one of the few representatives of the Jewish community commonly called upon for comment. He does it well.
‘I don’t often walk through the city centre with a bottle of red wine,’ he says, raising the bottle, ‘but I’ve been to the Mansion House for a coffee morning. I won a raffle prize.’
I first met Stanley through his wife when the Jewish Community of the Reformed Synagogue in Adamsdown joined us at St German’s Church for ‘The Day of the Soup’, a community food event, during which we shared who we were through the simmering warmth of soup. Christians, Jews and Muslims gathered together in what was a freezing few weeks in January.
Over the years, I have seen much of him, either on the steps of the Senedd for the bi-annual Merchant Seafarers Memorial Service but more regularly at the South Cardiff Interfaith Network, and so many other things besides, sharing a table with him at various meetings and gatherings.
In 2011, there were 2,064 Jews in Wales, a third of whom live in Cardiff, with two places of worship. At one point, as Industry grew in the nineteenth century, there were dozens of Jewish businesses and people who populated the town with synagogues.
In 1896, when the cornerstone of the new Cathedral Road Synagogue was laid, the Vicar of St Stephen’s Church, Revd A.G. Russell, was present, causing a curt backlash by The Church Times who questioned his presence at such an event. Albert Goldsmid, president of the Synagogue Site Committee, penned a reply in The Western Mail. He saw nothing wrong with Christians assisting at the foundation of a synagogue, in which their Master had been wont to worship and preach. He himself, he said, had lent his hand for Christian denominational purposes without being the less staunch to his race and faith.
Politics and Religion
I say farewell to Stanley and pass Guildhall Place, the site of the fourth Town Hall. It is here, in 1905, that Alderman Robert Hughes opens the letter from the King giving Cardiff city status. Hughes was a parishioner of St Mary’s Church on Bute Street, and a life-long friend of Fr Griffith Arthur Jones who had retired just a year or so before, and a sponsor for many boys baptised and confirmed.
Letter in hand, he is congratulated by the gathered crowd, elevated now as he is to be the first Lord Mayor of Cardiff. His portrait hangs beyond the Castle in County Hall, built the following year. After applause and celebratory speeches, they take to the balcony to share the news, and then there is a torchlight procession to St Mary’s back in Tiger Bay to celebrate the centenary of Lord Nelson’s death.
Pushed, as it often is, outside of public life we can often forget the faith which nurtures the lives of some of our leaders, or overlook the beliefs of those who turn their lives to the service of others. Despite being multicultural, Cardiff had to wait some years before Councillors of other religions emerged. Much has changed, and local politicians now represent more realistically the people they represent.
In 1993, Jaz Singh became the first Sikh Cardiff Councillor, and was Deputy Mayor in 2008, the first Gurdwara in Cardiff having its humble beginnings in a terraced house at Ninian Park in 1956. When eyeing up land for a purpose built Gurdwara years later in the 1980s, he notes with gratitude the help given by Mohammad Javid, who was chairman of the Pakistan Welfare Association and a Member of Woodville Mosque, although there was some criticism by some members, reminiscent of the Jewish-Christian comments of the Church Times a century before.
Back in Butetown, one of Citizens Cymru’s campaign is for dignity in Burial for the Muslim Community. Citizens is a collaboration of organisations uniting for the common good, it provides a means through which many different communities, regardless of creed or colour, can work together on issues which affect them, and build power to change society for the good,
On the site of the former Victorian Town Hall is Julian Hodge House, built in 1915 for the Co-operative Wholesale Society in a style reminiscent of the Edwardian buildings of Regent Street, London. Julian Hodge was one of Wales’ most famous financiers. Two ambitions dominated his life: to found a bank and to build a cathedral. The boy from a poor background became a merchant banker and established the Commercial Bank of Wales but failed to convince the Roman Catholic hierarchy to accept his £3m offer for the building of a new Metropolitan Cathedral in Cardiff.
‘Oh Lord, here is iniquity’
Here, in the street, many people were publicly hanged from the gallows for Cardiff Market was once the site of the 16th century Gaol, expanded in 1770, and continuing as a town gaol until 1877 years after the County Gaol moved across the city in 1832. It remains there still, served by a multi faith chaplaincy.
One of the most famously executed was Dic Penderyn caught up in the political and social unrest which washed through industrial Wales. Working conditions and wage cuts, redundancy and debts led to riots in Merthyr Tydfil where buildings were ransacked to destroy debt records held by the courts. One of the Highland Regiments stationed at Brecon was sent in. Soldiers fired into the crowds. Sixteen people were slaughtered.
One solider, Donald Black, was stabbed in the leg by a soldier’s bayonet. Uncertain of his attacker, a young man called Richard Lewis, known as Dic Penderyn, was arrested. He was charged and imprisoned in Cardiff Gaol, taken to the gallows at 8am on 13 August 1831 at the age of 23 years. His final words were: ‘O Arglwydd, dyma gamwedd, Oh Lord, here is iniquity.’ He is buried in the graveyard of St Mary’s Church, Aberavon.
The valleys have their own stories to tell but they are inextricably linked to the growth of Cardiff. In a novel retelling of the story of Jim Driscoll, the catholic and Cardiff born, Irish boxer from the long gone Newtown area of Cardiff, Alexander Cordell writes with Driscoll’s voice in the winter of his seventh year: ‘A strike of coal miners was going on in a place called Tonypandy, and when they sneeze we cough, said Gran.’ 1.6 million people live within a 45 minute drive to Cardiff, and thousands from the valleys join the Cardiff work force each day.
The Glamorganshire Canal, constructed in 1790, escalated the conveyance of iron and coal from the valleys to Cardiff, swiftly followed by the Taff Valley Railway in 1840 which further enabled the growth of what was once a small town which, at one time, had been described as being “near Llantrisant.”
Here, in St Mary Street, in 1852, the YMCA began in Cardiff, established at first at 100 St Mary Street, eight years after George Williams and Co of London formed the Drapers Evangelistic Association, changing it name to Young Men’s Christian Association. The largest and oldest youth charity in the world, they support more than 250 young carers (aged 7-16) and their families in South East Wales and provide sexual health outreach programmes to young people throughout the city. They also offer childcare, youth clubs, and health and wellbeing opportunities every day of the week and provide accommodation for nearly 120 homeless people in Cardiff, supporting them into independent living. The YMCA moved from St Mary Street to purpose built premises to sit snugly next to Cory’s Temperance Hall opposite Queen Street, but both buildings have long been demolished.
Let the fire be lit
On the right is James Howells’ department store which swallows up what’s left of Bethany Church within, where the walls still hold the memorial to Rawlins White, burned at the stake in the street outside, and who wept when he saw his family as the crowds called for fire and flame. “Burn him, let the fire be lit.” It is 30 March 1555 and Queen Mary I is on the throne.
White gives no resistance to the soldiers who escort him, carefully arranges the wood and straw around his own body hoping that the flames will burn quickly.
As a fisherman, he had lived off the Taff, pulling salmon from the river upstream. Unable to read and speaking only Welsh, he became familiar with Scriptures through the help of his son who read to him each night. Inspired by itinerant preachers who regularly called at Cardiff during the reigns of Henry VIII and Edward VII, he passed on the preaching to others willing to hear.
Despite resistance, White’s silence cannot not be won until he is confined to Cardiff Castle and, more recently, the dark, damp, disgusting cell of the Cockmarel Prison from which he is led to death. Chained to the stake, the fire is lit, his legs burn quickly, his body slumps forward. On the same day in Carmarthen another Martyr, Robert Farrar, the Bishop of St David’s, breathes his last.
The Gallows Field
A hundred years later, in 1679, during the reign of Charles II, two catholic martyrs are marched to the gallows, marking another chapter in the twists of faith and the cost of clinging to ones belief in the face of another, and a reminder of the disturbing deeds of human beings, of rulers and governments, when confronted by difference and dissention. But these were different times. Surely, not today, not in this world, not in our world?
The site of the Gallows Field or Plwcca Halog (Plwcca meaning dirty, wet, uncultivated land) is now a busy junction in Cardiff’s cosmopolitan Roath where City Road and Crwys Road cross and meet three others in a place known these days as ‘Death Junction.’ One day, when walking nearby, a fellow priest told me how he had encountered someone from another Cardiff parish where my appointment as Vicar had recently been announced, and met with mixed reception.
‘We had expected more, really,’ they said. ‘He’s from the valleys.’
 The Jews of South Wales, Ursula R.Q. Henriques 2013, page 30
 Opened in 1853, demolished 1913. Constructed by W.P. James to the design of Horace Jones (the same architect responsible for Tower Bridge in London). It accommodated the courts, police station, fire brigade and post office. The building was expanded in in 1880 , and the Post Office was relocated in 1886 to a new seven-storey building on the corner of Westgate Street and Park Street.
 Julian Stephen Alfred Hodge, financier, born October 15 1904; died July 18 2004
 Designed by local architects J.P. Jones, Richards & Budgen, the building had five storeys and a basement. As well as living and boarding accommodation, it provided a gymnasium, lecture theatre, classrooms, a library and reading room. The ground-floor frontage included two shops – one of which was originally designed as a restaurant. Its foundation stone was laid in 1899 by Sir George Williams and it opened the following year. The Cory Memorial Temperance Hall was built at a cost of £5,000 and presented to the temperance societies of Cardiff by John Cory (1828 – 1910), as a memorial to his late father, Richard. Richard Cory (1799 -1882) had founded the family’s shipping and coal mining businesses. He was a leader of the Methodist movement in Cardiff and supported various social, educational, moral and Christian activities in the area. As the temperance movement developed in Cardiff, he is reputed to have been the first to sign ‘the pledge’. The YMCA also moved from Station Terrace. In 1974, they purchased a former convent school in The Walk, to continue their youth and community work and, subsequently, to develop a hostel for students and young workers.
The ninth article of faith is a plain wooden pulpit, although only a third of the original remains. So, let’s climb into it and look down over two very different people from the past: the successive nineteenth century vicars of St Mary’s Church for whom this pulpit proved so important and through which, perhaps, we can discover what lessons each, in their turn, has taught.
‘Old and weary’
By the time William Leigh Morgan left St Mary’s in 1871 ‘he was probably old and weary’ and had resorted to ‘semi-retirement’ in the much quieter parish of Llanmaes near Cowbridge. “It was thought the pastoral charge of a small rural parish would enable him to regain his health,” wrote The Cardiff Times in November 1876 just after his death. “This, however, did not prove to be the case, and since his removal from Cardiff he has frequently been an invalid,”
Morgan had studied at Lampeter, and ministered in parishes solely within the Diocese of Llandaff. Meanwhile until 1872, Fr Griffith Arthur Jones had spent his whole ministry in the rural parishes of Mid and North Wales, after taking a degree at Jesus College, Oxford.
Perhaps, under these circumstances, they never met or even exchanged a word.
Despite this, how did they view each other? More particularly, how do we, from our own perspectives and experiences, view both? Is Fr Jones a hero of the catholic faith or a thoughtless destroyer of Morgan’s evangelical labours? Is he a dismantler of all that some held dear in order to follow his own principles and beliefs – at any cost – or a man of deep faith who simply wanted to restore the catholic heritage of the Church of England?
Surely, their lives cannot be viewed in such a dualistic way, particularly with distance and hindsight. So, let’s climb into the pulpit from which they both preached, and which caused bitter dissension and division, and look down at their lives and, maybe, discover something of what they had in common.
The Plans of the Patrons
Nothing of what Canon Morgan and Fr Jones achieved at St Mary’s could have been accomplished without the Patrons of the parish who, each in turn, followed their own plans and principles.
When it opened in 1843, St Mary’s Church was more like a preaching house than a traditional church building. The large, centrally placed, three-decker pulpit dominated the space and obscured a small communion table in the apse behind,
The Second Marquess of Bute was an avid evangelical and eulogised by Morgan at his funeral in 1848 as “the friend and patron of true religion.” It was he who made the building of St Mary’s possible but he was also concerned that an evangelical be given the reigns. He convinced the Dean and Chapter of Gloucester Cathedral to transfer the patronage to him on condition that he would foot the bill for the Incumbent’s stipend!
It was this passing of the patronage to the Butes that eventually enabled Fr Jones to succeed Morgan at St Mary’s.
When the second Marquess died, his son inherited the patronage of St Mary’s. In 1868, the third Marquess ‘scandalously’ converted to Roman Catholicism but the patronage of St Mary’s remained with him. As the father found an evangelical so, following Morgan’s retreat to the country, the son would seek a Tractarian appointing Fr Griffith Arthur Jones which gave rise to the rumour that he was ‘in the pay of the Roman Church.’
The father of Griffith Arthur Jones was himself described as an Evangelical and “a devoted and hard-working parish-priest.” Whilst, Morgan wasn’t the son of a priest, his family was of firm clerical stock. His uncle was the Vicar of Eglwysilian and another relation, Edmund Morgan, succeeded Morgan at Bedwellty when he was appointed to Roath. All were Welsh speaking Evangelicals.
Against the tide
When he retired, Morgan addressed his parishioners. “You have assisted me liberally in maintaining the church, parish, and other charities,” he said, “and enabled me to deliver them into the hands of my successor unburdened with debt.”
Who that successor would be was of great concern to Morgan but perhaps he failed to fathom that such a man as Fr Jones would ever be appointed to the evangelical stronghold of St Mary’s. The pain, for him, was two-fold for his other parish of Roath also received the appointment of a fellow ‘Ritualist,’ Fr Puller.
Likewise, later in his ministry at St Mary’s, Fr Jones had a similar anxiety. His altercations with the bishop over the use of incense fuelled the fear that the curates’ licenses would be removed leaving him alone and forced to retire and give way to a ‘Moderate High Churchman.’ Morgan’s double pain, however, was not felt by Fr Jones who found his successor to be a like-minded friend, a fellow student from his Oxford days, the Reverend Gilbert Heaton.
Meanwhile, back in 1872, the South Wales Daily News, reporting on Fr Jones farewell to the people of Llanegryn, raised the alarm bells, and warned that his leaving ceremony was “of that florid character peculiar to the section of the Anglican Church most of all bent upon what is conventionally styled a restoration of fabric and service.”
“Advocates of religious freedom will, perhaps, find no fault with the proceedings,” it continued, “but it may be open to doubt whether the…devotional feeling among the ordinary worshippers at St. Mary’s will justify the introduction of similar services at that Church.”
‘Preaching the truth’
“We feel that the gospel of Christ has been preached by you in all its purity and simplicity,” said Morgan’s parishioners on the occasion of his retirement, “with an earnestness which showed your extreme anxiety for the souls of your people.”
“As to the all-important matter of preaching the truth of the everlasting gospel,” he replied, “I have not shunned to declare unto you all the counsel of God, but have warned all night and day. As far as I have known the truth, I have conveyed it sincerely to each of you without respect of persons.”
It was the large three decker pulpit from which Morgan preached that gospel “in all its purity and simplicity” which stood as a symbol of disagreement and division for Fr Jones and caused him the greater work.
“The battle which he was called on to fight raged, so to say, specially round two things,” said the biographers of Fr Jones, “his teaching about Confession and his desire to turn what was arranged as a meeting-house into something more like the House of God as fitted for Catholic worship.”
When his first attempt to reduce the pulpit in size and move it to the side failed, he was jeered by a victor in the street, who received the reply that “it will serve well from which to preach the catholic faith.”
At the introduction of the Patronal Festival, two guest preachers (Father Stanton of S. Alban’s, Holborn, and Father Ives of Holy Nativity, Knowle) were banned by the bishop from the pulpit as the newspapers put out by the anti-Church press headlined “Mariolatry at S. Mary’s.”
In the Parish Magazine at the time, it was simply noted “It is unnecessary to dwell upon the sad disappointment we experienced at being prevented from hearing two of those who were to have preached. Silence speaks sometimes, and perhaps their silence may remind us of this, that God’s House is a House of Prayer rather than of preaching.”
The Noisiest Meetings
There were noisy vestry meetings from the outset as parishioners opposed his plans, culminating in a three day Consistory Court to consider his application. The Press reported proceedings with precision with such headlines as ‘Another dispute at St Mary’s.’
And yet “the noisiest Easter Vestries took place at a time when there was nothing approaching high ceremonial at S. Mary’s,” reads his biography, “and when the faculty was granted by Chancellor Ollivant, and S. Mary’s Church adorned and beautified, the opposition practically ceased.”
Admittedly, by this time, many parishioners (up to 1400 claimed the opponents) had abandoned St Mary’s all together. Worshippers of St Mary’s who disagreed with their Vicar bought a site at Cardiff Docks, and opened a temporary iron church in 1878 and later, in 1894, the foundation stone of St Stephen’s Church was laid.
As to the removal of the pulpit, the press reported at the time that “The Chancellor thought that the opposition was more fanciful than real, and no good arguments had been adduced on the side of the opposition why the faculty should not be granted.”
“Those who opposed it seemed to him to be more than one who did not attend the church,” he declared. For him, the reordering simply reflected the common arrangement of the cathedral and most other churches “He did not see anything of a Ritualistic tendency in these changes.”
Likewise, since part of the plan also involved moving the pipe organ, the organist claimed that Canon Morgan would have done the same but was prevented by the expense involved. The application, eventually, was accepted.
By the mid-1850s the Oxford Movement had moved from the pulpits of the Oxford Colleges to parishes across the Church of England, including many poor areas as priests in so called ‘slum areas’. Ministering in poor communities certainly gave Tractarians a moral strength and spiritual depth, living proof that the Movement was not solely about doctrine and theology or Sacraments and Ritual. This was faith in action.
And yet being a ‘Slum Priest’ was not the sole reserve of catholics. When Fr Jones arrived at St Mary’s, he inherited a parish life deeply embedded in the life of the people with an active concern for the poor and the vulnerable.
Morgan had established clothing banks, took interest in the Young Men’s Christian Association, spoke up about the need for decent sanitation particularly in the midst of the devastating Cholera outbreak of 1849, distributed bibles and charitable aid, established schools, and moved freely through the streets of this growing, bulging docklands ministering to his flock.
He also ministered to the seafaring community, and preached at the opening of a Church for Seamen in 1852. Later an old war ship, HMS Thisbe was used as a centre for seamen, complete with a chapel on board. Morgan further added to these services when he acquired a hospital ship for seamen, The Hamadryad, and in 1870 opened a seamen’s hostel.
Fr Jones built upon and extended this work. The Sisters of Mercy, who arrived in the parish in 1873, did much work among the poor, reached out to mothers and girls, taught in schools and Sunday Schools, and embedded themselves in the lives of those whom they served. Just as Morgan established a tin church in the docks area, so Fr Jones continued with this and likewise did the same in the growing areas of the parish establishing Missions in Temperance Town and Grangetown.
“The schools, which were the heaviest charge, have a large balance in their favour,” said Morgan on his retirement, and this, too, was one of his great achievements inherited by and built upon by Fr Jones, as the population of the parish continued to increase.
They took different approaches to the question of temperance – with Morgan a strict teetotaller. Fr Jones acknowledged that, for some, teetotalism was the answer, and he helped people take the pledge, but generally took the stance of moderation rather than total abstinence for all.
A fold for every sheep, a shepherd for every fold
In addition to Morgan and his two clergy, there was a Scripture Reader and an association of lay people who visited homes and distributed tracts. In January 1868, he wrote to the Ecclesiastical Commissioners asking for help to provide a third curate or lay worker, drawing attention to such a largely populated parish with its world famous sea port.
Earlier, in 1862, addressing a meeting in Cardiff, he said “What should be done was to carry out the maxim that there should be a fold for every sheep and shepherd for every fold. If they were to multiply the ministers so that every pastor should have the charge of one thousand people then they would have to multiply them ten-fold in Cardiff.”
Whilst Fr Jones gathered a group of like-minded clergy as his Curates, and invited the sisters of East Grinstead it was said fin 1888 when there were six sisters that “we could easily find work for double that number.” There were also Lay readers, and one of Fr Jones’ closest friends and supporters was Mr Thatcher, Secretary of the Diocesan Lay Readers Association.
Meanwhile the Sunday evening Prayer Meetings established by Morgan and regarded by him as the powerhouse of the Parish caused Fr Jones much frustration as they prayed aloud for the conversion of the Vicar and his clergy ‘to the true gospel.’
He turned his attention to the growth of the parish through other small groups – the guilds, particularly The Guild of the Good Shepherd for men which “enabled him gradually to gather together a band of faithful adherents who loyally tried to strengthen his hands, and gave him assistance and encouragement in various ways.”
Incense and Inner Circles
Despite their differences, the integrity of both Morgan and Jones is without question. In a letter to Bishop Ollivant from E. Turberville Williams, the bishop is reminded of an incident in November 1871 when Morgan “evidently under the greatest possible emotion, uttered in the presence of your Lordship, two archdeacons and the rural deans, ‘My Lord, you are living in an inner circle.”
Morgan may have enjoyed the benefit of being friends with the Bishop but he was honest and forthright all the same, a characteristic shared by his successor who, at one of the earliest Diocesan Conferences, spoke out most clearly of the use of incense in worship. “Again and again, amid many cries of “No, no,” asserting “Yes, we must have incense; yes, yes.”
But this was the time of the 1874 Public Worship Regulation Act which restricted ritual, and the Archbishop’s Opinion of 1889 which outlawed incense and lights, and Fr Jones’ Tractarianism was not popular with the hierarchy of the Church.
Speaking of his time as Vicar of Llanegryn, his friend, the Revd. J.O Evans, wrote, “I happen to know that the then Bishop of Bangor would have been glad to give him very high preferment as a dignitary but for his ritual.” Morgan, on the other hand, sharing the evangelical faith of his bishop, gained ecclesiastical preferment as a Canon.
Morgan was almost never appointed to St Mary’s as he had been considered for the Parish of Llantrisant which required a Welsh speaker. However, under his Incumbency, an Anglican church for Welsh Speakers had opened in the parish in 1856 but it succumbed to demographics being amongst a population of mostly Irish Catholics.
By the time, Fr Jones arrived, the Welsh services had dispersed across the city. However, he was equally committed to restoring the Welsh services, and through his work, enabled All Saints Church to be built, and was responsible for a number of publications in the Welsh language, including a Welsh Psalter. Meanwhile, Morgan had begged SPCK to print a new edition of the Welsh Bible.
Lover of Souls
Called to a house to minister to a dying woman, a member of her family was who a Mormonite preacher tried to engage Morgan in a theological debate about priesthood. “Sir, this is not a fitting place for such controversy,” he replied. “My duties are with the dying. The only priesthood I can now talk of… is our great High Priest. You will be more anxious to pray to that High Priest to hear our prayers, and save the soul of this dying woman.”
Both Morgan and Fr Jones, despite their differences had, at their heart, a lover of souls. When asked by his friend how he could leave such a lovely home as Llanegryn for the slums of Cardiff Docks, Fr Jones replied, “Souls are even more beautiful.”
In the months before his ordination in 1851, on a three week tour of France, he wrote in his diary about an experience where, in his opinion, devotion to the Blessed Virgin Mary had become worship. “Would that Christendom was all in communion, so that one part might be a check to the other,” he said.
All to easily, we polarise our opinions, allow our individual beliefs to divide us. Sometimes, even in our own day, some part of the church may be despised or dismissed because of the flow of the tide at the time. But perhaps our differences should not so much divide but enrich us, not so much separate us but become, for us, differences which build communion, “a check to the other.”
Today, many things for which Fr Jones fought for during his time has become part of the mainstream for so many churches – even those with a particular evangelical tradition. And likewise, those who define themselves as catholic have gained much from those who have taught and lived an evangelical faith.
The son of Fr Jones’ Rector in Gwalchmai, the Rev. J. Wynne Jones, said of him, “He had learned the great secret in dealing with Welsh people – through their feelings – and could teach them Catholic truth in evangelical form.”
His friend, Revd George Body, who led a Mission in the parish said, “His character and life were Christ-centred. In the true sense of the word he was an Evangelical Catholic who loved, confessed, and taught the truth as it is in Jesus.”
A night’s repose
Morgan, on leaving St Mary’s after 28 years of ministry in typically humble fashion said, “I know of many deficiencies, faults and failings in my duty. I can honestly say, however, that I tried to do my best, but, oh, how far was that from was that from which I could have wished it been.”
Fr Jones, likewise, served a long time in the same parish. After 31 years he retired to Adamsdown but each Sunday, so his biography goes, “he would drive down to church in a cab and drive back, and feel, quite justly, like the Village Blacksmith: ‘Something attempted, something done, Has earned a night’s repose.’”
The quote is from a much longer poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. Despite their differences, William Leigh Morgan and Griffith Arthur Jones were united in the service of the same gospel, lovingly laboured for souls, and helped to change the world in which we live. Perhaps we can take a few more words from that poem, and allow them to be applied to them, each in turn, each in their own way, in their own distinctively rich ministries.
Onward through life he goes;
Each morning sees some task begin,
Each evening sees it close;
Something attempted, something done,
Has earned a night’s repose.
Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend,
For the lesson thou hast taught!
Thus at the flaming forge of life
Our fortunes must be wrought;
Thus on its sounding anvil shaped
Each burning deed and thought.
Footnote: in addition to using various resources and archive material I am grateful to an essay by Roger Lee Brown in Ten Clerical Lives – Essays relating to the Victorian Church in Wales (2005, Tair Eglwys Press) for additional insights into and information about William Leigh Morgan
“The first Nowell the angels did say was to certain poor shepherds in fields where they lay” so the well-known Christmas Carol goes. It’s these ‘poor shepherds’ who feature in our eighth article of faith: a reredos above the High Altar. Within its brush strokes we explore the friendships and fortunes of Cardiff, the reality of poverty, and a Priest’s calling.
The million pound question
Much is made in our reading of the nativity narratives of Jesus of the poverty of the shepherds. It’s a story from Luke’s gospel where the poor take precedence, and the Beatitudes boast they are blessed. What better image from the gospels, then, to be installed in a church which stood at the crossroads of poverty and opulence?
The industrial boom of Cardiff Docks made some men very rich indeed. Less than thirty years after this reredos was painted, the first million pound cheque would be signed – just down the road at The Coal Exchange. Such deals provided employment to many but the docks, like other industrial towns, was also the place where people, at times, struggled to make a living.
This was the century of Shaftesbury’s campaigns and when Dickens came into his own as a champion of the poor. It wasn’t until 1872 that the working time of children was reduced to no more than ten hours a day, and then, thirty years later, a law was passed prohibiting them from working underground in the mines which fed Cardiff Docks with coal.
It was within the midst of both the poverty and opulence of Cardiff Docks that its clergy moved.
‘Souls are even more beautiful’
“We stood on the terrace in front of his house (he was always fond of flowers),” wrote Revd . J.O. Evans, a friend of Fr Jones – the Vicar of St Mary’s from 1872 – 1903.
Fr Jones was about to set off from the rural parish of Llanegryn at the foot of the Snowdon mountains for Cardiff Docks.
“The day was bright and beautiful, and as we looked across the valley with the Bird’s Rock in the far distance I said, “How can you leave this lovely home?”
He replied, “Souls are even more beautiful.”
“He had always a flower in his coat, at home and abroad,” reads his biography. A reminder that beauty can be found wherever we go, even in the grime and sweat of a growing, creaking industrial town like Cardiff, just under our nose.
Perhaps, as a fanciful aside, one can imagine him, on that day, picking a flower from his garden, holding it to his face, and then placing it in his lapel as he makes his way south to Loudoun Square, and his new home, looking for beauty.
Unstudied Simplicity and Saintly Lives
In the second half of the eighteenth century, Loudoun Square in Butetown had been designed from reclaimed marshland as a large square of three-storey decorative houses, surrounding a green, tranquil park. At first, it was home to mariners and merchants, brokers and builders and ship owners.
However, by the 1880s the wealthier residents had moved away to the new suburbs, and Loudoun Square became overcrowded as residents took in tenants to help pay the high rents.
“The feature which would probably first strike a stranger in the Clergy House was its interior dinginess and the simplicity of its furniture,” wrote one of the curates, Fr Smallpiece, in 1895. “The Vicar rented two houses in the corner of Loudoun Square, and had them thrown into one to form the Clergy House, where he and the assistant clergy all lived together.”
“We did not, indeed, go in for sanded floors; but the carpets, furniture, wallpapers, paint, and whitewash all presented an air of venerable age and unstudied simplicity. Unstudied, for I do not suppose that the Vicar ever thought it a merit not to have things nice about him: there the things were, and he simply never thought about having them different.”
“They were good enough for him, and I don’t suppose it ever occurred to any of us to question their being good enough for us also.”
“He is a man who has worked in most unostentatious fashion in the worst parts of Cardiff for many a year,” wrote the Times in 1895. “His work is among the people, and he feels it to be his duty to live among them – that is all. In the midst of brothels and shebeens the clergy in whose parishes are these sins of iniquity live and work, and their work is done with effect.”
When considering the circumstances in which people of the parish lived and worked – in a bubbling, bulging industrial community, one of the clergy could say with conviction: “I assure you that there are men and women living in the midst of this wickedness who live saintly lives.”
Deep in the docks was The Havannah, an industrial ship for boys who attended St Mary’s on Sundays. Year after year, twelve to twenty of these boys were presented for Confirmation after instruction by the clergy who held classes on board.
The Vicar took great interest in these boys as he did in all the children of his parish, and he was renowned for his love of them. However busy he was, he made a rule of joining the annual Christmas treat given to the ‘Havannah Boys’ by his friend and, for some time, Churchwarden, Sir Edward Hill, of Rookwood in Llandaff.
It was this Sir Edward Hill who decorated the apse of St Mary’s with its reredos.
At the time Sir Edward Stock Hill was a well-known figure in South Wales. He and his brother were partners in Charles Hill and Sons, shipbuilders and ship owners from Bristol. Edward had come to Cardiff to supervise the acquisition of a dry dock and shipbuilding yard on the west side of East Bute Docks.
Born in 1834 in Bedminster, Bristol, he became a Conservative Member of Parliament for Bristol South from 1886 to 1900.
A colonel in the 1st Glamorgan Artillery Volunteer Corps, he was made a Companion of the Order of the Bath in the 1881 Birthday Honours and a Knight Commander of the Order of the Bath a year later, and also served as High Sheriff of Glamorgan.
He built his plush and opulent family home of Rookwood in Llandaff in 1866, the year he married Fanny Ellen Tickle but he didn’t forget the ‘Havannah Boys’ of the docks!
He died in London in 1902, his funeral celebrated at Llandaff Cathedral accompanied by a large and impressive procession from his home with full military honours. Thousands lined the route.
Bankers, Businessmen and Grimy Hands
Painted by Philip Westlake of Westlake & Barraud, a firm producing stained glass windows, the reredos donated by Hill to the Church in which he worshipped and served as Churchwarden shows the Blessed Virgin and her Divine Child sitting on her knee and reaching out to accept the homage of those ‘certain poor shepherds,’ the first to receive the angels’ greetings of a new born king.
His brother Nathanial Westlake painted the door of the Tabernacle beneath the reredos, highly decorated with vine-leaves and grapes, along with a Chalice and Wafer according to the design of Edmund Sedding who redesigned the whole apse.
Hanging in the sitting room at Loudoun Square Clergy House was a print of the Rood Screen from the Church in Llanegryn. “The screen,” he had said, “is magnificent.” Perhaps he often reminisced about his time in that beautiful rural parish, and perhaps even recalled the conversation he had with his friend in the garden who asked how on earth he could leave such a lovely home, carried with him, maybe, the belief that “souls are even more beautiful.”
“He was a man of love,” wrote George Body, a friend of Fr Jones. “In him strength was tempered with love, and especially with pastoral love that flows into the true pastor out of the heart of the Good Shepherd, a love as beautiful as it is unique.”
“How he loved his people and bore with them and sympathized with them in the specially difficult and dangerous moral conditions of his parish! He knew his people, and they knew him. He called them by name; he gave his life for them. And they knew it, and gave him love for love.”
After his death, The Western Mail spoke of his love for children and their love for him. “It was a sight to see him pass along the streets, with the children running up, crying “Vicar, Vicar!” and clinging with their grimy hands to his cloak.”
He could move with ease between the streets of Tiger Bay and the plush rooms of the Town Hall. He was as eager to bend down to help a seafarer pick up his belongings from the dirt or dart to a guarded prisoner at a Railway Station as he was to spend a day out with his friends on Flat Holm or enjoy the company of Businessmen and Bank Managers, like Mr Watkins who was the Manager of the London and Provincial Bank in Cardiff. Their friendship deepened over the years, and Fr Jones delighted in accepting invitations to his son’s Cumberland Estate for grouse shooting, a sport he’d enjoyed since his former rural days. One of the boys who carried his birds for him in Llanegryn, Robert Hughes, later became the first Lord Mayor of the City of Cardiff.
Amongst his good and faithful friends, too, was the well known and financially successful Sir Edward Hill, whom he visited often in his plush home at Rookwood.
That is all
The Parish has changed much since those days. The heavy industry has been heavily reduced, and the working docks are now much smaller, pushed at a distance across the bay.
Cardiff Bay is now the seat of Welsh Political power, as well as the administration of local politics at City Hall. It’s a place where people gather for leisure and pleasure, for entertainment and the arts but it’s also a place with areas characterised by poverty and social inequality. Butetown has the highest child poverty rate in Cardiff.
The story which unfolds with the reredos painting is a story for our time too where the gap between rich and poor widens, and where 1% of the world’s richest people own 82% of the world’s wealth.
Times and circumstances have changed, of course, and our experience of poverty is different but, as Jesus prophesised, ‘You will have the poor with you always.” Today, despite the gap between rich and poor, many people of different degrees of wealth – as well as those who have little – continue to be generous in their giving and serving of those certain poor shepherds in our midst.
Communities aren’t simply creations of themselves but are also shaped and shifted by external factors whether social or political, commercial or economic, national or international.
Then, as now, different priests are called to a variety of settings and circumstances whether it’s an affluent, leafy suburb or the hefty heart of a Council Estate, a sprawling country parish with a dozen churches or a post-industrial living in the valleys.
No matter in what kind of parish a priest and pastor lives and moves, they walk between the lives of so many different people regardless of wealth or power, affluence or privilege, keeping before them the pattern of Jesus the Good Shepherd.
Pope Francis said that ‘Shepherds should smell of their sheep.’ As the Press said of Fr Jones at the times so may it be said of parish clergy today: “His work is among the people, and he feels it to be his duty to live among them – that is all.”
This screen seems solid, unmoveable, part of the fabric of the building. Yet it came from another church building now long gone, the former church of St Dyfrig. The church stood on Wood Street in an area of Cardiff once known as Temperance Town near Central Railway Station before the city quickly moved on. It’s this screen – and its straying figures of Jesus, Mary and John – that we’re taking as our seventh article of faith.
Keeping up with the pace
Hidden away in our archives are sixteen letters written, during the first half of the 1970s, by the famous church architect, George Pace. They were sent to two successive Vicars of St Mary’s, Fr Gillingham (who had left Cardiff for what Pace, obviously quoting Fr Gillingham, describes as a “rather rundown parish”) and his successor, Fr Oman.
The last few letters are silent of his signature. Pace died in August 1975 and failed to see the completion of the particular work in hand although his initial plans were slightly more extensive than they turned out to be.
In the years after the Second Vatican Council (1962-65) many church buildings were reshaped and reimagined. St Mary’s was no different as it rode the wave of a liturgical revival, keeping up with the pace of renewal.
But back to the first hand written note. “The screen from S. Dyfrig’s Church now stood at S Samsons would be excellent re-erected near the west end of the nave at S. Mary’s,” writes Pace. “Could you have a word with the Vicar of S Samson’s about getting the parts of the screen to St Mary’s and storing in the N. aisle?’
But what of St Dyfrig’s Church?
The shape of a city
Cities grow up and out, extending their reach and embracing neighbouring communities. Capital cities like Cardiff compete with others for investment and events, try to make their way in the world, to stand tall, stand proud, create prosperity and yet often, too, widen the unwieldy gap between rich and poor.
Times change and these poorer communities, once overlooked, ignored and derided may suddenly gain the interest of developers who see new value on the land, if not on the people who live there.
This was the case, perhaps, with Temperance Town, first fashioned in 1833 but, by 1937, an embarrassment to Cardiff Corporation and an opportunity for Developers to move out people, pull down houses, demolish buildings, and clear the land for a new imagined landscape.
Since that first redevelopment, this small area of Cardiff has received several reinventions, and is being developed still with new buildings shouldering up to the Principality Stadium, like the stout BBC Studios and several steel-spined buildings forming Central Square and the new smiling face of the Tax Office with the ground nearby giving way to the long awaited Transport Hub. Things move on.
‘We sit round and finish it together’
Initially, Temperance Town was built on land owned by Colonel Wood, a teetotaller, who stipulated that the new community would be free from pubs and beer sellers.
The first Temperance Society in Cardiff was established in 1833 which not so much advocated complete prohibition from alcohol but moderation although many people signed a ‘Temperance Pledge’ promising to abstain from intoxicating drinks, their framed certificates hanging proudly in their homes.
The Movement was closely linked to Non-Conformist chapels whilst many industrialists supported the idea too, tired of ‘worse for wear’ workers or those who didn’t turn up to work at all, especially on Monday morning. The Sunday Closing Act for Wales ceased Sunday trading altogether but the consequential dangers were illicit drinking dens, a criminal subculture and excessive drinking at home.
It was for this reason that the Vicar the time, Fr Jones, lamented the Act “which increased rather than diminished the harm it was intended to avert.”
One day, he asked a working-man how he managed to get a glass of beer on Sunday if he wanted one. The man replied, “Oh, I and my pals have a cask in on Saturday. The first Sunday I had a glass in the morning and went for a walk: when I came back my pals had finished the cask. So now we manage better: we sit round and finish it together.”
Whilst he refused the belief that drinkers were sinful, and the abstinent were on the way to perfection, one frequently finds in his diary entries to this effect: “Administered the pledge to a man.” “Two women came to take the pledge.” He knew that total abstinence was the only hope for “slaves of drink” but, for those who wished to drink, he simply advised moderation.
‘The great unwieldy parish’
St Mary’s Mission in Temperance Town began soon after Fr Griffith Arthur Jones arrived in 1872, as each of the clergy took responsibility for different parts of the parish.
One of his first curates, Rev. W. H. Kirby, wrote that he “first made the acquaintance of Father Jones, or Father Arthur, as his friends loved to call him, in the Lent of 1872, just after he had left his beloved parish of Llanegryn to become the vicar of the great unwieldy parish of S. Mary’s, Cardiff, with its population of 25,000 of all conditions and nationalities.”
“After spending a day or two with him at 52, Loudoun Square, which with the adjoining house afterwards became the Clergy House, I decided to come and work with him, first as a layman, being subsequently ordained deacon in September 1872, and priest in September 1873, in Llandaff Cathedral, by Bishop Ollivant.”
“I joined Father Jones at Cardiff soon after Easter, and had as my special charge Temperance Town … where an upstairs room in a house in Park Street used in the daytime as a private school, formed the nucleus of what was known for a time as the Mission of the Good Shepherd.”
Shortly after Kirby left the parish in 1875 the room had to be given up, and it wasn’t until the following spring that services resumed, taking place in a school-chapel built on ground given for a day school by the Marquis of Bute with the agreement that it would be available for Church Services.
The new Mission opened on 26 April 26, 1876 with a sermon preached by Rev. S. E. Gladstone, Rector of Hawarden, who came to Cardiff straight from the dedication of the Chapel of Keble College, Oxford, which eventually obtained the patronage of S. Dyfrig’s Church that was to come. On this occasion, the Vicar announced that he looked forward to building a permanent church.
Ground had already been purchased but there was a counter claim for the land by the Cardiff School Board. He promised the claim would be resisted as it was the only piece of land that the Church could obtain in that district.
In the dispute with the Board, the Vicar was partially successful, retaining just part of the land which meant that St Dyfrig’s covered every inch of the ground possessed by the Church, tightly adjoined by the school. But we’re moving on too quickly!
The Face of Coe
Before the church could be built, funding was needed. On 28th December 1887, Fr Hector Coe, the Curate who joined the parish in 1875 and had taken over Kirby’s work in Temperance Town, made an appeal for donations in the local press.
The initial design of the Church was far more grand and expensive than anticipated by the Curate. The drawings were tweaked bringing the price down to £3,707
The architect was John Sedding, who had also redesigned and redecorated the apse at St Mary’s with life size statues (by C.W. Seale) of the 12 Apostles, one of whom has the face of Coe himself!
Flags and Coronets
In 1888, the Memorial Stone of the new Church of S. Dyfrig’s Church was laid. The Bishop preached to a crowded congregation in the Mission Chapel followed by a procession along Wood Street.
The clergy and congregation sang the Litany of the Holy Ghost along the way with “Mr. W. Sullivan and a friend accompanying on cornets.” Fascinated residents looked on and “the neighbourhood was brilliant with flags.”
Free from debt
The church was consecrated on Tuesday 14 November 1893. “The church which is still incomplete,” read the South Wales Daily News, “consists of chancel and two bays of the nave, accommodates 450 worshippers, and is quite free from debt. Money, however, is needed for the endowment of the new ecclesiastical parish of St Dyfrig proposed to be formed.”
Two years later this happened and, on 29 May 1895, Hector Coe became its Vicar. The second stage of work to complete the building began in 1904. Fr Coe continued in post until 1921.
In the spring of 1897, a third Mission began in a part of the parish adjoining St Paul’s, Grangetown, in a street leading off Penarth Road in a room above a bakehouse. A few years later, on the other side of the road, St Samson’s Church was opened. But that’s another story.
The pace of a city
By the late 1930s, Temperance Town was termed a slum, and developers saw its potential. Houses and building were pulled down. St Dyfrig’s followed their demise in 1969.
The hand carved Stations of the Cross and the Reredos of the Adoration of the Magi made their way to St Samson’s Church as did the name of Dyfrig. The Chancel screen, six years later, came to St Mary’s.
The Screen for some years was stored in St Samson’s Church Hall and, now that it was due to be demolished, plans were put in place to move the screen to St Mary’s Church under the eye of George Pace.
The rood figures of the crucified Christ, the Blessed Virgin Mary and the Beloved Disciple which stood on top of the screen were crafted into an anchor-shaped cross and, after first being situated behind the Nave Altar, was eventually hung high above. Pace’s plan had been to remove the choir stalls to the west end of the church and use the cleared space for a new nave altar. This never happened.
What we do have, however, is a space that is both open and intimate, a bright and light place that naturally gathers people around the altar to celebrate the Eucharist in a way that reflects Henri Nouwen’s description of that Sacrament as being “the most human and divine gesture imaginable.”
We have plans to develop the building further as each generation glimpses new possibilities whilst retaining the importance of who we are.
There is no losing sight of the Lord’s Table as we minister to an unwieldy world, and try to keep up with the pace of a city which is constantly changing and reshaping itself.