t was a colourful sight
that would live long in the mind of those who witnessed it that
autumn day in 1846. The assembled clergy representing the hierarchy
of the Roman Catholic Church in England had arrived in the
Staffordshire Moorlands to assist in the consecration of newly built
St Giles Church in Cheadle the inspired creation of architect
Augustine Pugin.
The Morning Post of
September 3rd 1846 commented on the clergy “All were
habited in the full costume of their rank- exhibiting a solemn and
imposing scene and it was impossible to witness it without the mind
carried back to those ancient times”. Amongst the assembled
bishops was Seraph Heliani the Armenian Bishop of Jerusalem with long
flowing beard and dressed in oriental robes- an exotic sight for the
people of Cheadle.
The newspaper did not
hold back in the praise lavished on the newly opened Church.
“Bright and
glittering colours, gorgeous decoration, beautiful paintings meet the
eye on every side until the senses become dazzled”
I visited St Giles for
the first time recently: it is a stupendous sight, undoubtedly one of
the great British churches of the early 19th century.
Whilst I was there I took the opportunity to visit the Museum opened
to celebrate the 200th anniversary of the birth of Pugin.
I marvelled that this architectural jewel could be in the
Staffordshire Moorlands. I noticed that the visitor book was full of
reverential comments. I added an appropriate quote from Gerald Manley
Hopkins.
Later my mind turned to
another impromptu visit made in July to a place of worship
diametrically opposite to Roman Catholic opulence .The Primitive
Methodist chapel in Milldale was the place I thought of. It was built
a decade before St Giles. It is unadorned, bare, but for me it was as
much imbued with the spirit of God as the Cheadle Church. The visitor
book was as full of positive comments as was St Giles. The chapel is
set in wonderful countryside beside the Dove and I was alone. I sat
in silence to hear the birdsong in the copse next to the chapel and
the flow of the river. It was as much a glimpse of heaven as Pugin’s
marvel
“
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