How Not to be a Pastor

In 1909, Crane Street Baptist Church, Pontypool, welcomed Daniel Hughes as pastor. The pulpit was a prestigious one, having been occupied in the past by prominent Welsh Baptist leaders such as Thomas Thomas and William Edwards. Hughes, a native of North Wales, was described as 'outspoken and fearless in his convictions'.

He proved to be all that.

In December 1912 the deacons attempted to sack Daniel Hughes. Among the grounds cited were: 'continuous absence... neglect of visitations... want of interest in the Sunday School... lack of spiritual life in the church... strained relationships... disregard of the deacons' wishes... and no new members being added to the roll'. This was not all, however. Apparently Hughes had decided that the proper place to demand a pay rise was from the pulpit.


So the deacons sacked the man. Or tried to. Hughes refused, point-blank, to pack his bags. So the deacons locked the chapel and refused to let him in. Not to be daunted, Hughes climbed the railings outside the chapel, smashed open the gate with a hammer, and broke into the church, opening the chapel to the general public. He was planning to baptise so many new members that he would have control over the church.

The deacons were forced to go to the High Court for an injunction to ban him from the premises. Hughes refused to recognise the right of the deacons to dismiss him. Mr. Justice Eady decided otherwise, and in May 1913, the High Court ruled that Hughes had been legally dismissed. At the same time, the Baptist Union of Wales removed Hughes' name from their approved list.

Huw Edwards concludes that Hughes, no stranger to controversy, 'was either mentally ill or just an exceptionally unpleasant man'.

with acknowledgments to Huw Edwards, Capeli Llanelli (Carmarthen, 2009), p.393.

Minister Behaving Badly: First Catch Your Mormon

A little-known factor in Welsh religious life was the short-lived rise of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. There were anti-Mormon riots in Swansea and other places, while a number of men from Wales emigrated to Utah, forming the basis of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. Indeed, it was a popular diversion for Welsh travellers to America to go to Salt Lake City and find Welsh polygamists. One episode in the history of Mormonism occurred in the town of Aberaman, towards the latter part of the nineteenth century.

David B. Jones of Rhumney (Bardic name 'Dewi Elfed), newly ordained minister of Gwawr Welsh Baptist Chapel, became a Mormon. Asked to give an account of his behaviour before the Baptist Association, he refused, claiming that that Association had no jurisdiction over him. Unsurpisingly, he was excommunicated in absentia. Howeverm in the meantime, he had altered the trust deeds of the chapel in his favour. Removing the names of a number of people, including Dr. Thomas Price, minister of Calfaria Baptist Chapel, Aberdare. Having altered the chapel deed in order to make the chapel more or less his personal property, the chapel fell into the hands of the Mormons.

The Baptist Association, led by Dr. Thomas Price, were not going to take this lying down. They went to law, and, in 1851, the courts ruled that the chapel was legally the property of the Baptist Association. David Jones declared that he had no intention of vacating the premises.

Dr. Price, together with 2000 supporters and the law officer, marched to the chapel in an attempt to take possession. Seeing their approach, David Jones locked himself inside the Chapel, together with one supporter. The court official declared that he had no authority to break down the door. That being the case, Dr. Price and one of his deacons gained access through a window. After 'a wild and exciting chase around the chapel galleries', the Baptist minister turned Mormon was caught, and forcibly ejected from the Chapel, Dr. Price kicking him out of the front door.

The Chapel was regained for the Welsh Baptists, and although David Jones threatened to bring a charge of assault against Dr. Price, the action was dropped. There are no Mormons at present in Aberaman.

Ministers Behaving Badly: A text for a king

James I of England and VI of Scotland was a strange man. Pearson M’Adam Muir states that:

“He was a strange compound of wisdom and folly, of vacillation and obstinacy, of learning and prejudice, of self-assertion and timidity. Even the tutorship of George Buchanan could not make more of him than a pedant. During his reign many events of the utmost importance for the kingdoms and the churches both of Scotland and of England took place - some for good, some for evil; but whatever part the king took in them he invariably contrived to be ridiculous. At one time he was strongly Presbyterian: “He fell forth praising God that he was born… to such a place and to be king in such a Kirk, the sincerest Kirk in the world… As for our neighbour Kirk in England, it is an evil-said mass in English, wanting nothing but the liftings.” At another time he was strongly Episcopalian: “No bishop, no king.” The controversies which sometimes occurred in church between him and the preachers to whom he was listening fill us with amazement. Whatever can be said as to the reverence, there can be no doubt as to the appropriateness of the text which, according to tradition, was once announced in his presence: ‘James First and Sixth: He that wavereth is like a wave of the sea driven with the wind and tossed.’”

(The Church of Scotland (London, Adam and Charles Black, 1891) Pp. 87-88)

Ministers Behaving Badly. William Robertson

William Robertson of Irvine had quite a sense of humour, as readers of our April Fools' Day post will have noticed. Charles Jerdan tells a number of anecdotes about him in his Scottish Clerical Stories. We present a few:

He once told a friend that he had long been puzzled about the significance of the weathercock on the top of a church spire. But, he added with sly humour, he had at last reached the conclusion that when the Roman Catholics put St. Peter at the head of the Church, it was natural that they should also put the cock on the top of the steeple.

On one occasion Principal John Caird, of the University of Glasgow, had been occupying his pulpit [illustrated at the head of our previous post - H.H.]. Next day the two ministers were walking together down the main street of Irvine, when Dr. Robertson noticed a young woman, who was a member of his church, coming towards them. She was a domestic servant, who had been on an errand, and was carrying a plate with a pat of butter on it. The pastor left his friend for a moment to speak a kind word to the girl. When he returned, Dr. Caird said jocularly, "Is that one of the pillars of your Church?" "No, he answered, she is only a flying butt'ress."

When he was told at a friend's table about a young minister, the cost of whose education at the University and the Theological Hall had been defrayed by the sale of the produce of a hennery, he remarked that in that case he would be "a lay preacher."

Ministers Behaving Badly. The Mark of the Beast

Dr. William B. Robertson was the pastor of Trinity United Presbyterian Church, Irvine, Ayrshire. Illustrated is the interior of his church, now sadly derelict. Trinity Church was built for him in 1863, replacing a previous building used by the congregation. A staunch Calvinist, Robertson's lecturing on Calvinism made the doctrines of grace gracious indeed.

"On one occasion Dr. Robertson was assisted at the half-yearly Communion in his church by a minister by the name of James Dunlop. It was in the days when sacramental services were brought to a close with a meeting for worship on the Monday. At that concluding service Mr. Dunlop preached from Revelation xiii. 18, his subject being 'The Number of the Beast' - 'Six hundred, threescore and six.' In the discourse he passed under review the leading theories as to who the beast was: some holding that he was Nero; others, Lateinos, the Roman emperor or race; others, Mohammed; others, Luther; other Napoleon Buonaparte; and so so. I do not know what view the preacher himself preferred.
"When the service was over, Robertson said to hi: 'Man, Dunlop, what kind of subject was that to take! It was a most unsuitable text to preach from in connection with sacramental services. But, if you would preach about the Number of the Beast, you might have found a more satisfactory explanation than any of those you mentioned. I can give you a much better theory myself.' 'What is that?' asked the other. 'It is that you yourself are the Beast, Dunlop. That is my view, and I shall prove the correctness of it. What is your name? James Dunlop. We shall put it in Latin, Jacobus Dunlopus. Take the sum of all the letters in 'Jacobus Dunlopus' that are Roman numerals, and you will find that it amounts to the Number of the Beast. Thus:
J (that is, I) = 1
A = 0
C = 100
O = 0
B = 0
U (that is, V) = 5
S = 0
Jacobus yields 106. Now take your surname, Dunlopus:

D = 500
U (V) = 5
N = 0
L = 50
O = 0
P = 0
U (V) = 5
S = 0
'Dunlopus yields 560. The total, 666; showing that you are the Beast, Dunlop!"

(From Charles Jerdan, Scottish Clerical Stories, [Edinburgh, Oliphants, 1920] Pp. 123-4)

Ministers Behaving Badly

The year 1894 saw a re- markable, and highly unfor-tunate libel case. G. J. Williams, minister of Brynteg Congregational Church, near Wrexham, sued W. Isaac Morris, minister of Sardis Welsh Congregational Church, Pontypridd. Prior to being called to Brynteg, Williams had been a member at the English Congregational Church in Pontypridd (pictured). A letter praising Williams by the minister of that church, J. Vyrnwy Morgan, had been received by Brynteg. One of the deacons had written to Morris, a leader of Pontypridd Congregationalism, asking for clarification as to Williams' status.

The letter that Morris sent back, in short, advised that Williams ought not, in his opinion, to be allowed within a hundred yards of a pulpit. According to Morris, (i) Williams was not recognised as a preacher by the church he was a member of; (ii) having been a pastor of two Baptist churches; (iii) having given up the calling of a pastor in order to sell beer as a grocer. Once Williams learned of this letter he sued for libel, alleging all charges were untrue. His pastor, Vyrnwy Morgan, appeared for him. Samuel Evans, MP and eminent QC appeared for Morris.

In the course of the case, it was proved that every single charge was correct. Further, Williams had threatened Tongwynlais Baptist Church (of which he was a member) with legal action if they did not remove his name from their membership lists. But worse was to come. Vyrnwy Morgan, appearing as a character witness, revealed that the letter praising Williams had not, in fact been written by him, but by Williams himself.

Williams had somehow got his hands on some of Vyrnwy Morgan's stationery, written his own testimonial, then signed Vyrnwy Morgan's name at the end of this fulsome recommendation.

Unsurprisingly, the court ruled that Williams was, as Morris had described him, a most irregular person.

Ministers Behaving Badly

In his memoir Remin-iscences of my Country and People (Cardiff, 1925), David Davies, Penarth, recounts the story of Thomas Jenkins, minister of the Welsh Baptist Church at Maudlin Street, Bristol, a man notable for his warm heart and girth. Indeed, Jenkins was a man so heay that he had problems walking unaided:

'For some years after my settlement in the ministry at Cardiff, I used to hear of Mr. Jenkins's periodical visits to Cardiff [...]. On one very hot summer day, Mr. Jenkins found the task of Walking the whole length of Bute road to what was then called the "Bristol Packet," specially arduous. But on the way down he saw an Irishman driving a donkey-cart to the Docks. He, in desperation, called: "Pat, what will you charge for taking me to the Docks?" "Faith; sixpence!" said Pat. "Very well," gratefully responded Mr. Jenkins, and he made for the centre of the road where the donkey-cart was. But on his arrival, an unexpected problem presented itself - how to get Mr. Jenkins into the cart! It was quite impossible for him to climb into the cart, and quite as impossible for the Irishman to lift him into it! They stood bewildered, but fortune smiled upon them, for at that very moment a powerful navvy happened to pass by. He was at once requisitioned. The donkey was at a standstill, and the tailborad of the cart was taken off, and then the navvy and Irishman, joining hands beneath Mr. Jenkins - and calling out "one," "two," "three," - made a supreme, almost a superhuman, effort to lift him up. This they just managed to do, but he was so heavy they were obliged to drop him with a thud on the bottom part of the cart at the tail-board end, when suddenly the donkey was shot upward into mid-air, kicking and braying hopelessly, until Mr. Thomas, on account of the sharply inclined plane that the bottom of the cart had now formed, slid off and dropped into the roadway, when the donkey, too, silmultaneously dropped to terra firma.
Poor Mr. Jenkins had the fright of his life; but so had the donkey - and so had the Irishman! Mr. Jenkins's exuberant spirits and genial humour, however, could not be suppressed even then, for as he lay helplessly on his back in the centre of Bute Road, he exclaimed in his broadest Welsh accent: "Pat, your donkey tried to take me up yonder too soon!" "Sure," replied Pat, in his most pronounced Irish brogue, "it's the impossible that my poor beauty was trying! It's downward that ye've been after going, in spite of the three of us!" Then giving a touch of the stick to the donkey, he exclaimed, "Faith, I wouldn't take ye for a quid!" and proceeding on his way he left poor Mr. Jenkins prostrate on his back to the mercy of the navy, who, being more human, lifted him up, and set him on his way anew!'

Ministers Behaving Badly: Edward Irving

Edward Irving, pastor of the National Scotch Church, Regent Square, London, liked long services. Long prayers, long Bible-readings and such like were meat and drink to him. When he invited Dr. Thomas Chalmers to preach at the opening of the new church Irving offered to read a chapter from the Bible for him. We give the rest as reported by Chalmers' biographer:
"He chose the very longest chapter in the Bible and went on with his exposition for an hour and a half. When my turn came, of what use could I be in an exhausted receiver? On another similar occasion he kindly proffered me the same aid, adding, 'I can be short.' I said, How long will it take you? He answered, 'ONLY ONE HOUR AND FORTY MINUTES.' Then, replied I, I must decline the favour."
Another minister, Mr. Craig, who was present at the table, added his experience of Irving:
"My friend, Mr. P., invited a party to supper. Some of his guests had three miles to walk home after the meal. But before its commencement, Mr. P. requested Irving, who was one of the party, to read the Bible and expound. He began and continued a discourse, which manifested not even a tendency towards termination until midnight. The supper was of course either burnt up or grown cold. When the clock struck twelve, Mr. P. tremblingly and gently suggested to him that it might be desirable to draw to a close. 'Who art thou,' he replied, with prophetic energy, 'who darest to interrupt the man of God in the midst of his administrations?' He pursued his commentary for some time longer, then closed the book, and waving his long arm over the head of his host, uttered an audible and deliberate prayer that his offence might be forgiven."

It may be safely assumed that Mr. P. never invited Edward Irving to supper again.

Ministers Behaving Badly. In Assembly

As readers will have noticed, the Church and State Committee of the United Free Church of Scotland became rather an embarassment over time. In 1911 Mr. R.M. Adamson of Ardrossan moved that the Committee's activities (which included involvement with Liberal disestablishment campaigns) be suspended for a year.
A member of the Assembly rose and asked if it was in order to move that a standing committee of the Church should be silenced. Was it in order to appoint a committee to do nothing?
The Moderator of the debate, Dr. John Young, rose and surveyed the assembled ministers and elders.
"Oh, it is quite in order," he said. "A standing committee may be one that never sits."

The whole Assembly was convulsed with laughter for several minutes.

Ministers Behaving Badly. The Colonial Minister

A Presbyterian minister in one of the Australian goldfields of the 19th century was visited by a man who wanted his child baptized. The man sprinkled this request with many oaths and curses. The minister told him:
"I can baptize only the children of Christians, and it is evident you are not a Christian."
The gold-digger was enraged: "Either you will baptize my child or I'll give you a thrashing!" was the meaning of what he said, though he said it in a far more colourful manner.
"Well," the minister replied resolutely, "I can't baptize your child, so if you mean to thrash me you might as well do it now, and have it over."
The prospector agreed, and the fight began. In a couple of minutes the burly prospector was lying flat on his back gasping and the athlectic young minister was still standing. The prospector got up slowly and eyed this example of muscular Christianity.
"You're a better man than I thought you were," he admitted.
The man was influenced for good by the minister afterwards.

[Adapted from G. Reith 'Reminiscences of the United Free Church General Assembly' P. 69]

Ministers Behaving Badly. Rev. R. S. Candlish

(the first in an occasional series of anecdotes about ministers behaving perhaps as they ought not)


A theological student at New College Edinburgh when Robert S. Candlish was principal was called to a Church in the Borders. Those were the days when Presbyterial trials were extremely important to a young man seeking ordination. The ordinand was solemnly and rigorously interrogated by the presbytery on those things he was supposed to have learned in College - Latin, Greek, Hebrew, Theology and so on. This poor young man had found Hebrew very difficult, and had forgotten what Hebrew he had ever known. Fearing this ordal before the Presbytery he went to the Principal for advice. Dr. Candlish considered the problem for a moment, then looked up and said in his abrupt manner, "Have ye the Gaelic?"
"Yes, Sir," the young man replied.
"Have ye a Gaelic Bible?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Can ye read it?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well, then," Candlish said with a smile, "A nod's as good as a wink to a blind horse."
With that he dismissed the young man, who took heart. He also took his Gaelic Bible to the Presbytery. At the examination before the Presbytery he was asked to read and construe a Hebrew Psalm. Without hesitating the young man read off the Gaelic beautifully, translated fluently, and passed with flying colours.

(adapted from George Reith, 'Reminiscences of the United Free Church Assembly', (Edinburgh, The Moray Press, 1933) P. 42n.