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| The Red Lion: My home in Lower Heyford |
Richard Mellor
Afscme Loccal 444, retired
HEO/GED
5-21-25
When my father left the army in the mid-fifties he took a pub in a small village in Oxfordshire England that was midway between Oxford and Banbury. I had come straight from Nigeria to rural England; quite a transformation. For a minute or two I went to the local village school that was a very unpleasant experience for me due to the hateful nature of the teacher there.
My family was Catholic, although in name only. I assume it was due to the fact that my grandmothers on my father’s and mother’s side were Irish women and my great grandparents came to England in the late 18th century. But after some conflicts with this woman my parents sent me to a Catholic school in Banbury 12 miles to the north. I cannot say that being Catholic was the reason for this teacher’s hostility though I never did count it out. I don’t recall any hostility or religious sectarianism among the village folks.
I am still connected to this part of the country; Banbury and it surrounding villages.
I was about 11 and went to school at St. John’s Catholic school in Banbury. After St. John’s I went to Blessed George Napier Secondary Modern (BGNS), what we would call here in the US a High School. I often joke with my friends that given the liberal use of canes, sticks and rulers as a punishment for transgressions, I have a hard time going to the zoo as I am afraid of Penguins.
We had many lay teachers, Irish men and one Irish woman that I recall but I remember standing in front of what, in my memory was a line of penguins where one of them took out her frustration on my outstretched palms with a wispy cane. Thank you, Sister, I think was the polite response.
I think I got a decent education at these schools. Before BGNS was built some of our classrooms were in various places like a local library or at a hall of some sorts on Calthorpe street. We ate lunch at another schools dining hall that we’d walk up to. We had to walk past St John’s Church and we’d raise our caps as we did so as there was a big statue of the Virgin Mary outside the church entry. Another positive aspect of this school was that we did get to meet Catholics from other countries, I remember a Polish girl and there were others from European backgrounds.
Anyway, I follow some Banbury news on a Facebook Page called Banbury Memories and someone posted a short history of the Catholic presence in the town. I have posted it below. It refers to the penal or penury laws against Catholics after the reformation. I commented on the post as these Protestant Penury laws or much of the anti-Catholic content were dominant in British occupied Ireland and imported in to colonial America as a means of supressing and completely eliminating any social rights to Africans and people of color in general. I wrote:
“The penury laws used against Catholics in Ireland and the UK were also a basis for the racist laws against Africans and the indigenous people in the US. People of color in general. With the invention of the White Race, the Irish, who were referred to as savages and white chimpanzees by the English bourgeois became white and therefore the same race as the English.”
Before people of color from former British colonies began arriving in numbers, the anti-immigration hostility was directed at the Irish. It was once said that with the arrival of people from the Indian subcontinent the Irish got some breathing room. The Irish looked like us at least. (though not so if you don’t obsess about color as we do in the US.)
Another interesting aspect of this anti-Catholicism is in the US where Protestantism and white supremacy have become a twin force of oppression, is the inclusion of Catholics. When I first came to the US, I used to joke with one of my co-workers in particular who would often make jokes about white America that I wasn’t white, I’m Catholic. To be genuinely white one has to be Protestant. And let’s recall that the KKK were viciously anti-Catholic. But, for the same reason the Irish were made a part of the “White Race” after Bacon’s Rebellion in Colonial Virginia, bringing Catholics in to the club could shift the balance of forces between the European settler majority and the black population and people of color in general.
Here is the interesting history of my former school and the Catholic presence in my local town since the brutal days following the reformation. I am grateful to the moderator of the Banbury Memories page for posting it.
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| St John's Church |
St. John the Evangelist Church, South Bar, Banbury:
A Testament to Catholic Resilience and Revival
The Catholic Nadir in Post-Reformation Banbury
The Catholic presence in Banbury was virtually eradicated following Henry VIII's break with Rome in the 1530s. Unlike some parts of England where recusant families maintained the old faith in secret, Banbury became known as a staunchly Puritan stronghold by the early 17th century.
The town's fervent Protestant character was so renowned that the expression "as Puritan as Banbury" entered common parlance, referencing the zealous religious character of its inhabitants.
Under Elizabeth I, the Act of Uniformity (1559) had made attendance at Anglican services compulsory, while the Recusancy Acts imposed crippling fines on those who refused.
Catholic priests faced execution for treason if caught ministering to their flocks. During the Civil War period, Banbury's Parliamentary sympathies further cemented its anti-Catholic reputation.
The severe Penal Laws, systematically implemented between 1661 and 1673, effectively criminalised Catholic worship across England.
Catholics were barred from public office, prohibited from owning property beyond a limited value, and forbidden from establishing schools or sending their children abroad for Catholic education.
The First Stirrings of Revival
The gradual shift toward religious tolerance began with the first Catholic Relief Act of 1778, which permitted Catholics to own property and operate schools, though still excluding them from most civic functions.
The second Relief Act of 1791 legalized Catholic worship, provided it occurred in registered chapels without public ceremony.
It was against this backdrop of nascent tolerance that Father Pierre Jean Louis Hersent arrived in Banbury in 1802.
Hersent was not merely a "French émigré priest" but a former Canon of Avranches Cathedral who had refused to swear the oath to the Civil Constitution of the Clergy during the French Revolution. Fleeing the Terror in 1792, he initially found sanctuary in Jersey before making his way to England.
Hersent's early ministry in Banbury was conducted with remarkable discretion. Historical records indicate he initially celebrated Mass in private homes, primarily at the residence of the Bloxham family on Neithrop House.
These services would have been intimate gatherings of perhaps a dozen faithful, consisting mainly of other French émigrés and a small number of local Catholic families who had maintained their faith in private for generations.
From Hidden Faith to Public Presence
The establishment of the chapel at Overthorpe in 1806 represented more than just a "discrete place of worship." It marked the first registered Catholic place of worship in the area since the Reformation.
Located strategically just outside the town boundaries, the modest structure—essentially a converted barn on land owned by Catholic sympathizer Sir John Throckmorton—provided a crucial foothold for the community while remaining sufficiently removed from the town center to avoid inflaming local tensions.
Father Joseph Fox's arrival in 1830 coincided with the Catholic Emancipation Act of 1829, which finally removed most civil disabilities from Catholics.
Fox was not merely an assistant priest but a dynamic leader educated at the English College in Rome, who brought with him connections to the wider Catholic revival movement then gathering momentum throughout England.
The Bold Statement of St. John's
The decision to build a prominent church on South Bar—one of Banbury's most prestigious thoroughfares—was a calculated statement of Catholic confidence.
The land was purchased in 1832 for the then-considerable sum of £1,200, raised largely through donations from wealthy Catholic families including the Talbots of Shrewsbury and the Berkeleys of Spetchley Park.
Augustus Welby Northmore Pugin's involvement with St. John's represented more than just his architectural expertise. At just 26 years old when he began work on the church, Pugin was already developing the architectural philosophy he would later articulate in his influential work
"Contrasts" (1836), which positioned Gothic architecture as the authentic expression of Christian faith against what he viewed as the pagan influences of Classical architecture.
The church's construction faced not just "considerable opposition" but organised resistance.
Local records reveal that Protestant ministers petitioned against the building, while pamphlets circulated warning of "Popish plots" and the dangers of "Romish influence."
On at least two occasions, construction materials were vandalised, and workers harassed.
Despite these challenges, St. John's was completed and consecrated on September 5, 1838, by Bishop Thomas Griffiths, Vicar Apostolic of the London District.
The ceremony marked the first public Catholic procession in Banbury since the Reformation, with clergy in full regalia processing along South Bar—a powerful visual reclamation of Catholic identity.
Architectural and Cultural Significance
Pugin's design for St. John's, while modest compared to his later masterpieces, incorporated several distinctive elements that would become hallmarks of his style.
The church features the "honest" expression of materials he advocated, with exposed stonework rather than plaster interiors. The steeply pitched roof, prominent buttresses, and emphasis on vertical lines all reflect Pugin's belief that Gothic architecture directed the soul heavenward.
By 1842, Pugin had expanded his vision to include not just the presbytery (manse) and school but also a small convent for the Sisters of Mercy, who arrived in 1846 to teach at the school.
This created what Pugin termed a "complete Catholic community"—a microcosm of his ideal vision for society, where religious life was integrated with education and daily living.
Enduring Legacy
St. John's significance extends beyond its religious function. The church represents a crucial chapter in England's journey toward religious pluralism and tolerance.
Its establishment in Banbury—once a byword for Protestant zeal—symbolizes the gradual healing of religious divisions that had fractured English society for centuries.
The parish records, preserved in the Oxfordshire Archives, reveal a steadily growing congregation throughout the 19th century, swelled by Irish immigrants during the Famine years and later by Italian and Polish communities. This multicultural character remains evident in the parish to this day.
From its foundation, St. John the Evangelist Church has stood not merely as a place of worship but as a living monument to religious freedom and the resilience of faith through centuries of adversity—a testament to how a community once driven to the margins of society reclaimed its place in the spiritual and cultural landscape of Banbury.
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