Bruce Bell – History Columnist –
In the secular yet multicultural and multifaith world that Toronto is today, it might be hard to conceive just how powerful the Cathedral Church of St. James and the man who helmed it were during most of the 19th century.
Still a force to be reckoned with, St. James is a document carved in stone and etched in stained glass. This magnificent English Gothic-inspired cathedral is the fifth Anglican church to stand on the northeast corner of King and Church Streets.
The first church building was a small, one-room, wooden structure begun in 1803. It was on land set aside in 1797 when soldiers from Fort York began to clear away trees on the outskirts of town. When the church opened in 1807, it was simply called the English church.
As the town grew so did the church, and by 1818 the tiny building had almost doubled its original size.
In 1830, after the church had become the seat of the Anglican bishop and consecrated as the Cathedral Church of St. James, it was rebuilt in stone.
After a fire in 1839, the church was rebuilt and could accommodate 2,000 worshipers. A tall wooden spire containing the city’s public clock dominated the city skyline.
On the morning of April 7, 1849, a great fire tore through the downtown core of Toronto, destroying the fourth St. James. In the aftermath, the city we know today was born with the construction of St. Lawrence Hall, a new courthouse on Adelaide Street, and the 7th post office on Toronto Street. The present Cathedral Church of St. James opened for service in 1853.
The yellow brick cathedral was designed by the architectural firm of Cumberland and Storm, but it took almost another quarter of a century before architect Henry Langley gave it the tallest spire in Canada in 1875.
Within the church spire are 12 new hand-rung bells placed there in 1997 on the 200th anniversary of the founding of the church. The late Queen Elizabeth II and the Duke of Edinburgh attended the dedication.
Also in the tower is the great four-sided clock with its own ten automated carillon-style chime bells used to chime every quarter of an hour and ring for services when the hand-rung bells are not used.
The clock, illuminated for the first time on December 24, 1875, was a gift to the city of Toronto from its citizens. The whirling gears to this marvelous Victorian contraption are encased under glass and have a brass plate stating JW BENSON WATCH AND CLOCK MAKER – BY APPOINTMENT TO HRH THE PRINCE OF WALES.
Modern-day legend has it that just before Covid-19 landed in our city in 2020, lightning struck the clock and left it stuck at 12 o’clock ever since. I’ve heard that they are working on fixing it, waiting for an elusive part.
For most of the nineteenth century, St. James was under the influence of its first bishop, John Strachan, one of the most powerful and influential men who ever lived in Toronto.
Strachan arrived in York in 1812 to be the rector of the church and teacher to the sons of the so-called Family Compact, the powerful and rich group of families of which Strachan was to become the undisputed leader.
As the power of the church grew, so did the power of Strachan, the most dominant man in Toronto’s history. His word from the pulpit would be the law of the land: God, King, Country, Church and Strachan.
The church then was for one class of people: the ruling class. Probably no other symbol in Toronto today makes this point more than the stained-glass window with King George V at its centre in St. George’s Chapel just to the right as you enter the cathedral.
This beautifully inlaid window, the last gasp of the British Empire, was gifted to the church by the Cawthra family in 1935 on the 25th anniversary of the king’s accession to the throne. At the top of the window, just under the symbol of a dove and starburst representing God, is George V (King Charles’s great-grandfather).
Canada, the country that not only paid for but also houses the window, is symbolized by a lumberjack holding a toque in hand.
While the British Empire is in the past, St James still commands a special spot for Torontonians. It even sports a “Welcome All” sign out front – something that would have John Strachan, who died in 1867, rolling in his crypt (where he lies today beneath the altar).
