CARDIFF COAL EXCHANGE

As a coincidental footnote to the previous blog (Nairn’s Cardiff) a new campaign to save the Cardiff Coal Exchange has been called for by the local MP, Stephen Doughty. In his commentary on Ian Nairn’s 1960’s essay on Cardiff Owen Hathersley noted of Butetown that “ The ‘Victorian commercial core of the utmost probity’ nearby is just left to (literally) rot, without the slightest attempt to connect it to the new centre.” At the heart of this is the Cardiff Coal Exchange the present condition of which is, by any measure, a disgrace. Mr Doughty is to be commended for calling for direct action from civic society. By that I mean those who have even a shred of self-respect as citizens of Cardiff – a city which was suggested to be ‘the best UK city to live in’ only last week[1]. (Which was of course duly translated into ‘one of the best in Europe’ by the reliably partisan local press[2]). 

The initiative may necessarily come from within for it is to those citizens of Cardiff that the value of the Cardiff Coal Exchange, expressed as Symbolic and Cultural Capital, belongs. 

Conservation of the Coal Exchange may not be seen as a priority elsewhere in Wales, and in the South Wales Valleys in particular. There the building may be regarded as a symbol of the exploitation of their communities to the advantage of the agents and middlemen of Cardiff who erected it solely for their personal economic gain. The Coal Exchange was not built by the pantomime villains of socialist folklore, the aristocratic or commercial elite of the day (the mining and shipping magnates), but by the emergent bourgeoisie. The autocratic power of the Second Marquess of Bute became a less decisive influence on the development of Cardiff after his death and during the period of the minority of his successor when the Bute estates were administered by Trustees (Davies 1981). Thereafter greater influence was evidenced by the growth of civic society and, particularly, those who prospered from the Bute investment in the infrastructure of Cardiff Docks – the so-called ‘wharf aristocracy’ or ‘Docksmen’. They themselves were, in their day, very distinct from the ‘Townsmen’ the latter being inclined to the conservative and the ‘Docksmen’, by their nature the speculators, chancers and grifters drawn to the potential fortunes to be made in the heyday of coal shipping (Daunton 1977).

As noted in the previous blog the siting of the Coal Exchange in Mountstuart Square was a consequence of, on the one hand, the failure of the original vision of the Second Marquess of Bute for a planned residential development and, on the other, the runaway success of coal exportation through his docks.  What had been a residential square in the Georgian manner became the centrepiece of that ‘Victorian commercial core of the utmost probity’ referred to by Ian Nairn. That was separated from the city by the remainder of Butetown which, before the original Loudon Square was completed, was falling somewhat short of ‘utmost probity’. “The Merthyr Guardian was describing the Bute Street area as ‘increasingly vile and abominable….keepers of public houses and brothels are gradually obtaining possession of the whole street…. Cardiff is gaining a world-wide reputation as one of the most immoral of seaports’. Nevertheless, even today, with much of Butetown demolished, enough remains of the original concept to provide a striking example of Victorian architecture and town-planning in what has been described as ‘perhaps the most tranquil and evocative commercial centre in Europe.” (Davies 1981 p200)

The availability of an open square was then a matter of circumstance but the building of the Coal Exchange was not promoted by the Third Marquess of Bute. It may be better seen as an opportunistic response of the Bute Estate to market demand as, from the terms of the lease, they were not doing the Docksmen any favours. The ground lease of the Coal Exchange was granted for 99 years in 1883 at a peppercorn for the first three years, £100 p.a. for the following two, £200 in the fifth, £700 for the following four years and thereafter £1,000 p.a. for the duration of the lease (Davies 1981 p196). The cost of construction was reputedly £60,000 so the return to the Bute Estate might be regarded a fully commercial rate for the ground. By the reckoning of Daunton (1977) this would be a significantly better percentage return than that enjoyed on the massive financial investment in constructing the docks and also involve much lower risk. The docks, however, created the demand whereby the Bute Estate could exploit their monopoly position on land in central Cardiff.

What may then be considered in passing are the economic consequences. By the mid 1880’s we can, for example, make some fine distinction between the Third Marquess of Bute and the various companies controlled by the Bute Estate. Whereas the second Marquess had been an autocrat who built and controlled a fledgling organisation his son inherited, via the trustees and the period of his minority, distinct commercial enterprises which had wider corporate responsibilities. These commercial organisations had to service the financial demands of the Third Marquess to fund his many interests -including architectural and other patronage- whilst maintaining the economic viability of the various commercial enterprises. In simple terms one can then sketch out a chain whereby costs incurred by the Third Marquess (gold stars on bedroom ceiling) are funded by increased harbour duties, mineral royalties and ground rents on Coal Exchanges. These in turn are then passed through the middlemen, shippers, colliery owners to the source of production. They in turn cut costs (thinner beams in coal seam ceiling) and, for every extra halfpenny a ton abstracted in Cardiff all those underground in the valleys had to shovel that much harder.

This is of course a simplified – or simplistic- outline of the cause and effect of the commercial self- interest of the ultimate beneficiaries of coal production, many of whom were based in Cardiff and, in particular, those intermediaries that made their money from brokerage. This emergent bourgeoisie had, in the main, little personal connection with Cardiff let alone its hinterland. Simply by looking at the population statistics in that period of exponential growth would establish that most of the residents would be, at best, first generation Cardiffians. In reality the majority of those involved in coal shipping had been attracted to the area solely in pursuit of personal gain. However unenlightened their self-interest it nevertheless produced lasting benefit for the city. The construction of the Coal Exchange was as important a contribution to the infrastructure of the (then) town as the cultural, educational and administrative buildings at Cathays Park and elsewhere. The Coal Exchange firmly established Cardiff’s dominance as the commercial and economic centre of South Wales and, thereby, its supremacy in the urban hierarchy. Although it was supplanted by Barry in the tonnage of coal exported Cardiff remained the centre of the coal trade. And by that time Cardiff had, of course, been designated a city. It may then be argued that, from the outset, the principal beneficiaries of such buildings have been the people of Cardiff.

Theoretically there should not then be the expectation that the salvation of the building be funded by those outside the city. There are those who will, on the foregoing grounds, view the Coal Exchange as simply a monument to Victorian venality and oppose any wider financial contribution to its restoration. Taking such line of reasoning to its (il)logical conclusion we might briefly consider the case of Cardiff Castle which has, over the course, been a symbol of Roman, Norman, Plantagenet and feudal subjugation of the indigenous population and was elaborately and expensively restored largely through their indirect exploitation during the 19^th century[3]. Lesser cases would be Duffryn House and gardens, Insole Court or any other edifices erected on the proceeds of coal mining and shipping. Blaenavon is a World Heritage site, Big Pit is maintained by our National Museum and there is a tollbooth in St Fagans. In fact many of Britain’s most cherished heritage attractions are the legacy of far more oppressive exploitation both here and, more particularly, overseas.

The converse argument is therefore that architecture and landscape is the repository of our collective memory and we simply recognise the past for what it is. Our common heritage. The ascendancy of Cardiff and the other major urban centres through the abstraction and exportation of coal is absolutely central to the story of modern Wales. The Coal Exchange may be seen to symbolise the epicentre of that trade and consequent development. The Victorian Society consider the building one of Wales’ most important landmarks and that society (unsuccessfully) campaigned to save the London Coal Exchange from deliberate demolition rather than neglect. The Cardiff Exchange probably has less importance in terms of architectural history than that.

Architecturally the work of Edwin Seward may be considered better represented elsewhere in the city. Recent works to the Cardiff Royal Infirmary display those buildings to greater advantage and the Old- Old -Old Central Library in the Hayes considered by some his finest building (Newman 2004 p211). (The conversion of the latter to the ill- fated Centre for Visual Arts may perhaps be noted as regards any suggestion as to where the future use of Coal Exchange may lie)  The ‘debased French Renaissance vocabulary’ of the exterior elevations of the Coal Exchange are less remarkable and the architectural value of the building is largely in its lobby and trading hall (Newman 2004). To some extent that argument has already been lost as successive planning consents have permitted significant alterations including the threat of extensive demolition and retention of the facades. It is probable that public access to the lobby and hall would have been very restricted had the Macob consent for conversion of the building to residential use proceeded. It remains, however, a listed building of some architectural importance and more social and historic significance.

However, after all the above is said one has to question whether any cultural heritage case or argument is really the best way forward. We can turn now to the Welsh Government who devote proportionately less resources to a) Cadw than are allocated to the equivalent bodies in other regions of the UK and b) Visit Wales whose marketing in part promotes that heritage. This may be underlined by the recent decision of the Welsh Government leadership that the Cabinet does not need a Culture Minister. In the first instance their attention may best be arrested by suggesting that the current predicament of the Coal Exchange is a direct result of the negligence of their officers. This may be outlined by moving to the more recent history of the Coal Exchange.

The Cardiff Bay Development Corporation  acquired the Coal Exchange in 1988. At that time it was in multiple occupation having been previously acquired by a company called Control Securities who had carried out alterations and ‘improvements’ in anticipation that the building would be the home of a Welsh Assembly following the devolution vote of 1979. The proposal for regional devolution at that time was defeated by a majority of 4:1 (20.3% for and 79.4% against) with only 12% of electorate voting in favour of establishing an assembly. Neil Kinnock was one of six south Wales Labour MPs who campaigned against devolution on centralist, essentially British-nationalist grounds. When the Coal Exchange was owned by CBDC it housed, among others, the offices of Mrs Glenys Kinnock MEP. There was, in fact, a multiplicity of tenants and both this and nearby buildings around Mountstuart Square enjoyed something of a false dawn, particularly during the period of CBDC’s operational lifetime. Animation and design companies, a theatre group in the former St Stephens church, artists studios and a host of other activities which were attracted initially by the relatively low cost space in that area and then by the presence of complementary activity. New bars and restaurants opened and there was a lively music scene with The Dowlais, The Exchange itself and other venues (the fabled Casablanca Club was an early casualty).

CBDC formulated various proposals for the restoration and adaptive re-use of the Coal Exchange. The estimated costs were somewhere north of £10m and commercial companies were invited to tender on the basis that they would undertake that work. In short, such capital expenditure was to be a condition of such sale. Macob were selected having bid something in the region of £800k. At that time the rental income for the hall and various offices and other occupiers in CBDC's time may have been in the region of £400k a year. Subsequently the building was vacated of tenants in anticipation of major development. Following the dissolution of CBDC it would appear that the property was sold by the Welsh Government in 2001 without the condition to spend the £10m + on immediate repairs and refurbishment. The figure reported in the property press at the time was £500k for the 200,000 sq ft building (£2.50 per square foot).

Macob, to their credit, allowed continued use of the hall as a music and function venue and many notable events happened there. I would make it absolutely clear that John Roberts of Macob is a decent and honest man who extended the use of the Coal Exchange Hall as a music venue at some considerable personal expense. However, Macob - then effectively under the control of another individual- subsequently revised the proposals for the building from those originally presented to CBDC to a residential development which would have seen the hall closed as a music venue and reduced to a form of atrium.  On securing consent for that development the building was re-mortgaged at the then market peak and, in the subsequent recession, represented negative equity. The residential development did not proceed. John Roberts resumed personal control of Macob, re-opened the hall for a time and started carrying out some essential repairs and refurbishment on the building. This has been a losing cause in the economic climate of recent years and, as is now the case, has resulted in the company that owns the building going into liquidation.

More recently there was action by Cardiff City Council who invoked legislation which may have led to a coercive acquisition of the building from Macob. That action might have been regarded as an enterprising and entrepreneurial attempt to restore the position that had been achieved by CBDC but proved to be abortive. Alternatively their action may be expressed as a cynical and opportunistic attempt to secure an asset which was bought and paid for by the taxpayer via CBDC and sold, either incompetently or corruptly, by officials of the Welsh Government in 2001. There is therefore a case for formal public investigation into the recent history of the Coal Exchange to determine whether incompetence or corruption of public officials placed it in the hands of Macob. The question that needs to be addressed concerns the terms of the sale to Macob by the Welsh Government. The fault and any blame in this sorry affair would appear to lie squarely with the latter.

If, as is rehearsed above, the Cardiff Coal Exchange is held to be Cardiff’s problem then, at a minimum, some claim may be made by the city on The Welsh Government for financial assistance by way of reparation for the negligence of their officers.

That then deals with the issue as to how the attention of the Welsh Government may be arrested as regards the future of the building. The blame game will not, however, save it. The future of it, and Mountstuart Square was probably at the feet of the Cardiff Bay Development Corporation in that brief renaissance. Rather than be distracted or impeded by the cultural and heritage issues outlined above the future of the Coal Exchange is probably not a Grand Projet but in the fields of entertainment, education and experiment. A community led project which would see the restoration of the building as an extended exercise in building restoration skills led in part by local universities and FE Colleges. Conservation and traditional building skills are desperately needed across Wales and the Coal Exchange could provide hands on experience to students for several years.

For the sake of clarity I will elaborate on this. In my view students of architecture, engineering or other constructions would benefit as much from seven weeks on the trowels as seven years on Autocad. As to the crafts I am not suggesting some Equal Opportunity Community Youth Training Work Experience venture. I would be more inclined to an elite cadre comprising the best four or five students in each of the ‘biblical skills’ selected from the FE Colleges of Cardiff and its neighbouring boroughs. These should be selected on merit and superior ability not proportional representation, allocation, sex, creed, colour or by virtue of being distantly related to the Board Member of a Welsh Institution. The objective would be for them to leave after a year of advanced applied education and be recognised as the leading practitioners of their craft in their generation. Training which is informed by the pursuit of excellence and leads directly to highly skilled jobs.

This will, in turn produce relatively low cost accommodation of some quality which can be occupied across a range of uses.  As Jane Jacobs observed over fifty years ago – ‘new ideas need old buildings’. Obviously this challenges the fixation of our politicians with shiny new buildings on roundabouts but the Welsh Government should have seen the error of that way. Was not the Techniums Fiasco a contributory factor in bringing about the ultimate demise of the Welsh Development Agency? As may be observed from the preceding blog more locally much of what has replaced older buildings is not very good.

The origins of the Coal Exchange and cultural/ heritage baggage of its distant past are then as little if we can posit a future where it is possessed for the common good. That can be guided by the intelligent and inventive thinking that has informed the effective regeneration and adaptive re –use of older buildings elsewhere. Among these are, for example, the Custard Factory, Birmingham and The Melting Pot, Edinburgh. The Coal Exchange offers the advantages of an outstanding venue in the hall and a wider variety of potential use around in the building. This could include low cost foyer style residential accommodation in one wing, studios in another. In its commercial heyday the building had restaurants, a gentleman’s club and a wine merchant in the lower floor. More recently Mountstuart Square has doubled up as a Dalek devastated London. Somewhere between the two is a future for the Coal Exchange.

If you have any thoughts on that Mr Doughty, who represents Cardiff South and Penarth, can be contacted at stephen.doughty.mp@parliament.uk

References

Daunton, M. J. (1977). Coal Metropolis Cardiff 1870-1914. Leicester, Leicester University press.

              

Davies, J. (1981). Cardiff and the Marquesses of Bute. Wales, University of Wales Press.

              

Newman, J. (2004). The Buildings of Wales: Glamorgan. London, Yale University Press.

              

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[1] http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/business-29174074

[2] http://www.walesonline.co.uk/news/wales-news/cardiff-voted-one-best-cities-7503586

[3] A future blog will deal with the Pembrokes who preceded the Butes as lords of Cardiff castle.

Nairn’s Cardiff

An appreciation of Nairn’s Towns (2013 Notting Hill Editions)

The reprinting of Ian Nairn’s collection of pieces from The Listener magazine during the 1960’s presents the opportunity to appreciate how prescient his writing about places was. Those who have more recently revisited Outrage (Nairn 1955) may agree that so much of what he feared and predicted has come to pass. The essays collected in Nairn’s Towns are, however, even more specific to place and many of the themes and issues raised can be reconsidered in the case of those locations with which we are most familiar. In my case the Cardiff of the 1960’s described by Ian Nairn remained recognisable through the following decade and many of his observations still ring true some fifty years later . This note is offered as a supplement to his essay on that city, one which revisits and develops some of his observations and themes with the advantage of hindsight. There have been very significant physical changes in Cardiff but the underlying issues in Nairn’s writing have proved to be enduring.

For example, in the second paragraph of his essay he describes the aspect of the city presented on leaving Cardiff Central railway station as the embodiment of T.S Eliot’s ‘shabby equipment always deteriorating’. The ‘joke modern’ Empire Pool has of course since disappeared but been replaced by Even-More-Of-A-Joke-Post- Modern and even less digestible slices of ‘commercial hackwork’. As Owen Hathersley observes in his editorial footnote to Nairn’s piece, in Cardiff a lot of replacement equipment has degraded from flashy to trashy rather too quickly.

It is now planned that the prospect from the Central Station will be graced with a new regional headquarters for the British Broadcasting Corporation to be designed by the Foster Partnership. This then echoes another theme in Nairn’s discourse, that of the domination of those “London firms …dumping down their most slapdash agglomerations.” Much of his short essay is concerned with the lack of a distinctive architectural style in the city and the dominance of external influence. He comments that “Most of the local firms seem happy to follow the well-beaten trail of mediocrity”, the one notable exception at that time noted as the Alex Gordon Partnership. Even this was qualified, the designer of the (then modern) building singled out by Nairn for praise being an Englishman. This may be seen to have been be a persistent trend in the intervening period and buildings by Welsh architects of note are the exception to illustrate, if not prove, the rule suggested by Nairn in the 1960’s. Of their work a debate may be had on Nairn’s implication that such exceptions are notable in being rooted in the vernacular, as might whether the question as to why ‘the Welsh are no good at visual things’ posed in his third paragraph may still be relevant fifty years later. The real issue may, however, be about confidence in the commissioning of architecture.

An argument may be advanced that the lack of such confidence in Cardiff is embedded in the DNA of the place. In its period of most significant growth from the 1830’s it may be said to have been built by the Irish for a Scot and was, outside the largely mediaeval settlement boundary, a planted settlement and, in effect, a company town. New development took place mainly on the landed estates of the Marquesses of Bute and subsequently on those of Lords Tredegar to the east and Plymouth to the west. The development of aristocratic estates elsewhere in Britain informed the initial planned development of Butetown and the architectural style adopted was essentially late Georgian. 

Only fragments of such development have survived from the time of the Second Marquess of Bute and much of what remained had already been, or was being cleared by the time of Nairn’s essay. This was an aspirational form of urban extension by the Second Marquess of Bute and, had it succeeded, might have imposed a more enduring (but imported) architectural style on the city. The reasons for its failure are more fully detailed by others (Daunton 1977, Davies 1981, Davies 1982, Davies 2009) but the construction of the railways, essential to the success of the Bute Docks and growth of coal exportation, made Butetown an unattractive location for wealthier residential occupiers who relocated to new development north of the main line railway. Butetown and Newtown became and remained literally the ‘wrong side of the tracks’ and dominated by the ‘mean stucco terraces’ referred to by Nairn.

The direct route from Cardiff Castle to the Pierhead intended by the Second Marquess of Bute perhaps had some symbolic civic intent and in that respect it also failed. Bute Street became, as Nairn accurately describes it, the major thoroughfare of the “Tiger Bay of lurid legend…. A straight mile of shops and cafes facing the long dockyard wall: suicidal, but in an almost noble way….” His observation that everyone he spoke to seemed to say that the wild days of Tiger Bay were ‘just before their time’ has the ring of truth. Certainly, in my experience, anyone who even referred to the area as ‘Tiger Bay’ could be viewed with some suspicion. The Docks, as Butetown was more generally known, certainly remained a distinctly separate part of the city and, if not quite ‘lurid’ certainly offered more alternative forms of entertainment than could be found north of the railway. Although the heart had been torn from it and the shops and cafes of Bute Street replaced with what Nairn described as “a council estate of well- intentioned but implacable aridity” there remained sufficient pockets of misbehaviour to attract those in relentless pursuit of the elusive good time until the 1980’s ( see http://rhcroydon.blogspot.co.uk/2013/08/and-now-its-deja-bayview-again.html )

In the 1980’s a new wave of even more comprehensive redevelopment, by then called ‘regeneration’, was undertaken and history repeated itself with another attempt to physically connect the city centre with the waterfront 150 years after Lord Bute’s initial development. The result is what, in his footnote to Nairn’s essay, Owen Hathersley dismisses as “… a ‘boulevard’ of shocking banality” slicing the dispiritingly cheap and tacky restaurants and miserable flats from the council estate of Bute Town. A fuller and no less damning appraisal of what is now called Lloyd George Avenue is offered by Professor John Punter who outlines the original design aspirations for that project (Punter 2006). The intentions of the promoters of this later development were, perhaps, even more expressly symbolic than those of the Second Marquess of Bute. Originally referred to as ‘The Mall’ and with clearly stated aspirations that it would provide a form of ceremonial route the promotion was accompanied by much rhetoric. Also, to echo the earlier theme of imported design raised by Nairn, the promoters sought to purchase the cultural capital represented by the international reputation of David Mackay of MBM and thereby their association with the Olympic Village at Barcelona. It was clearly intended to be something more than a wider than average residential thoroughfare but it failed to achieve that.  What now exists bears very little resemblance to the design purchased from David Mackay and the reasons for this are more complex than may be outlined here. What can be said simply is that the original design was not executed as intended and  the reason for the failure of Lloyd George Avenue does not lay in the observation made in 1951 by Sir Hugh Casson that the British do not like rhetoric in their buildings and that there are surprisingly few ceremonial avenues in our cities (Brunius and Harvey 1952). Cardiff is an exception in that respect. The intended dimension of Lloyd George Avenue were those of King Edward VII Avenue in Cardiff’s civic centre at Cathays Park which Nairn describes as “..the one piece of planning for which Cardiff is famous – and by which local worthies convince themselves that the face of the city is perfect….”. He is largely dismissive of all but the City Hall and states that “..the other buildings form a stone zoo, one weary neo-Classical hulk after another, lumped down on a regular grid. No shops, wide pavements, parked cars, everything at one removed from life.”

In many respects Nairn is correct in that Cathays Park is something of an aberration, a capacious compound dominated by imported Edwardian architectural styles. That is, however, what makes it unique as were the circumstances which brought it into being and conserved its purely civic function. The construction of a civic centre in that form was made possible by its retention in the single ownership of the Bute family and its sale to the city in 1898. At the insistence of the Third Marquess of Bute the form of permitted development was widely spaced buildings and avenues and the use of the park was restricted to civic, educational and cultural functions, any commercial activity being expressly prohibited. This has had significant consequences for the city to the present day which are outside the scope of these notes. Here it is only noted that the availability of nearly 60 acres in the heart of the town of over 150,000 people at the end of the 19^th century presented a unique opportunity at a time when the exportation of coal through the port of Cardiff was reaching the peak of its growth and prosperity. The procurement of Cathays Park by the Corporation marked the ascendancy of civic society although, as already noted, the influence and patronage of the Bute estate remained a persistent factor not least in the establishment of those institutions which consolidated Cardiff’s position as the dominant urban centre in Wales.

The antithesis of Nairn’s essay is that written by Dewi Prys Thomas in praise of the architect of the main University College Building (now Cardiff University) of 1909 (Thomas 1983). The latter evokes his personal memories of seeing Cathays Park for the first time in 1934 when those original Edwardian buildings stood in relative isolation in what he describes as being comparatively open parkland.

“A vast urban space stretched before me towards distant domed buildings. They were white. Unreal to my northern eyes, they shimmered in the glow of late summer. No Welsh Office impeded a prospect which, I felt sure, could not be bettered by the Tuilleries Gardens. And the broad avenue flanked by venerable elms, at its far end a magnificent white campanile, must shame even the Champs Elysees.”

Much infill had taken place by the time of Nairn’s visit and has taken place since. Furthermore his remarks in 1967 on the increased number of cars parked in the area since 1964 are apposite in that the avenues and the spaces between buildings are now largely filled with parked cars during the day. It remains, however, possible to stand in Alexandra Gardens at the centre of the park (where the unbroken ranks of vehicles are screened by hedges) and imagine that sense of space and of large, white buildings set amongst trees appreciated by Dewi Prys Thomas. Thomas is very much more appreciative of the individual buildings and a point which may be made in passing here is that he was a gifted architectural teacher and practitioner who perhaps displayed the talents that Nairn sought in a regional architect. His design of the headquarters of Gwynedd County Council at Caernarfon attests his skill and, moreover, both the humour and humanity that Nairn attributes to the Welsh. On the matter of urbanism it is also interesting that Thomas helped Alwyn Lloyd and Herbert Jackson in the development of the South Wales Outline Plan of 1949 (Lloyd and Jackson 1949). This also takes a very different view of Cathays Park to that expressed by Nairn and makes particular reference to the expanses of parkland in Central Cardiff, again a direct legacy of aristocratic landownership through preceding centuries. This is specifically referred to as ‘beneficial’ through “.. the incidence of what we should now describe as ‘zoning’ in the structure of its plan……Consequently the centre of Cardiff and the chief streets disposed around the castle escaped the mixture of industry with business and residential streets that so often mars the centres of other cities.”

The negative effect of such ‘zoning’ has perhaps been touched upon earlier by reference to the consignment of the area south of the railway to low quality housing and industry and this is dealt with at some length by Daunton (1977). By Nairn’s account Cathays Park “sealed off the city from its northern suburbs” and, whilst there is a distinct physical separation it is questionable whether this is detrimental to the northern part of the city. The city centre has, with the constraints imposed by the river and railways, remained distinct and, even within that perimeter, has experienced significant decline, change, redevelopment and resurgence. In that respect Cathays Park cannot be said to have had an adverse impact on the commercial health or vitality of the retail and business core of the city. A factor which Nairn observed in 1967 which has had more noticeable impact is traffic which has been effectively removed from the retail core but, because of the restrictions imposed by the river and parkland, is now channelled between the Castle/ Cathays Park and the retail core or supplements the barrier of the main line railway between the city centre and Butetown by its diversion to the south.

A few more points may be made on issues relating to Cathays Park. In his footnote to Nairn’s essay Owen Hathersley is more forgiving of the individual buildings but encapsulates in his choice of words the essential character of the place. By referring to the “..  single –use, monolithic authoritarianism..” of the ensemble Hathersley, perhaps unintentionally, underlines that it has become the economic  location of choice for filmmakers wishing to recreate the Berlin of the Third Reich.  Notwithstanding the prohibition on commercial use of the park, its accessible and available collection of fine Speeriod property seem to find a ready market for such use. We are thus treated to the darkly amusing paradox of the Temple of Peace doubling as the Pentagon or Reich Chancellery.  In this respect alone it might, by association, be seen to represent “…an utterly alien model for urban improvement” as Nairn suggests. 

That is, of course, guilt by fictional association and it would be interesting to ponder on what Nairn would have made of a building which is the real deal, the former Welsh Office, now Welsh Government building built in the 1970’s. Designed by the one firm singled out by Nairn for praise, the Alex Gordon Partnership (see above) it could be said that its architectural influences are truly international. A forbidding example of Cold War architecture squatting above an underground command centre it is a defensible structure which shares many design features with Kensington Barracks. The Architects Journal called it ‘a symbol of closed inaccessible government’, conveying an impression of ‘bureaucracy under siege’ (Newman 2004). (Some may see this as the embodiment of form following function.)

That building has, since Nairn’s visits, been supplemented by another in Cardiff Bay which is referred to by Owen Hathersley in his footnote.  It must be noted that the debating chamber of the Welsh Assembly – The Senedd- also echoes that dominant theme of Nairn’s essay which is the provincial lack of confidence in the commissioning of architecture and the persistent practice of importing an ‘established brand’. In this respect the selection of the (Lord) Rogers Partnership looked, to some, suspiciously like a foregone conclusion. (One very distinguished academic presciently remarking some time before the competition that the winner would inevitably be one of ‘the Three Tenors of architecture’). It also calls to question the earlier quotation from Sir Hugh Casson that “the British do not like rhetoric in their buildings” as it swept in on waves of it. Several architectural writers question the validity of claims that architecture can accurately represent the forms of government of those who inhabit it (Sudjic and Jones 2001, Vale 2008, Meades 2012). In this case it is debateable that the Senedd building represents an ‘open and democratic’ form of regional government for, as Owen Hathersley notes, to enter it one must negotiate ‘airport style security’. A more cynical observer might look below the superficial superstructure and note that the occupants administer second-hand-me-down power crouched underground behind walls encircled by tank traps.

We return then to the Bute influence on the city and ‘the glorious absurdity’ of William Burges’ Victorian fantasias of Cardiff Castle and Castell Coch. Again we can say that this has little to do with Wales and the Welsh. These are, like Cathays Park, a complete aberration and of a very different architectural stripe. They are, as Nairn suggests, the work of a joker but it is questionable as to whether their location in Cardiff was in any way influential in the design. The Third Marquess of Bute was reputedly one of the richest men in the world at the time and could afford extremely elaborate follies pretty much anywhere. It may be the case, as Jonathan Meades mischievously suggests that “Between them Bute and Burgess suffered religious mania, opium addiction and tertiary syphilis- the trinity of afflictions that made high Victorian architecture glorious. It was religious mania that determined that the styles that were acceptable. But it was in laudanum and venereally founded madness that determined the manner of their interpretation” (Meades 2012 p195).

This may be more plausible than any association with the High Victorian Gothic ideals of Ruskin and Pugin and adherence to the architectural principles they espoused. The third Marquess of Bute rented Chiswick House, the very epitome of the Palladian style, as a London residence and, later, St Johns Lodge in John Nash’s Regents Park. Both represent forms of architecture directly opposite those idealised by the promoters of the Gothic Revival.

Nairn makes passing reference to the “implacable Victorian gables” of Cathedral Road but otherwise makes none to the suburbs north of the city centre which evidence the influence of Bute and Burges on the appearance of the city. Where his father, the Second Marquess, had failed to impose a lasting order on planned settlement, the Third Marquess had a far more enduring impact on its character. Nairn states that the development along the eastern side of Cathays Park did not redress the balance of the architecture and there is indeed something of a disjoint. However the architecture of Park Place and Cathedral Road largely pre-dated the construction of Cathays Park and should be considered in the context of the Castle. It is necessary to see those buildings flanking what were then the castle grounds, now Cathays Park and Sophia Gardens. From the southern end of both Park Place and Cathedral Road one can still discern a hierarchy of later Victorian architecture, the grander buildings taking their cue from Burges’ Park House. 

As with the later Georgian form favoured in the time of the Second Marquess this may again be seen to be an alien or imported style. The larger and earliest of these buildings have a vaguely ‘Scottish’ character but this moves to something which has been called ‘Cardiff Gothic’ and the dominant features are those gables, bay windows, trefoil arches and other devices which one may associate with that (Edwards 2005 A, Edwards 2005 B). This evolves further and, through the imposition of a form of design coding by the Bute (and other major aristocratic estates to east and west) a uniformity of style and materials. These are, particularly on the Bute estate lands, imposed on a form of estate development which itself follows the hierarchy of earlier Georgian estate development based upon squares, gardens, avenues and streets. The larger houses incorporate all the features and the smaller less.

This then reached its apex in the prosperous Edwardian suburbs when Cardiff was at its peak of commercial prosperity relatively (Long 1993). There is still a remarkable degree of architectural cohesion in areas such as Roath Park and Penylan with fine variations in the detail between groups of houses but overall feeling of unity in materials and general style. As to whether this is a good thing is largely subjective. What may be noted here is that the character of Victorian and Edwardian Cardiff was dictated by the estate development policy of those landed estates, principally those of the Butes. Unlike other industrial cities there was little opportunity for individual architectural expression of the late Victorian and Edwardian nouveau riche. We then refer back, in conclusion, to Nairn’s observations on regional architectural identity with the suggestion that architectural patronage was constrained from the outset in an area which has been fruitful for innovation and development of individual style- the Commissioned House. 

Overall this may be offset by the amenity level afforded through the extensive parkland and smaller public spaces created through such estate development policy. As regards the beneficial aspects of such development the self-interest of the aristocratic land owners need not automatically be prefixed with the word ‘enlightened’. As Daunton (1977) explains there was an underlying commercial rationale in the creation of such amenity and Cardiff is exceptional largely by having one dominant landowner who inspired its development from the 1830’s and a few others who followed suit in its Victorian and Edwardian suburban development. Nairn very accurately reads the eventual impact and outcome of that regime in his visits to the city in the 1960’s and, as hopefully outlined, many of his observations remain relevant to this day. It is in this respect that greater familiarity with the subject matter of his writing on the built environment provides even greater appreciation of its quality and his perspicacity.

References

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Daunton, M. J. (1977). Coal Metropolis Cardiff 1870-1914. Leicester, Leicester University press.

              

Davies, J. (1981). Cardiff and the Marquesses of Bute. Wales, University of Wales Press.

              

Davies, J. (1982). Aristocratic town-makers and the coal metropolis : the marquesses of Bute and the growth of Cardiff 1776-1947. Patricians, Power and Politics in 19thC Towns D. Carradine. Leicester, Leicester University Press: 18-67.

              

Davies, J. (2009). The Making of Wales, The History Press.

              

Edwards, J. (2005 A). Burges- Influence over the Victorian terraced house. Cardiff, Cardiff City Council.

              

Edwards, J. (2005 B). External Treatment to Vistorian housing. Cardiff, Cardiff City Council.

              

Lloyd, T. A. and H. Jackson (1949). South Wales Outline Plan. M. o. T. a. C. Planning. London, HMSO.

              

Long, H. C. (1993). The Edwardian house : the middle-class home in Britain 1880-1914

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Meades, J. (2012). Museum Without Walls. London, Unbound.

              

Nairn, I. (1955). Outrage. London, The Architectural Press.

              

Newman, J. (2004). The Buildings of Wales: Glamorgan. London, Yale University Press.

              

Punter, J. (2006). Cardiff Bay: An example of design led regeneration. Capital Cardiff 1975-2020. A. Hooper and J. Punter. Wales, University of Wales Press.

              

Sudjic, D. and H. Jones (2001). Architecture and Democracy. London, Laurence King.

              

Thomas, D.-P. (1983). A Quiet Dignity... William Caroe and the visual presence. Fountains of Praise - University College, cardiff 1883-1983. M. Jones and M. Quinn. Cardiff, University College cardiff Press.

              

Vale, L. (2008). Architecture,Power and National Identity. London, Routledge.