RIP - Rev R Morgan Llewellyn, CB, OBE, OStJ, DL (STAFF, 95-05)

When I learned I had been appointed Headmaster of Christ College, my headmaster at the time gave me three bits of advice. 1. “Have no secrets from your chairman; 2. get the best catering manager available; and 3. appoint the best chaplain you can find….and good luck finding one!!” How lucky could a wet-behind- the-ears headmaster have been? I didn’t have to scour the land for a chaplain. Morgan was already there.

Prior to the pre-term gathering to meet all the teachers for the first time,  I had been given a pen-portrait of each member of staff accompanied by a hastily assembled staff team photo. I learned that when the previous school chaplain had died suddenly , Morgan, who had been a minor canon at this cathedral, had stepped in at no notice to cover the vacant chaplaincy duties at Christ College, being formally appointed to the staff by my predecessor in 1995. My crib sheet finished with, “Oh, and by the way, he used to be a Major General, a proper soldier.” That focused the mind. After all, I had been a second lieutenant in my previous school’s CCF.

At the dining hall my deputy was making the introductions. “Headmaster,” he said, “This is the chaplain, Morgan Llewellyn.”

“Hello Sir”, said my chaplain, shaking hands. I fear I burst out laughing and had to explain to a slightly non-plussed Morgan, the incongruity of  2nd Lt Jones being called “Sir” by a Major General.  Morgan…..phew!!....also saw the funny side, and giggled as he so often did subsequently.  Instantly I felt warmth and being in a pair of very safe hands.

Morgan probably had a job description, but I was instantly aware that for us both it was a case of BEING as much as doing. Yes, he taught Religious Studies. Yes he led the daily and Sunday services for the school, but he was so much more than that. He lived as he preached, with total authenticity. Looking after the pastoral well-being of 400plus individuals, teenagers, boys and girls, boarding, 24/7 , three terms a year….what could possibly go wrong?..., was meat and drink for him. His influence stretched far beyond the classroom and school chapel, far beyond everyday care for the pupils. Morgan’s warmth, concern and support embraced every member of the school community….boys, girls, teachers, support staff, carpenters, cleaners and cooks. . Why did we all have instant respect for , and rapport with, him and a readiness to talk? Well, unfailing courtesy, extreme modesty, an ability to listen intently before offering carefully measured opinions, plus a lurking sense of humour, will do for a start.  

….and here I must apologise to Polly , who might have anticipated a quiet curate’s wife existence with Morgan and their family (about whom , I may add, he always spoke with great tenderness), enjoying all these qualities just mentioned. Instead, he lived on site at the school, where everyone knew that at any hour we had access to Morgan’s time, experience and wise counsel. I was no exception and, aside from our official weekly meetings I knew I could seek his advice on sensitive matters, assured of confidentiality, adamantine principle, sometimes straight speaking and lots of laughter. I learned very quickly that Morgan set the bar very high in all matters of standards

Morgan did, of course, go home and still holds the land speed record from Brecon to Llangattock. On one occasion he spied a police speed trap and proceeded to flash his lights at every approaching car….before realizing another car was behind him, also with flashing lights, and flagging him down. “How did you get out of that”, I asked? “Well,” he said,  starting to giggle,“ I think I’ll have to be very careful for a while, and it took a bit of time and talking, but eventually I persuaded them I was helping prevent crime.”

If Llangattock was definitely Morgan’s home, with the chaplain’s house at Brecon his second home, he also had a third….the school chapel.

We were as one in wanting to make the hauntingly stark and beautiful school chapel not Morgan’s, not mine, but belonging to the school community, especially the boys and girls; to give them ownership of it. In short order boys and girls of all ages read the lessons, took the prayers and delivered some of the most memorable and moving addresses I have ever heard. The introduction of a voluntary Friday evening candle-lit communion soon proved very popular, while the singing continued to soar.

 It is hard for anyone not to fall in love with the school chapel, little changed since the 12th century . Morgan was not immune to its’ spell. Late at night I would find him, duster and polish in hand, attending to the pews or brass plaques. Choir- stall wrought iron candlesticks appeared, made by a man down the road, from the wrought iron rescued from the Winsor Castle fire. The organ loft curtains changed from a drabness to green and gold…”Why not?” says Morgan, “Henry VIII spared the old monastery here and green and gold were his hunting colours ; very appropriate for the school.”

And then there was the triptych. Morgan and I had long disliked more drab  curtain fabric behind the altar.  Morgan declared he would paint a triptych to replace it. If you have not seen Morgan’s triptych, go and look at it, please. Morgan painted three panels: The Crucifiction, the Last Supper, and The Resurrection. Left to Right in that order. Morgan used to worry regularly that he had painted the events in the wrong chronological sequence. I used to argue that having the last supper in the centre, every character at the table instantly recognizable because it was family member, a pupil (boys AND girls), or members of staff , (male and female) brought exceptional meaning of the imagery to the school . Most of it was painted late at night, sometimes through the night and is a remarkable legacy for the chapel he, and we, loved. Do go and see it.

Morgan being Morgan we had our amusing moments as well. During one of our weekly meetings, before Ascension Day, I mooted the idea that the school should, en masse, ascend Pen y Fan to hold our service on the summit. Morgan was instantly up for that and swung into operational mode. As the entire school, including the school band and chapel crucifer carrying the chapel cross, disembarked the buses at Storey Arms (we all ran back to school afterwards) two Park wardens were heard voicing their views on the stupidity of whoever the idiot was that had hatched this ridiculous idea bound to end in disaster. Morgan and I looked at each other. “Leave this to me,” declared Morgan, reverting for about the only time I ever saw, to Major General mode. He explained in no uncertain terms that he had personally organized this event, including CCF signal units to man emergency stations en route; plus medical teams, led by the sanatorium sister, herself a 2nd/Lt in the CCF, in charge of first aid and water points at strategic intervals. Consequently, it was extremely unlikely Park Warden services would be required. The opposition retreat was rapid, silent and distant.

And if that was not enough, there was another amusing anecdote to come. A few days before the event I met an Old Breconian, prominent in the RAF. He took an interest in school plans for the week ahead. I told him about the Ascension Day service On Pen y Fan. “What time does it start, “he enquired? “2.30” , I replied . He thought for a moment before saying, “Can’t promise, but hold on to your hats!”

2.29pm, service about to begin when we hear an enormous roar coming from nowhere. Suddenly, up from beneath the lip of Pen y Fan come two phantom jets , rivet-countingly close. Some people hit the deck, hymn sheets were distributed over the Brecon Beacons, some still being found in remote corners I am told. To the south the aircraft turned around above Merthyr Tydfil and came back, diving at us even closer, before, with a wing wiggle and a wave, vanishing out of sight down the valley. “ I did warn you something might happen, “I say rather weakly to Morgan.  “True” he said, “But it isn’t like the RAF to be that prompt !”

There were other ascents.  Morgan organised and led a school expedition to Everest Base Camp, broadening horizons for many. On their, return my abiding memory is of boys and girls marveling at Morgan’s almost deity status with his beloved ghurkas  and his ability to converse in ghurkali. Another legend made.

As I have said, Morgan taught Religious studies throughout the school. Great communicator that he was, there is no doubt he held pupil attention. I used to love seeing the emojis that sometimes replaced written interim  reports: the round face, two eyes , dot for a nose and then a mouth either upturned in a smile ie doing well; horizontal …making average progress; or, down-turned …meaning little effort being made and I’m on the case. I suspect his charges will reflect on having learned much more about life and how to live it, truth and integrity paramount, than the semantics of liturgy. They gave huge street cred to the man who unobtrusively championed the underdog and gave confidence to the insecure and, in their eyes, more important than anything, was always fair. Morgan knew his charges because he was omni-present at school events; on touchlines, at plays and concerts, at the 6th Form Centre bar on Saturday nights, visiting the boarding houses. Breconian boys and girls notice these things, value them and respect them.

 There was a similar relationship with the Senior Common Room, who trusted and repected Morgan in equal measure and, stating the obvious, there is no greater accolade in any situation than the trust and respect of one’s colleagues. Mind you, if there was ever any mischief, mayhem and hi-jinks happening in the Staff room, Morgan was not far away. I know he was adored by the younger staff who teased him mercilessly, but awarded him the greatest of compliments, a nick-name. To them he was ‘Mogsy’ and someone probably worth listening to. Morgan loved the irreverend  “Mogsy” and loved them too. Morgan’s successor as both chaplain and teacher, taking part in this service today, was at pains to tell me the never once did Morgan ever refuse any request for help or advice; indeed, went out of his way to be helpful and supportive.

At home I have a treasured photograph taken at school on Red Nose Day, when home clothes were permitted. I don’t know who hatched the plan, probably Morgan, but teachers Elizabeth and Lynne, Morgan and I decided we would wear school uniform. The ladies looked immaculate in their girls’ blazers and ties, while Morgan and I donned boys’ grey flannels and hairy, green tweed jackets from the second hand shop. Morgan, hands deep in pockets, tie loosely tied (horror , horror), shoulders hunched,  and grinning most naughtily, always makes me laugh as I imagine him behind the bike sheds at Haileybury

Eventually the time came when Morgan gave notice that retirement from the chaplaincy was imminent. This coincided with the time the governors agreed to establish a Christ college Foundation, a fund raising body to safeguard the long term financial security of the school, especially to enable pupils to come to the school who needed some financial help. I stressed the need for a foundation director who would provide rigour, structure and vision to bring the project to fruition, some one who loved the school, someone with warmth and determination.

I think you know what is coming! 

And so I apologise once more to Polly, who had already lent Morgan to us for a long time, but he was the man to do that job and needed little persuading. He really, really did believe deeply in the school ethos and what it gave its pupils.

Thus began Morgan’s second incarnation at Christ College, taking up the role when the Foundation bank account was a string of noughts .

In quick time a Foundation structure was set up, data bases, donation systems and legacy provisions; a telephone fund-raising campaign using current pupils to reach out to former pupils. The pace was frantic, but always measured and rational. There was even a Morgan-led duck race beneath the bridge next to the school. Morgan clad in my chest waders, employed my fishing net to rescue little yellow ducks racing by. Some of those ducks may still be in a backwater near Newport, but the majority made it to the Bristol Channel in record time, but who could have predicted the minor flood that day! We didn’t talk about that very much. We travelled to distant venues in Wales to speak to Old Breconians and parents, trying to be as persuasive as we could. I was left in thrall of Morgan’s eloquence and energy as the noughts slowly changed into numbers.

 My wife and I visited the school recently to watch our grandchildren playing for Brecon in a match. On the touchline we met mums and dads who were pupils in our time,  now watching their children play in the same match, able to be at Christ College  because of help from the Foundation.  Few things would have given Morgan more pleasure than that, because he had as deep a love for the school as the school has of him.

I have a sense of having rambled on, perhaps not unusual for geriatric headmasters.

Part of the reason is that I have had to wrestle seriously with how to conclude this address. In the end I went back to that first encounter with Morgan….the immediate sense of warmth, a safe pair of hands and the bar set high.

Distilled further I came to two things, Morgan’s understanding of human frailty and his loyalty. He recognized the wide gamut of human frailty and loved it all as long as it manifested itself in honesty and determination to make the most of whatever gifts one might have. Make mistakes? Who has not? Learn from them. If in doubt, be kind. Fire cheap shots at your peril.

And then loyalty. He inspired this in others and, of course, if one is given loyalty the onus to give it back with interest is overwhelming. He was not ever a man I wanted to let down.

These two things led me to a bench on a high hill in West Wales, overlooking Fishguard and the Irish Sea . I came upon the bench by accident and saw it was placed there in memory of a local man. Below the man’s name it said…..

            “If you knew him and he was your friend,

                      then you were truly blessed.”

………….and I think that will do.

D Phil Jones (HM, 96-07)

Major General the Reverend Morgan Llewellyn, who has died aged 87, left a distinguished career in the military to become an Anglican clergyman.

Although his family had been builders of churches, Llewellyn came to faith late in life. He was in his mid-50s and a senior staff officer working in Whitehall when, on his lunch break in St James’s Park one day in 1991, he realised that he was being called to ordained ministry.

The sudden news surprised his colleagues, but Llewelyn’s course was set. With scrupulous efficiency, within two months he had spoken to his local bishop, retired from the Army, and entered Salisbury & Wells Theological College. He was made deacon in 1993 and proceeded to the priesthood a year later; he served part of his curacy as a minor canon of Brecon Cathedral, not far from his home at Llangattock.

His work at Brecon brought him into contact with Christ College, Henry VIII’s great foundation on the banks of the Usk; an invitation to preach at Matins came in 1995. Two days before the service, however, the school was badly shaken by the sudden death of its popular chaplain. Llewellyn stepped up: preaching to a packed and grieving congregation, he led the whole service with tact and reassurance.

Soon afterwards the headmaster invited Llewellyn to become chaplain himself; it was the beginning of an association with Christ College which lasted for the rest of his life. His medal-bedecked appearances on Remembrance Sunday were much anticipated, but he made a point of not treading on the toes of the lieutenant colonel who commanded the school CCF.

Instead, quietly and humanely, Llewellyn brought his military experience to bear in his teaching and his pastoral work among pupils and staff alike. He radiated calm strength with clear moral purpose, and – from behind the wheel of his vintage Bugatti – considerable style.

Pupils who needed pulling up were dealt with gently but firmly; at a time when rugby was king and kindness could be in short supply, he reassured many that their own success lay beyond the gates, where quality of character would soon count for more than whether or not they had been in the 1st XV.

When a recent old boy was killed in a road accident, Llewellyn reminded the young mourners, channelling Colin Murray Parkes, that “grief is the price we pay for love” – they accepted it because they trusted him. He could be disarmingly open; visibly moved, he once asked for the whole school to pray for a friend of his, explaining that he had been his best man and had entered the final stage of terminal illness.

A streak of mischief regularly emerged. During confirmation classes he would have all the candidates save one link arms in a circle, and then tell the last to get inside. It never worked, after which he would bark: “Nobody said that you weren’t to let him in!” When one of the less athletic boys protested about having to haul his tuba all the way up Pen-y-Fan for the annual Ascension Day service, Llewellyn simply took it from him and carried it himself.

One winter morning, in the middle of a blizzard and with snow thick on the ground, a snowball fight broke out in the quad after breakfast. Shadows fled in all directions as the master on duty furiously restored order; he made a beeline for a slightly slower figure who had given as good as he got, using an attaché case as a shield. Dusting himself down, Llewellyn wished him a good morning and marched off to chapel.

Richard Morgan Llewellyn – he was always known as Morgan – was born on August 22 1937 to Griffith Llewellyn and his wife Bridget, née Karslake. He grew up in Monmouthshire but was sent to school at Haileybury, which had merged with the Imperial Service College in 1942. When he left in 1956 he spent his National Service as a second lieutenant in the Royal Welch Fusiliers, seeing service in Malaya and Cyprus. He moved to the regular list in 1958.

In 1964 Llewellyn married Elizabeth Sobey – Polly – with whom he had three sons and two daughters. In the same year he was promoted to captain; he became a major in 1969, and was sent to the then-Army Staff College at Camberley in 1970.

A year later he became military assistant to Sir Michael Carver, the Chief of the General Staff, and served as brigade major (chief of staff) of the 39th Infantry Brigade in Belfast between 1974 and 1976; after which on promotion to lieutenant colonel he assumed command of the 1st Battalion, Royal Welch Fusiliers.

During the fire brigade strike of 1977 Llewellyn’s battalion were drafted into firefighting duties; he was outspoken about the fact that they were being paid less than the strikers. The Labour administration remained ummoved, but when the Conservatives swept to power in 1979 under Margaret Thatcher, service pay was dramatically increased, with a concomitant impact on recruitment and retention.

Thereafter Llewellyn returned briefly to the serious challenges of Northern Ireland in the depth of the Troubles, before joining the leadership of the Royal College of Defence Studies in 1979. In 1981 he was promoted to brigadier; he spent the next three years in Hong Kong commanding the Gurkha Field Force.

Llewellyn developed a deep and reciprocated affinity for the Gurkhas, to whom he was “General Saheb”. He later served as Colonel of the Gurkha Transport Regiment (now the Queen’s Own Gurkha Logistic Regiment), and made a point of keeping his Nepalese up so that he could chat to any Gurkha he might encounter later – they are stationed in Brecon.

Years afterwards, when he led an expedition of pupils from Christ College to Annapurna Base Camp (he had previously chaired the Army Mountaineering Association), Llewellyn made a point of seeking out any of his former soldiers in every village on the way. It seemed to his charges that he was welcomed as a something of a demigod.

From Hong Kong Llewellyn returned to the Ministry of Defence, where he was Director of Army Staff Duties from 1985 to 1987, after which he succeeded Sir Peter de la Billière as General Officer Commanding, Wales. From 1990 to 1991, during the First Gulf War, he was chief of staff at the United Kingdom Land Forces headquarters in London.

Many of Llewellyn’s military associations continued after his ordination; he was Colonel of the Royal Welch Fusiliers from 1990 to 1997 and in 2005 openly opposed the Minister of Defence’s plan to do away with the Welsh regiments’ historic names. He chaired the Gurkha Welfare Trust in Wales and the local branch of the Army Benevolent Fund, and a Welsh vice-patron of the War Memorials Trust. He was also a vice-president of the Soldiers’ and Airmen’s Scripture Readers Association, and an honorary chaplain to the University of Wales Officers’ Training Corps.

Appointed MBE in 1976, Llewellyn was advanced to OBE three years later; a CB followed in 1992. He was an Officer of the Order of St John, and a Deputy Lieutenant of Powys.

A lover of poetry, Llewellyn also served as chairman of the Armed Forces Art Association; he was an accomplished landscape painter who later branched out into portraiture. He undertook a number of commissions, but his largest work was for the chapel at Christ College: a reredos of the Last Supper with the apostles based on members of the school community. He included himself, facing away from the viewer, his gaze fixed on Jesus.

A daughter predeceased him in childhood; he is survived by his wife and their other children.

Major General (Rtd) Brian Plummer.