By J. W. Robertson - a view from 1962

When Mass first came to Bournemouth just 100 years ago the town's Catholic population was confined within the tall, upright figure of Sgt. Maurice O'Connell - a recent immigrant.

He had fought in the Crimea and was now a staff drill sergeant, seconded two years before when the Volunteer movement began to put the 4th Hants Volunteers through their paces.

The reason for the Mass lay in the decision of Mrs. Washington Hibbert, of Dover Street, London, to winter there. She stayed at the Belle Vue Hotel (now swallowed up by the Pavilion) and opened a private oratory in its assembly rooms. That in those days was an achievement of quality.

The priest who offered the Mass is believed to have been a young Jesuit, Fr. Thomas Mochler, then serving at Lymington, 15 miles away, who died a few weeks later from T.B. The news of that first Mass quickly travelled the countryside, bringing forth a handful of Catholics.

By the time Mrs. Hibbert left, she had set a tradition. For the next two winters, her example was followed by Lady Catherine Petre, who, conceivably for the purpose, also stayed in the Belle Vue.
By then the Catholic population had undergone a metamorphosis, but remained numerically at one.

Sergeant O'Connell was away on a lengthy, though temporary, mission and Mr. Thomas Long arrived to keep Catholicism's thin thread from snapping.
For five years Bournemouth continued to have Mass as the winter closed in.
In turn, Mr. Thomas Weld, of Ince, in Lancashire, and Lord Edward Fitzalan Howard of Glossop opened oratories in the houses they leased for the season.

When these gentry left the town, the Catholics - the years had brought an increase - were not forgotten.
They met in the Square, climbed into a horse-drawn bus and trundled away to St. Mary's, Poole, five miles off.
For this conveyance they had to thank a Mr. and Mrs. Harnett, visitors from Co. Kerry.
St. Mary's, 123 years old, is esteemed as the areas mother-church.

To-day it is hidden behind the factories that line one side of Poole Harbour, yet when built, there was reason why it should have an unimpeded view across the water.

The Llewellyn family living at Upton House on the far side of the harbour were its donors. They gave it as a thanks-offering for the recovery of their daughter who had been very close to death. But the girl remained an invalid and Mr Llewellyn wanted the church visible from her bedroom window. For years Poole's rectors rode on horseback into Branksome to offer Sunday Mass and then crossed the ferry to do the same in Swanage.

Bournemouth glitters to-day in sophisticated opulence. 'Pulchritudo et Salubritas', its crest proudly proclaims. Beauty and Health. A century ago it was not much more than a large village just beginning to be aware of its possibilities. Population was 1700.

Sixty years further back, it just didn't exist. The area was then wild when two travellers record having lost their way on the barren, uncultivated heath, "with not a human being to direct us." The only house shown on the maps of that time was no dwelling place, but the appanage of a duck decoy pond.