Our Churches and Chapels - Atticus
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The first incumbent of Christ Church was the Rev. T. Clark--a
kindly-exact, sincere, quiet-moving gentleman, who did much good in
his district, visited poor people regularly, wasn't afraid of going
down on his knees in their houses, gave away much of that which
parsons and other sinners generally like to keep--money, and was
greatly respected. We shall always remember him--remember him for
his quaint, virtuous preciseness, his humble, kindly plodding ways,
his love of writing with quill pens and spelling words in the old-
fashioned style, his generosity and mild, maidenly fidgetiness, his
veneration for everything evangelical, his dislike of having e put
after his name, and his courteous, accomplished, affable manners.
For 27 years--having previously been curate at the Parish Church in
this town--Mr. Clark was incumbent of Christ Church.
He was succeeded by his son-in-law, the Rev. Raywood Firth, who has
worked through Longfellow's excelsior gamut rapidly and
successfully. The father of Mr. Firth was a Wesleyan Methedist
minister, and, singular to say, was at one time--in some Yorkshire
circuit we believe--the superintendent of a gentlemen who is now,
and has been for some years, the incumbent of a Preston church. A
few years ago Mr. Firth visited Preston as secretary of a society in
connection with the Church of England; then got married to the
daughter of the Rev. T. Clark; subsequently became curate of that
gentlemen's church; and in 1864 was made its incumbent. Well done!
The ascent is good. We like the transition. Mr. Firth is a minute,
russet-featured gentleman; is precise in dress, neat in taste; gets
over the ground quietly and quickly; has a full, clear, dark eye;
has a youthful clerical countenance; has given way a little to
facial sadness; is sharp and serious; has a healthy biliary duct,
and has carried dark hair on his head ever since we knew him; is
clear-sighted, shy unless spoken to, and cautious; is free and
generous in expression if trotted out a little; is no bigot;
dislikes fierce judgments and creed-reviling; likes visiting folk
who are well off; wouldn't object to tea, crumpet, and conversation
with the better end of his flock any day; visits fairly in his
district, and says many a good word to folk in poverty, but would
look at a floor before going down upon it like his predecessor;
thinks that flags and boards should be either very clean or carpeted
before good trousers touch them; minds his own business; is
moderately benevolent, but doesn't phlebotomise himself too
painfully; never sets his district on fire with either phrensied
lectures or polemical tomahawking; takes things easily and
respectably; believes in his own views rather strongly at times;
loves putting the sacred kibosh upon things occasionally; is well
educated, can think out his own divinity; need never buy sermons;
has a clear, quiet-working, fairly-developed brain; is inclined to
thoughtfulness and taciturnity; might advantageously mix up with the
poor of his district a little more; needn't care over much for the
nods of rich folk, or the green tea and toast of antique Spinsters;
might be a little heartier, and less reserved; is a sincere man;
believes in what he teaches; and is thoroughly evangelical; is more
enlightened than three-fourths of our Preston Church of England
parsons, and doesn't brag over his ability. His salary is about 400
pounds a year, and that is a sum which the generality of people
would not object to. He is a good reader, is clear and energetic,
but shakes his head a little too much. In the pulpit he never gets
either fast asleep or hysterical. He can preach good original
sermons--carefully worked out, well-balanced, neatly arranged; and
he can give birth to some which are rather dull and mediocre. His
action is easy, yet earnest--his style quiet yet dignified; his
matter often scholarly, and never stolen. He is not a, "gatherer and
disposer of other men's stuff," like some clerical greengrocers:
what he says is his own, and he sticks to it.
There are two full services, morning and evening, and prayers in an
afternoon, on Sundays, at the church; and on a Tuesday evening there
is another service,--attended only slenderly, and patronised
principally, we are afraid, by elderly females, whose sands have run
down, and who couldn't do much harm now if they were very solicitous
on the subject. The attendance on Sundays is pretty large--
particularly in a morning. The adult congregation used to be very
select and high in the instep--was a kind of second edition of St.
George's, in three volumes. It is still numerous, but not so choice;
still proud but not so well bred; still stiff, serene, lofty-minded,
and elanish, but not so wealthy as is formerly was. The superior
members of the congregation, as a rule, gravitate downwards, have
seats on the ground floor,--it is vulgar to sit in the galleries.
They are all excellently attired; the "latest thing" may be seen in
hair, and bonnets, and dresses; the best of coats and the cleanest
of waistcoats are also observable. A cold tone of gentle-blooded,
high-middle-class respectability prevails. Much special adhesiveness
exists amongst them. Small charmed circles, little isolated
coteries, fond of exclusive devotional dealing, and "keeping
themselves to themselves," are rather numerous. Many good and some
very inquisitive and gossipy people attend--individuals who know all
your concerns, can tell how many glasses you had last week and where
you had them at, and like to make quiet hints on the subject to
others. The congregation is substantial in look, and possesses many
excellent qualities; but there is a great amount of what Dr. Johnson
would call "immiscibility" in it. Nearly every part of it has a very
strong notion that it is better than any other part. As in the
grocer's shop pictured by one of our best wits, so is it here--the
tenpenny nail looks upon the tin tack and calmly snubs it; the long
sixes eye the farthing dips and say they are poor lights; the bigger
articles seem cross and potent in the face of the smaller; the
little look big in the face of the less; and the infinitessimal clap
their wings when they make a comparison with nothing. The
congregation at Christ Church won't mix itself up; is fond of
"distance"; says, in a genteely pious tone, "keep off"; can't be
approached beyond a certain point; isn't sociable; won't stand any
hand-shaking except is its own peculiar circles. We know a person
who has gone for above 20 years to one of our Methodist chapels, and
yet nobody has ever said, on either entering or leaving the place,
"How are you?" The very same thing would have happened if that same
person had gone to Christ Church, unless there had been some
connection with a special circle. In all our churches and chapels
there is sadly too much of this rigid isolation, this frigid "Don't
know you" business. Clanishness and cleanliness occupy front ranks
at Christ Church, and if the Scotch tartans were worn in it, the
theory of distinction would be consummated. We would advise Mr.
Firth to write northward--beyond the Firth of Forth (oh!)--for
samples of plaids. The congregation on the whole is pretty liberal;
can subscribe fair sums of money; but the collections are not now
what they once were; the main reason being that there is not the
same wealth in the place as there used to be.
The music at Christ Church was, until lately, very good; it now
seems to be degenerating a little. There is a splendid organ in the
building. It cost about 1,000 pounds, and, with the exception of
that at St. George's, is about the best in the town. The late Mr. J.
Horrocks, jun., contributed handsomely towards the organ; played it
gratuitously; gave liberally towards the choir expenses; and Christ
Church is under a lasting debt of gratitude to him for his excellent
services. The organ is blown by two small engines, driven by water;
so that its music literally resolves itself into a question of wind
and water. The tones of the instrument are good, and they are very
fairly brought out by the present organist. The services are well
got through, and whilst Puritanism is on the one hand avoided in
them, Ritualism is on the other distinctly discarded. A medium
course, which is the best, is observed in the church, and so long as
Mr. Firth remains at the place there will be nothing bedizened or
foolish in its ceremonies. A small memorial place of worship, which
will operate as a "chapel of ease" for Christ Church, has been built
in Bird-street. Belonging to Christ Church there are some good day
and Sunday schools. They are numerously attended, and well
supervised. Adults have a room to themselves on a Sunday, and they
go through the processes of instruction patiently, benignly, and
without thrashing. At one time there was a school connected with the
church in Wellfield-road; but when St. Mark's was erected the
building and the scholars were transferred to its care. Viewing
everything right round, it may be said that Christ Church is a good
substantial building, but is rather too plain and weighs too much
for its size; that its minister is a mildly-toned, well-educated,
devout gentleman, with no cant in him, with a tender bias to the
side of gentility, and born to be luckier than three-fourths of the
sons of Wesleyan parsons; that its congregation is influential,
rose-coloured, good-looking, numerous, thinks that everybody is not
composed exactly of the same materials, believes that familiarity is
a flower which must be cautiously cultivated; that its religious and
educational operations are extensive; and that if all who are
influenced by them would only carry out what they are taught--none
of us do this over well--they would be models from which plaster
casts might be taken either for artistic purposes or the edification
of heathens generally.
WESLEY AND MOOR PARK METHODIST CHAPELS.
These two places of worship must constitute one dose. They are in
the same circuit, are looked after by the same ministers, and if we
gave a separate description of each we should only be guilty of that
unpleasant "iteration" which Shakspere names so forcibly in one of
his plays. Wesley Chapel is the older of the two, and, therefore,
must be first mentioned. It is situated in North-road, at the corner
of Upper Walker-street, and we dare say that those who christened it
thought they were doing a very hand-some thing--charming the
building with a name, and graciously currying favour with the Wesley
family. People have a particular liking for whoever or whatever may
be called after them, and good old John may sometimes look down
approvingly upon the place and tell Charles that he likes it. The
chapel, which was built in 1838, enjoys the usual society of all
pious buildings: it has two public houses and a beershop within
thirty yards of its entrance, and they often seem to be doing a
brisker business than it can drive, except during portions of the
Sunday when they are shut up, and, consequently, have not a fair
chance of competing with it. The chapel is square in form, has more
brick than stone in its composition, and has a pretty respectable
front, approached by steps, and duly guarded by iron railings.
Neither inside nor outside the building is there anything
architecturally fine. A decent mediocrity generally pervades it. The
entrances are narrow, and there is often a good deal of pushing and
patient squeezing at the neck of them. But nobody is ever hurt, and
not much bad temper is manifested when even the collateral pew doors
mix themselves up with the crowd, and prevent people from getting in
or out too suddenly. The chapel, although simple in style, is clean,
lofty, and light. A gallery of the horse shoe pattern runs round the
greater portion of it. Thin iron pillars support the gallery and the
"chancel" end, which is arched and recessed for orchestral
accomodation, is flanked by fluted imitation columns.
There is accomodation in the place for between 800 and 900 persons;
but it is not often that all the seats are filled. The average
attendance will be about 800; and nearly every one making up that
number belongs to the working-class section of life. Amongst the
body are many genial good-hearted folk-people who believe is doing
right without telling everybody about it, in obliging you without
pulling a face over it; and there are also individuals in the rank
and file of worshippers who are very Pecksniffian and dismal,
cranky, windy, authoritative, who would look sour if eating sugar,
would call a "church meeting" if you wore a lively suit of clothes,
and would tell you that they were entitled to more grace than
anybody else, and had got more. The better washed and more
respectably dressed portion of the congregation sit at the back of
the central range of seats on the ground floor, also along portions
of the sides, and in front of the gallery. Towards the front of the
central seats there is a confraternity of humble earnest-looking
beings, including several aged persons, who are true types in form,
manner, and dress, of unsophisticated Methodists. Here, as
elsewhere, there are very few people in the chapel ten minutes
"before the train starts." Those present at that time are mainly
middle-aged, unpretentious, and very seriously inclined; others of a
higher type follow; and then comes the rush, which lasts for about
five minutes. Worship is conducted in the chapel with considerable
quietness. You may hear the long-drawn gelatinous sigh, the subdued,
quiet, unctuous "amen," and if the thing gets hot a few lively half-
innate exclamations are thrown into the proceedings. But there is
nothing in any of them of a turbulent or riotous character. The
parsons can draw out none of the worshippers into a very
ungovernable frame of mind; and we believe none of the people have
for some time been very violent in either their verbal expressions
or physical contortions. They are beginning to take things quietly,
and to work inwardly during periods of bliss. There are about 400
"members" in connection with Wesley Chapel, and we hope they are
nearly half as good as such like people usually profess to be. The
rule in life is for people to be about one-third as virtuous as they
say they are; and if they can be got a trifle beyond that point by
any legitimate process, it is something to be thankful for.
There is a very fair organ at Wesley Chapel, and the person who
plays it does the requisite manipulative business with good ordinary
skill. The choir is a sort of family compact; the members of one
household preponderate in it; but its arrangements are well worked,
and the music, taking everything into account, is pretty fair. It is
far from being classical; but it will do. The singing in the
galleries and below is full, if not very sweet; is spirited and
generously expressed if not so melodious. Quite the old style of
vocalising prevails in some quarters of the place, and it is mainly
patronised by old people; they swing backwards and forwards gently
and they sing, get into all kinds of keys, experimentally, put their
hands on the pew sides or fronts, beating time with the music as the
business proceeds, and like singing hymn ends over again. There is a
school beneath the chapel. On week-days its average attendance is
about 115; and on Sundays 450.
We must now for a moment pass on to Moor Park Chapel. This is a new,
and somewhat genteel-looking building--has a rather "taking"
outside, and is inclined to be smart within. It was opened on the
26th of June, 1862. A style of architecture closely resembling that
of Lancaster-road Congregational Chapel has been followed in its
construction. There is much circular work in its ornamental details;
its general arrangements are neat, and well finished; nothing cold
or sulkily Puritanical presents itself; a degree of even taste and
polish has been observed in its make. This is a more "respectable"
chapel than its companion at the top of Walker-street; its patrons
are supposed to be a somewhat richer class. It will accommodate
about 900 people; but, as at Wesley Chapel, so here--there are more
sittings than sitters. "It has been known to hold 1,300, on an
excursion," said a quiet-minded young man to us when we were at the
chapel; but we didn't understand the young man, couldn't fathom his
"excursion" sentiments, and afterwards threw ourselves into the arms
of one of the ministers for numeric protection. There is a good
gallery in the building, and the pillars which support it prop up a
sort of arched canopy, like an oblong umbrella, which is too low,
too near the head, and must consequently both confine the air, and
develope sweating when the place is filled. There is a neat pulpit
in the chapel, and it is ornamented with what seem to be panels of
opaque glass. We were rather distressed on first seeing them, being
apprehensive that one of the preachers might, some very fine Sunday,
when in a mood more rapturous than usual, send the points of his
shoes right through them; but our mind was eased when an explanation
was made to the effect: that the "glass" was ornamental zinc, and
that the feet of the preachers couldn't get near it. Behind the
pulpit there is a circular niche for the members of the choir, who,
aided and abetted in musical matters by a pretty good harmonium,
acquit themselves respectably.
The congregation, as hinted, is more "fashionable" than that at
Wesley Chapel: it is more select, has more pride in it, sighs more
gently, moans less audibly, turns up its eyes more delicately,
hardly ever gets into a "religious spree," and is inclined to think
that piety should be genteel as well as vital. The members here
number 280. Immediately adjoining the chapel there is good school
accomodation; and the attendance appears to be very creditable. On
week days the average is two hundred; and on Sundays it reaches
about four hundred. At both Wesley and Moor Park Chapels there are
week-night services and class meetings. The former are rather dull
and badly attended; and a special effort on the part of both those
who talk and those who listen is required to get up the proceedings
into a state of pleasant activity; the latter are fairly managed,
and are somewhat like "experiences meetings;" talking, singing, and
praying are done at them; there is a constant fluctuation, whilst
they are going on, between bliss and contrition; and you are
sometimes puzzled to find out--taking the sounds made as a
criterion--whether the attendants are preparing to fight, or fling
themselves into a fit of crying, or hug and pet each other.
The circuit embraces the two chapels named, also Kirkham,
Freckleton, Bamber Bridge, Longridge, Moon's Mill, Wrea Green, and
Ashton; it has now about 795 members; and all of them, with the
exception of 115, as figures previously given show, are in Preston.
The circuit, so far as members go, is slightly decreasing in power;
but it may recruit its forces by and bye; There has been a species
of duality in it during the past three years; its energies have been
a little divided; faction has reigned in it; there have been too
many Raynerites and Adamites and sadly too few Christians in it;
pious snarling and godly backbiting have been too industriously
exercised; and one consequence has been weakened power and a
declension of progress. But the brethren are getting more cheerful,
much old spleen has subsided, and, we hope, they will all kiss and
get kind again soon.
When this sketch was first printed the Rev. T. A. Rayner was the
superintendent minister; the Rev. J. Adams being second in command;
and they worked the different sections alternately. Mr. Rayner is an
elderly gentleman, with a strong osseous frame, which is well
covered with muscle and adipose matter; he has been about 34 years
in the ministry, and should, therefore, be either very smart or very
dull by this time; he has a portly, grave, reverential look; carries
with him both spectacles and an eye-glass; is slow and coldly-keen
in his mental processes; thinks that he can speak with authority;
and that all minor dogs must cease barking when he mounts the
oracular tripod; he is sincere; works well, for his years, and in
his own way does his best; he is a man of much experience, and has
fair intellectual powers; but his temperament is very icy and
flatulent; his humours heavy and watery, and a phlegmagog purge
would do him good. He is a rigid methodical man; believes in
original rules and ancient prerogatives; is a Wesleyan of the
antique type, but is devoid of force and enthusiasm; he never sets
you on fire with declamation, nor melts you with pathos; he had
rather freeze than burn sinners; he thinks the harrier principle of
catching a hare is the surest, and that travelling on a theological
canal is the safest plan in the long run. He is more cut out for a
country rectory, where the main duties are nodding at the squire and
stunning the bucolic mind with platitudes, than for a large circuit
of active Methodists; he would be more at home at a rural deanery,
surrounded by rookeries and placid fish ponds, than in a town
mission environed by smoke and made up of screaming children and
thin-skinned Christians. Mr. Rayner has many good properties; but
short sermon preaching is not one of them. Some of the descendants
of that man who, according to "Drunken Barnaby," slaughtered his cat
on a Monday, because it killed a mouse on the Sunday, were in the
bait of preaching for three hours at one stretch. Mr. Rayner never
yet preached that length of time, and we hope he never will do; but
he can, like the east wind, blow a long while in one direction. One
Sunday evening; when we heard him, be preached just one hour, and at
the conclusion intimated that he had been requested to give a short
sermon, but had drifted into a rather prolix one. We should like to
know what length he would have run out his rhetoric if be had been
requested to give a long discourse. By the powers! it would have
"tickled the catastrophe" of each listener finely--doctors would
have had to be called in, a vast amount of physic would have been
required, and it would never have got paid for in these hard times
so that bad debts would have been added to the general calamity. We
could never see any good in long sermons and nobody else ever could
except those giving them. Neither could we ever see much fun in a
parson saying--"And now lastly" more than once. In the 60 minutes
discourse to which we have alluded, the preacher got into the lastly
part of the business five times. If that other conclusive phrase--
"And now, finally brethren"--had been taken advantage of, and
similarly worked, we might never have got home till morning.
Summarising Mr. Rayner, it may be stated that he is calm,
phlegmatic, earnest but too prolix, likes to wield the rod of
authority and occupy one of the uppermost seats in the synagogue, is
an industrious minister but adheres to a programme antique and
chilling, is a real Wesleyan in his conceptions, but behind the
times in spirit and mental brilliance, is in a word good, grim,
imperial, cold as ice, steady, and soundly orthodox.
Mr. Adams, the junior minister, is quite of a different mould; he is
sprightly, gamey, wide awake, full of courage, with a smack of
Yankee audacity in his manner, and a fair share of conceit in his
general make up. There is much determination in him, much of the
lively bantam element about him. He has a sharp round face which has
not been spoiled by sanctimoniousness. He is sanguine, combative, go
ahead, and would like a good fight if he got fairly into one. He
cares little for forms and ceremonies; is a good mower; wears a
billycock which has passed through much tribulation --we believe it
was once the subject of a church meeting; can play cricket pretty
well, and enjoys the game; is frank, candid, and speaks straight
out; can say a good thing and knows when he has said it; has an
above-board, clear, decisive style; is not a great scholar, and
would be puzzled, like the generality of parsons, if asked how many
teeth he had in his head, or who was the grandfather of his mother's
first uncle; knows little of Latin and less of Greek, but
understands human nature, and that, says the Clockmaker, beats
scholarship; has been in America, which accounts for the nasal ring
in his talk; is active, sanguine, free, and easy, and would enjoy
either a ridotto or a fast; can utter lively, merry things in his
sermons, and does not object sometimes to recognise the wisdom of
Shakspere. Mr. Adams is a good platform speaker, and he can give
straight shots as a preacher. Sometimes his discourses are only
common-place, wordy, and featherless; but in the general run he is
much above the average of sermonisers. He has good action, can put
out considerable canvas when very warm, smacks the pulpit sides with
his hands when, particularly earnest, and occasionally makes a
direct aim at the Bible before him, and hits it. We rather like his
style; it is free, but not coarse; spirited, but not crazy;
determined, but not bigoted; and it is in no way spice with either
cant or hallowed humbug. Mr. Adams was five years in America, and he
is now completing the tenth year of his career as a regular Wesleyan
minister. He has a large veneration for his own powers and thinks
there are few sons of Adam like him in the Methodist world; still he
is a hard-working, shrewd, clear-headed little man, a good preacher,
with a deal of every day fun and sunshine in his heart, and
calculated to take a considerably higher post than that which he now
occupies.