Our Churches and Chapels - Atticus
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There are two services every Sunday in the Unitarian chapel--morning
and evening--and both are very good in one sense because both are
very short. There have been many ministers at the chapel since its
transformation into a Unitarian place of worship; but we need not
unearth musty records and name them all. Within modern memory there
have been just a trinity of ministers at the chapel--the Rev. Joseph
Ashton, an exceedingly quiet, unassuming, well learned man, who
would have taken a higher stand in the town than he did if he had
made more fuss about himself; the Rev. W. Croke Squier, who made too
much fuss, who had too big a passion for Easter-due martyrdoms and
the like, for Corn Exchange speeches, patriotic agony points, and
virtuous fighting, but who was nevertheless a sharp-headed, quick-
sighted, energetic little gentleman; and the Rev. R. J. Orr--the
present minister--who came to Preston about a year and a half since.
Mr. Orr is an Irishman, young in years, tall, cold, timid, quiet,
yet excellently educated. He is critical, seems slightly cynical,
and moves along as if he either knew nobody or didn't want to look
at anybody. There is somewhat of the student, and somewhat of the
college professor in his appearance. But he is a very sincere man;
has neither show nor fussiness in him; and practices his duties with
a strict, quiet regularity. He may have moods of mirth and high
moments of sparkling glee, but he looks as if he had never only
laughed right out about once in his life, and had repented of it
directly afterwards. If he had more dash and less shyness in him,
less learned coolness and much more humour in his composition, he
would reap a better harvest in both pulpit and general life. Mr. Orr
is no roaring will o' the wisp minister; what he says he means; and
what he means he reads. His prayers and sermons are all read. He is
not eloquent, but his language is scholarly, and if he had a freer
and more genial expression he would be better appreciated. If he
were livelier and smiled more he would be fatter and happier. His
style is his own; is too Orrible, needs a little more sunshine and
blithesomeness. He never allows himself to be led away by passion;
sticks well to his text; invariably keeps his temper. He wears
neither surplice nor black gown in the pulpit, and does quite as
well without as with them. For his services he receives about 120
pounds a year and if the times mend he will probably get more. In
the chapel there is a harmonium, which is played as well as the
generality of such instruments are. The singing is only moderate,
and if it were not for the good strong female voice, apparently
owned by somebody in the gallery, it would be nearly inaudible--
would have to be either gently whispered or "thought out." The
services in the main are simple, free from all boisterous
balderdash, and if not of such a character as would suit everybody,
are evidently well liked by those participating in them.
ALL SAINTS' CHURCH.
The calendar of the canonised has come in handy for the christening
of churches. Without it, we might have indulged in a poor and
prosaic nomenclature; with it, the dullest, as well as the finest,
architecture can get into the company of the beatified. Barring a
few places, all our churches are associated with some particular
saint; every edifice has cultivated the acquaintance of at least
one; but that we have now to notice has made a direct move into the
general constellation, and is dedicated to the aggregate body. We
believe that in church-naming, as in common life, "ALL is for the
best," and we commend, rather than censure, the judgment which
recognised the full complement of saints when All Saints' was
consecrated. A man maybe wrong in fixing upon one name, or upon
fifty, or fifty hundred, but if he agglomerates the entire mass,
condenses every name into one, and gives something respectable that
particular name, he won't be far off the equinoctial of exactness.
In this sense, the christeners of All Saints' were wise; they went
in for the posse comitatus of saints--backed the favourites as well
as "the field"--and their scheme, so far as naming goes, must win.
There is, however, not much in a name, and less in a reverie of
speculative comment, so we will descend to a lower, yet, perhaps,
more healthy, atmosphere.
In 1841, the Rev. W. Walling, son of a yeoman living is Silverdale--
one of the prettiest places we know of in the North of England--came
to Preston, as minister of St. James's Church. He stayed at the
place for about a year, then went to Carlton, in Nottinghamshire,
and afterwards to Whitby. Mr. Walling was a man of quiet
disposition; during his stay in Preston he was exceedingly well
liked; and when he left the town, a vacuum seemed to have been
created. He was a missed man; his value was not found out until he
had gone; and it was determined--mainly amongst a pious,
enthusiastic section of working people--to get him back again if
possible. And they went about the business like sensible people--
decided not to root out his predecessor at St. James's, nor to
exterminate any of the sundry clerical beings in other parts of the
town, but to build him a new church. They were only poor men; but
they persevered; and in a short time their movement took a distinct
shape, and the building, whose erection they had in view, was
prospectively called "The Poor Man's Church." In time they raised
about 200 pounds; but a sum like that goes only a little way in
church building--sometimes doesn't cover those very refreshing
things which contractors call "extras;" a number of wealthier men,
who appreciated the earnestness of the original promoters, and saw
the necessity, of such a church as they contemplated, came to the
rescue, and what they and divers friends gave justified a start, on
a plot of land between Walker-street and Elizabeth-street. On the
21st of September, 1846, the foundation-stone of the church--All
Saints--was laid by the late Thomas German, Esq., who was mayor of
Preston at that time. The building, which cost about 2,600 pounds,
was not consecrated till December, 1856, but it was ministerially
occupied by the Rev. W. Walling on the 23rd September, 1848, and he
held his post, earning the respect and esteem of all in the
discharge of its duties, till October 10th, 1863, when death
suddenly ended his labours. When the church was consecrated there
was a debt of about 750 pounds upon it; but in a few years, by the
judicious and energetic action of the trustees, it was entirely
cleared off. The present trustees of the church are Dr. Hall,
Messrs. J. R. Ambler, F. Mitchell, and W. Fort. The successor of the
Rev. W. Walling was the Rev. G. Beardsell, who still occupies the
situation; but before saying anything to the point concerning him we
must describe the church and its concomitants.
All Saints' is a good substantial-looking church. It is built in the
Ionic style of Greek architecture; has a massive pillared front; is
railed round, has an easy and respectable entrance, and--getting
worse as it gets higher--is surmounted with a small bell turret and
a chimney. Other things may be put upon the roof after a while, for
space is abundant there. The church has a square, respectable,
capacious interior--is roomy, airy, light; doesn't seem thrown
together in a dim foggy labrynth like some places, and you feel as
if you could breathe freely on taking a seat in it. It is well-
galleried, and will accommodate altogether about 1,500 human beings.
The pews are good, and whilst it is impossible for them to hold more
people than can get into them, they are charged for as if one
additional person could take a seat in each after being full! This
is odd but quite true. In the case of pews which will just
accommodate five persons, six sittings are charged for; those
holding four are put down in the rent book for five; and this scale
of charges is kept up in respect to all the pews, whether big or
little. The rents go into the pocket of the incumbent. At the
southern end there is a small chancel, which was erected at the
expense of the late J. Bairstow, Esq. It is ornamented with several
stained glass windows, and has an inlaid wooden canopy, but there is
nothing startling nor remarkable about the work. Beneath the windows
there is painted in large, letters the word "Emmanuel;" but the
position of it is very inconvenient. People sitting above may see
the name fairly; but many below have a difficulty in grasping it,
and those sitting in the centre will never be able to get hold of
more letters than those which makeup the mild name of "Emma." Names-
-particularly great ones--should never be put up anywhere unless
they can be seen. On each side of the chancel arch then is a small
tablet; one being to the memory of the Rev. W. Walling, and the
other to that of the late W. Tuson, Esq., who was one of the
original wardens. The church is clean and in good condition; but the
windows would stand re-painting. There are about 400 free seats in
the building, and they are pretty well patronised. The general
attendance is tolerably large; between 700 and 800 people frequent
the church on the average; but the congregation seems to be of a
floating character, is constantly changing, and embraces few "old
stagers." Formerly, many who had been at the church from the first
might be seen at it; numerous persons recognised as "fixtures" were
there; but they have either gone to other churches or died off, and
there is now a strong ebb and flow of new material at the place.
The congregation is of a complex description; you may see in it the
"Grecian bend" and the coal scuttle hood, the buff waistcoat and the
dark moleskin coat; but in the main the worshippers are of a quiet
well-assorted character--partly working class, partly middle-class,
with a sprinkling of folk above and below both. The humble minded
and the ancient appear to have a liking for the left side range of
seats; the swellishly-young and the substantially-middle class take
up a central position; people of a fair habilimental stamp occupy
the bulk of the seats on the other side; whilst the select and the
specially virtuous approximate the pulpit--one or two in the
excelsior category get even beyond it, and like both the quietude
and the dignity of the position. The galleries are used by a
promiscuous company of worshippers, who keep good order and make no
undue noises. The tale-tellers and the gossips--for they exist here
as in the generality of sacred places--are distributed in various
directions. It would be advantageous if they were all put in one
separate part; for then their influence would not be so ramified,
and they might in the end get up a small Kilkenny affair and
mutually finish off one another. Late attendance does not seem to be
so fashionable at All Saints' as at some churches; still it exists;
things would look as if they were getting wrong if somebody didn't
come late and make everybody turn their heads. When we visited the
church, the great mass were present at the right time; but a few
dropped in after the stipulated period; one put in an appearance 30
minutes late; and another sauntered serenely into the region of the
ancient people just 65 minutes after the proceedings had commenced.
At a distance, the reading desk and the pulpit look oddly mixed up;
but a close inspection shows that they are but fairly associated,
stand closely together, the pulpit, which is the higher, being in
the rear. There is no decoration of any sort in the body of the
church; everything appears tranquil, serious, straightforward, and
respectable. The singing is of a very poor character,--is slow,
weak, and calculated at times to make you ill. Pope, in his Essay on
Criticism, says--
Some to church repair,
Not for the doctrine, but the music there.
Probably they do; but nobody goes to All Saints' for that purpose.
No genuine hearty interest seems to be taken in the singing by
anybody particularly. The choir move through their notes as if some
of them were either fastened up hopelessly in barrels, or in a state
of musical syncope; the organist works his hands and feet as well as
he can with a poor organ; the members of the congregation follow,
lowly and contentedly, doing their best against long odds and the
parson sits still, all in one grand piece, and looks on. The
importance and influence of good music should be recognised by every
church; and we trust in time there will be a decided improvement at
All Saints'. A church like it--a building of its size and with its
congregation--ought to have something superior and effective in the
matter of music.
We have already said that the Rev. George Beardsell is the minister
of All Saints'. He has been at the church, as its incumbent, about
five years. Originally Mr. Beardsell was a Methodist;--a Methodist
preacher, too, we believe; but in time he changed his notions; and
eventually flung himself, in a direct line, into the arms of "Mother
Church." Mr. Beardsell made his first appearance in Preston as
curate of Trinity Church. He worked hard in this capacity, stirred
up the district at times with that peculiar energy which poor
curates longing for good incumbencies, wherein they may settle down
into security and ease, can only manifest, and with many he was a
favourite. From Trinity Church he went to St. Saviour's, and here he
slackened none of his powers. Enthusiasm, combined with earnest
plodding, enabled him to improve the district considerably. He drew
many poor people around him; he repeatedly charmed the "unwashed"
with his strong rough-hewn orgasms; the place seemed to have been
specially reserved for some man having just the perseverance and
vigorous volubility which he possessed; he had ostensibly a
"mission" in the locality; the people of the district liked him, he
reciprocated the feeling, and more than once intimated that he would
make one or two spots, including the wild region of Lark-hill,
"Blossom as the rose." But the period of efflorescence has not yet
arrived; a "call" came in due season, and this carried the
ministerial florist to another "sphere of action." Mr. Beardsell was
translated to the incumbency of All Saints', and he still holds it.
When Mr. Walling was at this church the income was about 260 pounds
a year; taking everything into account, it is now worth upwards of
400 pounds.
Mr. Beardsell is not a beautiful, but a stout, well-made, strong-
looking man, close upon 40, with a growing tendency towards
adiposity. He has a healthy, bulky, English look; is not a man of
profound education, but, makes up by weight what he may lack in
depth; thinks it a good thing to carry a walking-stick, to keep his
coat well buttoned, and to arrange his hair in the high-front, full-
whig style; has a powerful, roughly eloquent voice; is rather
sensational in the construction of some of his sentences; bellows a
little at times; welters pathetically often; is somewhat monotonous
in tone; ululates too heavily; behaves harshly to the letter "r"--
sounds it with a violent vigour, and makes it fairly spin round his
tongue end occasionally; can sustain himself well as a speaker; is
never at a loss for words; has a forcible way of arranging his
subjects; is systematic in his style of treatment; and can throw
into his elucidation of questions well-coined and emphatic
expressions. He likes perorations--used to imitate Punshon a little.
He has a good analogical faculty; takes many of his illustrations
from nature, and works them out exceedingly well; is a capital
explainer of biblical difficulties; is peculiarly fond of the
travels of St. Paul; piles up the agony easily and effectively; many
times gets into a groove of high-beating, fierce-burning enthusiasm,
as if he were going to take a distinct leap out of his "pent-up
Utica," and revel in the "whole boundless continent" of thought and
sacred sensation; is a thorough believer in the "My brethren"
phrase--we recently heard him use it nineteen times in twenty
minutes, and regretted that he didn't make the numbers equal;
delights in decking out his discourses with couplets and snatches of
hymns; has a full-blown determined style of speaking; reads with his
gloves on, and preaches with them off, like one or two other parsons
we have seen; makes his sermons too long; is a good platform man,
and would make a fair travelling lecturer; has a great predilection
for open-air preaching, and has spells of it to the Orchard; might
with advantage work more in and less out of his own district;
wouldn't commit a sin if he studied the question of personal
visiting; shouldn't think that his scripture reader--a really good,
hard-working man--can perform miracles, and do nearly everything;
can talk genuine common sense if he likes, and make himself either
very agreeable or pugnacious; is an Orangeman, with a holy horror of
Popery; can give deliciously passionate lectures about the
Reformation; considers money a very important article, and is
inclined to believe that all people, particularly parsons, should
stick to it very firmly; will have his own way in church matters;
likes to fight with a warden; has had many a lively little brush
over sacrament money; might have got on better with many of the
officials if he had been more conciliatory; is a man of moderate
ability, of fair metal, of strong endurance, but would be more
relished if he were less dogmatic, were given less to wandering
preaching, and threw himself heart, soul, purse, and clothes into
his own district. Near the church, and occupying good relative
positions on each side of a beerhouse, called "The Rising Sun," are
All Saints' schools. One of them--that now occupied by the boys--
was, according to a tablet at the outside, erected several years ago
by our old friend Captain German "as an affectionate tribute to the
memory of Thomas German, Esq." About five years since, two class-
rooms were attached to it, at the expense of J. Bairstow, J.
Horrocks, R. Newsham, and T. Miller, Esqrs. The other school, set
apart for the girls, was erected after that built by Captain German.
Both of the schools are very good ones--are large, lofty, and
commodious. That used for the boys is, scholastically, in a superior
condition. The master is sharp, fully up to his duties; and,
according to a report by the government inspector, his school is one
of the best in the district. The average day attendance at the boys'
school is 150; whilst at the girls school the regular attendance may
be set down at 330. The schools are used on Sundays, and their
average attendance then is 800. Much might be written concerning
them; but we must close; we have said enough; and can only add that
if all are not saints who go to All Saints' they are about as good
as the rest of people.
UNITED METHODIST FREE CHURCH AND POLE-STREET BAPTIST CHAPEL.
We have two places of worship to struggle with "on the present
occasion," and shall take the freest yet most methodistical of them
first. The United Methodist Free Church--that is a rather long and
imposing name--is generally called "Orchard Chapel." The "poetry of
the thing" may suffer somewhat by this deviation; but the building
appears to smell as sweetly under the shorter as the longer name, so
that we shall not enter into any Criticism condemnatory of the
change. This chapel is the successor, in a direct line, of the first
building ever erected in the Orchard. Its ancestor was placed on
precisely the same spot, in 1831. Those who raised it seceded from
the Wesleyan community, in sympathy with the individuals who retired
from the "old body" at Leeds, in 1828, and who adopted the name of
"Protestant Methodists." For a short time the Preston branch of
these Methodists worshipped in that mystic nursery of germinating
"isms" called Vauxhall-road Chapel; and in the year named they
erected in the Orchard a building for their own spiritual
improvement. It was a plain chapel outside, and mortally ugly
within. Amongst the preaching confraternity in the connexion it used
to be known as "the ugliest Chapel in Great Britain and Ireland." In
1834 a further secession of upwards of 20,000 from the Wesleyans
took place, under the leadership of the late Dr. Warren, of
Manchester. These secessionists called themselves the "Wesleyan
Association," and with them the "Protestant Methodists," including
those meeting in the Orchard Chapel, Preston, amalgamated. They also
adopted the name of their new companions. In 1857 the "Wesleyan
Association" coalesced with another large body of persons, who
seceded from the original Wesleyans in 1849, under the leadership of
the Rev. James Everett and others, and the two conjoined sections
termed themselves the "United Methodist Free Church." None of the
separations recorded were occasioned by any theological difference
with the parent society, but through disagreement on matters of
"government."
The ministers of the United Methodist Free Church body move about
somewhat after the fashion of the Wesleyan preachers. They first go
to a place for twelve months, and if they stay longer it has to be
through "invitation" from one of the quarterly meetings. As a rule,
they stop three or four years at one church, and then move off to
some new circuit, where old sermons come in, at times, conveniently
for new hearers. The various churches are ruled by "leaders"--men of
a deaconly frame of mind, invested with power sufficient to enable
them to rule the roost in ministerial matters, to say who shall
preach and who shall not, and to work sundry other wonders in the
high atmosphere of church government. The "members" support their
churches, financially, in accordance with their means. There is no
fixed payment. Those who are better off, and not stingy, give
liberally; the less opulent contribute moderately; those who can't
give anything don't. After an existence of about 30 years, the old
chapel in the Orchard was pulled down, in order to make way for a
larger and a better looking building. During the work of
reconstruction Sunday services were held in the school at the rear,
which was built some time before, at a cost of 1,700 pounds. The new
chapel, which cost 2,600 pounds, was opened on the 22nd of May,
1862. It has a rather ornamental front--looks piquant and seriously
nobby. There is nothing of the "great" or the "grand" in any part of
it. The building is diminutive, cheerful, well-made, and inclined,
in its stone work, to be fantastical.
Internally, it is clean, ornate, and substantial. Its gallery has
stronger supports than can be found in any other Preston chapel. If
every person sitting in it weighed just a ton it would remain firm.
There are two front entrances to the building, and at each end red
curtains are fixed. On pushing one pair aside, the other Sunday, we
cogitated considerably as to what we should see inside. We always
associate mystery with curtains, "caudle lectures" with curtains,
shows, and wax-work, and big women, and dwarfs with curtains; but as
we slowly, yet determinedly, undid these United Methodist Free
Church curtains, and presented our "mould of form" before the full
and absolute interior, we beheld nothing special: there were only a
child, two devotional women, and a young man playing a slow and
death-like tune on a well-made harmonium, present. But the "plot
thickened," the place was soon moderately filled, and whilst in our
seat, before the service commenced, we calmly pondered over many
matters, including the difficulty we had in reaching the building.
Yes, and it was a difficulty. We took the most direct cut, as we
thought, to the place, from the southern side--passed along the
Market-place, into that narrowly-beautiful thoroughfare called New-
street, then through a yet newer road made by the pulling down of
old buildings in Lord-street, and reminding one by its sides of the
ruins of Petra, and afterwards merged into the Orchard. To neither
the right nor the left did we swerve, but moved on, the chapel being
directly is front of us; but in a few moments afterwards we found
ourselves surrounded by myriads of pots and a mighty cordon of
crates--it was the pot fair. Thinking that the Orchard was public
ground, and seeing the chapel so very near, we pursued the even
tenour of our way, but just as we were about sliding between two
crates, so as to pass on into the chapel, a strong man, top-coated,
muffled up, and with a small bludgeon in his hand, moved forward and
said "Can't go." "Why?" said we; "Folks isn't allowed in this here
place now," said he. "Well, but this is the town's property and we
pay rates," was our rejoinder, and his was "Don't matter a cuss, if
you were Lord Derby I should send you back." We accused him of
rudeness, and threatened to go to the police station, close by; but
the fellow was obstinate; his labours were concentred in the
virtuous guardianship of pots, he defied the police and "everybody;"
and feeling that amid all this mass of crockery we had, for once,
unfortunately, "gone to pot," we quietly walked round to the bottom
of the ground, for the crates and the pots swamped the whole _place,
came up to the chapel door, within four yards of the Lord-Derby-
defying individual, and quietly went into the building.