This is a church in charge of the Jesuits, and by them and it we are
reminded of what may fairly be termed the great leg question. The
order of Jesuits, as we lately remarked, was originated by a damaged
leg; and St. Walburge's church, Preston, owes its existence to the
cure of one. Excellent, O legs! Tradition hath it that once upon a
time--about 1160 years ago--a certain West Saxon King had a daughter
born unto him, whose name was Walburge; that she went into Germany
with two of her brothers, became abbess of a convent there, did
marvellous things, was a wonder in her way, couldn't be bitten by
dogs--they, used to snatch half a yard off and then run, that she
died on the 25th February, 778, that her relics were transferred, on
the 12th October following, to Eichstadt, at which place a convent
was built to her memory, that the said relics were put into a bronze
shrine, which was placed upon a table of marble, in the convent
chapel; that every year since then, between the 12th of October and
the 25th of February, the marble upon which the shrine is placed has
"perspired" a liquid which is collected below in a vase of silver;
and that this liquid, which is called "St. Walburge's oil," will
cure, by its application, all manner of physical ailments. This is
the end of our first lesson concerning St. Walburge and the
wonderful oil. The second lesson runneth thus:- About five and
twenty years ago there lived, as housemaid at St. Wilfrid's
presbytery, in this town, one Alice Holderness. She was a comely
woman and pious; but she fell one day on some steps leading to the
presbytery, hurt one of her legs--broke the knee cap of it, we
believe--and had to be carried straight to bed. Medical aid was
obtained; but the injured knee was obstinate, wouldn't be mended,
and when physic and hope alike had been abandoned, so far as the leg
of Alice was concerned, the Rev. Father Norris, who, in conjunction
with the Rev. Father Weston, was at that time stationed at St.
Wilfrid's, was struck with a somewhat bright thought as to the
potency of St. Walburge's oil. A little of that oil was procured,
and this is what a sister of the injured woman says, in a letter
which we have seen on the subject, viz.:--That Father Norris dipped
a pen into the oil and dropped a morsel of it upon her knee,
whereupon "the bones immediately snapped together and she was
perfectly cured, having no longer the slightest weakness in the
broken limb."
This is a strange tale, which people can either believe or
disbelieve at their own pleasure. All Protestants--ourselves
included--will necessarily be dubious; and if any polemical lecturer
should happen to see the story he will go wild with delight, and
consider that there is material enough in it for at least six good
declamatory and paying discourses. Well, whether correct or false,
the priests at St. Wilfrid's believed in the "miraculous cure," and
decided forthwith to agitate for a church in honour of St. Walburge.
That church is the one we now see on Maudlands--a vast and
magnificent pile, larger in its proportions than any other Preston
place of worship, and with a spire which can only be equalled for
altitude by two others in the whole country. What a potent
architectural charm was secreted in that mystic oil with which
Father Norris touched the knee of Alice! In the "Walpurgis dance of
globule and oblate spheroid," there may be something wonderful, but
through this drop of oil from the Walpurgian shrine an obstreperous
knee snapped up into compact health instantly, and then a large
church, ornamental to Preston and creditable to the entire Catholic
population, arose. There used to be a hospital, dedicated to Mary
Magdalen, either actually upon or very near the site occupied by St.
Walburge's Church; but that building disappeared long ago, and no
one can tell the exact character of it. Prior to, and until the
completion of, the erection of St. Walburge's Church, schools
intended for it, and built mainly at the expense of the late Mr. W.
Talbot, were raised on some adjoining land. Service in accordance
with the Catholic ritual was held therein until the completion of
the Church. Father Weston was the leading spirit in the construction
of St. Walburge's, and to him--although well assisted by Father
Williams--may be attributed the main honour of its development into
reality. Father Cobb, of St. Wilfrid's, laid the foundation stone of
St. Walburge's Church, on Whit-Monday, 1850; and on the 3rd of
August, 1854, the building was opened, the ceremony being of a very
grand and imposing description. The spire of the church was not
completed until 1887. The entire cost of the place has been about
15,000 pounds.
St. Walburge's is built in the early decorated Gothic style of
architecture, and it is beyond all controversy, a splendid looking
building. At the eastern end there is a remarkably fine seven-light
stained glass window. This is flanked by a couple of two-light
windows; and the general effect is most imposing. The central window
is 35 feet high. At the western end there is a beautifully-coloured
circular window, 22 feet in diameter, which was given by Miss Roper;
and beneath it there are small coloured lights, put in by Father
Weston out of money left him by Miss Green. Nearly all the side
windows in the church are coloured, and four of them are of the
"presentation" stamp. The most prominent thing about the church is
the spire, which, as well as the tower, is built of limestone, and
surmounted by a cross, the distance from its apex to the ground
being about 301 feet. We saw the weather vane fixed upon this spire,
and how the man who did the job managed to keep his head from
spinning right round, and then right off, was at the time an
exciting mystery to us which we have not yet been able to properly
solve. A little before the actual completion of the spire, we had a
chance of ascending it, but we remained below. The man in charge
wanted half-a-crown for the trip; and as we fancied that something
like 5 pounds ought to be given to us for undertaking a journey so
perilous, it was mutually decided that we should keep down. Why, it
would be a sort of agony to ascend the spire under the most
favourable circumstances; and as one might only tumble down if
ascension were achieved, the safest plan is to keep down altogether.
We have often philosophised on the question of punishment, and,
locally speaking, we have come to this conclusion, that agony would
be sufficiently piled in any case of crime, if the delinquent were
just hoisted to the top of St. Walburge's spire and left there. From
the summit of the tower, which is quite as high as safe-sided human
beings need desire to get, there is a magnificent view: Preston
lurches beneath like a hazy amphitheatre of houses and chimneys; to
the east you have Pendle, Longridge, and the dark hills of Bowland;
northwards, in the far distance, the undulating Lake hills;
westward, the fertile Fylde, flanked by the Ribble, winding its way
like a silver thread to the ocean; and southwards Rivington Pyke and
Hoghton's wooded summit with a dim valley to the left thereof, in
which Blackburn works and dreams out its vigorous existence. The
general scenery from the tower is panoramic and charming. The view
from the spire head must be immense and exquisite, but few people of
this generation, unless a very safe plan of ascension is found out,
will be able to enjoy it. In the tower there is a large bell,
weighing 31 cwt.; and it can make a very considerable sound,
drowning all the smaller ringing arrangements in the neighbourhood.
Some time, but not yet, there will probably be a peal of twelve
bells in the tower, for it has accomodation for that number.
Internally the church is very high and spacious; is decorated
artistically in many places; and a sense of mingled solemnity and
immensity comes over you on entering it. The roof is a tremendous
affair; it is open, and supported by eleven huge Gothic-fashioned
principals, each of which cost 100 pounds, and it is panelled above
with stained timber. But we don't care very much for the roof. No
doubt it is fine; but the whole of the wood work seems too, heavy
and much too dark. There is a cimmerian massiveness about it; and on
a dull day it looks quite bewildering. If it were stained in a
lighter colour its proportions would come out better, and much of
that gigantic gloom which now shadows it would be removed. There are
canopied stands for two and twenty statues towards the base of the
principals; but the whole of them, except about five, are empty.
Saints, &c., will be looked after for these stands when money is
more abundant, and when more essential work has been executed. What
seems to be proximately wanted in the church is a good sanctuary--
something in keeping with the general design of the building and
really worthy of the place. It is intended, we believe, to have a
magnificent sanctuary; but a proper design for one can't be exactly
hit on; when it is, the past liberality of the congregation is a
sufficient guarantee that the needful article--money--will be soon
forthcoming. Notwithstanding the greatness of the church, it will
not seat as many as some smaller places of worship. This is
accounted for through its having no galleries. There is a small
elevation in the shape of a gallery at the western end, which is
seldom used; but the sides of the church are open, the windows
running along them rendering this necessary. The church will
comfortably seat about 1,000 persons; 1,700 have been seen in it;
but there had to be much crushing, and all the aisles, &c., had to
be filled with standing people to admit such a number. The seats are
all well made and all open.
On a Sunday masses are said at eight, nine, ten, and eleven, and
there is an afternoon service at three. The aggregate average
attendance on a Sunday is about 3,000. There are three confessionals
in the church, towards the south-eastern-corner; they stand out like
small square boxes, and although made for everybody seem specially
adapted for thin and Cassius-like people. Falstaff's theory was--
more flesh more frailty. If this be so, then, there are either very
few "great" sinners at St. Walburge's or the large ones confess
somewhere else. The worshippers at this church are, in nine cases
out of ten, working people. The better class of people sit at the
higher end of the central benches; and if one had never seen them
there no difficulty would be experienced in finding out their seats.
You may always ascertain the character of worshippers by what they
sit upon. Working-class people rest upon bare boards; middle-class
individuals develop the cushion scheme to a moderate pitch; the
upper species push it towards consummation-like ease, and therefore
are the owners of good cushions. Very few cushions can be seen in
St. Walburge's; those noticeable are at the higher end; and the
logical inference, therefore, is that not many superb people attend
the place, and that those who do go sit just in the quarter
mentioned. At the doors of this church, as at those of other
Catholic places of worship in the town, you may see men standing
with boxes, asking for alms. These are brothers of the Society of
St. Vincent de Paul. The object of this society is to visit and
relieve the sick and the poor. The brothers are excellent
auxiliaries of the clergy; and, further, do the work of the
mendicity societies, like those now being established in London, by
examing applications for relief, and so disappointing impostors. The
conference of St. Vincent attached to St. Walburge's Church numbers
16 active members, who collected and distributed in food and
clothing during last year 112 pounds. The brothers are deserving of
all praise for spending their evenings in visiting the sick and
distressed, in courts and alleys, after their day's work.
The singers at this church occupy a small balcony on the south side.
They are a pretty musical body--got through their business ever so
creditably; but they are rather short of that which most choirs are
deficient in--tenor power. They would be heard far better if placed
at the western end but a good deal of expense would have to be
incurred in making orchestral arrangements for them there; so that
for some time, at least, they will have to be content with their
grated and curtained musical hoist on the southern side, singing
right out as hard as they can at the pulpit, which exactly faces
them, and at the preacher, if they like, when he gets into it. The
organ, which is placed above the singers, and would crush them into
irrecoverable atoms if it fell, is a fine instrument; but it is
pushed too far into the wall, into the tower which backs it, and if
there are any holes above, much of its music must necessarily escape
up the steeple. The organ is played with taste and precision. The
members of the choir sing gratuitously.
Since the opening of St. Walburge's there have been twelve different
priests at it. Three are in charge of it now. Father Weston was the
first priest, and, as already stated, was the mainspring of the
church. He died on the 14th of November, 1867, and to his memory a
stained glass window will by and bye be fixed in the church. This
window is in Preston now; we have seen it--it is a most beautiful
piece of workmanship; and as soon as the requisite money is
"resubscribed," the original contributions having, through
unfortunate financial circumstances, been more than half sacrificed,
it will be fixed. Father Henry, late rector of Stonyhurst College,
was for some time at St. Walburge's, and during his stay the work
begun by Father Weston, and pushed on considerably by successive
priests, was elaborated and finished. The three priests now at St.
Walburge's are Fathers J. Johnson (principal), Payne, and Papall.
Father Johnson, who has been at the church about fourteen months, is
a spare, long-headed, warm-hearted, unostentatious man. He is
between 50 and 60 years of age; has a practical, weather-beaten,
shrewd look; would be bad to "take in;" has much latent force; is a
kindly, fatherly preacher; is dry in humour till drawn out, and then
can be very genial; is a sharp man, mentally and executively; has
been provincial of the Jesuits and rector of Stonyhurst College;
knows what's what, and knows that he knows it; is determined, but
can be melted down; seems cold and sly, but has a kind spirit and an
honest tongue in his bead; and is the right man for his position.
Father Payne has been at St. Walburge's about four years. He has
passed 40 summers in single blessedness, and says he intends to
"last it out." His preaching is serious and earnest in style. His
eloquence may not be so captivating as that of some men; but it
comes up freely, and involves utterances of import. Father Payne has
not much action, but he has a good voice; he lifts his arms slowly
and regularly, leans forward somewhat, occasionally seizes both his
hands and shakes them a little; but beyond this there is not much
motion observable in him. He has a keen, discreet sense of things,
and, like the rest of his order, can see a long way. In private
life--that is to say when he is out of the pulpit and off general
duty--he is an affable, clear, merry, brisk-talking little
gentleman, fond of a good joke, a blithe chat, and a hearty laugh.
He is a pleasant Payne when in company, and if you knew him you
would say so. The last Daniel who cometh up to judgment is Father
Papall--the very embodiment of vivaciousness, linguistic activity,
and dignity in a nut shell. Dark-haired, sharp-eyed, spectacled;
diminutive, warm-blooded, he is about the most animated priest we
know of. He has English and Italian blood in his veins, and that
vascular mixture works him up beautifully. No man could stand such
an amalgam without being determined, volatile, practical, and at
times dreamy; and you have all these qualities developed in Father
Papall. He is 40 years of age, and has seen more foreign life than
many priests. He has been in Italy, where he resided for years, in
Holland, Belgium, Germany, France, America, &c.; and he has been at
St. Walburge's in this town, for 14 months. He is all animation when
conversing with you; and in the pulpit he talks from head to foot--
stirs all over, fights much with his sleeves, moves his arms, and
hands, and fingers as if under some hot spell of galvanism, and
fairly gets his "four feet" into the general subject, and revels
with a delicious activity in it at intervals. He is an earnest
preacher, has good intellectual constructiveness, and if he had not
to battle so much with our English idioms and curious modes of
pronunciation he would be a very potent speaker, and a racy
homilist. He has a sweeping powerful voice; you could almost hear
him if you were asleep, and this fact may account for the peculiarly
contented movements of several parties we observed recently at the
church whilst Father Papall was preaching. At least 20 near us went
to sleep in about five minutes after he began talking, slept very
well during the whole sermon, and at its conclusion woke up very
refreshed, made brisk crosses, listened awhile to the succeeding
music, &c., and then walked out quite cool and cheerful.
Most excellent schools are situated near and on the northern side of
the church. The average daily attendance of boys is 200; that of the
girls 260; that of the infants, 350. The boys seem well trained; the
girls, who are in charge of nuns--called "Companions of the Holy
Child Jesus"--are likewise industriously cared for; and the infants
are a show in themselves. We saw these 350 babies, for many of them
are nothing more, the other day, and the manner in which they
conducted themselves was simply surprising. The utmost order
prevailed amongst them, and how this was brought about we could not
tell. One little pleasant-looking nun had charge of the whole
confraternity, and she could say them at a word--make them as mute
as mice with the mere lifting of her finger, and turn them into all
sorts of merry moods by a similar motion, in a second. If this
little nun could by some means convey her secret of managing
children to about nineteen-twentieths of the mothers of the kingdom,
who find it a dreadful business to regulate one or two, saying
nothing of 350, babes and sucklings, she would confer a lasting
benefit upon the householders of Britain. Night and Sunday schools--
the latter being attended by about 700 boys and girls--are held in
the same buildings. There are five nuns at St. Walburge's; they live
in a convent hard by; and like the rest of their class they work
hard every day, and sacrifice much of their own pleasure for the
sake of that of other people--a thing which the generality of us
have yet to take first lessons in.