There is something so severely mental, and so theologically daring
in Unitarianism that many can't, whilst others won't, hold communion
with it. Unbiased thinkers, willing to give all men freedom of
conscience, admit the force of its logic in some things, the
sincerity of its intentions in all, but deem it too dry and much too
intellectual for popular digestion. The orthodox brand it as
intolerably heretical and terribly unscriptural; the multitude of
human beings;--like "Oyster Nan" who couldn't live without "running
her vulgar rig"--consider it downright infidelity, the companion of
rationalism, and the "stepping Stone to atheism." Still there are
many good people who are Unitarians; many magnificent scholars who
recognise its principles; and if "respectability" is any proof of
correctness--this age, in the obliquity of its vision, and in the
depth of its respect for simple "appearances," says it is--then
Unitarianism ought to be a very proper article, for its
congregations, though comparatively small, are highly seasoned with
persons who wear capital clothes, take their time from the best of
watches, and have ever so much of what lawyers call "real and
personal" property. Men termed "Monarchians" were the first special
professors of Unitarianism. They made their appearance between the
second and third centuries, and, if Tertullian tells the truth, they
consisted of "the simple and the unlearned." Directly after the
Reformation Unitarianism spread considerably on the continent, and
Transylvania, which now contains about 56,000 of its followers,
became its great stronghold. Unitarianism got into England about the
middle of the 16th century; and many of the Presbyterian divines who
were ejected during the century which followed--in 1662--gradually
became believers in it. In England the Unitarians have now about 314
chapels and emission stations; in Scotland there are only five
congregations recognising Unitarianism; in Ireland about 40; in our
colonies there are a few; in the United States of America the body
has 256 societies; in France, Germany, Holland, &c., the principles
of Unitarianism are pretty extensively believed in. Some of our
greatest thinkers and writers have been Unitarians: Milton was one,
so was John Locke, and so was Newton. In different ages there have
been different classes of Unitarians; in these days there are at
least two--the conservative and the progressive; but in the past the
following points were generally believed, and in the present there
is no diversity of opinion regarding them, viz., that the Godhead is
single and absolute, not triune; that Christ was not God, but a
perfect being inspired with divine wisdom; that there is no efficacy
in His vicarious atonement, in the sense popularly recognised; and
that original sin and eternal damnation are in accordance with
neither the Scriptures nor common sense.
The origin of Unitarianism in Preston, as elsewhere, is mixed up
with the early strivings and operations of emancipated
Nonconformity. We can find no record of Nonconformists in Preston
until the early part of the 18th century. At that period a chapel
was erected at Walton-le-Dale, mainly, if not entirely, by Sir Henry
de Hoghton--fifth baronet, and formerly member of parliament for
Preston--who was one of the principal patrons of Nonconformity in
this district. Very shortly afterwards, and under the same
patronage, a Nonconformist congregation was established to Preston--
meetings having previously been held in private houses--and the Rev.
John Pilkington, great uncle of W. O. Pilkington, Esq., of the
Willows, near this town, who is a Unitarian, was the minister of it,
as well as of that in Walton. In 1718, a little building was erected
for the Nonconformists of Preston on a piece of land near the bottom
and on the north side of Church-street. This was the first
Dissenting chapel raised in Preston, and in it the old
Nonconformists--Presbyterians we ought to say--spent many a free and
spiritually-happy hour. Eventually the generality of the
congregation got into a "Monarchian" frame of mind, and from that
time till this the chapel has been held by those whom we term
Unitarians. The "parsonage house" of the Unitarian minister used to
be in Church-street, near the chapel; but it has since been
transmuted into a shop. One of the ministers at this place of
worship towards the end of the last century, was a certain Mr.
Walker, but he couldn't masticate the Unitarian theory which was
being actively developed in it, so he walked away, and for him a
building in Grimshaw-street--the predecessor of the present
Independent Chapel there--was subsequently erected.
The edifice wherein our Unitarian friends assemble every Sunday, is
an old-fashioned, homely-looking, little building--a tiny,
Quakerised piece of architecture, simple to a degree, prosaic,
diminutive, snug, dull. It is just such a place as you could imagine
old primitive Non-conformists, fonder of strong principles and
inherent virtue than of external embellishment and masonic finery,
would build. It can be approached by two ways, but it is of no use
trying to take advantage of both at once. You would never get to the
place if you made such an effort. There is a road to it from Percy-
street--this is the better entrance, but not much delight can be
found in it; and there is another way to the chapel from Church-
street--up a delicious little passage, edged on the right with a
house-side, and on the left with a wall made fierce with broken
glass, which will be sure to cut the sharpest of the worshippers if
they ever attempt to get over it. What there really is behind that
glass-topped wall we are at a loss to define; but it is evidently
something which the occupier of the premises apprehends the
Unitarians may have an illicit liking for? If they want to get to it
we would recommend the use of some heavy, blunt instrument, by which
they could easily break the glass, after which they might quietly
lift each other over. Recently, a small sign has been fixed at the
end of the passage, and from the letters upon it an inference may be
safely drawn that the Unitarian Chapel is somewhere beyond it. To
strangers this will be useful, for, prior to its exhibition, none
except those familiar with the place, or gifted with an instinct for
threading the mazes of mystery, could find out, with anything like
comfort, the location of the chapel. Whether the people have or have
not "sought for a sign," one has at any rate been given to them
here. A small, and somewhat neat, graveyard is attached to the
chapel; there are several tomb-stones laid flat upon the ground; and
in the centre of it there is a rather elaborate one, substantially
railed round, and surmounting the vault of the Ainsworth family. The
remains of the late W. Ainsworth, Esq., a well-known and respected
Preston gentleman, are interred here.
At the northern side of, and directly adjoining, the chapel there is
a small Sunday school, It was erected about 15 years ago; the
scholars previous to that time having met in a little building in
Lord's-walk. The average attendance of scholars at present is about
60. The chapel, internally, is small, clean, plain, and ancient-
looking. A central aisle runs directly up to the pulpit, and it is
flanked with a range of high old-fashioned pews, some being plain, a
few lined with a red-coloured material, and several with faded green
baize, occasionally tacked back and elaborated with good old-
fashioned brass nails. The seats vary in size, and include both the
moderately narrow and the full square for family use. There are nine
variously shaped windows in the building: through three of them you
can see sundry things, ranging from the spire of the Parish Church
to the before-mentioned wall with the broken glass top; through some
of the others faint outlines of chimneys may be traced. The chapel
is light and comfortable-looking. There seems to be nothing in the
place having the least relationship to ornament except four small
gas brackets, which are trimmed up a little, and surmounted with
small crosses of the Greek pattern. At the west end, supported by
two pillars, there is a small gallery, in which a few elderly
people, the scholars, and the choir are deposited. The body of the
chapel will accommodate about 200 persons. The average attendance,
excluding the scholars, will be perhaps 60. When we visited the
place there were 50 present--45 downstairs and five in the gallery;
and of these, upwards of 30 were females.
The congregation is quite of a genteel and superior character. There
are a few rather poor people embraced in it; but nine out of ten of
the regular worshippers belong to either independent or prosperous
middle class families. The congregation, although still "highly
respectable," is not so influential in tone as it used to be. A few
years ago, six or seven county magistrates might have been seen in
the chapel on a Sunday, and they were all actual "members" of the
body; but death and other causes have reduced the number of this
class very considerably, and now not more than two are constant
worshippers. There is neither sham, shoddy, nor rant amongst them.
From one year end to another you will never hear any of them during
any of the services rush into a florid yell or reduce their
spiritual emotions to a dull groan. They abstain from everything in
the contortional and ejaculative line; quiet contemplative
intellectualism appears to reign amongst them; a dry, tranquil
thoughtfulness, pervades the body. They are eclectical, optimic,
cool; believe in taking things comfortably; never conjure up during
their devotions the olden pictures of orthodoxy; never allow their
nerves to be shattered with notions about the "devil," or the
"burning lake" in which sinners have to be tortured for ever and
ever; never hear of such things from the pulpit, wouldn't tolerate
them if they did; think that they can get on well enough without
them. They may be right or they may be very wrong; but, like all
sections of Christians, they believe their own denominational child
the best.
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.