We have made no inquiry as to the original predecessors of those
attending this church. They may have been links in the chain of
those men who, ages ago, planted themselves on the coast of Malabar,
rejoicing in the name of "Christians of St. Thomas," and struggling
curiously with Nestorians, Franciscans, Dominicans, and Jesuits;
they may have constituted a remnant of the good people whom Cosmas
Indicopleustes saw in the East twelve hundred years since; they may
have only had a Preston connection, knowing nothing of the Apostle
of India--St. Thomas--beyond what anybody knows, and caring more for
his creed than his title. Whatever may have been their history and
fate, it is certain their successors believe in that most
apostolical of unbelievers just mentioned--so far, at least, as the
name is concerned. The church they respect is situated at the
northern end of Preston, near the junction of Moor-lane and
Lancaster-road. It is a small, strong, hard-looking building; seems
as if it would stand any amount of rain and never get wet through,
any quantity of heat and never have a sunstroke; it is stoical,
cold, firm, and very stony; has a bodkin-pointed spire, ornamented
with round holes and circular places into which penetration has not
yet been effected; and its "tout ensemble" is in no way edifying. It
is neither ornate nor colossal. Strength, plainness, and smallness,
with a strong dash of general rigidity, are its outward
characteristics.
St. Thomas's is one of the local churches erected through the
exertions of the late Rev. R. Carus Wilson; and, like all those
churches, it is built in the Norman style of architecture--a
massive, severe style, which will never be popularly pleasing, but
will always secure endurance for the edifices constructed on its
principles. The first stone of this church was laid in August, 1837.
The building stands upon a hill, is surrounded by a powerful stone
wall, can be approached two ways, and has its front entrance
opposite a small street, which has not yet received any name at all.
To a stranger, ingress to the building is rather perplexing. A
gateway in Lancaster-road, leading to a footpath, fringed with
rockery, would appear to be the front way, but it is only a rear
road, and when you get fairly upon it you wonder where it will end--
whether you will be able to get to the interior by it, or only to
some rails on one side and a wall on the other. It, however,
eventuates round a corner, at the main entrance. We recommend this
back way, for the legitimate front road is much more intricate and
harassing; you can only become acquainted with it, if
topographically unenlightened, and bashful as to making inquiries,
by hovering about an ancient windmill, moving up narrow hilly
streets, flanked by angular bye-paths, and then following either the
first woman you see with a prayer book in her hand, or the first man
you catch a sight of with a good coat on his back. The main entrance
is ornamental but diminutive in many respects. There are three
doorways here, the collateral ones, which are very low, and quite
calculated to prevent people from entering the building with their
hats on, being patronised the most--not because there is an
offertory box in the central passage, but because the side roads are
the handiest. During a second visit to the church we went in by the
middle door, the medium course, as the proverb hath it, being the
safest, and seeing the offertory box--a remarkably strong, iron-
cornered article, fastened to the wall--we remarked to an official,
in his shirt sleeves, who was with us, "This will stand a deal of
money before falling." The official replied "It will so," and the
look, he gave us superinduced the conclusion that the offertory box
was not going to fall for some time.
We have seen no more deceptive-looking church than that we are now
at. Viewed externally, you would say that scarcely a good handful of
people could be accommodated in it; it seems so narrow, so entirely
made up of and filled in with stone, that one infers at first sight
it will hardly hold the parson and the sacrament-loving "old woman"
who invariably exists as a permanent arrangement at all our places
of worship; but this is a fallacy, for the building will accommodate
about 1,100 people. The interior consists of a nave, two aisles, and
a chancel. Everything in the building seems strong, clean, and good;
and considering the ponderous character of its architecture a fair
share of light is admitted to it. At the entrance, there is a glass
screen, ornamentally got up and surmounted with a small lion and
unicorn design. Just within this screen there is a curtained pew,
and sitting within its enclosure must be a very snug and select
thing. It is occupied by Mr. Hermon, M.P., and when he draws the
curtains all round--"he sometimes does," said the official
accompanying us--no one can see a morsel of him whilst he can see
never a one in the building, not even the parson, without a special
effort. The nave is broad and quadrangular, is supported by
immensely strong pillars, and has a fine high roof, looking clean
and spacious, but considerably spoiled by several commonplace
awkwardly fashioned beams. The roof of each aisle is similarily
marred. The seats are disposed in six parallel ranges, and the
generality are quite good enough for anybody. Along each side there
is a row of free seats--about 50 altogether--capable of
accommodating upwards of 300 persons. There are also many free seats
in the gallery.
The present incumbent has an idea that he has made some addition to
this accomodation; but people who have known the church ever since
it was built say that the extra "free pews" appropriated for the
poor by him were never charged for. At the end of each aisle there
is a neat stained glass window; that to the right bearing this
inscription--"To the memory of W. P. Jones, M.A., ob. January 29,
1864, aged 77 years," and that on the left these words "To the
memory of Mrs. Fanny Jones, ob. January 27, 1864, aged 75 years."
Mr. Jones was a former incumbent of St. Thomas's. He was a quiet,
mild-minded man, devoid of bombast, neither cynical nor meddlesome,
and was well liked by all. His wife died just two days before him,
and both were interred in one grave in St. Peter's church yard. The
pulpit and reading desk at St. Thomas's are good-looking and
substantial, but both are rather bad to get into and out of--the
steps are narrow and angular, with a sudden descent, which might
cause a stranger to miss his footing and fall, if he had not firm
hold of the side rail. Right above, perhaps 20 feet high, and
surmounting the chancel arch, there is a small ornamental
projection, like a balcony. It would make a capital stand for the
minister; or might be turned into a conspicuous place of Sunday
resort for the wardens; but, then, they would have to be hoisted to
it, for there is no road up, and that would not be seemly. Formerly,
we believe, this balcony was used by the singers, but they were
subsequently transplanted to the western gallery. The passage to the
balcony front is now shut off. A considerable effort at
ornamentation has been made on the walls flanking the balcony
described. But we don't care much for it. Little pillars, quaint
window models, and other architectural devices, are heaped upon each
other in curious profusion, and it is difficult to get at their real
meaning. They relieve the walls a little, but they do the work
whimsically, and you can neither get a smile nor a tear from them.
The chancel arch is strong and ornamental; within it there is
another arch, the intervening roof being neatly groined and
coloured; and beyond there is the chancel--a small, somewhat
cimmerian, yet pretty-looking place. There are five windows in it;
three having sacred figures painted upon them, and the remaining two
being filled in with fancy designs, which don't look over well,
owing to the decay of the colours.
The congregation is tolerably numerous, has in it the high, the
fair-middling, and the humble--the good-looking, the well-dressed,
the rubicund, the mildly mahogany-featured, the simply-dressed, the
attenuated, and the indigent. But there is a clear halo of
respectability about the place; superior habiliments are distinctly
in the ascendant; and orderly behaviour reigns throughout each
section of worshippers. The free seats are very fairly patronised,
and sometimes very oddly. In one part of them we saw nine persons
all near each other, and out of that number five wore spectacles,
whilst three could only see with one eye. At the western end of the
church there is a beautiful circular window, but it has not met with
very good treatment. It has been broken in one part, and every
morsel of it is covered up from general view by the organ occupying
the gallery. Only the organ blower can see it properly, and having
the whole of it to himself, it is to be expected he will derive some
consolation from his special position. If he doesn't, then he
neither gets up the wind nor looks through the window properly. The
organ is a good one, and it is played with average ability, but it
is too big for the place it occupies, and entirely swamps what was
once considered a fine gallery. The singers are rather afraid of
giving vent to their feelings. They discourse the music tastefully,
but they are too quiet, and don't get into a temper, as they ought
to do occasionally, over it. Prior to the advent of the present
incumbent, the choir, considering its numbers, was, perhaps, as good
as any in the town or neighbourhood; but one Sunday morning the
gentleman referred to, having apparently been fiercely stung by a
Ritualistic wasp, blew the trumpet of his indignation very strongly-
-got into a whirlwind of denunciation all at once and without the
aid of a text, regarding Ritualism; and the organist and singers,
whose musical services embraced chants, &c., fancying that the rev.
gentleman was either tired of their presence or performances, many
of which were voluntary, sent in their resignations. Since then the
music has not been very brilliant.
There are religious services every Sunday morning and evening at St.
Thomas's, and on Thursday night a small gathering of the faithful
takes place in the building. The trustees of the church are--Miss
Margaret Ann Beckles, St. Leonard's; Samuel Husband Beckles, Esq.,
of the Middle Temple; the Rev. Edward Auriol, St. Dunstans; the Rev.
Charles F. Close, St. Ann's, Blackfriars; the Rev. W. Cadman,
Marylebone; and Sir Hugh Hill. The Rev. L. W. Jeffrey was the first
incumbent of the church; then came the Rev. W. P. Jones, who died,
as before stated, in 1884; afterwards the Rev. J. T. Becher was
appointed to the incumbency, but he died from typhus fever in five
weeks and was succeeded by the Rev. J. P. Shepperd who still holds
the post and receives from it about 400 pounds a year.
Mr. Shepperd is a man of middle age, and looks after his sheep
fairly, but at times eccentrically. He has a polished, tasteful,
clerical contour; attends well to his hair, whiskers, and linen;
wears a hat half bishoply and half archidiaconal in its brim; is a
good scholar, a clear reasoner, an able-preacher, but repeats
himself often, and gets long-winded on Sunday nights; is highly
enamelled, touchy, and imperial; is lofty in tone, cream laid and
double thick in manner; is full of metal, and there is a stately
mystery about him, as if he were a blood relation of the Great
Mokanna; he is nearly infallible, and would make a good Pope; he is
strongly combative, and would be a vigorous bruiser in stormy
ecclesiastical circles. We fancy no parson in Preston has had more
officials than Mr. Shepperd. In less than half a dozen years there
have been at the place many organists, singers, curates, scripture
readers, and eight or nine churchwardens. Either they have been very
uneasy people or he has been uniquely antagonistic. Mr. Shepperd
resides at a good parsonage some distance north of the church, and
he has a pretty garden adjoining, the walls thereof having been
built at the expense of Mr. Hermon, who has been a capital friend to
the church. In the garden there is a quantity of handsome rockery,
purchased by the late Mr. James Carr (who was at one time a warden),
out of the church funds. This rockery was originally placed in the
church yard, along with that still remaining there; but it was
thought by somebody that the yard didn't require so much ornamental
stone, so a quantity of it was removed to the place mentioned. If
Mr. Shepperd has it set in a circle he may play the Druid amongst
it, reserving the biggest block for a cromlech and the smoothest for
a seat; if it is concentrated in one mass he may stand upon it, defy
all the ex-churchwardens, and quoting Scott, cry out, "Come one,
come all, this rock shall fly" &c. Originally, St. Thomas's cost a
considerable amount of money, and in consequence of improvements
subsequently made, there is still, it is said, a pretty round sum
due to the late wardens and the contractors, and they, are much in
the dark as to when they will get it. The parson can't see the force
of paying it himself, the officers of the church make no move in the
matter, the congregation is apathetic on the subject, the beadle
keeps quiet, and does his central church walk calmly, never thinking
of it. But, if owing, somebody should settle the bill, and the
sooner it is liquidated, the more respectable will the affairs of
the church become. Bother without end has prevailed at St. Thomas's
about money, and until people get their own, and see regular annual
statements of accounts--things which seem to be scarce in these
times--they will continue to be uneasy and, probably, noisy.
Associated with the church are superior schools--one for infants, in
the unchristened street near the church, and two others for boys and
girls, in Lancaster-road. The average day attendance is--boys, 250;
girls, 220; infants, 240. The average attendance on the Sunday is--
boys, 250; girls, 320. The day schools are in a good state of
efficiency, and are of great service to the district. They are well
managed, and with respect to some of their departments Government
reports speak most encouragingly. Worn old grievances with ex-
churchwardens are duly squared, when a greater amount of what is
called "fixity of tenure" exists in respect to the officials, and
when Mr. Sheppard drops his little dogma as to personal immaculacy,
and allows other people a trifle more freedom, his flock will be
fatter, woollier, and quieter than ever they have been since he
came.