With the district in which this Church is situated we are not much
acquainted. With even the Church itself we have never been very
familiar. It is in a queer, far-of unshaven region. Aged sparrows
and men who like ale better than their mothers, dwell in its
surroundings; phalanxes of young Britons, born without head
coverings, and determined to keep them off; columns of wives,
beautiful for ever in their unwashedness, and better interpreters of
the 28th verse of the 1st chapter of Genesis then all the Biblical
commentators put together, occupy its district. Prior to visiting
St. Luke's Church we had some idea of its situation; but the idea
was rather inclined to be hazy when we desired to utilise it; we
couldn't bring it to a decisive point; and as we objected to the
common business of stopping every other person in order to get a
perplexing explanation of the situation, the question just resolved
itself into one of "Find it out yourself." Exactly so, we mentally
muttered on entering Ribbleton-lane; and we passed the thirty feet
House of Correction wall to the right thereof, with an air of
triumph, redolent of intrepidity and independence. To the left of
the lane entered we knew St. Luke's was located; but doubt
overshadowed its precise whereabouts. The first street in that
direction down which we looked contained, at the bottom, six coal
waggons and a gate. Those unhappy-looking waggons and that serious
gate couldn't, we said, be St. Luke's. Another street to the left;
but at the end of it we saw only a tavern, some tall rails, and an
old engine shed. Convinced that St. Luke's was not here, we
proceeded to the head of the third street, and down it were more
rails, sundry children, a woman sweeping the parapet, and the gable
of a mill. At the extreme end of the next a coal office and a gate
met us. Number five street showed up the fading placards of a news
shop, and the cold stillness of a Sunday morning factory. Down the
sixth avenue we peered eagerly, but "more factory" met us. The
termination of its successor consisted of pieces of timber, three
arches, and some mill ends. We had hope as to the bottom of the
next; but it was blighted and withered in its infancy as we gazed
upon 25 tree trunks, a mill, and two tall chimneys. Additional wood,
an office, and an entire mill formed the background of the street
subsequently encountered. Extra mill buildings closed up the career
of the road beyond it; ditto beyond that; partially ditto
afterwards, the front of the picture being relieved by a few thirsty
souls, looking plaintively at a landlord, who stood with a rolling
eye upon door step, anxious to officiate as the "Good Samaritan,"
but afraid to exercise his benevolence. After this there would
surely, we thought, be something like the church we were seeking.
But not so; a swampy wide road and more of the irrepressible mill
element constituted the whole of the scene presented.
It is, however, a long lane which has no turning, and at last we got
to a small corner shop, below which were two clothes props, one
being very much out of the perpendicular, an open piece of ground,
numerous bricks in a heap, and a railed round edifice rising calmly,
sedately, and diminutively. This was St. Luke's--the shrine we had
been looking for, the Mecca we had been in search of. Plenty of
breathing space has the church now: on three of its sides there is
a wide expanse; but the cottage homes of England are steadily
approaching it, and in time the building will be tightly surrounded
by innumerable dwellings, whose occupants, we hope, will feel the
spiritual salubrity of their situation. St. Luke's has a serene,
minutely-neat exterior; is proportionate, evenly balanced, and
devoid of that tortuous masonry which some architects delight to
honour. It is a meekly-conceived, yet substantially-built little
church, with a rural placidity and neatness about it, reminding one
of goodness without showiness, and use without sugar-coated detail.
A modest spire, very sharp-pointed, rises above the tower at the
western side. At the angles of the tower there are pinnacles,
supported not by monstrosities of the common gargoyle type, but by
pleasant featured angels, duly pinioned for flying. There appears to
have been a "rage" for windows at this said western end. From top to
bottom there are fifteen; four being moderately large, and the bulk
of the remainder remarkably small.
The interior of the church is particularly plain; is stone-coloured
all round; has an unassuming, modestly-serious, half-rural
appearance; has no tablets, no ornaments, and no striking colouring
of any kind on its main walls. It consists of a nave (depending upon
fourteen arches) and two aisles. The centre is pretty high, has a
narrow, open roof, and is moderately crowded with timber. The sides
are small, but in sitting in them you do not experience that buried-
alive sensation, that bewilderment beneath a heavy ceiling
elaborated with hugely awkward prop-work and pillars, which is felt
in some church aisles. Here, as at St. Mark's, there is a strong
belief in the healthiness of red curtains at the various entrances.
The chancel is high and open, and has rather a bare look. Within it
there are three windows, filled in with stained glass, of sweet
design, but defective in representative effect. The colours are
nicely arranged; but with the exception of a very small medallion in
the centre, referring to the Last Supper, they give you no idea of
anything living, or dead, or yet to be made alive. The windows were
put in by the late T. Miller, Esq;, C. R. Fletcher Lutwidge, Esq.;
and J. Bairstow, Esq., and they Cost 90 pounds. At the western end
there are three stained-glass windows, which look well. The colours
are rich, and the designs artistic. Two of them, we believe, were
fixed in memory of the late Mrs. Winlaw. The vestry stands on one
side of the chancel, and in the doorway of it there is a red
curtain, intended to keep out the tail end of whirlwinds and
draughts in general. When we looked into this vestry, the idea
flashed upon us that its occupant must be a specially studious and
virtuous gentleman, for upon the mantelpiece there were 14 large
Bibles, surmounted by three sacramental guides. But earth is very
nigh to heaven, and when we saw a series of begging boxes flanking
the books, and a looking-glass, which must at some time have cost
tenpence, we retreated.
From the centre of the chancel, the church looks very imposing:
indeed, you get a full view of all its architectural details here,
and the conclusion previously arrived at, through what you may have
seen from other points--namely, that the edifice is simple, bucolic,
and prosaic--is entirely changed. The reading desk is a commendable
article, and with care will last a considerable period. The pulpit--
circular-shaped, and somewhat small in proportions--has a seemly
appearance; but it looks only a homely-built affair when minutely
inspected, and might be pulled in pieces quickly by a passionate
man. Two or three curious articles are associated with it. At the
base, there is quietly lying an aged gutta percha pipe, the object
of which we could not make out; and in the pulpit there is another
gutta percha pipe, with an elongated, funnel-shaped top, put up,
probably, for some very useful purpose--for whispering, or speaking,
or sneezing, or coughing--which alone concerns the preacher, and
need not be further inquired into by us. There is a thermometer
opposite the pulpit, which, probably, is intended to test the
atmosphere of the church, but which may, for aught we know, be
serviceable to the minister in moments of extreme mental coldness,
or in periods of high clerical enthusiasm. If he can regulate the
sacred temperature of either the reading desk or the pulpit by this
thermometer, and can, in addition, utilise the gutta percha tubes as
exhaust pipes, then we think he will derive a tangible advantage
from their presence. Near the entrance to the centre aisle there is
a somewhat handsome stone font, octagonal in shape, carved on four
of its sides, and resting upon a circular pedestal, which is
surrounded by eight small pillars. Not far from and on each side of
the font there is an official wand, carried at intervals, with a
decorum akin to majesty, by the beadle.
St. Luke's Church was opened on the 3rd of August, 1859; the cost of
it--land, building, and everything--being 5,350 pounds. The late J.
Bairstow, Esq., was an admirable friend of St. Luke's; he gave 700
pounds towards the building fund, and 6,000 pounds for the
endowment. The church will accommodate 800 persons. Three-fourths of
the sittings are free. The average attendance on Sundays, including
school children, is 250. Considering that there are about 5,500
persons in the district, this number is only trifling. When we
visited the church there were 280 present, and out of this number
160 were children. We fancied that the weather, for it was rather
unfavourable, might have kept many away, but when we recollected
that we had passed groups of men standing idly at contiguous street
corners, discussing the merits of dogs and ale, as we walked to the
church; and saw at least 40 young fellows within a good stone throw
of it as we left, hanging about drinking-house sides, in the
drizzling rain, waiting for "opening time," and talking coolly about
"half gallons," we grew doubtful as to the correctness of our
supposition. If men could bear a quiet drenching in the streets,
could leave their homes for the purpose of congregating on the sides
of parapets, in order to make a descent upon places essentially
"wet," we fancied that moderately inclement weather could not, after
all, be set down as the real reason for a thin congregation at St.
Lukes. The fact is, there is much of that religion professed by the
horse of Shipag in this district--working on week days and stuffing
on Sundays is the creed of the multitude.
The congregation worshipping at St. Luke's is formed chiefly of
working people. In summer the scholars sit in a small gallery at the
west end; in winter they are brought into 28 seats below it. They
seem to be of a rather active turn of mind, for in their management
they keep two or three men and a female hard at work, and continue
after all to have a fair amount of their own way--not, perhaps,
quite so much of it as three youths who sat before us, who appeared
to extract more pleasure out of some verses on a tobacco paper than
out of either the hymns or the sermon--but still enjoying a good
share of personal freedom, which children will indulge in. There is
a service at St. Luke's every Wednesday evening; but it is not much
cared for. Only about 30 attend it, and it is not known to what
extent they enjoy the Proceedings. The instrumental music of the
church has apparently been regulated on the Darwinian theory of
"selection." What it was at the very beginning we can-cannot say;
but towards the commencement it appears to have been emitted from a
small harmonium; then a little organ was procured, and it came from
that; then a large organ was obtained, and from that it now
radiates. Some day a still larger instrument may be procured; but
the present one, which used to do duty in Christ Church, Preston, is
a respectable, good-looking, tuneful apparatus; and it is played
with ability by an energetic, clerical-looking young gentleman, who
receives a small salary for his services. The members of the choir
manifest tolerable skill in their performances; but they lack power,
and are hampered at line ends by the dragging melody of the
scholars.
The incumbent of St. Luke's is the Rev. W. Winlaw--a grave, sharp-
featured gentleman, who comes from the north, and, like all his
fellow-countrymen, knows perfectly well what time it is. Mr. Winlaw
was originally an Independent minister, and he looks like one to
this day. He was a fellow-student of the Rev. G. W. Clapham,
formerly of Lancaster-road Congregational Chapel, Preston, and now a
minister of the Church of England. Mr. Winlaw was the successor of
the Rev. J. H. Cuff (father of Messrs. Cuff, of this town), at an
Independent Chapel in Wellington. In 1855 he was ordained by the
Bishop of Manchester to St. Peter's, Ashton-under-Lyne. In 1867 he
came to Preston, as curate of St. Paul's, and in 1859 he was
appointed incumbent of St. Luke's. Mr. Winlaw is a slender,
carefully-organised, cute, sharp-eyed man; is inclined to be
fastidious, punctillious, and cold; is a ready speaker; talks with
grammatical accuracy and laboured precision; is rather wordy and
unctuous; can draw out his sentences to a high pitch of solemnity,
and tone them off in syllabic whispers; has an active physiognomical
expression--can turn the muscles of his face in all directions;
shakes his head considerably in the reading-desk and pulpit, as if
constantly in earnest; is keenly susceptible, and has strong
convictions; couldn't be easily persuaded off a notion after once
seeing it in his own light; seems to have smiled but seldom; has
sharp perceptive powers--looks into you with a piercing eye; cares
little for the odd or the humorous--has a strong sense of clerical
dignity; would become sarcastic if touched in the quick; is earnest,
cautious, melancholy, and felt-hatted; has good strategic powers;
can see a considerable way; is vigorous when roused, maidenly when
cool, cutting when vexed, meek when in smooth water; is generally
exact in composition, and clear in style; but preaches rather long
sermons, and has a difficulty in giving over when he has got to the
end. In one of his sermons we heard him say, after a five-and-twenty
minutes run, "In conclusion," "Lastly," and "Finally;" and we had
almost made up our mind for another sermon after he had "finished,"
but he decided to give over without preaching it. Mr. Winlaw, in the
main, is a fair speaker, with a rather eccentric modulation, is a
medium, gentlemanly-seeming, slightly-inflated, polished, precise
minister, who has earned the confidence of his flock, and the
goodwill of many about him. Like every other parson he is not quite
perfect; but he appears to be suitable for the district, and with a
salary of 300 pounds per annum is, we hope, happy. Day and Sunday
schools adjoin the Church. At the former, there is an average
attendance of 180; at the latter of 400. A capital library is
attached to the schools. Orange and other societies for the
maintenance of Protestantism, and the support of "Our glorious
Constitution," exist in connection with the church, and the members,
who are rather of the high-pressure type, enjoy the proceedings of
them muchly.