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Extract
from
Our Country
Churches and Chapels
By
Atticus
A Hewitson
1872
Web
transcription ©2002 Hubmaker
For reference only - Reproduction by any means strictly
prohibited
RUFFORD
CHURCH
"Rufford?"
said we, nodding at a railway carriage forming one of
a train of twelve, standing alongside the eastern platform
of the Preston station. "Yes," answered a radiant-faced
guard, and the quick style in which he got rid of that
small word, made us believe that the train was on the
very edge of moving. But it wasn't. We sat still for five
minutes wasting the moments of a valuable life; then read
a polemical book for five minutes; then for five minutes
surveyed the cimmerian roof of the old station; afterwards
for five minutes tried to find relief in the board advertisements
fixed opposite the carriage, and involving the quintessence
of incongruity - cock and hen feeding compounds, wine
cellar frames, turnip manure recommendations, college
prospectuses, furniture vans, brandy bottles, stoves,
anti-bilious pills, &c; then had ushered into our
presence a solitary and exactly-moulded swell; for five
minutes we looked obliquely at him, but found no comfort
in the creature; then got into an introspective mood,
as philosophers would call it, for five minutes; and at
the expiration of that time the train was off. Evenly
and rapidly did it move along; but we had small comfort,
for we had little company, in the journey. There was,
to be sure, the solitary swell; but he, like all swells,
was too fine and too incipient for our taste. Not a word
did he utter. For a moment or two he concentrated his
mind upon his boot laces-got them tight ,and regular;
and then, during the remainder of the passage, he entered
into a painfully-precise rectification of his finger nails
- cut them round evenly, rubbed them delicately, scraped
them tenderly, polished them thoroughly, and just when
we were on the point of imagining that he would be pulling
out a microscope to examine them, a stout voice shouted
out "Rufford." We emerged from the carriage
instantly, leaving the lone swell to solve in his own
peculiar fashion the great and momentous finger nail question.
What a clean, sweet, rural-looking station this is, said
we, mentally, after the train had moved onwards and we
had got a chance of surveying the place. And how select
and quiet it is! was the thought which followed. At some
country stations, on a Sunday in particular, you are annoyed
and "faced out" by gossipping, lounging, inanely
staring gangs of young men and lads, who saunter up from
the village, eye you from hat to shoes, laugh like idiots
if you are dressed contrary to their own traditional ideas
of propriety, and discuss the colour and cut of your top-coat
for long enough after you have gone out of sight.
Croston
station is one of the worst in the country for this sort
of thing. Extremes, however, meet; so at the very next
station - Rufford - we experience a quietude and a serenity,
a stillness and a freedom, most distinct in appearance,
and most refreshing in its influence. "What do they
mean?" said we to the little russet-hued stationmaster,
pointing at two blue shields with a wheat sheaf in the
centre of them, placed at each side of the station, and
he replied, "They're Sir Thomas's arms - put up out
of respect; but some thinks as they're for the district
- its agricultural, you see." We pass through a small
gate, reach the road, turn round, see another blue shield
at the back of the station, with a central wheat sheaf
upon it; look upon Sir Thomas as the veritable Grand Lama
and sovereign Inca of the district; spin, devotionally,
the rotatory calabash, on his behalf; turn to the right,
observe a newly-made gigantic building - looking bigger
than the church ahead - with the words "Fermor Arms
Hotel" in front of it; give the calabash another
twist, for Sir T. G. Fermor-Hesketh is, evidently the
chief power in this district; move onwards over a small
bridge spanning a little canal, listen to the warbling
of birds - the air is full of their music, get confused
with the noises of crows, observe stray pheasants coolly
walking into patches of underwood, see a hare now and
then bolt across the corner of a pasture - get a glimpse
of the old hall of Rufford, with its clustered chimnies,
small castellations, and light-coloured antique gablets,
and on the whole experience the fullest and happiest of
pastoral sensations. Rufford is, indeed, a beautiful spot.
The cottages and the farmsteads in it look as if they
had, by a happy enchantment, dropped from some region
above, amid ancestoral trees, and fruitful orchards, and
rich garden grounds, and fresh green fields. Everything
is essentually rural - purely rustic - exquisitely pastoral.
In old times, Rufford constituted part of the parish of
Croston. In 1793 it was separated therefrom, and is still
what it was then made into - an independent parish. In
breadth, from north to south, it is two and a quarter,
miles, whilst from east to west it is three miles. There
are neither mines, nor quarries, nor manufactories of
any sort in the parish: it is exclusively devoted to that
oldest and most substantial of all the sciences - agriculture.
The manor of Rufford, which is mentioned as early as the
reign of Henry I. passed by marriage (with Alice, daughter
and sole heir Of Edmund Fytton) into the hands of Sir
John Heskayte, knight, early in the 14th century. Sir
William de Hesket, son of Sir John, got a charter in the
reign of Edward III. to hold a market every Friday, and
a fair on the feast of St. Philip and St. James, "at
his manor of Rugford" (Rufford). It is also worthy
of remark that Edward III., during his sojourn in Normandy,
gave Sir William a license to found a chantry in St. Mary's
chapel, Rufford. A fine of 40s. a year was once claimed
from the manor of Rufford by the monastery of St. Werburgh;
and Bussel, the second baron of Penwortham, gave by way
of alms one carucate of land in Rufford to the abbey of
Chester. The dean and chapter of Chester receive £40
a year now from the manor "in virtue of that grant."
There is no market at Rufford now. A fair, however, is
held once a year at the place, for cattle, &c. In
the village, rising from a basement of steps, there formerly
stood a stone pillar; but in 1818 it was removed. Many
alterations and improvements have been made in Rufford,
which is owned by Sir T. G. Fermor-Hesketh, M.P, during,
the present century: old buildings have given way to new
ones, small, miserable-looking cottages have been supplanted
by neat clean dwellings, and there is a unique seclusion
and selectness about the place, seen in but few country
villages. There are no lodgers, no wandering vagrants,
no "dark horses" here; everybody knows everybody
else; and if a stranger should by chance appear for a
short time in the village he is looked at as a curiosity,
and speculated upon as a wonder. The chief buildings in
the parish are the two Rufford Halls - the old one, a
beautifully antique structure, surrounded by trees, on
the north-eastern side of the village, and occupied by
the Dowager Lady Hesketh; and the new one, a stately massive
edifice on the western side, forming the residence of
Sir Thomas, her son. The old hall was, it is supposed,
erected about the end of the 15th century. It contains
handsome rooms, magnificent furniture, and there is attached
to it a fine old banqueting hall. The new hall was built
by Sir Thomas Dalrymple Hesketh, bart., grandfather of
the present Sir Thomas, in 1798. It stands in a broad-sweeping,
beautiful park, and has an imposing, handsome appearance.
But we must direct our attention to the church - a new
building standing at the eastern extremity of the parish,
and not far from the railway station. It is impossible
to say when the first church was built here; but it is
certain that the one we see is the successor of an olden
line of similar edifices. In 1734 the old church then
standing was rebuilt by the Hesketh family. It was a plain,
heavy, barn-like structure, with a large stone cupola
at the western end, and was more remarkable for its ugliness
of architecture and inconvenience of internal arrangement
than anything else. Like its ancestors it was dedicated
to the Virgin Mary, and like them it was in time pulled
down. The present church stands upon the old site, but
it is an entirely new building, and cost in its erection
about £5,000, which sum was
mainly, if not entirely, subscribed in the district. We
enter the churchyard, a pretty extensive one, at a quarter
past ten in the forenoon - Sunday forenoon. We are sure
it is that time, although a gilt-faced clock on one side
of
the church front says it is four and a half minutes past
three. We afterwards find out that the clock (which was
put up by the Lady Dowager Hesketh at a cost of 120 guineas,
in memory of the late Sir T. H. Hesketh, bart.) is stopped,
owing to some internal breakage. Leaving the clock, we
look down the yard and notice a little old man with a
very large hat at the back of his head, holding a walking
stick in his right hand, and wandering amid the gravestones.
In a quarter of an hour - seeing nobody else either in
or about the church - we went to him and said "Are
you the congregation, this morning?" The little old
man smiled, and said, "Nay, nay, moore'll be coming
in a bit." He looked thin and shrivelled, but had
a smack of dry arithmetical humour in him, for when we
said " How old are you?" he replied, "
I've nearly lived fourteen years of Sundays - so you can
guess." He was nearly 96 years old; that was the
meaning of his Sunday theory; and he had walked a considerable
distance that morning to church. Having been informed
that the church did not "go in" till eleven
o'clock, we wandered about the yard and met with some
gravestones of all shapes, in all positions, bearing all
kinds of inscriptions. The enumeration of ages upon them
is most precise and minute - ranges from five hours up
to almost 100 years. Nearly half of the gravestones bear
upon them the name of Caunce. That is a great name in
this district; so is the name of Alty, and that of Bridge.
There are for ever of Bridges, and Altys, and Caunces,
in Rufford and the neighbourhood; and the day may come
when everybody hereabouts will be called Caunce, or Alty,
or Bridge. We find no fault with any of the names, and
are glad to see that the owners of them pay close attention
to the good old injunction - "Be fruitful, &-c."
At the back of the church, near the steps leading to the
vestry, there is a large, rough, hard stone, bearing upon
it, in wretchedly-awkward letters, this inscription-
Hear.
Lyeth T
He : Body : of
James: Barton
Deperted: His
Life. Iune. the
24 This stone
Not to be taken
By Nobody
1703
Ann Barton 1736
On
the principle that two negatives make an affirmative,
it is quite clear that this stone should be "taken"
by "somebody." Higher up the yard there is a
headstone, in which is fixed a small brass plate, containing
this most devoted and uxorious statement :- "Could
goodness, youth, or beauty, separately or conjointly,
have preserved her invaluable life, Mary Clark, wife of
the, Rev. Thomas Clark, whose body lies interred near
this place, had not died July 7th, 1809, aged 30"
The oldest stone in the yard, which we could find, bears
the date 1623. At the southern side of the yard there
is the basement of an old stone cross, which, apparently,
has been rather massive in size. It is quite level with
the ground, and all you can see of it is the rim of the
pedestal base and the bottom of the column fitting it.
Whilst walking about in the ground, men, and women, and
youths, of the agricultural class, gradually drew up to
the church, and some of them for a few minutes moved about
in small knots, for the purpose, evidently, of reading
gravestone inscriptions, and discussing the merits, relationships,
&c., of the deceased. At the eastern end, round which
we chanced to pass, there were two women and a boy keenly
conning over, in a sort of half -gossipping, half-contemplative
style, the inscriptions upon the stones. The lad did the
reading, and the women worked out the comments and the
inferences. "Come, read on, Jem," said one of
the women, as they were standing near a particular stone.
Jem was an obedient lad, and he "read on." "Whah!"
said one of the females when he had got a few lines down
- " That's -----; he were thick thaw knows we our
Betty." And then they got into a gossip about fathers,
and grandfathers, and cousins - a mystical genealogical
disquisition which we could not understand; so we resumed
our march, and in time got to the front, observing the
very picturesque effect produced by the congregation as
they came down, in many fashioned dresses, the long walk
there. The solitary bell of the church was tinkling out
its tender monotone; the sun was shining; every bough
about was cheerful with the music of birds; fathers, and
mothers, and grandfathers, with little clusters of cherry-cheeked
children, were quietly approaching; and the organ within
the building was slowly giving out its prelusive melody.
Having cast a glance at the building, which is built of
brick, relieved at intervals by dark bands, with an elaborate
facade, surmounted at one side of the western end with
a spire, half brick, half stone, and generally constituting
a fair specimen of what in architectural language is called
"Early English Decorated" - having done this,
we put in an appearance amongst the congregation, noticing,
as we pass through the porch, a card requesting every
member of the congregation to join aloud in the responses,
and bestir themselves energetically in the "amens,"
&c. We take a seat at the bottom end of the church;
observe the devotion of the congregation, which is most
earnest and orderly; feel a peculiar solemnity, and get
very pious in thought until a lad close to us, nursing
one of his fingers in a large leather bag, lets a big
jack knife fall upon the floor. That knife upset and undid
our solemnity. He kept his shoe upon the article for ten
minutes and when we whispered to him, "Pick the critter
up," he winked one eye, and shook his head most cunningly.
The service we observed, when our nerves had got properly
re-strung, was very pleasing. The responses were intoned
with correctness, and not too loudly; the members of the
choir, who sit on each side of the chancel, sang well;
the organ, on the the right side of the chancel, gave
out good music; the sermon was serious, but clear and
steady; and the congregation, consisting of farmers, their
wives, and several tidily-dressed agricultural-looking
young men and women, with a moderate admixture of children,
was very devout. At the conclusion of the service, and
when everybody had passed by us, and done their utmost,
but without success, to find out what we wanted remaining
behind - they stared at us with a clear front, they eyed
our shoes, our topcoat, and our shirt collar, -the red-faced
lasses gave stray glances, the sun-burnt lads looked wonderingly,
the schoolmaster pricked his ears, the children whispered,
"Whah is it?" and if it we could have done it
fairly, we should have liked to have said to the whole
posse comitatus, "It isn't him." Well,
at the conclusion we quietly sauntered about the church,
and left it as we entered it with feelings of pleasure
and veneration. It consists of a nave, lofty and broad,
resting upon ten stone arches - five on each side - two
narrow side aisles, and a handsome, capacious chancel.
The pillars upon which the nave arches depend, are of
circular stone, and are surmounted by massive and beautifully
-carved capitals. Dormer windows at each side of the higher
portions of the nave throw a full clear light into the
centre of the building. The main roof is pointed, is filled
in with pitchpine, and rests upon three principals of
similar material. The church was designed by Messrs. Danson
and Davies, architects, of Liverpool, will accommodate
about 450 persons, and the average attendance at each
Sunday service, morning and afternoon, will be about 300.
The "Parishioners" number, altogether, between
700 and 800. The pews in the church are open, firm in
make, broad, with backs rather too low to be comfortable,
and have round holes cut into them at each end. We failed
to discover the utility of the holes. The chancel has
a very beautiful appearance, and almost reminds one of
a Roman Catholic sanctuary. At the end there is a magnificient
altar piece, made of Devonshire spar, or a material closely
akin to it. The reredos is elaborate in style; contains
a long white marble cross in the centre, which is flanked
with the emblematic pelican and lamb made of the same
kind of stone; and rests upon a handsome table formed
of carved cedar wood, inlaid with ebony and box wood.
Sir T. G. Fermor-Hesketh gave the reredos and Sir L. Palk
the table. Above the altar there is a fine stained three-light
window, given, according to an inscription upon two brass
shields below it, by Sir T. G. Fermor-Hesketh, in memory
of Sir T. Dalrymple Hesketh. The floor of the chancel
is of variegated tile. A large arch fronts this part of
the building; and on one side of it there is the pulpit,
a strong and exquisite piece of workmanship, made of Caen
stone, panelled with rich marbles, and the gift of Mr.
Starkie, of Huntroyd, the patron of the church: whilst
on the other side there are the reading-desk and a lectern,
the latter (of polished brass,)
being the gift of Captain Naylor, of Longton. The Bible
which is used at the lectern was the gift of the Countess
of Pomfret: and the Prayer-books, along with those used
at the Communion Service, were presented by the late Lady
Arabella Fermor-Hesketh, who was in many respects a great
friend to the church. The building is rich in stained
glass. We have mentioned the window in the chancel; in
addition there is a large stained window', at the western
end, put up by Sir W. G. Fermor-Hesketh, in memory of
his wife, who died February 28th, 1870. On the southern
side of the church there are two small double-light stained
windows, which have a very pretty appearance. One is in
memory of Kate Chappel, who died at Kurrachee, in India,
in 1869, and was put in by her brother, the Rev. J. F.
Goggin, rector of Ruford; the other is in memory of Maria
Massy Bomford, who died in 1848. On the northern side
there are two equally pretty double-light coloured windows
; the first - in memory of the Hon. Lady Brough, who died
in 1863, at the age of 87 - was put in by the late Lady
Arabella Fermor-Hesketh; the second refers to Richard
Bolton, Esq., who married the Dowager Lady Hesketh's sister,
and to his daughter Frances Jane. On the southern side
of that quarter of the church belonging the Hesketh family
- a portion about four yards broad, extending right across
the church in front of the chancel - there is a curious
old marble slab fixed in the floor; and from the lines
and indentations it has clearly at some time constituted
a memorial brass. The stone is white marble, but age and
other circumstances have turned it into a dull limestone,
colour. Upon the surface of the slab there is represented
a knight and his lady; their hands are clasped, devotionally;
and their heads rest upon a cushion. At the head of the
slab there are armorial bearings, and along the edges
of it there is a Latin inscription, the English of which
is - "O Lord have mercy on the souls of Thomas Hesketh,
esq., and Margery his wife, which Thomas died 8th October,
1363 dominical letter A. Robert, William, Margery, Thomas,
John, Hugh, William, Geoffrey, Richard, Henry [buried]'
here." There are several mural tablets in the church.
One, near the ancient slab just mentioned, refers to Sophia
Hesketh, wife of Sir Thomas Dalrymple Hesketh, who died
in 1817. The inscription is a most prolix one - about
the longest we ever saw, and for eulogy beats that put
up in Westminster Abbey to the memory of Zachary Macaulay.
It is surmounted by a figure, in relievo, of Hope, holding
an anchor. Flaxman, the celebrated sculptor, made this
tablet, and it cost, we are told, £800. To a modern
eye it does not seem worth 800 shillings. Tablets to other
members of the Hesketh family, &c., are placed in
different parts of the church. Roger Dodsworth, the antiquary,
who married a Hesketh, of Rufford, was interred in this
church, in August, 1654. Roger was a great writer, although
few but the learned know anything of him. His collected
manuscripts form 162 folio and quarto volumes, and 122
of them, in his own handwriting, are now in the Bodleian
Library, at Oxford. The font of Rufford Church is a curiosity.
It is a plainly chiselled stone basin, rests upon a thin
stone column, and is surmounted by a pointed wooden lid,
which bears around its base a very curious inscription,
in old fashioned gilt letters, very difficult to translate,
but which, we think, imply this very sensible injunction
-" Wash not thy sins from thy body only, but also
from, thy soul." The font is about 200 years old.
We must now say a word in reference to the rector - the
Rev. James F. Goggin - who is as good a looking clergyman
as we have met with. He seems to be like the gentleman
mentioned in the Psalms - has been among green pastures,
walked beside the still waters, &c. - and although
he has been invalided occasionally, his radiant features
show no signs of weakness. Mr. Goggin is a strongly-built,
muscular, ruddy-hued gentleman; straight from top to toe,
with a broad, compact head, set with military accuracy
upon a well-formed neck and pair of shoulders. He has
dark evenly arranged hair; has a full clear eye, with
both temper and dignity in it; wears whiskers weighing
perhaps altogether about the one-thirty-second part of
an ounce; is very accurate in his toilet arrangements,
and walks in boots most exquisitely clean and shiny; has
a pretty powerful voice; reads clearly; preaches earnestly;
but with the exception of a slightly swinging motion,
has very little rhetorical action in him. He is a frank
man, with a full clerical appearance; and believes in
muscular as well as gospel Christianity. He holds two
medals from the Royal Humane Society of England for saving
lives in the Atlantic. We may also remark - for we may
as well put all his honours thick upon him at once - that
he is a magistrate of the county of Lancaster. We do not
approve of clerical magistrates; still, we dare say, Mr.
Goggin will be as intelligent as any of the county justices,
and sharper than several, for not a few of them are terrible
Dogberries. He was born about the year 1840. When a boy
his ideal was to be a clergyman. At the age of ten he
went to a divinity college, and soon rode on into the
regions of Latin, Greek, and Hebrew; when 19 he entered
St. Aidan's theological college, where he passed with
distinction; then he entered the school of matrimony,
in which he is now obtaining honours. In September, 1862,
he was licensed to the curacy of St. George's, Wigan;
and on leaving that church he received a handsome present
from the congregation. In 1863 he obtained the curacy
of the Parish Church of Wigan. In nine months afterwards
he was preferred to the rectory of Luckington, in Wiltshire;
and on the 17th of September, he was presented to the
parish and rectory of Rufford, the living of which is
worth £630 per annum. On leaving Luckington he and
Mrs. Goggin, who had taken an active part in the Sunday
and day schools, had a handsome present made to them by
the congregation. He is an energetic clergyman; has worked
hard for the district; and yet has for a long time resided
out of it. There is what might be called a rectory house,
near the church, at Rufford; but it is said to be damp
and unhealthy; hence Mr. Goggin, after getting rheumatism
at it, went to live at Southport, coming over every Sunday,
and at other times when needed; and now he has taken up
his abode in Bretherton. He is, of course, anxious to
reside in his own district. Not long ago, he offered £1,000
and two acres of his glebe, situated in Mawdesley, for
two acres of land in Rufford; but he can neither purchase
nor get upon a lease property there; neither can he have
built for him, on a rent charge, a suitable residence.
Seeing that handsome hotels, reminding one more of the
era of Cyclopean masonry than rustic architecture, can
be erected not far from the church, we suppose that in
a short time the landlord of the parish will see the propriety
and utility of fitting-up a proper rectory house for it.
Provision should be made for those who retail gospel as
well as for those who sell gin in Rufford. There are two
schools in the parish (separate buildings, about 400 yards
apart), one for boys and the other for girls, and the
average attendance is about 140. But we must bid adieu
to Rufford; the Sunday afternoon train in our direction
being due. The first sight we saw after leaving the church
was what? - nobody can guess. The sight consisted of thirteen
men, walking along the canal bank, each carrying a fishing
rod! We expostulated with one man - said it was an awkward
thing to be out fishing on a Sunday afternoon; but his
reply finished us. "Nor it," said he. 'It arnt
half as bad as't paasons. They looks after th' loaves
and fishes - preaches for 'em - on Sundays; we're only
a going after th' fishes."
More
From 'Atticus' :
Hesketh-With-Becconsall
Church & Chapel
Tarleton
Church and Wesleyan Chapel
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