Newcome was not allowed to remain long in undisturbed tranquillity in his quiet parsonage. On the 3rd November, 1656, Mr. Hollinworth died; four days later a meeting of the “Classis” was held at Manchester to nominate to the vacancy. Three persons were mentioned as suitable—Mr. Meeke, of Salford; Mr. Bradshaw, of Macclesfield; and Mr. Newcome, of Gawsworth—but the feeling was so unanimous in favour of Newcome that nothing was said about the other two. Friday, December 5th, was fixed for the election; but here a difficulty occurred. Newcome had spent a Sunday at Shrewsbury as well as at Manchester. He had preached at “Alkmond’s, and the people of Julian’s” (there were no saints in Puritanical times) “set their affections” upon him while ministering in the neighbouring church, and by a curious coincidence, on the same day that he received intelligence of the arrangement at Manchester he received letters from the people of “Julian’s,” from the Mayor of Shrewsbury, and from three of its ministers, entreating him to accept their invitation. On the Sunday preceding the election at Manchester he preached in the Old Church, and, as he tells us, “the women were so pleased that they would needs send tokens,” which amounted to seven pounds. This gave great dissatisfaction to the proud Salopians, who were evidently afraid the young preacher might not be proof against the fascinations of the “Lancashire Witches,” and so they “gave him a very unhandsome lash” for being drawn away from them by “women’s favours.” Angry contentions arose, Richard Baxter was asked to interfere, and a conference was suggested, but the good folks of Shrewsbury were resolved upon securing the services of Newcome, and would not agree to arbitration, or listen to any other proposition. They were doomed, however, to disappointment, and, in opposition to the advice of Baxter, Newcome, on the 24th of December, made choice of Manchester.
His removal from Gawsworth was a sorrowful time both for himself and his rustic congregation. The sight of the wagons sent to remove his furniture overwhelmed him with sorrow, and when the time came for leaving the old rectory, he says, “I was sadly affected, and broken all to pieces at leaving the house. I never was so broken in duty as I was in that which I went into just when we were ready to go out of the house;” and he adds, “I prayed the Lord the sin of the seven years might be forgiven us, and that we might take a pardon with us.” On his arrival in Manchester he was welcomed with extraordinary manifestations of friendship and pleasure, and many of the townspeople went out to Stockport to meet him.
This “prince of preachers,” as he has been called by his friends, continued his ministrations in the Church at Manchester until the passing of the Act of Uniformity, when, unable to conform to the discipline of the Church, he withdrew from her communion, to the great grief of his people, by whom he was greatly beloved. On the passing of the Act of Toleration, at the accession of William of Orange, the wealthy Presbyterians of Manchester gathered round their favourite divine and built him a tabernacle on the site of the present Unitarian Chapel in Cross Street—the first erected for the use of the Nonconformist body in the town. He was not long permitted, however, to continue his ministrations, his death occurring on the 17th September, 1695, little more than a year after the opening of the “great and fair meeting house.”
The church in which Newcome ministered, and where rest the bones of so many of the “Fighting Fittons,” well deserves a careful examination. Let us bend our footsteps towards the ancient fane. It is a fair and goodly structure—small, it is true, but presenting a dignified and pleasing exterior—
Beauty with age in every feature blending.
The bold, free hand of the old English architect is seen in every detail—in the deep mouldings, the varied tracery, and the quaintly grotesque carvings, where burlesque and satire and playful fancy have almost run riot. The restoring hand of the modern renovator—Sir Gilbert Scott—is also visible; but what he has done has been well done, and, if we except the interesting examples of mediæval art to which reference has already been made, everything that was worth retaining has been carefully preserved. Though erected at different times, the general features harmonise and point to the conclusion that nearly the whole of the existing fabric was erected in the period extending from the end of the 14th to the middle of the 15th centuries.
The nave, which is three bays in length, is undoubtedly the oldest part, and the point at which it originally terminated is clearly shown by the diagonal projection of the angle buttress which still remains. The chancel appears to have superseded an older foundation of smaller dimensions. It is of equal width with the nave, and, in fact, a continuation of it, and both are covered in with a timber roof of obtuse pitch, with elaborately moulded and ornamented beams and rafters. The external walls of both the nave and chancel are surmounted by an embattled parapet, relieved at intervals with crocketted pinnacles, that are carried above the edge of the parapet wall as a termination to each buttress. There being no clerestory or side aisles, the windows are unusually lofty. They are of pointed character, with traceried heads and mouldings, terminating in curiously-carved corbels, that have afforded scope for the humorous fancy of the mediæval masons. On the south side is an open porch with stone seats, that has at some time or other been added to the original structure, as evidenced by the fact that the greater portion of the buttress has been cut away where it is joined up to the main wall. It has coupled lights on each side, with hood mouldings, the one on the west terminating in a curiously-carved corbel, representing a rose with two heads enclosed in the petals, an evidence that this part of the fabric must have been built shortly after the union of the rival houses of York and Lancaster, in the persons of Henry VII. and Elizabeth the eldest daughter of Edward IV. The tower is well proportioned, and, rising gracefully as it does above the surrounding foliage, forms a conspicuous object for miles around. It is remarkable for the armorial shields, 14 in number, carved in relief, in stone, on each face. These insignia are especially interesting to the antiquary and the genealogist, as showing the alliances of the earlier lords of Gawsworth. They include the coats of Fitton, Orreby, Bechton, Mainwaring, Wever, Egerton, Grosvenor, and Davenport, as well as those of Fitton of Bollin, and Fitton of Pownall, and there is one also containing the arms of Randle Blundeville, Earl of Chester, with whom the Fittons appear to have been connected.
The interior of the church is picturesque and well cared for, and the garrulous old lady who brought us the keys looks upon it with an affection that is not diminished by the serving and tending of many long years. It is an interesting specimen of an old English house of worship. As you cross the threshold a host of memories are conjured up, and you feel that you are in the sanctuary where in times past have communed, and where now rest, the remains of a line famous in chivalry, the members of which, in their day and generation, did good service to the State. The seats are low and open, and the appearance has been greatly improved by the removal of the heavy cumbrous pews with which until late years it was filled. At the east end, within the chancel rails, are the effigies and stately tombs of the Fittons already described. The shadows of centuries seem to fall on the broad nave, while the slanting rays of the westering sun, as they steal through the tall windows, brighten the elaborate figures of the knights in armour, and bring out the colouring of gown and kirtle, where their stately dames are reposing by their side. During the restorations some of them were removed from their original positions, and shorn of their original canopies, as the inscription upon a tablet affixed to the north wall testifies. Near the centre of the aisle is a plain marble slab with a brass fillet surrounding it, on which is an inscription commemorating the marriage and death of Thomas Fitton of Siddington, the second son of Sir Edward of Gawsworth, by his wife Mary, the daughter of Sir Guiscard Harbottle.
After our brief survey we passed out through the western door into the churchyard. The sun was circling westwards over the woods, a warm haze suffused the landscape, and the shadows were lengthening over the hillocks and grass-grown mounds in the quiet graveyard. As our cicerone turned the key in the rusty wards of the lock and turned to depart, a robin poured out its wealth of song in the neighbouring copse, a fitting requiem to the expiring day. We stood for a moment looking through the trees at the picturesque old parsonage. What a lovely spot!—the spot of all others that a country clergyman might delight to pass his days in. Well might good Henry Newcome be “sadly affected and broken all to pieces” at leaving it.