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If the apostrophes,\nquotation marks and greek text [{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA WITH PSILI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER PI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER LAMDA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER UPSILON WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER RHO~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMEGA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER SIGMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER FINAL SIGMA~}] in this paragraph\nappear as garbage, you may have an incompatible browser or\nunavailable fonts. First, make sure that your browser's \"character\nset\" or \"file encoding\" is set to Unicode (UTF-8). You may also\nneed to change the default font.\n\n\n\n\n STONES OF THE TEMPLE\n\n\n\n\n R I V I N G T O N S\n\n\n London _Waterloo Place_\n\n Oxford _High Street_\n\n Cambridge _Trinity Street_\n\n\nIllustration: STONES OF THE TEMPLE\n\n\n\n STONES OF THE TEMPLE or\n\n Lessons from the fabric and furniture of the Church\n\n By WALTER FIELD, M.A., F.S.A.\n\n\n RIVINGTONS London, Oxford, and Cambridge 1871\n\n\n\n\n\"When it pleased God to raise up kings and emperors favouring sincerely\n the Christian truth, that which the Church before either could not or\n durst not do, was with all alacrity performed. Temples were in\n all places erected, no cost was spared: nothing judged too\n dear which that way should be spent. The whole world did\n seem to exult, that it had occasion of pouring out gifts\n to so blessed a purpose. That cheerful devotion which\n David did this way exceedingly delight to behold,\n and wish that the same in the Jewish people\n might be perpetual, was then in Christian\n people every where to be seen.\n So far as our Churches and their\n Temple have one end, what\n should let but that they\n may lawfully have one\n form?\"--Hooker's\n \"Ecclesiastical\n Polity.\"\n {~MALTESE CROSS~}\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\n PREFACE.\n _Chap._ _Page_\n\n I. THE LICH-GATE 1\n\n II. LICH-STONES 11\n\n III. GRAVE-STONES 19\n\n IV. GRAVE-STONES 31\n\n V. THE PORCH 43\n\n VI. THE PORCH 51\n\n VII. THE PAVEMENT 63\n\n VIII. THE PAVEMENT 73\n\n IX. THE PAVEMENT 81\n\n X. THE PAVEMENT 91\n\n XI. THE WALLS 103\n\n XII. THE WALLS 111\n\n XIII. THE WINDOWS 123\n\n XIV. A LOOSE STONE IN THE BUILDING 145\n\n XV. THE FONT 155\n\n XVI. THE PULPIT 167\n\n XVII. THE PULPIT 175\n\n XVIII. THE NAVE 187\n\n XIX. THE NAVE 197\n\n XX. THE AISLES 209\n\n XXI. THE TRANSEPTS 217\n\n XXII. THE CHANCEL-SCREEN 225\n\n XXIII. THE CHANCEL 235\n\n XXIV. THE ALTAR 245\n\n XXV. THE ORGAN-CHAMBER 255\n\n XXVI. THE VESTRY 265\n\n XXVII. THE PILLARS 275\n\n XXVIII. THE ROOF 285\n\n XXIX. THE TOWER 295\n\n XXX. THE HOUSE NOT MADE WITH HANDS 311\n\n\n\n\nINDEX OF ENGRAVINGS\n\n _Page_\n\n St. Mildred's Church and Lich-Gate, Whippingham 3\n\n Lich-Gate at Yealmton 5\n\n Lich-Gate at Birstal 7\n\n Heywood Church, Manchester 13\n\n Lich-Stone, Great Winnow, Cornwall 15\n\n Lich-Stone at Lustleigh 18\n\n Church of St. Nicholas, West Pennard 21\n\n Grave-Stones in Streatham Churchyard 23\n\n Grave-Stones in High-Week Churchyard 24\n\n Easter Flowers 28\n\n Stinchcombe Church 33\n\n Grave-Stones 35, 39, 41\n\n Llanfechan Church 42\n\n Godmersham Church 45\n\n Porch of Luebeck Cathedral 53\n\n Porch and Parvise of St. Mary's Church, Finedon 55\n\n Parvise, Westbury-on-Trim 60\n\n Church of SS. Philip and James, Oxford 65\n\n Brass of John Bloxham and John Whytton in Merton College, Oxford 67\n\n Heywood Church 75\n\n Brass of Henry Sever, at Merton College, Oxford 77\n\n Chancel of Whippingham Church 83\n\n Brass of Sir Roger de Trumpington 85\n\n Church of St. John the Baptist, Kidmore End 93\n\n Encaustic Tiles, Brooke Church 95, 97\n\n St. Andrew's Church, Halstead 105\n\n Ancient Wall Paintings in Kimpton Church 108, 109\n\n St. Michael's Church, Gloucester 113\n\n Ancient Wall Painting in Bedford Church 118\n\n Wall Painting 121\n\n Church of St. John, Brandenburg 125\n\n Doorway, St. Stephen's Church, Tangermuende 127\n\n Crowmarsh Church 131\n\n Stained Glass Windows in Great Malvern Church 137, 139, 141\n\n Rose Window, Cremona Cathedral 143\n\n Amberley Church, in ruin, and restored 147\n\n Ancient Font in West Rounton Church 157\n\n Stone Pulpit in Dartmouth Church 169\n\n Church of St. Mary, Henley-on-Thames 177\n\n Stone Pulpit in North Kilworth Church 179\n\n St. Mary's Church, Sherborne 189\n\n All Saints' Church, Bradford 199\n\n Castle Cary Church 211\n\n Church of SS. Peter and Paul, Ringwood 219\n\n Church of St. John, Walworth 227\n\n Sutton Benger Church 237\n\n Llanfaenor Church 243\n\n St. Alban's Church, Holborn 247\n\n Icklesham Church 257\n\n Harpsden Church 267\n\n Church of St. John, Highbridge 277\n\n Keynsham Church 287\n\n Clerestory Window 294\n\n Meopham Church 297\n\n Tower, Saragosa 303\n\n Window, Church of St. Petronius, Bologna 309\n\n\n\n\n \"Who is able to build Him an house, seeing the heaven and heaven of\n heavens cannot contain Him? who am I then, that I should build\n Him an house, save only to burn sacrifice before Him?\n \"Send me now therefore a man cunning to work in gold, and\n in silver, and in brass, and in iron, and in purple, and\n crimson, and blue, and that can skill to grave with the\n cunning men that are with me in Judah and in Jerusalem,\n whom David my father did provide. Send\n me also cedar-trees, fir-trees, and algum-trees,\n out of Lebanon: for I know that thy servants\n can skill to cut timber in Lebanon;\n and, behold, my servants shall be\n with thy servants, even to prepare\n me timber in abundance:\n for the house which\n I am about to build\n shall be great and\n wonderful.\"--\n 2 Chron. ii.\n 6--9.\n {~MALTESE CROSS~}\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE\n\n\nThe following chapters are an attempt to explain in very simple language\nthe history and use of those parts of the Church's fabric with which\nmost persons are familiar.\n\nThey are not written with a view to assist the student of Ecclesiastical\nArt and Architecture--for which purpose the works of many learned\nwriters are available--but simply to inform those who, from having paid\nlittle attention to such pursuits, or from early prejudice, may have\nmisconceived the origin and design of much that is beautiful and\ninstructive in God's House.\n\nThe spiritual and the material fabric are placed side by side, and the\nseveral offices and ceremonies of the Church as they are specially\nconnected with the different parts of the building are briefly noticed.\n\nSome of the subjects referred to may appear trifling and unimportant;\nthose, however, among them which seem to be the most trivial have in\nsome parishes given rise to long and serious disputations.\n\nThe unpretending narrative, which serves to embody the several subjects\ntreated of, has the single merit of being composed of little incidents\ntaken from real life.\n\nThe first sixteen chapters were printed some years since in the _Church\nBuilder_.\n\nThe writer is greatly indebted to the Committee of the Incorporated\nChurch Building Society for the use of most of the woodcuts which\nillustrate the volume.\n\n W. F.\n\n GODMERSHAM VICARAGE,\n _Michaelmas_, 1871.\n\n\n\n\n_CHAPTER I_\n\nTHE LICH-GATE\n\n\n\"These words which I command thee; thou shalt write them on thy gates.\"\n\nDeut. vi. 6, 9.\n\n \"Who says the Widow's heart must break,\n The Childless Mother sink?--\n A kinder, truer Voice I hear,\n Which even beside that mournful bier\n Whence Parent's eyes would hopeless shrink,\n\n \"Bids weep no more--O heart bereft,\n How strange, to thee, that sound!\n A Widow o'er her only Son,\n Feeling more bitterly alone\n For friends that press officious round.\n\n \"Yet is the Voice of comfort heard,\n For Christ hath touch'd the bier--\n The bearers wait with wondering eye,\n The swelling bosom dares not sigh,\n But all is still, 'twixt hope and fear.\n\n \"Even such an awful soothing calm\n We sometimes see alight\n On Christian mourners, while they wait\n In silence, by some Churchyard gate,\n Their summons to the holy rite.\"\n\n _Christian Year._\n\nIllustration: St. Mildred's Church and Lich-Gate, Whippingham\n\n\n\n\nTHE LICH-GATE\n\n\nIllustration: Lich-Gate at Yealmton\n\n\"Any port in a storm, Mr. Ambrose,\" said old Matthew\nHutchison, as with tired feet, and scant breath, he hastened to share\nthe shelter which Mr. Ambrose, the Vicar of the Parish, had found under\nthe ancient and time-worn Lich-gate of St. Catherine's Churchyard. For a\nfew big drops of rain that fell pattering on the leaves around, had\nwarned them both to seek protection from a coming shower. \"Ah, yes, my\nold friend,\" the Vicar replied, \"and here we are pretty near the port to\nwhich we must all come, when the storm of life itself is past.\"\n\n\"I've known this place,--man and boy,--Mr. Ambrose, for near eighty\nyears; and on yonder bit of a hill, under that broken thorn, I sit for\nhours every day watching my sheep; but my eye often wanders across here,\nand then the thought takes me just as you've said it, sir. Ah! it can't\nbe long before Old Matthew will need some younger limbs than these to\nbring him through the churchyard gate;--that's what the old walls always\nseem to say to me;--but God's will be done.\" And as the old Shepherd\nreverently lifted his broad hat, his few white hairs, stirred by the\nrising gale, seemed to confirm the truth of his words.\n\n\"Well, Matthew, I am glad you have learnt, what many are slow to learn,\nthat there are 'Sermons in stones,' as well as in books. Every stone in\nGod's House, and in God's Acre--as our Churchyards used to be\ncalled,--may teach us some useful lesson, if we will but stop to read\nit.\"\n\n\"Please, sir, I should like to know why they call the gate at the new\nchurchyard over the hill, a _lich_-gate;--these new names puzzle a poor\nman like me[1].\"\n\n\"The name is better known in some parts of the country than it is here;\nbut it is no new name, I assure you, for in the time of the Saxons, more\nthan thirteen hundred years ago, it was in common use; but I will tell\nyou all about this, and some other matters connected with the place\nwhere we now stand.\"\n\n\"I shall take it very kind if you will, sir, for you know we poor people\ndon't know much about these things.\"\n\n\"Very often quite as much as many who are richer, Matthew,--but here\ncomes our young squire, anxious like ourselves to keep a dry coat on his\nback; so I shall now be telling my story to rich and poor together, and\nI hope make it plain to both.\" After a few words of friendly greeting\nbetween Mr. Acres and himself, the three sat down on the stone seats of\nthe Lich-Gate, and he at once proceeded to answer the old Shepherd's\nquestion. \"The word _Lich_[2],\" he said, \"means a _Corpse_, and so\n_Lich-Gate_ means a Corpse-gate, or gate through which the dead body is\nborne; and that path up which you came just now, Matthew, used formerly\nto be called the _Lich-path_[3], because all the funerals came along\nthat way. In some parts of Scotland is still kept up the custom of\n_Lyke-wake_ (_Lich-wake_), or watching beside the dead body before its\nburial[4]. The pale sickly-looking moss, which lives best where all else\nis dead or dying, we call _lichen_. Then you know the _Lich-owl_ is so\ncalled because some people are silly enough to think that its screech\nforetells death. And I must just say something about this word _lich_ in\nthe name of a certain city; it is _Lichfield_. Now _lich-field_ plainly\nmeans the field of the dead: and where that city now stands is said to\nhave been the burial-place of many Christian Martyrs, who were slain\nthere about the year 290. You will remember, Mr. Acres, that the Arms of\nthe City exhibit this field of the dead, on which lie three slaughtered\nmen, each having on his head, as is supposed, a martyr's crown. Now,\nMatthew, I think I have fully replied to your question; but I should\nlike to say something more about the use and the history of these\nLich-Gates.\"\n\nIllustration: Lich-Gate at Birstal\n\n\"Will you kindly tell us,\" said Mr. Acres, \"how it is that there are so\nfew remaining, and that of these there are probably very few indeed so\nmuch as four centuries old[5].\"\n\n\"I think the reason is, that at first they were almost entirely made of\nwood, and therefore were subject to early decay--certainly they must at\none time have been far more general than at present. The rubrical\ndirection at the beginning of the Burial Office in our Prayer Book seems\nto imply some such provision at the churchyard entrance. It is there\nsaid 'the Priest and Clerks' are to 'meet the Corpse _at the entrance of\nthe Churchyard_.' But in this old Prayer Book of mine, printed in the\nyear 1549, you see the Priest is directed to meet the corpse at the\n'Church-stile,' or Lich-Gate. Now as in olden times the corpse was\nalways borne to its burial by the friends or neighbours of the deceased,\nand they had often far to travel, their time of reaching the Churchyard\nmust have been very uncertain, and this uncertainty no doubt frequently\ncaused delay when they had arrived, therefore it was desirable both to\nhave a place of shelter on a rainy day, and of rest when the way was\nlong. Hence I suppose it is, that the older Lich-Gates are to be found,\nfor the most part, in widespread parishes and mountainous districts;\nthey are most common in the Counties of Devon and Cornwall, and in\nWales[6]. But even where the necessity of the case no longer exists, the\nLich-Gate, adorned, as it ever should be, with some holy text or pious\nprecept, is most appropriate as an ornament, and expressive as a symbol.\nIts presence should always be associated in our minds with thoughts of\ndeath, and life beyond it. It should remind us that though we must ere\nlong 'go to the gates of the grave,' yet that it is 'through the grave\nand gate of death' that we must 'pass to our joyful resurrection.' It\nis here the Comforter of Bethany so often speaks, through the voice of\nHis Church, to His sorrowing brethren in the world:--'I am the\nresurrection and the life: he that believeth in Me, though he were dead,\nyet shall he live[7].\"\n\n\"Ah! sir,\" said the shepherd, \"many's the poor heart-bowed mourner\nthat's been comforted here with those words! They always remind me of\nJesus saying to the widow of Nain, 'Weep not,' when he stopped the bier\non which was her only son, and the bearers, and all the mourners, at the\ngate of the city.\"\n\n\"Yes! and all this makes us look on the old Lich-Gate as no gloomy\nobject, but rather as a 'Beautiful Gate of the Temple' which is\neternal,--a glorious arch of hope and triumph, hung all round with\ntrophies of Christian victory. But I see the rain is over, and the sun\nis shining! so good-bye, Mr. Acres, we two shepherds must not stay\nlonger from our respective flocks:--old Matthew's is spread over the\nmountains, mine is folded in the village below.\" The old shepherd soon\ntook his accustomed seat under the weather-beaten thorn, the Vicar was\nsoon deep in the troubles of a poor parishioner, and the young Squire\nwent to the village by another way.\n\n\n\n\n_CHAPTER II_\n\nLICH-STONES\n\n\n\"Man goeth to his long home, and the mourners go about the streets.\"\n\nEccles. xii. 5.\n\n \"Say, was it to my spirit's gain or loss,\n One bright and balmy morning, as I went\n From Liege's lovely environs to Ghent,\n If hard by the wayside I found a cross,\n That made me breathe a prayer upon the spot--\n While Nature of herself, as if to trace\n The emblem's use, had trail'd around its base\n The blue significant Forget-me-not?\n Methought, the claims of Charity to urge\n More forcibly, along with Faith and Hope,\n The pious choice had pitch'd upon the verge\n Of a delicious slope,\n Giving the eye much variegated scope;--\n 'Look round,' it whisper'd, 'on that prospect rare,\n Those vales so verdant, and those hills so blue;\n Enjoy the sunny world, so fresh and fair,\n But'--(how the simple legend pierced me thro'!)\n 'Priez pour les Malheureux.'\"\n\n _T. Hood._\n\nIllustration: Heywood Church, Manchester\n\n\nLICH-STONES\n\n\nIllustration: Lich-Stone, Great Winnow, Cornwall\n\n\"Good morning, Mr. Acres, and a happy Easter-Tide to you. This is indeed\na bright Easter sun to shine on our beautiful Lich-Gate at its\nre-opening. I little thought on what good errand you were bent when last\nwe parted at this spot. Hardly however had I reached my door when\nWilliam Hardy came with great glee to tell me you had engaged his\nservices for the work. May God reward you, sir, for the honour you have\nshown for His Church.\"\n\n\"And an old man's blessing be upon you, sir, if you will let Old Matthew\nsay so; for the Church-gate is dearer to me than my own, seeing it has\nclosed upon my beloved partner, and the dear child God gave us, and my\nown poor wicket shuts on no one else but me now.\"\n\n\"Thank you heartily, honest Matthew, and you too, sir,\" replied the\nsquire, giving to each the hand of friendship; \"I am rejoiced that what\nhas been done pleases you so well. The restored Gate is in every respect\nlike the original one, even to the simple little cross on the top of\nit. I have added nothing but the sentence from our Burial Office,\n'Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord,' which you see over the\narch, and which I hope will bring comfort to some, and hope to all who\nread it. But the work would never have been done by me, Mr. Vicar, had\nyou not so interested Matthew and myself in these Lich-Gates when last\nwe met. And so, as you see, your good words have not been altogether\nlost, I hope you will kindly to-day continue the subject of our last\nconversation.\"\n\n\"Most gladly will I do so; and as I have already spoken of the general\npurpose and utility of these Lich-Gates, I will now say a little about\ntheir construction and arrangement.\n\n\"Their most common form, as you know, is a simple shed composed of a\nroof with two gable ends, covered either with tiles or thatch, and\nsupported on strong timbers well braced together. But they are\nfrequently built of stone, and in the manner of their construction they\ngreatly vary. At Burnsall there is a curious arrangement for opening and\nclosing the gate. The stone pier on the north side has a well-hole, in\nwhich the weight that closes the gate works up and down. An upright\nswivel post or 'heart-tree,' (as the people there call it,) stands in\nthe centre, and through this pass the three rails of the gate; an iron\nbent lever is fixed to the top of this post, which is connected by a\nchain and guide-pulley to the weight, so that when any one passes\nthrough, both ends of the gate open in opposite directions. The Gate at\nRostherne churchyard, in Cheshire, is on a similar plan. At\nBerry-harbour is a Lich-Gate in the form of a cross. At only one place,\nI believe,--Troutbeck, in Westmoreland,--are there to be found three\nstone Lich-Gates in one churchyard. Some of these gates have chambers\nover them, as at Bray[8], in Berkshire, and Barking[9], in Essex. At\nTawstock there is a small room on either side of the gate, having seats\non three sides and a table in the centre. It seems that in this, as in\nsome other cases, provision is made either for the distribution of\nalms, or for the rest and refreshment of funeral attendants. It was\nonce a common custom at funerals in some parts, especially in\nScotland[10], to hold a feast at the Church-gate and these feasts\nsometimes led to great excesses: happily they are now discontinued, but\nthe custom may help to point out the purpose for which these Lich-Gate\nrooms were sometimes erected. In Cornwall it is not customary to bear\nthe corpse on the shoulders, but to carry the coffin, under-handed, by\nwhite cloths passed beneath and through the handles[11] and this partly\nexplains the peculiar arrangement for resting the corpse at the entrance\nto the churchyard, common, even now, in that county, and which is called\nthe _Lich-Stone_. The Lich-Stone is often found without any building\nattached to it, and frequently without even a gate. The Stone is either\noblong with the ends of equal width, or it is the shape of the ancient\ncoffins, narrower at one end than the other, but without any bend at the\nshoulder. It is placed in the centre, having stone seats on either side,\non which the bearers rest whilst the coffin remains on the Lich-Stone.\nWhen there is no gate, the churchyard is protected from the intrusion of\ncattle by this simple contrivance:--long pieces of moor-stone, or\ngranite, are laid across, with a space of about three inches between\neach, and being rounded on the top any animal has the greatest\ndifficulty in walking over them, indeed a quadruped seldom attempts to\ncross them.\n\n\"Lich-Stones are,--though very rarely,--to be found at a distance from\nthe churchyard; in this case, doubtless, they are intended as rests for\nthe coffin on its way to burial.\n\n\"At Lustleigh, in Devonshire, is an octagonal Lich-Stone called Bishop's\nStone, having engraved upon it the arms of Bishop Cotton[12]. It seems\nnot unlikely that the several beautiful crosses erected by King Edward\nI. at the different stages where the corpse of his queen, Eleanor[13],\nrested on its way from Herdeby in Lincolnshire to Westminster, were\nbuilt over the Lich-Stone on which her coffin was placed. And now, my\nkind listeners, I think I have told you all I know about Lich-Stones.\"\n\nIllustration: Lich-Stone at Lustleigh\n\n\"These simple memorials of Church architecture are very touching,\"\nreplied Mr. Acres, as he rose to depart; \"and the Lich-Stone deserves a\nrecord before modern habits and improvements sweep them away. They have\na direct meaning, and surely might be more generally adopted in\nconnexion with the Lich-Gate, now gradually re-appearing in many of our\nrural parishes, as the fitting entrance to the churchyard.\"\n\n\n\n\n_CHAPTER III_\n\nGRAVE-STONES\n\n\n\"When I am dead, then bury me in the sepulchre wherein the man of God is\nburied; lay my bones beside his bones.\"\n\n1 Kings xiii. 31.\n\n \"I've seen\n The labourer returning from his toil,\n Here stay his steps, and call the children round,\n And slowly spell the rudely sculptured rhymes,\n And in his rustic manner, moralize.\n We mark'd with what a silent awe he'd spoken,\n With head uncover'd, his respectful manner,\n And all the honours which he paid the grave.\"\n\n _H. Kirke White._\n\n \"I like that ancient Saxon phrase, which calls\n The burial-ground God's acre! It is just;\n It consecrates each grave within its walls,\n And breathes a benison o'er the sleeping dust.\n\n \"Into its furrows shall we all be cast,\n In the sure faith that we shall rise again\n At the great harvest, when the archangel's blast\n Shall winnow, like a fan, the chaff and grain.\n\n \"With thy rude ploughshare, Death, turn up the sod,\n And spread the furrow for the seed we sow;\n This is the field and acre of our God:\n This is the place where human harvests grow.\"\n\n _Longfellow._\n\nIllustration: Church of St. Nicholas, West Pennard\n\n\n\n\nGRAVE-STONES\n\n\nIllustration: Grave-Stones in Streatham Churchyard\n\n\"And so, Matthew, the old sexton's little daughter is to\nbe buried to-day. What a calm peaceful day it is for her funeral! The\nday itself seems to have put on the same quiet happy smile that Lizzie\nDaniels always carried about with her, before she had that painful\nlingering sickness, which she bore with a meekness and patience I hardly\never saw equalled. And then it is Easter Day too, the very day one would\nchoose for the burial of a good Christian child. All our services to-day\nwill tell us that this little maid, and all those who lie around us here\nso still beneath their green mounds, are not dead but sleeping, and as\nour Saviour rose from the grave on Easter Day, so will they all awake\nand rise up again when God shall call them. I see the little grave is\ndug under the old yew-tree, near to that of your own dear ones. Lizzie\nwas a great favourite of yours, was she not, Matthew?\"\n\n\"Ah, she was the brightest little star in my sky, I can tell you, sir;\nand I shall miss her sadly. She brought me my dinner, every day for near\ntwo years, up to the old thorn there, and then she would sit down on the\ngrass before me, and read from her Prayer Book some of the Psalms for\nthe day; and when she had done, and I had kissed and thanked her, she\nused to go trotting home again, with, I believe, the brightest little\nface and the lightest little heart in England. Well, sir, it's sorry\nwork, you know, for a man to dig the grave for his own child, and so I\nasked John Daniels to let me dig Lizzie's grave: but it has been indeed\nhard work for me, for I think I've shed more tears in that grave than I\never shed out of it. But the grave is all ready now, and little Lizzie\nwill soon be there; and then, sir, I should like to put up a stone, for\nI shall often come here to think about the dear child. Poor little\nLizzie! she seemed like a sort of good angel to me,--children do seem\nlike that sometimes, don't they, sir? Perhaps, Mr. Ambrose, you would be\nso good as to tell Robert Atkinson what sort of stone you would like him\nto put up.\"\n\n\"Certainly I will; and I think nothing would be so suitable as a simple\nlittle stone cross, with Lizzie's name on the base of it. And as she is\nto be buried on Easter Day, I should like to add the words, 'In Christ\nshall all be made alive.'\"\n\n\"Thank you, sir; that will do very nicely. I'm only thinking, may be,\nthat wicked boy of Mr. Dole's, at the shop, will come some night and\nbreak the cross, as he did the one Mr. Hunter put up over his little\nboy. But I think that was more the sin of the father than of the son,\nfor I'm told the old gentleman's very angry with you, sir, 'cause he\ncouldn't put what he call's a 'handsome monument' over his father's\ngrave; and he says, too, he's going to law about it.\"\n\nIllustration: Grave-Stones in High-Week Churchyard\n\n\"Ah, he'll be wiser not to do that, Matthew. The churchyard is the\nparson's freehold, and he has the power to prevent the erection of any\nstone there of which he disapproves; and I, for one, don't mean to give\nup this power. 'Tis true that every one of my parishioners has a right\nto be buried in this churchyard, nor could I refuse this if I would; but\nthen, if I am to protect this right of my parishioners, as it is my duty\nto do, and to preserve my churchyard from disfigurement and desecration,\nI must take care that the ground is not occupied by such great ugly\nmonuments as Mr. Dole wishes to build[14]. Why I hear he bought that\nlarge urn[15] which was taken down from Mr. Acres' park gates, to put on\nthe top of the tomb. And then I suppose he would like to have the sides\ncovered with skulls and crossbones, and shovels and mattocks, and fat\ncrying cherubs, besides the usual heathen devices, such as inverted\ntorches and spent hour-glasses; all which fitly enough mark an infidel's\nburial-place, but not a Christian's. For you see, my friend, that _none\nof these things represent any Christian truth_; the best are but emblems\nof mortality; some are the symbols of oblivion and despair, and others\nbut mimic a heathen custom long gone by. The stones of the churchyard\nought themselves to tell the sanctity of the place, and that it is a\nChristian's rest[16]. The letters we carve on them will hardly be read\nby our children's children. The lines on that stone there tell no more\nthan is true of all the Epitaphs around us:\n\n 'The record some fond hand hath traced,\n To mark thy burial spot,\n The lichen will have soon effaced,\n To write thy doom--Forgot.'\n\nBut even then, if the symbol of our redemption is there, 'the very\nstones will cry out,' and though time-worn and moss-grown, will declare\nthat it is a _Christian's_ burial-place. If, then, as Christian men and\nwomen 'we sorrow not as others without hope,' let us not cover our\nmonuments with every symbol of despair, or with heathen devices, but as\nwe are not ashamed of the doctrine, so neither let us be ashamed of the\nsymbol of the cross of Christ. Besides, if we wish to preserve our\ngraves from desecration, this form of stone is the most likely to do so;\nfor in spite of outrages like young Dole's, which have been sometimes\ncommitted, we continually find that such memorials have been respected\nand preserved when others have been removed and employed for common\nuses. Why, Matthew, I've seen hundreds of grave-stones converted into\nfire-hearths, door-steps, pavements, and such like, but I never saw a\nmonument on which was graven the Christian symbol so desecrated; and I\nbelieve such a thing has hardly ever been seen by any one.\"\n\n\"Well, Mr. Ambrose, I should like there to be no doubt about little\nLizzie's being a Christian's grave. I was thinking, too, to have a neat\niron railing round the stone, sir.\"\n\n\"I would advise you not to have it, Matthew; for the grave will be\nprettier without it. Besides, it gives an idea of separateness, which\none does not like in a place where all distinctions are done away with;\nand, moreover, the iron would soon rust, and then the railing would\nbecome very untidy.\"\n\n\"Yes, to be sure it would; I was forgetting that I shan't be here to\nkeep it nicely painted:--but see, sir, here come the children from the\nvillage with their Easter flowers. I dare say little Mary Acres will\ngive me some for Lizzie's grave.\"\n\n\"Ah, I like that good old custom of placing flowers and wreaths on\nChristian graves at Easter, and other special seasons[17]. It is the\nsimple way in which these little ones both show their respect for\ndeparted friends, and express their belief in the resurrection of the\ndead. I would say of it, as Wordsworth wrote of the Funeral Chant:--\n\n 'Many precious rites\n And customs of our rural ancestry\n Are gone, or stealing from us; this, I hope,\n Will last for ever.'\n\nBut you remember the time, Matthew, when there were very different\nscenes from this, at Easter, in St. Catherine's churchyard. If I mistake\nnot, you will recollect when the Easter fair used to be kept here.\"\n\nIllustration: Easter Flowers\n\n\"That I do, sir, too well. There was always a Sunday fight in the\nchurchyard, and the people used to come from Walesborough and for miles\nround to see it. It's just forty years ago to-day poor Bill Thirlsby was\nkilled in a fight, as it might be, just where I'm now standing[18].\nBut, thank God, that day's gone by.\"\n\n\"And, I trust, never to come back again. But have you heard, Matthew,\nthat some great enemies of the Church are trying to spoil the peace and\nsacredness of our churchyards in another way? They want to bring in all\nkinds of preachers to perform all sorts of funeral services in them; and\nif they gain their ends, our long-hallowed churchyards, where as yet\nthere has only been heard the solemn beautiful Burial Service of our own\nChurch, may be desecrated by the clamour of ignorant fanaticism, the\ncontinual janglings of religious discord, or perhaps, the open blasphemy\nof godless men.\"\n\n\"What! then I suppose we should have first a service from Master Scoff,\nthe bill-sticker and Mormon preacher, and next from Master Scole, the\nBaptist preacher, then from Father La Trappe, the Roman Catholic\nminister, and then, perhaps, sir, it might be your turn. Why, sir,\n'twould be almost like going back to the Easter fair.\"\n\n\"Well, my friend, in one respect it would be worse; for it would be\ndiscord all the year round. But I trust God will frustrate these wicked\ndesigns of our Church's foes. Long, long may it be ere the sanctity of\nour churchyards is thus invaded.\"\n\n\"Amen, say I to that, sir, with all my heart.\"\n\n\"And, thanks be to God, Matthew, that Amen of yours is now re-echoing\nloudly throughout the length and breadth of England.\"\n\n\n\n\n_CHAPTER IV_\n\nGRAVE-STONES\n\n\n\"And he said, What title is that that I see? and the men of the city\ntold him, It is the sepulchre of the man of God.\"\n\n2 Kings xiii. 17.\n\n \"I never can see a Churchyard old,\n With its mossy stones and mounds,\n And green trees weeping the unforgot\n That rest in its hallow'd bounds;\n I never can see the old churchyard,\n But I breathe to God a prayer,\n That, sleep as I may in this fever'd life,\n I may rest, when I slumber, there.\n\n \"Our Mother the Church hath never a child\n To honour before the rest,\n But she singeth the same for mighty kings,\n And the veriest babe on her breast;\n And the bishop goes down to his narrow bed\n As the ploughman's child is laid,\n And alike she blesseth the dark brow'd serf,\n And the chief in his robe array'd.\n\n \"And ever the bells in the green churchyard\n Are tolling to tell you this:--\n Go pray in the church, while pray ye can,\n That so ye may sleep in bliss.\"\n\n _Christian Ballads._\n\n \"It is an awful thing to stand\n With either world on either hand,\n Upon the intermediate ground\n Which doth the sense and spirit bound.\n Woe worth the man who doth not fear\n When spirits of the dead are near.\"\n\n _The Baptistery._\n\nIllustration: Stinchcombe Church\n\n\n\n\nGRAVE-STONES\n\n\nA golden haze in the eastern sky told that the sun which had set in all\nhis glory an hour before was now giving a bright Easter Day to\nChristians in other lands. The evening service was ended, and a joyful\npeal had just rung out from the tower of St. Catherine's,--for such was\nthe custom there on all the great festivals of the Church,--the low hum\nof voices which lately rose from a group of villagers gathered near the\nchurchyard gate was hushed; there was a pause of perfect stillness; and\nthen the old tenor began its deep, solemn tolling for the burial of a\nlittle child. The Vicar and his friend Mr. Acres, who had been walking\nslowly to and fro on the churchyard path, stopped suddenly on hearing\nthe first single beat of the burial knell, and at the same instant they\nsaw, far down the village lane, the flickering light of the two torches\nborne by those who headed the little procession of Lizzie's funeral.\nThey, too, seemed to have caught the spell, and stood mutely\ncontemplating the scene before them. At length Mr. Acres broke silence\nby saying, \"I know of but few Parishes where, like our own, the funerals\nof the poor take place by torch-light; it is, to say the least, a very\npicturesque custom.\"\n\nIllustration: Grave Stones\n\n\"It is, indeed,\" replied Mr. Ambrose, \"I believe, however, the poor in\nthis place first adopted it from no such sentiment, but simply as being\nmore convenient both to themselves and to their employers. Their\nemployers often cannot spare them earlier in the day, and they\nthemselves can but ill afford to lose a day's wages. But these evening\nfunerals have other advantages. They enable many more of the friends of\nthe departed to show this last tribute of respect to their memory than\ncould otherwise do so; and were this practice more general, we should\nhave fewer of those melancholy funerals where the hired bearers are the\nsole attendants. Then, if properly conducted, they save the poor much\nexpense at a time when they are little able to afford it. I find that\ntheir poor neighbours will, at evening, give their services as bearers,\nfree of cost, which they cannot afford to do earlier in the day. The\nfamily of the deceased, too, are freed from the necessity of taxing\ntheir scanty means in order to supply a day's hospitality to their\nvisitors, who now do not assemble till after their day's labour, and\nimmediately after the funeral retire to their own homes, and to rest. I\nam sorry to say, however, this was not always so. When I first came to\nthe Parish, the evening was too often followed by a night of\ndissipation. But since I have induced the people to do away with hired\nbearers, and enter into an engagement to do this service one for\nanother, free of charge, and simply as a _Christian duty_, those evils\nhave never recurred. I once preached a sermon to them from the text,\n'Devout men carried Stephen to his burial' (Acts viii. 2), in which I\nendeavoured to show them that none but men of good and honest report\nshould be selected for this solemn office; and I am thankful to say,\nfrom that time all has been decent and orderly. When it is the funeral\nof one of our own school-children, the coffin is always carried by some\nof the school-teachers; I need hardly say this is simply an act of\nChristian charity. Moreover, this custom greatly diminishes the number\nof our Sunday burials, which are otherwise almost a necessity among the\npoor[19]. The Sunday, as a great Christian Festival, is not appropriate\nfor a public ceremony of so mournful a character as that of the burial\nof the dead; there is, too, this additional objection to Sunday burials:\nthat they create _Sunday labour_. But, considering the subject\ngenerally, I confess a preference for these evening funerals. To me they\nseem less gloomy, though more solemn, than those which take place in the\nbroad light of day. When the house has been closed, and the chamber of\ndeath darkened for several days (to omit which simple acts would be like\nan insult to the departed), it seems both consonant with this custom\nwhich we have universally adopted, and following the course of our\nnatural feelings, to avoid--in performing the last solemn rite--the full\nblaze of midday light. There is something in the noiseless going away of\ndaylight suggestive of the still departure of human life; and in the\ngathering shades of evening, in harmony with one's thoughts of the grave\nas the place of the _sleeping_, and not of the _dead_. The hour itself\ninvites serious thought. When a little boy, I once attended a midnight\nfuneral; and the event left an impression on my mind which I believe\nwill never be altogether effaced. I would not, however, recommend\nmidnight funerals, except on very special occasions; and I must freely\nadmit that under many circumstances evening funerals would not be\npracticable.\"\n\n\"I see,\" said Mr. Acres, \"that the system here adopted obviates many\nevils which exist in the prevailing mode of Christian burial, but it\nhardly meets the case of large towns, especially when the burial must\ntake place in a distant cemetery. Don't you think we want reform there,\neven more, perhaps, than in these rural parishes?\"\n\n\"Yes, certainly, my friend, I do; and I regret to say I see, moreover,\nmany difficulties that beset our efforts to accomplish it. Still\nsomething should be done. We all agree, it is much to be deplored that,\nowing to the necessity for extramural burial, the connexion between the\nparishioner and his parish church is, with very rare exceptions,\nentirely severed in the last office which the Clergy and his friends can\nrender him, and the solemn Service of the Burial of the Dead is said in\na strange place, by a stranger's voice. Now this we can at least partly\nremedy. I would always have the bodies of the departed brought to the\nparish church previous to their removal to the cemetery; and the funeral\nknell should be tolled, as formerly, to invite their friends and\nneighbours to be present, and take part in so much of the service as\nneed not be said at the grave. It would then be no longer true, as now\nit is, that in many of our churches this touching and beautiful Service\nhas never been said, and by many of the parishioners has never been\nheard. Then let the bearers be men of good and sober character. How\nrevolting to one's sense of decency is the spectacle, so common in\nLondon, of hired attendants, wearing funeral robes and hat-bands[20],\ndrinking at gin-palaces, whilst the hearse and mourning coaches are\ndrawn up outside! Then I would have the furniture of the funeral less\nsuggestive of _sorrow without hope_; and specially I would have the\ncoffin less gloomy,--I might in many cases say, less _hideous_: let it\nbe of plain wood, or, if covered, let its covering be of less gloomy\ncharacter, and without the trashy and unmeaning ornaments with which\nundertakers are used to bestud it. As regards our cemeteries, I suppose\nin most of them the Burial Service is said in all its integrity, but in\nsome it is sadly mutilated. 'No fittings, sir, and a third-class grave,'\nsaid the attendant of a large cemetery the other day to a friend of\nmine, who had gone there to bury a poor parishioner; which in simple\nEnglish was this:--'The man was too poor to have any other than a\n_common grave_, so you must not read all the Service; and his friends\nare too poor to give a hat-band, so you must not wear a hood and stole.'\nMy friend did not of course comply with the intimation.\"\n\nIllustration: Grave-Stones\n\n\"Well, Mr. Vicar, I hope we may see the improvements you have suggested\ncarried out, and then such an abuse as that will not recur. Much indeed\nhas already been done in this direction, and for this we must be\nthankful.\"\n\n\"Yes, and side by side with that, I rejoice to see an increasing\nimprovement in the character of our tombstones and epitaphs.\"\n\n\"Ah, sir, there was need enough, I am sure, for that. How shocking are\nmany of the inscriptions we find on even modern tombstones! To 'lie like\nan epitaph' has long been a proverb, and I fear a just one. What a host\nof false witnesses we have even here around us in this burial-ground!\nThere lies John Wilk, who was--I suppose--as free from care and sickness\nto his dying hour as any man that ever lived; yet his grave-stone tells\nthe old story:--\n\n 'Afflictions sore long time I bore,\n Physicians was in vain.'\n\nAnd beyond his stands the stone of that old scold Margery Torbeck, who,\nyou know, sir, was the terror of the whole village; and of her we are\ntold:--\n\n 'A tender wife, a mother dear,\n A faithful friend, lies buried here.'\n\nI often think, Mr. Ambrose, when walking through a churchyard, if people\nwere only half as good when living, as when dead they are said to have\nbeen, what a happy world this would be; so full of 'the best of\nhusbands,' 'the most devoted of wives,' 'the most dutiful of sons,' and\n'the most amiable of daughters.' One is often reminded of the little\nchild's inquiry--'Mamma, where are all the _wicked_ people buried?' But\ndid you ever notice that vain and foolish inscription under the north\nwall to the 'perpetual' memory of 'Isaac Donman, Esq.'? Poor man! I\nwonder whether his friends thought the 'Esq.' would _perpetuate_ his\nmemory. I wish it could be obliterated.\"\n\n\"I have told John Daniels to plant some ivy at the base of the stone,\nand I hope the words will be hidden by it before the summer is over. I\nfind this the most convenient mode of concealing objectionable epitaphs.\nBut is it not an instance of strange perversity, that where all earthly\ndistinctions are swept away, and men of all degrees are brought to one\ncommon level, people will delight to inscribe these boastful and\nexaggerated praises of the departed, and so often claim for them virtues\nwhich in reality they never possessed? What can be more out of place\nhere than pride? As regards the frail body on which is often bestowed so\nmuch vain eulogy, what truer words are there than these?--\n\n 'How loved, how valued once, avails thee not;\n To whom related, or by whom begot:\n A heap of dust alone remains of thee,\n 'Tis all thou art, 'tis all the proud shall be.'\n\nThese kind of epitaphs, too, are so very unfair to the deceased. We who\nknew old Mrs. Ainstie, who lies under that grand tombstone, knew her to\nbe a good, kind neighbour; but posterity will not believe that, when\nposterity reads in her epitaph that 'she was a spotless woman.' It is\nbetter to say too little than too much; since our Bibles tell us that,\neven _when we have done all, we are unprofitable servants_. There are\nother foolish epitaphs which are the result of ignorance, not of pride.\nFor instance, poor old Mrs. Beck, whose son is buried in yonder corner\n(it is too dark now to see the stone), sent me these lines for her son's\ngrave-stone:--\n\n 'Here lies John Beck, aged 19 years,\n Father and mother, wipe away your tears.'\n\nI persuaded her instead to have this sentence from the Creed:--'I\nbelieve in the communion of Saints.' When I explained to her the meaning\nof the words, she was grateful that I had suggested them.\n\nIllustration: Grave-Stones\n\nThe two things specially to be avoided in these memorials are flattery\nand falsehood; and, moreover, we should always remember that neither\ngrave-stone nor epitaph can benefit the _dead_, but that both may\nbenefit the _living_. Therefore a short sentence from the Bible or\nPrayer Book, expressive of hope beyond the grave, is always appropriate;\nsuch as:--'I look for the resurrection of the dead, and the life of the\nworld to come;' or words which either may represent the dying prayer of\nthe deceased, or express a suitable petition for ourselves when thus\nreminded of our own approaching departure, such as: 'Jesus, mercy,' or\n'God be merciful to me a sinner,' or 'In the hour of death, good Lord,\ndeliver us.' How much better is some simple sentence like these than a\nfulsome epitaph! But the funeral is nearly at the gate; so I must hasten\nto meet it.\"\n\n\"And I will say good evening,\" said Mr. Acres, \"as I may not see you\nafter the service; and I thank you for drawing my attention to a subject\non which I had before thought too little.\"\n\nMr. Ambrose met the funeral at the lich-gate. First came the two\ntorch-bearers, then the coffin, borne by six school-teachers; then John\nand Mary Daniels, followed by their two surviving children; then came\nold Matthew, and after him several of little Lizzie's old friends and\nneighbours. Each attendant carried a small sprig of evergreen[21], or\nsome spring flowers, and, as the coffin was being lowered, placed them\non it. Many tears of sadness fell down into that narrow grave, but none\ntold deeper love than those of the old Shepherd, who lingered\nsorrowfully behind to close in the grave of his little friend.\n\nIllustration: Llanfechan Church\n\n\n\n\n_CHAPTER V_\n\nTHE PORCH\n\n\n\"Keep thy foot when thou goest to the house of God.\"\n\nEccles. v. 1.\n\n \"When once thy foot enters the church, be bare.\n God is more there than thou: for thou art there\n Only by His permission. Then beware\n And make thyself all reverence and fear.\n Kneeling ne'er spoilt silk stockings: quit thy state,\n All equal are within the Church's gate.\n\n \"Let vain or busy thoughts have there no part:\n Bring not thy plough, thy plots, thy pleasures thither.\n Christ purged His temple; so must thou thy heart.\n All worldly thoughts are but thieves met together\n To cozen thee. Look to thy actions well;\n For churches either are our heaven or hell.\"\n\n _George Herbert._\n\n \"One place there is--beneath the burial sod,\n Where all mankind are equalized by death:\n Another place there is--the Fane of God,\n Where all are equal who draw living breath.\"\n\n _Thomas Hood._\n\nIllustration: Godmersham Church\n\n\n\n\nTHE PORCH\n\n\nMr. Ambrose only remained in the churchyard a few moments after little\nLizzie's funeral, just to say some kind words to the bereaved parents\nand the attendant mourners, and then hastened to comply with the urgent\nrequest of a messenger, that he would without delay accompany him to the\nhouse of a parishioner living in a distant part of the Parish.\n\nIt was more than an hour ere the Vicar began to retrace his steps. His\nnearest way to the village lay through the churchyard, along the path he\nhad lately traversed in earnest conversation with Mr. Acres. He paused a\nmoment at the gate, to listen for the sound of Matthew's spade; but the\nold man had completed his task, and all was still. He then entered, and\nturned aside to look at the quiet little grave. A grassy mound now\nmarked the spot, and it was evident that no little care had been\nbestowed to make it so neat and tidy.\n\nMr. Ambrose was slowly walking on, musing on the patient sufferings of\nhis little friend, now gone to her rest, when just as he approached the\nbeautiful old porch of the church his train of thought was suddenly\ndisturbed by hearing what seemed to him the low, deep sobbing of\nexcessive grief. The night was not so dark but that he could see\ndistinctly within the porch, and he anxiously endeavoured to discover\nwhether the sound had proceeded from any one who had taken shelter there\nfor the night; but the place was evidently tenant less. \"It must have\nbeen only the hum of a passing breeze, which my fancy has converted into\na human voice,\" thought he, \"for assuredly no such restless sobs as\nthose ever escape from the deep sleepers around me here.\" And so the\nidea was soon banished and forgotten. But as he stood there, his gaze\nbecame, almost unconsciously, fixed upon the old church porch. The dim\nlight resting upon it threw the rich carvings of its graceful arches,\nand deep-groined roof, with its massive bosses of sculptured stone, into\nall sorts of fantastic forms, and a strange mystery seemed to hang about\nthe solemn pile, which completely riveted his attention to it, and led\nhim into the following reverie:--\"Ah, thou art indeed a 'beautiful gate\nof the temple'! Well and piously did our ancestors in bestowing so much\nwealth and labour to make thy walls so fair and lovely. And well ever\nhave they done in crowding these noble porches with the sacred emblems\nof our holy faith. Rightly have they deemed that the very highest\nefforts of human art could not be misapplied in adorning the threshold\nof God's House, so that, ere men entered therein, their minds might be\nattuned to the solemnity of the place[22]. All praise, too, to those\nhonest craftsmen who cemented these old stones so well together that\nthey have stood the storms of centuries, and still remain the unlettered\nthough faithful memorials of ages long gone by. Ah, how many scenes my\nimagination calls up as I look on this old porch! Hundreds of years ago\nmost of the sacred offices of our Church were there in part performed.\nNow, I think I see the gay bridal party standing in that dusky\nportal[23]; there comes the Priest to join the hands of the young and\nhappy pair; he pronounces over them the Church's blessing; and the\nbridegroom endows with her bridal portion her whom he has sworn to love\ntill one shall die. A thousand brides and bridegrooms, full of bright\nhopes of happy years, have been married in that porch. Centuries ago\nthey grew old and died, and were buried in this churchyard, but the old\nporch still remains in all its beauty and all its strength. There,\nkneeling upon that well-worn pavement, I see the mother pour forth her\nthankfulness to God for her deliverance from sickness, and for the babe\nshe bears[24]. And now, still beneath that porch, she gives her tender\ninfant into the arms of God's priest, that he may present it to Him in\nholy Baptism. In yon dark corner I seem to see standing the notorious\nbreaker of God's commands; his head is bent down with shame, and he is\nclothed in the robe of penance[25]. Now the scene is changed: the old\nwalls resound with the voices of noisy disputants--it is a parish\nmeeting[26], and passions long since hushed find there a clamorous\nexpression; but there stands the stately form of the peace-maker, and\nthe noisy tongue of the village orator is heard no more. Yes, rise up,\nSir Knight, who, with thy hands close clasped as if in ceaseless prayer,\nhast lain upon that stony couch for five long centuries, and let thy\nmanly step be heard beneath that aged roof once more; for, though a\nwarrior, thou wast a good and peace-loving man, and a devout worshipper\nin this temple, or, I trust, thy burial-place would never have been in\nthis old porch[27].\"\n\nThe eyes of the Vicar were fixed upon the recumbent effigy of an old\nknight lying beneath its stone canopy on the western side of the porch\n(of which, however, only a dim outline was visible), when the same sound\nthat had before startled him was repeated, followed by what seemed the\ndeep utterance of earnest prayer, but so far off as to be but faintly\nheard. He stood in motionless attention for a short time, and then the\nvoice ceased. He then saw a flickering light on one of the farthest\nwindows of the chancel; slowly it passed from window to window, till it\nreached that nearest to the spot where he was standing. Then there was a\nnarrow line of light in the centre of the doorway; gradually it widened,\nand there stood before him the venerable form of the old shepherd.\n\n\n\n\n_CHAPTER VI_\n\nTHE PORCH\n\n\n\"Enter into His gates with thanksgiving, and into His courts with\npraise.\"\n\nPs. c. 4.\n\n \"Why should we grudge the hour and house of prayer\n To Christ's own blind and lame,\n Who come to meet Him there?\n Better, be sure, His altar-flame\n Should glow in one dim wavering spark,\n Than quite lie down, and leave His Temple drear and dark.\n\n \"What if the world our two or three despise\n They in His name are here,\n To whom in suppliant guise\n Of old the blind and lame drew near,\n Beside His royal courts they wait,\n And ask His healing Hand: we dare not close the gate.\"\n\n _Lyra Innocentium._\n\nIllustration: Porch of Luebeck Cathedral\n\n\n\n\nTHE PORCH\n\n\nIllustration: Porch and Parvise of St. Mary's Church, Finedon\n\n\"The Vicar's first impulse, on recovering from his\nsurprise at so unexpectedly meeting with the old Shepherd in such a\nplace, at such an hour, was, if possible, to escape unnoticed, and to\nleave the churchyard without suffering him to know what he had heard and\nseen; but at that instant the light fell full upon him, and concealment\nwas impossible.\n\n\"You'll be surprised, Mr. Ambrose,\" said the old man, \"at finding me in\nthe church at this late time. But it has, I assure you, been a great\ncomfort for me to be here.\"\n\n\"My good friend,\" replied the Vicar, \"I know you have been making good\nuse of God's House, and I only wish there were more disposed to do the\nlike. I rejoice to hear you have found consolation, for to-day has been\none of heavy sorrow to you, and you needed that _peace which the world\ncannot give_. How often it is that _we cannot understand these trials\nuntil we go into the House of the Lord_, and then God makes it all plain\nto us.\"\n\n\"I've learnt that to-night, sir, as I never learnt it before. When I\nhad put the last bit of turf on the little grave, and knew that all\nmy work was over, there was such a desolate, lonely-like feeling\ncame over me, that I thought my old heart must break; and then, all\nof a sudden, it got into my head that I would come into the church.\nBut it was more dull and lonesome there than ever. It was so awful\nand quiet, I became quite fearful and cowed, quite like a child, you\nknow, sir. When I stood still, I hardly dared look round for fear I\nshould see _something_ in the darkness under the old grey arches,\nand when I moved, the very noise of my footsteps, which seemed to\nsound in every corner, frightened me. However, I took courage, and\nwent on. Then I opened this Prayer Book, and the first words I saw\nwere these in the Baptismal Service:--'_Whosoever shall not receive\nthe Kingdom of God as a little child, he shall not enter therein._'\nSo I knelt down at the altar rails and prayed, as I think I never\nprayed before, that I might in my old age become as good as the\nlittle maid I had just buried, and be as fit to die as I really\nbelieve she was. Then I said those prayers you see marked in the\nbook, sir (she put the marks), and at last I came to those beautiful\nwords in the Communion Service (there is a cross put to them, and I\nfelt sure she meant me particularly to notice them):--'_We bless and\npraise Thy holy Name for all Thy servants departed this life in Thy\nfaith and fear._' I stood up, and said that over and over again; and\nas I did so, somehow all my fear and lonesomeness went away, and I\nwas quite happy. It was _this_ that made me so happy: I felt sure,\nsir, quite sure, that my poor dear wife and our child and little\nLizzie were close to me. I could not see nor hear them, but for all\nthat I was somehow quite certain that they were there rejoicing with\nme, and praising God for all the good people He had taken to\nHimself. Oh! I shall never forget this night, sir; the thought of it\nwill always make me happy. You will never see me again so cast down\nas I have been lately.\"\n\n\"Well, Matthew, you cannot at least be wrong in allowing what you have\nfelt and believed to fix more firmly in your faith the Church's glorious\ndoctrine of the _communion of saints_.\"\n\nFor some time each stood following out in his own mind the train of\nthought which these words suggested. Matthew was the first to break\nsilence, by begging the Vicar kindly to go with him into the room above\nwhere they were standing, as he wished there to ask a favour of him.\n\nMatthew returned into the church to find the key of the chamber, and Mr.\nAmbrose at once recognized the volume which he had left on the stone\nseat of the porch, as that from which Lizzie was used to read when she\nsat beside the old Shepherd on the neighbouring hill. He took it up,\nand, opening it at the Burial Office, he found there a little curl of\nlovely fair hair marking the place. The page was still wet--it was the\ndew of evening, gentle tears of love and sorrow shed by one whose night\nwas calmly and peacefully coming on.\n\nThe old man soon returned with the key, and, bearing the lantern, led\nthe way up a narrow, winding stone staircase, formed in the masonry of a\nlarge buttress, to the little chamber. As soon as they had reached it,\nhe said, \"Before I beg my favour, Mr. Ambrose, I should much like you to\ntell me something about this old room. Ever since I was a boy it has\nbeen a sort of lumber-room, but I suppose it was not built for that?\"\n\n\"Well, Matthew, there is not much here to throw light upon the history\nof this particular chamber; but I will tell you what I can about such\nplaces generally. The room is most commonly, but not correctly, called\nthe _parvise_[28]. The word _parvise_, or _paradise_, properly only\napplies to an open court adjoining a church, and surrounded by\ncloisters; but in olden times a room in a private house was sometimes\ncalled a paradise[29], and hence, I suppose, the name came to be used\nfor the porch-room of the church. It was also called the _priest's\nchamber_[30]; and such, I think, was the room in which we now are. You\nsee it is provided with a nice little fire-place[31], and it is a\ncomfortable little place to live in. Sometimes it was called the\n_treasury_[32], or record-room, because the parish records and church\nbooks were kept in it; or the _library_[33], from its being appropriated\nfor the reception of a church or parochial library. There are many of\nthese chambers furnished with valuable libraries which have been\nbequeathed from time to time for this purpose. It is also evident, from\nthe remains of an altar and furniture connected with it, that not\ninfrequently it was built for a _chapel_[34]. Occasionally it has been\nused as the _parish school_[35]; and I have heard that in some of the\neastern counties poor people have occasionally, in cases of extreme\ndistress, claimed sanctuary or refuge, both in the porch and parvise,\nand lived there undisturbed for some weeks together. But latterly, in\nmany places, the parish clerk or sexton has been located in the parvise,\nthat he may watch the churchyard and protect the church[36]; and I am\ninclined to think this is a much more sensible thing to do, than to\ngive up the room to the owls and bats, as is very often the case now,\nbut even that is better than to use it as it has sometimes been used--as\na common prison[37].\"\n\n\"I am glad to hear you say that, sir, for it makes the way for me to ask\nmy favour. John Daniels wants to give up the place of sexton; and as I\nam getting too old now to walk far, and to take care of the sheep as I\nused to do, I'm going to make so bold as to ask you to let me be sexton\nin his stead, and to live in this little room, if you please, sir. I\ncould then keep the key of the church, and it would be always at hand\nwhen wanted: I should be near to ring the bell for morning and evening\nprayer; I could watch the churchyard, and see that no one breaks the\ncross on Lizzie's grave--I shall be able to see it from this window. And\nthen, sir, if you will have this little window opened again into the\nchurch[38], why I can keep guard over the church too; and that's rather\nnecessary just now, for several churches about us have been robbed\nlately. Besides all this, the room is much more warm and comfortable\nthan mine in the village, and I shall enjoy the quiet of it so much.\"\n\n\"Most glad, Matthew, shall I be to see the office of sexton in such good\nhands. You will not yourself be equal to all the work, but you will\nalways be able to find a younger hand when you need one. And then, with\nregard to your living here, it's just the thing I should like, for,\napart from other reasons, it would enable me to have the church doors\nalways open to those who would resort thither for prayer or meditation.\nIt is a sad thing for people to be deprived of such religious\nretirement. I almost wish that the church porch could be made without a\nchurch door altogether, as it used to be[39], and then the church would\nbe always open. But, my friend, have you considered how gloomy, and\nlonely, and unprotected this place will be?\"\n\nIllustration: Parvise, Westbury-on-Trim\n\n\"You mus'n't say _gloomy_, if you please, sir; I trust and believe my\ngloomy days are past; and lonely I shall not be: you remember my poor\ndaughter's little boy that was taken out to Australia by his father\n(ah! his name almost _does_ make me gloomy--but, God forgive him!)--he\nis coming home next week to live with me. He is now seven years old; I\nhear he is a quiet, old-fashioned boy. He will be a nice companion for\nme, and I hope you will let him help in the church; but we can speak of\nthat again. Then for protection, sir, you must let my fond old dog be\nwith me at nights; the faithful fellow would die of grief were we\naltogether parted. Come, sir, it's an old man's wish, I hope you'll\ngrant it.\" This last sentence was said as they were returning down the\nlittle winding staircase back to the porch.\n\n\"It shall be as you wish; next week the room shall be ready for you. And\nas I have granted all the requests you have made, you must grant me one\nin return. You must let me furnish the room for you. No, I shall not\nlisten to any objections; this time _I_ must have _my_ way. Good\nnight.\"\n\n\n\n\n_CHAPTER VII_\n\nTHE PAVEMENT\n\n\n\"The place whereon thou standest is holy ground.\"\n\nExod. iii. 5.\n\n\n\n \"Mark you the floor? that square and speckled stone,\n Which looks so firm and strong,\n Is _Patience_;\n\n \"And the other black and grave, wherein each one\n Is checker'd all along,\n _Humility_;\n\n \"The gentle rising, which on either hand\n Leads to the quire above,\n Is _Confidence_;\n\n \"But the sweet cement, which in one sure band\n Ties the whole frame, is _Love_\n And _Charity_.\"\n\n GEORGE HERBERT.\n\n\nIllustration: Church of SS. Philip and James, Oxford\n\n\n\n\nTHE PAVEMENT\n\n\nIllustration: Brass of John Bloxham and John Whytton in Merton College,\nOxford\n\n\"Why, my dear Constance,\" said Mr. Acres, as one morning\nhe found the eldest of his three children sitting gloomy and solitary at\nthe breakfast-room window, \"you look as though all the cares of the\nnation were pressing upon you! Come, tell me a few of them; unless,\"\nadded he, laughingly, \"my little queen thinks there is danger to the\nState in communicating matters of such weighty import.\"\n\n\"Oh, don't make fun of me, dear Papa! I have only one trouble just now,\nand you will think that a very little one; but you know you often say\nlittle troubles seem great to little people.\"\n\n\"Then we must have the bright little face back again at once, if, after\nall, it is only one small care that troubles it,\" said he, kissing her\naffectionately. \"But now, my darling, let me know all about it.\"\n\n\"Well, Papa, I think it's too bad of Mary to go up to the church again\nto-day to help Ernest to take more rubbing's of those dull, stupid old\nbrasses. I don't care any thing about them, and I think it's nonsense\nspending so much time over them as they do. I wish Mr. Ambrose would not\nlet them go into the church any more, and then Mary would not leave me\nalone like this.\"\n\n\"That's not a very kind wish, Constance, as they both seem so much\ninterested in their work; but I dare say this is the last day they will\ngive to it. Suppose we go this afternoon to look after them: we can then\nask Ernest to bring home all the copies he has taken, and when Mr.\nAmbrose comes in by-and-by, perhaps he will tell us something about\nthem; and who knows but your unconsciously offending enemies may turn\nout to be neither dull nor stupid, after all?\"\n\nThe proposal was gladly accepted, and at four o'clock they were enjoying\ntheir pleasant walk up to St. Catherine's Church.\n\nAs they entered the church Mr. Acres heard, to his surprise, the clear\nring of Mary's happy laugh. She was standing in the south aisle, beside\nthe paper on which she had been vainly attempting to copy a monumental\nbrass. Seeing her father approach with a serious and somewhat reproving\ncountenance, she at once guessed the cause, and anticipated the\nreprimand he was about to utter. \"You must not be angry with me, Papa,\"\nshe said, in a very subdued tone, \"for indeed I could not help laughing,\nthough I know it is very wrong to laugh in church; but, you know, I had\njust finished my rubbing of the brass here, and thought I had done it so\nwell, when all of a sudden the paper slipped, and the consequence was\nthat my poor knight had two faces instead of one; and he looked so queer\nthat I could not help laughing at him very much.\"\n\n\"No doubt, my dear child,\" said her father, \"there was something in your\nmisfortune to provoke a laugh, but I think you must have forgotten for a\nmoment the sacredness of this place, when you gave vent to the merry\nshout I heard just now. You should always remember that in God's house\nyou are standing on _holy ground_, and though it may be permissible for\nus to go there for the purpose of copying those works of art, which in\ntheir richest beauty are rightly dedicated to God and His service, and\nthese curious monuments which you and Ernest have been tracing, yet we\nshould ever bear with us a deep sense of the sanctity of the building as\nthe 'place where His honour dwelleth,' and avoid whatever may give\noccasion to levity; or should the feeling force itself upon us, we\nought, by a strong effort, to resist it.\"\n\nAlthough the words were spoken in a kind and gentle voice, many tears\nhad already fallen upon Mary's spoilt tracing, so her father said no\nmore on the subject; but, taking her hand, led her quietly away to a\nchapel at the north-east corner of the church, round which was placed a\nbeautifully carved open screen. It was the burial-place of the family\nthat formerly tenanted the Hall, and there were many brass figures and\ninscriptions laid in the floor to their memory. Here, attentively\nwatched by old Matthew the sexton, Ernest was busily engaged tracing the\nfigure of a knight in armour, represented as standing under a handsome\ncanopy. He had already completed his copy of the canopy, and of the\ninscription round the stone, and was now engaged at the figure. Two\nsheets of paper were spread over the stone, and he had guarded against\nMary's accident by placing on the paper several large kneeling hassocks,\nwhich were used by the old people. He was himself half reclining on a\nlong cushion laid on the pavement, and having before marked out with his\nfinger on the paper the outlines of the brass underneath it, was now\nrubbing away vigorously with his heel-ball[40], and at every stroke a\nlittle bit more of the knight came out upon the paper, till, like a\nlarge black drawing, the complete figure appeared before them. They had\nall watched Ernest's labours with the greatest interest, and, this being\nthe last, they assisted in rolling up the papers, that they might be\ntaken home for more careful examination in the evening.\n\n\"I wish Master Ernest could take a picture of good old Sir John, as we\ncall him, Mr. Acres,\" said Matthew; \"I mean him as lies in the chancel,\nright in front of the altar; but he's cut out in the flat stone, and not\nin the metal, so I suppose Master Ernest can't do it. I remember the\ntime, sir, when people as were sick and diseased used to come for miles\nround to lie upon that stone, and they believed it made them much\nbetter[41]; and if they believed it, I dare say it did, sir. And 'tisn't\nbut a very few years back when it would have been thought very unlucky\nindeed if a corpse had not rested over good Sir John all night before\nits burial. We still place the coffins just in the same place at the\nfunerals, but of course nobody any longer believes that good Sir John\ncan do good or ill to those inside them.\"\n\n\"I must bring some stronger paper than that I use for the brasses, to\ncopy the stone figure, Matthew,\" said Ernest; \"so that must be done\nanother day.\"\n\nAll said good-bye to the old sexton, and as he wended his way up the\nnarrow stone stairs to his little chamber, Mr. Acres and his family\nreturned to Oakfield Hall.\n\nThe dining-room was soon decorated with the trophies of Ernest's four\ndays' labour, and other rubbing's which he had before taken; and when\nMr. Ambrose arrived he was met by several eager petitioners, praying him\nto give some explanation of the strange-looking black and white figures\nthat hung upon the walls.\n\n\"It would take me a whole day to tell you all that might be said about\nthem,\" said he; \"but I shall be very glad to give you a short\ndescription of each, and I will follow the course which Ernest has\nevidently intended me to adopt, for I see he has arranged all the\nbishops and priests together, and the knights, the civilians, and the\nladies, each class by itself. But first I must tell you something of the\ngeneral history of these brass memorials. There are an immense number of\nthem in this country--it is supposed about 4000--and they are chiefly to\nbe found in Norfolk, Suffolk, Essex, and Kent; but indeed there are\ncomparatively few old churches in England in which you cannot find upon\nthe pavement some traces of these interesting memorials. Though,\nhowever, so many remain, probably not less than 20,000 have been either\nstolen or lost. You will see on the pavement at St. Catherine's, marks\nof the force which has been used in tearing many from the stones in\nwhich they had been firmly fixed.\"\n\n\"But who could have been so fearless and wicked as to take them away?\"\nexclaimed Constance, who already had begun to feel a real interest in\nthe subject.\n\n\"Alas! Constance, that question is easily answered. There was indeed a\ntime, long ago, when people would not have _dared_ to commit these acts\nof sacrilege. You know among the ancient Romans there was a belief that\nthe manes or spirits of the departed protected their tombs, and so\npersons were afraid to rob them; but people since then have been\ndeterred by no such fear, indeed by no fear at all. Within the period\nbetween 1536 and 1540 somewhere about 900 religious houses were\ndestroyed, and their chapels were dismantled and robbed of their tombs,\non which were a great number of brasses. And this spirit of sacrilege\nextended beyond the monasteries, for at this time, and afterwards, very\nmany of our parish churches were also despoiled of their monumental\nbrasses; indeed the evil spread so much that Queen Elizabeth issued a\nspecial proclamation for putting a stop to it. The greatest destruction\nof brasses, however, took place a hundred years after this, when\nthousands were removed from the cathedrals and churches to satisfy the\nrapacity or the fanaticism of the Puritan Dissenters, who were then in\npower[42]. In later times, I am sorry to say, large numbers have been\nsold by churchwardens, for the just value of the metal, and many have\nbeen removed during the restoration of churches and have not been\nrestored; of course, those whose special duty it was to protect them\nhave been greatly to blame for this. Then not a few have become loose,\nand been lost through mere carelessness. Some of the most beautiful\nbrasses in our church I discovered a few years since under a heap of\nrubbish in the wood-house of Daniels, the former sexton[43]. So you see\nit is no wonder we find so many of those curiously-indented slabs in the\npavement of our churches, which mark the places where brasses have\nformerly been.\n\nA few of these memorials are to be found in Wales, Ireland, and\nScotland. Some also exist in France, Germany, Russia, Prussia, Poland,\nSwitzerland, Holland, Denmark, and Sweden. In these countries, however,\nthey have never been numerous.\n\nBut now I must say a few words about their origin. The oldest memorials\nof the dead to be found in our churches are the stone coffin-lids, with\nplain or floriated crosses carved upon them. The stone coffins were\nburied just below the level of the pavement, so their lids were even\nwith the floor of the church. Afterwards, similar crosses were graven on\nslabs of stone above the coffin; then the faces of the deceased were\nrepresented; and at length whole figures, and many other devices, were\ncarved on the stone, and around the stone was sometimes an inscription\nconsisting of letters of _brass_ separately inlaid. Then the figures and\ninscriptions were either altogether made of brass, or were partly graven\nin stone and partly in brass; specimens of both, I see, Ernest has\nprovided for us. The earliest of these incised slabs are probably of the\nninth century, but the faces of the deceased were not carved on them\ntill about 1050. The earliest brass of which we have any account is that\nof Simon de Beauchamp, 1208; and the most ancient brass figure now\nremaining is that of Sir John Daubernoun, 1277.\n\n\"The form of the brass has evidently been often suggested by the stone\nand marble effigies we see on altar-tombs. For we find that not only the\ncostume and position of the figures are closely copied, but also the\ncanopies above them, the cushions or helmets on which their heads rest,\nand the lions, dogs, or other animals on which the feet are placed. I\nhave something more to say on the subject generally, before I come to\nspeak particularly about Ernest's copies; so after the general interval\nof ten minutes I will resume the subject.\n\n\n\n\n_CHAPTER VIII_\n\nTHE PAVEMENT\n\n\n\"They bowed themselves with their faces to the ground upon the pavement,\nand worshipped, and praised the Lord, saying, For He is good, for His\nmercy endureth for ever.\"\n\n2 Chron. vii. 3.\n\n\n \"This is the abode where God doth dwell,\n This is the gate of Heaven,\n The shrine of the Invisible,\n The Priest, the Victim given.\n\n \"O holy seat, O holy fane,\n Where dwells the Omnipotent!\n Whom the broad world cannot contain,\n Nor Heaven's high firmament.\n\n \"Here, where the unearthly Guest descends\n To hearts of Innocence,\n And sacred love her wing extends\n Of holiest influence;\n\n \"Let no unhallow'd thought be here,\n Within that sacred door;\n Let nought polluted dare draw near,\n Nor tread the awful floor;\n Or, lo! the Avenger is at hand,\n And at the door doth stand.\"\n\n _The Child's Christian Year._\n\n\nIllustration: Heywood Church\n\n\n\n\nTHE PAVEMENT\n\n\nIllustration: Brass of Henry Sever, at Merton College, Oxford\n\nAs soon as the short pause was over, all ears were open\nto learn something more on a subject which had been hitherto entirely\nwithout interest to most of the Vicar's little audience.\n\n\"We find sometimes upon the pavement of our churches,\" said Mr. Ambrose,\n\"memorials just like those I have spoken to you about, except that they\nare made of _iron_ or _lead_ instead of brass, but they are\ncomparatively very rare, and, except in the metal of which they are\ncomposed, differ nothing from the _brasses_.\n\n\"Sepulchral brasses must have been a great ornament to our churches\nbefore they were despoiled of their beauty by the hand of Time, and the\nstill less sparing hand of man. The vivid colours of the enamel with\nwhich they were inlaid, and the silvery brightness of the yet\nuntarnished lead which was employed to represent the ermine and other\nparts of official costume, must have added greatly to the splendour of\nthese monuments. At first they were no doubt very costly, for there\nappear to have been but few places where they were made in this\ncountry, and, in addition to the cost of the brasses themselves, the\nexpense of their carriage in those times must have been considerable. A\ngreat many of these monuments, however, are of foreign manufacture, and\nwere chiefly imported from Flanders. It is easy to distinguish between\nthe English and the Flemish brasses, for whereas the former are composed\nof separate pieces of metal laid in different parts of the stone, and\ngiving the distinct outline of the figure, canopy, inscription, &c., the\nlatter are composed of several plates of brass placed closely together\nand engraved all over with figures, canopies, and other designs. The\nlater English brasses are, however, very similar to the Flemish. You see\nthat little copy of a brass about three feet long by one foot deep which\nErnest has somehow obtained from the church at Walton-on-Thames? Now\nthat is a square piece of metal just like those they made in Flanders,\nbut it was evidently engraved in England. It is dated 1587, and is in\nmemory of John Selwyn, keeper of Queen Elizabeth's park at Oatlands,\nnear Walton. It represents, as you see, a stag hunt, and is said to\nrefer to this incident:--'The old keeper, in the heat of the chase,\nsuddenly leaped from his horse upon the back of the stag (both running\nat that time with their utmost speed), and not only kept his seat\ngracefully, in spite of every effort of the affrighted beast, but,\ndrawing his sword, with it guided him to wards the Queen, and coming\nnear her presence, plunged it in his throat, so that the animal fell\ndead at her feet[44].'\"\n\n\"But, my friend,\" said Mr. Acres, \"it seems to me that the record of\nsuch an event, even if it ever happened--which I must take the liberty\nto doubt--is quite as objectionable as any of those epitaphs in our\nchurchyard which you once so strongly and justly condemned.\"\n\n\"I quite agree with you. But this was made at a time when sepulchral\nmonuments were frequently of a very debased character. At this period\nthe brasses underwent a great change. They began to rise from their\nhumble position on the pavement, and the figures were occasionally made\nwithout their devotional posture, which up to this date had been almost\nuniversal. They were then placed on the church walls, on tablets, or on\nthe top and at the back of altar-tombs, and this led the way for the\nerection of a large number of monuments in stone of similar design, but\nmore cumbrous and inconvenient. Inferior workmen also were evidently\nemployed at this time to engrave the brasses, and they became more and\nmore debased, till they reached the lowest point of all, a hundred years\nago, and soon after their manufacture altogether ceased. It was near the\ntime when this brass was put up to the old park-keeper, that that ugly\nmonument in memory of Sir John York, with its four heathen obelisks, and\nits four disconsolate Cupids, was put up in our chancel, covering so\nmuch of the floor as to deprive at least twenty persons of their right\nto a place in God's House. About this time, too, that uncomfortable\nlooking effigy of Lady Lancaster was put upon its massive altar-tomb. To\njudge from the position of her Ladyship, and hundreds of other similar\nmonuments, represented as reclining and resting the face upon the hand,\nwe might imagine that a large proportion of the population in those days\ndied of the toothache. However, the attitude of prayer was that most\ncommonly adopted, as well in stone as brass effigies, till long after\nthis period.\n\n\"If any thing more than the figure, canopy, inscription, and shield is\nrepresented on a brass, it is commonly a sacred symbol, a trade mark, or\nsome badge of rank or profession. To this there are but a few\nexceptions, besides the brass of John Selwyn. At Lynn, in Norfolk, on\none brass is a hunting scene, on another a harvest-home, such as it was\nin the year 1349, and on another a peacock feast, the date of which is\n1364. Founders of churches frequently hold in their hands the model of a\nchurch. The emblem of undying love we find in the heart, either alone or\nheld by both hands of the effigy. A long epitaph was often avoided by\nthe simple representation of a chalice, a sword, an ink-horn, a\nwool-sack, a barrel, shears, or some such trade or professional emblem.\nSome--comparatively few--of the inscriptions on brasses are, however,\nprofusely long, and sometimes, but very rarely, ridiculous.\n\nIn very early times the epitaphs were always written in Latin or Norman\nFrench; and if that practice had continued, it would not much matter to\npersons generally even if they were absurd, as few could read them: but\nabout the year 1400 they began to be written in English, and then of\ncourse these foolish inscriptions must have been distracting to the\nthoughts of those who attended the church. But it very often happened\nthat persons had their brasses put down some time before their decease,\nas is evident from the circumstance that in many cases the dates have\nnever been filled in. This custom would much tend to prevent foolish and\nflattering inscriptions.\n\n\"I have noticed that there is in nearly all brasses a solemn or serious\nexpression in the countenance suitable to their presence in God's House.\nThey were frequently _portraits_ of the persons commemorated[45]. This\nwas no doubt the case in later brasses, and I think in the earlier also.\nLatterly the faces were sometimes coloured, no doubt to represent the\noriginals more exactly. It seldom happens that the age of the person is\notherwise than pretty faithfully portrayed.\n\n\"I must next tell you something of the dresses of the clergy, the\nsoldiers, and the civilians, as we see them engraved upon the pavements\nof our churches.\"\n\n\n\n\n_CHAPTER IX_\n\nTHE PAVEMENT\n\n\n\"It was a cave, and a stone lay upon it.\"\n\nJohn xi. 38.\n\n\n \"On the floor beneath\n Sepulchral stones appear'd, with emblems graven\n And footworn epitaphs, and some with small\n And shining effigies of brass inlaid.\"\n\n Wordsworth's _Excursion_.\n\n\n \"The warrior from his armed tent,\n The seaman from the tide--\n Far as the Sabbath chimes are sent,\n In Christian nations wide,--\n Thousands and tens of thousands bring\n Their sorrows to His shrine,\n And taste the never-failing spring\n Of Jesus' love Divine.\n\n \"If at the earthly chime, the tread\n Of million million feet\n Approach whene'er the Gospel's read\n In God's own temple-seat;\n How blest the sight, from death's dark sleep\n To see God's saints arise,\n And countless hosts of angels keep\n The Sabbath of the skies!\"\n\n _Lyra Sacra._\n\n\nIllustration: Chancel of Whippingham Church\n\n\n\n\nTHE PAVEMENT\n\n\nIllustration: Brass of Sir Roger de Trumpington\n\n\"That costumes are pretty accurately represented on\nbrasses,\" continued Mr. Ambrose, \"we are sure, from the fact that many\ndifferent artists have made the dresses of each particular period so\nmuch alike; and this circumstance adds much interest and importance to\nthese monuments. I will now describe some of these dresses, and you must\ntry to find out, as I go on, the several parts of the dress I am\ndescribing on Ernest's rubbing's which hang upon the wall. But I shall\nonly be able to say a little about each. First there come the persons\nholding sacred office in the Church. The priests are usually, you see,\ndressed in the robes worn at Holy Communion, and they commonly hold the\nchalice and wafer in their hands. The robe which is most conspicuous is\nthe _chasuble_. It is usually richly embroidered in gold and silk. This\nrobe is one of the ornaments of the minister referred to in the rubric\nat the commencement of the Prayer Book. At the top of it you see the\n_amice_. This too is worked in various colours and patterns. The\nacademic _hood_, some suppose, now represents this part of the priest's\ndress. You must remember we are looking at the dresses worn five hundred\nyears ago, and which had been in use long before that time, and we\ncannot be surprised if some of them, as now worn, are a little changed\nin shape and appearance. The narrow band which hangs from the shoulders\nnearly to the feet, embroidered at the ends, is called the _stole_.\nThis, you know, is still worn by us just as it was then. It is one of\nthe most ancient vestments of the Church, and is intended to represent\nthe _yoke of Christ_. The small embroidered strip hanging on the left\narm is the _maniple_. It is used for cleaning the sacred vessels.\nBeneath the chasuble is the _albe_, a white robe which--changed somewhat\nin form--we still wear. It is derived from the linen ephod of the Jews.\nSometimes on brasses, as on that beautiful one to the memory of Henry\nSever[46], the _cope_ is represented. This is a very rich and costly\nrobe, and is still always worn at the coronations of our Kings and\nQueens; it is also ordered to be worn on other occasions. Then the\nbishops wore, you see, other robes besides those I have mentioned:--the\n_mitre_, like the albe, handed down from the time of the Jews to our own\nperiod; the _tunic_, a close-fitting linen vestment; the _dalmatic_, so\ncalled because it was once the regal dress of Dalmatia; the gloves,\noften jewelled. They hold the _crozier_, or _cross staff_, or else the\n_crooked_, or _pastoral staff_, in their hand. As bishops and priests\nwere then, as now, very often buried in their ecclesiastical vestments,\nthe brass probably in such cases represented, as near as could be, the\nrobed body of the person beneath. The earliest brasses of ecclesiastics\nare at Oulton, Suffolk, and Merton College, Oxford. The date of both is\nabout 1310.\n\n\"We must next come to the monumental brasses of _knights_ and warriors;\nand that curious brass to Sir Peter Legh, which is taken from Winwick\nChurch, will do well for a connecting link between the clergy and the\nwarriors. He is, you see, in armour, but over the upper part of it is a\nchasuble, on the front of which is his shield of arms. And this tells\nhis history. He was formerly a soldier, but at the decease of his wife\nhe relinquished his former occupation, and became a priest of the\nChurch. You see before you soldiers in all kinds of armour, and you can\neasily trace the gradual change from the _chain mail_ to the _plated\narmour_, till you find the former almost entirely abandoned, and the\nlatter adopted, in the early part of the fifteenth century. Now I should\nsoon tire you if I were to describe all the curious sorts of armour\nthese soldiers wear, so I must just take one of them, and that will go\nfar to wards explaining others. There hangs Sir Roger de\nTrumpington[47], of Trumpington, Cambridgeshire; his date is 1289. You\nsee he is cross-legged, and so you would put him down for a Knight\nTemplar, and a warrior in the Holy Land. And so he was; but nevertheless\nyou must remember all cross-legged figures are not necessarily Knights\nTemplar. He rests his head upon a _bascinet_ (A), or helmet. His head\nand neck are protected by chain mail (B), to which is attached his\n_hauberk_ (D), or shirt of mail. On his shoulders are placed _ailettes_\n(C), or little wings, and these are ornamented with the same arms as\nthose borne on his shield. They were worn both for defence and ornament,\nas soldiers' epaulettes are now. The defence for the knees (G) was made\nof leather, and sometimes much ornamented. At a later time it was made\nof plated metal. The legs and feet are covered with chain mail, called\nthe _chausse_ (F), and he wears _goads_, or 'pryck spurs,' on his heels\n(H). Over the hauberk he has a _surcoat_ (E) probably of wool or linen.\nHere you see it is quite plain; but it is frequently decorated with\nheraldic devices; and such devices on the surcoat or armour are often\nthe only clue left to the name and history of the wearer.\n\n\"On the brasses of _civilians_ we find nothing like the present\nungraceful and unsightly mode of dress; indeed we can scarcely imagine\nany thing more ridiculous than the representation of the modern\nfashionable dress on a monumental brass. But on these memorials, you\nsee, the robes are, with rare exceptions, flowing and graceful. In the\nsixteenth century there was but slight difference between the male and\nfemale attire of persons in private life. Of course the dresses of\nprofessional men have always been characteristic. Civilians were, with\nhardly an exception, always represented on brasses _bare-headed_.\nHappily for the good people in those times they did not know the hideous\nand inconvenient _hat_ which continues to torture those who live in\ntowns, but from which we in the country have presumed to free ourselves.\n\n\"The dresses _actually worn_ by the deceased are probably sometimes\nrepresented on the brasses of _ladies_. You have before you every\nvariety of costume, from the simple robe of the time of Edward II. and\nIII., down to the extravagant dresses of Elizabeth's reign. On the early\nbrasses the _wimple_ under the chin marked the rank of the wearer. Till\nabout the year 1550 ladies are not infrequently represented with\nheraldic devices covering their kirtles and mantles; but I should think\nsuch ornamentation was never really worn by them. The different fashions\nof wearing the hair here represented are most fantastic. St. Paul tells\nus that 'if a woman have long hair, it is a glory to her;' but these\nEnglish matrons too often forgot that _simplicity_ which gives to this\nbeauty of nature its chief charm. See, here is the _butterfly\nhead-dress_, of the fifteenth century, extending two feet at the back of\nthe head; and there is the _horn head-dress_, spreading a foot on either\nside of the head. The fashions among women then appear to have been as\ngrotesque as they have been in our own day.\n\n\"_Children_ on these tombs are represented either behind or beneath\ntheir parents; sometimes they wear the _tabard_, a short coat, with\nheraldic figures upon it--as on this brass to John Ansty; you see there\nare twelve sons below the father, and four daughters below the\nmother--sometimes they wear a dress which marks their occupation; and in\na few instances the name of each child is placed below it. _Skeletons_\nand emaciated figures, sometimes in shrouds, were represented on brasses\nafter the fifteenth century. _Crosses_, with or without figures of the\ndeceased, are very frequently to be met with, and their form is often\nexceedingly elegant[48]. You will not fail to notice the _canopies_ of\nmany of these brasses; the beauty of some of these designs it would be\nimpossible to surpass. But I fear you must be tired of my long lecture,\nso I must hasten to bring it to a close. These memorials I like better\nthan any others for churches; for, first, they are by far the most\n_durable_ of all; then they are the most _convenient_, for they take up\nlittle space, and are a great ornament to the _pavement of the church_;\nmoreover they teach their own _moral_, they occupy a _lowly_ place in\nGod's House, and are all on one _common level_. I am, therefore, very\nglad to see them introduced again into many of our cathedrals and parish\nchurches. And, my dear Constance, I must end with a word to you. I fancy\nby this time you have learnt that _monumental brasses_ are not dull and\nstupid. To the student of antiquity, history, genealogy, heraldry, and\narchitecture, these _pavement monuments_ are, I assure you, of the\ngreatest interest and value. They help to fix dates to ancient\ndocuments, to illustrate various periods of ecclesiastical architecture,\nand throw much light on the manners and customs of other times. They\nare, too, a constant protest against that excess in 'wearing of gold and\nputting on of apparel,' against which St. Paul wrote, and which is one\nof the great sins of our day; for though we find elaborate and costly\nrobes represented on the brasses of the great and the wealthy, you\nalways see the figures of the humbler classes clothed in neat and simple\nattire. If people would only follow the good advice of old Polonius to\nhis son,\n\n 'Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,\n But not express'd in fancy[49],'\n\nthere would be less sin, and less want, and less misery in the world.\"\n\n\n\n\n_CHAPTER X_\n\nTHE PAVEMENT\n\n\n\"Behold, I will lay thy stones with fair colours.\"\n\nIsa. liv. 11.\n\n\n \"How all things glow with life and thought,\n Where'er our faithful fathers trod!\n The very ground with speech is fraught,\n The air is eloquent of God.\n In vain would doubt or mockery hide\n The buried echoes of the past;\n A voice of strength--a voice of pride--\n Here dwells amid the stones and blast!\n\n \"Still points the tower, and pleads the bell,\n The solemn arches breathe in stone,\n Window and wall have lips to tell\n The mighty faith of days unknown;--\n Yea! flood, and breeze, and battle shock\n Shall beat upon this Church in vain,\n She stands a daughter of the rock--\n The changeless God's eternal fane!\"\n\n R. S. HAWKER.\n\n\nIllustration: Church of St. John the Baptist, Kidmore End\n\n\n\n\nTHE PAVEMENT\n\n\nIllustration: Encaustic Tile, Brooke Church\n\nMr. Acres and his family attended Morning Prayer at St.\nCatherine's the day following the Vicar's lecture; and after service\nthey examined with greater interest than ever they had done before the\nfloor of the church--indeed Mr. Acres confessed that till that morning\nhe had never had the curiosity to walk up either of the aisles of the\nchurch with the view of finding any object of interest on the pavement.\nIn the course of their search they now discovered a large flat stone,\nhitherto unknown even to the Vicar; the stone, when cleansed from the\ndust which had accumulated upon it (for it was placed in a remote corner\nof the church), was very white; it was engraved with the figure of a\npriest, and the incised lines were filled with a black resinous\nsubstance, so that it almost looked like a large engraving on paper, or\nstill more like one of the copies of brasses which Ernest had exhibited\nthe night before[50]. But what most attracted their attention was the\ncurious old _pavement tiles_, of various patterns, which they found in\ndifferent parts of the floor of the church. Their admiration of these\nancient works of art was soon so deeply engaged, and their desire to\nknow more about them so excited, that Ernest was speedily despatched to\nthe vestry to request the Vicar to come and satisfy their inquiries.\n\n\"I rejoice to see you, Mr. Vicar,\" said the Squire, as Mr. Ambrose\napproached; \"pray come and save me from any further confessions of\nignorance: the children have been persecuting me with a hundred\nquestions about these ancient tiles, and I really am not able to answer\none of them. We must again be dependent upon your kindness for some\ninformation on the subject.\"\n\n\"Then, if you please, we will walk and talk, as I must go this morning\nto see old Wood, at the Warren Lodge; the poor man is very ill.\"\n\n\"Oh, we shall enjoy that,\" exclaimed Constance, \"and do, Mr. Ambrose,\ngive us a nice lecture like you did last night.\"\n\n\"Well, my dear, if it is to be a real lecture, we will suppose this\ngravel path to be my platform, and your father and yourselves to be my\nhighly respectable and most intelligent audience; and so, making my bow\nto the company, I will begin.--There is considerable uncertainty as to\nthe origin of these tiles. Most people suppose that the old Roman\ntessellated pavement suggested the idea of representing figures on\ntiles. But we may imagine them to be merely the result of successive\nimprovements. First, there was the rude tile or brick; then, in very\nearly times, the makers impressed their own particular marks upon them;\nand from this simple practice we can easily imagine the gradual\nintroduction of the elaborate patterns you were looking at in the\nchurch.\"\n\n\"If you please, Mr. Ambrose,\" said Constance, \"will you tell us what was\nthe Roman tessellated pavement?\"\n\n\"It was composed of a number of square pieces of hard-burnt clay, like\ndice, of different colours; these were arranged to form a pattern, and\nthen firmly fixed in very strong cement. They were exceedingly durable,\nand often of most elegant design. When found in the ruins of Roman\nvillas, which they frequently are, they generally appear almost as fresh\nas when they were put down. Tessellated or mosaic pavements are to be\nfound in a few old churches; the most beautiful now existing in England,\nare in Westminster Abbey, and in Canterbury Cathedral, near the tomb of\nThomas a Becket.\"\n\n\"But don't you think it probable,\" inquired Mr. Acres, \"if these tiles\ndate pretty nearly back to the time when the mosaic pavement was used,\nthat the pavement suggested the tiles? there seems to be some similarity\nof pattern, and I noticed that in one part of the church there are\n_plain_ tiles of different colours arranged so as to form a pattern[51],\nwhich seems, on a larger scale, a close imitation of the mosaic\npavement.\"\n\n\"It may be so; and this view seems confirmed by the circumstance that in\nsome foreign churches the tiles are mixed in the same pavement with\nmosaic work. It certainly seems a natural transition from the one to the\nother.\n\nIllustration: Encaustic Tile, Brooke Church\n\nEncaustic tiles exist in abundance and great beauty in Normandy; and\nthough, as I have said, we cannot fix a precise date to their\nintroduction, it seems not improbable that we are indebted to that\ncountry for the first idea of using them in the pavement of our\nchurches, since in some instances they appear to be coeval with the\nerection of the Norman churches in which they are found. Some have upon\nthem the _semi-circular headed arch_, which is characteristic of Norman\ntimes; and as no doubt the later tiles frequently indicate by their\npatterns the period of ecclesiastical architecture to which they may be\nreferred, most likely these may be equally relied upon as marking the\nNorman period. In Ireland, tiles of this date are more common than in\nthis country. Their _general_ use, however, has prevailed among us from\nabout A.D. 1250 to A.D. 1550, and the finest and most interesting\nspecimens we have remaining are at Gloucester and Malvern.\n\nThere are several different kinds of ornamental pavement of which\nspecimens remain. In the ruins of Fountains Abbey are specimens having\nthe pattern pierced through the entire tile, and afterwards filled in\nwith clay of another colour. At Canterbury there are circles of stone\npavement with patterns cut in relief, the spaces being filled in with\ndark cement. In the early stages of the art the pattern of the tiles was\nsometimes left in relief, the tile being of one colour only, but the\nuneven surface was found to be very inconvenient for walking upon.\nEncaustic tiles--so called because the patterns are _burnt into_\nthem--are by far the most common sort of tile pavement in our English\nchurches, especially in the southern and western counties.\"\n\n\"I suppose, Mr. Ambrose,\" said Constance, \"that the tiles in our church\nare of that sort?\"\n\n\"Yes, all of them, both the new and old, except the few of a different\nkind which Mr. Acres spoke of just now.\"\n\n\"And will you be so kind as to tell us how they contrived to make those\npretty patterns on them?\"\n\n\"Oh, yes; it was a very simple process: very much in the same way as\nBridget makes those pretty pats of butter we admire so much; quite the\nsame, if Bridget would only fill in the spaces between the patterns with\nbutter of another colour. They first made the tile of clay, and then\nimpressed it with a wooden stamp; then it was dried or burnt, then some\nthin clay or cement of another colour (usually white) was poured into\nthe pattern, then it was glazed over and burnt, the glazing material\nmaking the white a rich yellow, and deepening the colour of the tile.\nThe pattern is sometimes perfect in a single tile, sometimes four,\neight, or a large number are required to perfect the design. Several\nancient kilns for their manufacture have been discovered[52]. Some of\nthese manufactories, it is evident, were very popular; for we find that\nthe same kiln sometimes supplied a great number of churches. Most of our\nold churches have at some time been paved with these encaustic tiles;\nbut in all cases they have in great measure been destroyed or removed\nwhen other beauties of God's house have been defaced, but often too\nwhere the hand of man has spared, the hand of Time has obliterated.\n\n\"We find every variety of pattern upon these tiles. At Malvern and\nelsewhere are many letters on single tiles: sometimes they are\nalphabetically arranged, sometimes they read backwards, and sometimes\nto a centre. Frequently the tiles have upon them texts of Scripture or\nother inscriptions, such as 'The time is short,' 'Wait for the knell.'\nAt Malvern is a very remarkable tile; it contains the following curious\ndirection to executors, and was probably intended to be placed over a\ntomb:--\n\n 'Thenke . mon . \u017ei . liffe\n maij . not . cu . endure.\n \u017eat . \u017eow . dost . \u017ei . self\n Of . \u017eat . \u017eow . art . sure.\n but . \u017eat . \u017eow . kepist\n un . to . \u017ei . sectur . care.\n and . eu . hit . auaile . \u017ee\n hit . is . but . aventure[53].'\n\nSacred emblems are very common on encaustic tiles, and especially\nsymbols of the Passion; within a single shield is sometimes to be found\nthe cross, crown of thorns, the nails, hammer, scourge, spear, ladder,\ndice, vessel for vinegar, sponge on a rod of hyssop, and rarely, a sort\nof bill, perhaps representing an instrument used in removing the Body\nfrom the cross. The cross alone, floriated, is frequently composed of\nmany tiles; but it enters too into the great majority of those\ngeometrical and floriated patterns which form so large a portion of the\nencaustic pavements of most churches. Armorial bearings and mottoes of\nbenefactors, founders, and others are frequently met with. At Great\nBedwyn, and in the ruins of Chertsey Abbey, have been found knights in\narmour and other most interesting figures, throwing considerable light\non the history of the armour and costumes of the period. At Westminster\nare figures of a king, queen, and abbot, which are supposed to represent\nKing Henry III., his Queen, and the Abbot of Westminster. Then I have\noften seen the cock, the emblem of vigilance; the fox, the emblem of\nsubtlety; the pelican, of piety.\"\n\n\"Why,\" quietly inquired Ernest, \"is the pelican an emblem of piety?\"\n\n\"There is an old legend which tells us that the young of a pelican were\nonce saved from death by starvation by the parent bird tearing open her\nbreast and feeding them with her own blood. This has from very early\ntimes been considered a very beautiful emblem of that Sacrifice which\nhas been offered by Jesus Christ to save us from eternal death. Other\nemblems are--the circle, of eternity; the _fleur de lis_, of the Blessed\nVirgin; the triangle, of the Trinity; the fish, of the Second Person of\nthe Trinity.\"\n\n\"Now do tell me what that means, please, Mr. Ambrose,\" said Constance;\n\"I cannot see why the fish should be so sacred an emblem.\"\n\n\"As you don't understand Greek, my dear, it is not a matter of surprise\nthat you have not understood this oft-recurring emblem. You must know\nthat the Greek word for fish is {~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA WITH DASIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER CHI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER THETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER UPSILON WITH DASIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER FINAL SIGMA~} [ichthys], and the letters\nin this word form the first letters of each word of a Greek sentence, of\nwhich this is the English translation:--'Jesus Christ, the Son of God,\nthe Saviour;' hence the employment of this sacred symbol. Other devices\nare stags, hounds, antelopes, and other animals; swans, and other birds;\nemblems of trades, &c. Some appear ludicrous to us, though no doubt many\nof them were originally intended to teach some useful lesson. At Little\nMarlow is a fool's head, or cock's comb; at Godmersham, on several tiles\nis a bending old man, with a staff in his hand, and on his head a fool's\ncap, representing age and folly. It would seem, however, that some of\nthese grotesque figures were manufactured for no very useful purpose, as\nis evidenced by the penance once inflicted on a monk of Normandy for\nmaking tiles of this description[54]. Encaustic tiles have sometimes\nbeen used for memorials of the departed[55]. In the ruins of Evesham\nAbbey, _under_ a stone coffin, was found a pavement of tiles, on which\nwere initials and a cross. _Above_ a stone coffin, in the ruins of\nKirkstall Abbey, was found, in 1713, a pavement of similar tiles; in\nGloucester Cathedral is a tile to the memory of John Hertford; and at\nMonmouth one to Thomas Coke and Alice his wife. These works of art are\nnot only to be admired as the most suitable decorations for the floors\nof God's house; they are also interesting as specimens of art at various\nperiods; frequently they throw light on the history of churches and\nreligious foundations, and occasionally also of private families. I\nrejoice to see them again claiming the attention of modern artists and\nmanufacturers, and finding a place once more in the churches, which on\nall sides are happily being restored to their former beauty and\nappropriateness.--But here we are at Wood's cottage.\"\n\n\n\n\n_CHAPTER XI_\n\nTHE WALLS\n\n\n\"Peace be within thy walls.\"\n\nPs. cxxii. 7.\n\n\n \"Now view the walls: the church is compass'd round,\n As much for safety, as for ornament:\n 'Tis an enclosure, and no common ground;\n 'Tis God's freehold, and but our tenement.\n Tenants at will, and yet in tail, we be:\n Our children have the same right to't as we.\n\n \"Remember there must be no gaps left ope,\n Where God hath fenced, for fear of false illusions.\n God will have all or none: allows no scope\n For sin's encroachments, or men's own intrusions.\n Close binding locks His Laws together fast:\n He that plucks out the first, pulls down the last.\"\n\n GEORGE HERBERT.\n\n\nIllustration: St. Andrew's Church, Halstead\n\n\n\n\nTHE WALLS\n\n\nThe Warren Lodge was one of those pretty little cottages which are often\nto be found nestling in bright, peaceful corners, about the parks and\nestates of such wealthy squires as Mr. Acres; men whose kindliness of\nheart and whose refinement of taste induce them to combine the\npicturesque with the comfortable, in the houses they provide for their\ntenants and retainers. It was built very near to the Warren Gate of the\npark, and old Wood had been placed here because, being a spot little\nfrequented, it was a quiet resting-place for him in his old age.\nOpposite the cottage was a lovely glen, where yew-trees and laurels,\nmingling with oaks and beeches, hung in many beautiful and fantastic\nforms over a greensward which all the year round never lost its verdure\nor its softness. Seldom did old Master Wood and his wife wander farther\nfrom their cottage than the end of this quiet glen; but that was their\ndaily walk, and Mr. Acres had put up two rustic seats for them to rest\nupon, so that the old couple might accomplish their daily journey\nwithout any great fatigue. But the old man was now too weak for this.\n\n\"I think you and the children had better go in, and leave me outside,\"\nsaid Mr. Acres, \"as possibly poor Wood may feel more at his ease if I am\nnot present.\"\n\nSo Mr. Ambrose and the three children entered the cottage. It was, as\nalways, the picture of neatness and cleanliness; there were a few\nwell-tended geraniums in the windows, and some nice pictures on the\nwalls--not the gaudy, vulgar prints which are so commonly found in the\ncottages of the poor, but really good and well-coloured engravings of\nsacred subjects--a supply of which Mr. Ambrose always kept on sale at a\nvery low price[56]. There was enough of neat furniture in the rooms; and\non a nice bed, with snow-white drapery, lay the poor old man. After a\nshort conversation Mr. Ambrose read the twelfth chapter of St. Paul's\nEpistle to the Romans, and then, when he had given a short explanation\nof the chapter, all knelt down whilst he said some collects from the\nOffice of the Visitation of the Sick, and a prayer applicable to the\nspecial circumstances of these humble cottagers.\n\nIllustration: Ancient Wall Painting in Kimpton Church\n\nThe prayers ended, the old man rose up in his bed, and said, \"Ah, sir, I\nhave often thought of that chapter you read just now, when I was able to\ngo to our dear old church. Just opposite my seat, you know, was the\npicture on the wall of the man giving a poor thirsting creature a cup of\nwater, and of another giving a loaf of bread to somebody that looked\nvery hungry. When Mr. Greekhurst was at our church, years ago, you know,\nsir, he used to preach very learned sermons, and we poor people couldn't\nunderstand much about them, but there was my text and sermon too,\nstraight before me, and I always remembered the picture if I didn't\nremember the sermon. I really think that looking on the old picture made\nme somehow more kindly disposed to some of my neighbours. I suppose it\nhas been there a great many years, sir?\"\n\nIllustration: Ancient Wall Painting in Kimpton Church\n\n\"Yes, my friend; I should think about five hundred years.\"\n\n\"So long as that! Well then, I hope it has taught a good lesson to many\nbefore me.\"\n\n\"No doubt it has; and though it is now almost worn away from the wall,\nyou will be glad to know that we have the same subject in the new\npainted window close by, so the old sermon will not be lost.\"\n\n\"'Tis strange, sir, how well one remembers pictures of this sort, and\nhow they make one think about things which, but for them, we certainly\nmight not care to inquire much about. Now when I was a young man I never\nthought a great deal of that beautiful chapter where St. Paul says so\nmuch about charity. I had often heard the chapter read, and sometimes\nread it myself, but still it never came to my mind how necessary a\nthing charity was for us to have, till one day I went to Sunday-morning\nservice at an old church near our home. I got to the church some time\nbefore service, so I walked about the churchyard, and looked round the\nchurch, and there were pictures all round the outside of the walls of\nthe church[57], explaining that chapter. There was one man bringing all\nhis riches, and every thing he had, to give to the poor, and there was\nanother poor man being burnt to death, and so on; and then at the last\nit said that, without love to God and man, all this was good for\nnothing. Now, sir, I don't recollect a single word of hundreds of\nsermons I have heard, but I shall never forget those pictures.\"\n\n\"Very likely, for most of us remember better what we _see_ than what we\n_hear_, and it is a great mistake not to teach people through the _eye_\nas well as the ear. But we must say good-bye, as Mr. Acres is waiting\nfor us in the park. God bless you, and, if it is His will, I hope you\nmay yet be strong enough to enjoy many of your old walks.\"\n\nOn their return home they followed a path which led them again through\nthe churchyard of St. Catherine's, and were soon joined by the Squire,\nwhose patience had been somewhat exhausted by the long stay of the\nlittle party at old Wood's cottage.\n\n\n\n\n_CHAPTER XII_\n\nTHE WALLS\n\n\n\"Thou shalt call thy walls salvation, and thy gates praise.\"\n\nIsa. lx. 18.\n\n\n \"Behold in heaven yon glorious bow,\n Which spans the gleaming world below!\n The hues distinct in order glow,\n Yet each in each doth melt unseen,\n That none can mark the bound between:\n Lo, such is Faith's mysterious scroll,\n A multiform harmonious whole,\n Together gather'd for our aid,\n And in the darken'd heights display'd:\n The Church shall ne'er that emblem want\n Of her eternal covenant.\"\n\n _The Cathedral._\n\n\nIllustration: St. Michael's Church, Gloucester\n\n\n\n\nTHE WALLS\n\n\nMr. Dole, the proprietor of the village emporium, where all sorts of\ninferior wares were to be had at the highest obtainable prices, was one\nof those persons who seem sent into the world for the special purpose of\npreventing others from being too happy in it. There are persons, no\ndoubt, who go through life always frowning upon their fellow-creatures,\never throwing a dark shadow along the path before them; people who\npersistently turn their backs upon the sunny side of human life; who\nseem to think it wicked to take a bright and cheerful view of any thing\nor any body on all God's earth; whose whole countenances would be\nutterly revolutionized by the faintest approach to an honest, friendly\nsmile. Such persons, we must believe, are often very sincere, and are\nendeavouring to do good in their own way; nor must we say that they\nalways fail in their endeavour; nevertheless they are not the sort of\npersons we care to have as our frequent companions. It is true, there is\nenough about the lives of most of us to make us often sorrowful; but no\nless true is it, that the man who, leading a Christian life and doing\nGod's work in the world, preserves \"a conscience void of offence to\nwards God and to wards men\" will take care that his outward demeanour\ndoes not make his religion unlovely and repulsive in the sight of\nothers. Mr. Dole being of the class we have described, it was no wonder\nthat the village lads had honoured his name with an affix, and that he\nwas generally known among them as old Doleful; nor shall we be surprised\nthat his appearance in the churchyard just as Mr. Acres and the Vicar\nentered it was not welcomed by them with any excessive pleasure.\n\n\"Good evening, Mr. Dole,\" said both gentlemen, as they approached him.\nBut there was no responsive \"Good evening\" from Mr. Dole. Now it is\nalways a bad sign when a man will not return such a simple salutation\nas that: I never knew but one who made me no answer when I wished him\n\"Good evening;\" I was at once impressed with the idea that there was\nlittle good in him, and my impression was correct, for in a few moments\nafter the fellow had put a light to the thatched house of a poor\nneighbour who had offended him, and very soon the poor man's house and\ngoods were crackling in a mass of flame. But, it must be confessed, Mr.\nDole withheld his salutation from no such motive as influenced this man.\nThere was something far too pleasant and cheerful about a kindly \"Good\nevening\" to harmonize in any way with the tone of Mr. Dole's voice or\nmanner; but beyond this, he never said \"Good morning\" or \"Good evening\"\nto any one _on principle_. The fact is, Mr. Dole belonged to a portion\nof the sect of Anabaptists called \"Calvinist Baptists,\" and the extreme\nCalvinistic feature of his Creed had become with him quite a monomania.\nThe idea of _predestination_ haunted him every where and in every thing;\nit ran through his whole life of thought, word, and action; with it he\njustified all his own shortcomings, and it made him insensible to the\nright motives and doings of others. He had become so accustomed to look\non the dark side of men and things, that he had gained for himself a\nsettled character of gloominess and suspicion, and had quite lost sight\nof the Apostolic precept--\"Be courteous.\" Thus he did not believe that\nthese two gentlemen meant what they said, and _really wished_ him to\nhave a \"Good evening;\" and, as regarded himself, he would have\nconsidered the words as a flying in the face of Providence, a direful\noffence against the phantom idol of inevitable Predestination which he\nhad set up in his own heart. To him it seemed only a mockery to use\nthose words of common courtesy, when--as he said to himself--it was\nalready ordained whether these persons should have a good or a bad\nevening, and no words of his could affect or alter their destiny. And so\nhe simply said, \"How do you do, gentlemen?\" But it was spoken in a deep,\nsepulchral voice, as though he reserved to himself a mental protest\nagainst even this small conformity to the world's civility.\n\n\"People are talking about the painting you have been doing in the\nchurch, Mr. Ambrose, and I have just come up to look at it; not that I\nlike that sort of thing, and I don't think the parish money should be\nspent in that way.\"\n\n\"You need not be at all anxious on that score, Mr. Dole, as my friend\nhere has defrayed the whole cost of the work; but let us go into the\nchurch together.\"\n\nNow the line of thought which this man had so long adopted, and the _one\nidea_ he had cherished, had so dulled his heart and mind to all sense of\nthe beautiful that he could never appreciate, like other people, what\nwas pure and lovely, either in nature or in art. No wonder then that he\nfailed to admire the beautiful decoration with which the Squire had\nadorned St. Catherine's Church.\n\nFirst of all, Mr. Ambrose pointed out to him some old wall-paintings of\ngreat interest, which had been recently discovered. From these Mr. Acres\nhad had the successive coats of whitewash carefully removed, and, though\nthey were several centuries old, the colours were but little faded.\nAmong the most curious were a series of paintings which quite covered\nthe north wall of the chancel.\n\nIllustration: Ancient Wall Painting in Bedford Church\n\n\"You will see, Mr. Dole, that these all represent events in the life of\nour Blessed Lord. Here is the beginning of the series; it is the Tree of\nJesse, showing the descent of our Lord in the line of David,--next is\nthe Nativity,--next the Adoration of the Magi,--then, the Massacre of\nthe Holy Innocents,--then, the Presentation in the temple; and there, on\nthe upper part of the wall, are--the Betrayal, our Lord before Pilate,\nbeing Mocked, being Scourged, bearing His Cross, His Crucifixion, and\nthere, below the Crucifixion, His descent from the Cross, and His\nEntombment[58]. These, you see, Mr. Dole, are not only valuable as\nshowing one way in which our Church five hundred years ago set before\nthe eyes and minds of the people the human life of our Lord; but they\nare still well suited for the sacred place they adorn, inasmuch as they\nstill serve to remind the worshipper in this House of Prayer of the\ngreat truths they represent. I must, however, confess that we brought\nto light some paintings on the walls of a different character; some of\nthese were very grotesque, others were from some cause or other\nobjectionable. These were copied, as possessing antiquarian interest,\nand were then obliterated. It was long before we could bring our minds\nto destroy these curious relics of old days[59], and had they occupied\nless conspicuous places in the church, I think we should have been\ntempted to preserve them, but the House of God has a higher use than to\nbe a mere preserver of curiosities, and to this higher use its\ndecorations and all within it should contribute.\"\n\nMr. Ambrose then explained the new wall-decorations which had been\npainted by Mr. Acres. These consisted of groups illustrating sacred\nsubjects, texts of Holy Scripture mixed with foliage and tracery; and,\nby clever introduction of foliage and holy texts among the old work, he\nhad made the old and the new to harmonize very well. The colours were\nwell arranged, and all was done with a due reference to the\narchitectural features of the church. Before this time the only attempt\nat ornament for the walls of the church consisted of some square boards,\nput up about fifty years ago, on which were painted some ill-selected\nsentences, whilst beneath each sentence was painted a human head of\ninhuman ugliness.\n\nNot one word had as yet been spoken to the Vicar by his seemingly\nattentive listener. At length he said, in his usual dismal tone, \"I\ndon't see any use in it, sir. To my mind, our little Rehoboth down in\nthe village is more like the simplicity of the Gospel. Besides, I call\nall this a breaking of the second commandment.\"\n\n\"I leave you to judge whether the mean little meeting-house you call\nRehoboth, or this beautiful church, is most in accordance with the only\npatterns we have in God's Word of houses dedicated to His worship, or\nmost fitting as types of the Heavenly Temple whose magnificence is\ndescribed in such glowing language by St. John; but as regards these\npaintings, the pictures and toys you sell in your shop are just as much\na breaking of the second commandment; for these are no more made to\nworship than are those.\"\n\n\"But nobody will kneel down before my toys and pictures; if they kneel\nat all, however, in your church, they must kneel before these pictures.\nI call them idolatrous images, and I say they are worshipped.\"\n\n\"And, by the same mode of reasoning, I say, Mr. Dole, that the people at\nyour meeting-house break the second commandment; for they fall down to\nwhitewash, and worship it.\"\n\n\"What do you mean, sir?\"\n\n\"Why, only this: that turn whichever way they will to worship, they must\nturn to one of your four whitewashed walls. But let us be quite fair to\neach other. The truth is, you don't worship whitewash, nor do we worship\nimages; but whilst we think it most in accordance with reason and\nreligion to decorate our walls with sacred subjects, such as are likely\nto suggest solemn and holy thoughts, and to make our churches as\nbeautiful as possible, you, on the contrary, seem to regard it as a\nreligious duty to make your meeting-houses as ugly as possible. And now\nI must say good-bye, Mr. Dole.\"\n\n\"Sir, I should like to meet you here again some day.\"\n\n\"I only wish we could at least meet here every Sunday. Good-bye.\"\n\n\"I almost think,\" said Mr. Acres, as they left the church, \"the outside\nof our church walls are as interesting as their interior. The north wall\nis evidently the earliest part of the church. It contains some Roman\nbricks, placed herring-bone fashion, among the old Norman rubble. This,\ndoubtless, was erected immediately after the destruction of the little\nSaxon church with its wooden walls[60] which once stood on this very\nsite; then come the Early English walls of the chancel, then the very\ninteresting specimens of brick-work of the sixteenth century in the\ntower and western walls. But you have given Mr. Dole and us all such a\nlong and useful lecture on the _inside_ of the walls, that we must not\nstop to say any more about their outside.\"\n\n\"I must just say this, my friend, respecting the outside walls, that I\ncan forgive a builder for any fault more easily than for want of\n_reality_ in the exterior of a church. For the sake of decoration and\nneatness it may be desirable that the internal walls should be covered\nwith cement or plaster, but there is no excuse for so covering the\nchurch externally. If mean materials are used, let the mean materials\nappear; but it is unpardonable to use the mean and spread over it a\nfalse pretence of the costly. Brick walls are often very beautiful, and\nnot inferior to flint or stone; but if they are of brick, let the brick\nbe seen, and let it not pretend to be _stone_.\"\n\nIllustration: Wall Painting\n\n\n\n\n_CHAPTER XIII_\n\nTHE WINDOWS\n\n\n\"I will make thy windows of agates, and thy gates of carbuncles, and all\nthy borders of pleasant stones.\"\n\nIsa. liv. 12.\n\n\n \" ... Sometimes thoughts proud and wild\n Have risen, till I saw the sunbeams steal\n Through painted glass at evensong, and weave\n Their threefold tints upon the marble near,\n Faith, Prayer, and Love, the spirit of a child!\"\n\n FABER.\n\n\nIllustration: Church of St. John, Brandenburg\n\nIllustration: Doorway, St. Stephen's Church, Tangermuende\n\n\n\n\nTHE WINDOWS\n\n\nMr. Acres and his family had now learnt, from their many conversations\nwith the Vicar on the subject, to take a deep interest in church\narchitecture, and were ever seeking and finding some new beauties either\nin the solid building or the ornaments of their own ancient church,\nwhich now they looked upon with quite a new feeling of pride and\nadmiration. When, therefore, Mr. Ambrose was a visitor at the Hall, he\nwas not unfrequently called upon to deliver a short drawing-room lecture\non some portion of the church or its furniture. \"Now, Mr. Ambrose,\" said\nthe Squire, on one of these occasions, \"as we are only a family party\nthis evening, will you kindly give us some more information on our\nfavourite topic of conversation lately? I see the same request is on the\nlips of all these little people, but they are not so impudent, I\nsuppose, as I am. You will, I hope, find us more profitable pupils than\nMr. Dole, to whom you specially addressed your lecture in the church the\nother day.\"\n\n\"I am not so sure of that; for what I said to him, if it did no more, at\nleast set him _thinking_; and that is a great point, you know. You see,\nthose kind of people, as a rule, never read and never hear any thing\nreally worth reading or hearing about matters of this sort. They are\nsimply taught to believe that all outward form and ceremony in the\nServices, and all outward _meaning_ and _beauty_ in the fabric of the\nchurch, are idolatrous and superstitious, and they care to inquire no\nfurther than that. Their prejudice is fostered by ignorance, and to lead\nthem to _inquire_ is the first step to wards inducing conviction. Then,\nhow very little our own people generally know about these things, and\nhow seldom comparatively they are prepared with a ready answer with\nwhich to meet the objections of persons who are even more ignorant than\nthemselves! This surely ought not to be. If we place beautiful and\ncostly ornaments and furniture in our churches, the poorest person in\nthe parish should be taught the meaning of them; and if the Stones of\nthe Temple have each a lesson to teach, the poorest person in the parish\nought to know what they say. But I am wandering from my point: our last\nsubject was the _walls_ of the church; what shall we talk about to-day,\nConstance?\"\n\n\"Oh, I think the _windows_ should come next, Mr. Ambrose; but there are\nso many different kinds of windows, that, of course, you cannot tell us\nall that might be said about them.\"\n\n\"No, indeed, my dear; I can only tell you a very small part of their\nhistory, but still enough, perhaps, to increase the interest you already\nfeel on the subject. First, then, I shall say something about the\n_stone-work_ of the windows; and what I say about windows applies very\nmuch also to the _doors_ of a church, only the doors are generally much\nmore richly ornamented. Now there are some very simple rules by which we\nmay commonly know from the windows pretty nearly at what period that\nparticular part of the church was built. You cannot, of course, always\ntell from any thing still existing at what time the church was _first_\nbuilt, because often no part whatever of the first church is remaining.\nThe font, from its sheltered position, is the most frequently preserved\nrelic of the original church; sometimes one doorway alone remains, and\nsometimes but a single window to mark the earliest date of the church.\n\n\"As I must not puzzle your brains with the hard words employed by\npersons learned in church building, I do not profess to give you the\nnice distinctions by which they arrive almost at exact dates. Ours must\nbe a very rapid glance at the whole subject. The two great distinct\ncharacters, then, in church windows, as also in other parts of the\nbuilding, are the _semi-circular arch_ and the _pointed arch_. The\nformer is to be found in churches erected before the year 1150, and the\nlatter since that year; but of course there are exceptions. The earliest\nround-headed windows (that the few buildings in which they are found\nwere originally intended as Christian temples, I do not of course\naffirm) are the _Roman_, and these are easily known, for they are nearly\nalways partly composed of red bricks[61]. Then come the _Saxon_; these\nare built of stone, but are quite plain, and generally as rude and rough\nas the Roman. You know the Romans held possession of our country from\nthe year 50 before Christ till A.D. 450; and then the Saxons held the\ncountry till A.D. 1066; but it is impossible accurately to fix the dates\nof most of the churches they built. Next follow the _Norman_; these are\nmore ornamental, and not so roughly executed; and after the Norman\nConquest, when many clever builders and masons came over from Normandy,\nthey were often most beautifully decorated. The figures of persons and\nanimals, indeed, that are sometimes to be found (but more especially\nabove the doorways) at this time seem very quaint and curious to us now,\nand often quite unintelligible, but no doubt they once all had an useful\nmeaning and were specimens of the highest art of the time; very many of\nthem are Scripture subjects. Sometimes triangular windows are to be met\nwith of the Saxon and Norman periods, but very rarely. As I said before,\nsome of their stone carvings appear to us to be very quaint and\ngrotesque, and so too the arrangement of their windows was sometimes\nfanciful; they seem to have attempted occasionally[62], to represent the\nfeatures of the face, the doorway representing the mouth, and the\nwindows the eyes and nose.\n\nIllustration: Crowmarsh Church\n\n\"The reason why the windows were in some instances so small, we may\nimagine was because they were sometimes not glazed, and it was\ndesirable that, to keep out the wind and rain and the winter's cold,\nthey should be only just large enough to admit the necessary light. I\nhave lately seen an old Norman window which had been long bricked up, in\nwhich there had evidently never been any glass[63]. We need not be\nsurprised at this, for even so lately as in the reign of Queen\nElizabeth, it was no uncommon thing for the windows in private houses to\nhave no glass in them.\n\nIllustration: Diagram of arches\n\n\"Now we come to the pointed-headed arches. From about A.D. 1150 to A.D.\n1200, which is called the _Transition_ period the two styles were a good\ndeal mixed. People have different, opinions as to the origin of these\npointed arches. A learned friend of mine has an idea of his own about\nit, which he calls _the finger theory_. He supposes that all church\narches and tracery may be derived from different positions in which the\nfingers may be placed when the hands are clasped as in prayer, and that\nfrom these, first the round, and then the pointed arch was suggested as\na fit design to be adopted for a House of Prayer. It is at least an\ningenious and a pleasing conception. Some have imagined that the meeting\nof branches in a grove of trees first gave the idea of the pointed arch.\nOften, as I have looked down the avenue by old Wood's cottage, has the\nopening at the opposite end reminded me of the eastern window of some\nsplendid cathedral, whilst the long intervening rows of trees, with\ntheir branches uniting overhead, has suggested to my mind the pillars\nand groined roof of the building. Our old heathen forefathers knew well\nthe grand effect of these magnificent temples of nature's building, when\nthey selected them as the places best adapted for their awful\nsacrifices, and the worship of their 'Unknown God[64].' But it seems\nmost probable that one style of architecture naturally introduced\nanother, and that the pointed followed naturally from the semi-circular\narch. When the builders saw what a beautiful arch was produced by a\nnumber of their old semi-circular arches intersecting each other, they\ngradually introduced the newly-discovered pointed arch, and at length,\nfinding that it admitted of such a far greater variety of beautiful\ntracery in the window, they abandoned the old style altogether.\n\n\"The first pure style of pointed windows is called the _Early\nEnglish_[65], which prevailed from about A.D. 1200 to A.D. 1300. It is\noften very simple, the plain lancet-shaped window being the most common;\nit frequently has the same ornaments as the Norman, but its peculiar\nornament is a flower, almost round, called the _ball-flower_. This was\nfollowed, up to about A.D. 1400, by a more graceful flowing style,\ncalled the _Decorated_ or _Florid_, and it is chiefly to be\ndistinguished by the waving flame-like character of the stone-work in\nthe upper part of the window. Then next we have quite a different style,\nwhich is called the _Perpendicular_, so named from its upright or\nperpendicular lines, some of which run up uninterruptedly from the\nbottom to the top of the window. This style is peculiar to England, and\nwindows of this character are very rarely to be found elsewhere. In the\nsixteenth and seventeenth centuries, the arch of the window gradually\nbecomes depressed, first sinking to the _Tudor_ arch, and then losing\nits pointed character altogether and becoming quite flat; and this\nintroduced what, from its comparative want of beauty, is called the\n_Debased_ style. The windows of this period were usually square-headed,\nand possessed, like the other parts of the building, little ornament. It\nprevailed till the middle of the seventeenth century, and may be\nconsidered the second childhood of Church Architecture; and it was\ncertainly far inferior to the first. Succeeding to this period came all\nthose hideous semi-classical erections, most of which, I believe, were\nbuilt in the reign of Queen Anne, though some were before and some\nafter; and those still more unsightly parodies on Gothic architecture\nwhich were erected at the close of the last and commencement of the\npresent century. In our own day we have far _advanced_ by a complete\n_retrogression_, and churches are mostly copies of one or other of the\nstyles I have mentioned. If, however, our present age may boast of a\nchurch architecture of its own, it will undoubtedly be that of those\nmost beautiful _brick_ churches which have been but lately erected, such\nas All Saints' and St. Alban's, London, and St. James', Oxford.\"\n\n\"You have not told us any thing about the _round_ windows, Mr. Ambrose,\"\nsaid Constance; \"you know we have a very pretty one in our church.\"\n\n\"Yes, I ought to have told you that these circular windows are to be\nfound in all styles of architecture, usually at the west end of the\nchurch. They are called rose windows and marigold windows, from their\nsupposed likeness to those flowers; and St. Catherine's windows, from\ntheir resemblance to the wheel on which she suffered martyrdom. It is\nlikely that this window was placed in our church because it is dedicated\nto St. Catherine.\"\n\n\"That leads me to ask,\" said Mr. Acres, \"what _symbolism_ there may be\nin the windows of a church; for in your sermon last Sunday you said that\nthere was a lesson to be learnt from all the speechless stones of the\nsanctuary.\"\n\n\"Yes; and every window in the church should remind us of certain\nChristian truths. The _light_ which they admit should make us think of\nHim who is the 'Light of the world,' 'a Light to lighten the Gentiles,'\n'the Day-spring from on high,' 'the Sun of Righteousness,' 'that\nlighteth every man that cometh into the world.' The window with its\ndouble compartments reminds us of the two natures of Christ; the triple\nwindow, and the many triple forms in it, of the Trinity[66]. But it is\nof course most chiefly in its storied panes that the church window\nbecomes our teacher.\"\n\n\"Certainly; I see that: and, by-the-by, as I am as ignorant as my\nchildren about the history of stained glass, please tell us something\nabout that before we part.\"\n\n\"I will, gladly. As far as we know, stained glass was never used before\nabout the year 850; but when it once came into general use, it would\nappear that no church was considered complete unless every window was\nfurnished with it. At first, it probably consisted of rude imitations of\nold mosaic patterns[67]. Then figures were introduced, which depended\nfor their general effect upon broad black lines either produced by lead\nor colour. The old stained glass may always be known by the deep\nrichness of its colours, especially of the blue and ruby. Probably\nCanterbury Cathedral possesses the earliest and best specimens\nremaining, the date of some of which is about A.D. 1120[68]. In the\nglass of this time you find small medallions containing several figures,\nthe surrounding parts being filled with tracery. Next come small single\nfigures, or groups of figures, with or without canopies, with border\ntracery and foliage; sometimes there are the shields of founders and\nbenefactors. About A.D. 1350 larger figures of saints were painted, each\noccupying a whole compartment of the window, with larger and more\nelaborate canopies. Now, too, windows began to be _mortuary_, and\ncontained figures of deceased persons, with their shields and banners.\nIn the following century single subjects often extended over several\ncompartments, or even the whole of the window. Sentences in old English\nletters were frequently painted, issuing from the mouths of figures\n(just as we find them on monumental brasses of the same date), and also\nin various other parts of the window. One colour only, commonly yellow,\nwith black lines to mark the features and dresses, was now, and also\nbefore this time, frequently used.\n\n\"At this period glass painters fell into a great error by studying more\nto paint pictures, correct in all the lesser and unimportant parts of\nthe drawing, than to produce a pleasing and solemn distant effect; they\noften lost the effect of a grand accessory to the beauty and harmony of\na Gothic temple, in order to gain that of a piece of painted calico.\nFrom about A.D.1600 this art gradually declined, and, with some\nexceptions, the glass painting and architecture of our churches fell\ntogether, the inferior artist of the former being often employed in\ndepicting the debased style of the latter. Immense quantities of stained\nglass were destroyed by the sacrilegious hands of the Puritans in the\nseventeenth century[69], and of course much, from its brittle nature,\nhas otherwise perished; enough, however, remains to show how splendidly\nour churches were formerly decorated with it, and to afford invaluable\naid to those who are now engaged in promoting the happy revival of this\nnoble art.\n\nIllustration: Stained Glass Window in Great Malvern Church\n\nIllustration: Stained Glass Window in Great Malvern Church\n\nIllustration: Stained Glass Window in Great Malvern Church\n\n\"There is just one other point to which I must briefly allude--the value\nof stained glass windows as _historical records_. There can be no\nobjection to windows in some parts of the church (specially those placed\nover the arches of the nave which are called _clerestory_ windows) being\nthus employed, though the presence of these subjects in some parts would\nbe most objectionable. There are some most interesting windows of this\ncharacter still remaining. I have only time to notice some of those in\nGreat Malvern Church. I have brought you some drawings of these windows;\nthey represent some events in the life of St. Werstan, who was martyred\nin a small chapel near to the spot where these windows are. This glass\npreserves the only ancient record we have of this saint. In the first\npane you see there is a representation of Werstan himself; the hills at\nthe back, with the flowers and ferns upon them, probably represent the\nMalvern hills; and the painting above, the plot of ground on which his\nchurch was built. The key has reference either to the material fabric or\nthe spiritual efficacy of its sacred services, and the four\ncorner-stones, held by four angels, each with three fingers raised in\nthe attitude of blessing in the name of the Trinity, are doubtless\nintended to indicate the favour of Heaven on his pious work. In the next\npane the figure and hills are repeated, and above is a representation of\nthe different ceremonies attending the consecration of the completed\nchurch. In the third pane you see the hills, with their flowers and\nferns, covering the whole background; in the lower part, the now regular\nservices of St. Werstan's little church appear to be represented by\nthree choristers; and standing near them are two persons who are\nprobably their instructors. The upper part represents the martyrdom of\nthe saint in his own chapel. The stained glass in Great Malvern Church\ncontains other historical records, but we have not time to notice them.\"\n\nIllustration: Rose Window, Cremona Cathedral\n\n\n\n\n_CHAPTER XIV_\n\nA LOOSE STONE IN THE BUILDING\n\nA DIGRESSION\n\n\n\"Let the priests repair the breaches of the house, wheresoever any\nbreach shall be found.\"\n\n2 Kings xii. 5.\n\n\n \"Men, who have ceased to reverence, soon defy\n Their forefathers; lo! sects are form'd, and split\n With morbid restlessness;--the ecstatic fit\n Spreads wide; though special mysteries multiply,\n _The saints must govern_, is their common cry;\n And so they labour, deeming Holy Writ\n Disgraced by aught that seems content to sit\n Beneath the roof of settled modesty.\"\n\n WORDSWORTH.\n\n\nIllustration: Amberley Church, in ruin, and restored\n\n\n\n\nA LOOSE STONE IN THE BUILDING\n\nA DIGRESSION\n\n\nSince the last conversation which we recorded between the Vicar and Mr.\nDole, the character of the latter had become much softened. On various\noccasions they had been brought into each other's company, and the\nconsequence was that each had begun to think more favourably of the\nother, and to find some unsuspected good qualities which promised well\nto establish between them that cordial good feeling and mutual respect\nwhich ought always to exist between a Pastor and each member of his\nflock.\n\nThe following close of a long conversation might explain the loss of\nesteem and influence which many a parish priest, besides the Vicar of\nSt. Catherine's, has had to deplore:--\n\n\"Well, Mr. Ambrose, had we known each other more, we should have\nunderstood each other better; my lips, at least, would have been saved\nthe guilt of many hard words; perhaps, too, sir, you would have thought\nof me a little more charitably.\"\n\n\"There may be truth in that, Mr. Dole,\" said the Vicar; \"but then you\nmust own that you have always shown such sternness and severity to wards\nme as to forbid any friendly approach on my part. I have, indeed, put it\ndown, in a great measure, to that harsh judgment of the conduct and\nopinions of others which I considered your form of dissent tended to\nfoster--but this has not relieved me of my difficulty.\"\n\n\"I suppose I must confess that those who hold very strictly to the\ndoctrines in which I have been brought up, have generally a severe and\nsour bearing to wards others who do not believe as they do, and,\nindeed, very often to wards members of their own body also. Then, you\nsee, sir, at their prayer meetings, and their Sabbath services, they get\nmuch more excited and animated than people do at church, and so,\nperhaps, it's natural for them to be a little more subdued and less\nlively when they are out of 'meeting.'\"\n\n\"Yes, that's natural; and no doubt what you say accounts for some\ndifferences in the opinions we form of each other's characters. At\n'meeting' I am aware persons are commonly wrought up, by exciting\nappeals, loud words, and wild gestures, to a state of _high pressure_,\nof which we at church know little; and so they consider the calm,\ndignified solemnity of our services as cold and lifeless. Out of\n'meeting' a reaction takes place, and they become comparatively\ndepressed and undemonstrative, and we consider them morose and\nill-tempered; _we_ have no such reaction to undergo, and to us the world\nseems brighter than to them, and so they think us frivolous and worldly.\nBut for my part, Mr. Dole, I can't possibly see what is the use of a\nman's speaking ten times louder than is necessary in order to make\nhimself heard, just that he may produce a fever-heat in the pulses of\nhis congregation. If continued for any length of time, it leads to\nsomething very like temporary madness; if not, it is likely to subside\ninto a dull, sullen apathy. Moreover, I have yet to learn that it is\nwrong, provided we do not abuse them, to enjoy the good things God gives\nus, with a _cheerful countenance_--aye, and with a merry heart, too.\n\n\"On that point I have for some time been inclining to your opinion, sir;\nthough, I fear, you will think I have not given much outward proof of\nit. But, nevertheless, you have in this matter as yet partly mistaken\nme--indeed we have partly mistaken each other. Perhaps my religion may,\nin some degree, account for my seeming gloominess and indifference; but\nthese have arisen quite as much from home sorrows and disappointments,\nand the coldness and cruelty I have experienced from others. I will not,\nhowever, trouble you with these matters now, more than to say, that if\nyou could have overlooked the ungracious words I may sometimes have said\nto and of you, and have looked in upon me, and for my evil have\nreturned good, by speaking some kind and friendly words to me, you would\nhave done much to brighten a life that has known but little sunshine;\nfor I have longed more than I can tell you for a friend to whom I could\nfearlessly tell the sorrows of my heart. I know I have been to blame,\nfor I always used to think you too _proud_ to take much interest in my\ncares and troubles; may be, sir--I am sure you will forgive my plain\nspeaking--may be we have been both a little to blame.\n\n\"Now, Mr. Ambrose,\" continued his parishioner, in a far more cheerful\nvoice than was usual with him, \"you know that since your friendly\nconversation with me that day in the church, I have followed the advice\nyou then gave me, and have never failed to be one of your congregation\nat least once on the Sunday. I trust I have profited by what you have\ntaught me: will you not be offended if I for a moment turn the tables,\nand preach a few words to you? I don't mean to _you_ yourself\npersonally, sir, but I mean to you as one of the ministers of the\nChurch.\"\n\n\"I am sure you will not say any thing that will give me just cause for\noffence, my friend, and so I promise not to be offended.\"\n\n\"Well then, sir, you know I have always lived amongst Dissenters, so I\nknow pretty well who and what they are. You will agree with me, that\nthere are many excellent people among them, and there are some learned\npeople among them; but generally they have but little learning. Very\noften their attention has been almost solely directed to _a single point\nof doctrine_ which itself forms the ground of their dissent from the\nChurch--just as with me; though I do not think the Church is quite right\non some other matters, yet I should not separate from it could I be\npersuaded that the Church was right about _Baptism_. That has always\nbeen _my one_ great stumbling-block. But I think, sir, speaking with all\nrespect for yourself, that there is _one great cause_ in the Church\nministers themselves which has kept the Dissenters from coming back to\nthe Church. I know that this has more to do with the _past_ than the\n_present_; I know too that it could not of itself justify any one in\nseparating from the Church. But, sir, look at the class of people\nDissenters are of, in this country; their whole strength lies in the\nmiddle and the small-trade class. There are among them comparatively\nvery few rich and educated, very few poor. You will say the love of the\npower and position which those people obtain for themselves in the\nmeeting-house, but which they could not possess, in the same way, in the\nChurch, naturally draws them to the Dissenters. That is no doubt partly\ntrue; giving them also credit--as I am sure you do, sir--for higher\nmotives. But I see another reason; and that is, the wide difference\nbetween the Church ministers and the people.\"\n\n\"I see what you mean,\" said the Vicar: \"the difference in their social\nposition. I admit that the social position of the dissenting preacher is\nmore on a level with that class of which, as you say, Dissenters are\nchiefly composed than is that of the Clergy. But then, Mr. Dole, the\nChurch does not only retain its hold on the upper and the educated\nclasses, but also on the poor (of course I speak generally; for there\nare, alas! a large number of these which are beyond the reach of any\nreligious ministrations whatever).\"\n\n\"Ah, yes, sir, that's the very point. I think in times past the Church\nministers have stood too much on their social and worldly dignity: they\nhave made too much of the _man_, and too little of the _office_. It's\ndifferent now almost every where. But you see, sir, this just separated\nthem from the tradespeople, but it didn't separate them from the poor.\nThey didn't feel their pride wounded when they took the horny hand of\nthe labourer; but it was a greater trial of humility to shake hands with\nthe tradesman over the counter, and to go and sit down in the parlour\nbehind the shop, in the same friendly way in which they visited the poor\ncottagers. Then, you know, sir, there were many other ways in which this\nclass was neglected: _we_ think it was lest too great attention should\nlead to too great familiarity. The wealth and education of a tradesman\nperhaps sometimes made his social position border too closely on that of\nthe Church minister, and perhaps the minister felt it his duty carefully\nto guard the narrow barrier; but, oh, dear me, sir, what is all that\ncompared with the work God has given him to do! I don't think that one\nwho has the salvation of his people at heart will stop to consider\nwhether a friendly, faithful pastoral visit may or may not result in a\nmore familiar nod from his parishioners for the future. Do you know,\nsir, I think this is one of the loose stones in your spiritual House.\"\n\n\"I agree with much that you have said, as regards _past years_: but you\nmust not put all down to _pride_; you must make more allowances for\nmen's peculiar habits, and circumstances, and manners. Only just now you\nexcused a kindred fault in yourself on the ground of private cares and\nanxieties. However, our views on this matter are not far apart. I\nconsider, with you, that a clergyman's _office_ overrides all social\ndistinctions; and that he should be equally at home at the squire's\nmansion, the tradesman's parlour, and the meanest cottage in his parish;\nnone should be too high for his familiarity, none too low for his\nfriendship: as Chaucer says, 'the beggar is his brother.' His _social_\nposition is certainly as nothing compared with his _official_, and\nshould always be made subservient to it. I cannot understand how any\nclergyman, who rightly estimates the high dignity of his sacred office\nas a priest, can take a different view from this. However--God be\npraised!--times are altered in this respect: the Clergy have thrown away\nalmost every where that reserve which no doubt lost to the Church many\nof the class which the Dissenters have gained. And we see now the good\nresults; for in thousands of parishes the sons and daughters of these\nvery people are working hand-in-hand with their Pastor, and are among\nthe most zealous and faithful children of the Church, bringing again\nwithin the walls of her Temples multitudes of those who have been\nfellow-wanderers with themselves, and so helping to repair, one by one,\nthe many breaches which have, alas! been made in the House of the\nLord.\"\n\n\n\n\n_CHAPTER XV_\n\nTHE FONT\n\n\n\"Suffer the little children to come unto Me, and forbid them not; for of\nsuch is the kingdom of heaven.\"\n\nLuke xviii. 16.\n\n\n \"There is a Font within whose burnish'd face\n The o'erarching pile itself reflected sleeps,\n Columns, arch, roof, and all the hallow'd place,\n Beauteously mirror'd in its marble deeps;\n And holy Church within her vigil keeps:\n Thus round our Font on storied walls arise\n Scenes that encompass Sion's holy steeps,\n Rivers of God and sweet societies,\n The mountain of our rest, and Kingdom of the skies.\"\n\n _The Baptistery._\n\n\nIllustration: Ancient Font in West Rounton Church\n\n\n\n\nTHE FONT\n\n\nA few weeks after the interview mentioned in the last chapter, the Vicar\npreached three sermons from the same text, St. John iii. 5: \"Except a\nman be born of water and of the Spirit, he cannot enter into the kingdom\nof God.\" The first sermon was on the _necessity of Baptism_; the second,\non _its benefits_; and the third, on _its mode of administration_,\nspecially in the case of infants. Mr. Ambrose could not help noticing\nthat Mr. Dole was on each occasion deeply affected, for he saw tears on\nhis face, which evidently manifested deep emotion within. He was,\ntherefore, hardly surprised, when, after his third sermon, a knock at\nthe vestry-door announced a visit from his parishioner.\n\n\"I have listened very attentively to your last three sermons, Mr.\nAmbrose,\" said he, \"and the subjects of them have also, as you know, for\na long time past been seriously and prayerfully considered by me; I am\nnow come to ask you to receive me into the Church by Baptism.\"\n\n\"Have you never yet been baptized, my friend?\" inquired the Vicar,\ntaking his hand in a kind and friendly way.\n\n\"No, I have not; when I was an infant, my parents objected to my being\nbaptized, and since I became a man, I must confess with shame, that I\nhave never had the _courage_ to go through the service at our _meeting_.\nThat service, you know, sir, is such as to deter far more courageous\nmen--and specially women--than I am, and I have always, too, had my\ndoubts about its propriety.\"\n\n\"I am not surprised at that. I once, when a boy, attended a baptism at\none of your _meetings_, and I shall never forget it; for a more unseemly\nspectacle I never witnessed. There were several young men and women\nimmersed by the preacher, in a large tank of water, in the middle of the\nmeeting-house. Each was clothed in a flannel garment fitting almost\nclosely to the body, and the appearance of the first of them was the\nsignal for a general rush to the best places for seeing; men and boys\nclimbed noisily over the pews, and some took their places on the backs\nof the seats, so as to get a good view; and the whole scene was most\ndisorderly and irreverent.\n\n\"I have explained to you that our own Church also admits of baptism by\n_immersion_[70], but it does not _require_ it, nor even recommend it.\nNevertheless occasionally persons desire it; and there are a few\nchurches, chiefly in Wales, where a large tank of water, as well as a\nsmaller font, is provided for such special cases. But this mode of\nbaptizing is not encouraged by the Church, for these among other\nreasons:--It is _not necessary_--for 1, the word _Baptism_, in the\noriginal, does not necessarily mean entire immersion; 2, in the absence\nof proof to the contrary, we may fairly conclude, from the peculiar\ncircumstances[71] of the cases, that many of whose baptism we read in\nthe New Testament were not so immersed; 3, the Church from the earliest\nperiod has not considered immersion as necessary to the validity of\nBaptism. It is also _inconvenient_--for 1, in some cases it would be\nmost difficult to obtain sufficient water for the purpose; 2, in many\ncases there would be much risk and danger attending its practice; 3, in\nall cases there would be difficulty in securing that solemnity,\npropriety, and order so desirable in the administration of this holy\nsacrament. But the Baptism of adults, even according to the Church's\nordinary rules, is no small test of courage, as well as sincerity. You\nare aware, no doubt, that your own Baptism and reception into the Church\nmust be _in the face of the congregation_. The law of the Church is very\nplain on this point; it distinctly forbids Baptism to be administered\n_privately_, either at home or in the Church, 'unless upon a great and\nreasonable cause;' and it is much to be regretted that this rule has\never been departed from.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir, I have well considered that point.\"\n\nThe Vicar remained long that afternoon in the vestry in serious\nconversation and earnest prayer with his parishioner. He again went over\nthe subject of the last three sermons; showing, 1st, how the text could\nrefer to nothing else than holy Baptism, and that, if it did refer to\nit, then no doubt, where it can be had, Baptism must be necessary for\nus, in order that we may \"enter into the kingdom of God;\" 2ndly, that\nthe _promise_ is as sure as the _warning_; and, 3rdly, that the terms of\nthe text are _unexceptional_, that they refer to _all mankind_ without\nany exception whatever, men, women, and children. In speaking of these\ndifferent subjects, of course he had to meet the various objections\nwhich Dissenters are used to adduce; but on all these points it was not\nvery difficult to satisfy the mind of one who had already freed himself\nfrom the trammels of prejudice, and was earnestly seeking for the\n_truth_.\n\nOn the following Sunday afternoon therefore, after the second lesson,\nMr. Dole presented himself, with his chosen witnesses, at the Font of\nSt. Catherine's. The service was a very solemn one, and all the\ncongregation evidently took the greatest interest in it. Mr. Dole made\nthe responses in a firm manly voice, its very tone seemed to say, \"This\nis the result of my deep and honest conviction; I have been wrong, and I\nam not ashamed to say so before all those who are here present, from\nwhom I have so long been separated, but who are henceforth my brethren\nin Christ.\" And then for the first time, he quietly and calmly took his\nplace on a bench at the west end of the building--a sincere member of\nthe Christian Church.\n\nIt was natural that the Squire and Vicar should have some conversation\nafter service on an event of so much importance in the village as was\nthis. They both foretold, and rightly, the downfall of the little\nvillage \"Bethel\" as soon as its chief supporter had left it.\n\nIts former attendants came back to the Church one by one, till at length\nthe owner of the building, finding no prospect of receiving his rent,\nclosed the \"Meeting,\" and appropriated it to another purpose.\n\nThe Vicar and Squire were standing near the Font, and the conversation\ntook its rise from the object before them.\n\n\"How often, Mr. Vicar, we find these old Norman Fonts preserved, when\nthere is hardly another bit of masonry remaining in the church of the\nsame date.\"\n\n\"Yes; and it is remarkable it should be so, considering the exposed part\nof the church in which they are placed, and the perishable stone of\nwhich they are not unfrequently composed; besides which, the carvings\nupon them are often of so mysterious and grotesque a character as\nnaturally to excite the wrath of the Puritan fanatics who so\nrelentlessly destroyed the beauty of our Houses of God, and 'brake down\nall the carved work thereof with axes and hammers.'\n\n\"It is very interesting to watch the progress of architectural changes\nas delineated on Fonts. Each period of ecclesiastical architecture, as\nwell in its general features as in its details, is abundantly\nillustrated by the carvings and mouldings to be found on Fonts. The\nearly Fonts were with few exceptions made of stone. Marble was seldom\nused till in comparatively recent times. Some of the early Fonts had a\nsolid leaden bowl, placed on a stone base[72]; I have never seen but one\nancient wooden Font[73]; that was placed on a stone base of the Norman\nperiod, but was itself no doubt much later. The sculpture on very\nancient Fonts, as well as other church carving of the time, sometimes\nborrowed its symbolism from the heathen mythology which preceded\nit[74].\"\n\nConstance Acres, who had been hitherto a quiet listener, here asked Mr.\nAmbrose why the Font was always placed near the door of the church.\n\n\"It's a natural inquiry, my dear, for one of your age,\" said the Vicar,\n\"but the reason is evident. Its position there, at the entrance of the\nmaterial fabric, fitly represents _Baptism_ as the outward form of\nadmission into the Christian Church. The Font, too, thus placed, should\never remind us, as we enter the church, of the vows and promises made in\nour name when first we were brought in our helpless infancy to be\npresented to God, and to be made members of Christ through the grace of\nour second birth. If people would only accustom themselves to associate\nsuch thoughts with the baptismal Font, then just a glance at it as they\ncome into the church would be enough to solemnize their minds, and help\nto fit them for the sacred services in which they are about to take a\npart. It was once the custom, Constance, to place what were called\n_stoups_, at the entrances to our churches, and there are still remains\nof them at the doors of many old churches. These were small basins, made\nof stone, for the purpose of holding water, which--like the water in the\nFont--was consecrated by the priest. When persons came into the church,\nthey dipped a finger in the basin, and crossed their forehead with the\nwater, just as the priest now crosses the brow of the person who has\nbeen baptized. The _forehead_, you know, is always regarded as the seat\nof _shame_ or _courage_[75]; and so the person, when baptized, is signed\nwith 'the sign of the _Cross_, in token that hereafter he shall _not be\nashamed_ to confess the faith of _Christ crucified_.' The old custom of\nfrequent crossing with holy water has now for a long time been\ndiscontinued by us, the practice was regarded by many as superstitious,\nnor does there appear to be authority for it in the Primitive Church.\nThe same motive which prompted the use of the _stoup_, however, still\ninduces some persons to use the sign of the Cross on entering a church:\nI do not myself do so; not that I see any harm in the practice in\nitself, as it is intended to remind persons of the Sacred Presence to\nwhich they are about to enter, and to drive away worldly thoughts by\nthis memento of the crucifixion of their Lord; but I think it is\nbetter, in my own case, as some would be offended by it, to try to\naccomplish this right object by other means.\"\n\n\"People's minds have very much changed in late years respecting the use\nof the Cross,\" said Mr. Acres. \"A few years ago not only was the sign of\nthe Cross in baptism considered superstitious, but it was considered\neven wrong to use it in church architecture, or as an ornament within\nthe church, or as a part of a memorial in the churchyard; there are few\nnow, I suppose, who regard such use of the sacred symbol as\nsuperstitious. I was in a bookseller's shop the other day when a\n'Baptist' preacher came in to purchase a Prayer Book to present to a\nfriend; the bookseller said to him, 'Of course that will not suit you,\nsir, as it has a Cross upon it.' 'I like the book very much,' was his\nreply; 'and as for the Cross, why the Puritans may object to that if\nthey like, I don't.' But I am of opinion that people are going a little\nin the opposite extreme, and, at least as a personal _ornament_, the\nCross is become too common.\"\n\n\"Why _do_ you fall into the popular error, my good friend,\" said the\nVicar, reprovingly, \"of calling these Anabaptist preachers, _Baptists_?\nSurely they ought to be called any thing rather than _Baptists_, for\nthey make more light of Baptism than any other people who can properly\nbe said to believe in Baptism at all. Do let us call things by their\nproper names;--why, to call them _Baptists_, is almost as bad as to call\nRoman Catholics, _Catholics_, and so to ignore our own claim to be\nmembers of the Christian Church, because we allow them a name which\nwould imply that _they_ are the _only_ Church in the world. I need not\ntell you that the word ANA_baptist_[76] exactly expresses what they are,\nnamely, they who _baptize a second time_ those who have already been\nbaptized in infancy. The term 'Baptist' is far more applicable to Church\npeople than to them.\"\n\n\"I see, I deserve your rebuke: mine is a mistake too often made.\nBy-the-bye, Mr. Vicar, I was very pleased to hear your reply to Mr.\nDole, when he inquired what was the _fee_ to be paid for his baptism. I\nheard you tell him that the sacraments of the Church were always\n_free_.\"\n\n\"Yes, certainly I did; and I confess I cannot understand how any one can\ndare, in these days, to demand a fee for Baptism; the claim is as\n_illegal_ as it is _unchristian_, and I believe goes far to make the\npoor take a low view of this holy rite. I wish, too, I could make the\npoor understand that _Baptism_ has nothing to do with _Registration_;\nmany of the most ignorant of them really regard them as the same thing.\nSome of them, too, will persist in thinking that to be _privately\nbaptized_, is to be '_half baptized_.' Of course _they must be\naltogether baptized, or not baptized at all_; but they do not readily\nsee that the _baptism_ is complete, though the _reception into the\nChurch_ is not perfected till the service is concluded in the face of\nthe congregation.\"\n\n\n\n\n_CHAPTER XVI_\n\nTHE PULPIT\n\n\n\"He commanded us to preach unto the people.\"\n\n_Acts_ x. 42\n\n\n \"The pulpit, therefore (and I name it, fill'd\n With solemn awe, that bids me well beware\n With what intent I touch that Holy thing),\n I say the pulpit (in sober awe\n Of its legitimate peculiar powers)\n Must stand acknowledged, while the world shall stand,\n The most important and effectual guard,\n Support and ornament of virtue's cause.\n There stands the messenger of truth: there stands\n The legate of the skies! His theme divine,\n His office sacred, his credentials clear.\n By him the violated law speaks out\n Its thunders; and by him, in strains as sweet\n As angels are, the Gospel whispers peace.\"\n\n COWPER.\n\n\nIllustration: Stone Pulpit in Dartmouth Church\n\n\n\n\nTHE PULPIT\n\n\n\"I suppose we must not expect you to conform to all our usages at first,\nMr. Dole,\" said Mr. Acres, as they walked out of the churchyard one\nSunday, after the Afternoon Service; \"but no doubt you will soon see the\nfitness of our several forms and ceremonies, and then you will do as we\ndo. Of course these things are--compared with others--of no great\nimportance; but still it is better, even in small matters, to avoid\ndifferences in our mode of worship.\"\n\n\"Yes, that is so, sir; but you must give me time, and I shall be glad if\nyou will tell me what you have specially noticed in my manner different\nfrom others? I don't wish to seem particular.\"\n\n\"Well, to be candid then, Mr. Dole, it seems strange to us to see a man\nwhen he comes into church _stand up_ and say his prayers in his _hat_,\ninstead of reverently _kneeling down_.\"\n\n\"I never thought of that before, but I dare say it does; but then you\nknow, sir, that is our way at the _meeting_. I see, however, that it is\nmuch more proper in God's house to obey the precept of His Holy Word,\nand 'fall low on our knees before His footstool.'\"\n\n\"Then for the same reason you will, I am sure, see that, instead of\n_sitting_ during the other prayers, as I notice you do, it is proper to\n_kneel_ at those times too. You will find that all in our church, from\nthe oldest to the youngest, except poor Old Reynolds and Tom Barham (who\nare too infirm to kneel), do so. Then again, when the _Creed_ is said, I\nsee you do sometimes stand up, but not always; and I notice you don't\nturn to the _East_, as all the rest of the congregation do.\"\n\n\"No, I confess I don't do that. I like the idea of repeating our\nConfession of Faith whenever we meet at church: I suppose the want of\nthis practice is one reason why the different leading sects of\nDissenters are constantly being broken up into fresh divisions. Yes,\nthere is certainly something very supporting to a Christian in so\ndeclaring with the Church every where, his belief in the great doctrines\nof their common Faith; but the fact is, I have some scruples about\nturning to the East at that time. Even old Mrs. Tubbs, who, you know, is\na Church-woman, says she thinks it is superstitious.\"\n\n\"All I can say, then, is, that Mrs. Tubbs doesn't know the meaning of\nthe word she uses; and in this she is like a great many more people who\nthink themselves very wise about these matters. Now, my good friend,\nwhen you next come to church, stand up with the rest, and turn to the\nEast as the others do, and first say to yourself some such words as\nthese:--'We all _stand_, to signify that we are _not ashamed_ of our\nBelief, and that, if need be, we will manfully defend it. We all _turn\nin one direction_, to signify that we all hold _one and the same faith_.\nWe all turn to the _East_, because there in the east of our churches\nevery thing reminds us of the presence of Him in whom we profess our\nbelief; because there, in remembrance of Him, we celebrate the highest\nand most sacred mysteries of our Faith; and because the East specially\nreminds us of the holy life, the Divine teaching, the miracles, the\nsuffering, the death of our Blessed Lord--\"the _Sun_ of Righteousness,\"\n\"the _Day-spring_ from on high\"--_in the East_[77].' Do this, Mr. Dole,\nand you will never again be disposed to regard this custom as\nsuperstitious. Why, some people even think it is superstitious to bend\nthe head reverently at the name of Jesus, when it is mentioned in the\nCreeds and the other parts of the Service.\"\n\n\"I don't think so, though once I did. Since I have considered more about\nit, it has seemed to me that some outward show of reverence at the\nmention of the Sacred Name is quite Scriptural[78]. But as I am yet only\na learner about these outward forms, will you kindly tell me, sir,\nwhether there is any rule of the Church about this custom?\"\n\n\"The Vicar will be able to answer that better than I can.\"\n\n\"I could not help overhearing our friend's question,\" said Mr. Ambrose,\n\"as I was close behind you, and I will answer it at once. The rule of\nour Church is very plain on this point; it is this: 'All manner of\npersons present shall reverently kneel upon their knees, when the\ngeneral Confession, Litany, and other prayers are read; and shall stand\nup at the saying of the Belief, according to the rules in that behalf\nprescribed in the Book of Common Prayer; and likewise, when in time of\nDivine Service the Lord Jesus shall be mentioned, due and lowly\nreverence shall be done by all persons present, as it hath been\naccustomed: testifying, by these outward ceremonies and gestures, their\ninward humility, Christian resolution, and due acknowledgment that the\nLord Jesus Christ, the true eternal Son of God, is the only Saviour of\nthe world[79].'\"\n\n\"Thank you, Mr. Ambrose, nothing could be plainer, or more reasonable\nthan that direction; but, you see, I have for so many years _sat under_\nMr. Scole, who never taught us any thing of this sort, that you will\nforgive me if I seem a little more ignorant than those who have been all\nthe time _sitting under_ you.\"\n\n\"What do you mean by 'sitting under,' my friend?\" said the Vicar, very\ninnocently.\n\n\"I mean _hearing you preach_,\" was Mr. Dole's reply. \"It's a curious\nexpression, now I come to think about it.\"\n\n\"It certainly is so, and the meaning of it is not very clear. But in our\nChurch we don't talk about _sitting under_, or _hearing_ this or that\npreacher. We simply say we attend this or that church, as the case may\nbe. And the reason is, that--although very important in its proper\nplace--we consider preaching of little moment (and the preacher of far\nless), when compared with the other objects of Christian\nworship,--_Prayer_ and _Praise_. We look upon God's House as\npre-eminently 'a House of Prayer.'\"\n\n\"Well, I do think we used to make too much of the sermon at the meeting;\nand I remember all our conversation afterwards was about the sermon or\nthe preacher. One Sunday we had a young gent. from London, Mr. Sweetly,\nto preach, and our people never ceased to talk about him. I believe,\nhowever, none of them recollected a word he said; but they could\nremember well enough 'his lovely voice,' and 'how nice he looked in his\nbeautiful black silk gown' (you know, sir, our people always preach in\nblack gowns), 'and those charming lavender gloves! and then the sweetest\nembroidered white lawn pocket-handkerchief imaginable!' It had just been\npresented to him, he told me, by a young lady--Miss Angelina\nGushing--who sat under him at his London meeting-house. I never was a\npreacher-worshipper myself, sir.\"\n\n\"Save me from the man with the _lavender gloves and the white\nembroidered pocket-handkerchief_, I say,\" said Mr. Acres. \"If there is\none thing in nature I shrink from more than another, it is a _fop_, and\na _fop_ in the pulpit is beyond endurance.\"\n\n\"A most offensive person, indeed,\" said the Vicar, \"and one that brings\ngreat discredit upon the ministry; but it can be no matter of surprise\nthat men sometimes a little over-estimate themselves in some of our\nfashionable towns, where the people (specially the ladies) flock to\n_hear_ 'dear' Mr. Somebody, and so abundantly supply him with those\narticles of personal furniture which are usually the reward of a popular\npreacher. It is not so very long ago that in our own church every thing\nwas made to give way to the sermon. You remember, Mr. Acres, when many\nof the people in St. Catherine's used to sit and sleep through the\nprayers[80], and just wake up for the sermon. Then the pulpit was every\nthing, and little else could be seen by the people; the galleries were\nbuilt so that the people might sit and see the preacher, and the pews\nwere likewise built up only with a view to sitting comfortable during\nthe sermon. It is all different now, I am thankful to say, and the\npulpit takes once more its old and appropriate position. But we must\ntake care not to esteem too lightly the office of the preacher, in our\ncontempt for one who preaches merely to _please the people_. To 'preach\nthe Word' is one of the solemn duties laid upon us at our ordination;\nand woe be to us if we neglect to do so earnestly and faithfully!\"\n\n\n\n\n_CHAPTER XVII_\n\nTHE PULPIT\n\n\n\"Because the preacher was wise, he still taught the people knowledge;\nyea, he gave good heed, and sought out, and set in order many proverbs.\"\n\nEccles. xii. 9.\n\n\n \"Unskilful he to fawn, or seek for power,\n By doctrines fashion'd to the varying hour;\n Far other aims his heart had learn'd to prize,\n More bent to raise the wretched than to rise.\n\n * * * * *\n\n At church, with meek and unaffected grace,\n His looks adorn'd the venerable place;\n Truth from his lips prevail'd with double sway,\n And fools, who came to scoff, remain'd to pray.\"\n\n GOLDSMITH'S _Country Parson_.\n\n\n \"Resort to sermons, but to prayers most:\n Praying's the end of preaching.\"\n\n GEORGE HERBERT.\n\n\nIllustration: Church of St. Mary, Henley-on-Thames\n\n\n\n\nTHE PULPIT\n\n\nIllustration: Stone Pulpit in North Kilworth Church\n\n\"It's curious to note,\" continued the Vicar, \"how the\nPulpit and the Gallery have kept company in rising higher and higher. At\nfirst the pulpit was placed at a moderate height above the congregation,\nand then the church improvers (?) were usually contented with erecting a\nsmall low gallery at the west end of the church[81]. It is true, that\nwas bad enough; for in order to construct it, it was nearly always\nthought necessary to fill in the tower arch and to hide the western\nwindow--often the most beautiful features in the church; and then the\norgan was taken up into this gallery, and the singers followed it; and\nnothing, you know, could be more inconvenient than that those who help\nto _lead_ the services of the Church should be _behind_ those they\nprofess to lead. But when people had once tasted the luxury of sitting\nin a church gallery, the demand for it rapidly increased, and my Lady\nPride, who had very comfortable crimson-cushioned seats in her box at\nthe theatre, could not be content without an equally comfortable and\nelegant _box_ in the gallery at her church, where she could see all the\npeople quite as well as in her box at the theatre, and had such a good\nview of the pulpit and its occupant, that, with a good opera-glass, she\ncould even read the manuscript from which the clergyman was preaching.\nAs the taste spread, of course galleries multiplied, and not only\nextended in a lateral direction over all available parts of the church,\nbut sometimes mounted up one above another (as witness many of our\nLondon churches) till they almost touched the very roof. Indeed, to\nbuild a new gallery was one of the most popular things a local magnate\ncould do; and even Members of Parliament, who desired to make sure of\ntheir next election, could hardly adopt better means for recommending\nthemselves to their constituents than by disfiguring their church with\none of these hideous structures, and recording the same on some\nconspicuous part of the church[82]. But worse still; these galleries\nwere sometimes even still more nearly connected with the political\nparties of the day. I know one church[83]--and that is not the only\ninstance--in which are galleries, having complete opera-boxes, furnished\nwith luxurious chairs, stoves, &c., and every box is a two-pound\nfreehold, and the boxes are, from time to time, advertised for sale,\nwith the inviting recommendation that each one _gives a vote for the\ncounty_. One great piece of presumptuous vanity connected with these\ngalleries, is the numberless instances in which the names of\nchurchwardens, that otherwise would have been unknown to fame, have been\nemblazoned upon them.\"\n\n\"You remember, no doubt,\" said Mr. Acres, \"the inscription, in large\ngilt letters, that covered the front of our old gallery--'This gallery\nwas erected A.D. 1716, Thomas Grubb and Matthew Stokes, Churchwardens;\nenlarged, and newly painted and ornamented, A.D. 1760, Peter Jenks and\nSamuel Styles, Churchwardens.' I believe I have read that inscription\nthousands of times, and those names used even to haunt me in my dreams.\nHad those churchwardens been four of the greatest saints in the\ncalendar, it would have been gross impiety to emblazon their names so\nconspicuously as thus to force them upon one's notice during the whole\nservice. If, however, tradition does not speak falsely of them, those\nmen were by no means too correct either in their private life or in\ntheir parish accounts. But let them be never so good, people who go to\nchurch for Christian worship, don't wish to have the names and exploits\nof these worthy or unworthy men staring them in the face every moment\nthey are there. But I beg your pardon, Mr. Vicar, I interrupted you when\nyou were speaking of the pulpit.\"\n\n\"Well, you know, when the gallery had reached the ceiling, it could go\nno higher; but then its upper tenants could no longer see the preacher.\nSo the pulpit rose too, and, to enable all to see it, sometimes took its\nplace just in front of the altar, so as completely to hide that from\nmost of the congregation; nay, I have seen it even over the altar\nitself[84]. Then the prayer-desk came climbing up after the pulpit; and\nthen the clerk's desk came creeping up below them, till that, too,\nbecame one of the most conspicuous and important objects of the church.\nThus the three together grew into that clumsy, unsightly mass which has\nbeen not inaptly called the _Three Decker_!\"\n\n\"Ah, I shall never forget poor old Mowforth's perplexity,\" said Mr.\nAcres, \"when he looked about for his peculiar box in our restored\nchurch. First he looked doubtingly at your prayer-desk; then he examined\nthe lectern from which you read the lessons; then he looked with some\nfaint hope at the pulpit; at last he came to me, and said, 'Please, sir,\nwhich of these is to be my place?' and his look of dismay was\nindescribable when I told him that, as you intended that henceforth the\nchoir should lead the responses, he would be absorbed in the\ncongregation, and would in future be able to take his place with the\nrest of his family. But the man is a sensible fellow, and he confessed\nto me the other day that he considers the new arrangement a great\nimprovement, and wonders that the people could have so long endured the\nduet service in which only the voices of the parson and himself could be\nheard. But we have again wandered a little from our subject. Let us go\nback to the pulpit; it must have a history of its own, like every other\npart of the church. Will you kindly enlighten me and our friend here on\nthe subject? for it must be one of much interest to us both.\"\n\n\"Well--to begin at the beginning--I suppose we must look for the origin\nof our pulpits in the 'brazen scaffold' which Solomon set 'in the midst\nof the Temple[85],' and the 'pulpit of wood[86]' from which Ezra read\nthe Book of the Law.\n\n\"There are in this country many very beautiful examples of ancient\npulpits; these are, with but very few exceptions, constructed of\n_stone_, and very generally of the same date as the church itself.\nSometimes they were erected outside the church[87], but usually in the\nplace where we are still accustomed to see them. Sometimes stone pulpits\nwere quite separate buildings, erected in some much frequented place,\nusually near a cathedral or other church[88]. 'In the ancient rites of\nDurham there is mention of a \"fine _iron_ pulpit, with iron rails to\nsupport the monks in going up, of whom one did preach every holiday and\nSunday at one o'clock in the afternoon.\" This was situated in the\nGalilee, or western division of the church, which was open to the public\neven when the entrance to the rest of the church was interdicted[89].'\nAlthough the most beautiful pulpits, both ancient and modern, are of\nstone--many of them being richly carved and inlaid with costly\nmarbles--yet the greater number of the more modern pulpits are made of\nwood[90]. By an injunction of Queen Elizabeth in 1559, pulpits were\nordered to be erected in all churches[91], and by a canon of 1663 it was\nordered that pulpits should be placed in all the churches of the country\nnot already provided with them. The pulpits then erected were in almost\nevery case made of wood, and their pattern has since then been\ngenerally, though by no means universally, followed.\n\n\"A curious appendage to the pulpit sometimes found is the horologium, or\nhour-glass. Whether this was placed there for the information of the\ncongregation as to the progress of the hour, or to teach them its own\nsolemn moral, or as a guide to the preacher respecting the length of his\ndiscourse[92], I cannot say. Another adjunct to the pulpit is the\nsounding-board, or, as it should rather be called, the _lid_ or _cover_\nof the pulpit; and a thing more useless, and usually more ugly, one\ncannot conceive[93]. It certainly always seems to me rather to impede\nthe sound of my voice than to assist it; and then it has, to say the\nleast, a most uncomfortable appearance; and though I never heard of the\naccident really happening, yet it always appears to me to be on the\npoint of falling and crushing the poor preacher below it. It is not,\nhowever, difficult to trace the origin of these covers to the pulpit;\nthey were really necessary where the pulpits were _separate\nbuildings_--as at St. Paul's Cross--in order to protect the preacher\nwhen the weather was inclement. At St. Paul's Cross, and at the Cross\nPulpit at Norwich, and probably elsewhere, not only the preacher, but\nalso the audience, were provided with such a shelter[94].\"\n\n\"Will you kindly tell us,\" said Mr. Dole, \"why you discarded the large\nhandsome velvet cushion that was once on your pulpit, and have, instead,\nadopted the embroidered piece of velvet which now hangs in front of the\npulpit?\"\n\n\"Well, as a matter of taste, I think you will agree with me that the\npresent beautiful frontal, with its richly-embroidered cross, is an\nimprovement upon the old cushion. But I discarded the old big\n_pillow_--for such, indeed, it was--not only because it was unsightly,\nbut also because it was useless, for my head is not so much more tender\nthan that of other persons, that I, any more than they, should require a\npillow to rest it on during my private devotions; and as I am not\naccustomed to perform the part of a mountebank in the pulpit, or, as\nsome say, to use much _action_ when preaching, I need no such protection\nin order to preserve my limbs safe and sound. But, besides this, there\nis a manifest objection to these huge cushions; undoubtedly they tend to\nimpede the sound of the preacher's voice[95]; so I was very glad to get\nrid of your handsome cushion, and adopt our more convenient and more\nbeautiful pulpit frontal.\"\n\n\"I often think,\" said Mr. Acres, \"if the old pulpits could speak, what a\nstrange account they would give of the various preachers that have\noccupied them. Take our own old stone pulpit, for instance. In early\ntimes, of course, there were only sermons at long intervals, perhaps\noften dependent upon the occasional visits of some old preaching friar.\nAt length there came the quaint old Homilies of the Church; then there\ncame an interruption to all true religion and order, and the old pulpit\npoured forth the mad ravings of the fanatical Puritans who got\npossession of it. Now and then came a noisy soldier to hold forth, and\nthere was--as our old registers show--the _Reverend_ Ebenezer Bradshaw,\nthe Presbyterian, who left his snuff and tobacco shop to enlighten our\npoor benighted people; next came the _Reverend_ Obadiah Brent, late of\nthe 'Green Dragon,' the Independent preacher; and then the _Reverend_\nJabez Zanchy, the baker of Starchcombe, the Anabaptist preacher[96];\nthen there was a century of long learned essays freely interspersed with\nGreek and Latin, so that, if the prayers were said in a language\n'understanded of the people,' the sermon certainly was not. Following\nupon this came what we may call the _muscular_ style of\npreaching--usually extempore--requiring the pillows of which you have\nbeen speaking to save the knuckles of the preacher from entire\ndemolition. Thank God, amid these many changes, there have always been\nsome good men to be found in our pulpits; but, for my part, I like the\nquiet, sober, persuasive style, which--saving your presence, Mr.\nVicar--I am thankful to say, characterizes the sermons at St.\nCatherine's. I think sermons cannot be too _practical_; and, whilst they\nshould be addressed both to the heart and the intellect, they should\nmost of all be designed to touch the _heart_.\"\n\n\n\n\n_CHAPTER XVIII_\n\nTHE NAVE\n\n\n\"My brethren, have not the faith of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Lord of\nGlory, with respect of persons.\"\n\nS. James ii. 1.\n\n\n \"At length a generation more refined\n Improved the simple plan....\n And o'er the seat, with plenteous wadding stuff'd,\n Induced a splendid cover, green and blue,\n Yellow and red, of tapestry richly wrought,\n And woven close, or needlework sublime.\"\n\n COWPER.\n\n\nIllustration: St. Mary's Church, Sherborne\n\n\n\n\nTHE NAVE\n\n\n\"Ah, Mr. Beeland, I'm so glad to see you!\" said the Vicar, as, on\nleaving the church, he met his neighbour the newly-appointed Vicar of\nDroneworth. \"I have been much grieved to hear of the sad opposition you\nhave had to encounter in restoring your fine old church; but this was\nsure to be the case in a parish like yours, which has been so long\nneglected; indeed it must be so, more or less, in every parish, so long\nas there are people who honour themselves much more than they honour\nGod; and such, I suppose, there will be till the end of the world. You\nmay be sure, my friend, the woe of universal commendation[97] never yet\nfell upon any _church restorer_.\"\n\n\"Never, certainly. But what makes our position often so difficult and so\npainful is the fact that, whilst we are fully sensible of the rectitude\nof our own course, we cannot help, to some extent, sympathizing in the\nfeelings of those who blame us. For instance, in almost every case of\nchurch restoration it is necessary to disturb a large number of human\nbones, and yet we can but sympathize in that feeling of respect for the\ndeparted, which sometimes expresses itself in the most strenuous\nopposition to any work involving this painful necessity. Then, you see,\nthere is the rooting up of long-cherished associations. We have a case\nin point close at hand. There's the grand old church of Rainsborough\nwill be left in its miserable condition so long as the present Vicar\nlives, and for no other reason than this:--ten years since he lost a\nfavourite daughter, and she had always been accustomed to sit in one\nparticular corner of their large pew.\" Now the Vicar fears (and no doubt\njustly) that should the church be altered, the old pew with its fond\nassociations would be swept away--and so the church will never be\nimproved as long as he lives[98]. We must respect the old man's tender\nlove for the spot sacred to the memory of his dear child, yet we plainly\nsee it is all wrong that for the sake of the private feelings (however\npraiseworthy) of any one person, God's house should remain in a state of\nneglect, and the poor should be uncared for therein. This, however, is\nan oft-told tale. But most of all, we have to contend against _wounded\npride_ in its most cherished strong-hold--alas!--the Church of God; and\nthe enemy is all the more fierce because it is prostrate.\n\n\"My two great opponents, Sir John Adamley and Mr. Parvener, are to meet\nme this evening, and I am come to ask you and Mr. Acres to walk back\nwith me to Droneworth, so that I may have the benefit of your support.\nYou see these two gentlemen had pews in the nave of our church, lined,\ncushioned, and carpeted in dazzling crimson; each pew was as large as a\ngood-sized room, and the two occupied nearly half the nave. Mr. Parvener\nwas generally at church once on a Sunday, and then he sat not only in\nluxurious ease, but also in solitary dignity. Sir John never came to\nchurch, as there was some old feud respecting the right owner of his\npew; but the door was always locked, and a canvas cover was stretched\nover the top. These precautions, however, failed to keep out an\noccasional intruder, and at last the door was securely _nailed up_[99].\nThe worst of it was, that all this time there was not a seat in the\nchurch which a poor man could occupy with any chance of either seeing or\nhearing the ministering Priest. Now people talk about _proper_\ndistinctions in church between the high and the low, and we sometimes\nhear much about old ancestral pews. Believe me, it's all nonsense, my\ndear sir; the distinction is _solely between riches and poverty_. If a\nman has plenty of money, he may (or rather, till lately he might)\nsecure the biggest pew in England; and if he has not money, though he\nbe entitled to quarter the royal arms on his escutcheon, he will get no\npew at all. Mr. Parvener is an exact instance of this. But a few years\nsince he was working for half-a-crown a day. No sooner did he become\nwealthy than he obtained a large pew at our church, whilst its former\nowner, whose fall had been as complete and rapid as was the rise of his\nsuccessor, was driven to a remote corner of the church allotted to\ndegraded poverty.\"\n\nThe walk to Droneworth was soon accomplished, but the Rector with his\ntwo friends only reached the Parsonage a few moments before the arrival\nof the two aggrieved parishioners. It was evident from the first\ngreeting that they had come in no friendly spirit. But few words passed\nbefore Sir John came direct to the object of the interview.\n\n\"The purpose of our visit,\" said Sir John, \"you are aware, is to protest\nagainst the removal of our pews at church, and to declare our\ndetermination to have them replaced if it is possible.\"\n\n\"But, gentlemen, you are aware that we have provided good accommodation\nfor you in the restored church,\" replied the Vicar.\n\n\"Good accommodation, sir!\" exclaimed Sir John. \"Why, you have given us\nnothing but low wooden benches to sit upon; and, to add to the insult,\nsir, there is not the semblance of a _door_; so that our devotions may\nat any time be interrupted by the presence of an inferior. Why, sir, the\nvery labourers, who earn their half-crown a day, have seats in the\nchurch just as good as ours!\"\n\nThe last sentence made poor Mr. Parvener writhe a little; and that\nindeed was its real intention, for the two neighbours had, in truth,\nlittle love for each other. The words, however, accomplished another and\na better purpose; they broke up at once any thing like united action on\nthe part of the opposition.\n\n\"Let me ask you, gentlemen, a very simple question,\" said the Vicar.\n\"_Why should not_ the labourer have as good a place in God's house as\nyourselves?\"\n\n\"You might as well ask,\" said the Baronet, \"why they should not have as\ngood houses as we have.\"\n\n\"The cases are in no way similar. You live in better houses than the\npoor, simply because your worldly means enable you to do so; but I have\nyet to be taught that in the Church wealth is to be exalted and poverty\ndegraded. No, Sir John, be sure this distinction is out of place\n_there_. We go to church to _worship_ and to _learn_, and if favour is\nshown to any class, no doubt it should be to the ignorant and the poor;\nbut this is a matter on which we are not left to our own judgment. There\nare not many instructions in our Bibles as to the manner of arranging\nour churches, but here the direction is plain and unmistakable.\"\n\n\"Indeed, sir! I had no idea that any thing about church seats was to be\nfound in the Bible.\"\n\n\"Oh, but indeed there is. The passage to which I refer is in St. James'\nEpistle; and it is this: '_My brethren, have not the faith of our Lord\nJesus Christ, the Lord of Glory, with respect of persons. For if there\ncome unto your assembly a man with a gold ring, in goodly apparel, and\nthere come in also a poor man in vile raiment; and ye have respect to\nhim that weareth the gay clothing, and say unto him, Sit thou here in a\ngood place; and say to the poor, Stand thou there, or sit here under my\nfootstool: are ye not then partial in yourselves, and are become judges\nof evil thoughts[100]?_'\"\n\n\"If those words are in the Bible, I must confess the Bible is against\nme; but I had no idea that they were there.\"\n\n\"I assure you they are the exact words of Holy Scripture.\"\n\n\"It's clear enough to me,\" interposed Mr. Parvener, \"that the labourer\nought to have as good a place at church as the lord. I don't think the\nchurch is the place to show off aristocratic pride. Why, for that\nmatter, there's many a man that doesn't know who was his grandfather\ndoing more for the glory of God and the good of his fellow-creatures\nthan your grandest aristocrats.\" This was intended as a counter-thrust,\nand it created a wider breach in the enemy's camp. \"But,\" continued he,\n\"I don't see why, if all have good places in the church, we should not\nmake our own seats as comfortable as we can.\"\n\n\"Ah, but there comes in just what St. James tells us we ought to keep\nout: the distinction between _riches and poverty_, distinctions which\namong our fellow-men have their advantages, but not before God in His\nhouse. Just hear what St. James says again: 'Hearken, my beloved\nbrethren, Hath not God chosen the poor of this world rich in faith, and\nheirs of the kingdom which He hath promised to them that love Him? But\nye have despised the poor[101].' I was much struck with a sermon I heard\nthe other day on this subject. The preacher said, 'If our Lord Jesus\nChrist were to enter some of our churches just as He went to the temple\nat Jerusalem, do you think He would take His seat in the luxuriously\nfurnished pew of the rich, or in the open bench of the poor[102]?' Now,\nlet me ask you too, Mr. Parvener (for this is, after all, the sum and\nsubstance of the matter), do you think that He 'who was rich, yet for\nour sakes became poor[103],' and whose life was a perfect pattern of\n_humility_, would sanction the distinctions which either pride of\nstation, or pride of riches, would create in the House of Prayer?\"\n\n\"Well, sir, I must say that's a solemn question, and it sets one\na-thinking more than I have thought before about this.\"\n\n\"But, Mr. Beeland,\" said Sir John, interrupting, for he saw the ground\nof his arguments was slipping from under him, \"you will acknowledge that\nthese open benches in church are a _novelty_, and you often talk to us\nabout keeping to the _old paths_. Now, here you are teaching us to\nstrike out a new way altogether. I wish I knew something more than I do\nabout the history of these pews.\"\n\n\"I anticipated some such remark from you, and knowing that my friend Mr.\nAmbrose is more learned than I am in all these subjects, I induced him\nto join us this evening, and if he will kindly give us the benefit of\nhis information, he will, I am sure, convince you that _pews, and not\nbenches, are the modern innovation_.\"\n\n\"If you can have patience to listen to me,\" said the Vicar of St.\nCatherine's, \"I will gladly give you the history of pews, as far I know\nit.\"\n\n\n\n\n_CHAPTER XIX_\n\nTHE NAVE\n\n\n\"Take theses things hence; make not My Father's house a house of\nmerchandise.\"\n\nJohn ii. 16.\n\n\n \"Not raised in nice proportions was the pile,\n But large and massy; for duration built;\n With pillars crowded, and the roof upheld\n By naked rafters intricately cross'd,\n Like leafless underboughs, 'mid some thick grove,\n All wither'd by the depth of shade above,\n ... The floor\n Of nave and aisle, in unpretending guise,\n Was occupied by oaken benches ranged\n In seemly rows.\"\n\n WORDSWORTH.\n\n\nIllustration: All Saints' Church, Bradford\n\n\n\n\nTHE NAVE\n\n\n\"In order to trace the history of pews[104] to their first source, I\nmust, as Mr. Beeland has hinted, go back to a time when pews, as we now\nsee them, had never been thought of. It is pretty certain that the first\nseats in churches were stone benches placed round the north, south, and\nwest walls, portions of which are still remaining in many old\nchurches[105]. In some ancient churches in Ireland the stone bench has\nalso been found adjoining the _eastern_ wall, the altar being placed a\nlittle distance before it. In those early times people were far less\nself-indulgent than at present in God's House, and the usual custom was\nto stand or kneel during the whole service. The first wooden seats were\nsmall stools, each intended to seat one person, and placed in the nave\nas suited the convenience of each occupier. Then came plain benches, and\nnext, benches with backs to them. The priest's _reading-pew_ was\nprobably the origin of all pews. They seem to have been unknown in any\nform till the end of the thirteenth century, but the earliest record we\nhave of a pew is 1602[106]. Next to the 'reading-pew' came the 'bride's\npew[107],' the 'churching-pew,' and the 'churchwarden's pew.' In the\nnave of Little Berningham Church, Norfolk, is a pew erected by a\nshepherd; a skeleton carved in wood is fixed at the south-west corner of\nit, and these lines are carved on the pew:--\n\n 'For couples join'd in wedlock; and my friend\n That stranger is: this seat I did intend,\n But at the coste and charge of Stephen Crosbee.\n All you that do this place pass by,\n As you are now, even so was I--\n Remember death, for you must dye,\n And as I am, soe shall you be.\n\n 'Anno Domini, 1640[108].'\n\nThe general adoption of pews began with Puritanism, and with its\nincrease they too grew in width and stature. First of all, people were\nsatisfied with the uniform arrangement and space of the old oak benches,\nonly erecting on the top of them an ugly and useless panelling of deal.\nThis was bad enough, but worse soon followed; and, to make the seats\nmore luxurious, first one bench was taken away, and the _two benches_\nmade _one pew_; then two were removed, then three, till at last it\nrequired the removal of _six benches_, which formerly would accommodate\nthirty persons, to make _one pew_ to accommodate two or three. Now,\neither men are giants in these days and were pigmies in those days, or\nelse the pride and luxury of man claim a prominence now in God's House,\nwhich was quite unknown then. I will ask either of you, gentlemen, to\ndecide which is the true explanation.\"\n\n\"I fear it must be against ourselves,\" said Mr. Parvener.\n\n\"I fear so, indeed[109]. But now let me explain to you more fully what\nare the real evils of this wretched pew system. And first, as to the\n_private pew_--for, besides sharing in the evils of _all_ the rest, _it_\nhas some peculiarly its own. Of these, the _pride_ it fosters, and the\n'_respect of persons_,' so severely condemned by St. James, are the\nworst. My dear sir, I assure you it has often made my blood boil to see\nsome poor old man with his venerable bare head exposed to the cold\ndraught of a neglected part of the church, whilst a young, pampered son\nof fortune has been cushioned up under the stately canopy of his own\npew[110]. Oh, sir, I'm sure you must agree with me that this is\naltogether against the spirit of Christianity! I'm no leveller _out of\nchurch_; the social distinctions must be there kept up; but _in God's\nHouse_ these should have no place at all. Then, surely, the _luxury_ of\nmany of these private pews is altogether inconsistent with the object of\nour meeting in the House of Prayer. It is--as it shows the progress of\nluxury, and its concomitant, effeminacy--a curious circumstance, that\nwhen the custom of having pews in our churches began to spread, they\nwere, by our hardy ancestors, considered as _too great indulgences_, and\nas temptations to repose. Their curtains and bed-furniture, their\n_cushions_ and _sleep_, have, by a long association of ideas, become\nintimately connected. The Puritans thought _pews_ the devil's _baby_, or\n_booby hutches_[111]. I have heard that in America they go even beyond\nus in the luxury of pews, and that in Boston some of them are actually\nlined with _velvet_[112]. I believe that both there and here the private\npew system has done very much, not only to force the poor from the\nChurch, but to drive many of all classes over to dissent.\"\n\n\"I can't see how that can be,\" said the Baronet.\n\nWhy, \"naturally enough, sir, for they find all this the very opposite to\nwhat the Church professes to be and to teach. They see the rich exalted,\nand the poor debased; they find a house of pride, instead of a house of\nprayer.\n\n\"The _exclusiveness_ of this system is one of the most curious as well\nas absurd features in its history. True, the change in our social habits\nhas created a change for the better here; but much of the old temper\nsurvives. You would hardly believe, perhaps, that years ago it was not\nonly considered an impropriety for the squire and the dame to sit in the\nsame pew with any of their inferior fellow-worshippers, but the presence\nof their own children[113] was even considered an indecent intrusion.\nThis was, indeed, ridiculous; but, in truth, the whole system would be\nmonstrously grotesque, were it not so very wicked.\n\n\"There is a curious inscription on an old seat in a church at Whalley,\nwhich seems to throw some light on the early history of private pews; it\nis this:--'My man Shuttleworth, of Hacking, made this form, and here\nwill I sit when I come, and my Cousin Nowell may make one behind me if\nhe please, and my sonne Sherburne shall make one on the other side, and\nMr. Catterall another behind him; and for the residue, the use shall be\nfirst come first speed, and that will make the proud wives of Whalley\nrise betimes to come to church[114].'\n\n\"The first seat thus appropriated was, no doubt, a rude wooden bench;\nbut certain it is, that no sooner were even these claimed as private\nproperty than _quarrelling_ began[115]; and the quarrel has, alas! been\nkept up to our own day. The right to these _faculty pews_, as they are\ncalled, is, however, in most cases very questionable, and often leads to\ncostly law processes[116]. Many sensible men and earnest Churchmen are\ngiving up their supposed right to them, and are contented to take their\nplace in church like _ordinary mortals_. I sincerely trust, gentlemen,\nthis may be your case.\n\n\"Now, let me notice a few of the evils which are common to _all pews_.\nThey tend to destroy the _unity_ and _uniformity_ of common worship,\nwhich forms so grand a feature in our church system. 'They are very\ninconvenient to _kneel_ down in, necessarily oblige some to sit with\ntheir backs to the speaker, and when they rise up, present a scene of\nconfusion, as if they were running their heads against one another[117].\nAs God's House is a House of Praise and Prayer, so before all things the\narrangement there should have reference to the proper _posture_[118] of\npraise and prayer. Then see how these pews shelter and encourage\n_levity_ in God's House. As long ago as the year 1662, a bishop of\nNorwich wrote this satire upon pews: 'There wants nothing but beds to\nhear the Word of God on. We have casements, locks and keys, and\ncushions--I had almost said bolsters and pillows--and for those we love\nthe church. I will not guess what is done within them: who sits, stands,\nor lies asleep at prayers, communion, &c.; but this, I dare say, _they\nare either to hide some vice or to proclaim one_[119].' I will only\nmention one more objection to pews: they harbour dust and dirt[120], and\notherwise disfigure the beauty of our churches.\"\n\n\"Well, Mr. Ambrose, I must confess myself brought to the same opinion as\nyourself,\" said Sir John, \"and the reformation of the evil may commence\nat Droneworth to-morrow without any obstacle whatever from me.\"\n\n\"Nor yet from me,\" rejoined Mr. Parvener: \"I certainly never heard the\ncase fairly stated before, and now I have, I own I'm convinced.\"\n\n\"Heartily glad, I'm sure, my friend here must be to part with the old\n_half empty packing-cases_, and to see proper benches in their place.\nAnd as you have been kind enough to listen to me so far, I will just say\na few more words to explain the two desks which the Vicar has placed in\nthe nave of your church, and of which I heard you had disapproved. One\nis the _Litany-desk_, or _faldstool_[121],--as it is called in the\nCoronation Service. The Litany is a very solemn, penitential service,\nand from very early times it has been said from the appropriate place\nwhere the Vicar has placed the Litany-desk in your church--namely, just\nat the entrance to the chancel. Its position there has reference to that\nLitany of God's own appointing, of which we read in the Book of\nJoel[122], where, in a general assembly, the priests were to weep\n_between the porch and the altar_, and to say, '_Spare Thy people, O\nLord_.' In allusion to this, our Litany--retaining also the same words\nof supplication--is enjoined, by the royal injunctions[123], still in\nforce, 'to be said or sung in the midst of the church, at a low desk\nbefore the chancel-door[124].' The other desk is called the _lectern_,\nor _lettern_, and sometimes the _eagle-desk_; and, as you are aware, is\nthe desk from which the lessons are read. They were first made of wood,\nand often richly carved; afterwards they were commonly made of brass or\ncopper. They were first used about the end of the thirteenth century,\nand although most of our country churches have been despoiled of them,\nyet they have never ceased to be used in our cathedrals, as well as many\nother churches[125]. The desk is often supported by a pelican feeding\nits young with its own blood, the emblem of our Saviour's love; more\nfrequently it is supported by an eagle, the symbolic representation of\nthe Evangelist St. John. It is true that both the faldstool and the\nlectern have long been unknown at Droneworth, yet I feel sure you will\nnot, on second thoughts, consider the restoration of such convenient and\nappropriate furniture as objectionable.\"\n\nThe two late dissentients agreed that as they had overcome the greater\ndifficulty, they should withdraw all opposition in the matter; and, it\nbeing now late, the party broke up, each one feeling glad that a good\nthing had been done on a good day.\n\n\n\n\n_CHAPTER XX_\n\nTHE AISLES\n\n\n\"Praise ye the name of the Lord; praise Him, O ye servants of the Lord.\nYe that stand in the house of the Lord, in the courts of the house of\nour God.\"\n\nPs. cxxxv. 1, 2.\n\n\n \"Three solemn parts together twine\n In harmony's mysterious line\n Three solemn aisles approach the shrine,\n Yet all are one.\"\n\n KEBLE.\n\n\nIllustration: Castle Cary Church\n\n\n\n\nTHE AISLES\n\n\nMr. Beeland accompanied his two friends some distance on their way home.\n\n\"I remember noticing,\" said Mr. Acres, \"that the pews of your two\nparishioners very much blocked up the _centre aisle_ of the church;\ntheir removal will much widen the aisle, which will be a great\nimprovement.\"\n\n\"Forgive me for correcting you,\" said Mr. Ambrose, \"there can be no such\nthing as a _centre aisle_. You are speaking of the centre _alley_ or\n_passage_. The word _aisle_[126] can only refer to the wing of a\nbuilding, and it always denotes that portion of a church which runs\nlaterally north or south of the nave or chancel. I see, Mr. Beeland, you\nhave some work to do in that aisle of yours before your church will be\nin good order.\"\n\n\"Yes, that is my greatest remaining difficulty. I have observed that\nthose of the congregation who occupy that aisle are far less attentive\nand devotional than the rest; and the reasons are obvious. They are cut\noff from the main portion of the church, not only by the high backs of\nthe existing pews, and by the hat and cloak rails which run from pillar\nto pillar, but also by needless masses of modern masonry. Moreover, they\ncan see nothing of that part of the church which is sacred to the most\nsolemn offices of our worship. Then, again, what the people _do see_ is\nenough to divert all devotional thought and feeling from any but the\n_most_ seriously and religiously disposed.\"\n\n\"You mean the hideous heathen monument which occupies the east end of\nthe aisle. If I remember rightly, it is a sort of monstrous Roman altar,\nwith four huge bull's heads at each corner.\"\n\n\"Yes; it is in the centre of a mortuary chapel, once belonging to a\nfamily named Bullock, and their frightful crest, in gigantic\nproportions, is the one object on which the eyes of at least a third of\nour congregation must rest, if they open their eyes at all. I can hardly\nconceive any thing more calculated to deaden the fervour of Christian\nworship than an object like this placed before the gaze of the\nworshipper. Much as I object to the bare walls of Dissenting\nmeeting-houses, and the many-altared aisles of Roman Catholic churches,\nI believe neither are so distracting to the minds of the congregation\ngenerally as are the mortuary chapels, with their uncouth _adornments_,\nwhich occupy so large a space in the aisles of many of our own churches.\nUnfortunately, this chapel now belongs to a young man who has recently\nseceded to the Church of Rome, and he will neither allow me to\nappropriate for the use of the parishioners any of the space we so much\nneed, nor will he consent to have the unsightly monument removed to a\nless conspicuous place.\"\n\n\"The bitter hostility to wards the Church of their baptism, and the\nutter absence of Christian sympathy in good works of this nature, which\ncharacterize so many of those who have fallen away from our Communion,\nis indeed most deplorable. But even if your unreasonable and\nnarrow-hearted parishioner will oppose all improvement in that part of\nthe aisle which--stolen from God and His people--he claims as his own\nprivate property, there is much you can do, when you set about your work\nof restoration, to make that part of the church less isolated than at\npresent. At least, you can remove much of the useless wood and masonry\nwhich now separate the aisle from the nave.\"\n\n\"I propose also to re-open the ancient hagioscope in the south wall of\nthe chancel, by which means the people in the aisle will once more gain\na view of the altar, and be enabled to see and hear the priest when\nofficiating there.\"\n\n\"Will you kindly tell me, Mr. Beeland,\" said Mr. Acres, \"what are\n_hagioscopes_[127]? I never remember having heard the word before.\"\n\n\"You probably have heard them called by their more common name of\n_squints_. They are openings in the north or south walls of the chancel,\nor perhaps more commonly in the walls supporting the chancel arch, and\nare intended to give a view of the altar to those who are worshipping in\nthe aisles. They are to be found in most old churches, but they have\ncommonly, as in our case, been bricked up. It is manifestly very\ndesirable that in all cases they should be restored, not only on account\nof their architectural beauty, but also for their practical utility in\nthe services of the Church.\"\n\nThe party then separated, and the Vicar of Droneworth took back to his\nparish a lighter heart than he had known for many a day.\n\n\n\n\n_CHAPTER XXI_\n\nTHE TRANSEPTS\n\n\n\"Strength and beauty are in His sanctuary.\"\n\nPs. xcvi. 6.\n\n\n \"Pace we the ground! our footsteps tread\n A cross--the builder's holiest form--\n That awful couch where once was shed\n The blood with man's forgiveness warm,\n And here, just where His mighty breast\n Throbb'd the last agony away,\n They bade the voice of worship rest,\n And white-robed Levites pause and pray.\"\n\n HAWKER.\n\n\nIllustration: Church of SS. Peter and Paul, Ringwood\n\n\n\n\nTHE TRANSEPTS\n\n\n\"Much of the objection which you have expressed to the prevailing\narrangement of the aisles,\" said Mr. Acres, continuing the conversation\nwith his Vicar, \"seems to me to apply also to that of the transepts--I\nbelieve that is the proper name for those portions of a church which\nextend in a _transverse_ direction north and south?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" replied the Vicar; \"and the remedies for the evil are in both\ncases nearly the same. Great inconvenience often arises from the\nexclusive character of the parclose. I would have the solid part of this\nmade lower, and the upper part more light and open.\"\n\n\"Pardon me, my friend, but I am ignorant as to what you mean by the word\n_parclose_.\"\n\n\"I refer now to the screen which encloses the chancel on the north and\nsouth sides; but I believe the word may apply to any screen in the\nchurch. By means of these screens, however, the persons in the transepts\nare needlessly excluded from a view of the altar.\"\n\n\"Yes; but the change in them which you suggest would not fully meet the\ndifficulty, even if a squint or hagioscope should also be provided.\"\n\n\"I see that,\" said the Vicar; \"and for that reason I would, as a rule,\nonly have those portions of the transepts nearest the chancel fitted\nwith permanent seats. On special occasions chairs could be placed in the\nback parts; or, perhaps, the whole of the transepts might be given up to\nthe children of the parochial schools, the elder children, who could\nbest understand the nature of the services, being placed in the front.\"\n\n\"A very proper arrangement, indeed, I should think, for all of them\nwould be able at least to _hear_, and they would be conveniently placed\nfor assisting in the musical parts of the service. It has often struck\nme as the refinement of cruelty to place these children in the remote\ndamp corners of country churches, where too often they are to be found;\nor, worse still, in the topmost galleries of city churches, where the\nair they breathe is heated and impure. In both cases there is a manifest\nunconcern as well for the temporal as for the spiritual welfare of these\nlittle ones of Christ's flock.\"\n\n\"To whatever use, however, they may be applied, or even if they are\nentirely unappropriated, so far as regards affording accommodation for\nthe congregation, I would, by all means, wherever practicable, retain\nthe transeptal arrangement of our churches, not only as being the most\nornamental form of structure, but as preserving in the entire building\nthe distinct form of the _Cross_; and as symbolizing in the gathering\ntogether of each congregation of Christ's Church--which is _His Body_,\nthat Body itself. Thus the nave represents the body, the transepts the\noutstretched arms, and the chancel--being the most excellent part of the\nchurch--the head[128] of our Lord. Some perhaps might think it fanciful,\nbut to me there is something very solemn and beautiful in the idea, not\nonly of the church's whole fabric assuming these symbolic forms, but\nalso of the united prayers and praises of the congregation making, as it\nwere, in their very sound _the sign of the Cross_.\"\n\n\"I think so too. And to my mind it has always seemed that the grand\nsymbolism which looks through, as it were, the _whole_ fabric of the\nchurch, and the _whole_ congregation therein assembled, was formerly\nmuch marred in our churches, when there were _many_ altars, dedicated to\n_many_ saints, instead of the _one_ altar, which we now only retain,\ndedicated to the _one Head_ of the Christian Church.\"\n\n\"Yes; and your remark, of course, applies specially to the _transepts_\nabout which we were speaking, since even in our country churches every\ntransept had its separate altar, the _piscina_ attached to which is\nstill to be found in almost every old church.\"\n\n\"I suppose,\" said Mr. Acres, \"that beautiful Gothic niche in our south\ntransept which you recently restored is a _piscina_?\"\n\n\"Yes, it is. The piscina was always placed on the south side of the\naltar, and it was used chiefly as the receptacle for the water used in\ncleansing the sacred vessels, or for that used by the priest in washing\nhis hands[129]. It is to be found in our earliest Norman churches, and\nevidently dates from the time of their erection. There is often a\n_shelf_ placed over the basin of the piscina, which was used as a\n_credence_[130].\"\n\n\"We heard much about the credence-table some time since,\" interrupted\nthe Squire, \"when there was a suit in law about this and some other\nmatters; but I confess I am still ignorant as to the purpose of the\ncredence-table.\"\n\n\"It is usually a small table, or, when forming part of the piscina, a\nshelf, on which the elements intended for use at the Eucharist are\nplaced before their consecration. Just before the prayer for the _church\nmilitant_ in the Communion Service there is this direction: 'The priest\nshall _then_ place upon the table (i.e. the altar) so much bread and\nwine as he shall think sufficient.' Now, you see, it would be very\ninconvenient, and a sad interruption of that part of the service, to\nbring these from a distant part of the church. The ancient custom,\ntherefore, of placing the elements on the credence-table at the\ncommencement of the service is most convenient for the proper observance\nof this rubric. And so, although the credence has only been preserved as\nan interesting relic, or ornament in other parts of the church, in the\nchancel it has been preserved or restored[131], as being still a most\nuseful and important part of the furniture of the church.\"\n\nHaving now arrived at the vicarage-gate, the two friends bade each other\ngood-night.\n\n\n\n\n_CHAPTER XXII_\n\nTHE CHANCEL SCREEN\n\n\n\"The vail shall divide unto you between the holy place and the most\nholy.\"\n\nExod. xxvi. 33.\n\n\n \"I love the Church,--the holy Church,\n The Saviour's spotless bride:\n And, oh, I love her palaces\n Through all the land so wide!\n The cross-topp'd spire amid the trees,\n The holy bell of prayer;\n The music of our mother's voice,\n Our mother's home is there.\n\n \"I love the Church,--the holy Church,\n That o'er our life presides;\n The birth, the bridal, and the grave,\n And many an hour besides!\n Be mine, through life, to live in her,\n And when the Lord shall call,\n To die in her--the spouse of Christ,\n The mother of us all.\"\n\n _Christian Ballads._\n\n\nIllustration: Church of St. John, Walworth\n\n\n\n\nTHE CHANCEL SCREEN\n\n\nPerhaps, gentle reader (all readers are supposed to be \"gentle,\"--they\n_ought_ to be), if you live in a retired village, you will find that in\nthe course of many years, your village annals present little or nothing\nworthy of record, as matter of general interest or importance; you will,\ntherefore, understand how that the past six years at the little village\nof St. Catherine's have been so uneventful as to be noticed only by a\nblank in our narrative. But now, on this twenty-sixth day of June, in\nthe year 1866, an event of no common interest in a country parish is\nabout to take place.\n\nSince their first meeting, four years ago, at the vicarage of\nDroneworth, a close intimacy had grown up between the families of Mr.\nAcres and his neighbour Sir John Adamley; the upright integrity and\nmanly candour which marked both their characters soon begat a deep\nmutual respect, which, in course of time, ripened into a warm\nfriendship, now about to be sealed in the marriage of the Baronet's\neldest son Egbert with Mr. Acres' eldest daughter Constance.\n\nThe place is all astir betimes. Early in the morning a merry peal is\nsounding from the old church tower, and many hands are busy in\ndecorating with flowers and evergreens arches placed at intervals\nbetween the church and the Hall. It is by no order of the Squire or his\nsteward that these arches--erected at no slight cost of money and\nlabour--are put up; they are the spontaneous expression of the interest\nwhich the villagers themselves take in the day's rejoicing. There are\nWilliam Hardy, Robert Atkinson, Mr. Dole, even old Matthew and his\ngrandson, and indeed half the village, as busy as bees in and out of the\nchurch, vying with each other in their endeavour to make every thing\nlook bright and joyful. Every one has put on something gay and\ncheerful, purchased specially for the occasion; there is the light of\nhonest gladness on every face; and now that the children with their\nbaskets of fresh flowers stand ranged on either side of the pathway that\nleads from the main road to the lich-gate, the scene is one of the most\npicturesque that can be imagined....\n\n\"Does Mr. Ambrose particularly wish that the first part of the service\nshould take place near the _chancel screen_?\" inquires Sir John.\n\n\"Yes,\" answers the Squire; \"it is always the custom here, and I think\nyou will afterwards acknowledge that this arrangement is very fitting\nand appropriate; and, indeed, adds not a little to the impressiveness of\nthe ceremony.\"\n\n\"I can quite imagine that; but what authority has the Vicar for the\npractice?\"\n\n\"Oh, that is very plain. If you just look at your Prayer Book, you will\nsee this rubric at the commencement of the Marriage Service: 'At the\ntime appointed for the solemnization of matrimony, the persons to be\nmarried shall come into the _body of the church_ with their friends and\nneighbours, and _there_ standing, the priest shall say'--then follows\nthe address to the congregation assembled, and the rest of the service,\ntill the priest pronounces the first blessing; and after that, the\npriests and clerks, 'going to the Lord's Table,' are directed to say or\nsing one of the Psalms, and it is evidently intended that the\nnewly-married persons should accompany them, for when the Psalm is ended\nthey are mentioned as 'kneeling before the Lord's Table.' This\nprocession to the altar of course loses much of its meaning and\nimpressiveness when there is no celebration of Holy Communion. But,\nthen, this ought not to be omitted, except in very extreme cases.\"\n\n\"I quite see now that Mr. Ambrose is following the rule of the Church. I\ncertainly never read the directions in the Service before. I suppose,\nhowever, there is no particular part of the body of the church named?\"\n\n\"No; I believe it is only ancient custom which decides upon the chancel\nscreen; it is, too, the most convenient part of the church for this\npurpose.\" ...\n\nWhy is it that all those young eyes are so bright with love, as from\neach ready hand falls the gay flowers at the feet of the happy pair? Why\nis each knee bent during _every_ prayer in that solemn service? And,\nnow, when the hands of Mr. Ambrose rest on the heads of Constance and\nher husband, as he pronounces over them the last blessing of the Church,\nwhy does the deep _Amen_ sound from _every_ lip? Why is there that\nbreathless silence as those happy ones kneel before the altar to bind\nthemselves yet more closely together, and to God, in Holy Communion? And\nnow, as they come forth from God's House, how is it that there is no\nfaltering voice in all that assembly as the glad shout of Christian joy\nrings up through the air to heaven? I'll tell you. It is because the\npriest and the Squire have ever recognized their joint duties in that\nparish; because Constance has been a sister of charity and mercy among\nthe poor; because they have striven with all their might to do the work\nGod gave them to do; and now they have their reward in the hearty\naffection and respect of all their neighbours.\n\nThere were but two exceptions to this general manifestation of good\nfeeling among the villagers, and they were the last evil growth of the\nold Anabaptist schism in the parish. At the same time that Egbert and\nConstance were breathing their mutual vows beneath the old chancel\nscreen of St Catherine's, William Strike and Sally Sowerby were being\n\"married\" by Mr. Gallio at the new register-office at Townend....\n\n\"There is something very touching,\" said the Squire to Mr. Ambrose, as\nthey walked back together to the Hall, \"in that old custom preserved in\nour village of hanging a white glove on the chancel screen[132]. That\nwas the very glove my dear Mary wore when she promised to be the wife of\nEdward Markland, and poor Edward himself placed it there. I saw\nConstance's eyes fill with tears to-day as she ventured to give one look\nat the sad memento.\"\n\n\"The custom is fast dying out, and only survives in a few rural\nparishes. Indeed, the very screens themselves have, you know, in most\nchurches been swept away[133]. The finer carving is often to be found\nworked up into pews, and the large timbers have been used in building\ngalleries. Where these screens were made of stone[134], they have\ngenerally been preserved unharmed. In some cases, alas! people have not\nbeen contented with demolishing the screen, but have actually in their\nplace built a gallery[135] for a family pew, extending all across the\nfront of the chancel, but I am thankful to say such instances are very\nrare.\"\n\n\"Will you kindly tell me the origin of the chancel screen?\"\n\n\"It was formerly called the rood screen, or rood gallery, and where the\nrood has been restored, it is still properly so called. The Gospel used\nto be read from this gallery, and sometimes the psalms were sung there\nby the priests and choristers. The custom of reading the Gospel from\nthis position was evidently intended to express a special respect for\nthis portion of God's Word; and so, for the same reason, now the Gospel\nis read from the _north_ side of the chancel, whilst the Epistle is read\nfrom the south. The _rood_[136], which consisted of a crucifix with the\nfigure of the Blessed Virgin on one side, and of St. John on the other,\nwas placed at the top of the screen. Over this, and between the chancel\narch and the roof, the wall was painted, the subject usually being the\nDoom, or representation of the Last Judgment. To replace this, it would\nseem that, at the Reformation, the Commandments were ordered to be\npainted at the east end of the church.\"\n\n\"You think, then,\" said the Squire, \"that the order in the canons does\nnot refer to the east end of the _chancel_?\"\n\n\"It is a disputed point, but _I_ think not. Had the chancel been\nintended, I think it would have been so stated. Besides, it was ordered\nthat they should be so placed that the 'people could best see and read\nthe same,' and certainly they could not do the latter if they were\npainted at the east end of the chancel. Indeed, I regard that as the\nleast convenient and appropriate place in the whole church for them. If\nwe have them any where, the east end of the nave or aisles is the best\nplace for them; but, really, the need to have them at all is now passed\naway, as those who can read, can read the Commandments in their Bibles\nand Prayer Books; and for those who cannot, it is useless placing them\non the walls of the church[137]. However, it is far better to have the\nCommandments over the chancel arch than the _royal arms_. It is\nwonderful how silly people become when they have a superstitious dread\nof superstition. For instance, I know a church where the congregation\nwere offended by an old painting in the church, the subject of which was\nat least calculated to inspire solemn thoughts, yet could be contented\nthat the most conspicuous object in the church should be a hideous\nrepresentation of the royal arms, with this sentence below it in large\ncharacters: 'Mrs. Jemima Diggs, widow, gave this painting of the Queen's\narms, A.D. 1710[138].' I should like to know what there is in that to\nremind us that we are in the House of God?\"\n\n\n\n\n_CHAPTER XXIII_\n\nTHE CHANCEL\n\n\n\"In this place is One greater than the temple.\"\n\nS. Matt. xii. 6.\n\n\n \"Our life lies eastward: every day\n Some little of that mystic way\n By trembling feet is trod:\n In thoughtful fast, and quiet feast,\n Our thoughts go travelling to the East\n To our incarnate God.\n Fresh from the Font, our childhood's prime,\n To life's most oriental time,--\n\n \"Still doth it eastward turn in prayer,\n And rear its saving altar there:\n Still doth it eastward turn in creed,\n While faith in awe each gracious deed\n Of her dear Saviour's love doth plead;\n Still doth it turn at every line\n To the fair East--in sweet mute sign\n That through our weary strife and pain,\n We crave our Eden back again.\"\n\n FABER.\n\n\nIllustration: Sutton Benger Church\n\n\n\n\nTHE CHANCEL\n\n\n\"I hope you and my friend Mr. Beeland here are now working harmoniously\ntogether at Droneworth,\" said Mr. Ambrose to Sir John Adamley, as with\nMr. Acres and the Vicar of Droneworth they were enjoying a pleasant\nafternoon stroll in the gardens of the Hall.\n\n\"Well, I think we must say yes and no to that, for though we have never\nhad any difference of opinion respecting the restoration of our church\nsince the evening when I first had the pleasure of meeting you--and,\nindeed, I am proud, and we are all proud, of our renovated and beautiful\nchurch--yet there is one point on which we cannot quite agree. You see I\nam Lay Rector, and though I have long ago given up my old selfish idea\nabout pews, and only claim the space in the church which I really want\nto occupy, yet I do consider that, as the chancel belongs to me, I have\na right to a place _there_ for my family and servants, as well as for\nmyself. But, unfortunately, Mr. Beeland thinks otherwise.\"\n\n\"The chancel is furnished with handsome oak stalls for the choristers, I\nbelieve; as every chancel ought to be. You propose, if I understand you,\nto remove the choristers, and to occupy the stalls for yourselves and\nservants?\"\n\n\"I think I have a right to do so.\"\n\n\"The right is very doubtful. The position of a lay rector is altogether\nan anomalous one; but the duty and the privilege connected with it are,\nto my mind, definite and plain enough. The duty is to keep out the wind\nand water from the chancel, the privilege is to receive the great tithes\nof the parish. Now, of course, this privilege and duty were originally\nnever intended to be associated with other than a spiritual office. The\ntithes were for the support of the parish priest, and in return for\nthem, there was laid upon him not only the spiritual supervision of the\nparish, but also the duty of keeping the _shell_ of that portion of the\nchurch which was occupied by him and the assisting clerks sound and\nentire. Now, of course, the rector, being a priest, had a right to his\nproper place in the chancel; and I by no means deny that the lay rector\nsucceeds to the same right; but my belief is that the right (if any)\nextends _no farther than himself_. He represents the clerical rector,\nwho certainly could only claim a right to a seat for _himself_, and it\nis my opinion the layman can claim no more. But, my dear sir, this is\nsurely a case where higher considerations than mere legal rights should\nhave influence. Even if you have the right, ought you not to waive it?\nFor you cannot doubt that the chancel was never built to supply seats\nfor the Squire's family, but for the priest and those whose office it is\nspecially to assist him in _leading_ the prayers and praises of the\ncongregation. No church is properly ordered where the chancel stalls are\nnot occupied by the choir; and you can only rightly occupy a place there\nas one of them. So I venture to advise you to follow the example of our\nfriend Mr. Acres, and next Sunday put on a surplice, and take your place\nas a member of the choir, for you have a good bass voice, which would be\nof great assistance there.\"\n\n\"So you really think my claims as a lay rector should come down to\nthis?\"\n\n\"Nay, I think they should come _up_ to this, for your highest, as well\nas most fitting office as a lay rector, is to assist in his duties the\nVicar of your parish.\"\n\n\"Well, I will think about that. You have studied these matters much more\ndeeply than I have, and you always have the best of the argument. But I\nhave something more to say. I should like to have your opinion as to the\nproper arrangement and furniture of the whole of the chancel[139], for\nours has not yet been completed, and I have undertaken to finish it.\"\n\n\"I will gladly give you my opinion on the subject. Of course, the altar\nshould be the central and principal object in the church. For this\nreason, the east of the chancel should be the highest part, but for\nevident reasons the whole of the chancel should be higher than the\nnave[140]. There should be a marked difference between the chancel--or\nchoir, and the sanctuary--or space immediately surrounding the altar; a\ndifference which had its type in the 'Holy Place' and the 'Holy of\nHolies' of the Jewish temple. The _lectern_--or desk, from which the\nlessons are read, and the _faldstool_--or Litany desk, may be either\njust without or within the chancel screen. The _sedilia_[141]--a stone\nrecess for the seats of the officiating clergy, with the\n_piscina_[142]--should be on the south side, and the _credence[143]\ntable_ may be on the north or south side of the altar. The\n_reredos_[144], at the east end of the chancel, should be the most\ncostly and elaborate part of the church, as it is connected with the\nmost dignified portion of the building. Its most prominent feature\nshould be the symbol of our salvation, and whatever adornment is\nemployed, it should have distinct reference to the 'sacrifice of the\ndeath of Christ.' _Empty niches_ should here and every where be\ncarefully avoided; for they have little beauty and no meaning. Without\ntheir tenants, they are ridiculous forms of ornamentation, for the\ncorbel--or bracket, has no meaning unless it is intended to support a\nfigure, nor its canopy, unless intended to shelter and protect one. I\nhave seen slabs containing epitaphs and the armorial bearings of private\npersons, as well as the royal shield, substituted for a proper reredos,\nbut this is a sad profanation[145]. There is one thing worse; and that\nis engraving armorial bearings on the sacred vessels. The _prayer\ndesk_[146] should form part of the choir stalls, and look in the same\ndirection; this desk should not face the congregation, as the priest\ndoes not preach the prayers _to_ the congregation, but says the prayers\n_with_ them. When the Absolution is said, the case is different, and the\npropriety of the change of posture and position is evident. This is\ndirectly addressed _to_ the congregation, and to be 'pronounced by the\npriest _standing_.' So in the Communion Office the Priest is directed to\n_stand up, and, turning himself to the people, pronounce the\nAbsolution_.\"\n\n\"I quite acknowledge the justness of what you say on these points, and\nshall gladly avail myself of your further counsel; specially I shall be\ngrateful for your advice respecting the construction of the _altar_, and\nproviding its proper furniture: but I have now already trespassed so\nlong on your time, that I must only ask you to explain one thing more,\nand that is the meaning of the two little hollow square places in the\nnorth wall of our chancel.\"\n\n\"They formerly were closets, and had doors, no doubt, of carved oak.\nThey are commonly called _almeries_, and are to be found in all old\nchurches, their use in the chancel being to hold the sacred vessels\nused at the altar; even where they can no longer be utilized, they ought\nto be preserved as objects of interest[147].\"\n\nIllustration: Llanfaenor Church\n\n\n\n\n_CHAPTER XXIV_\n\nTHE ALTAR\n\n\n\"We have an altar.\"\n\nHeb. xiii. 10.\n\n\n \"Whene'er I seek the holy altar's rail,\n And kneel to take the grace there offer'd me,\n It is no time to task my reason frail,\n To try Christ's words, and search how they may be.\n Enough, I eat His flesh, and drink His blood;\n More is not told--to ask it is not good.\n\n \"I will not say with these, that bread and wine\n Have vanish'd at the consecration prayer;\n Far less, with those, deny that aught Divine,\n And of immortal seed, is hidden there.\n Hence, disputants! The din which ye admire\n Keeps but ill measure with the church's choir.\"\n\n _Lyra Apostolica._\n\n\nIllustration: St. Alban's Church, Holborn\n\n\n\n\nTHE ALTAR\n\n\nIt was late in the evening before the other guests had left the Hall,\nand our four friends sat down together in the library, without fear of\ninterruption, to continue the conversation of the afternoon.\n\n\"I should like you to tell me, Mr. Ambrose,\" said Sir John, \"whether you\nconsider that the word _altar_ is properly applied to a table made of\nwood.\"\n\n\"Oh, most certainly it is. The term is equally applicable, whether the\naltar be made of wood or stone. No doubt stone was the material first\nused[148], yet at so early a period as the building of the tabernacle,\nwe read that God commanded Moses to make an altar of _wood_[149]. In the\nearliest days of the Christian Church the altars were, probably without\nexception, made of wood; but afterwards it became the practice to erect\nthem of stone, and from the sixth[150] to the sixteenth century this\nrule was all but universal.\"\n\n\"How is the change to be accounted for?\"\n\n\"During the persecutions of the early Christians under the heathen\nEmperors of Rome, they resorted, as you are aware, to the subterranean\ncatacombs there, as the only places where they could, in comparative\nsafety, hold their religious services. Here the stone altar-tombs of\nthose who had suffered martyrdom offered the most convenient and fitting\naltars for the celebration of the Holy Eucharist. In after times, when\nthe Church was prosperous and at peace, the remembrance of these\naltar-tombs not only suggested the material for the Christian altar, but\nalso the custom of erecting it over the relics of saints and martyrs.\nThis custom of building the altar over the bones of martyrs (which is\nstill continued in the Roman Church, but which has for many years ceased\nto be the practice in our own), is, moreover, supposed to have reference\nto that mysterious vision in the Revelation of St. John, which you will\nremember he thus describes: 'When the Lamb had opened the fifth seal, I\nsaw under the altar the souls of them that were slain for the Word of\nGod, and for the testimony which they held[151].'\n\n\"The use of stone instead of wood was, no doubt, adopted also for other\nreasons than the one I have stated. Stone altars were less liable to\ndesecration; they possess, too, a symbolism of their own, representing\nboth the _incarnation_ and _entombment_ of our Blessed Lord[152]. The\nscriptural symbol of a Rock[153], as representing our Lord, might appear\nto be more evidently connected with the stone than the wooden altar, but\nthis symbol must always be associated with the idea of altar, of\nwhatever material it is made. The wooden altar, on the other hand, may\nseem to refer more directly to the _institution_ of the _Lord's Supper_;\nand the altar candlesticks have, of course, a peculiar and very manifest\nappropriateness when the altar is so considered.\"\n\n\"But surely, my friend, the word _table_ seems to be here exactly\napplicable.\"\n\n\"Yes, so it is; but you must not try to separate things which are\ninseparable. Every altar is a table, though every table is not an altar.\nBoth terms are correct, but the one must not be supposed to exclude the\nother; and it would be strange indeed if, having a _priest_ and an\n_oblation_[154], the church should be without an _altar_. The top slab\nof the altar is the table[155], whether it is made of wood or stone.\nWhere this slab is of stone, it has from early times been considered to\nrepresent the stone rolled to the mouth of the sepulchre of our Lord. In\nthe Greek Church the _seal_ that was set on the stone[156] is\nrepresented by the consecrated wafer; in the Roman Church this seal is\nrepresented by the small square stone let into the centre of the altar\ntable[157]. In the primitive Church there was but one altar in each\nchurch, but afterwards it became a custom to erect many others,\ndedicated to as many saints and martyrs. This was the custom in our own\nChurch--just as it is still in the Roman Church--before Queen Elizabeth\nordered all altars to be removed in every church, except the _high\naltar_, which is the only one we now retain; and, for my part, I\ncertainly wish for no other. But at the same time _all stone altars_\nwere ordered to be removed, and then altars of wood were once more\nplaced in almost every church. I am sorry to say the old stone altars\nwere broken up and desecrated. Some few, however, of them escaped[158],\nand many more have since that time been erected. There are probably\nhundreds of stone altars to be found in our cathedrals, college chapels,\nand parish churches, and I don't suppose (though some seem to do so)\nthat people attach more superstitious meaning to them than to the most\nmodern oaken Communion table. But, as I said before, to my mind it is\nindifferent whether the altar be of wood or stone.\"\n\n\"I should like your opinion about the proper furniture for the altar.\"\n\n\"First, with regard to its _covering_: the canon directs that the altar\nshall be covered with 'a carpet of silk, or other decent stuff' on\nordinary occasions, and with 'a fair linen cloth' at the time of the\ncelebration of Holy Communion. This order allows considerable liberty as\nto colour and pattern; but it appears to imply that it should be as rich\nas the circumstances of each case will allow[159]. Where cloths of more\nthan one colour are used, these five--in accordance with very ancient\npractice--are commonly employed as specially adapted to the different\nseasons of the Christian year: _white_, at Christmas and certain other\nfestivals, as emblematical of purity; _red_, as representing the blood\nof martyrs, and at Pentecost, as emblematic of the fiery tongues;\n_green_, for general use, as the prevailing colour of nature, and a sort\nof middle colour between the rest in use; _violet_ and _black_ as\ncolours of mourning.\"\n\n\"But, surely, this variety is _unnecessary_?\"\n\n\"Most assuredly. Nevertheless, where they can conveniently be had, they\nare _appropriate_, and teach their own lesson. It was not _necessary_ to\nput a cloth of black on the altar at Droneworth when your father died\ntwo years since; and I am doubtful whether Mr. Beeland was quite right\nin doing so. But surely if you thought it was right for him to do this\nat the funeral of a mere mortal man, you cannot say that it is wrong to\nuse a black altar-cloth on _Good Friday_; and, of course, the same\nargument applies to all the rest. With regard to the custom in some\nplaces of covering half the church with black for a month, because some\nrich man has died in the parish--I say plainly that I regard that as\nnext to impiety and profanation.\"\n\n\"I see the justness of your words. What do you say to _cushions_ on the\naltar?\"\n\n\"Say! _they ought never to be there_. I can imagine nothing more out of\nplace. I have often wondered for what purpose they could originally have\nbeen put there. They are certainly not required, nor yet convenient as a\nrest for the Altar Service Book. It is too shocking to suppose they were\nintended to enable the priest to rest his arms and head softly on God's\naltar! I have sometimes fancied I see their origin in an old custom\nobserved in the Roman Church of placing the two lambs, whose wool was\nused for making the palls[160] with which the Bishop of Rome invests his\narchbishops with their archiepiscopal authority, on _two richly\nembroidered cushions, one of which was placed on the north, the other on\nthe south side of the altar_; but I know not. A _desk_ of brass or oak\nis convenient to support the office-book, and _two candles_ are ordered\nto be placed on the altar.\"\n\n\"But, my dear sir, I am told that is a very _Romish_ custom.\"\n\n\"Well, Sir John, and so it is a very Romish custom to say the Lord's\nPrayer, and it is a very Hindoo custom for a wife to love her husband\nwith a special devotion; but we shall not, for either reason, be\ndisposed to blame either custom. The thing with us, like every thing\nelse, is either right or wrong _in itself_, independent of the use of\nany other Church. But it so happens that this is the very reverse to a\nRomish custom, for these two candles were ordered to be placed on the\naltar in direct opposition to the custom of the Roman Catholic\nChurch[161]. Nothing can be more expressive, and utterly\nunobjectionable, than the symbolism of these _two_ candles (of course,\nit is not _necessary_ that they should be _lighted_ in order to preserve\ntheir emblematic meaning), and I should be very sorry to see this simple\nsymbolism broken into by the introduction of more than two lights upon\nthe altar[162]. I have not by any means mentioned all that is required\nfor the service of the altar; I have only spoken of its ordinary\nfurniture. That which is specially required for the Eucharistic services\nis, doubtless, already provided in your church.\"\n\n\"Before we say good-night,\" said Mr. Acres, \"let me ask you one question\nindirectly connected with this subject. I notice that many of my\nneighbours receive the consecrated bread _on the palm of the hand_, some\nholding both hands in the form of a cross. I suppose this is in\naccordance with your instruction: I should like to know the reason for\nit. Where there are high altar-rails--which I much object to, and which,\nof course, are altogether unnecessary when the chancel screen is\nproperly arranged, as with us--this custom would be very inconvenient.\"\n\n\"The short rail, north and south, for the use of the aged and infirm, is\ncertainly all that is required. As regards the manner of receiving the\nsacred element, to which you refer, I certainly have recommended it, and\nfor these reasons: it is much more convenient both for the priest and\nthe communicant; it avoids all danger of any portion of the bread\nfalling on the floor; and it is most in accordance with the rubric,\nwhich directs that the minister shall deliver the communion _into_ the\nhands of the recipients.\"\n\n\"Thank you. I consider your reasons as amply sufficient, and I see no\npossible objection to the custom.\"\n\n\n\n\n_CHAPTER XXV_\n\nTHE ORGAN-CHAMBER\n\n\n\"Samuel ministered before the Lord, being a child, girded with a linen\nephod.\"\n\n1 Sam. ii. 18.\n\n\n \"But let my due feet never fail\n To walk the studious cloisters pale,\n And love the high embowed roof,\n With antique pillars, massy proof,\n And storied windows, richly dight,\n Casting a dim religious light.\n There let the pealing organ blow,\n To the full-voiced quire below,\n In service high, and anthems clear,\n As may with sweetness, through mine ear,\n Dissolve me into ecstasies,\n And bring all Heaven before mine eyes.\"\n\n _Il Penseroso._\n\n\nIllustration: Icklesham Church\n\n\n\n\nTHE ORGAN-CHAMBER.\n\n\n\"And so, Harry, my boy, you have really made up your mind to be a\nchorister?\" said Mr. Ambrose to old Matthew's grandson, one Sunday\nmorning.\n\n\"Yes, if you please, sir,\" was his reply. \"Grandfather says he should\nlike me to be one.\"\n\n\"And you wish it yourself, do you?\"\n\n\"Yes, sir.\"\n\n\"Very well. You are a well-conducted boy, and God has given you a good\nmusical voice, so we shall be very pleased to have you amongst us. But\nyou must never forget that there is not only a high honour, but also a\nvery solemn responsibility connected with the office of a chorister.\nAlways remember, then, that you are in a very especial way _God's\nservant_, that His eye is upon you, and that He will expect you to do\nyour duty in the _very best way you possibly can_. You must _sing and\ngive praise with the best member that you have_[163]--that is, you must\ndevote to God's praise and glory the very best service you can render.\nYou are a little boy to talk to about setting a good example to a\ncongregation, composed for the most part of persons so much older than\nyourself, but yet that is one of your chief duties. When you are in the\nchoir, the eyes of all the congregation are upon you, and they should\nnot only _hear_ you singing as well as you can, and so be led themselves\nto join heartily in the musical parts of the service, but also _at all\nother times_ they should _see_ you reverent and devout in your conduct;\nand be sure, my boy, this good and serious behaviour of yours will have\nits influence upon others, though perhaps they may be hardly conscious\nof it. Now there is enough in this to make you very serious, but yet the\nthought that God permits you in your young years thus to help in\npromoting His glory, and to be such a blessing to your fellow-creatures,\nshould make you very happy and very thankful to Him.\" ...\n\nBefore the commencement of the Morning Prayers little Harry was solemnly\nadmitted a member of the choir. The ceremony was a very simple, but yet\na very solemn one. On this occasion the usual order of entering the\nchurch was reversed. Mr. Ambrose came first, then the eight senior\nmembers of the choir, then the seven boy choristers, and last came\nHarry. All wore their surplices except Harry, and he carried his new\nlittle surplice on his arm. During the procession solemn music was\nplayed on the organ. As soon as it ceased, all knelt down to say their\nprivate prayers, Harry kneeling on a cushion prepared for him at the\nentrance to the chancel. It was the custom at St. Catherine's for all\nthe congregation to stand up when the priest and choir entered; which\ncustom, besides being a mark of respect for His presence to whom they\nwere about to dedicate their worship and service, had this\nadvantage--that it induced all to say their private prayers at the same\ntime, and thus avoided much confusion; it tended also to prepare the\nmind _at once_ to enter into the spirit of the _public_ service.\n\nAfter a short pause, Mr. Ambrose read a portion of the third chapter of\nthe first book of Samuel. He then addressed Harry in these words:--\n\n\"Henry, before I proceed to admit you a member of the choir of this\nchurch, you must promise, before God and this congregation, that in the\nsolemn office on which you are about to enter, you will always strive\nabove all things to promote His glory. Do you so promise?\"\n\nLittle Harry, in a timid, trembling voice, answered, \"I do so promise.\"\n\nThe Vicar and choir then sang, alternately, the following sentences:--\n\n _Priest._--\"Our help is in the name of the Lord;\"\n\n _Choir._--\"Who made heaven and earth.\"\n\n _P._--\"O Lord, bless and keep this Thy servant;\"\n\n _C._--\"Who putteth his trust in Thee.\"\n\n _P._--\"Accept his service in this Thy House;\"\n\n _C._--\"And make the voice of Thy praise to be glorious.\"\n\n _P._--\"Lord, hear our prayer;\"\n\n _C._--\"And let our crying come unto Thee.\"\n\nMr. Ambrose then read these verses:--\n\n\"And it came to pass, when the priests were come out of the holy\nplace--also the Levites, which were the singers, all of them of Asaph,\nof Heman, of Jeduthun, with their sons and their brethren, being arrayed\nin white linen, having cymbals and psalteries and harps, stood at the\neast end of the altar, and with them an hundred and twenty priests\nsounding with trumpets:--it came even to pass as the trumpeters and\nsingers were as one, to make one sound to be heard in praising and\nthanking the Lord; and when they lifted up their voice with the trumpets\nand cymbals, and instruments of music, and praised the Lord, saying, For\nHe is good; for His mercy endureth for ever: that then the house was\nfilled with a cloud, even the house of the Lord; so that the priests\ncould not stand to minister by reason of the cloud: for the glory of the\nLord had filled the house of God[164].\"\n\nThe choir then sang, \"Glory be to Thee, O God,\" during which time the\nsenior choir boy led little Harry into the middle of the choir, where he\nknelt down on a cushion prepared for him.\n\nMr. Ambrose then said this prayer: \"O most merciful Father, before whom\n'Samuel ministered, being a child, girded with a linen ephod,' give, we\npray Thee, to this Thy youthful servant such gifts as shall enable him\nto sing Thy praise, and promote Thy glory in this Thy Temple, and grace\nto worship Thee acceptably in the beauty of holiness, and to adorn the\ndoctrine of Christ his Saviour in all things. Amen.\"\n\nHarry then stood up, and as Mr. Ambrose placed on him his little\nsurplice, he said,--\n\n\"Henry, I robe you in this surplice in token that you are now set apart\nto be a chorister, and, together with those around you, to assist in the\nhigh and glorious work of leading the praises of God in this church: let\nthe whiteness of this robe always remind you of that purity which should\nmark the service you here offer up to God. I pray you never, either\nhere or elsewhere, to disgrace this robe of your solemn office. What\nyou sing with your lips believe in your heart, and what you believe in\nyour heart fulfil in your life; and may God so bless and protect you,\nthat when this life is ended, you may join that angel choir who in robes\nof white sing before the Throne, 'Glory to God and to the Lamb for ever\nand ever.' Amen.\"\n\nThe new chorister then took his place in the choir, whilst the organ\nalmost thundered the following chorus, in which all joined:--\n\n\"O Great and Mighty God, with angels and archangels we laud and magnify\nThy glorious name. Amen.\"\n\nThe usual morning service then proceeded. Many eyes were fixed on the\nearnest, thoughtful little face that appeared for the first time in the\nchoir; and with not a little pardonable pride did old Matthew watch the\nhearty efforts of his grandson to fulfil the promise he had just made.\n\nIt had long been a custom for the Vicar and Mr. Mendles, the organist,\nto partake of a late meal at the Hall when their Sunday duties were\nended; and on this Sunday evening the Squire accompanied them home from\nchurch.\n\n\"Our little friend,\" said he, \"will be quite an acquisition to the\nchoir; he has a very sweet voice.\"\n\n\"Yes, he has,\" replied the Vicar; \"and what is of no less importance, he\nis sure to conduct himself well. But, for that matter, I have no reason\nto complain of any one of our choir; for, thanks to Mr. Mendles, and to\ntheir own sense of propriety, I don't believe there is a better\nconducted choir in any parish than ours.\"\n\n\"That is very much owing to your allowing no men to be there who are not\ncommunicants.\"\n\n\"That's a good rule, no doubt, and accounts, perhaps, more than any\nthing for their reverent behaviour. You well know, Mr. Mendles, there\nwas little reverence enough once.\"\n\n\"The great difficulty,\" said Mr. Mendles, \"is to persuade the choir that\nthey should sing to God, _with_ the congregation, not _to_ the\ncongregation. I strive both to learn myself, and to teach them, that our\nsinging should be _worship_, not the mere exhibition of _talent_, and\nthat we ought to rejoice when the congregation _join in_, not when they\nonly _listen to_ our hymns and chants. I believe we have now learnt the\nlesson, and are the happier for it.\"\n\n\"And we all feel the benefit of that lesson too,\" said the Vicar, \"for\nwhereas formerly nothing but flashy tunes which enabled them to show off\ntheir own talent would please the choir, we have now, thank God, a\nsolemn and devotional character in the music of our liturgical services,\nand a joyful gladness in the music of our hymns--equally far removed\nfrom levity and from mournfulness--which, with our praises and our\nprayers, seem to float up our very souls to heaven.\"\n\n\"I think we must attribute the success of our musical services in some\nmeasure to the new position of the organ, must we not, Mr. Mendles?\"\nsaid the Squire.\n\n\"Most certainly. There can be no doubt that the most convenient position\nfor the organ-chamber is either on the north or south side of the\nchancel; or, if the organ is divided, on both sides. It is a misfortune\nthat, as organs were but little known when most of our old churches were\nerected[165], we find no fitting place provided for them in the original\nstructure. There is, however, no excuse for our modern architects who\nare guilty of such an omission; and it is a matter of surprise to me\nthat they do not make the organ-chamber a feature of more prominence and\ngreater beauty, both externally and internally, than they are accustomed\nto do.\"\n\n\"True,\" said the Squire; \"specially as in our days the organ is regarded\nas all but a necessity in every church. Certainly, there is no musical\ninstrument so suitable for congregational worship, for whilst it\nrepresents all kinds of music, it exactly realizes the description given\nin the account of the dedication of the temple which Mr. Ambrose read\nthis morning, and brings together the cymbals and the psalteries and the\nharps, and the trumpeters and the singers '_as one_.'\n\n\"It is a curious fact--is it not, sir?--that whereas the presence of\norgans in our churches used to be the source of great offence to\nDissenters in this country, and has recently been the subject of much\ndispute among Presbyterian Dissenters, yet you can now hardly find a\nDissenting meeting-house of any size but can boast of its organ, and\noften a very good one too. Let us hope, Mr. Vicar, that ere long they,\nmay become reconciled also to other things in our Church which now they\nmay regard with the same horror with which they once looked upon the\nchurch organ.\"\n\n\n\n\n_CHAPTER XXVI_\n\nTHE VESTRY\n\n\n\"Let all things be done decently and in order.\"\n\n1 Cor. xiv. 40.\n\n\n \"Avoid profaneness! Come not here.\n Nothing but holy, pure, and clear,\n Or that which groaneth to be so,\n May at his peril farther go.\"\n\n GEORGE HERBERT.\n\n\nIllustration: Harpsden Church\n\n\n\n\nTHE VESTRY\n\n\nTo the close friendship which existed between the Squire and the Vicar,\nconstantly cemented by such meetings as we have just described, was\nowing, in a considerable degree, the general harmony and goodwill which\nmade St. Catherine's one of the most peaceful villages in England. When,\nmany years ago, Mr. Ambrose first became Vicar there, he felt it his\nduty to make many changes in a parish which had been long neglected, and\nin a church which was almost a ruin. His labours were then regarded with\nmuch suspicion and disfavour; but he had now been long enough resident\nin the parish to live down all that hostile feeling. Nevertheless, it\nwas not all peace at St. Catherine's. From time to time there would be\nan importation of cross-grained malcontents, who usually succeeded in\nstirring up some parochial strife.\n\nSuch had for some time past been the laudable occupation of William\nStrike and his too faithful companion, whom, by kind permission of Mr.\nGallio, the registrar, he was allowed to call his wife. He had never\npromised to love her, and she had never promised to obey him, and on\nthese little points each scrupulously maintained a right to act in\nperfect independence of the other: nevertheless, they heartily united in\na common effort to instil into the minds of their neighbours a feeling\nof hostility to wards the church; and some discord in the parish was the\nnatural consequence. An opportunity offered on the morning of Easter\nMonday for Strike to find a full vent for all his spleen.\n\nIt is a sad, sad thought, that at this season of the Christian year,\nwhen all should be peace, the bitterness of party strife should break up\nthe harmony of so many parishes. But so it is; and so it was at St.\nCatherine's; and this one man was at the bottom of all the mischief.\n\n\"I am sorry to see you are going to the vestry this morning, William,\"\nsaid Mr. Dole, as they met in the village street.\n\n\"I've as much right there as you have, I suppose,\" he replied; \"you're\ngoing to support the Vicar, and I'm going to oppose him thick and thin.\"\n\n\"Peace is better than war, William.\"\n\n\"Well, _you_ used to be on our side once, and I should like to know\nwhat's made you turn round?\"\n\n\"It would take too long to answer that question fully, William. It will\nbe enough if I tell you that where I thought I knew most, I found myself\nall wrong; and the more I thought and inquired, the more convinced I was\nthat there could be only one true Church committed by Christ to His\nApostles and their successors, and that to separate from that, and cause\ndivision and schism, must be a sin. After long and prayerful\nconsideration, and many conversations with Mr. Ambrose on the subject, I\nwas convinced that the sect to which I belonged--and you do still--was\nnot the one true Church; and so I left it.\"\n\n\"Well, I don't mean to leave it; and I don't mean that the parson shall\nhave it all his own way in this parish.\"\n\nMr. Dole had in vain tried to bring his companion to a better mind when\nthey reached the vestry[166]. It was a small chamber on the opposite\nside of the chancel to the organ[167], and there was a sombreness about\nit that harmonized with the solemn use for which it was intended. On the\neastern side were two small windows filled with stained glass, and over\nthem, in large letters, was the sentence, \"Let thy priests be clothed\nwith righteousness, and let thy saints sing with joyfulness.\" Between\nthese two windows stood an oaken table, on which was a small desk or\nlectern; and on this, written in beautifully illuminated characters,\nwere the prayers used by Mr. Ambrose and the choir before and after the\nChurch services. Before the table was a small embroidered kneeling\ncushion for the priest at these times. The parish chest[168], and two\nancient chairs, all of oak and richly carved, completed the furniture of\nthe vestry; whilst on its walls were hung the surplices of the choir and\nthe vestments of the priest[169].\n\nThe meeting was called together for the double purpose of electing\nchurchwardens and making a church-rate, and it was soon evident to the\nVicar that Strike and his friends had come determined on a stormy\nmeeting. But few angry words, however, had been spoken, when Mr. Ambrose\nrose and said, \"My friends, I had hoped that this meeting would have\nbeen conducted in that spirit of Christian charity and peacefulness\nwhich has been our custom; but as I find this is not to be the case, I\nwill not allow any part of God's House to be desecrated by the\nexhibition of party animosity and angry strife[170]. This vestry is\nknown to those of you who are associated with me in conducting our\nreligious services, as the place of holy meditation and solemn prayer;\nnor are its associations less sacred to those among you who have come\nhere, with unquiet consciences or troubled minds, to seek my counsel and\nadvice. All around us here, my friends, reminds us of the service of a\nGod of love; so if the Demon of Discord must come into our little\nparish, let this place, at least, not be the scene of his unhallowed\npresence.\"\n\nIt was then proposed to adjourn the meeting to the house of Mr. Walton;\nand he, having both a good heart under his waistcoat, and a large room\nin his house, readily agreed to the proposal. He was, moreover, one of\nthe churchwardens, and, though the village blacksmith, was a man in good\ncircumstances, and exercised considerable influence for good in the\nparish.\n\nNothing can be less profitable than to read the \"foolish talking\" which\ncommonly characterizes a discordant vestry meeting; we will, therefore,\npass that over. The churchwardens were re-elected, and the church-rate\nwas carried. The Vicar then endeavoured to pour oil upon the troubled\nwaters by delivering a kind and friendly address, which he ended in\nthese words: \"Mr. Strike tells you that he will always oppose the Church\nso long as it is in any way supported by the State. But let me remind\nhim that the Church did not receive from the State the possessions with\nwhich she is endowed for the maintenance of true religion in this land.\nThose were, for the most part, given to our Church by pious men and\nwomen, many hundreds of years ago; and the State, in securing these to\nus, is only acting with common honesty, and doing no more for the Church\nthan it does for every other society--indeed, for every person--in the\ncountry. But Mr. Strike tells you, too, he will not give a penny for\nkeeping up the fabric of the Church, because he is a Dissenter. Now, my\nfriends, to take the _very lowest_ view of the Church, and regarding her\ntemples only as places in which a high standard of _morality_ is set up,\nit is surely for the advantage of the _State_, and for the _community_,\nthat they should be maintained; and, therefore, _all_ should help to\nmaintain them. 'Yes,' you say, 'but we teach morality, too, in our\nlittle Salem Chapel at Droneworth: why should not our meeting-house be\nsupported as much as your Church?' My answer is, that your Salem Chapel\nmay any day share the fate of the Little Bethel Meeting-House that used\nto be in our parish. Besides, on your own principles, you cannot accept\nState aid to keep it up. Of course I have myself higher reasons for\nconsidering it the duty of the State to secure the proper reparation of\nthe fabric of our churches; but I have only taken the lowest ground; I\nthink, however, that even that is firm enough to bear the weight of the\nwhole argument. But now, my friends, let us part in peace, and let all\nangry feeling die away.\"\n\n\"The church-rates will soon be done away with altogether, depend upon\nit, sir,\" shouted Mr. Strike, in a tone which was an evident\nprotestation against that spirit of peace which Mr. Ambrose was so\nanxious should pervade his parish.\n\n\"It may be so,\" said the Vicar; \"and if so, I believe and pray that God\nwill overrule even that for the benefit of His Church.\"\n\nAnd so the St. Catherine's vestry ended.\n\n\"I am heartily glad,\" said Mr. Acres to the Vicar, \"that we did not have\nall that row in the church to-day. Sorry as I am to make Mr. Walton's\nhouse the scene of such discord, yet I am sure he would far rather have\nit here than in the church vestry.\"\n\n\"Any where's better than the church,\" said Mr. Walton, \"for such\nquarrels as these.\"\n\n\"By the bye,\" said Mr. Acres, as they both rose to depart, \"do you\nremember the time when the churchwardens used to retire to the vestry\nbefore the conclusion of the service to count up the alms? We could, you\nknow, hear the jingling of the money during all the later prayers of the\nservice, and a most indecent interruption it was. How far more seemly is\nyour custom of reverently presenting the alms at the altar, where it\nremains till the close of the service. And I am so grateful to you for\nabandoning that objectionable and most ridiculous custom of holding the\n_plates_ at the church door. The custom seemed so completely to do away\nwith the idea of almsgiving as an _act of worship_. How many a wickedly\ngrotesque scene has occurred at the door of our own church, plainly\nshowing that many who contributed their alms simply gave them to Mr.\nWalton or Mr. Acres, and least of all thought of giving them _to God_.\nNay, so anxious was dear old Lady Angelina Hilltower and her daughter to\nconfer upon _us_ equal honour, and to avoid any just cause of jealousy\nbetween us, that they used to create quite a pantomime at the door\nwhenever there was a collection, by crossing over to put half-a-crown in\neach plate, making at the same time a profound obeisance to each of us.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Mr. Acres, \"I certainly am glad all that's done away with;\nbut I'm more glad that at last we have been able to get rid altogether\nof the plates for collecting the offertory, and to substitute _Bags_.\nThere has been some opposition, as you are aware; some pleaded long\ncustom as a reason for retaining the plates, and some, who were rather\nproud of their stereotyped shilling, did not wish their benevolence to\nbe hidden. In fact all those who _did their alms before men, to be seen\nof them_, were of course hostile to the change.\"\n\n\"I know,\" said the Squire, \"that some were at first offended, but none\nknew why. I never heard the faintest approach to a reasonable objection\nto this plainly scriptural manner of _secret_ almsgiving; nor did I ever\nhear an argument of any weight in favour of the plate system, except\nthat it sometimes forces money from unwilling contributors, and that\nargument is too contemptible to notice.\n\n\n\n\n_CHAPTER XXVII_\n\nTHE PILLARS\n\n\n\"The church of the living God, the pillar and ground of the truth.\"\n\n1 Tim. iii. 15.\n\n\n \"See, the Church her head once more hath lifted;\n Seemly order dwells within her gate;\n God-sent art adorns her holy precincts,\n And no more she lieth desolate.\n\n \"What is it that she is saying, brothers?\n All the subtle skill of graver's hand,\n All the heavenward shafts, and bended arches,\n Utter speech to those that understand.\n\n \"You can hear them telling some things loudly,\n Telling of ungrudging love and care;\n But I catch an inner voice that pleadeth\n Soft and sweet, like music in the air.\n\n \"And it saith,--from every wreathed column,\n Every leafy carving, breathing low,--\n 'Take our message, O ye _living_ temples,\n Fold it in your breasts, before ye go.\n\n \"'Purge the shrine of your own souls within you\n From all stain of pride and sloth and sin,\n Grace it with all saintly decoration:\n Then your God shall come and dwell within.'\"\n\n W. W. H.\n\n\nIllustration: Church of St. John, Highbridge\n\n\n\n\nTHE PILLARS\n\n\nIt was the day before the Festival of the Ascension, and Ascension Day\nbeing not only one of the greatest festivals of the Christian year, but\nbeing, moreover, the day on which the people of St. Catherine's were\nused to commemorate with great rejoicing the restoration of their now\nbeautiful temple, old Matthew and the Vicar were busily engaged\nassisting those of the parishioners, old and young, who had the time to\nspare and were sufficiently skilful, in decorating the church with\nflowers and evergreens.\n\n\"I remember, sir, when I was a boy, we used to call those twelve pillars\nthat the ladies are putting the flowers on, the _twelve Apostles_,\" said\nold Matthew.\n\n\"It's a common number in large churches,\" replied the Vicar, \"and the\nname for them which you remember is not an unusual one. I remember one\nchurch where there are eleven pillars, and the old sexton told me they\nstood for eleven of the Apostles, and that there would have been twelve,\nbut Judas was omitted. The pillars of the church, as the chief supports\nof the fabric, are said to represent the Apostles, Prophets, and\nMartyrs[171]. As I have often told you, there is hardly a part of the\nchurch without its special meaning: 'even the smallest details should\nhave a meaning, or serve a purpose[172],' and whatever has a meaning\nserves a purpose, and whatever serves a purpose, has a meaning, and a\nvery important one too. The four main walls of the building have a\nsimilar meaning to the pillars. They are supposed to represent the four\nEvangelists[173]. The stones of which they are composed represent\nChristians--the living stones of the spiritual building[174]; the\ncement which joins them together is charity, 'the bond of\nperfectness[175]' which binds together the members of the Christian\nChurch. The door[176] represents the means of entrance to the invisible\nkingdom; the windows remind us of that sacred presence which keeps out\nthe storm of angry and sinful life, and admits the light of Christ and\nHis Word. You see, Matthew, the old church builders were themselves\n_Churchmen_; sometimes even bishops were famous architects, like\nGundulph, Bishop of Rochester, and William of Wykeham, Bishop of\nWinchester; and then they made themselves felt in all their works--I\nmean, they gave a religious character and meaning to all parts of the\nstructure they reared. And so there were always a hundred preachers in\nthe Church, though not a tongue uttered a single word.\"\n\n\"I understand what you mean, sir--the stones were the preachers.\"\n\n\"Just so, Matthew; and then the churches were always open, and people\nused to go and meditate and pray there at all hours; for in church they\nfound themselves surrounded by so much that reminded them of Heaven and\nGod's presence, and sacred things, and so little to remind them of the\nworld and of sin, that they could think and pray there better than any\nwhere else. But in after times the old churches became neglected and\ndilapidated, and the new churches were so mean and cold and bare, that\nthere was every thing to chill and nothing to warm devotion, and so\npeople gave up the good old custom of going to hear the stones preach,\nand to say their daily prayers to God in His sanctuary. But the time is\ncoming back again, I am thankful to say, and church builders are again\ngood Churchmen, and regard the building of churches as a sacred art and\na religious work; and the people are less contented to be ignorant about\nthese things; and the churches are no longer closed from Sunday night to\nthe next Sunday morning, as they used to be.\"\n\n\"I haven't read my Bible right, Mr. Ambrose, if it isn't a very wicked\nthing to allow God's House to go to decay. In our old church people\nseemed to have forgotten all about the '_beauty_ of holiness,' both in\ntheir manner of worship and in the house where they worshipped. They had\ntheir own houses 'ceiled with cedar and painted with vermilion,' and\nthis house was 'laid waste[177].' I have been told how grand Queen\nVictoria's Palace is, and how beautiful the Parliament House is, and I\nhave often thought that surely, sir, the house of the great King of\nkings, and the great Ruler of all our rulers should be grand and\nbeautiful too. But our churchwardens not only didn't try to make the old\nchurch beautiful, sir, but hid as much as possible of whatever beauty\nthey found.\"\n\n\"Too true, my friend,\" said the Vicar: \"these old pillars had become so\ncoated over with whitewash that their rich carved work could hardly be\nseen at all. Whitewash was the cheapest thing they could use to hide the\ngreen damp and the plaster patches, and for that reason I suppose they\nused it.\"\n\nThe work of decoration went on rapidly; the many busy hands soon\neffected a wonderful change in the appearance of the church, which gave\nit a very festive character. The choicest flowers were placed at the\nback of the altar, others were used in various ecclesiastical designs,\nor woven into wreaths of evergreens. The texts of Holy Scripture painted\nabove the arches from pillar to pillar were neatly framed in borders of\nevergreens, and wreaths of the same were already twined around many of\nthe columns[178].\n\nThe capitals of all the pillars were carved in imitation of the many\nwild flowers and ferns which grew in the neighbourhood[179]. Although\nthese had been carved not less than five hundred years ago, the same\nwild flowers were still to be found in the parish; and every year on\nAscension Day it was the custom at St. Catherine's to decorate each of\nthese pillars with the same natural flowers that had been imitated in\nstone. It was a pretty custom, for as the natural leaves and flowers\nfaded or were removed, their more enduring likenesses were disclosed,\nand remained throughout the year the faithful representatives of their\nbright and gay originals.\n\n\"Well, my dear,\" said the Vicar, addressing Ellen Walton, his\nchurchwarden's little daughter, \"you have really shown great taste in\narranging those ferns; they look beautiful indeed.\"\n\n\"I deserve but little credit, sir, for any taste of my own,\" she\nreplied, \"for I have but copied the stone carving as near as I could.\"\n\n\"Yes, but you _do_ deserve great credit, as every body does who copies\nexactly that which is worth copying. The workman who so cleverly\nimitated in stone these beautiful works of God, in order to adorn God's\nHouse throughout the year with memorials of His goodness in making our\nsummer fields so lovely, deserved much praise; and now, though yours is\na lighter task, that you have given life, as it were, to his work, by\nyour nice arrangement of leaf to leaf, and flower to flower, I must give\nyou some praise too. But I see you are anxious to ask me a question.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir. I was talking to Sally Strike this morning about the\ndecorations, and she says they are all nonsense and unmeaning; she says,\ntoo, it's very wicked to put flowers about the church, for it's nothing\nbut a heathen and idolatrous custom. Of course, I don't much notice what\nshe says about it, but I don't very well know what to answer her, and I\nwas going to ask you, sir, to be kind enough to tell me.\"\n\n\"Sally Strike doesn't often say any thing very wise, my dear, and this\nis no exception to the rule. You had better answer her out of her own\nmouth. Ask her, when she gathered all the flowers her own garden could\nproduce to decorate the little 'Rehoboth'--as they call that\nmeeting-house on Wanderer's Heath--when they held their last 'love\nfeast,' and had tea and cake in their chapel, did she put the flowers\nthere to make the place look gloomy, or to make it look festive and gay?\nOr, why did she do the same thing a little while ago, when they gave a\nchildren's treat in their meeting-house? Was it because it was a time of\nsadness or of rejoicing? No doubt, she will tell you it was the latter.\nWell, we decorate our churches for a similar reason. We regard all the\nChristian festivals as seasons for great gladness and rejoicing, and\nwhilst at other times we are obliged, for the most part, to content\nourselves with such ornamentation of God's House as our own poor\nimitations of the forms and colours of Nature can supply, on these high\ndays we press into the service of the temple the lovely originals of all\nthose forms and colours, fresh and pure as when they first left the hand\nof their Divine Maker.\n\n\"'Tis true that the heathen used flowers in decorating their temples and\naltars, and also their victims prepared for sacrifice[180]. But they\nused them just as Sally Strike uses them at her meeting-house, for the\n_sole_ purpose of _decoration_. Now, though we use flowers to give a\nfestive appearance to our churches, our use of them has, too, always a\nmeaning beyond that: how they remind us of the _love of God_ in arraying\nthis earth with so much beauty for our enjoyment; how they remind us of\nthe pure and lovely delights of the Paradise that is lost; and of our\nfuture resurrection[181] to a Paradise of yet greater beauty. And it is\nfrom our Bibles that we learn to give, too, an _emblematic_ meaning to\nparticular flowers, so that, whether carved by man, or moulded by the\nhand of Nature, each one teaches its own useful lesson. There we find\nthe lily mentioned as the emblem of God's providence; the rose as the\ntype of youthful beauty; the cedar, of manly strength. Nay, my dear\nEllen, we may even find in Holy Scripture itself our authority for\ndecorating our churches with these pure and unsinning works of God. You\nremember, no doubt, the verse to which I allude: 'The glory of Lebanon\nshall come unto thee: the fir-tree, the pine-tree, and the box together,\nto beautify the place of My sanctuary[182]'.\"\n\n\"Thank you, sir, I quite understand your explanation. But Sally Strike\nsaid she didn't object to the way the church used to be decorated thirty\nyears ago, when plain twigs of evergreen were put at the corners of the\npews, and some large branches fixed here and there on the walls; but she\ndoes not like the triangles and circles and crosses, and the other\ndesigns we now use.\"\n\n\"And yet nothing could be more silly than the dislike, though I fear it\nis one in which many--for mere want of thought--share. Surely, the\ntwigs themselves must be at least as harmless when bound together as\nwhen used singly; and certainly it is better that they should be formed\ninto beautiful and religiously _suggestive_ designs, than scattered\nunmeaningly about the church. The cross, often repeated, reminds us, you\nknow, of the one grand pervading truth of our religion; the circle, of\neternity; the triangle, of the Holy Trinity. We almost even forget the\nbeauty of the design itself in the beauty of its symbol.\"\n\n\n\n\n_CHAPTER XXVIII_\n\nTHE ROOF\n\n\n\"Thou shalt overlay it with pure gold, the roof thereof.\"\n\nExod. xxx. 3.\n\n\n \"Give all thou canst; high heaven rejects the lore\n Of nicely calculated less or more:\n So deem'd the man who fashion'd for the sense\n These lofty pillars,--spread that branching roof,\n Self-poised, and scoped into ten thousand cells,\n Where light and shade repose, where music dwells\n Ling'ring and wand'ring on, as loth to die,\n Like thoughts whose very sweetness yieldeth proof\n That they were born for immortality.\"\n\n WORDSWORTH.\n\n\nIllustration: Keynsham Church\n\n\n\n\nTHE ROOF\n\n\n\"I'm glad to see you both among the helpers to-day,\" said the Vicar, as\nhe shook hands with William Hardy and Richard Atkinson, \"though I know\nthis must cost you at least the value of a day's work.\"\n\nThe village carpenter and mason were always accustomed on these\noccasions to give their services gratuitously.\n\n\"Very glad indeed to come and do the best we can, sir,\" replied William\nHardy, \"though we couldn't quite agree about it at home, my wife and me,\ntill we'd talked it over a bit.\"\n\nNow Hardy's wife, though not generally unamiable, was like many other\nwives in this respect; namely, she had acquired a habit of always\nquestioning the wisdom or sincerity of her husband's actions, which she\ncould now no more shake off than she could her own identity.\n\n\"I'm sorry to hear that,\" said the Vicar; \"but how was it?\"\n\n\"Well, you see, sir, my wife says to me, 'William, you might turn your\ntime to better account than going up to the church with Richard Atkinson\nto-day. You'd be able to earn five shillings, and that would just pay\nfor the new ribbon for my bonnet, which indeed I do want very much.' 'I\nreally believe you do, my dear,' says I, 'and so I must just alter my\nplans a little. I thought I wanted a new Sunday hat very much indeed,\nand I was just going to buy one at Master Dole's the other day, when\nthinks I to myself--no, I mustn't buy it, because I shall lose a day's\nearnings at church next week, so I'll give the new hat to the church,\nand have one for myself six months hence. But that's no reason why you\nshould lose your ribbons, so I'll over-work for a few days, and earn the\nribbons that way.' You see, Mr. Ambrose, I was thinking of that text,\n'God forbid that I should offer to the Lord my God of that which doth\ncost me nothing.' Well, sir, them words softened her a good deal; but\nthen she says to me, 'William, what's the _use_ of all them ornaments at\nthe church? I really do call it waste of time and money.' 'My dear,'\nsays I, 'there's something better than _use_, I mean as you and I talk\nof use, there is such a thing as doing things out of love and reverence\nfor God, and for nothing else, and that's what I should like to do if I\ncan. There wasn't no more _use_ in the precious ointment which the good\nwoman poured on our Saviour's head, than in these ornaments we put up in\nHis church. And you know who it was that called that a _waste_, and you\nknow who it was too that praised her for what she did[183].' 'I think\nyou're right,' says she; and so I came away.\"\n\n\"And so you were, my friend. But it's hard to persuade people that there\nis such a thing as _a worship of adoration_, prompted simply by a sense\nof love, gratitude, veneration, entirely apart from all idea of benefit,\nadvantage, or use to ourselves in _any way_. As you rightly say,\nhowever, _there is_.--But I see the children have finished the frames\nfor the clerestory[184] windows, so you had better put them up.\"\n\n\"You mean the windows just under the roof, sir?\"\n\n\"Yes; it is not safe for them to climb so high.\"\n\n\"I suppose you won't attempt to carry your decorations higher than that,\nMr. Vicar?\" said the Squire, as he approached to see how the work was\ngoing on.\n\n\"No, that must satisfy us. Indeed, this roof is so rich in colour and\ncarving that we could hardly make it look more festive than it does.\"\n\n\"It is, indeed, a grand old roof; but I rather prefer the high-pitched\nroof of the chancel to this flatter one of the nave, though certainly\nnothing can be more beautiful than its carving. The figures of angels on\nthe corbels[185] supporting the principal timbers are exceedingly well\ndone. What do you imagine to be the dates of these two roofs?\"\n\n\"I should say that that in the chancel was built about A.D. 1350, and\nthis in the nave about A.D. 1500. These flatter roofs of our\nperpendicular period do not any of them date much farther back than A.D.\n1500[186].\"\n\n\"I quite agree with you in preferring the older high-pitch for our\ntimber roofs. By-the-bye, it is a curious conception that this\nparticular kind of roof has a likeness to the inverted keel of the\nark[187]--itself an emblem of the Christian Church. But I prefer to\nregard it, as I do the windows, and doors, and arches of _pointed_\narchitecture, as an emblem of the _incompleteness_ of our worship here.\nAs I look up through the intricate multitude of timbers, and my gaze\nbecomes lost amid the dark top beams of the roof, my thoughts are\ninsensibly led higher still[188]. There is something in these lofty open\nroofs that always seems to invite one's thoughts _above them_--so\ndifferent from the flat ceilings of most dissenting meeting-houses, and\nsome of our churches built a hundred years ago. To me these flat\nceilings are very depressing.\"\n\n\"Yes; and not a little irritating too, when you consider what splendid\ntimber roofs in old churches, they often conceal. Ugly, however, and\nobjectionable as they are, they have the one merit of being\n_unpretending_; and give me any thing rather than a _sham_--a\nlath-and-plaster roof with papier-mache or stucco bosses, and all sorts\nof painting and shading in perspective, in imitation of wood or stone,\nmaking the poor roof guilty of a perpetual _lie_. I do own that tries my\ntemper immensely!\"\n\n\"There can be no doubt, too, that the high-pitch better suits our\nvariable climate than any other. I fear, however, that many of those\nwhich were built but a few years since are not very enduring. Young, or\nbadly-seasoned wood, thin, poor timbers, which cannot last long, have\ntoo often been put into the roof. Sometimes this has been the dishonest\nact of the builder; but we have been too much in the habit of building\nfor _ourselves only_--not like our forefathers, who put up those big\nmasses of timber over our heads. They built for themselves and for\n_posterity too_.\n\n \"'They dreamt not of a perishable home,\n Who thus could build[189].'\"\n\n\"Ah, yes! and that is, of course, especially true of those who erected\nthe noble _stone_ roofs of our cathedrals, and many parish churches too.\nNothing, of course, can equal the stone roof with its beautiful carvings\nand mouldings, richly gilt and coloured. Nothing like stone for colour!\nHow very beautiful is the deep blue, with its golden stars, over the\naltar in our own cathedral! They look well in our own church, but the\ncolours are richer there, not so much faded. That representation of\nHeaven's canopy mantling over the most holy part of our church always\nseems to me so very appropriate and suggestive.\"\n\n\"It is a matter of surprise to me,\" said the Squire, \"that more care has\nnot generally been taken to beautify the _external_ part of our church\nroofs. What relief is given to the long line of a nave roof by a good\npatterned row of ridge tiles, or by some ornamental ironwork on the\nridge! The gable cross considerably relieves the chancel roof. And\nwhere the roof is of stone, why don't we have richly-carved _external_,\nas well as internal, stone-work? That, to my mind, is the perfection of\na stone roof[190].\"\n\nAt this point, the attention of both was directed to little Harry, old\nMatthew's grandson, who, with a fixed expression of deep thoughtfulness,\nwas looking up to wards the roof of the church.\n\n\"Why so very serious just now, my dear boy? What may your thoughts be\nabout, Harry?\" said the Vicar.\n\n\"Please, sir, I was wondering what they used to do with the\nroof-gallery, where we've been putting the evergreens?\"\n\n\"What does he mean by the roof-gallery?\" said Mr. Acres.\n\n\"Oh, he means the triforium[191].\"\n\n\"I must confess that is still more unintelligible to me. Please explain\nit to me, as well as to Harry, for we are evidently equally ignorant\nabout it.\"\n\n\"The triforium is the gallery you see just above the arches of the\nnave--between them and the clerestory. It is not commonly found in\nparish churches, but I believe all cathedrals have it. It generally\nextends nearly all round the building. There are different opinions as\nto its original purpose. Some suppose that it was reserved for the use\nof women. On the Continent, it has been set apart for young men, or for\nstrangers. It is the opinion of some that it was merely built for\naffording ready access to the various parts of the roof. As an\narchitectural feature, it is very effective, and occupies a space which\nwould otherwise be a blank wall. In this country, however, we know that\nit was often used for a similar purpose to that for which we have now\nbeen using it--the ornamentation of the church on special festivals,\nwhen banners and tapestry and other ornaments were suspended from the\nseveral arches[192].\"\n\n\"I have often, like little Harry, looked up at those arches and wondered\nwhat they were built for; and, not knowing, I came to the conclusion\nthat the passage must have been used for religious processions.\"\n\n\"It is not at all improbable that occasionally they were so used. And I\ncan hardly imagine any thing more solemn than a torch-light procession\nof chanting choristers threading their way round the sacred building,\nthe sound of their voices undulating in solemn cadence as they would\npass the arches of the triforium, and then dying away amid the groined\nor timber roof above them.\"\n\nIllustration: Clerestory Window\n\n\n\n\n_CHAPTER XXIX_\n\nTHE TOWER\n\n\n\"The house that is to be builded for the Lord must be exceeding\nmagnifical.\"\n\n1 Chron. xxii. 5.\n\n\n \"Lift it gently to the steeple,\n Let our bell be set on high;\n There fulfil its daily mission,\n Midway 'twixt the earth and sky.\n\n \"As the birds sing early matins\n To the God of nature's praise,\n This its nobler daily music\n To the God of grace shall raise.\n\n \"And when evening shadows soften\n Chancel-cross, and tower, and aisle,\n It shall blend its vesper summons\n With the day's departing smile.\n\n \"Year by year the steeple-music\n O'er the tended graves shall pour\n Where the dust of saints is garner'd,\n Till the Master comes once more.\"\n\n J. M. NEALE.\n\n\nIllustration: Meopham Church\n\n\n\n\nTHE TOWER\n\n\nWhen the Vicar and the Squire met on their way to church the following\nday, the conversation of the previous evening was thus resumed:--\n\n\"You will, I am sure, agree with me,\" said Mr. Ambrose, \"in regarding\nthe church spire as ever teaching _outside_ the building the same lesson\nthat the open timber roof, as you so truly said yesterday, is teaching\n_inside_. It is always pointing the thoughts of thoughtful men up above\nthe earthly temple.\"\n\n\"Quite so; and, as is the case with many other great teachers, the\nearthly fabric has, I believe, in both these cases, a very humble\norigin; for as the grandest cathedral roof is but a development of the\nsimple _tent_ which formed the early habitation of the once rude\ninhabitants of this and other countries, so has its lofty and elegant\nspire gradually raised itself from the low and unpretending roof which\ncovered in the towers of our earliest parish churches.\n\n\"I am inclined myself to think that, as a matter of taste and beauty, no\nchurch tower is complete without a spire in some form[193], and it is a\nquestion whether, in every case, the tower was not at first built with a\nview to such an ornament. The termination with a flat or only embattled\ncornice does not harmonize well with pointed architecture; the spiral\nform seems to me the only appropriate termination; and, as you say, the\nsymbolic teaching of this part of the building depends upon it. And yet,\nthough it may almost seem a contradiction to what I have said, the spire\nalways needs some object for the eye to rest upon at its summit. The\ntime-honoured _weather-cock_ which every body knows to be the emblem of\n_watchfulness_, seems by far the most convenient and suitable, though I\nam aware that other forms--such as a dragon, and a boat--are fixed to\nthe summits of some spires.\"\n\n\"We do not generally succeed well,\" said Mr. Ambrose, \"in our imitations\nof the Norman style of architecture. Its extreme massiveness, on which\nso much of its beauty depends, renders it very costly; and if this is\nabandoned, as it often is, for the sake of saving expense, and only the\ndetails of the style are copied, whilst the walls are thin and\nunsubstantial, the building has always a mean and cardboard appearance.\nBut where the style is faithfully carried out, it is a matter of\nsurprise to me that the _round_ tower is not more often adopted. It\nharmonizes so well with the semi-circular arches and the apsidal\ntermination of the chancel. We have, you know, many splendid examples of\nsuch towers[194]. It is true, indeed, that the architects may in some\ncases have adopted this form, in places where there was difficulty in\nobtaining the stone required for the corners of a square tower, as being\nthe most convenient for a building composed of flint only; but that they\ndid not always choose this form as a mere matter of convenience, and not\nfor its own peculiar beauty, is evident from the fact that in the\nconstruction of some round towers not only flint, but also stone, is\nlargely employed. The objection to these towers, founded on the\nsupposition that they are not adapted for the use of bells, may, I\nthink, be easily met by a little constructional arrangement of the\ninterior of the belfry.\"\n\n\"The erection of towers _detached_ from the church has not, I am glad to\nsay, gained much favour in this country[195]. They certainly lose much\nof their beauty when separated from the main building. The custom,\nhowever, greatly prevails in Italy. The appropriation of a portion of\nthe tower as a priest's chamber is, I believe, far more common with us\nthan it is abroad[196].\"\n\nAt this moment the bells of St. Catherine's commenced a cheerful peal.\n\n\"After all,\" said the Vicar, \"_that sound_ indicates the real purpose of\nthe tower.\"\n\n\"True enough,\" answered Mr. Acres; \"no doubt our towers were built to\nhold the _bells_[197]; and so, if the tower is good and sound, and the\nbells are there, we must not complain if the spire is wanting.\"\n\n\"Yes; but I wish the bells were under better control than they commonly\nare.\"\n\n\"Ah, so indeed do I. There's no part of the church so much desecrated as\nthe tower. Now, I grieve for this; for to my mind there's no music so\ndelightful as that of the church bells, provided there is nothing in the\noccasion of their being rung which grates upon one's feelings. I often\nthink of the story of a savage people who had never seen a church bell\nbefore, when for the first time they heard it ringing, they believed\nthat it was _talking_ to them[198]. There is certainly no music that\n_speaks_ to us like that of the church bells. What call is there more\neloquent than the chimes 'going for church'? What voice more reproachful\nthan theirs to one who disobeys their summons? What sound so solemn as\nthe deep-toned knell? What so happy as the marriage peal? Ah, my dear\nfriend, you and I know full well what joys and sorrows, what hopes and\nfears, the dear old church bells can tell of. How the old memories of\nhalf-forgotten home-scenes come back to us when we listen to their merry\nChristmas ringing! Nothing like them to fill the arm-chairs that have so\nlong stood empty, to tenant the old places with the once familiar forms\nwhich have long gone from us! Nothing like them to bring back the dear\nold voices and the dear old faces; nothing like them to put back the old\nfurniture in its old places again; nothing like them to revive the\nbright and happy hours that are past! Then, somehow, the bells always\nseem to adapt their voices to each particular season. What joyful hope\nthere was in their music at Easter! a still gladder song they sing\nto-day. They seem to me to have their own peculiar utterance for Sunday\nand for saints' day, for fast and for festival. What a joyful song of\nthanksgiving they sang at our harvest festival last year! I shall never\nforget what the bells said to me on that day.\n\n\"You must forgive me, my dear Vicar, for intruding this long rhapsody\ninto our conversation, my fondness for the music of church bells is so\nintense, that I fear you will consider the expression of my admiration\nto be quite childish. I don't mean to say they always make me feel\ncheerful and happy. Oh, no, they don't do that; but most commonly they\ninduce a sort of pleasant melancholy--harmless, and even good in\nmoderation, but morbid in excess. These simple lines exactly express\nwhat I often feel when the bells are ringing:--\n\n \"When twilight steals along the ground,\n And all the bells are ringing round,\n One, two, three, four, and five;\n I at my study window sit,\n And, wrapt in many a musing fit,\n To bliss am all alive.\n\n \"But though impressions calm and sweet\n Thrill round my heart a holy heat,\n And I am inly glad,\n A tear-drop stands in either eye,\n And yet, I cannot tell thee why,\n _I'm pleased, and yet I'm sad_[199].\"\n\nIllustration: Tower, Saragosa\n\n\"I know the feeling well,\" said Mr. Ambrose; \"we love the _silent\neloquence_ of each feature of the church's fabric as we love the vivid\nexpression of each feature of a dear friend, and we love--as we love his\nfamiliar voice--the well-known _uttered language_ of the old church\ntower.\"\n\n\"Yes; and not more discordant would be the merry voice of a friend, with\na heart bowed down with sorrow, than seems to me a merry peal of the\nchurch bells, with the penitential seasons of the Christian year. I\ngreatly admire your custom of only ringing three bells during Lent and\nAdvent, and tolling a single bell on Good Friday. The contrast to the\nusual joyful chimes cannot fail to strike every one.\"\n\n\"I am most thankful that in our parish we have a set of bellringers who\nreally feel a proper interest in the work, and regard theirs as a\n_religious_ office. I have only allowed men of well-known steady habits\nand good moral character to be among them. From the time I came here, as\nyou know, I have been their president, and have always attended their\nannual dinners. Then their _rules_[200] are good. No drinking is allowed\nin the belfry, no one is allowed to wear his hat there, and no loud and\nboisterous language is permitted: any one using offensive words or\nswearing is at once expelled. In fact, I think we do all that can be\ndone to teach the ringers that they are engaged in a religious duty, in\na part of _God's house_. I am fully sensible that much of our success is\ndue to your influence among them, and I very much wish that more Church\nlaymen in your position would follow your example, and take part in the\n_actual ringing_ of the church bells[201]. On one occasion, long ago, I\nhad some difficulty with our ringers. You remember old Sir Perrygal\nBiber? a greater profligate or drunkard perhaps never lived. He had wit\nenough, however, to secure his election for the county, and money enough\nto reward those who voted for him. I am sorry to say that in many\nparishes the church bells, which had once been solemnly dedicated to\nGod's service, were impressed to do honour to that man, whose immorality\nwas patent to the whole county. Our ringers naturally thought that what\nwas not wrong elsewhere would not be wrong here, and so begged\npermission to follow the example of their neighbours. However, they were\ngood fellows, and open to reason. I explained to them first that our\nchurch bells had nothing whatever to do with mere secular matters, such\nas the election of a member of Parliament; and then I showed them that\ntheir neighbours were specially wrong in this instance, because they\nwere employing what was intended for God's service in doing honour to an\nimpious man. I believe they were all of them, at heart, glad to get out\nof it; and, in fact, would never have thought of ringing at all had not\nWilliam Strike put it into their heads. Since then they have not caused\nme a moment's trouble.\n\n\"The church bells have, alas! often been sadly ill-used; sometimes\nbroken up and employed for secular purposes[202]; sometimes sold to pay\nthe cost of repairing the building: but this, to my mind, is not half so\nbad as their desecration when rung on improper occasions.\"\n\n\"No doubt, Mr. Vicar, you have often read with interest the very quaint\nlegends which are to be found on many church bells. I very much like the\nterse Latin sentences, and the oft-repeated '_Jesu, miserere mei_,' we\nmeet with on the oldest of them. Not a few, too, of the more modern\nbells have simple pious inscriptions[203]. But there are some, both\nancient and modern, that have foolish or otherwise objectionable\nsentences upon them[204]. In some cases they are merely laudatory of\nthe donor; in others of the founder, or of the churchwardens of the\nparish. I should think, however, that there is scarcely a peal of bells\nin the country, except, perhaps, a few very recently cast, but possesses\nsome both interesting and instructive inscriptions. Of course, many\nvolumes would be filled with them, could they be all collected. I once\ncopied one of these legends which much pleased me, but I cannot now call\nto mind where I found it. Let me repeat it to you.\n\n 'Men's death I tell by doleful knell,\n Lightning and thunder I break asunder,\n On Sabbath all to church I call,\n The sleepy head I raise from bed,\n The winds so fierce I do disperse,\n Men's cruel rage I do assuage.'\"\n\n\"It was a curious conceit, which I suppose every body once accepted,\nthat the ringing of the church bells cleared the air of all evil and\ndiscordant spirits, and caused the storm and the tempest to cease. But\nthe Church had another and a better reason for ordering the bells to be\nrung at such times; and that was, 'that the faithful might be admonished\nto be urgent in prayer for the instant danger[205].' I like the idea of\nthe Church bell inviting to _private prayer_ as well as public worship,\nbut we have almost lost it. The _passing bell_ used to ask the private\nprayers of the faithful in behalf of the spirit passing from earth. This\nwas truly a Christian custom; nevertheless, I see difficulties in the\nway of its general revival.\"\n\n\"_You_ have not, however, lost sight, my dear friend, of the invitation\nto _private_ devotion as associated with church bells; for it is in this\nlight I regard the ringing of the little sancte bell just before the\nconsecration of the elements at the celebration of Holy Communion. I\nwas very glad when you restored the old bell to its little turret over\nthe chancel arch; and I know that when it is rung, many who cannot come\nto church bend their knees and join heartily with us in our prayers and\nadoration.\"\n\n\"Yes, that is a good old practice of the early Church, and I am very\nglad to know that its revival has been a blessing and a comfort to many\nby awakening solemn thought and earnest prayer.\"\n\nIllustration: Window, Church of St. Petronius, Bologna\n\n\n\n\n_CHAPTER XXX_\n\nTHE HOUSE NOT MADE WITH HANDS\n\n\n\"Ye also, as lively stones, are built up a spiritual house.\"\n\n1 Pet. ii. 5.\n\n\n \"One sweetly solemn thought\n Comes to me o'er and o'er,--\n I'm nearer home to-day\n Than I have been before;\n\n \"Nearer my Father's House,\n Where the many mansions be,\n Nearer the great white Throne,\n Nearer the jasper sea;\n\n \"Nearer the bound of life,\n Where we lay our burdens down,\n Nearer leaving the Cross,\n Nearer gaining the Crown.\"\n\n CAREY\n\n\n\n\nTHE HOUSE NOT MADE WITH HANDS\n\n\n\"I must just go up for a minute to see poor Matthew. I hear he is not\nquite so well,\" said the Vicar, as he parted from his companion, and\nentered the little door that led up to the old sexton's chamber.\n\n\"My dear friend,\" said the Vicar, taking the old man's trembling hand,\n\"I see you are still very weak; but I trust you are not suffering much?\"\n\n\"Weak, very, sir; but, thank God, no pain. I feel, however, that the end\ncan't be very far off. You must look out for another sexton, sir, for\nold Matthew's work is nearly over.\"\n\n\"_His_ will be done,\" said the Vicar; and the old man breathed a solemn\n\"Amen,\" which seemed spoken for no earthly ears.\n\n\"I've been thinking,\" at length said Matthew, \"that it's ten years since\nyou and I, sir, and Mr. Acres, met at the old lych gate in that terrible\nstorm. I remember I said then that it wouldn't be long before some\nyounger ones would have to carry me through the gate, but God has spared\nme these ten years more, and now I shall need none to bear me through\nthe gate; for here I am--thanks to your kindness, sir--already within\nthe gate, and even within the House of God itself.\"\n\n\"Yes; and so when God calls you to Himself, He will but take you from\none temple to another--from the courts of His House here, to live for\never in His heavenly mansions. 'Those that be planted in the House of\nthe Lord shall flourish in the courts of our God[206].'\"\n\n\"If you please, sir, I should like to be buried beside little Lizzie\nDaniels. 'Tis long ago now since I made that little grave, and I fear\nthe flower-bed is a good deal overgrown with grass, for I have been too\npoorly to look after it as I used to; but I think you'll know it, sir.\nShe helped in her own quiet, simple way to teach an old man the way to\nHeaven; and I have never forgotten her lessons. How often she used to\ntalk about this day--Ascension Day! She once said to me, sir, that you\nhad told her we ought to remember this day throughout the year, and to\ntry and lead an _Ascension_ life, and let our thoughts and desires dwell\nas much as possible where our Saviour has gone before. I have tried to\ndo so--God forgive me, for I have often failed!\"\n\nHe then drew the Vicar nearer to him, and whispered in his ear, \"Be good\nto dear little Harry, sir, when I'm gone. He loves me so, I fear 'twill\nbreak his heart.\"\n\nThe \"parson's bell,\" as it was called, was now ringing, so the Vicar,\nhaving promised that his wishes should be fully carried out, was\ncompelled to hasten into the church. He first laid his hand on the noble\nbrow of the good old man, and pronounced the blessing of Heaven upon\nhim, and then bade him farewell, adding, \"I hope, my dear friend, we may\nbe permitted to meet again in this earthly house of God; but if not, my\nheart-deep hope and prayer is, that we may meet in His house not made\nwith hands, eternal in the heavens[207].\"\n\nThe little window that looked into the church from the sexton's chamber\nwas opened, and none listened more earnestly to the festive service, and\nto the Vicar's sermon, on that Ascension Day than did old Matthew\nHutchinson.\n\nAlthough it was a common practice with the Vicar on festivals not to\npreach from any particular passage of Holy Scripture, but simply to make\nthe festival itself the subject of his discourse, yet on this occasion\nhe selected these words as his text: \"The patterns of things in the\nheavens[208].\" He showed how that all this world of ours, in which so\nmuch that is beautiful and lovely has survived the fall, is full of\npatterns, or symbols, or types of things in that Heaven to which Christ\nhas ascended; how that the whole Bible abounds with the most vivid\nsymbolism and the most graphic imagery representative of the glories of\nthat Heavenly kingdom; and then, looking round the beautiful church, now\nso richly adorned with its festive decorations, he explained how the\nearthly building, in its several parts, possessed a thousand patterns of\nthose heavenly things which make up the spiritual fabric of the Church\nof Christ. \"When we regard the material fabric of the Christian Church,\"\nhe said, \"as a type of the spiritual house, ever rising higher and\nhigher in honour of its Divine Founder, of which the saints on earth and\nthe saints in Heaven are the living stones, we are arraying the noblest\nwork of man with its grandest and most exalted dignity. 'Ye are built\nupon the _foundations_ of the Apostles and Prophets,' writes St. Paul to\nthe Church of Ephesus, 'Jesus Christ Himself being the chief _corner\nstone_; in whom all the building fitly framed together groweth unto an\nholy _temple_ in the Lord: in whom ye also are builded together for an\nhabitation of God through the Spirit[209].' Here, in the symbol of the\n_foundation stones_ of the material structure, we have represented to\nus, as it were, at one view, all those heavenly graces and blessings\nwhich from the day of Pentecost down to this time have flowed to God's\npeople through the visible ministry and appointed ordinances of the\nChristian Church. Then, under the figure of the _corner stone_--the key\nstone of the edifice--we have gathered up all those old prophecies and\ntypes which pointed on forward, through the sufferings and death of the\nSaviour, up to the time when, having established His Church in the\nworld, He should be Himself the heavenly life of its living members.\nLong had it been 'contained in the Scriptures: Behold, I lay in Zion a\nchief _corner stone_, elect, precious; and he that believeth on Him\nshall not be confounded[210],' and in the fulness of time 'the stone\nwhich the builders refused became the _head stone of the corner_[211].'\n\n\"And next see, my friends, how the figure is carried out by the two\nApostles, St. Paul and St. Peter, so as to embrace all the faithful\nmembers of Christ's Church. They are represented by St. Paul as 'the\nwhole _building fitly framed together_[212],' and by St. Peter, as the\nliving stones which compose this living temple--'Ye also as _lively\nstones_ are built up a _spiritual house_[213].' And this figure of a\nliving temple is thus constantly employed by the sacred writers: 'Know\nye not that your bodies are the _Temple of God_?' writes St. Paul to the\nCorinthian Church; and, again, 'Ye are the _Temple of the living\nGod_[214].' St. Jude is following out the same idea when he exhorts\nChristians to _build up themselves in their most holy faith_.\"\n\nThe Vicar ended his sermon with an earnest, practical application of the\nsubject. \"Let me entreat you, my dear friends, often to suffer the\nsolemn thoughts which this sacred symbol suggests to dwell on your\nminds: '_The temple of the Lord_ is holy, which temple _ye are_.' Holy\nProphets and Holy Apostles, and confessors, and martyrs, are the\nfoundation of the sacred building; the Holy Jesus is the corner stone,\nin whom ye--the living stones--must be _fitly framed together_. Mark, my\nfriends, there must be _no schism, no division, no rent or fissure_,\nthat ye may be a spiritual house perfect in all its parts, and pure in\nall its adornments. Oh, then, cherish that heavenly life within you,\nwhich alone can keep the building compact and firm! Be fruitful in good\nworks. Remember faith without works is not living, but _dead_[215]. 'Put\non charity, which is the _bond of perfectness_[216],' and will be the\nbest evidence to God and man, and to your own souls, that you possess a\nliving faith; that you are, indeed, _living stones in a living temple_.\nBe sure the cement that must unite the living stones of the spiritual\nhouse is brotherly love and fervent charity. Without these, the house\nwill be divided against itself; its walls will be 'daubed with\nuntempered mortar[217],' and, instead of living stones, there will be\nbut the dead, outlying blocks of a ruined house. 'Except the Lord build\nthe house, their labour is but lost that build it[218].'\n\n\"Be it yours, then, 'by patient continuance in _well doing_, to seek for\nglory and immortality[219]' in that 'house eternal in the heavens, whose\nBuilder and Maker is God.' Learn to see in the whole earth, and air, and\nsky--with their countless beauties and wondrous harmonies--reflections\nof the glories of Heaven, and promises of the coming bliss of eternity.\nLearn to read lessons of wisdom and religion from the many instructive\npatterns, and symbols, and emblems in nature, and in art, with which you\nare ever surrounded. Thus go on, day by day, advancing nearer to your\nmansion in Heaven. Thus, in these earthly temples of Jehovah, be ever\npurifying your hearts, and attuning your voices to share in that\nglorious song of the Lamb when the sweet music of angels' harps shall\nvibrate on this regenerate earth, when her ten thousand choirs shall\njoin with theirs in joyful harmony--and melt their united praises in one\nnever-ending rapture, singing, 'Holy, holy, holy, Lord God Almighty,\nwhich was, and is, and is to come;' 'Blessing and honour, and glory and\npower be unto Him that sitteth upon the Throne, and unto the Lamb for\never and ever[220].'\"\n\nIn the prayer for the Church militant, which followed the sermon, the\nVicar paused longer than usual when he prayed God to _succour and\ncomfort those who were in sickness_. All knew that he was inviting a\nspecial prayer for the old man whom all the village loved; and had they\nbeen offered for the proudest potentate, the most learned philosopher,\nor even the greatest philanthropist that ever lived, the prayers that\nwent up to Heaven amid that solemn silence for him \"for whom the prayers\nof the Church were desired,\" could not have been more fervid and\nsincere. When Mr. Ambrose proceeded with the prayer, a slight stir in\nthe porch chamber was heard by those near at hand, but it was little\nnoticed.\n\nAt the conclusion of the service Mr. Acres met the Vicar in the vestry.\n\n\"I should like,\" said he, \"to go with you to see our poor old friend\nonce more.\"\n\n\"It will probably be the last time,\" replied the Vicar, \"for he was\nevidently sinking when I saw him before service. I told little Harry to\ngo up to him as soon as we had sung the last hymn.\"\n\nBoth went up together. The Vicar was not mistaken. Calm and peaceful,\nwithout a line of care or pain, there lay the placid face, and the eyes\nwere closed in the last, long sleep. One hand lay motionless upon the\nbed, grasped by his little grandson, who was kneeling beside him, still\nrobed in the snow-white surplice with which he had recently left the\nchoir.\n\n\"Poor little fellow!\" said the Vicar; \"I will keep my promise to the old\nman. He shall not be left without a friend, though his best is gone.\"\n\nBut Mr. Acres saw that the little hands were white as the aged hand they\nclasped.\n\n\"He's with a better Friend now, my dear Vicar,\" said he, \"than this\nearth can give him. We shall hear his sweet voice no more in our choir\nhere; he has gone to join the choir of angels in a nobler temple than\nours.\"\n\nOld Matthew's words were true; the loving little heart was broken. The\nold oak had fallen, and crushed the tender sapling as it fell[221]. On\nthe morning of Trinity Sunday, there stood under the old yew-tree of St.\nCatherine's churchyard, three little stone crosses side-by-side, where\nbut one had been before.\n\nTHE END\n\nGILBERT AND RIVINGTON, PRINTERS, ST. JOHN'S SQUARE, LONDON.\n\n\n\n\nFootnotes\n\n\n1: In some parts of Devonshire and Cornwall, Lich-Gates are called\n\"Trim-Trams.\" The origin of this word is not easy to determine; it is\nprobably only a nickname.\n\n2: Anglo-Saxon, _lic_,--a dead body. In Germany the word _leiche_ has\ndoubtless the same original; it is still used to signify a corpse or\nfuneral. The German _leichengang_ has precisely the same meaning as our\n_Lich-Gate_.\n\n3: It is stated in _Britton's Antiquities_ that there was formerly a\nLych-Gate in a lane called Lych-lane in Gloucester, where the body of\nEdward II. rested on its way to burial in the Cathedral.\n\n4: A Lyke-wake dirge:--\n\n \"This ae nighte, this ae nighte,\n Every nighte and alle;\n Fire and sleete, and candle lighte,\n And Christe receive theye saule.\"\n\n (Scott's \"_Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border_.\")\n\n5: On the Lich-Gate at Bray, Berks, is the date 1448; but there are very\nfew examples so early.\n\n6: The following are among the most interesting of the ancient\nLich-Gates still remaining:-- Beckenham, Lincolnshire; Berry-Harbor,\nDevonshire; Birstal, York; Bromsgrove, Worcestershire; Burnside,\nWestmoreland; Compton, Berkshire; Garsington, Oxon; Tawstock,\nDevonshire; West Wickham, Kent; and Worth, Sussex. The construction of\nthe gate at Burnside is very curious, and Tawstock Lich-Gate possesses\npeculiar features of interest, which are noticed in the next Chapter.\nOne of the finest Lich-Gates was at Arundel, in Surrey, but it has been\nremoved, and is now the Church Porch.\n\n7: St. John xi. 25. The first words of the Burial Office, said by the\nPriest at the entrance to the Churchyard.\n\n8: A very interesting paper on Lich-Gates, in the \"Clerical Journal,\"\naffords much information on this subject. Over the gate at Bray are \"two\nchambers, connected with an ancient charitable bequest.\"\n\n9: This chamber was formerly called the Chapel of the Holy Rood.\n\n10: The custom of distributing \"cakes and ale\" at the churchyard on the\noccasion of funerals in Scotland, has been but very recently given up.\nDean Ramsey, in his interesting \"anecdotes,\" has informed us that at the\nburial of the Chief of a clan, many thousands would sometimes assemble,\nand not unfrequently the funeral would end in a disgraceful riot.\n\n11: In Cornwall the now common practice of placing a wreath of white\nflowers on the coffin is a very ancient and still prevailing usage.\n\n12: Consecrated Bishop of Exeter A.D. 1598.\n\n13: These crosses were erected at the following places:--Lincoln,\nNorthampton, Dunstable, St. Alban's, Waltham, Stratford, Cheapside,\nBlackfriars, and Charing; those at Waltham and Northampton alone remain.\nThe statue of King Charles now stands where the Charing (\"Chere Reine\")\nCross formerly stood.\n\n14: In a churchyard in Oxfordshire, a large altar-tomb, surrounded by\niron railings, occupying a space of ground in which at least thirty\npersons might be buried, covers the grave of an infant of three months.\n\nThe erection of these masses of stone without restraint would make our\nchurchyards only the burial-places of the rich, and would soon entirely\nexclude the poor from a place in them; whereas the poor have an equal\nclaim with the rich to be buried there, and when buried, the same title\nto respect and protection.\n\n15: The urns which are placed upon so many tombs in our cemeteries and\nchurchyards, unless they have reference to the heathen custom of burning\nthe dead, and placing the ashes in funeral urns, can have no meaning at\nall. We moreover not unfrequently see a gilded flame issuing from these\nurns, and here of course the reference is most clearly marked. The\nChristian custom of burying the dead, which we practise in imitation of\nthe entombment of Christ, dates from the earliest history of man; and as\nwell from the Old as the New Testament we learn that it has ever been\nfollowed by those who professed to obey the Divine will. The first grave\nof which we have any account was the grave of Sarah, Abraham's wife\n(Gen. xxiii. 19), and the first grave-stone was that over the\nburial-place of Rachel, Jacob's wife (Gen. xlix. 31).\n\n16: There are comparatively but few churchyard grave-stones more\nthan 250 years old, and probably there are very few of an earlier\ndate but have engraved upon them the sign of the Cross. There are\ntwo very ancient grave-stones of this character, having also heads\ncarved upon them, in the churchyard of Silchester. It is likely that\nthe old churchyard crosses were often mortuary memorials. Probably\nthere is hardly an old churchyard but has, at some time, been\nadorned with its churchyard cross; in most cases, some remains of\nthis most appropriate and beautiful ornament still exist, and\ndoubtless is often older than the churchyard as a place of Christian\nburial. In many places this cross has been lately restored to its\nproper place, near to the Lich-Gate. \"Let a handsome churchyard\ncross be erected in every churchyard.\"--Institutions of the Bishop\nof Winchester, A.D. 1229.\n\n17: The interesting custom of placing natural flowers and wreaths upon\ngraves, is in every respect preferable to that which we see practised in\nContinental burial-grounds, where the graves are often covered with\nimmortelles, vases of gaudy artificial flowers, images, &c. We have seen\nas many as fifty wreaths of artificial flowers and tinselled paper, in\nevery stage of decomposition, over one grave in the cemetery of Pere la\nChaise, in Paris. In Wales it is a more general practice than in\nEngland, to adorn the graves with fresh flowers on Easter Day.\n\n18: This story is true of a parish in Monmouthshire.\n\n19: It is comparatively seldom that any other than the funerals of the\n_poor_ take place on Sunday, and the reason commonly assigned is--that\nit is the only day on which their friends can attend. In one, at least,\nof the large metropolitan cemeteries, exclusively used as a burial-place\nfor the _rich_, no funerals _ever_ take place on a Sunday.\n\n20: Let us hope that the time is near when this objectionable and\nunsightly appendage will be banished from our funeral processions. The\nlate Mr. Charles Dickens, in his will, forbad the wearing of hat-bands\nat his funeral.\n\n21: \"In several parts of the north of England, when a funeral takes\nplace, a basin full of sprigs of boxwood is placed at the door of the\nhouse from which the coffin is taken up, and each person who attends the\nfuneral ordinarily takes a sprig of the boxwood and throws it into the\ngrave of the deceased.\"--_Wordsworth_ (_Notes, Excursion_, p. 87).\n\n22: Great care was taken by the medieval architects to make the porches\nof their churches as beautiful as possible. During some periods,\nespecially the Norman, they seem to have bestowed more labour upon them\nthan upon any other portion of the building. Both externally and\ninternally they were richly decorated, and often abounded in emblematic\ntracery.\n\n23: \"The custom formerly was for the couple, who were to enter upon this\nholy state, to be placed at the _church door_, where the priest was used\nto join their hands, and perform the greater part of the matrimonial\noffice. It was here the husband endowed his wife with the dowry before\ncontracted for.\"--_Wheatley._ In a few church porches there are, or have\nbeen, galleries, which seem to have been intended to accommodate a choir\nfor these and other festive occasions.\n\n24: \"The porch of the church was anciently used for the performance of\nseveral religious ceremonies appertaining to Baptism, Matrimony, and the\nsolemn commemoration of Christ's Passion in Holy Week,\" &c.--_Brandon's\nGothic Architecture._ The Office for the Churching of Women also used to\nbe said at the church porch.\n\n25: As our Commination Service declares, persons who stood convicted of\nnotorious sins were formerly put to open penance. The punishment\nfrequently inflicted was--that they should stand at the church door,\nclothed in a white sheet, and holding a candle in each hand, during the\nassembling and departure of the congregation on a Sunday morning. The\nold parish clerk of Walton-on-Thames, Surrey, remembers, when a boy,\nseeing a Jew perform this penance in Walton church.\n\n26: \"Formerly persons used to assemble in the church porch for civil\npurposes.\"--_Brandon._\n\n27: \"At a very early period, persons of rank or of eminent piety were\nallowed to be buried in the porch. Subsequently, interments were\npermitted within the church, but by the Canons of King Edgar it was\nordered that this privilege should be granted to none but good and\nreligious men.\"--_Parker's Glossary._\n\n28: The parvise is to be found over church porches in all parts of\nEngland. It is more common in early English than in Norman architecture,\nand very frequently to be found in churches of the Decorated and\nPerpendicular periods. Probably the largest parvise in England is at\nBishop's-Cleeve, near Cheltenham. There are interesting specimens at\nBridport, Bishop's Auckland, Ampthill, Finedon, Cirencester, Grantham,\nMartley, Fotheringay, Sherborne, St. Mary Redcliffe, Bristol, Stanwick,\nOutwell, and St. Peter's-in-the-East, Oxford. In a few instances there\nare two parvises, one over the north and one over the south porch, as at\nWellingborough. In some cases, as at Martley, Worcestershire, the upper\nmoulding of the original Norman doorway has been concealed by the\nparvise of later architecture.\n\n29: \"The name was formerly given to a favourite apartment, as at\nLeckingfield, Yorkshire. 'A little studying chamber, caullid paradise.'\n(Leland's Itinerary.)\"--_Glossary of Architecture._\n\n30: The room may have been the residence of one or more of the ordinary\npriests of the church, or perhaps only a _study_ for them (see previous\nnote), or it may have been occupied by an anchorite or hermit, or by a\nchantry priest. Rooms for these several purposes are also not\nunfrequently to be found over the vestry, as at Cropredy, near Banbury,\nand at Staindrop, Durham.\n\n31: Fire-places are of frequent occurrence in these chambers; many of\nthem are coeval with the porch, but others appear to have been erected\nat a later date.\n\n32: At Hawkhurst, Kent, the porch-chamber is called _the treasury_. At\nSt. Mary Redcliffe, Bristol, the room over the grand north porch, in\nwhich are the remains of the chests in which Chatterton professed to\nfind the manuscripts attributed to Rowley, was at one time known as the\n_treasury house_.\n\n33: \"The chamber over the porch was generally used for the keeping of\nbooks and records belonging to the church. Such an appendage was added\nto many churches in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries; and some of\nthese old libraries still remain with their books fastened to shelves or\ndesks by small chains.\"--_Brandon's Gothic Architecture._\n\nOver the porch at Finedon (of which we give an engraving) is a parvise\nin which is contained a valuable library of about 1000 volumes, placed\nthere by Sir John English Dolben, Bart., A.D. 1788. At St.\nPeter's-in-the-East, Oxford, and many other places, are similar\nlibraries.\n\n34: These were probably small chantries. It is comparatively seldom that\nany vestige of the altar remains; but the credence and piscina--certain\nproofs of the previous existence of the altar--are very commonly found.\n\n35: \"The custom of teaching children in the porch is of very early\norigin; it is distinctly mentioned by Matthew Paris in the time of Henry\nIII.\"--_Glossary of Architecture._\n\nAfter the reigns of Henry VIII. and Edward VI., in which reigns all\nchantries were suppressed, the children were promoted from the porch to\nthe parvise.\n\n36: \"Above the groining of the porch is a parvise, accessible by a\nturret-stair, having two Norman window-openings, unglazed, and a\nstraight-gabled niche between them on the outside. In former days this\nchamber was constantly inhabited by one of the sextons, who acted as a\nwatchman, but since the restoration of the church it has been\ndisused.\"--_Harston's Handbook of Sherborne Abbey_.\n\nIn the church accounts of St. Peter's-in-the-East, Oxford, A.D. 1488,\nthere is a charge for a \"key to clerk's chamber.\" This no doubt referred\nto the parvise.\n\n37: As, a few years ago, at Headcorn in Kent.\n\n38: There was frequently, but not always, a window or opening from the\nroom into the church; and it would seem that it was so placed to enable\nthe occupant of the room to keep a watchful eye over the interior of the\nchurch, and not for any devotional exercise connected with the altar, as\nwe never find this window directed obliquely to wards the altar, as is\ncommonly the case with windows opening from the vestry, or chamber above\nthe vestry, into the church.\n\n39: Many porches seem originally not to have had doors, but marks exist\nwhich indicate that barriers to keep out cattle were used.\n\n40: It is composed of lamp-black, bees'-wax, and tallow, and is commonly\nused by shoemakers to give a black polish to the heels of boots.\n\n41: These superstitions existed a few years since in connexion with an\nold incised slab in the chancel of Christ Church, Caerleon.\n\n42: \"In the year 1657, the adherents of a Preacher of the name of Cam\nobtained the grant of the chancel of the Holy Trinity Church, Hull, from\nthe council of state under the Protectorate, and whilst the mob without\nwere burning the surplice and the Prayer Book, those within were tearing\nthe brasses from the grave-stones.\"--_History of Kingston-upon-Hull._\n\n s. d.\n\n \"1644, April 8th, paid to Master Dowson, that came with\n the troopers to our church, about the taking down of\n images and brasses off stones 6 0\n\n \"1644, paid, that day, to others, for taking up the\n brasses of grave-stones before the Officer Dowson came 1 0\n\n--_Churchwarden's accounts_; _Walberswich, Suffolk._\n\n\"This William Dowing (Dowson), it appears, kept a journal of his\necclesiastical exploits. With reference to the Church of St. Edward's,\nCambridge, he says,--\n\n\"'1643, Jan. 1, Edward's Parish, we digged up the steps, and broke down\n40 pictures, and took off ten superstitious inscriptions.'\n\n\"Mr. Cole, in his MSS., observes,--\n\n\"'From this last entry we may clearly see to whom we are obliged for the\ndismantling of almost all the grave-stones that had brasses on them,\nboth in town and country; a sacrilegious, sanctified rascal, that was\nafraid, or too proud, to call it _St._ Edward's Church, but not ashamed\nto rob the dead of their honours, and the church of its ornaments.--W.\nC.'\"--_Burn's Parish Registers_.\n\n43: The very interesting brasses in Chartham Church, Kent, were found a\nfew years since as here described, by the present rector, and replaced\nby him on the chancel pavement.\n\n44: \"Manual of Monumental Brasses,\" vol. i. p. 34.\n\n45: \"If any one will lay the portrait of Lord Bristol (in Mr. Gage\nRokewode's _Thingoe Hundred_) by the side of the sepulchral brass of the\nAbbess of Elstow (from whom he is collaterally descended) figured in\nFisher's _Bedfordshire Antiquities_, he cannot but be struck by the\nstrong likeness between the two faces. This is valuable evidence on the\ndisputed point whether portraits were attempted in sepulchral\nbrasses.\"--_Notes and Queries_.\n\n46: See page 77.\n\n47: See page 85. [The engravings of sepulchral brasses and of stained\nglass windows are kindly supplied by the Editor of the _Penny Post_.]\n\n48: See page 67.\n\n49: _Hamlet_, Act i. Sc. 3.\n\n50: Monumental slabs of this description are most common on the pavement\nof churches in the midland counties.\n\n51: This is the case in Ely Cathedral.\n\n52: At Bawsey, Lynn; Droitwich; Great Malvern; and recently near\nSmithfield, London, when excavating for the subterranean railway.\n\n53: Thus translated in the _Gentleman's Magazine_ for October, 1833:--\n\n \"Think, man, thy life | But that thou keepest\n May not ever endure, | Unto thy executor's care,\n That thou dost thyself | If ever it avail thee\n Of that thou art sure; | It is but chance.\"\n\n\n54: \"Anno 1210. Let the Abbot of Beaubec (in Normandy), who has for a\nlong time allowed his monk to construct, for persons who do not belong\nto the order, pavements, which exhibit levity and curiosity, be in\nslight penance for three days, the last of them on bread and water; and\nlet the monk be recalled before the feast of All Saints, and never again\nbe lent, excepting to persons of our order, with whom let him not\npresume to construct pavements which do not extend the dignity of the\norder.\"--Martini's _Thesaurus Anecdotorum_.--Extracted from Oldham's\n\"Irish Pavement Tiles.\"\n\n55: Specially in Normandy, where they are occasionally found under\ntrefoil canopies, resembling our sepulchral brasses.\n\n56: Some excellent coloured engravings for cottage walls, of a large\nsize, have been published by Messrs. Remington, under the direction of\nthe Rev. J. W. Burgon, of Oriel College, Oxford. Others, both large and\nsmall, suitable for this purpose, are published by the Society for\nPromoting Christian Knowledge, and also by several other publishers.\n\n57: These wall paintings exist (or did till recently) on the outside of\na church at High Wycombe. They are curious, and very grotesque; no\ndoubt, however, in their day they have served a good and useful purpose.\n\n58: These mural paintings still remain, as here described, on the north\nwall of the chancel of Chalgrove Church, Oxon. There are also on the\neast and south walls of the chancel of the same church, many other\npaintings possessing great interest.\n\n59: A very interesting mural painting, of which the above is a copy, has\nbeen lately discovered in a recess in the north wall of the nave of\nBedfont Church. The colour is exceedingly rich and well preserved. The\npainting measures 4 ft. 6 in. by 4 ft., and is supposed to be of the\nthirteenth century. It represents the Last Judgment. Our Lord is sitting\non His Throne, showing the five wounds. On the right hand is an angel\nshowing the Cross, on the left an angel with a spear. Four nails are\nrepresented near the head of our Lord. In the lower part of the painting\nare two angels holding trumpets, and below them three persons rising out\nof the tomb.\n\nIt is probable that the interior of almost every old church in the\ncountry has at some time been decorated with wall-paintings--very many\nof them have been brought to light in recent works of church\nrestoration. The favourite subjects were representations of Heaven and\nHell, and of the Day of Judgment. In many cathedrals and some parish\nchurches the _Dance of Death_ was painted on the walls. This was one of\nthe most popular religious plays about four centuries ago.\n\n60: No doubt the earliest church walls were made of wood. Greenstead\nChurch, in Essex, affords a most interesting example of these old wooden\nwalls.\n\n61: Roman bricks are generally easy to be distinguished from others by\ntheir colour and shape. They were not all made in moulds of the same\nsize, as we now make bricks, and on this account we find them to vary\nmuch in size and form.\n\n62: As at Crowmarsh, Oxfordshire, of which an engraving is given.\n\n63: At Godmersham, Kent.\n\n64: It is certain that many of the splendid yew-trees in our old\nchurchyards are far older than the churches themselves. And it is more\nthan probable that in many instances they mark the places where heathen\nrites were once celebrated. It was natural for our Christian forefathers\nto select these spots as places of worship, since, being held sacred by\nthe heathen people around them, they would be regarded by them with\nreverence and respect, and thus the cross which they reared, and the\ndead which they buried beneath the wide-spreading branches of these old\ntrees would be preserved from desecration.\n\n65: These styles are now frequently called _first_, _second_, and _third\npointed_.\n\n66: \"The glass windows in a church are Holy Scriptures, which expel the\nwind and the rain, that is, all things hurtful, but transmit the light\nof the True Sun, that is, God, into the hearts of the faithful. These\nare wider within than without, because the mystical sense is the more\nample, and precedeth the literal meaning. Also, by the windows the\nsenses of the body are signified: which ought to be shut to the vanities\nof this world, and open to receive with all freedom spiritual gifts. By\nthe lattice-work of the windows, we understand the Prophets or other\nobscure teachers of the Church Militant: in which windows there are\noften two shafts, signifying the two precepts of charity, or because the\nApostles were sent out to preach two and two.\"--_Durandus on Symbolism_.\n\n67: Stained glass is said to have been first used in churches in the\ntwelfth century. Windows were at first filled with thin slices of talc\nor alabaster, or sometimes vellum. As the monks spent much time in\nilluminating their vellum MSS., it has been thought likely that they\nalso painted on the vellum used in the windows of their monasteries, and\nthat afterwards, on the introduction of glass, their vellum\nilluminations suggested their glass painting.\n\n68: At Brabourne, Kent, is a Norman window filled with stained glass of\nthe period, which is still quite perfect.\n\n69: \"One who calls himself John Dowsing, and, by virtue of a pretended\ncommission, goes about ye country like a Bedlam, breaking glasse\nwindows, having battered and beaten downe all our painted glasse, not\nonly in our Chappels, but (contrary to order) in our Publique Schools,\nColledge Halls, Libraries, and Chambers.\"--Berwick's _Querela\nCantabrigiensis_.\n\n70: The rubric in the Service for the Public Baptism of Infants directs\nthe priest, _if the godfathers and godmothers shall certify that the\nchild may well endure it_, to _dip it in the water_. In the first Prayer\nBook of Edward VI. the priest is directed to \"_dyppe it in the water\nthryce_.\"\n\n71: Acts xvi. 15, 33. 1 Cor. i. 16.\n\n72: As at Dorchester and Warborough in Oxfordshire, and Brookland in\nKent; each of these have very elaborate mouldings upon them.\n\n73: At Llanvair Discoed, Monmouthshire.\n\n74: The Font at West Rounton, of which we have given an engraving, is\none of many examples of this. The _Centaur_, the arrow from whose bow is\njust about to pierce the monster, probably represents the Deity\nconquering Satan, or perhaps the continual conflict of the baptized\nChristian against sin and Satan. The other figure may represent the\nDivine and human natures united in our Lord. This exceedingly curious\nFont was discovered during the recent restoration of the little Norman\nChurch of West Rounton, Yorkshire. It was found under the pulpit, of\nwhich it formed the base, having been turned over so that the bowl\nrested on the floor, and so carefully plastered that there was no\nexternal indication of its original form. It has now been restored to\nits former position near the south-west door of the church.\n\n75: Ezek. iii. 7, 8; ix. 4. Rev. vii. 3; ix. 4; xiii. 16; xiv. 1, 9;\nxxii. 4.\n\n76: {~GREEK SMALL LETTER BETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER PI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA WITH DASIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ZETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMEGA~} [baptizo], to baptize, {~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA WITH DASIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA WITH DASIA~} [ana], again.\n\n77: \"God planted a garden eastward;\" man went westward when he left it;\nhe turns eastward to remind him of his return. Almost every church in\nEngland is built _east and west_, with the altar at the east.\n\n78: Phil. ii. 10.\n\n79: Canon XVIII. 1603.\n\n80: \"Many monuments are covered with seates, or pewes, made high and\neasie for parishioners to sit or sleepe in, a fashion of no long\ncontinuance, and worthy of reformation.\"--Weaver's _Funeral Monuments_.\nTemp. James I.\n\n81: It is likely that the idea of a gallery at the west end of the nave,\nwas first suggested by the gallery of the Rood Screen at the eastern\nend.\n\n82: At H.... church, Kent, for instance.\n\n83: Chertsey, Surrey.\n\n84: One of the churches in Edinburgh, for instance.\n\n85: 2 Chron. vi. 13.\n\n86: Nehem. viii. 4.\n\n87: As at Magdalene College, Oxford. \"Formerly, when the annual sermon\nwas preached on the feast of the nativity of St. John the Baptist, from\nthe stone pulpit before the chapel of Magdalene College, Oxford, the\nwhole area before it was covered with rushes and grass, to represent, it\nis said, the wilderness: and doubtless also for the accommodation of the\nhearers; the seats being set for the University authorities.\"--_History\nof Pues._\n\n88: Such an one formerly existed near the cathedral of Exeter.\n\n89: Parker's \"Glossary of Architecture,\" part i. p. 171. At the west end\nof Boxley Church, Kent, is a Galilee. There are very few--if any--other\nchurches in which the ancient _Galilee_ is to be found.\n\n90: Many of the wooden pulpits have dates upon them. The earliest of\nthese is A.D. 1590, on a pulpit at Ruthin, Denbighshire.\n\n91: \"The Churchwardens, at the common charge of the Parishioners in\nevery parish, shall provide a comely and honest pulpit, to be set in a\nconvenient place within the Churche, and to be there seemly kept, for\nthe preaching of God's worde.\"--_Injunctions given by the Queen's\nMajestie_, 1559.\n\n92: It seems most probable that the last of these was the real object.\nIn some old discourses the following phrase is met with:--\"Let us now\ntake another _glass_,\" meaning another period of time to be measured by\nthe hour-glass: and the preacher reversed the glass at this point.\nAncient hour-glasses remain in the church of St. Alban's, Wood Street,\nCity; and at Cowden, Kent. The iron frames of hour-glasses still remain\nin the churches of Stoke Dabernoun, Surrey; Odell, Bedfordshire; St.\nJohn's, Bristol; Cliff, Kent; and Erdingthorpe, Norfolk, and doubtless\nothers are to be found elsewhere. The Queen has lately presented an\nhour-glass of the measure of eighteen minutes for the pulpit of the\nchapel royal in the Savoy, to replace the old one, which was destroyed\nin the recent fire.\n\n93: Some few of these sounding-boards are, however, very handsome. At\nNewcastle there is, or lately was, a sounding-board which was a\nrepresentation of the spire of the church.\n\n94: _Gentleman's Magazine_, vol. 1. p. 364. Preaching-Crosses are also\nat Hereford, near the Friary of the Dominican (or Preaching) Friars; and\nin the churchyards of Iron Acton, Gloucestershire, and Rampisham,\nDorsetshire.\n\n95: See a curious letter on this subject in the _Gentleman's Magazine_,\nvol. 1. p. 527.\n\n96: See Walker's \"Sufferings of the Clergy,\" p. 310.\n\n97: S. Luke vi. 26.\n\n98: The Vicar of the church here referred to has lately deceased, and\nhis successor has commenced the much needed improvements. The Vicar's\ngood daughter, who was quite a _sister of mercy_ in the parish, is not\nlikely to be forgotten, though the old pew has gone. A beautiful window\nof stained glass has been erected to her memory by the parishioners.\n\n99: This phase of the pew system is not over coloured. A few years\nsince, a pew in the nave of Old Swinford Church was so nailed up; but\nother instances of this might be mentioned.\n\n100: James ii. 1-4.\n\n101: James ii. 5, 6.\n\n102: Sermon by the Rev. E. Stuart, preached at the Church of St. Mary\nMagdalene, Munster Square, London.\n\n103: 2 Cor. viii. 9.\n\n104: Much information on this subject can be obtained from \"The History\nof Pues: a Paper read before the Cambridge Camden Society, November 22,\n1841.\"\n\n105: Stone seats were often placed round the bases of the columns of the\nnave; examples are at St. Margaret-at-Cliffe, and Challock, in Kent.\n\n106: _British Critic_; see _History of Pues_.\n\n107: \"'1612, 27 May.--Ye Ch. Wardens meeting together for seekeing\n for workmen to mak a fitt seete in a convennent\n place for brydgrumes, bryds, and\n sike wyves to sit in ijs.\n\n--_Extract from Parochial Books of Chester-le-Street, Durham_.\n\n\"It is plain that at this period the privilege of a separate pew was\nconfined to persons of the first rank; the rest sat promiscuously on\nforms in the body of the church, and the privilege is here extended only\nto sick wives and brides, who sat to hear the preacher deliver 'The\nBride's Bush,' or 'The Wedding Garment beautified.'\"--Surtees' _Hist. of\nDurham_.\n\n108: Blomfield's _Norfolk_, vi. 317.\n\n109: \"Several congregations find themselves already very much\nstraitened; and if the mode increases, I wish it may not drive many\nordinary women into meetings and conventicles. Should our sex at the\nsame time take it into their heads to wear trunk breeches, a man and his\nwife would fill a whole pew.\"--_Satire on Female Costume. Spectator_,\nNo. 127.\n\n \"At church in silks and satins new,\n And hoop of monstrous size;\n She never slumber'd in her pew\n But when she shut her eyes.\"--_Goldsmith._\n\n\n110: \"He found him mounted in his pew,\n With books and money placed for shew.\"\n\n _The Lawyer's Pew_, Butler's _Hudibras_.\n\n \"A bedstead of the antique mode,\n Compact of timber many a load,\n Such as our ancestors did use,\n Was metamorphosed into pews;\n Which still their ancient nature keep\n By lodging folks disposed to sleep.\"\n\n Swift's _Baucis and Philemon_.\n\n\n111: _European Magazine_, 1813.\n\n112: _History of Pues_, p. 77.\n\n113: \"1617. Barnham _contra_ Hayward Puellam.--Presentatur--for that she\nbeing but a young maid sat in ye pew with her mother, to ye great\noffence of many reverent women: howbeit that after I Peter Lewis the\nVicar had in the church privately admonished her to sit at her mother's\npew-door, she obeyed; but now she sits with her mother again.\"--_God's\nAcre_, by Mrs. Stone.\n\n114: Whittaker's _Whalley_, p. 228.\n\n115: \"We have also heard that the parishioners of divers places do\noftentimes wrangle about their seats in church, two or more claiming the\nsame seat, whence arises great scandal to the Church, and the divine\nofficers are sore set and hindered; wherefore we decree that none shall\nhenceforth call any seat in the church his own, save noblemen and\npatrons: but he who shall first enter shall take his place where he\nwill.\"--Quivil, Bishop of Exeter, A.D. 1287.\n\n116: In the vestry of the church of East Moulsey is suspended a map of\nconsiderable size, showing the land that has been left to the parish for\nthe sustentation of the church. The land ought to produce 120_l._ but\nsome years since the parishioners engaged in a law-suit respecting a pew\nin the church, and lost the suit, and the income from the charity land\nwas year by year absorbed in the payment of the debt then incurred. One\nevidence brought forward to prove the faculty was the following\ninscription, which is still (or was till lately) _over the altar_,\npainted at the foot of a _daub_, having the Ten Commandments surrounded\nby drapery, &c.:--\n\n\"In lieu of the Commandments formerly written on the wall (when by\n consent of the parish he made his pew) these tables were placed here\n by--Mr. Benson, MDCCXII.\"\n\n117: _Gentleman's Magazine_, A.D. 1780, p. 364.\n\n118: We are so used to speak of the _seats_ in church, that we commonly\nforget the more proper appellation of _kneeling_. This, however, was not\nalways so. An old metal plate formerly on a pew in a church in the\ndiocese of Oxford, has this inscription:--\n\n\"No 83. Vicar and Churchwardens, two kneelings. Trustees of Poor House\nthree kneelings.\"\n\n119: See _History of Pues_, p. 37.\n\n120: \"Item. Paid to good wyfe Wells for salt to destroy the fleas _d._\nin the _Churchwardens' Pew_ vi.\n\n _St. Margaret's Accounts._ _Dublin Review_, xiii.\n\n\n121: So called, as some suppose, because it could be _folded_ and\nremoved when necessary.\n\n122: Joel ii. 17.\n\n123: Injunctions of Edward VI. and Queen Elizabeth.\n\n124: See _Wheatly on the Common Prayer_, p. 161.\n\n125: \"The earliest examples remaining are of wood, many of them\nbeautifully carved, as at Bury and Ramsay, Huntingdonshire;\nSwancombe, Debtling, and Lenham, Kent; Newport, Essex; Hawstead,\nSuffolk.\"--Parker's _Glossary_.\n\nThere are beautiful examples of brass lecterns at Magdalene and Merton\nColleges, Oxford, in most of our cathedrals, and many parish churches.\n\n126: Derived from the French _aile_, a wing. It is no uncommon thing to\nhear persons who ought to know better talk about _side_ aisles, as if\nthere were any other than side aisles.\n\n127: Derived from the Greek, {~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA WITH DASIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER GAMMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER FINAL SIGMA~} [hagios], holy, and {~GREEK SMALL LETTER SIGMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER KAPPA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER PI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON WITH DASIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMEGA~}\n[skopeo], to view. There are very good specimens at St. Clement's,\nSandwich, and at St. Mary's, Gloucester. The latter has three\ncompartments.\n\n128: In some few churches--as at Rottingdean, Sussex--the chancel, by\nthe deviation of its north or south wall from the line of the nave,\nrepresent the inclined head of our Lord upon the cross.\n\n129: The German word for piscina is Wasserhaelter, _water-holder_.\n\n130: Derived from the Italian _credenzare_, to test by tasting\nbeforehand; which refers to an ancient custom for the governor of a\nfeast to taste the wines before presenting them to his guests. The\napplication of the word to this piece of Church furniture is supposed to\nhave its origin in an attempt once made to mix poison with the\neucharistic elements.\n\n131: The rubric at the commencement of the Prayer Book concerning \"the\nOrnaments of the Church, and of the ministers thereof,\" still directs a\ncredence-table to be placed in every church.\n\n132: In Flamborough Church, Yorkshire, a few years since, a white glove\nwas hanging over the centre arch of the very beautiful chancel\nscreen,--perhaps is hanging there still. Sometimes a bridal wreath was\nhung up with the glove.\n\n133: When the rood screens were pulled down by the Puritans and the\nchancels were alienated from their proper use, it became necessary, in\norder to protect the immediate precinct of the altar from general\nintrusion, to erect around it some barrier; hence the origin of\naltar-rails, which were first ordered to be put up by Archbishop Laud.\nThere are a few instances of ancient screens of considerable height\nimmediately surrounding the altar.\n\n134: As in Bottisham Church, Cambridge; Westwell, Kent; and most of our\ncathedrals.\n\n135: Such galleries existed in the parish churches of Whitby, Yorkshire,\nand of Sandon, Staffordshire, a few years ago, but these have probably\nbeen since removed.\n\n136: Rood is analogous to our common word _rod_. It is a Saxon word, and\nmeans a cross.\n\n137: It is a question whether the order in the canons for placing the\nCommandments in churches was intended to be other than temporary. At the\ntime few comparatively had Bibles or Prayer Books, so there was then a\nreason for the order, which no longer exists. One of many churches in\nwhich the Commandments were painted at an early date over the chancel\narch, is Fordwich, Kent; the date is 1688. At Dimchurch, in Kent, there\nis an old painting of the Commandments over the chancel arch, and a\nmodern one over the altar.\n\n138: As at C.... Church, Kent.\n\n139: \"_Cancellae_ are lattice-work, by which the chancels being formerly\nparted from the body of the church they took their names from thence.\nHence, too, the Court of _Chancery_ and the Lord _Chancellor_ borrowed\ntheir names, that court being enclosed with open-work of that kind. And\nso to _cancel_ a writing is to cross it out with the pen, which\nnaturally makes something like the figure of a lattice.\"--Pegge's\n_Anonymiana_.\n\n140: Some of our chancels, however, were originally made considerably\n_lower_ than the nave. When the church has been built on a slope it has\nsometimes followed the fall of the ground from west to east.\n\n141: So called from the Latin word _sedes_, a seat. This position, on\nthe south side of the altar, is in all respects the most convenient for\nthe clergy when not officiating. To sit _facing_ the people is a most\npainful position for the priest, as the eyes of all the congregation\nnaturally rest upon him; it has, too, the _appearance_ of irreverence.\n\n142: See p. 223.\n\n143: See p. 223.\n\n144: This word is tautological, derived from our common word _rere_,\nback, and the French _dos_, back, from its position at the back of the\naltar. Many of these altar-screens have in recent years been restored at\nimmense cost, as at Ely Cathedral.\n\n145: In Braburn Church, Kent, an altar-tomb, with armorial bearings\naround and above it, occupies the very place of the altar itself. In the\nchurch of Prendergast, South Wales, large marble slabs with elaborate\nepitaphs occupy the _entire_ east end of the chancel. The most prominent\nof these--immediately over the altar--records that the departed \"had\nlearned by heart the whole Book of Psalms, and all the Collects of the\nBook of Common Prayer, with twenty-four chapters of the Old and New\nTestaments, before she was thirteen years old, and several more after\"\nHowever praiseworthy and marvellous these accomplishments, this is\nsurely no fitting place for proclaiming them!\n\n146: It is probable that the prayers and the sermon were formerly read\nfrom the same lectern. The first authoritative document of which we have\nrecord in which mention is made of the _prayer desk_, is the Visitation\nArticles of the Bishop of Norwich (Parker), in A.D. 1569.\n\nIn the parish accounts of St. Mary's, Shrewsbury, is an item in 1577 for\n\"colouring the Curate's desk.\" But prayer desks were used at a much\nearlier time.\n\n147: So called from the Latin word _almarium_, a closet or locker. The\nalmery had many uses, and is to be found in all parts of the church, but\nchiefly in the chancel. Sometimes it was used to hold the priest's\nvestments; and in conventual churches, to hold the gold and silver\nvessels belonging to the monastery.\n\n148: Gen. viii. 20; xii 7; xxxv. 1.\n\n149: Exod. xxvii. 1.\n\n150: The Council of Epaone in France (A.D. 509) ordered that none but\n_altars of stone_ should be _consecrated with chrism_. The custom of\nconsecrating the altar with chrism is supposed to symbolize the\nanointing of our Lord's Body for the burial.--See _The Stone Altar_, by\nRev. J. Blackburn, p. 46.\n\n151: Rev. vi. 9-11.\n\n152: \"A type both of the womb and of the tomb.\"--_The Stone Altar_, p.\n41.\n\n153: 1 Cor. x. 4.\n\n154: See \"Prayer for the Church Militant.\"\n\n155: Queen Elizabeth's _Advertisements_, A.D. 1564, require \"that the\nParish provide a decent TABLE, _standing on a frame_, for the Communion\nTable.\" Hence it appears that by the word _table_ at the era of the\nEnglish Reformation, the _slab_ only was meant.--Parker's _Glossary_.\n\n156: Matt xxvii. 66.\n\n157: \"The seal of the altar--that is, the little stone by which the\nsepulchre or cavity in which the relics be deposited, is closed or\nsealed.\"--_Durandus_, p. 128.\n\n158: As at St. Mary's Hospital, Ripon. These ancient stone altars may\nalways be known by the _five crosses_ on the table, emblematic of the\nfive wounds of Jesus. Not infrequently, alas! this slab is to be found\nas part of the church flooring. The altar table of Norwich Cathedral is\n(or was lately) to be seen in the floor of the nave.\n\n159: \"Have you a Communion Table with a handsome carpet or covering of\nsilk stuff, or such like?\"--_Visitation Articles_, Bishop Bridges, 1634.\n\n\"Have you a carpet of silk, satin, damask, or some more than ordinary\nstuff to cover the Table with at all times?\"--_Visitation Articles_,\nBishop Montague, 1639.\n\n160: The pall is an archiepiscopal vestment, forming at the back a\nfigure like the letter Y, as seen on the armorial bearings of our\narchbishops.\n\n161: \"All Deans, Archdeacons, Parsons, Vicars, and other Ecclesiastical\npersons shall suffer from henceforth no torches nor candles, tapers, or\nimages of wax to be set before any image or picture. But only two lights\nupon the high altar (the only altar now retained in our Church) before\nthe Sacrament, which, for the signification that Christ is the true\nLight of the World, they shall suffer to remain still.\"--_Injunctions of\nKing Edward VI._\n\n\"And here it is to be noted, that such ornaments of the Church and of\nthe ministers thereof, at all times of their ministration, shall be\nretained and be in use, as were in this Church of England by the\nauthority of Parliament in the second year of the reign of _King Edward\nthe Sixth_.\"--_Rubric before morning Prayer._\n\n162: Durandus, who wrote about A.D. 1290, says, \"At the horns of the\naltar _two_ candlesticks are placed to signify the joy of Jews and\nGentiles at the Nativity of Christ.\"\n\nIn the Sassetti Chapel at Florence is a beautiful fresco painting, by\nGhirlandaio (A.D. 1485), representing the death of St. Francis. The\npainting, which has been copied by the Arundel Society, has all the\ncharacter of a really historical work, and is particularly interesting\nas representing an altar with the _two_ candlesticks upon it.\n\n163: Ps. cviii, 1.\n\n164: 2 Chron. v. 11-14.\n\n165: Organs appear to have been used at a very early period, and some\nhave thought that allusions to them are to be found in the Psalms of\nDavid; but till the commencement of the last century they were probably\nused in very few country churches. In cathedrals the organ was sometimes\nplaced in the clerestory; its position over the choir screen is in every\nrespect most objectionable.\n\n166: _Vestry_, so called because it is the place where the vestments of\nthe priests and their assistants are kept. It is also called the\n_sacristy_, because the _sacred_ vessels and other furniture for use at\nthe altar are kept there. The keeper of the vestry is properly called\nthe _sacristan_. This word has now degenerated to _sexton_.\n\n167: Some of the subterranean and other small chambers in churches,\nsupposed to be chantries or mortuary chapels, have probably been used as\nvestries. The following is extracted from Neal and Webb's edition of\n_Durandus_:--\"On eache side of this chancelle peradventure (for so\nfitteth it beste) should stand a turret; as it were for two ears, and in\nthese the belles to be hanged, to calle the people to service, by daie\nand by night. Undre one of these turrets is there commonly a vaulte,\nwhose doore openeth into the quiere, and in this are laid up the\nhallowed vesselles, and ornamentes, and other utensils of the churche.\nWe call it a vestrie.\"--_Fardle of Facions_. Printed 1555.\n\n168: Early examples of these chests for containing the parish records\nmay be found in most old churches. Frequently they are of very rude\ndesign, and the box is formed of a single block of wood strongly bound\nwith iron hoops. Sometimes, however, they are richly carved, as in the\nchurches of Clymping, Sussex; Luton, Bedfordshire; and Faversham, Kent.\nThe proper place for the parish chest is the vestry, but it is not\nunfrequently to be found in some other part of the church. We often meet\nwith several large chests of common deal in various parts of the church\ncontaining useless papers and other rubbish. The sooner these are swept\naway the better.\n\n169: See pages 85 and 86 for a description of some of these vestments.\n\n170: It is _always lawful_, and almost always desirable, to hold\n\"vestry\" meetings in some hall or room in the parish, and _not in the\nchurch vestry_.\n\n171: Eph. ii. 20.\n\n172: Pugin's _True Principles of Architecture_.\n\n173: _Durandus._\n\n174: 1 Pet. ii. 5.\n\n175: Col. iii. 14.\n\n176: John x. 9.\n\n177: Jer. xxii. 18.\n\n178: Most persons know--at least from engravings--the famous \"Apprentice\nColumn\" in Roslin Chapel. That was perhaps the first church pillar that\never was wreathed with flowers, and those stone flowers are as fresh and\nbeautiful now as when they were carved five hundred years ago.\n\n179: This old custom of copying in stone or marble the surrounding\nobjects of nature has been imitated on the capitals of pillars in the\nchurch of St. Mary, Devon, which has recently been so beautifully\nrestored in memory of the late Bishop of Exeter.\n\n180: Acts xiv. 13. Virgil, _AEneid_, i. 417; ii. 249.\n\n181: 1 Cor. xv. 42.\n\n182: Isa. lx. 13.\n\n183: Mark xiv. 4.\n\n184: This word, formerly spelt _clear story_, plainly expresses its own\nmeaning--a clear or separate story or flight of windows. They are placed\nbetween the roof and the nave arches of a church.\n\n185: The word corbel, French _corbeille_, means literally a large flat\nbasket. It is curious to note how the word obtains its present use in\narchitecture. After the destruction of the city of Caryae in Arcadia by\nthe Greeks, Praxiteles, and other Athenian artists, employed female\nfigures, instead of columns, in architecture, to commemorate the\ndisgrace of the Caryatides, or women of Caryae (see Dr. Smith's Dict. of\nGreek and Roman Antiquities, _Caryatis_). These figures were always\nrepresented with corbels or baskets on their heads. The basket, being\nthus placed between the head of the figure and the roof, was that which\n_immediately_ supported the roof. Hence those projecting pieces of stone\nor wood which support the roofs of our churches, as well as other\nbuildings, have received the name of corbels. _Caryatides_ may be seen\non the north and south sides of New St. Pancras Church, London--a church\nwhich externally possesses all the appearances of a heathen temple, and\nfew of a Christian church.\n\n186: Although the carved roofs of this period cannot compare in point of\nelegance and beauty with those of an earlier date, yet, for the\nabundance of rich and elaborate detail in wood-carving (oak and walnut),\nno period equalled this. The bench-ends, screens, rood-screens, tombs of\nwood at this time were exquisitely beautiful. The roofs, however, were\ntoo flat, and externally they were concealed altogether by parapets.\n\n187: In some chancels the idea of the keel of a ship is fully carried\nout, the walls widening as they ascend.\n\n188: The flat roofs well suited the heathen worship of ancient Greece\nand Rome, where the object of worship was shut up within the walls of\nthe temple itself. It is far different with us, who worship a Deity who,\nthough specially present there, is \"not _confined_ to temples made with\nhands.\"\n\n189: Wordsworth.\n\n190: See the _Builder_, Jan. 29, 1865, \"The Roof and the Spire.\"\n\n191: So called from the _triple form_ of the arches it most commonly\nhas.\n\n192: See Parker's _Glossary_, \"Triforium;\" and Hook's _Church\nDictionary_.\n\n193: It is probable that all Norman towers originally had low-pointed\nroofs covered with tiles (as at Sompting, Essex); tower roofs of this\nperiod with gable-ends are also sometimes to be found.\n\n194: Chiefly in Norfolk and Suffolk. Of these the round towers of Little\nSaxham and Brixham are perhaps the most interesting.\n\n195: There are several instances, however, in England of bell-towers\nstanding detached from the church, as the beautiful tower at Evesham,\nWorcestershire, and the curious belfry at Brookland in Kent.\n\n196: Evidences of these priests' chambers exist throughout England:\nthere are instances at Challock, Sheldwich, and Brook in Kent. In the\nlast mentioned are the remains of an altar, with a portion of the\noriginal rude painting above it still remaining.\n\n197: Bells are said to have been introduced into the Christian Church by\nPaulinus; Bishop of Nola, at the end of the fourth century. The first\npeal of bells in England was put up in Croyland Abbey, about A.D. 870.\n\n198: \"When they heard the bell of the chapel of Isabella sounding through\nthe forests as it rung for mass, and beheld the Spaniards hastening\nto wards the chapel, they imagined that it _talked_.\"--Irving's\n_Life of Columbus_, ch. iv.\n\nThe office of the church bell in summoning the people to prayer and holy\nworship was regarded in olden times with such respect that the bell was\nvery solemnly set apart by a special religious service for this sacred\nuse.\n\nIn the churchwarden's accounts of St. Lawrence, Reading, is the\nfollowing curious entry:--\n\n\"1449. It payed for halowing of the bell named Harry, vj_s_. viij_d_.,\nand over that, Sir William Symys, Richard Cleck, and Maistres Smyth,\nbeing Godfaders and Godmoder at the consecraycyon of the same bell, and\nberyng all oth' costs to the suffrygan.\"\n\n199: Kirke White.\n\n200: In the last century it was a favourite custom with village\nbellringers to set forth their rules in verse. They were generally\npainted on a board and fixed in the belfry. In all cases the rhyme\nappears to be the production of native talent. The rules are themselves\nunexceptionable. The following are examples:--\n\nIn the belfry, Charlwood,--\n\n \"Ye men of action, strength, and skill,\n Observe these rules which I do will:\n First,--Let none presume to swear,\n Nor e'er profane the house of Prayer.\n Next,--He that doth a bell o'erthrow\n A groat shall forfeit where'er he go;\n And if he do refuse to pay,\n Be scorn'd, and simply go his way,\n Like one who will for ever wrangle\n As touching of a rope to jangle.\"\n\nIn the belfry, Bredgar,--\n\n \"My friendly ringers, I do declare\n You must pay one penny each oath you do swear.\n To turn a bell over\n It is the same fare;\n To ring with your hats on you must not dare.\n \"MDCCLI.\"\n\nIn the belfry, All Saints', Hastings,--\n\n \"This is a belfry that is free\n For all those that civil be;\n And if you please to chime or ring,\n It is a very pleasant thing.\n There is no music play'd or sung\n Like unto bells when they're well rung;\n Then ring your bells well if you can;\n Silence is best for every man.\n But if you ring in spur or hat\n Sixpence you pay, be sure of that;\n And if a bell you overthrow\n Pray pay a groat before you go.\n \"1756.\"\n\n\n201: In the preface to the Prayer Book the curate is directed to \"cause\na bell to be tolled\" for morning and evening prayer; but Durandus says\nthat this ringing of the bell was itself once part of the minister's own\nduty.\n\n202: At Cairnwent, in Wales, the parish clerk \"used often to knock a bit\nor two from one of the bells when any one wanted a bit of metal.\" In a\nneighbouring church two bells were taken down and sold to pay for the\n_ceiling of the roof_. Many church bells in England have, alas! met with\nas sad a fate. The same parsimony which has sacrificed the bells has, in\nmany cases, not spared the belfry. It seems hardly credible--but it is\ntrue--that some years ago, at St. Bride's, Monmouthshire, there being no\nladder in the village long enough to reach the top of the tower, _the\ntower was lowered to meet the length of the ladder_.\n\n203: The following are a few examples taken from village church bells in\nWales. At Nevern,--\n\n \"I to the church the living call,\n And to the grav do summon al.--1763.\"\n\nAt Llandyssil,--\n\n \"Come at my call,\n Serve God, all.--1777.\"\n \"Fear God, honour the king.--1777.\"\n\nAt Llangattock,--\n\n \"Be peaceful and good neighbours.\"\n\n\n204: Such as:--on six bells at Northfield Church,--\n\n 1st. \"We now are six, tho' once but five,\"\n 2nd. \"But against our casting some did strive;\"\n 3rd. \"But when a day for meeting they did fix,\"\n 4th. \"There appear'd but nine against twenty-six:\"\n 5th. \"Thomas Kettle and William Jervis did contrive\"\n 6th. \"To make us six that were but five.\"\n\nAt Tamworth,--\n\n \"Be it known to all that doth me see,\n That Newcombe, of Leicester, made mee.--1607.\"\n\nAt Nevern,--\n\n 'Thomas Rudall\n Cast us all.--1763.'\n\n205: Durandus, \"Of Bells.\"\n\n206: Ps. xcii. 13.\n\n207: 2 Cor. v. 1.\n\n208: Heb. ix. 23.\n\n209: Eph. ii. 20-22.\n\n210: Isa. xxviii. 16. 1 Pet. ii. 6.\n\n211: Ps. cxviii. 22. Matt. xxi. 42.\n\n212: Eph. ii. 21.\n\n213: 1 Pet. ii. 5.\n\n214: 2 Cor. vi. 16.\n\n215: S. James ii. 17.\n\n216: Col. iii. 14.\n\n217: Ezek. xiii. 10.\n\n218: Ps. cxxvii. 1.\n\n219: Rom. ii. 7.\n\n220: Rev. iv. 8; v. 13.\n\n221: In the parish registry of Dymock, in Gloucestershire, is the\nfollowing entry:--\"Buried: John Murrel, aged 89 years. Thomas Bannister,\naged 13 years.\" To which is appended the following note: \"John Murrel\nand Thomas Bannister died nearly at the same moment, though the latter\nwas in apparent good health. He had always attended upon Murrel, who was\nmuch given to prayer, and being by his bed at the time, Murrel, in his\nlast struggle, extended his hand to him, when both instantly expired.\"","title":"Stones of the Temple; Or, Lessons from the Fabric and Furniture of the Church","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":64179}