Chapter IV: Part 4

"No, I have not; when I was an infant, my parents objected to my being baptized, and since I became a man, I must confess with shame, that I have never had the _courage_ to go through the service at our _meeting_. That service, you know, sir, is such as to deter far more courageous men--and specially women--than I am, and I have always, too, had my doubts about its propriety."

"I am not surprised at that. I once, when a boy, attended a baptism at one of your _meetings_, and I shall never forget it; for a more unseemly spectacle I never witnessed. There were several young men and women immersed by the preacher, in a large tank of water, in the middle of the meeting-house. Each was clothed in a flannel garment fitting almost closely to the body, and the appearance of the first of them was the signal for a general rush to the best places for seeing; men and boys climbed noisily over the pews, and some took their places on the backs of the seats, so as to get a good view; and the whole scene was most disorderly and irreverent.

"I have explained to you that our own Church also admits of baptism by _immersion_[70], but it does not _require_ it, nor even recommend it. Nevertheless occasionally persons desire it; and there are a few churches, chiefly in Wales, where a large tank of water, as well as a smaller font, is provided for such special cases. But this mode of baptizing is not encouraged by the Church, for these among other reasons:--It is _not necessary_--for 1, the word _Baptism_, in the original, does not necessarily mean entire immersion; 2, in the absence of proof to the contrary, we may fairly conclude, from the peculiar circumstances[71] of the cases, that many of whose baptism we read in the New Testament were not so immersed; 3, the Church from the earliest period has not considered immersion as necessary to the validity of Baptism. It is also _inconvenient_--for 1, in some cases it would be most difficult to obtain sufficient water for the purpose; 2, in many cases there would be much risk and danger attending its practice; 3, in all cases there would be difficulty in securing that solemnity, propriety, and order so desirable in the administration of this holy sacrament. But the Baptism of adults, even according to the Church's ordinary rules, is no small test of courage, as well as sincerity. You are aware, no doubt, that your own Baptism and reception into the Church must be _in the face of the congregation_. The law of the Church is very plain on this point; it distinctly forbids Baptism to be administered _privately_, either at home or in the Church, 'unless upon a great and reasonable cause;' and it is much to be regretted that this rule has ever been departed from."

"Yes, sir, I have well considered that point."

The Vicar remained long that afternoon in the vestry in serious conversation and earnest prayer with his parishioner. He again went over the subject of the last three sermons; showing, 1st, how the text could refer to nothing else than holy Baptism, and that, if it did refer to it, then no doubt, where it can be had, Baptism must be necessary for us, in order that we may "enter into the kingdom of God;" 2ndly, that the _promise_ is as sure as the _warning_; and, 3rdly, that the terms of the text are _unexceptional_, that they refer to _all mankind_ without any exception whatever, men, women, and children. In speaking of these different subjects, of course he had to meet the various objections which Dissenters are used to adduce; but on all these points it was not very difficult to satisfy the mind of one who had already freed himself from the trammels of prejudice, and was earnestly seeking for the _truth_.

On the following Sunday afternoon therefore, after the second lesson, Mr. Dole presented himself, with his chosen witnesses, at the Font of St. Catherine's. The service was a very solemn one, and all the congregation evidently took the greatest interest in it. Mr. Dole made the responses in a firm manly voice, its very tone seemed to say, "This is the result of my deep and honest conviction; I have been wrong, and I am not ashamed to say so before all those who are here present, from whom I have so long been separated, but who are henceforth my brethren in Christ." And then for the first time, he quietly and calmly took his place on a bench at the west end of the building--a sincere member of the Christian Church.

It was natural that the Squire and Vicar should have some conversation after service on an event of so much importance in the village as was this. They both foretold, and rightly, the downfall of the little village "Bethel" as soon as its chief supporter had left it.

Its former attendants came back to the Church one by one, till at length the owner of the building, finding no prospect of receiving his rent, closed the "Meeting," and appropriated it to another purpose.

The Vicar and Squire were standing near the Font, and the conversation took its rise from the object before them.

"How often, Mr. Vicar, we find these old Norman Fonts preserved, when there is hardly another bit of masonry remaining in the church of the same date."

"Yes; and it is remarkable it should be so, considering the exposed part of the church in which they are placed, and the perishable stone of which they are not unfrequently composed; besides which, the carvings upon them are often of so mysterious and grotesque a character as naturally to excite the wrath of the Puritan fanatics who so relentlessly destroyed the beauty of our Houses of God, and 'brake down all the carved work thereof with axes and hammers.'

"It is very interesting to watch the progress of architectural changes as delineated on Fonts. Each period of ecclesiastical architecture, as well in its general features as in its details, is abundantly illustrated by the carvings and mouldings to be found on Fonts. The early Fonts were with few exceptions made of stone. Marble was seldom used till in comparatively recent times. Some of the early Fonts had a solid leaden bowl, placed on a stone base[72]; I have never seen but one ancient wooden Font[73]; that was placed on a stone base of the Norman period, but was itself no doubt much later. The sculpture on very ancient Fonts, as well as other church carving of the time, sometimes borrowed its symbolism from the heathen mythology which preceded it[74]."

Constance Acres, who had been hitherto a quiet listener, here asked Mr. Ambrose why the Font was always placed near the door of the church.

"It's a natural inquiry, my dear, for one of your age," said the Vicar, "but the reason is evident. Its position there, at the entrance of the material fabric, fitly represents _Baptism_ as the outward form of admission into the Christian Church. The Font, too, thus placed, should ever remind us, as we enter the church, of the vows and promises made in our name when first we were brought in our helpless infancy to be presented to God, and to be made members of Christ through the grace of our second birth. If people would only accustom themselves to associate such thoughts with the baptismal Font, then just a glance at it as they come into the church would be enough to solemnize their minds, and help to fit them for the sacred services in which they are about to take a part. It was once the custom, Constance, to place what were called _stoups_, at the entrances to our churches, and there are still remains of them at the doors of many old churches. These were small basins, made of stone, for the purpose of holding water, which--like the water in the Font--was consecrated by the priest. When persons came into the church, they dipped a finger in the basin, and crossed their forehead with the water, just as the priest now crosses the brow of the person who has been baptized. The _forehead_, you know, is always regarded as the seat of _shame_ or _courage_[75]; and so the person, when baptized, is signed with 'the sign of the _Cross_, in token that hereafter he shall _not be ashamed_ to confess the faith of _Christ crucified_.' The old custom of frequent crossing with holy water has now for a long time been discontinued by us, the practice was regarded by many as superstitious, nor does there appear to be authority for it in the Primitive Church. The same motive which prompted the use of the _stoup_, however, still induces some persons to use the sign of the Cross on entering a church: I do not myself do so; not that I see any harm in the practice in itself, as it is intended to remind persons of the Sacred Presence to which they are about to enter, and to drive away worldly thoughts by this memento of the crucifixion of their Lord; but I think it is better, in my own case, as some would be offended by it, to try to accomplish this right object by other means."

"People's minds have very much changed in late years respecting the use of the Cross," said Mr. Acres. "A few years ago not only was the sign of the Cross in baptism considered superstitious, but it was considered even wrong to use it in church architecture, or as an ornament within the church, or as a part of a memorial in the churchyard; there are few now, I suppose, who regard such use of the sacred symbol as superstitious. I was in a bookseller's shop the other day when a 'Baptist' preacher came in to purchase a Prayer Book to present to a friend; the bookseller said to him, 'Of course that will not suit you, sir, as it has a Cross upon it.' 'I like the book very much,' was his reply; 'and as for the Cross, why the Puritans may object to that if they like, I don't.' But I am of opinion that people are going a little in the opposite extreme, and, at least as a personal _ornament_, the Cross is become too common."

"Why _do_ you fall into the popular error, my good friend," said the Vicar, reprovingly, "of calling these Anabaptist preachers, _Baptists_? Surely they ought to be called any thing rather than _Baptists_, for they make more light of Baptism than any other people who can properly be said to believe in Baptism at all. Do let us call things by their proper names;--why, to call them _Baptists_, is almost as bad as to call Roman Catholics, _Catholics_, and so to ignore our own claim to be members of the Christian Church, because we allow them a name which would imply that _they_ are the _only_ Church in the world. I need not tell you that the word ANA_baptist_[76] exactly expresses what they are, namely, they who _baptize a second time_ those who have already been baptized in infancy. The term 'Baptist' is far more applicable to Church people than to them."

"I see, I deserve your rebuke: mine is a mistake too often made. By-the-bye, Mr. Vicar, I was very pleased to hear your reply to Mr. Dole, when he inquired what was the _fee_ to be paid for his baptism. I heard you tell him that the sacraments of the Church were always _free_."

"Yes, certainly I did; and I confess I cannot understand how any one can dare, in these days, to demand a fee for Baptism; the claim is as _illegal_ as it is _unchristian_, and I believe goes far to make the poor take a low view of this holy rite. I wish, too, I could make the poor understand that _Baptism_ has nothing to do with _Registration_; many of the most ignorant of them really regard them as the same thing. Some of them, too, will persist in thinking that to be _privately baptized_, is to be '_half baptized_.' Of course _they must be altogether baptized, or not baptized at all_; but they do not readily see that the _baptism_ is complete, though the _reception into the Church_ is not perfected till the service is concluded in the face of the congregation."

_CHAPTER XVI_

THE PULPIT

"He commanded us to preach unto the people."

_Acts_ x. 42

"The pulpit, therefore (and I name it, fill'd
With solemn awe, that bids me well beware
With what intent I touch that Holy thing),
I say the pulpit (in sober awe
Of its legitimate peculiar powers)
Must stand acknowledged, while the world shall stand,
The most important and effectual guard,
Support and ornament of virtue's cause.
There stands the messenger of truth: there stands
The legate of the skies! His theme divine,
His office sacred, his credentials clear.
By him the violated law speaks out
Its thunders; and by him, in strains as sweet
As angels are, the Gospel whispers peace."

COWPER.

Illustration: Stone Pulpit in Dartmouth Church

THE PULPIT

"I suppose we must not expect you to conform to all our usages at first, Mr. Dole," said Mr. Acres, as they walked out of the churchyard one Sunday, after the Afternoon Service; "but no doubt you will soon see the fitness of our several forms and ceremonies, and then you will do as we do. Of course these things are--compared with others--of no great importance; but still it is better, even in small matters, to avoid differences in our mode of worship."

"Yes, that is so, sir; but you must give me time, and I shall be glad if you will tell me what you have specially noticed in my manner different from others? I don't wish to seem particular."

"Well, to be candid then, Mr. Dole, it seems strange to us to see a man when he comes into church _stand up_ and say his prayers in his _hat_, instead of reverently _kneeling down_."

"I never thought of that before, but I dare say it does; but then you know, sir, that is our way at the _meeting_. I see, however, that it is much more proper in God's house to obey the precept of His Holy Word, and 'fall low on our knees before His footstool.'"

"Then for the same reason you will, I am sure, see that, instead of _sitting_ during the other prayers, as I notice you do, it is proper to _kneel_ at those times too. You will find that all in our church, from the oldest to the youngest, except poor Old Reynolds and Tom Barham (who are too infirm to kneel), do so. Then again, when the _Creed_ is said, I see you do sometimes stand up, but not always; and I notice you don't turn to the _East_, as all the rest of the congregation do."

"No, I confess I don't do that. I like the idea of repeating our Confession of Faith whenever we meet at church: I suppose the want of this practice is one reason why the different leading sects of Dissenters are constantly being broken up into fresh divisions. Yes, there is certainly something very supporting to a Christian in so declaring with the Church every where, his belief in the great doctrines of their common Faith; but the fact is, I have some scruples about turning to the East at that time. Even old Mrs. Tubbs, who, you know, is a Church-woman, says she thinks it is superstitious."

"All I can say, then, is, that Mrs. Tubbs doesn't know the meaning of the word she uses; and in this she is like a great many more people who think themselves very wise about these matters. Now, my good friend, when you next come to church, stand up with the rest, and turn to the East as the others do, and first say to yourself some such words as these:--'We all _stand_, to signify that we are _not ashamed_ of our Belief, and that, if need be, we will manfully defend it. We all _turn in one direction_, to signify that we all hold _one and the same faith_. We all turn to the _East_, because there in the east of our churches every thing reminds us of the presence of Him in whom we profess our belief; because there, in remembrance of Him, we celebrate the highest and most sacred mysteries of our Faith; and because the East specially reminds us of the holy life, the Divine teaching, the miracles, the suffering, the death of our Blessed Lord--"the _Sun_ of Righteousness," "the _Day-spring_ from on high"--_in the East_[77].' Do this, Mr. Dole, and you will never again be disposed to regard this custom as superstitious. Why, some people even think it is superstitious to bend the head reverently at the name of Jesus, when it is mentioned in the Creeds and the other parts of the Service."

"I don't think so, though once I did. Since I have considered more about it, it has seemed to me that some outward show of reverence at the mention of the Sacred Name is quite Scriptural[78]. But as I am yet only a learner about these outward forms, will you kindly tell me, sir, whether there is any rule of the Church about this custom?"

"The Vicar will be able to answer that better than I can."

"I could not help overhearing our friend's question," said Mr. Ambrose, "as I was close behind you, and I will answer it at once. The rule of our Church is very plain on this point; it is this: 'All manner of persons present shall reverently kneel upon their knees, when the general Confession, Litany, and other prayers are read; and shall stand up at the saying of the Belief, according to the rules in that behalf prescribed in the Book of Common Prayer; and likewise, when in time of Divine Service the Lord Jesus shall be mentioned, due and lowly reverence shall be done by all persons present, as it hath been accustomed: testifying, by these outward ceremonies and gestures, their inward humility, Christian resolution, and due acknowledgment that the Lord Jesus Christ, the true eternal Son of God, is the only Saviour of the world[79].'"

"Thank you, Mr. Ambrose, nothing could be plainer, or more reasonable than that direction; but, you see, I have for so many years _sat under_ Mr. Scole, who never taught us any thing of this sort, that you will forgive me if I seem a little more ignorant than those who have been all the time _sitting under_ you."

"What do you mean by 'sitting under,' my friend?" said the Vicar, very innocently.

"I mean _hearing you preach_," was Mr. Dole's reply. "It's a curious expression, now I come to think about it."

"It certainly is so, and the meaning of it is not very clear. But in our Church we don't talk about _sitting under_, or _hearing_ this or that preacher. We simply say we attend this or that church, as the case may be. And the reason is, that--although very important in its proper place--we consider preaching of little moment (and the preacher of far less), when compared with the other objects of Christian worship,--_Prayer_ and _Praise_. We look upon God's House as pre-eminently 'a House of Prayer.'"

"Well, I do think we used to make too much of the sermon at the meeting; and I remember all our conversation afterwards was about the sermon or the preacher. One Sunday we had a young gent. from London, Mr. Sweetly, to preach, and our people never ceased to talk about him. I believe, however, none of them recollected a word he said; but they could remember well enough 'his lovely voice,' and 'how nice he looked in his beautiful black silk gown' (you know, sir, our people always preach in black gowns), 'and those charming lavender gloves! and then the sweetest embroidered white lawn pocket-handkerchief imaginable!' It had just been presented to him, he told me, by a young lady--Miss Angelina Gushing--who sat under him at his London meeting-house. I never was a preacher-worshipper myself, sir."

"Save me from the man with the _lavender gloves and the white embroidered pocket-handkerchief_, I say," said Mr. Acres. "If there is one thing in nature I shrink from more than another, it is a _fop_, and a _fop_ in the pulpit is beyond endurance."

"A most offensive person, indeed," said the Vicar, "and one that brings great discredit upon the ministry; but it can be no matter of surprise that men sometimes a little over-estimate themselves in some of our fashionable towns, where the people (specially the ladies) flock to _hear_ 'dear' Mr. Somebody, and so abundantly supply him with those articles of personal furniture which are usually the reward of a popular preacher. It is not so very long ago that in our own church every thing was made to give way to the sermon. You remember, Mr. Acres, when many of the people in St. Catherine's used to sit and sleep through the prayers[80], and just wake up for the sermon. Then the pulpit was every thing, and little else could be seen by the people; the galleries were built so that the people might sit and see the preacher, and the pews were likewise built up only with a view to sitting comfortable during the sermon. It is all different now, I am thankful to say, and the pulpit takes once more its old and appropriate position. But we must take care not to esteem too lightly the office of the preacher, in our contempt for one who preaches merely to _please the people_. To 'preach the Word' is one of the solemn duties laid upon us at our ordination; and woe be to us if we neglect to do so earnestly and faithfully!"

_CHAPTER XVII_

THE PULPIT

"Because the preacher was wise, he still taught the people knowledge; yea, he gave good heed, and sought out, and set in order many proverbs."

Eccles. xii. 9.

"Unskilful he to fawn, or seek for power,
By doctrines fashion'd to the varying hour;
Far other aims his heart had learn'd to prize,
More bent to raise the wretched than to rise.

* * * * *

At church, with meek and unaffected grace,
His looks adorn'd the venerable place;
Truth from his lips prevail'd with double sway,
And fools, who came to scoff, remain'd to pray."

GOLDSMITH'S _Country Parson_.

"Resort to sermons, but to prayers most:
Praying's the end of preaching."

GEORGE HERBERT.

Illustration: Church of St. Mary, Henley-on-Thames

THE PULPIT

Illustration: Stone Pulpit in North Kilworth Church

"It's curious to note," continued the Vicar, "how the Pulpit and the Gallery have kept company in rising higher and higher. At first the pulpit was placed at a moderate height above the congregation, and then the church improvers (?) were usually contented with erecting a small low gallery at the west end of the church[81]. It is true, that was bad enough; for in order to construct it, it was nearly always thought necessary to fill in the tower arch and to hide the western window--often the most beautiful features in the church; and then the organ was taken up into this gallery, and the singers followed it; and nothing, you know, could be more inconvenient than that those who help to _lead_ the services of the Church should be _behind_ those they profess to lead. But when people had once tasted the luxury of sitting in a church gallery, the demand for it rapidly increased, and my Lady Pride, who had very comfortable crimson-cushioned seats in her box at the theatre, could not be content without an equally comfortable and elegant _box_ in the gallery at her church, where she could see all the people quite as well as in her box at the theatre, and had such a good view of the pulpit and its occupant, that, with a good opera-glass, she could even read the manuscript from which the clergyman was preaching. As the taste spread, of course galleries multiplied, and not only extended in a lateral direction over all available parts of the church, but sometimes mounted up one above another (as witness many of our London churches) till they almost touched the very roof. Indeed, to build a new gallery was one of the most popular things a local magnate could do; and even Members of Parliament, who desired to make sure of their next election, could hardly adopt better means for recommending themselves to their constituents than by disfiguring their church with one of these hideous structures, and recording the same on some conspicuous part of the church[82]. But worse still; these galleries were sometimes even still more nearly connected with the political parties of the day. I know one church[83]--and that is not the only instance--in which are galleries, having complete opera-boxes, furnished with luxurious chairs, stoves, &c., and every box is a two-pound freehold, and the boxes are, from time to time, advertised for sale, with the inviting recommendation that each one _gives a vote for the county_. One great piece of presumptuous vanity connected with these galleries, is the numberless instances in which the names of churchwardens, that otherwise would have been unknown to fame, have been emblazoned upon them."

"You remember, no doubt," said Mr. Acres, "the inscription, in large gilt letters, that covered the front of our old gallery--'This gallery was erected A.D. 1716, Thomas Grubb and Matthew Stokes, Churchwardens; enlarged, and newly painted and ornamented, A.D. 1760, Peter Jenks and Samuel Styles, Churchwardens.' I believe I have read that inscription thousands of times, and those names used even to haunt me in my dreams. Had those churchwardens been four of the greatest saints in the calendar, it would have been gross impiety to emblazon their names so conspicuously as thus to force them upon one's notice during the whole service. If, however, tradition does not speak falsely of them, those men were by no means too correct either in their private life or in their parish accounts. But let them be never so good, people who go to church for Christian worship, don't wish to have the names and exploits of these worthy or unworthy men staring them in the face every moment they are there. But I beg your pardon, Mr. Vicar, I interrupted you when you were speaking of the pulpit."

"Well, you know, when the gallery had reached the ceiling, it could go no higher; but then its upper tenants could no longer see the preacher. So the pulpit rose too, and, to enable all to see it, sometimes took its place just in front of the altar, so as completely to hide that from most of the congregation; nay, I have seen it even over the altar itself[84]. Then the prayer-desk came climbing up after the pulpit; and then the clerk's desk came creeping up below them, till that, too, became one of the most conspicuous and important objects of the church. Thus the three together grew into that clumsy, unsightly mass which has been not inaptly called the _Three Decker_!"

"Ah, I shall never forget poor old Mowforth's perplexity," said Mr. Acres, "when he looked about for his peculiar box in our restored church. First he looked doubtingly at your prayer-desk; then he examined the lectern from which you read the lessons; then he looked with some faint hope at the pulpit; at last he came to me, and said, 'Please, sir, which of these is to be my place?' and his look of dismay was indescribable when I told him that, as you intended that henceforth the choir should lead the responses, he would be absorbed in the congregation, and would in future be able to take his place with the rest of his family. But the man is a sensible fellow, and he confessed to me the other day that he considers the new arrangement a great improvement, and wonders that the people could have so long endured the duet service in which only the voices of the parson and himself could be heard. But we have again wandered a little from our subject. Let us go back to the pulpit; it must have a history of its own, like every other part of the church. Will you kindly enlighten me and our friend here on the subject? for it must be one of much interest to us both."

"Well--to begin at the beginning--I suppose we must look for the origin of our pulpits in the 'brazen scaffold' which Solomon set 'in the midst of the Temple[85],' and the 'pulpit of wood[86]' from which Ezra read the Book of the Law.

"There are in this country many very beautiful examples of ancient pulpits; these are, with but very few exceptions, constructed of _stone_, and very generally of the same date as the church itself. Sometimes they were erected outside the church[87], but usually in the place where we are still accustomed to see them. Sometimes stone pulpits were quite separate buildings, erected in some much frequented place, usually near a cathedral or other church[88]. 'In the ancient rites of Durham there is mention of a "fine _iron_ pulpit, with iron rails to support the monks in going up, of whom one did preach every holiday and Sunday at one o'clock in the afternoon." This was situated in the Galilee, or western division of the church, which was open to the public even when the entrance to the rest of the church was interdicted[89].' Although the most beautiful pulpits, both ancient and modern, are of stone--many of them being richly carved and inlaid with costly marbles--yet the greater number of the more modern pulpits are made of wood[90]. By an injunction of Queen Elizabeth in 1559, pulpits were ordered to be erected in all churches[91], and by a canon of 1663 it was ordered that pulpits should be placed in all the churches of the country not already provided with them. The pulpits then erected were in almost every case made of wood, and their pattern has since then been generally, though by no means universally, followed.

"A curious appendage to the pulpit sometimes found is the horologium, or hour-glass. Whether this was placed there for the information of the congregation as to the progress of the hour, or to teach them its own solemn moral, or as a guide to the preacher respecting the length of his discourse[92], I cannot say. Another adjunct to the pulpit is the sounding-board, or, as it should rather be called, the _lid_ or _cover_ of the pulpit; and a thing more useless, and usually more ugly, one cannot conceive[93]. It certainly always seems to me rather to impede the sound of my voice than to assist it; and then it has, to say the least, a most uncomfortable appearance; and though I never heard of the accident really happening, yet it always appears to me to be on the point of falling and crushing the poor preacher below it. It is not, however, difficult to trace the origin of these covers to the pulpit; they were really necessary where the pulpits were _separate buildings_--as at St. Paul's Cross--in order to protect the preacher when the weather was inclement. At St. Paul's Cross, and at the Cross Pulpit at Norwich, and probably elsewhere, not only the preacher, but also the audience, were provided with such a shelter[94]."

"Will you kindly tell us," said Mr. Dole, "why you discarded the large handsome velvet cushion that was once on your pulpit, and have, instead, adopted the embroidered piece of velvet which now hangs in front of the pulpit?"

"Well, as a matter of taste, I think you will agree with me that the present beautiful frontal, with its richly-embroidered cross, is an improvement upon the old cushion. But I discarded the old big _pillow_--for such, indeed, it was--not only because it was unsightly, but also because it was useless, for my head is not so much more tender than that of other persons, that I, any more than they, should require a pillow to rest it on during my private devotions; and as I am not accustomed to perform the part of a mountebank in the pulpit, or, as some say, to use much _action_ when preaching, I need no such protection in order to preserve my limbs safe and sound. But, besides this, there is a manifest objection to these huge cushions; undoubtedly they tend to impede the sound of the preacher's voice[95]; so I was very glad to get rid of your handsome cushion, and adopt our more convenient and more beautiful pulpit frontal."

"I often think," said Mr. Acres, "if the old pulpits could speak, what a strange account they would give of the various preachers that have occupied them. Take our own old stone pulpit, for instance. In early times, of course, there were only sermons at long intervals, perhaps often dependent upon the occasional visits of some old preaching friar. At length there came the quaint old Homilies of the Church; then there came an interruption to all true religion and order, and the old pulpit poured forth the mad ravings of the fanatical Puritans who got possession of it. Now and then came a noisy soldier to hold forth, and there was--as our old registers show--the _Reverend_ Ebenezer Bradshaw, the Presbyterian, who left his snuff and tobacco shop to enlighten our poor benighted people; next came the _Reverend_ Obadiah Brent, late of the 'Green Dragon,' the Independent preacher; and then the _Reverend_ Jabez Zanchy, the baker of Starchcombe, the Anabaptist preacher[96]; then there was a century of long learned essays freely interspersed with Greek and Latin, so that, if the prayers were said in a language 'understanded of the people,' the sermon certainly was not. Following upon this came what we may call the _muscular_ style of preaching--usually extempore--requiring the pillows of which you have been speaking to save the knuckles of the preacher from entire demolition. Thank God, amid these many changes, there have always been some good men to be found in our pulpits; but, for my part, I like the quiet, sober, persuasive style, which--saving your presence, Mr. Vicar--I am thankful to say, characterizes the sermons at St. Catherine's. I think sermons cannot be too _practical_; and, whilst they should be addressed both to the heart and the intellect, they should most of all be designed to touch the _heart_."

_CHAPTER XVIII_

THE NAVE

"My brethren, have not the faith of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Lord of Glory, with respect of persons."

S. James ii. 1.

"At length a generation more refined
Improved the simple plan....
And o'er the seat, with plenteous wadding stuff'd,
Induced a splendid cover, green and blue,
Yellow and red, of tapestry richly wrought,
And woven close, or needlework sublime."

COWPER.

Illustration: St. Mary's Church, Sherborne

THE NAVE

"Ah, Mr. Beeland, I'm so glad to see you!" said the Vicar, as, on leaving the church, he met his neighbour the newly-appointed Vicar of Droneworth. "I have been much grieved to hear of the sad opposition you have had to encounter in restoring your fine old church; but this was sure to be the case in a parish like yours, which has been so long neglected; indeed it must be so, more or less, in every parish, so long as there are people who honour themselves much more than they honour God; and such, I suppose, there will be till the end of the world. You may be sure, my friend, the woe of universal commendation[97] never yet fell upon any _church restorer_."

"Never, certainly. But what makes our position often so difficult and so painful is the fact that, whilst we are fully sensible of the rectitude of our own course, we cannot help, to some extent, sympathizing in the feelings of those who blame us. For instance, in almost every case of church restoration it is necessary to disturb a large number of human bones, and yet we can but sympathize in that feeling of respect for the departed, which sometimes expresses itself in the most strenuous opposition to any work involving this painful necessity. Then, you see, there is the rooting up of long-cherished associations. We have a case in point close at hand. There's the grand old church of Rainsborough will be left in its miserable condition so long as the present Vicar lives, and for no other reason than this:--ten years since he lost a favourite daughter, and she had always been accustomed to sit in one particular corner of their large pew." Now the Vicar fears (and no doubt justly) that should the church be altered, the old pew with its fond associations would be swept away--and so the church will never be improved as long as he lives[98]. We must respect the old man's tender love for the spot sacred to the memory of his dear child, yet we plainly see it is all wrong that for the sake of the private feelings (however praiseworthy) of any one person, God's house should remain in a state of neglect, and the poor should be uncared for therein. This, however, is an oft-told tale. But most of all, we have to contend against _wounded pride_ in its most cherished strong-hold--alas!--the Church of God; and the enemy is all the more fierce because it is prostrate.

"My two great opponents, Sir John Adamley and Mr. Parvener, are to meet me this evening, and I am come to ask you and Mr. Acres to walk back with me to Droneworth, so that I may have the benefit of your support. You see these two gentlemen had pews in the nave of our church, lined, cushioned, and carpeted in dazzling crimson; each pew was as large as a good-sized room, and the two occupied nearly half the nave. Mr. Parvener was generally at church once on a Sunday, and then he sat not only in luxurious ease, but also in solitary dignity. Sir John never came to church, as there was some old feud respecting the right owner of his pew; but the door was always locked, and a canvas cover was stretched over the top. These precautions, however, failed to keep out an occasional intruder, and at last the door was securely _nailed up_[99]. The worst of it was, that all this time there was not a seat in the church which a poor man could occupy with any chance of either seeing or hearing the ministering Priest. Now people talk about _proper_ distinctions in church between the high and the low, and we sometimes hear much about old ancestral pews. Believe me, it's all nonsense, my dear sir; the distinction is _solely between riches and poverty_. If a man has plenty of money, he may (or rather, till lately he might) secure the biggest pew in England; and if he has not money, though he be entitled to quarter the royal arms on his escutcheon, he will get no pew at all. Mr. Parvener is an exact instance of this. But a few years since he was working for half-a-crown a day. No sooner did he become wealthy than he obtained a large pew at our church, whilst its former owner, whose fall had been as complete and rapid as was the rise of his successor, was driven to a remote corner of the church allotted to degraded poverty."

The walk to Droneworth was soon accomplished, but the Rector with his two friends only reached the Parsonage a few moments before the arrival of the two aggrieved parishioners. It was evident from the first greeting that they had come in no friendly spirit. But few words passed before Sir John came direct to the object of the interview.

"The purpose of our visit," said Sir John, "you are aware, is to protest against the removal of our pews at church, and to declare our determination to have them replaced if it is possible."

"But, gentlemen, you are aware that we have provided good accommodation for you in the restored church," replied the Vicar.

"Good accommodation, sir!" exclaimed Sir John. "Why, you have given us nothing but low wooden benches to sit upon; and, to add to the insult, sir, there is not the semblance of a _door_; so that our devotions may at any time be interrupted by the presence of an inferior. Why, sir, the very labourers, who earn their half-crown a day, have seats in the church just as good as ours!"

The last sentence made poor Mr. Parvener writhe a little; and that indeed was its real intention, for the two neighbours had, in truth, little love for each other. The words, however, accomplished another and a better purpose; they broke up at once any thing like united action on the part of the opposition.

"Let me ask you, gentlemen, a very simple question," said the Vicar. "_Why should not_ the labourer have as good a place in God's house as yourselves?"

"You might as well ask," said the Baronet, "why they should not have as good houses as we have."

"The cases are in no way similar. You live in better houses than the poor, simply because your worldly means enable you to do so; but I have yet to be taught that in the Church wealth is to be exalted and poverty degraded. No, Sir John, be sure this distinction is out of place _there_. We go to church to _worship_ and to _learn_, and if favour is shown to any class, no doubt it should be to the ignorant and the poor; but this is a matter on which we are not left to our own judgment. There are not many instructions in our Bibles as to the manner of arranging our churches, but here the direction is plain and unmistakable."

"Indeed, sir! I had no idea that any thing about church seats was to be found in the Bible."

"Oh, but indeed there is. The passage to which I refer is in St. James' Epistle; and it is this: '_My brethren, have not the faith of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Lord of Glory, with respect of persons. For if there come unto your assembly a man with a gold ring, in goodly apparel, and there come in also a poor man in vile raiment; and ye have respect to him that weareth the gay clothing, and say unto him, Sit thou here in a good place; and say to the poor, Stand thou there, or sit here under my footstool: are ye not then partial in yourselves, and are become judges of evil thoughts[100]?_'"

"If those words are in the Bible, I must confess the Bible is against me; but I had no idea that they were there."

"I assure you they are the exact words of Holy Scripture."

"It's clear enough to me," interposed Mr. Parvener, "that the labourer ought to have as good a place at church as the lord. I don't think the church is the place to show off aristocratic pride. Why, for that matter, there's many a man that doesn't know who was his grandfather doing more for the glory of God and the good of his fellow-creatures than your grandest aristocrats." This was intended as a counter-thrust, and it created a wider breach in the enemy's camp. "But," continued he, "I don't see why, if all have good places in the church, we should not make our own seats as comfortable as we can."

"Ah, but there comes in just what St. James tells us we ought to keep out: the distinction between _riches and poverty_, distinctions which among our fellow-men have their advantages, but not before God in His house. Just hear what St. James says again: 'Hearken, my beloved brethren, Hath not God chosen the poor of this world rich in faith, and heirs of the kingdom which He hath promised to them that love Him? But ye have despised the poor[101].' I was much struck with a sermon I heard the other day on this subject. The preacher said, 'If our Lord Jesus Christ were to enter some of our churches just as He went to the temple at Jerusalem, do you think He would take His seat in the luxuriously furnished pew of the rich, or in the open bench of the poor[102]?' Now, let me ask you too, Mr. Parvener (for this is, after all, the sum and substance of the matter), do you think that He 'who was rich, yet for our sakes became poor[103],' and whose life was a perfect pattern of _humility_, would sanction the distinctions which either pride of station, or pride of riches, would create in the House of Prayer?"

"Well, sir, I must say that's a solemn question, and it sets one a-thinking more than I have thought before about this."

"But, Mr. Beeland," said Sir John, interrupting, for he saw the ground of his arguments was slipping from under him, "you will acknowledge that these open benches in church are a _novelty_, and you often talk to us about keeping to the _old paths_. Now, here you are teaching us to strike out a new way altogether. I wish I knew something more than I do about the history of these pews."

"I anticipated some such remark from you, and knowing that my friend Mr. Ambrose is more learned than I am in all these subjects, I induced him to join us this evening, and if he will kindly give us the benefit of his information, he will, I am sure, convince you that _pews, and not benches, are the modern innovation_."

"If you can have patience to listen to me," said the Vicar of St. Catherine's, "I will gladly give you the history of pews, as far I know it."

_CHAPTER XIX_

THE NAVE

"Take theses things hence; make not My Father's house a house of merchandise."

John ii. 16.

"Not raised in nice proportions was the pile,
But large and massy; for duration built;
With pillars crowded, and the roof upheld
By naked rafters intricately cross'd,
Like leafless underboughs, 'mid some thick grove,
All wither'd by the depth of shade above,
... The floor
Of nave and aisle, in unpretending guise,
Was occupied by oaken benches ranged
In seemly rows."

WORDSWORTH.

Illustration: All Saints' Church, Bradford

THE NAVE

"In order to trace the history of pews[104] to their first source, I must, as Mr. Beeland has hinted, go back to a time when pews, as we now see them, had never been thought of. It is pretty certain that the first seats in churches were stone benches placed round the north, south, and west walls, portions of which are still remaining in many old churches[105]. In some ancient churches in Ireland the stone bench has also been found adjoining the _eastern_ wall, the altar being placed a little distance before it. In those early times people were far less self-indulgent than at present in God's House, and the usual custom was to stand or kneel during the whole service. The first wooden seats were small stools, each intended to seat one person, and placed in the nave as suited the convenience of each occupier. Then came plain benches, and next, benches with backs to them. The priest's _reading-pew_ was probably the origin of all pews. They seem to have been unknown in any form till the end of the thirteenth century, but the earliest record we have of a pew is 1602[106]. Next to the 'reading-pew' came the 'bride's pew[107],' the 'churching-pew,' and the 'churchwarden's pew.' In the nave of Little Berningham Church, Norfolk, is a pew erected by a shepherd; a skeleton carved in wood is fixed at the south-west corner of it, and these lines are carved on the pew:--

'For couples join'd in wedlock; and my friend
That stranger is: this seat I did intend,
But at the coste and charge of Stephen Crosbee.
All you that do this place pass by,
As you are now, even so was I--
Remember death, for you must dye,
And as I am, soe shall you be.

'Anno Domini, 1640[108].'

The general adoption of pews began with Puritanism, and with its increase they too grew in width and stature. First of all, people were satisfied with the uniform arrangement and space of the old oak benches, only erecting on the top of them an ugly and useless panelling of deal. This was bad enough, but worse soon followed; and, to make the seats more luxurious, first one bench was taken away, and the _two benches_ made _one pew_; then two were removed, then three, till at last it required the removal of _six benches_, which formerly would accommodate thirty persons, to make _one pew_ to accommodate two or three. Now, either men are giants in these days and were pigmies in those days, or else the pride and luxury of man claim a prominence now in God's House, which was quite unknown then. I will ask either of you, gentlemen, to decide which is the true explanation."

"I fear it must be against ourselves," said Mr. Parvener.

"I fear so, indeed[109]. But now let me explain to you more fully what are the real evils of this wretched pew system. And first, as to the _private pew_--for, besides sharing in the evils of _all_ the rest, _it_ has some peculiarly its own. Of these, the _pride_ it fosters, and the '_respect of persons_,' so severely condemned by St. James, are the worst. My dear sir, I assure you it has often made my blood boil to see some poor old man with his venerable bare head exposed to the cold draught of a neglected part of the church, whilst a young, pampered son of fortune has been cushioned up under the stately canopy of his own pew[110]. Oh, sir, I'm sure you must agree with me that this is altogether against the spirit of Christianity! I'm no leveller _out of church_; the social distinctions must be there kept up; but _in God's House_ these should have no place at all. Then, surely, the _luxury_ of many of these private pews is altogether inconsistent with the object of our meeting in the House of Prayer. It is--as it shows the progress of luxury, and its concomitant, effeminacy--a curious circumstance, that when the custom of having pews in our churches began to spread, they were, by our hardy ancestors, considered as _too great indulgences_, and as temptations to repose. Their curtains and bed-furniture, their _cushions_ and _sleep_, have, by a long association of ideas, become intimately connected. The Puritans thought _pews_ the devil's _baby_, or _booby hutches_[111]. I have heard that in America they go even beyond us in the luxury of pews, and that in Boston some of them are actually lined with _velvet_[112]. I believe that both there and here the private pew system has done very much, not only to force the poor from the Church, but to drive many of all classes over to dissent."

"I can't see how that can be," said the Baronet.

Why, "naturally enough, sir, for they find all this the very opposite to what the Church professes to be and to teach. They see the rich exalted, and the poor debased; they find a house of pride, instead of a house of prayer.

"The _exclusiveness_ of this system is one of the most curious as well as absurd features in its history. True, the change in our social habits has created a change for the better here; but much of the old temper survives. You would hardly believe, perhaps, that years ago it was not only considered an impropriety for the squire and the dame to sit in the same pew with any of their inferior fellow-worshippers, but the presence of their own children[113] was even considered an indecent intrusion. This was, indeed, ridiculous; but, in truth, the whole system would be monstrously grotesque, were it not so very wicked.

"There is a curious inscription on an old seat in a church at Whalley, which seems to throw some light on the early history of private pews; it is this:--'My man Shuttleworth, of Hacking, made this form, and here will I sit when I come, and my Cousin Nowell may make one behind me if he please, and my sonne Sherburne shall make one on the other side, and Mr. Catterall another behind him; and for the residue, the use shall be first come first speed, and that will make the proud wives of Whalley rise betimes to come to church[114].'

"The first seat thus appropriated was, no doubt, a rude wooden bench; but certain it is, that no sooner were even these claimed as private property than _quarrelling_ began[115]; and the quarrel has, alas! been kept up to our own day. The right to these _faculty pews_, as they are called, is, however, in most cases very questionable, and often leads to costly law processes[116]. Many sensible men and earnest Churchmen are giving up their supposed right to them, and are contented to take their place in church like _ordinary mortals_. I sincerely trust, gentlemen, this may be your case.