CHAPTER IX

SOME OBJECTIONS CONSIDERED

Several objections to the symbolical system have been noticed and

answered in the course of this treatise. We shall, however, devote a

greater space to the consideration of one difficulty which has often

been raised by opponents, and has often been felt even by such as have

adopted the theory. It is said, for example, that to assert the nave

and two aisles, or a triplet of lancets, to be symbolical of the Most

Holy Trinity, is both false and profane, when, as is almost always the

case, the aisles are much less broad than the nave, and the three

lancets are unequal both in height and breadth: whereas in the Trinity

none is afore or after other, none is greater or less than another.

But the difficulty seems only to arise from carrying the similitude

too far: the point of resemblance is in these cases a single one: the

mere trinity of the arrangement is the only particular which gives

rise to the symbol. 'Three mystic lines approach the shrine,' sings

the poet of the Christian year for Trinity Sunday. The number alone is

answerable for the emblem. We do not deny that an equilateral triangle

is a more perfect symbol of the Blessed Trinity: but even here a

captious man might object to the emblem, because the angles gain

greater or less prominence according to the position in which the

triangle is placed. {cxiv} The Catholic monogram of the Trinity, for

example, assigns to the Father and the Son the upper angles of a

triangle standing on the third point. On the other hand the modern

triangle, generally charged with the Hebrew word Jehovah, has the

third angle uppermost. We can quite conceive these differences being

thought objectionable. The case is not so strong indeed as when the

three members are unequal, but still it is the same in kind and in

reality.

It is a condition of emblems that the points of similitude must not be

pressed too far. The material Sun indeed typifies the Sun of

Righteousness: but in what particulars? in its being _created_, in its

rising on the dark world _every_ day, in its being matter? Surely not:

but in this one point, that it brings light and heat to the earth. _I

am the Door_, said our Lord. In what particulars, we may again ask? It

would be profane to show by examples that it is only in this point:

that a door is for entrance into a material house just as we enter

into the Church through Christ. The ark, our Church teaches us, was an

emblem of the Church: not in its human building, nor in its final

perishing; but in that it saved souls by water. Did the Paschal Lamb

typify the Immaculate Victim in any thing more than its comparative

purity and its bloody death? We need not multiply such examples.

But there is another consideration to be adduced. Our Lord's own

parables must not be pressed too far. The history of the five wise and

five foolish virgins, must not be adduced to prove that the number of

the lost will equal that of the saved. This may be dangerous ground,

but the assertion is true. Every parable is figurative to a certain

point, and no further. Not that there is much danger of persons not

knowing where the line is to be drawn: any more than there would be in

the case of { cxv} one of a reverent mind, who was told that the

triplicity of aisles and windows typified a great doctrine. The

_British Critic_ made a very just observation on this point, that it

argued a great blindness of spiritual vision to deny such an emblem,

because the similitude was not complete in all points. Indeed if all

points answered so closely and exactly to each other, it is not clear

how a similitude would differ from a fac-simile. The very notion of a

thing being like another involves the fact that the two are not

identical. Nothing more is found or expected, than a similarity, an

analogy, in certain qualities. For in all symbolism it is quality and

not essence in which resemblance is sought.

Which leads us to consider another objection sometimes urged to the

effect that if a thing mean one thing it cannot mean another. For

example, if the nave and aisles represent the Holy Trinity, they

cannot also represent the Church Militant here on earth, or in another

point of view the true fold. Again, if the piers and arches set forth

the foundation of the apostles and prophets, they must not bear a part

in the representation of the Trinity together with the cleristory and

triforium. But this difficulty vanishes if we remember that the

resemblance, for the most part, is derived from grouping independent

things together and viewing them in a particular light. We do not deny

the _real_ essential symbolism of a material result: but this its

particular significancy need not obtrude itself at all times: the

thing itself in other combinations, and viewed under other aspects,

may acquire an additional and occasional meaning. For example, it is

the union of the rose, thistle, and shamrock, which is the emblem of

our United Empire: they have each their own figurative sense; in

combination they acquire a new meaning. The harp is not less the

emblem of Ireland, because it must primarily represent music. {cxvi}

Leaven was of old the symbol of wickedness: our Lord spake of the

leaven of the Scribes and Pharisees: yet we hear from His own lips,

The kingdom of heaven is like unto leaven. [Footnote 77]

[Footnote 77: We have the highest authority for believing that one

type can symbolise two things quite independent of each other, in

that the Jewish Sabbath, commanded from Sinai to be observed in

commemoration of the Rest after the Creation, is enforced in

Deuteronomy as the representation of the rest of the children of

Israel from Egyptian bondage. 'Remember,' says Moses, 'that thou

wast a servant in the land of Egypt, and that the Lord thy God

brought thee out thence through a mighty hand and by a stretched out

arm: _therefore_ the Lord thy God commanded thee to keep the Sabbath

day.'--Deut. v, 15.]

Another objection is as follows: If this theory be true, how will you

account for churches with nothing but a nave, or with only one aisle;

how for churches with neither cleristory nor triforio; or, on the

other hand, for those with double triforia, or with four or five

aisles? Now we never asserted that it was necessary that all, or

indeed any, given things should be intentionally symbolised. We have

pointed out that some things are essentially symbolical; others

accidentally and occasionally. We might attempt to classify what

_must_ be symbolised in church building, and what _may_ be. But we

decline to do so because we do not think that the principles of

symbolism are yet sufficiently investigated or apprehended. However,

in a general way, _every_ building must, from the nature of things,

have some accidents, as of material, of parts, of plan; every

particular building must have particular accidents, as of use and

purpose. These accidents _must_ be symbolical, from their nature, in a

general way: they may derive, from purpose added to their nature, a

further or modified symbolism in a particular way. With the first sort

it is that Durandus chiefly concerns himself A building must have

walls, must have roof, piers, windows, corners, and floor. For each

then he finds a meaning. {cxvii} He does not quite neglect the second

sort. Early English windows must have a splay: the spire may have a

weathercock: for these then there is an appropriate signification. So

we do not mean to insist that certain things _shall_ be symbolised, we

say they _may_ be symbolised. Perhaps when more is known, we shall be

able to criticise ancient buildings, to show their faults or their

shortcomings in this particular. As it is, we have framed a sort of

_beau ideal_ of a church, fully formed and developed, which we should

propose as a perfect model. We are not qualified as yet to blame the

ancient churches which do not come up to this ideal, but we cannot be

wrong in praising such as do.

In discussing Mr. Lewis's illustrations of Kilpeck church, we touched

upon the Basilican origin of churches considered as an argument

against the reception of the symbolical theory. Our last remarks will

apply to the same question. It has been thought quite sufficient

ground for turning into ridicule the whole principle, that the Roman

justice halls had three or more aisles, or that a barn or banquetting

room may have three longitudinal divisions. But what if mechanical

convenience suggested the arrangement? (though we do not grant this).

It is clear that many churches, many barns, and many refectories have

never had a triple arrangement. It has never been asserted that every

church shall have nave and aisles: but if a church has nave and aisles

it will be symbolical of a great doctrine; and for this reason it is

better for a church to have nave and aisles. Why do not such writers

argue that the cross form is not symbolical, because many barns are

cruciform? Now it is instructive to observe that there is a great and

obvious utilitarian advantage in this shape for a barn: but not in the

case of churches as _anciently arranged_; in which the transepts were

utterly useless for the {cxviii} accommodation of worshippers; and in

which there is a mechanical evil (as before mentioned) from the

lateral pressure on the lantern piers. Yet it is undeniable that the

cross form was chosen for its symbolical meaning: and this in spite of

mechanical disadvantages. A mechanical reason fails here, as in the

former case, in accounting for the fact. How will they account for the

cross form? Their own argument tells against them. We may still

further remark that in modern times we have had some curious practical

lessons upon this cross form. Messrs Britton and Hosking, in their

atrocious plan for rearranging S. Mary Redcliffe church, unwittingly

testified to the inconvenience, and want of any utilitarian end, of

this plan by placing the pulpit under the lantern, and ranging the

congregation in the four arms so as to face it. On the other hand,

some modern architects confessedly employ the cross form because it

allows of people arranged as in the last case, all seeing the

preacher. But why do they not look deeper into things? Why have the

cross at all? Why not have an amphitheatre, an octagon, an

accoustically designed Mechanic's Institute Lecture Room? Then all

could hear, all could see much better, and the building would not cost

half so much. They may think that they are designing on utilitarian

principles. In truth they are unknowingly, unwillingly, symbolising

the Cross.

{cxix}

The Symbolism of Churches and Church Ornaments A Translation of the First Book of the Rationale Divinorum Officiorum · 第 9 / 14 章