THE CATHEDRALS VS. THE GOSPEL.
LONDON, _October 2, 1902_.
[Sidenote: Original Significance of the Cathedrals.]
Before saying what I had in mind when I remarked, in a former letter,
that in some respects the English cathedrals had proved to be
hindrances to vital religion, I wish to cite what Goldwin Smith says
of the significance and beauty of these glorious monuments of mediæval
piety: "Nothing so wonderful or beautiful has ever been built by man
as these fanes of mediæval religion which still, surviving the faith
and the civilization which reared them, rise above the din and smoke of
modern life into purity and stillness. In religious impressiveness they
far excel all the works of heathen art, and all the classical temples
of the Renaissance. Even in point of architectural skill they stand
unrivalled, though they are the creations of an age before mechanical
science. Their groined roofs appear still to baffle imitation. But we
do not fully comprehend the marvel, unless we imagine the cathedrals
rising, as they did, out of towns which were then little better than
collections of hovels, with but small accumulation of wealth, and
without what we now deem the appliances of civilized life. Never did
man's spiritual aspirations soar so high above the realities of his
worldly lot as when he built the cathedrals." The last proposition
is not true. What Professor Smith wished to say was that never did
an outward, material expression of man's religion so far surpass all
his other outward conditions. But even when thus stated, it must be
remembered that these great structures were not erected by those
who inhabited the "hovels" referred to, but by kings, or nobles,
or prelates who lived in palaces and rolled in wealth. Still, the
cathedrals were built as an expression of religion. Religion in
the Middle Ages expressed itself chiefly in the erection of these
costly and splendid buildings, as it now expresses itself chiefly in
missionary activity.
[Sidenote: Their Æsthetic Influence.]
Passing by, for the present, Westminster Abbey, Canterbury and
Winchester, which excel all others in historical interest, and St.
Paul's, which, though the largest of all, is modern, we may agree
fully with Smith's estimate of the relative merits of the different
cathedrals and the effect produced by them: that "Salisbury is the most
perfect monument of mediæval Christianity in England"; that in height
and grandeur the palm is borne off by York; in beauty and poetry,
by Lincoln; that Norman Durham, "half church of God, half castle
'gainst the Scot," is profoundly imposing from its massiveness, which
seems enduring as the foundations of the earth, as well as from its
commanding situation; that Ely also is a glorious pile, on its unique
mound among the fens; and that Wells and Salisbury are "the two best
specimens of the cathedral close, that haven of religious calm amidst
this bustling world, in which a man tired of business and contentious
life might delight, especially if he has a taste for books, to find
tranquillity, with quiet companionship, in his old age. Take your stand
on the close of Salisbury or Wells on a summer afternoon when the
congregation is filing leisurely out from the service and the sounds
are still heard from the cathedral, and you will experience a sensation
not to be experienced in the New World."
Having shown by these citations that Goldwin Smith is not indifferent
to the æsthetic influence of the cathedrals, I wish now to quote from
him a final paragraph which states very well the practical point to
which I referred in the outset:
[Sidenote: Their Romanizing Tendency.]
"The cathedral and the parish church belong to the present as well
as to the past. Indeed, they have been recently exerting a peculiar
influence over the present, for there can be no doubt that the spell
of their beauty and their adaptation, as places of [Roman] Catholic
devotion, to the Ritualistic rather than to the Protestant form of
worship have had a great effect in producing the Neo-Catholic reaction
of the last half century. Creations of the religious genius of the
Middle Ages, they have been potent missionaries of the mediæval faith."
I wish to call special attention to this ominous feature of the
influence of English cathedrals upon the forms, and thus eventually
upon the spirit, of Christian worship. I am not unsusceptible, I think,
to the glorious beauty of these stately buildings, or the spell of
their exquisite music, or the fascination of their spectacular forms
of worship. I shall never forget the solemn impression made upon my
mind the first time I ever entered a great cathedral, when, at Chester,
I stepped from the broad glare of outer sunshine into the cool, dim
light of the minster, and heard the choir of white-robed, sweet-voiced
boys responding with a prolonged, musical "A-men," accompanied by
the great organ, as the priest intoned the English service. But I am
clear, nevertheless, that Goldwin Smith is right in saying that by
their adaptation to the ritualistic rather than the Protestant form of
worship the cathedrals have been potent missionaries of the mediæval
faith.
The Roman Catholic ideal of Christian worship is very different
from that of Protestants. Its functionary is a priest, who offers
sacrifice, and performs the ceremonies of an elaborate ritual. Its
appeal is chiefly to the senses and the æsthetic sensibilities.
Protestants, on the other hand, hold that the minister is not a priest,
but a teacher; his function is not the performance of ceremonies, but
the inculcation of truth. The truly Protestant churches appeal chiefly
to the mind rather than to the senses, they rely upon ideas rather than
ceremonies, because they know that only by the intelligent apprehension
of truth can the spiritual life be really nourished and developed. In
a Romish church the central thing is the altar. In a Protestant church
the central thing is the pulpit. In short, Romish churches are built
for ceremonies, and Protestant churches for preaching. The cathedrals
were erected as Romish churches. There was little or no thought of
their being used for preaching. They were erected as expressions in
stone of religious aspiration; they are "frozen music"; they are places
for processions, and incense, and altars, and pictures, and vestments,
and chants, but they are not adapted to preaching. They are too large,
for one thing. No man could make himself heard throughout some of them.
Nor was it intended that he should.
[Sidenote: Their Charm for the Greatest of the Puritans.]
It is an extraordinary paradox that the finest expression in any
language of the idea which lay in the minds of those who built the
cathedrals was given by a Puritan writer:
"But let my due feet never fail
To walk the studious cloisters pale;
And love the high embowe'd roof
With antique pillars massy proof:
And storied windows, richly dight,
Casting a dim, religious light.
There let the pealing organ blow
To the full-voic'd choir below,
In service high and anthems clear,
As may, with sweetness through mine ear,
Dissolve me into ecstasies,
And bring all heaven before mine eyes."
Thus Milton in _Il Penseroso_, the interpretation of which I must leave
to the students of that exquisite poem. Only let it not be forgotten
that in his _Eikonoclastes_, Milton ridicules the organs and the
singing men in the King's chapel, as well as the "English mass-book" of
the "old Ephesian goddess called the Church of England." I am sorry to
say, Milton is at times vituperative in his prose writings.
[Sidenote: A Half-reformed Church.]
Let us be more respectful in our references to the Church of England.
It contains many good people and has done much good work. Still, it
is an indisputable fact that it never has been a thoroughly reformed
church. Its origin as a separate church was different from that of
the Reformed churches. Not through the protracted struggles of people
and ministers did it win out clear from Romanism, with generally
diffused and clear convictions of truth, as was the case with the
really Reformed churches, but by the act of Henry VIII. detaching a
certain portion of the Catholic Church from the papacy, for interesting
domestic reasons, and making himself the head of the church. That
was the origin of the Church of England as entirely distinct from
the Church of Rome. Henry did not wish to become a Protestant at
all, nor did he wish the people to change their religion, and, as a
matter of fact, he had people burned alive for being Protestants. Of
course, Protestantism did make progress afterwards under Edward VI.
and Elizabeth, but there never was a sufficiently decisive break with
Romish doctrine and Romish forms of worship. And, the architecture of
the cathedrals and parish churches being what it is, there has been a
constant tendency to relapse to the Romish model outright.
If we seem to attribute too much influence to mere architecture, let
it be remembered that the structure and arrangements of the college
buildings at Oxford, which did not admit of family life, but were
designed for the mediæval clerical students who were celibates, have
had a tendency to revive the monk, and that, as a matter of fact,
these Oxford colleges produced Newman and the other leaders of the
Anglo-Catholic reaction in our day, to say nothing of Laud and his
reaction two centuries ago.
[Sidenote: Relics of Romanism.]
How easily the cathedrals may aid Roman Catholicism, and how strong
is the lingering influence of what Macaulay calls "that august and
fascinating superstition," may be seen not only in the general
character of the services, but also in certain details. Each cathedral
has what is still called a Lady Chapel, that is, a chapel dedicated
to Our Lady, the Virgin Mary. In the Lady Chapel of Winchester
Cathedral is a series of highly prized wall paintings, of whose
edifying character the reader may judge when he learns that one of them
represents "the Virgin commanding the burial of a clerk of _irreligious
life_ in consecrated ground, because he had been her votary"; while
another depicts a miracle by an _image_ of the Virgin, which is bending
its finger, so as to prevent a young man from taking off a ring, given
him by his lady love, which he had placed on the image that it might
not be lost or injured while he played at ball. "By this the young man
was won to monastic life." Does this mean that he jilted the girl, or
that she discarded him for losing her ring?
Again, the inscription on the tomb of the builder of that cathedral,
William of Wykeham, the same who built the round tower at Windsor
Castle, records his work as bishop, politician, and founder of
colleges, and concludes with this injunction:
"You who behold this tomb cease not to pray
That, for such great merits, he may enjoy everlasting life."
Finally, the most striking effigy on any tomb in Winchester Cathedral
is that of a great dignitary of the Romish Church, Cardinal Beaufort,
represented here by a very fine recumbent figure in scarlet cloak and
hat. He was enormously wealthy, was four times Lord Chancellor of
England, was present at the burning of Joan of Arc at Rouen, and is
said to have burst into tears and to have left the horrible scene; but
he persecuted the Lollards and gave a half million pounds to put down
the Hussites in Bohemia, in which crusade he was general and legate.
Yet here he lies, one of the most honored figures, in what is generally
regarded as a Protestant church.
These points are sufficient to indicate what I mean by saying that the
cathedrals have in some respects had an unfavorable influence upon the
doctrine and worship of the Church of England.
[Sidenote: Presbyterians also have Felt the Effect of them.]
If at the Reformation every cathedral in Great Britain had been pounded
to pieces by the iconoclasts, it would have been an immeasurable
calamity to art, but it might have been a real gain for religion. At
any rate, it is ritualism rather than religion that is now promoted
by the cathedrals. Nor is the English Church the only one that has
inherited these splendid but baleful monuments of mediæval Romanism.
The Presbyterian Church has come into the possession of a few. The
people of Scotland at the time of the Reformation, remembering their
oppression and impoverishment by the great church establishments, and
disregarding the more moderate counsels of their leaders, smashed
most of these buildings which fell to them, witness Melrose Abbey and
many others--John Knox speaks of "the rascal multitude" that destroyed
the buildings at Perth--but one or two they spared, for example, the
Cathedral at Glasgow. It is maintained by some that the same tendency
to ritualism manifests itself in these Presbyterian cathedrals as in
others, though, of course, not to the same extent. Certainly our simple
and scriptural forms of worship, with the prominence which they give
to the preaching of the Word, suit a warm, home-like church, where
everything can be heard, much better than they do a cold and vast
cathedral of stone which is too large for any congregation that ever
assembles in it, and where the voice of the preacher is lost among the
lofty arches.
While the Presbyterians have in some cases not freed themselves
completely from the Romish associations, and in the great buildings
which were erected for Romish worship show something of the same
tendency to undue ritualism, still I think it will be generally
conceded that they severed the connection with Rome more effectually,
on the whole, than any other church.
[Sidenote: Protestant Simplicity more Impressive.]
Nor did their worship lose in real religious impressiveness. Even Sir
Walter Scott (who, though a Presbyterian elder, had a strong leaning to
the ritualistic churches), in the twentieth chapter of _Rob Roy_, puts
into the mouth of his hero this description of the Presbyterian service
in the crypt of Glasgow Cathedral:
"I had heard the service of high mass in France, celebrated with all
the _éclat_ which the choicest music, the richest dresses, the most
imposing ceremonies, could confer on it; yet it fell short in effect
of the simplicity of the Presbyterian worship. The devotion, in which
every one took a share, seemed so superior to that which was recited
by musicians as a lesson which they had learned by rote, that it gave
the Scottish worship all the advantage of reality over acting."
The more I see of the high church "service" the more incomprehensible
it seems to me that any thoughtful man can take any other view than
the one thus expressed by Scott. The service he describes was indeed
conducted in a cathedral, but it was in the crypt, the part best
adapted to intelligent Protestant worship, on account of its smaller
dimensions and better acoustics.