ST. AUGUSTINE’S CHURCH, close to Hereford-Square, South Kensington, is a
temporary iron erection, and, like most such buildings, possesses no
architectural features or details worthy of notice. The Incumbent, the
Rev. R. R. Chope, B.A., five or six years ago conceived a necessity for a
church in that place, and, means failing him to obtain a substantial
structure, or to procure a separate site, he made use of a corner of his
own private garden, put up the iron building, and called it the “Church
of St. Augustine.” It is a low, dull, dingy-looking object outside, and
as a stranger approaches it—with its roof only just visible above the
garden-wall, it is in danger of being passed without notice, except one
should suppose it a rather large conservatory or garden shed. It must
have required some courage in a minister to attempt a church for himself
in such a position; and we are not surprised after this that Mr. Chope is
now going on to a larger and more promising enterprise. In the
Queen’s-gate, a new and permanent church is rising, under the same energy
which originated the first.
The present “St. Augustine’s,” in the interior, is a long narrow space
fitted with very plain benches, all being free to all-comers, and capable
of containing 700 or 800 persons. They were well filled on Sunday
morning, the 7th of May, with a congregation remarkable for its
preponderance in the female element. One whole side of the church is
reserved entirely for females, and no intrusion of the other sex is
allowed. On the other side both sexes are compelled to mingle, and even
there two-thirds are of the feminine gender. To say that the service
here is High Church is not saying all the truth; it is Ritualistic, and
highly so, in its whole spirit and ceremonial. It is, in fact, the
nearest approach to Romanism that we have yet witnessed in an Anglican
Church in the course of these visitations, if indeed it be not very
Popery itself under the thinnest guise of the Protestant name. The
communion-table is called an _altar_, and regarded as such in fact, and
decorated accordingly. It is covered with a white cloth embroidered with
yellow and red flowers and fringe. It has a large gilt cross upon it,
two huge gilt candlesticks, and several vases of flowers. Branching
candelabra also on its right and left. The ministers are called
_priests_, and look very priestly in their garments, with short surplice
and long cassock, and stole of yellowish silk with rich embroidery and
fringe. In the absence of the Incumbent, the Curate, the Rev. A. J.
Foster officiated.
Prior to the beginning of the service, an official in long cassock with
tassels was busy in arranging the chancel furniture, and adjusting a silk
embroidered covering upon the altar over the elements to be used in the
celebration of the Eucharist. This work he performed with the minutest
punctilio, moving backward and forward and on one side to see its effect,
and never failing to bow on passing the Cross, and on leaving off moving
backward and bowing.
On entering church, the people, before taking their seats, bow one knee
in the aisle towards the altar, and some cross themselves precisely in
the manner of Roman Catholics. The time of service arrived, the organist
takes his seat, having on a surplice and purple hood with white fur
trimming, and, sending out a few solemn strains, the choir is heard in
the vestry at the remote end of the church singing “Amen.” It sounds
like a distant echo among the mountains. Immediately the people rise,
and choristers and clergy walk in procession through the centre aisle to
the chancel.
Except the lessons, which were read in a serious and rational manner by a
stranger, an aged clergyman, who did not seem quite at home in his
priestly apparel, and appeared, amidst all the circumstances, somewhat to
dislike himself, the whole service was intoned and sung. The music was
Gregorian, and performed in its most sombre mood. The congregation
appeared perfectly trained to bowings and genuflexions. At every mention
of the Saviour’s name they bent lowly, and during the whole of the first
part of the _Gloria Patri_. In one of the hymns, the sacred name
occurred in every verse, and in some verses almost every line, and there
was a constant bending and rising. It appeared merely a mechanical
process, and quite inconsistent with that mental gravity which is
essential to true devotion. Amidst all this mechanism of outward
worship, we regret to say there was small visible evidence of spiritual
concern. It was the coldest piece of formalism it has been our lot to
witness in an English church.
In intoning the Litany, the clergyman came out of his desk, crossed
himself, and knelt with both knees on the lowest step of the chancel in
front of the altar, with his back to the people. This motion is quite
advanced in Ritualistic practice; and, taken together with the peculiar
strain of the intoner’s voice, and its rising at the end of every verse
of that sublime and all-comprehending prayer, gave the service the stamp
of parody rather than of sincere and enlightened Christian devotion. We
can only express ourselves in this form, for nothing else will indicate
our real sense and conscience of this mode of religious service. The
puerilities of Romanism Englishmen we thought had learnt to despise, and
yet here are some untalented young gentlemen in the Church of England
whose habits would deprave our Protestant religious instincts and lead
the young and weaker intellects of our race back into the thraldom of
Popish superstition. After the Litany there was a hymn, and then
followed the sermon, differing in this respect from the usual church
order, which places the sermon after the Creed in the Communion Service.
After ascending the pulpit and crossing himself, pronouncing “To God the
Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost,” whilst standing erect, the text was
taken from John xvi. 7, “Nevertheless, I tell you the truth; it is
expedient for you that I go away,” &c. As in most cases where excessive
attention is lavished on the mere ceremonial, the sermon failed to fulfil
the most modest ideal of pulpit work. There appeared to be no intention
or effort to give it effect either as an exposition or application of
Scripture. In this case, too, it was evident the preacher could not
shake off the intoning habit of voice, but carried it in great measure
with him from the desk to the pulpit. The principal point of doctrine in
the sermon was on the important subject of God _dwelling_ in believers,
and was stated in this way: “As St. Paul said we were the temples of God
by the Holy Ghost dwelling in us; so God the Son dwelt in us by _means of
his holy sacraments_”. “For,” it was further explained, “by the holy
sacraments he gives us spiritual life; for, except we eat the flesh of
the Son of God and drink his blood, we have no part in him,”—a strange
confusion of ideas between the outward and visible, and inward and
spiritual. Baptismal regeneration, sacramental efficacy, were clearly
articles in the preacher’s creed. We always thought the teaching of
Scripture to be that both God the Father and God the Son dwelt in the
true believer by one and the same inhabitation of the Holy Ghost. In
connection with this sublime principle of spiritual life, there is no
place in the Bible where such words as “by means of the holy sacraments”
are to be found. Feeble preaching can diffuse error if it cannot do
justice to the truth. After the sermon, during the singing of the hymn,
the offertory is taken every Sunday, by which the church is wholly
supported, and the minister passes to the Communion Service. The
collectors bow towards the altar on presenting the offertory bags in the
chancel, or on leaving; and in preparing for the celebration the
_priest_—with his back to the people—is long engaged, and on one occasion
kneels and rises quickly twice or thrice in succession before the
consecrated bread. The Rev. R. R. Chope has studied to make his service
as ornamental, high, and formalistic as can be under the Anglican name.
He says he believes that “the meanness and costliness of worship reflects
the spirit of the worshippers,” a fundamental error if it be attempted to
apply it as a general rule. We take it that there is a medium to be
observed, and in all cases the _costliness_ must be regulated by
circumstances.
Every Sunday at 8 A.M. there is Communion, Prayer (choral), with sermon,
at 11; second celebration at 12 30. Evening prayer (choral) and sermon
at 7 P.M. Thursday, at 8. A.M., Communion. 11 A.M., morning prayer.
Saints’ days: Two celebrations and daily prayer, at 8 A.M. and 5 P.M.
There are several small charities, a day-school, and Sunday-school, both
in their infancy.