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