Stones of the Temple; Or, Lessons from the Fabric and Furniture of the Church

CHAPTER XIV

A LOOSE STONE IN THE BUILDING

A DIGRESSION

Since the last conversation which we recorded between the Vicar and Mr. Dole, the character of the latter had become much softened. On various occasions they had been brought into each other's company, and the consequence was that each had begun to think more favourably of the other, and to find some unsuspected good qualities which promised well to establish between them that cordial good feeling and mutual respect which ought always to exist between a Pastor and each member of his flock.

The following close of a long conversation might explain the loss of esteem and influence which many a parish priest, besides the Vicar of St. Catherine's, has had to deplore: —

"Well, Mr. Ambrose, had we known each other more, we should have understood each other better; my lips, at least, would have been saved the guilt of many hard words; perhaps, too, sir, you would have thought of me a little more charitably."

"There may be truth in that, Mr. Dole," said the Vicar; "but then you must own that you have always shown such sternness and severity to wards me as to forbid any friendly approach on my part. I have, indeed, put it down, in a great measure, to that harsh judgment of the conduct and opinions of others which I considered your form of dissent tended to foster – but this has not relieved me of my difficulty."

"I suppose I must confess that those who hold very strictly to the doctrines in which I have been brought up, have generally a severe and sour bearing to wards others who do not believe as they do, and, indeed, very often to wards members of their own body also. Then, you see, sir, at their prayer meetings, and their Sabbath services, they get much more excited and animated than people do at church, and so, perhaps, it's natural for them to be a little more subdued and less lively when they are out of 'meeting.'"

"Yes, that's natural; and no doubt what you say accounts for some differences in the opinions we form of each other's characters. At 'meeting' I am aware persons are commonly wrought up, by exciting appeals, loud words, and wild gestures, to a state of high pressure, of which we at church know little; and so they consider the calm, dignified solemnity of our services as cold and lifeless. Out of 'meeting' a reaction takes place, and they become comparatively depressed and undemonstrative, and we consider them morose and ill-tempered; we have no such reaction to undergo, and to us the world seems brighter than to them, and so they think us frivolous and worldly. But for my part, Mr. Dole, I can't possibly see what is the use of a man's speaking ten times louder than is necessary in order to make himself heard, just that he may produce a fever-heat in the pulses of his congregation. If continued for any length of time, it leads to something very like temporary madness; if not, it is likely to subside into a dull, sullen apathy. Moreover, I have yet to learn that it is wrong, provided we do not abuse them, to enjoy the good things God gives us, with a cheerful countenance– aye, and with a merry heart, too.

"On that point I have for some time been inclining to your opinion, sir; though, I fear, you will think I have not given much outward proof of it. But, nevertheless, you have in this matter as yet partly mistaken me – indeed we have partly mistaken each other. Perhaps my religion may, in some degree, account for my seeming gloominess and indifference; but these have arisen quite as much from home sorrows and disappointments, and the coldness and cruelty I have experienced from others. I will not, however, trouble you with these matters now, more than to say, that if you could have overlooked the ungracious words I may sometimes have said to and of you, and have looked in upon me, and for my evil have returned good, by speaking some kind and friendly words to me, you would have done much to brighten a life that has known but little sunshine; for I have longed more than I can tell you for a friend to whom I could fearlessly tell the sorrows of my heart. I know I have been to blame, for I always used to think you too proud to take much interest in my cares and troubles; may be, sir – I am sure you will forgive my plain speaking – may be we have been both a little to blame.

"Now, Mr. Ambrose," continued his parishioner, in a far more cheerful voice than was usual with him, "you know that since your friendly conversation with me that day in the church, I have followed the advice you then gave me, and have never failed to be one of your congregation at least once on the Sunday. I trust I have profited by what you have taught me: will you not be offended if I for a moment turn the tables, and preach a few words to you? I don't mean to you yourself personally, sir, but I mean to you as one of the ministers of the Church."

"I am sure you will not say any thing that will give me just cause for offence, my friend, and so I promise not to be offended."

"Well then, sir, you know I have always lived amongst Dissenters, so I know pretty well who and what they are. You will agree with me, that there are many excellent people among them, and there are some learned people among them; but generally they have but little learning. Very often their attention has been almost solely directed to a single point of doctrine which itself forms the ground of their dissent from the Church – just as with me; though I do not think the Church is quite right on some other matters, yet I should not separate from it could I be persuaded that the Church was right about Baptism. That has always been my one great stumbling-block. But I think, sir, speaking with all respect for yourself, that there is one great cause in the Church ministers themselves which has kept the Dissenters from coming back to the Church. I know that this has more to do with the past than the present; I know too that it could not of itself justify any one in separating from the Church. But, sir, look at the class of people Dissenters are of, in this country; their whole strength lies in the middle and the small-trade class. There are among them comparatively very few rich and educated, very few poor. You will say the love of the power and position which those people obtain for themselves in the meeting-house, but which they could not possess, in the same way, in the Church, naturally draws them to the Dissenters. That is no doubt partly true; giving them also credit – as I am sure you do, sir – for higher motives. But I see another reason; and that is, the wide difference between the Church ministers and the people."

"I see what you mean," said the Vicar: "the difference in their social position. I admit that the social position of the dissenting preacher is more on a level with that class of which, as you say, Dissenters are chiefly composed than is that of the Clergy. But then, Mr. Dole, the Church does not only retain its hold on the upper and the educated classes, but also on the poor (of course I speak generally; for there are, alas! a large number of these which are beyond the reach of any religious ministrations whatever)."

"Ah, yes, sir, that's the very point. I think in times past the Church ministers have stood too much on their social and worldly dignity: they have made too much of the man, and too little of the office. It's different now almost every where. But you see, sir, this just separated them from the tradespeople, but it didn't separate them from the poor. They didn't feel their pride wounded when they took the horny hand of the labourer; but it was a greater trial of humility to shake hands with the tradesman over the counter, and to go and sit down in the parlour behind the shop, in the same friendly way in which they visited the poor cottagers. Then, you know, sir, there were many other ways in which this class was neglected: we think it was lest too great attention should lead to too great familiarity. The wealth and education of a tradesman perhaps sometimes made his social position border too closely on that of the Church minister, and perhaps the minister felt it his duty carefully to guard the narrow barrier; but, oh, dear me, sir, what is all that compared with the work God has given him to do! I don't think that one who has the salvation of his people at heart will stop to consider whether a friendly, faithful pastoral visit may or may not result in a more familiar nod from his parishioners for the future. Do you know, sir, I think this is one of the loose stones in your spiritual House."

"I agree with much that you have said, as regards past years: but you must not put all down to pride; you must make more allowances for men's peculiar habits, and circumstances, and manners. Only just now you excused a kindred fault in yourself on the ground of private cares and anxieties. However, our views on this matter are not far apart. I consider, with you, that a clergyman's office overrides all social distinctions; and that he should be equally at home at the squire's mansion, the tradesman's parlour, and the meanest cottage in his parish; none should be too high for his familiarity, none too low for his friendship: as Chaucer says, 'the beggar is his brother.' His social position is certainly as nothing compared with his official, and should always be made subservient to it. I cannot understand how any clergyman, who rightly estimates the high dignity of his sacred office as a priest, can take a different view from this. However – God be praised! – times are altered in this respect: the Clergy have thrown away almost every where that reserve which no doubt lost to the Church many of the class which the Dissenters have gained. And we see now the good results; for in thousands of parishes the sons and daughters of these very people are working hand-in-hand with their Pastor, and are among the most zealous and faithful children of the Church, bringing again within the walls of her Temples multitudes of those who have been fellow-wanderers with themselves, and so helping to repair, one by one, the many breaches which have, alas! been made in the House of the Lord."

CHAPTER XV

THE FONT

A few weeks after the interview mentioned in the last chapter, the Vicar preached three sermons from the same text, St. John iii. 5: "Except a man be born of water and of the Spirit, he cannot enter into the kingdom of God." The first sermon was on the necessity of Baptism; the second, on its benefits; and the third, on its mode of administration, specially in the case of infants. Mr. Ambrose could not help noticing that Mr. Dole was on each occasion deeply affected, for he saw tears on his face, which evidently manifested deep emotion within. He was, therefore, hardly surprised, when, after his third sermon, a knock at the vestry-door announced a visit from his parishioner.

"I have listened very attentively to your last three sermons, Mr. Ambrose," said he, "and the subjects of them have also, as you know, for a long time past been seriously and prayerfully considered by me; I am now come to ask you to receive me into the Church by Baptism."

"Have you never yet been baptized, my friend?" inquired the Vicar, taking his hand in a kind and friendly way.

"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 immersion70, 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 circumstances71 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 base72; I have never seen but one ancient wooden Font73; 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 it74."

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 courage75; 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."