THE PILLARS
It was the day before the Festival of the Ascension, and Ascension Day being not only one of the greatest festivals of the Christian year, but being, moreover, the day on which the people of St. Catherine's were used to commemorate with great rejoicing the restoration of their now beautiful temple, old Matthew and the Vicar were busily engaged assisting those of the parishioners, old and young, who had the time to spare and were sufficiently skilful, in decorating the church with flowers and evergreens.
"I remember, sir, when I was a boy, we used to call those twelve pillars that the ladies are putting the flowers on, the twelve Apostles," said old Matthew.
"It's a common number in large churches," replied the Vicar, "and the name for them which you remember is not an unusual one. I remember one church where there are eleven pillars, and the old sexton told me they stood for eleven of the Apostles, and that there would have been twelve, but Judas was omitted. The pillars of the church, as the chief supports of the fabric, are said to represent the Apostles, Prophets, and Martyrs[171]. As I have often told you, there is hardly a part of the church without its special meaning: 'even the smallest details should have a meaning, or serve a purpose[172],' and whatever has a meaning serves a purpose, and whatever serves a purpose, has a meaning, and a very important one too. The four main walls of the building have a similar meaning to the pillars. They are supposed to represent the four Evangelists[173]. The stones of which they are composed represent Christians—the living stones of the spiritual building[174]; the cement which joins them together is charity, 'the bond of perfectness[175]' which binds together the members of the Christian Church. The door[176] represents the means of entrance to the invisible kingdom; the windows remind us of that sacred presence which keeps out the storm of angry and sinful life, and admits the light of Christ and His Word. You see, Matthew, the old church builders were themselves Churchmen; sometimes even bishops were famous architects, like Gundulph, Bishop of Rochester, and William of Wykeham, Bishop of Winchester; and then they made themselves felt in all their works—I mean, they gave a religious character and meaning to all parts of the structure they reared. And so there were always a hundred preachers in the Church, though not a tongue uttered a single word."
"I understand what you mean, sir—the stones were the preachers."
"Just so, Matthew; and then the churches were always open, and people used to go and meditate and pray there at all hours; for in church they found themselves surrounded by so much that reminded them of Heaven and God's presence, and sacred things, and so little to remind them of the world and of sin, that they could think and pray there better than any where else. But in after times the old churches became neglected and dilapidated, and the new churches were so mean and cold and bare, that there was every thing to chill and nothing to warm devotion, and so people gave up the good old custom of going to hear the stones preach, and to say their daily prayers to God in His sanctuary. But the time is coming back again, I am thankful to say, and church builders are again good Churchmen, and regard the building of churches as a sacred art and a religious work; and the people are less contented to be ignorant about these things; and the churches are no longer closed from Sunday night to the next Sunday morning, as they used to be."
"I haven't read my Bible right, Mr. Ambrose, if it isn't a very wicked thing to allow God's House to go to decay. In our old church people seemed to have forgotten all about the 'beauty of holiness,' both in their manner of worship and in the house where they worshipped. They had their own houses 'ceiled with cedar and painted with vermilion,' and this house was 'laid waste[177].' I have been told how grand Queen Victoria's Palace is, and how beautiful the Parliament House is, and I have often thought that surely, sir, the house of the great King of kings, and the great Ruler of all our rulers should be grand and beautiful too. But our churchwardens not only didn't try to make the old church beautiful, sir, but hid as much as possible of whatever beauty they found."
"Too true, my friend," said the Vicar: "these old pillars had become so coated over with whitewash that their rich carved work could hardly be seen at all. Whitewash was the cheapest thing they could use to hide the green damp and the plaster patches, and for that reason I suppose they used it."
The work of decoration went on rapidly; the many busy hands soon effected a wonderful change in the appearance of the church, which gave it a very festive character. The choicest flowers were placed at the back of the altar, others were used in various ecclesiastical designs, or woven into wreaths of evergreens. The texts of Holy Scripture painted above the arches from pillar to pillar were neatly framed in borders of evergreens, and wreaths of the same were already twined around many of the columns[178].
The capitals of all the pillars were carved in imitation of the many wild flowers and ferns which grew in the neighbourhood[179]. Although these had been carved not less than five hundred years ago, the same wild flowers were still to be found in the parish; and every year on Ascension Day it was the custom at St. Catherine's to decorate each of these pillars with the same natural flowers that had been imitated in stone. It was a pretty custom, for as the natural leaves and flowers faded or were removed, their more enduring likenesses were disclosed, and remained throughout the year the faithful representatives of their bright and gay originals.