We must arrive at the same conclusion, if we consider the subject in an analytical way. For example: suppose a person, hitherto unacquainted not only with the general peculiarities of Christian churches, but also with Christianity itself, were to enter a cathedral; or (which will be a fairer case) were to visit a Catholic country, and examine its churches as a whole, would he not, if possessed of only ordinary intelligence, observe that the cross form, for example, was of most common occurrence, and, in the case of the larger buildings, was perhaps the only plan adopted? And would he not then naturally inquire why there should be this marked preference for a form, in itself inconvenient for purposes of hearing or seeing,[Footnote 21]and open to great mechanical objections, such as the almost resistless pressure of the four arms on the piers which stand at the angles of intersection?
[Footnote 21: That is, a Catholicarrangementof the church being presumed.]
But if he learnt that the religion for which these temples were designed was that of the Cross, he would at once see the propriety of this ground plan, and would confidently and truly conclude that this form was chosen in order to bring the Cross, by this symbolism, vividly and constantly before the eyes of the worshippers. To deny intended symbolism, in the case of such a person, would {lxii} clearly be absurd: shall it be less obvious to us? Our traveller would probably, being satisfied on this point, examine these buildings more closely. He would find an altar raised conspicuously above the surrounding level; and for this he might discover a practical reason; but why in so many cases (so many as well nigh to make a rule) are the steps eitherthreeor some multiple of three? Surely the fundamental doctrine of the Holy Trinity would, if explained to him, sufficiently account for this all but universal arrangement. Why, again, in every case does a screen separate one part of the church from the other? When our inquirer learns the principle of the separation of laity and clergy, this arrangement also will be at once intelligible and figurative. How unreasonable would the position of the font by the door appear to him, till he learnt the symbolical reason for its being placed there! And we may here remark that the practice of the last generation in removing old fonts, or using basins for substitutes, or in placing new fonts, near the altar, shows clearly enough that convenience and utility would have pointed out a very different place for the font from what is assigned by the canon, on symbolical grounds; grounds adduced in this case, as it would seem, to give weight to a decision so clearly opposed to all merely practical and obvious reasons. Again, the marked deviation of the orientation of the chancel from that of the nave, would be quite inexplicable till the beautiful and affecting symbolism of the arrangement were pointed out.
Again, it has not been left merely to the meditative ecclesiologist to observe that Christian architecture has as decided a characteristic of verticality, as Pagan architecture had of horizontalism. A mere artist could not fail of marking the contrast between Beauvais and the temples of Paestum. {lxiii } The contrast must then be admitted: but how must we explain it? Surely no accident could have developed the grovelling Pagan into the aspiring Gothic. What mechanical reasons could produce Westminster from even the Parthenon? But is not the phenomenon explained when we see in towering pier, spire, and pinnacle, the symbolical exhibition of that religion which alone aspires to things above, nay more, the figurative commemoration of that Resurrection itself, which alone originates, and only justifies, the same heavenward tendency. But if this be true; if these acknowledged peculiarities in Christian architecture be utterly unintelligible on any other supposition than this of a symbolical meaning, surely it is not unreasonable to receive so ready a solution of the difficulty: and, the principle admitted, why may not reasons of the same figurative nature be assigned for other arrangements, in themselves on any other interpretation not only meaningless but obviously useless or absurd?
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We have next to show, by a process of induction, that some principles of symbolism have always been observed in designing churches: that is to say, that without any actual acquaintance with the plan, details or arrangement of existing churches, we might gather from other sources, not only the probability, but the fact, that there was some reason (not merely mechanical or accidental) for the selection and universal observation of particular forms and ornaments, and peculiar rules of distribution.
First, we shall refer to the celebrated passage of S. Clement of Rome,[Footnote 22]about performing the Divine Offices decently and in order, as to time, and place, and circumstance. 'Where and by whom God willeth these to be performed He hath Himself defined by His most supreme will.' 'But where,' says Mede,[Footnote 23](discussing the passage with the view of establishing a particular point, namely, bowing towards the altar) 'hath the Lord defined these things, unless He hath left us to the analogy of the Old Testament?'
[Footnote 22: S. Clem. Rom., ad Corinth. I, 40.][Footnote 23: Mede, in Epist. lviii Folio, Lib. iv.]
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This indeed is obviously S. Clement's meaning: and not to go at any length into the consideration of all the particular forms or ceremonies of the Old dispensation which were perpetuated in the New—as the threefold Ministry deduced by S. Jerome, from the High Priest, Priests, and Levites; the Canonical Hours; the Gospel anciently laid on the altar, answering to the Two Tables, and the like—it will be sufficient to refer once more to the remarkable parallel between a Christian church and the Jewish Temple.[Footnote 24]There can be little doubt that Mede proved his point of the propriety of genuflexion towards the altar. We are contending for a much simpler thing: for no more indeed than the concession of a probability that in the earliest Christian churches there was at least this resemblance to the Temple; that there should be in both a Holy of Holies and an outer-court. Supposing this distinction to have been only made by a curtain, our point is nevertheless gained; and we would rest here on this one particular of resemblance only (though others might be insisted on); because, any one designed parallel being granted, the inference for others is easy. And here it will be enough to observe that the almost constant practice in ancient writers of applying to some one part of a Christian church a name or names derived directly from theHoly of Holiesis a strong argument in our favour: though the passages are often too incidental to be adduced as evidence of an intended symbolism.[Footnote 25]But, we repeat, the fact that a particular part of a church—(if we were now arguing for rood screens, we {lxvi} should show that any such distinction of parts made ascreen of some sortnecessary, even if we did not know what sort of screens really existed)—the fact that a particular part of a church was distinguished by names directly carrying us back to the exactly corresponding particular part in the Temple, shows that in the arrangement at least, if not in the building, of the earliest churches there was, at least in this one point, an intention to produce an antitype to the typical Tabernacle. It is observed in a note to Neander's history[Footnote 26]that if the interpretation of Michaelis be received there is evidence of a Christian church being built at Edessa, A.D. 202, with three parts, expressly after the model of the Temple.
[Footnote 24: See this carried out by Durandus. Appendix A.][Footnote 25: Compare, amongst others, S. Cyprian, Ep. 55; Euseb. x, 4.[Greek text][Greek text]; Id. vii, 18.[Greek text](the word used in the lxx for theSanctuary)'. S. Dionys. Areop., Ep. 8, ad Demoph.; S. Athanas.,Edit, Commel.Tom. ii, p. 255; Theod. H. E. iv, 17, v, 18; Concil. Tours. (A. D. 557). can. 4; S. Germ. Constant.In Theor. rer. Eccles.; Card. Bona.Rer Liturg.i, xxv, II; Dionys.Hierarch.cap. 2; S. Chrysost. Lib vi,De Sacerdotio.][Footnote 26: Rose's Neander, i, 246.]
Whatever may be the authority allowed to the Apostolical Constitutions, the fact that they touch at some length upon the form of churches is enough for our purpose. 'The church,'[Footnote 27]they say, 'must be oblong in form, and pointing to the East' The oblong form was meant to symbolise a ship,[Footnote 28]the ark which was to save us from the stormy world. It would be perfectly unnecessary to support this obvious piece of symbolism by citations. The orientation is an equally valuable example of intended symbolism. We gain an additional testimony to this from the well-known passage of Tertullian,[Footnote 29](a.d. 200,) about 'The house of our Dove.' Whether this corrupt extract be interpreted with Mede or Bingham, there can be no doubt that its {lxvii}in lucemmeans that the church should face the East or dayspring. The praying towards the East was the almost invariable custom in the Early Churches, and as symbolical as their standing in prayer upon the Festivals of the Resurrection.[Footnote 30]So common was orientation in the most ancient churches, that Socrates[Footnote 31]mentions particularly the church at Antioch as having its 'position reversed; for the altar does not look to the east but to the west.' This rule appears to have been more scrupulously followed in the East than in the West; though even in Europe examples to the contrary are exceptions.
[Footnote 27: Apost. Const, 2, 57, (61.)][Footnote 28: See also what is said on this point by Buscemi, in his Notizie della Basilica di San Pietro, ch. iii, p. 7. The church of SS. Vincenzo and Anastatio at Rome, near S. Paolo alle Tre Fontane, built by Honorius I, (A.D. 630) has its wallcurvedlike the ribs of a ship. The constitution itself refers to the resemblance of this oblong form to a ship. See also S. Clem. Alex.,Paedag, iii, 246.][Footnote 29: Tertull. advers. Valent., cap. 2.][Footnote 30: See Origen,Hom. 5, inNumer. cap, 4. Tertull.Apol. cap. 16, andAd Nation, i, 13. S. Clem. Alex.Strom, vii,ante med.quoted by Mede.][Footnote 31: Hist. Eccles. Lib. v, cap. [[Greek text].]
The Apostolical Constitution in its other directions about the position of the bishop, priests, and deacons, and the separate stations for the sexes, shows (as Father Thiers[Footnote 32]has remarked) that there was even then a marked distinction between the clergy and laity though the method of division is not described. At any rate, what has been here adduced—compiled from notes taken some time since for another object, and without access (from accidental circumstances) to a library—seems enough to show that in the earliest notices of Christian churches there is distinct intimation of at least three particulars of intended symbolism.
[Footnote 32: Thiers,Dissert, de la Clôture du Choeur des Eglises.cap. 2.]
The circular form given to the church of the Holy Sepulchre was of course appropriate enough in that particular case, where the sepulchre would naturally become the centre. The circular churches of Europe were again imitated from this. The Cross form would appear to have made its first appearance in Constantinople: that is, in the city which was the first to take a completely Christian character. {lxviii} For example, the church of the Apostles built by Constantine was cruciform: and the symbolism of this is pointed out by S. Gregory Nazianzen in his poem, 'the Dream of Anastasia,' quoted by Bingham.[Footnote 33]So Evagrius describes the church of S. Simon Stylites, as cited by Buscemi,[Footnote 34]who also mentions a Cross church founded by King Childebert, about the year 550. The cathedral of Clermont, mentioned by S. Gregory of Tours, and the church of SS. Nazarius and Celsus at Ravenna, both founded about 450, were cruciform. More than this, we have examples of an oblong church beingintentionallymade cruciform by the addition ofapsides, as at Blachernoe by Justin Junior, instanced by Bingham out of Cedrenus and Zonaras. This has been remarked also in the case of some Italian churches: though the early churches of the West seemed to have retained the oblong form, even when the details and general arrangement were Byzantine, as in theCapella Regiaat Messina; the more remarkable from the peculiar influence of Constantinople in the island of Sicily. But in either case there was a symbolising intention on the part of the founders of churches.
[Footnote 33: Carm. ix, tom ii, p. 79.[Greek text]][Footnote 34: Notizie etc. Note al Lib. 1, capo terzo. Nota 10 p. 15.]
There is mention also of octagonal churches, as at Antioch and Nazianzum: but these seem to have been mere exceptions; and perhaps from being coupled with fonts in the inscription quoted by Mr. Poole from Gruter, may have been intended to symbolise Regeneration. The first two lines are as follows:—
Octachorum sanctos templum surrexit in usus:Octagonus fons est munere dignus eo.
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Bingham mentions that the oblong form was sometimes called[Greek text]which he explains as intimating that they had void spaces for deambulation.[Footnote 35]It seems however more likely that the name was derived from the resemblance between this form of church and a stadium; the apsidal end answering to the curve round the goal.
[Footnote 35: Book viii, 3, following Leo Allatius and Suicer.]
Some objection may be raised to our theory because Bingham, from whom of course almost all the existing passages in ancient writers about the form of churches might be gathered, does not recognise any such principles, and rather seems on the other hand to believe that there was at first no rule or law on these points. But it is not detracting from his fame for almost consummate learning to question whether his practical knowledge of church architecture, ancient or modern, was very deep. It might be shown indeed to be far otherwise. But at any rate the principle now contended for never entered his mind, or he would have seen that some of the very passages he adduces to show that the form of ancient churches was accidental, because (for example) they were often made out of Basilicae or even heathen temples, really tell against such a supposition. He quotes from Socrates[Footnote 36]a description of the conversion of a Pagan island to Christianity, about 380, and the turning the heathen temple into a church. But the words of the original, given in our note, are very remarkable: 'The guise of the temple they transformed unto the type (or pattern) of a church.' We want to prove nothing more than that there wassometype of a church. It was not a mere ejection of idols that was required to make a temple into a church: but some change of form and arrangement. So also in a passage from Sozomen (vii, 15), 'The temple of Dionysus which {lxx} they had, was changed in fittings ([Greek text]) into a church.' Again, a very interesting passage about the conversion of Iberia by means of a female captive in the time of Constantine is cited from Theodoret,[Footnote 37]to show that churchesdid existat that date. But we find a particular form of building clearly alluded to in the original: and, more than this, 'He Who filled Bezaleel with a wise spirit for building, judged this captive also worthy of grace, so as to design the divine temple. And so she designed, and they built.' And this passage brings us at once to the famous panegyric on Paulinus, Bishop of Tyre, and builder of the church there preserved by Eusebius. In this speech the prelate is throughout supposed to have been inspired for his work, and is compared to Bezaleel, Solomon and Zerubbabel, the builders of the Tabernacle, and the First and Second Temples. And not only is the general spirit assumed to be a directly religious one: but the details are described as having a symbolical meaning.
[Footnote 36: Socrates iv, 24,[Greek text].][Footnote 37: Theodoret I. xxiv.[Greek text]]
In the comparison between the material temple and the 'living temple' the Spiritual Church, there are several points worthy of observation. The symbolical explanation of the corner stone as our Lord, of the foundation as the Apostles and Prophets, of the stones as the members of the Church, are of course taken directly from Holy Scripture. It is scarcely necessary to remark the great authority for considering the fabric of the church as symbolical which these passages convey. Many of our readers will remember how S. Hermas carries out into considerable detail the same idea. But the Panegyrist in Eusebius distinctly refers to 'the most {lxxi} inward recesses [of that spiritual temple] which are unseen of the many, and are essentially holy and holy of holies';[Footnote 38]that is, of course, to a Sanctuary; which he goes on to describe as having 'sacred inclosures,' and as being accessible to the priest alone; with a distinct reference to S. Paul's[Footnote 39]illustration taken from the Jewish Temple. Again he proceeds to compare the Bishop Paulinus with the 'great High Priest,' not only in being permitted to enter the holy of holies, but in doing what Christ has done, just as the Son did what He saw the Father do. 'Thus he, looking with the pure eyes of his mind unto the Great Teacher, whatsoever he seeth Him doing, as if making use of archetypal patterns, has, by building([Greek text])as much like them as possible, wrought out images of them as closely as can be; having in no respect fallen short of Bezaleel, whom God Himself, having filled him with the Spirit of wisdom and knowledge and other skilful and scientific lore, called to be the builder of the material expression of the heavenly types in the symbols of the temple. In this way then Paulinus also, carrying wholly like a graven image in his soul Christ Himself, the Word, the Wisdom the Light . . . has constructed this magnificial temple of the most High God, resembling in its nature the pattern of the better (temple) as a visible (emblem) of that which is invisible.'[Footnote 40]
[Footnote 38: Euseb. H. E., x, 4, 21.][Footnote 39: Hebrews, ix, 6, 7.][Footnote 40: Euseb. X, iv, 24, 25.]
This remarkable passage appears to assert (i) the inspiration of the architect, (ii) the fact of this heavenly type, which (iii) material churches ought to follow; and (iv) the general symbolism of the Spiritual Church by the visible fabric. We must pass over a great deal of this oration, with a general request that such as are interested in this discussion will read the whole in the original for the sake of seeing its general spirit and bearing. {lxxii } The description of the details is of great interest. The arrangement of the porticoes, etc., is of course quite adapted to the wants of the Church in that age: it is fair to own that the chief entrance appears to have faced the East in this church. Mention is made also of seats in order for the bishops and presbyters, and of the altar in the midst: the whole being encompassed with wooden network, exquisitely worked, in order to be made inaccessible to the multitude.[Footnote 41]Further on[Footnote 42]we read that Paulinus rebuilt his church, 'such as he had been taught from the delineation of the holy oracles.' And again, 'More wonderful than wonders are thearchetypes, and the intelligent and godlikeprototypesandpatterns(of earthly church building): namely, I say, the renewing of the divine and reasonable building in the soul';[Footnote 43]assuming that material churches are but copies from some heavenly type. Again, a passage, in which the ruined fabric and the persecuted Church are mixed up, speaks of the Church as 'having been made after the image of God,'[Footnote 44]and more to the same effect. The symbolical prophecy of the 'fair edification' of the Gentile Church[Footnote 45]is quoted as being almost literally fulfilled in the Tyrian church, and is still further symbolised by the Panegyrist.[Footnote 46]The four-square atrium is said to set forth the four Gospels of the scripture.[Footnote 47]
[Footnote 41: Euseb. H. E., x, 43][Footnote 42: Ibid 53.][Footnote 43: Ibid 54.][Footnote 44: Ibid 57.][Footnote 45: Isaiah liv, 11.][Footnote 46: Euseb. X. iv, 60.][Footnote 47: Ibid 61.]
The whole arrangement of the church is symbolised at much length, as setting forth the different divisions of the laity and the states of the faithful with respect to advance in holiness. The great portico symbolised God the Father: the side porticoes the other Two Persons of the Most Holy Trinity. The seats represented the souls of the faithful, upon which, {lxxiii} as on the Day of Pentecost, the cloven tongues would descend andsitupon each of them. 'The revered and great and only altar, what could this be but the spotlessness of soul and holiness of holies of the common Priest of us all?'[Footnote 48]Once more, the parallel between the spiritual and the material Churches being continued, the Word, the Great Demiurgus of all things, is said to have Himself made upon earth a copy of the heavenly pattern which is the Church of the Firstborn written in heaven, Jerusalem that is above, Sion the Mount of God, and the city of the living God.
[Footnote 48: Euseb. H. E., x, 65.]
It appears then that throughout this description a symbolical meaning is found attached to the material church: and this not far-fetched or now first fancifully imagined; but appealing, as it seems, to what the auditors would be prepared to grant, and admitted by the historian without a comment, as one specimen of a class.
We have before remarked that every notice of the particular distribution of a church for the reception of the different classes of Christians, may be taken as an argument on our side: for if it can be shown that the form of churches was not arbitrary, but was adapted to certain peculiar wants, it must be granted that there was some particular law of design, and that law connected with Ritual: and then, as before pointed out, this arrangement becomes itself symbolical, and thatintentionally. We shall only refer here to a passage quoted by Bingham,[Footnote 49]in which S. Gregory Thaumaturgus describes the places in church assigned respectively to the five degrees of Penitents. Mede[Footnote 50]argues for theexistenceof churches in the first three centuries, from the universal custom of praying towards the East, the necessity of {lxxiv} providing distinct places for the Penitents, Hearers, Catechumens, and Faithful, and from the patterns of the Jewishproseuchaeand synagogues. But all these arguments seem to tell as much for some particular form of churches as for their existence: that is they prove that the earliest churches were designed on rules which, even if not intentionally symbolical (though we have shown that many were so), became by a natural process intentional among later church-builders.
[Footnote 49: Greg. Nyssen, iii, 567.][Footnote 50: Discourse of Churches, Folio Edn., p. 333.]
So also with respect to the great division into nave and sanctuary by a screen of some sort: concerning which the passages that might be cited from ancient writers would be innumerable. We shall only give one quoted by Father Thiers from a Poem of S. Gregory of Nazianzum, in which thebalustradeor rood-screen is said to be 'between two worlds, the one immovable, the other changeful; the one of gods (or heaven) the other of mortals (or earth); that is to say between the choir and the nave, between the clergy and the laity.'
We have attempted to prove then that the earliest Christian churches were designed, or described, symbolically: by showing that there was a reason for their shape, whether oblong, cruciform, or circular; for their main division into choir and nave, and their subdivision for the penitents: for their orientation; and even to some extent for their minor internal arrangements: and that some type or pattern of a church was universally recognised.[Footnote 51]
[Footnote 51: Much stress is laid by some on the acknowledged Bascilican origin of churches as an argument against the principle here contended for. But we find a great authority on the Antiquities of Christian Rome deciding differently: 'There seems to be in the building of churches, as in the mosaics, and other works of art of the old Christian times in Rome one constant type in which the art of building could show little freedom or variety.—Beschreibung der Stadt Rom. Basiliken.vol, i, p. 430.]
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It would require more reading than we can boast of to give a catena of writers who have asserted the symbolism of churches. But if the point has been in any way proved for the first four centuries, enough will have been done: since from that period we can trace from existing edifices the gradual relinquishment of the peculiar Basilican plan, and general adoption of the Latin Cross, or oblong, in the West, while the East consistently retained the Greek Cross. We observe it stated[Footnote 52]that Mr. E. Sharpe, in a paper read before the Cambridge Camden Society, described the gradualtypicaladditions' to the Basilican ground plan. Indeed symbolism, to any extent, once made known, must have become a rule and precedent to later church architects.
[Footnote 52: Ecclesiologist, vol. i, p. 120.]
S. Isidore, of Seville, incidentally mentions many symbolical arrangements: they will be found in the notes to the text of the Rationale. Many pieces of symbolism are to be found incidentally in the Decretum of Gratian.
In mentioning Durandus himself, it seems proper to anticipate an objection which may occur to some readers. The authority, it may be said, of that writer must be very small who can give such absurd derivations ascemeteriumfromcime, altarefromalta res, allegoryfromallonandgore. But it must be remembered, firstly, that in the thirteenth century, Greek was a language almost unknown in Europe: next, that our author nowhere professes an acquaintance with it: further, that the science of derivation was hardly understood till within the last few years: and lastly, that Cicero's authority led Durandus into some errors; for instance, his derivation oftemplumfromtectum amplum.
One proof of therealityof Durandus's principles we must not fail to notice. It is the express allusion which he makes to, and the graphical description which he {lxxvi} gives of, that which we know to have been the style of architecture employed in his time. The tie beams, the deeply splayed windows, the interior shafts, all prove that we are engaged with a writer of Early English date.
It is very remarkable, that Durandus, S. Isidore, Beleth, and the rest, seem to quote from some canons of church symbolism now unknown to us. Their words are often, even where they are not very connected nor intelligible, the same. One example may suffice. 'In that this rod,' says Hugh of S. Victor, 'is placed above the Cross, it is shown that the words of Scripture be consummated and confirmed by the Cross: whence our Lord said in His Passion, "It is Finished."And His Title was indelibly written over Him' (p. 200). 'In that the iron rod,' says Durandus, 'is placed above the Cross, on the summit of the church, it signifieth that Holy Scripture is now consummated and confirmed. Whence saith our Lord in his Passion, "It is Finished,"and that Title is written indelibly over Him(p. 28). The following, by way of another instance, is the symbolical[Footnote 53]description of a church, written on a fly-leaf, at the beginning of a MS. 'Psalterium Glossatum,' in the public library at Boulogne, though formerly in that of S. Bertin's Abbey, at S. Omer.
[Footnote 53:British Magazine, 1843, p. 393.]
The text is either of the tenth or eleventh century; but it will be seen that the words of Durandus, writing at so great a distance of time and place, are nearly the same in some passages.
Fundamentum ipsius Camerae est Fides.Altitudo ejus est Spes.Latitudo ejus est Caritas.Longitudo ejus est Perseverantia.Latera ejus sunt Concordia et Pax.{lxxvii}Frontes ipsius sunt Justicia & Veritas.Pulchritudo ejus est exemplum bonorum operum.Fenestrae ejus sunt dicta sanctorum.Pavimentum ejus est humilitas cordis.Camera est conversatio coelestis.Pilastri ejus sunt spiritales virtues.Columnae ejus sunt boni pontifices & sacerdotes.Interlegatio ejus est vinculum pacis.Tectum ejus est fidelis dispensator.* isces ejus sunt mediatio celestis.Mensa Christi est in camera bona conversatio.Ministerium Christi in camera sua est bona memoria.Facinus Christi est bona voluntas.Canterellus Christi est nitor conscientiae.Cathedra Christi est serenitas mentis.Sponsa Christi est sancta anima.Camerariae Christi spiritales virtutes sunt:Prima Sancta Caritas dicta est; illa Christi regit cameram.Secunda est Sancta Humilitas; illa est thesauraria in camera ChristiTertia est Sancta Patientia; illa facit luminaria in camera Christi.Quarta Sancta Puritas; illa scopat cameram Christi.
But besides, and in our opinion stronger than this express and continuous testimony to the fact that Catholic architecture is symbolical, we have the testimony of all other branches of Catholic art, which none ever did, or could deny to be figurative and sacramental. Let us take merely the rites which accompany the close of Easter week. We enter a darkened church, illuminated only by the lighted 'Sepulchre': we hear the history of the Passion chaunted by three voices in three recitatives: we have the most mournfully pathetic strain for the 'Reproaches' which perhaps the human mind ever imagined:—we pray for Pagans—and we kneel; we pray for Turks—and we kneel; we pray for the Jews, and we kneel not; in abhorrence of the mockery that bowed the knee to the King of the Jews. We enter that church again, now perfectly darkened, except for the one lamp that renders the lectern and the books {lxxviii} thereon just visible: the solemn litanies seem in that obscurity, and amidst the silent crowd of worshippers, more solemn than usual. There is a short pause: then in one second, priests and people, voices and instruments, burst forth with the Easter Alleluia: light pours in from every window of the cathedral: showers of rose leaves fall from the roof: bells—silent for three long days, peal from every church tower: guns fire and banners wave:Dominus resurrexit vere, Alleluia, et apparuit Sinioni Alleluia.
Now, without being concerned to defend, or the contrary, any or all of these ceremonies, we ask:—Is it possible to conceive that the Church which invented so deeply symbolical a system of worship—should have rested content with an unsymbolical building for its practice? This consideration, perhaps, belongs to the analogical branch of our essay: yet it may also find a place here, as one of the strongest parts of the inductive argument.
Seeing then that there are strong reasonsà priorifor believing that the ritual and architecture of the Church would partake of a decidedly symbolical character: that by the analogy of the practice amongst all religionists, of the operations of God in nature, of the conditions of Art, and especially of the whole sacramental system of the Church, it is likely that church architecture itself would be sacramental: that from the nature of things everything material is in some sort sacramental, and a material fabric essentially figurative of the purpose for which it was designed: that an actual Christian church (taken as we find it) has such accidents as can be explained on no other than a symbolical supposition, and might be analysed into just those elements from which, by induction, we first constructed an hypothetical Christian church: and lastly, that from express and {lxxix} continuous historical testimony without any actual acquaintance with existing fabrics we might have deduced that the material church would be itself, to some extent, a figurative expression of the religion for the celebration of which it was constructed: it does not seem too much to assert that Christian architecture owes its distinctive peculiarities to its sacramental character, and that consequently we can neither appreciate ancient examples nor hope to rival them, at least in their perfection, without taking into account this principle of their design. In other words, the cause of that indefinable difference between an ancient and modern church which we were led to discover at the beginning of this treatise, is neither association of ideas nor correctness of detail, nor picturesqueness, nor of a mechanical nature, but (in the most general point of view) is the sacramentality, the religious symbolism, which distinguished and sanctified this as every other branch of mediaeval art.
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In endeavouring shortly to develop the practice of symbolism, according to our view of the subject, we are fully aware that to those who have never yet bestowed a thought upon it, we shall appear mere visionaries or enthusiasts. It has been the fashion of late to smile at the whole theory, as amusing and perhaps beautiful: but quite unpractical and indeed impracticable. We cannot hope to convince by aesthetics those who are deaf to more direct arguments, and who refuse to view everything, as churchmen ought to do, through the medium of the Church. But those who agree with us in the latter duty, will perhaps suffer themselves to think twice on what will be advanced before they condemn it.
We shall consider the practice of symbolism as connected with, 1. The Holy Trinity; 2. Regeneration; 3. The Atonement; 4. The Communion of Saints; and then we shall notice several parts of a church, such as windows, doors, etc., with their specific symbolical meaning.
The doctrine of the Holy Trinity has left, as might be expected, deeper traces in the structure of our churches than any other principles of our faith. We have already noticed that possibly the Basilican arrangement might be providentially ordered with reference to this. {Ixxxi} In Saxon times we find the idea carried out, not only by the Nave and two Aisles, but also by the triple division in length, into Nave, Chancel, and Sanctum Sanctorum. This triple division is most frequently given in Norman buildings, by a central tower; with chancel and nave: we also find in this style a triple chancel arch, an arrangement never occurring at a later epoch. Thus length and breadth were made significant of this Mystery; nor was height less so. The clerestory, the triforium, and the piers cannot fail to suggest it. Indeed, where a triforium was not needed, there is often, as at Exeter and Wells, an arrangement of arcading in niches to resemble it, made that the triplicity might be retained. It is only in late Perpendicular, such as the nave of Canterbury cathedral, that the arrangement is omitted: there the eye is at once dissatisfied. Again, the triple orders of moulding, which are so much more frequent than any other number, may be supposed to refer to the same thing. The altar steps, three, or some multiple of three, certainly do. So do the three fingers with which Episcopal Benediction is given. And this is a very early symbolism. It occurs in illuminated MS. We may mention one (Harl. 5540) of the thirteenth century, where it forms a part of the first letter of S. John's gospel. So, as we shall presently see, are Eastern triplets. And reference is constantly made to the same doctrine in bosses: we may mention as a remarkable instance one that occurs in Stamford, S. Mary's, a figure with an equilateral triangle in its mouth: thereby setting forth the duty of the preacher to proclaim the doctrine of the Trinity. In large churches, the three towers undoubtedly proclaim the same doctrine. We shall hereafter show that neither in nave and aisles, in triplets, or any thing else, is theinequalityany thing else than what might have been expected.
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We know, as a fact, that from the earliest times, baptisteries and fonts were octagonal. We know also that the reason assigned, if not by S. Ambrose himself at least by one of his contemporaries, for this form was, that the number eight was symbolical of Regeneration. For as the old Creation was complete in seven days, so the number next ensuing may well be significative of the new.
Now none can deny that very much the greater number of fonts are in this shape. To prove this we will refer to those selected by the Cambridge Camden Society in the appendix to the second edition of their 'Few Words to Church-Builders.' There we find.
Now, it is to be remembered, that the superior convenience of a cylindrical or circular form, together with the wont of Norman architects rather to symbolise facts than doctrine, accounts for the comparatively small number of octagonal fonts in that style: in later ages their preponderance is overwhelming.
The symbolism sculptured on the sides of the font hardly falls under our consideration in this place. And besides, it has been fully detailed in the publications of the Cambridge Camden Society, and of Mr. Poole. Whether the general octagonal uses of piers may not arise from a similar design, we do not pretend to decide.
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One of the most apposite illustrations incorbels, consists in three fishes intertwined in an equilateral triangle; and thus typifying our regeneration in the Three Persons of the Ever-Blessed Trinity. For it need not be said, that the fish is the emblem of the Christian, as being born again of water. The mystical vesica piscis of this form () wherein the Divinity, and (more rarely) the Blessed Virgin are represented has no reference, except in its name to a fish; but represents the almond, the symbol of virginity, and self-production.
We will notice in the third place, the symbolical representation of the great doctrine of the Atonement, in the ground lines and general arrangement of our churches.
As soon as ever Christianity possessed temples of her own, the cruciform shape was, we have seen, sometimes adopted. And so, as we all know, has it continued down to the present day. England, perhaps, has fewer examples of cross churches than any other country: the proportion of those which bear this shape being not so much as one in ten. In France, on the contrary, the ratio would probably be inverted. Into the reason of this remarkable difference we shall not now inquire: but will merely remark, that many churches which do not, in an exterior view, appear cruciform, are nevertheless, from their internal arrangements, really so. The transepts do not project beyond the aisles: but have distinct transept arches, and a window of much larger dimensions than those in the aisles. This principally occurs in city churches, or where the founders were confined for want of room. And this is the case as well in churches which have aisles to the chancel, as in Godalming, Surrey, as where the nave alone has them, {lxxxiv} as in Holy Rood, Southampton. They will be distinguished readily on the outside by the northern and southern gable. In some cathedral churches, there is a double cross: in York, this perhaps signifies the metro-political dignity of that church; in other cases, it was probably merely a method of imparting greater dignity to the building. Some churches—though they are not frequent—are in the form of a Greek Cross: that is, the four arms are all of equal length. Darlington, Durham, is an example: in this case there is a central tower. In some, as at Westminster, Gloucester, and S. Albans, the choir runs westward of the transept; in Seville, almost the whole of the choir is locally in the nave; in others, as Ely, it does not extend westward so far. These peculiarities, curious in themselves, do not affect the symbolism: and probably no modification of meaning is to be attached to them.
Mr. Lewis has asserted, that in early churches, a cross was marked on the pavement, the upper part running into the chancel, the arms extending into the transepts, and the body occupying the nave. And some such arrangement, or rather the traces of it, we have ourselves perhaps noticed. The reason it was given up, was probably the anathema pronounced by the second OEcumenical Council, on those who should tread on that holy symbol.
Thus, in the ground plan, the Cross of Christ was preached. It is often said, that the adjacent chapels, more especially the Lady Chapel, obscured the symbolism. But it must be remembered that a ground plan can only be judged of in two methods: either from a height above, for example, the tower of the church; or when marked out on paper. It is surprising, in either of these cases, how easily the most complex cathedral resolves itself to the spectator's eyes into a cross.
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In looking at the details of churches, the Cross is marked on the Dos-d'ânes and plain coffin lids of the earliest times: it commences the later inscriptions on brass: it surmounts pinnacle, and gable, and porch; it is often imprinted on the jambs of the principal entrance, showing the exact spot touched in the consecration with chrism,[Footnote 54]and possibly having reference to the blood sprinkled at the Passover on the Door Post: and finally, in a more august form, is erected in the churchyard. And here we may notice another curious and beautiful expression of Catholic feeling.[Footnote 55]
[Footnote 54: It is proper to distinguish between Dedication Crosses, which are generally of considerable size, examples of which may be seen in Moorlinch, Somersetshire, and those small crosses in door jambs, as in Preston, Sussex, the use of which is not very clear, but which were perhaps intended to remind the entering worshipper to cross himself. At Yatton, Somersetshire, inside the northern door, and towards the east, is a large quatrefoil-fashioned cross: this perhaps pointed out a now destroyed benatura.][Footnote 55: That there are some plain crosses, cannot be denied—more especially that on which the weathercock is placed. A little consideration will, perhaps, clear up this difficulty. The cross may be viewed in two distinct lights. It may either set forth that on which our Redeemer suffered—in which case it is the symbol of glory: or it may image that Cross which every true Christian is to take up—in which case it may still be called the Symbol of Shame. In the latter signification, it may well be quite plain. But, inasmuch as our ancestors looked more to the Passion of Christ than to their own unworthiness, the former symbol is that which generally occurs. Yet not always on the church spire, perhaps for this reason:—the spire urges us, by its upward tendency, to press on towards our heavenly home—a home which can only be reached by the cheerful bearing of that cross by means of which (as it were) it points. The cross therefore is here, with propriety, plain.]
It is very uncommon to find a plain cross surmounting a church: the whole force of Christian art has sometimes been expended in wreathing and embellishing the instrument of redemption: flowers, and figures, and foliage are lavished upon it. And why? Because that which was once the by-word of Pagans, the instrument of scorn and of suffering, has become the symbol of Hope and of Glory, of Joy, and of Eternal Felicity; and its material expression has altered proportionately. {xxxvi} In that the arms frequently end in leaves and flowers, they signify the flourishing and continual increase of that Church which was planted on Mount Calvary. The Crown of Thorns is sometimes wreathed around them: but so, that it should rather resemble a Crown of Glory. The instruments of the Passion are, as every one knows, of the most ordinary occurrence. The commonest of these are—the Cross, the Crown of Thorns, the Spear, the Scourge, the Nails, and the Sponge on the pole. But in the Suffolk and Somersetshire churches many others are added. Their position is various: sometimes, as in Stogumber, Somersetshire, they appear amidst the foliage of a perpendicular capital: sometimes, as in the Suffolk churches, they are found in the open seats: often in bosses, often in brasses, often in stained glass; and sometimes the angel that supports a bracket holds them portrayed on a shield. The Five Wounds are also often found. These are represented by a heart, between two hands and two feet, each pierced; or by a heart pierced with five wounds, as in a brass at King's College chapel, Cambridge. The instruments of the Passion may sometimes be seen amongst the volutes of the stem of the churchyard cross: examples occur at Belleville, near Havre, in Normandy, and Santa Cruz, in Madeira.
Again, the very position of our blessed Saviour on the Cross as represented in the great rood and in stained glass, is not without a meaning. In modern paintings, the arms are high above the head, the whole weight of the body seeming to rest upon them. And this, besides its literal truth, gives occasion to that miserable display of anatomical knowledge in which such pictures so much abound. The Catholic representation pictures the arms as extended horizontally: thereby signifying how the Saviour, when extended on the Cross, embraced the {lxxxvii} whole world.[Footnote 56]Thus, as it ever ought to be, is physical sacrificed to moral truth. Perhaps for a similar reason S. Longinus is represented as piercing the Right Side, instead of the Left: and in a representation of the Five Wounds, it is the right side of the breast that is pierced (as in a brass at Southfleet, Kent); that being the side of the greatest strength, and thereby typifying the strength of that love wherewith our Redeemer loved us. [But this may be doubted. For it appears pretty clear that the ancient Church considered the Right Side to have been that which was really pierced. According to modern ideas, the effusion of the water was not a miracle. S. John undoubtedly considered it not only a miracle, but one of the most extraordinary which he had to relate, seeming to stop the mouth of the objector by insisting on the fact, that he himself was an eye-witness.] In some old roods, a still further departure was made from literal truth: the Saviour was represented on the Cross, as a crowned king, arrayed in royal apparel.[Footnote 57]And his figure was constantly represented as larger than that of His attendants, His Blessed Mother, and S. John, thereby signifying his immeasurable superiority over the highest of human beings.
[Footnote 56: However, in late stained glass, the modern position is sometimes found as in a Crucifixion represented in the east window of the north aisle, in Wiscombe church, Somersetshire. ][Footnote 57: To this we may add the conventional representation of Royal Saints, such as S. Edmund, wearing their kingly crowns during their passion. That such conventional symbolism isnaturalto us may be shown by alluding (without irreverence in this connection) to the way in which kings are always figured with crown and orb in popular prints: and even, as in a sign-post at Leighterton, Gloucestershire, King Charles II, hiding himself in the Royal Oak, is arrayed in all the insignia of majesty.]
Another reference to the Atonement will be found in the deviation which the line of the chancel often presents from that of the nave. It is sometimes to the north, but more frequently to the south. {lxxxviii} There are many more churches in which it occurs than those who have not examined the subject would believe: perhaps it is not too much to say that it may be noticed in a quarter of those in England. Of our cathedrals, it is most strongly marked in York and Lichfield: among the parish churches in which we have observed it, none have it so strongly as Eastbourne and Bosham, in Sussex, and S. Michael's at Coventry: in all of which the most casual glance could not but detect the peculiarity of appearance it occasions. This arrangement represents the inclination of our Saviour's Head on the Cross. In roods the Head generally inclines to the left.
Mr. Poole, after noticing the fact in York minster, seems inclined to attribute it to a desire of evading the old foundation lines of that church, which induced the builders to deviate a little from the straight line, rather than encounter the difficulty of removing this obstacle. But in the first place, however much modern church builders might bethink themselves of such an expedient, it is not at all in the character of the church architects of other days: and in the second, the explanation is applicable to York alone, one only out of many hundred churches so distinguished.