"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

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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.