"I must just go up for a minute to see poor Matthew. I hear he is not quite so well," said the Vicar, as he parted from his companion, and entered the little door that led up to the old sexton's chamber.
"My dear friend," said the Vicar, taking the old man's trembling hand, "I see you are still very weak; but I trust you are not suffering much?"
"Weak, very, sir; but, thank God, no pain. I feel, however, that the end can't be very far off. You must look out for another sexton, sir, for old Matthew's work is nearly over."
"His will be done," said the Vicar; and the old man breathed a solemn "Amen," which seemed spoken for no earthly ears.
"I've been thinking," at length said Matthew, "that it's ten years since you and I, sir, and Mr. Acres, met at the old lych gate in that terrible storm. I remember I said then that it wouldn't be long before some younger ones would have to carry me through the gate, but God has spared me these ten years more, and now I shall need none to bear me through the gate; for here I am—thanks to your kindness, sir—already within the gate, and even within the House of God itself."
"Yes; and so when God calls you to Himself, He will but take you from one temple to another—from the courts of His House here, to live for ever in His heavenly mansions. 'Those that be planted in the House of the Lord shall flourish in the courts of our God[206].'"
"If you please, sir, I should like to be buried beside little Lizzie Daniels. 'Tis long ago now since I made that little grave, and I fear the flower-bed is a good deal overgrown with grass, for I have been too poorly to look after it as I used to; but I think you'll know it, sir. She helped in her own quiet, simple way to teach an old man the way to Heaven; and I have never forgotten her lessons. How often she used to talk about this day—Ascension Day! She once said to me, sir, that you had told her we ought to remember this day throughout the year, and to try and lead an Ascension life, and let our thoughts and desires dwell as much as possible where our Saviour has gone before. I have tried to do so—God forgive me, for I have often failed!"
He then drew the Vicar nearer to him, and whispered in his ear, "Be good to dear little Harry, sir, when I'm gone. He loves me so, I fear 'twill break his heart."
The "parson's bell," as it was called, was now ringing, so the Vicar, having promised that his wishes should be fully carried out, was compelled to hasten into the church. He first laid his hand on the noble brow of the good old man, and pronounced the blessing of Heaven upon him, and then bade him farewell, adding, "I hope, my dear friend, we may be permitted to meet again in this earthly house of God; but if not, my heart-deep hope and prayer is, that we may meet in His house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens[207]."
The little window that looked into the church from the sexton's chamber was opened, and none listened more earnestly to the festive service, and to the Vicar's sermon, on that Ascension Day than did old Matthew Hutchinson.
Although it was a common practice with the Vicar on festivals not to preach from any particular passage of Holy Scripture, but simply to make the festival itself the subject of his discourse, yet on this occasion he selected these words as his text: "The patterns of things in the heavens[208]." He showed how that all this world of ours, in which so much that is beautiful and lovely has survived the fall, is full of patterns, or symbols, or types of things in that Heaven to which Christ has ascended; how that the whole Bible abounds with the most vivid symbolism and the most graphic imagery representative of the glories of that Heavenly kingdom; and then, looking round the beautiful church, now so richly adorned with its festive decorations, he explained how the earthly building, in its several parts, possessed a thousand patterns of those heavenly things which make up the spiritual fabric of the Church of Christ. "When we regard the material fabric of the Christian Church," he said, "as a type of the spiritual house, ever rising higher and higher in honour of its Divine Founder, of which the saints on earth and the saints in Heaven are the living stones, we are arraying the noblest work of man with its grandest and most exalted dignity. 'Ye are built upon the foundations of the Apostles and Prophets,' writes St. Paul to the Church of Ephesus, 'Jesus Christ Himself being the chief corner stone; in whom all the building fitly framed together groweth unto an holy temple in the Lord: in whom ye also are builded together for an habitation of God through the Spirit[209].' Here, in the symbol of the foundation stones of the material structure, we have represented to us, as it were, at one view, all those heavenly graces and blessings which from the day of Pentecost down to this time have flowed to God's people through the visible ministry and appointed ordinances of the Christian Church. Then, under the figure of the corner stone—the key stone of the edifice—we have gathered up all those old prophecies and types which pointed on forward, through the sufferings and death of the Saviour, up to the time when, having established His Church in the world, He should be Himself the heavenly life of its living members. Long had it been 'contained in the Scriptures: Behold, I lay in Zion a chief corner stone, elect, precious; and he that believeth on Him shall not be confounded[210],' and in the fulness of time 'the stone which the builders refused became the head stone of the corner[211].'
"And next see, my friends, how the figure is carried out by the two Apostles, St. Paul and St. Peter, so as to embrace all the faithful members of Christ's Church. They are represented by St. Paul as 'the whole building fitly framed together[212],' and by St. Peter, as the living stones which compose this living temple—'Ye also as lively stones are built up a spiritual house[213].' And this figure of a living temple is thus constantly employed by the sacred writers: 'Know ye not that your bodies are the Temple of God?' writes St. Paul to the Corinthian Church; and, again, 'Ye are the Temple of the living God[214].' St. Jude is following out the same idea when he exhorts Christians to build up themselves in their most holy faith."
The Vicar ended his sermon with an earnest, practical application of the subject. "Let me entreat you, my dear friends, often to suffer the solemn thoughts which this sacred symbol suggests to dwell on your minds: 'The temple of the Lord is holy, which temple ye are.' Holy Prophets and Holy Apostles, and confessors, and martyrs, are the foundation of the sacred building; the Holy Jesus is the corner stone, in whom ye—the living stones—must be fitly framed together. Mark, my friends, there must be no schism, no division, no rent or fissure, that ye may be a spiritual house perfect in all its parts, and pure in all its adornments. Oh, then, cherish that heavenly life within you, which alone can keep the building compact and firm! Be fruitful in good works. Remember faith without works is not living, but dead[215]. 'Put on charity, which is the bond of perfectness[216],' and will be the best evidence to God and man, and to your own souls, that you possess a living faith; that you are, indeed, living stones in a living temple. Be sure the cement that must unite the living stones of the spiritual house is brotherly love and fervent charity. Without these, the house will be divided against itself; its walls will be 'daubed with untempered mortar[217],' and, instead of living stones, there will be but the dead, outlying blocks of a ruined house. 'Except the Lord build the house, their labour is but lost that build it[218].'
"Be it yours, then, 'by patient continuance in well doing, to seek for glory and immortality[219]' in that 'house eternal in the heavens, whose Builder and Maker is God.' Learn to see in the whole earth, and air, and sky—with their countless beauties and wondrous harmonies—reflections of the glories of Heaven, and promises of the coming bliss of eternity. Learn to read lessons of wisdom and religion from the many instructive patterns, and symbols, and emblems in nature, and in art, with which you are ever surrounded. Thus go on, day by day, advancing nearer to your mansion in Heaven. Thus, in these earthly temples of Jehovah, be ever purifying your hearts, and attuning your voices to share in that glorious song of the Lamb when the sweet music of angels' harps shall vibrate on this regenerate earth, when her ten thousand choirs shall join with theirs in joyful harmony—and melt their united praises in one never-ending rapture, singing, 'Holy, holy, holy, Lord God Almighty, which was, and is, and is to come;' 'Blessing and honour, and glory and power be unto Him that sitteth upon the Throne, and unto the Lamb for ever and ever[220].'"
In the prayer for the Church militant, which followed the sermon, the Vicar paused longer than usual when he prayed God to succour and comfort those who were in sickness. All knew that he was inviting a special prayer for the old man whom all the village loved; and had they been offered for the proudest potentate, the most learned philosopher, or even the greatest philanthropist that ever lived, the prayers that went up to Heaven amid that solemn silence for him "for whom the prayers of the Church were desired," could not have been more fervid and sincere. When Mr. Ambrose proceeded with the prayer, a slight stir in the porch chamber was heard by those near at hand, but it was little noticed.
At the conclusion of the service Mr. Acres met the Vicar in the vestry.
"I should like," said he, "to go with you to see our poor old friend once more."
"It will probably be the last time," replied the Vicar, "for he was evidently sinking when I saw him before service. I told little Harry to go up to him as soon as we had sung the last hymn."
Both went up together. The Vicar was not mistaken. Calm and peaceful, without a line of care or pain, there lay the placid face, and the eyes were closed in the last, long sleep. One hand lay motionless upon the bed, grasped by his little grandson, who was kneeling beside him, still robed in the snow-white surplice with which he had recently left the choir.
"Poor little fellow!" said the Vicar; "I will keep my promise to the old man. He shall not be left without a friend, though his best is gone."
But Mr. Acres saw that the little hands were white as the aged hand they clasped.
"He's with a better Friend now, my dear Vicar," said he, "than this earth can give him. We shall hear his sweet voice no more in our choir here; he has gone to join the choir of angels in a nobler temple than ours."
Old Matthew's words were true; the loving little heart was broken. The old oak had fallen, and crushed the tender sapling as it fell[221]. On the morning of Trinity Sunday, there stood under the old yew-tree of St. Catherine's churchyard, three little stone crosses side-by-side, where but one had been before.
THE END
GILBERT AND RIVINGTON, PRINTERS, ST. JOHN'S SQUARE, LONDON.
[1] In some parts of Devonshire and Cornwall, Lich-Gates are called "Trim-Trams." The origin of this word is not easy to determine; it is probably only a nickname.
[2] Anglo-Saxon, lic,—a dead body. In Germany the word leiche has doubtless the same original; it is still used to signify a corpse or funeral. The German leichengang has precisely the same meaning as our Lich-Gate.
[3] It is stated in Britton's Antiquities that there was formerly a Lych-Gate in a lane called Lych-lane in Gloucester, where the body of Edward II. rested on its way to burial in the Cathedral.
[4] A Lyke-wake dirge:—
[5] On the Lich-Gate at Bray, Berks, is the date 1448; but there are very few examples so early.
[6] The following are among the most interesting of the ancient Lich-Gates still remaining:—Beckenham, Lincolnshire; Berry-Harbor, Devonshire; Birstal, York; Bromsgrove, Worcestershire; Burnside, Westmoreland; Compton, Berkshire; Garsington, Oxon; Tawstock, Devonshire; West Wickham, Kent; and Worth, Sussex. The construction of the gate at Burnside is very curious, and Tawstock Lich-Gate possesses peculiar features of interest, which are noticed in the next Chapter. One of the finest Lich-Gates was at Arundel, in Surrey, but it has been removed, and is now the Church Porch.
[7] St. John xi. 25. The first words of the Burial Office, said by the Priest at the entrance to the Churchyard.
[8] A very interesting paper on Lich-Gates, in the "Clerical Journal," affords much information on this subject. Over the gate at Bray are "two chambers, connected with an ancient charitable bequest."
[9] This chamber was formerly called the Chapel of the Holy Rood.
[10] The custom of distributing "cakes and ale" at the churchyard on the occasion of funerals in Scotland, has been but very recently given up. Dean Ramsey, in his interesting "anecdotes," has informed us that at the burial of the Chief of a clan, many thousands would sometimes assemble, and not unfrequently the funeral would end in a disgraceful riot.
[11] In Cornwall the now common practice of placing a wreath of white flowers on the coffin is a very ancient and still prevailing usage.
[12] Consecrated Bishop of Exeter A.D. 1598.
[13] These crosses were erected at the following places:—Lincoln, Northampton, Dunstable, St. Alban's, Waltham, Stratford, Cheapside, Blackfriars, and Charing; those at Waltham and Northampton alone remain. The statue of King Charles now stands where the Charing ("Chère Reine") Cross formerly stood.
[14] In a churchyard in Oxfordshire, a large altar-tomb, surrounded by iron railings, occupying a space of ground in which at least thirty persons might be buried, covers the grave of an infant of three months.
The erection of these masses of stone without restraint would make our churchyards only the burial-places of the rich, and would soon entirely exclude the poor from a place in them; whereas the poor have an equal claim with the rich to be buried there, and when buried, the same title to respect and protection.
[15] The urns which are placed upon so many tombs in our cemeteries and churchyards, unless they have reference to the heathen custom of burning the dead, and placing the ashes in funeral urns, can have no meaning at all. We moreover not unfrequently see a gilded flame issuing from these urns, and here of course the reference is most clearly marked. The Christian custom of burying the dead, which we practise in imitation of the entombment of Christ, dates from the earliest history of man; and as well from the Old as the New Testament we learn that it has ever been followed by those who professed to obey the Divine will. The first grave of which we have any account was the grave of Sarah, Abraham's wife (Gen. xxiii. 19), and the first grave-stone was that over the burial-place of Rachel, Jacob's wife (Gen. xlix. 31).
[16] There are comparatively but few churchyard grave-stones more than 250 years old, and probably there are very few of an earlier date but have engraved upon them the sign of the Cross. There are two very ancient grave-stones of this character, having also heads carved upon them, in the churchyard of Silchester. It is likely that the old churchyard crosses were often mortuary memorials. Probably there is hardly an old churchyard but has, at some time, been adorned with its churchyard cross; in most cases, some remains of this most appropriate and beautiful ornament still exist, and doubtless is often older than the churchyard as a place of Christian burial. In many places this cross has been lately restored to its proper place, near to the Lich-Gate. "Let a handsome churchyard cross be erected in every churchyard."—Institutions of the Bishop of Winchester, A.D. 1229.
[17] The interesting custom of placing natural flowers and wreaths upon graves, is in every respect preferable to that which we see practised in Continental burial-grounds, where the graves are often covered with immortelles, vases of gaudy artificial flowers, images, &c. We have seen as many as fifty wreaths of artificial flowers and tinselled paper, in every stage of decomposition, over one grave in the cemetery of Père la Chaise, in Paris. In Wales it is a more general practice than in England, to adorn the graves with fresh flowers on Easter Day.
[18] This story is true of a parish in Monmouthshire.
[19] It is comparatively seldom that any other than the funerals of the poor take place on Sunday, and the reason commonly assigned is—that it is the only day on which their friends can attend. In one, at least, of the large metropolitan cemeteries, exclusively used as a burial-place for the rich, no funerals ever take place on a Sunday.
[20] Let us hope that the time is near when this objectionable and unsightly appendage will be banished from our funeral processions. The late Mr. Charles Dickens, in his will, forbad the wearing of hat-bands at his funeral.
[21] "In several parts of the north of England, when a funeral takes place, a basin full of sprigs of boxwood is placed at the door of the house from which the coffin is taken up, and each person who attends the funeral ordinarily takes a sprig of the boxwood and throws it into the grave of the deceased."—Wordsworth (Notes, Excursion, p. 87).
[22] Great care was taken by the medieval architects to make the porches of their churches as beautiful as possible. During some periods, especially the Norman, they seem to have bestowed more labour upon them than upon any other portion of the building. Both externally and internally they were richly decorated, and often abounded in emblematic tracery.
[23] "The custom formerly was for the couple, who were to enter upon this holy state, to be placed at the church door, where the priest was used to join their hands, and perform the greater part of the matrimonial office. It was here the husband endowed his wife with the dowry before contracted for."—Wheatley. In a few church porches there are, or have been, galleries, which seem to have been intended to accommodate a choir for these and other festive occasions.
[24] "The porch of the church was anciently used for the performance of several religious ceremonies appertaining to Baptism, Matrimony, and the solemn commemoration of Christ's Passion in Holy Week," &c.—Brandon's Gothic Architecture. The Office for the Churching of Women also used to be said at the church porch.
[25] As our Commination Service declares, persons who stood convicted of notorious sins were formerly put to open penance. The punishment frequently inflicted was—that they should stand at the church door, clothed in a white sheet, and holding a candle in each hand, during the assembling and departure of the congregation on a Sunday morning. The old parish clerk of Walton-on-Thames, Surrey, remembers, when a boy, seeing a Jew perform this penance in Walton church.
[26] "Formerly persons used to assemble in the church porch for civil purposes."—Brandon.
[27] "At a very early period, persons of rank or of eminent piety were allowed to be buried in the porch. Subsequently, interments were permitted within the church, but by the Canons of King Edgar it was ordered that this privilege should be granted to none but good and religious men."—Parker's Glossary.
[28] The parvise is to be found over church porches in all parts of England. It is more common in early English than in Norman architecture, and very frequently to be found in churches of the Decorated and Perpendicular periods. Probably the largest parvise in England is at Bishop's-Cleeve, near Cheltenham. There are interesting specimens at Bridport, Bishop's Auckland, Ampthill, Finedon, Cirencester, Grantham, Martley, Fotheringay, Sherborne, St. Mary Redcliffe, Bristol, Stanwick, Outwell, and St. Peter's-in-the-East, Oxford. In a few instances there are two parvises, one over the north and one over the south porch, as at Wellingborough. In some cases, as at Martley, Worcestershire, the upper moulding of the original Norman doorway has been concealed by the parvise of later architecture.
[29] "The name was formerly given to a favourite apartment, as at Leckingfield, Yorkshire. 'A little studying chamber, caullid paradise.' (Leland's Itinerary.)"—Glossary of Architecture.
[30] The room may have been the residence of one or more of the ordinary priests of the church, or perhaps only a study for them (see previous note), or it may have been occupied by an anchorite or hermit, or by a chantry priest. Rooms for these several purposes are also not unfrequently to be found over the vestry, as at Cropredy, near Banbury, and at Staindrop, Durham.
[31] Fire-places are of frequent occurrence in these chambers; many of them are coeval with the porch, but others appear to have been erected at a later date.
[32] At Hawkhurst, Kent, the porch-chamber is called the treasury. At St. Mary Redcliffe, Bristol, the room over the grand north porch, in which are the remains of the chests in which Chatterton professed to find the manuscripts attributed to Rowley, was at one time known as the treasury house.
[33] "The chamber over the porch was generally used for the keeping of books and records belonging to the church. Such an appendage was added to many churches in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries; and some of these old libraries still remain with their books fastened to shelves or desks by small chains."—Brandon's Gothic Architecture.
Over the porch at Finedon (of which we give an engraving) is a parvise in which is contained a valuable library of about 1000 volumes, placed there by Sir John English Dolben, Bart., A.D. 1788. At St. Peter's-in-the-East, Oxford, and many other places, are similar libraries.
[34] These were probably small chantries. It is comparatively seldom that any vestige of the altar remains; but the credence and piscina—certain proofs of the previous existence of the altar—are very commonly found.
[35] "The custom of teaching children in the porch is of very early origin; it is distinctly mentioned by Matthew Paris in the time of Henry III."—Glossary of Architecture.
After the reigns of Henry VIII. and Edward VI., in which reigns all chantries were suppressed, the children were promoted from the porch to the parvise.
[36] "Above the groining of the porch is a parvise, accessible by a turret-stair, having two Norman window-openings, unglazed, and a straight-gabled niche between them on the outside. In former days this chamber was constantly inhabited by one of the sextons, who acted as a watchman, but since the restoration of the church it has been disused."—Harston's Handbook of Sherborne Abbey.
In the church accounts of St. Peter's-in-the-East, Oxford, A.D. 1488, there is a charge for a "key to clerk's chamber." This no doubt referred to the parvise.
[37] As, a few years ago, at Headcorn in Kent.
[38] There was frequently, but not always, a window or opening from the room into the church; and it would seem that it was so placed to enable the occupant of the room to keep a watchful eye over the interior of the church, and not for any devotional exercise connected with the altar, as we never find this window directed obliquely to wards the altar, as is commonly the case with windows opening from the vestry, or chamber above the vestry, into the church.
[39] Many porches seem originally not to have had doors, but marks exist which indicate that barriers to keep out cattle were used.
[40] It is composed of lamp-black, bees'-wax, and tallow, and is commonly used by shoemakers to give a black polish to the heels of boots.
[41] These superstitions existed a few years since in connexion with an old incised slab in the chancel of Christ Church, Caerleon.
[42] "In the year 1657, the adherents of a Preacher of the name of Cam obtained the grant of the chancel of the Holy Trinity Church, Hull, from the council of state under the Protectorate, and whilst the mob without were burning the surplice and the Prayer Book, those within were tearing the brasses from the grave-stones."—History of Kingston-upon-Hull.
s. d.
"1644, April 8th, paid to Master Dowson, that came with
the troopers to our church, about the taking down of
images and brasses off stones 6 0
"1644, paid, that day, to others, for taking up the
brasses of grave-stones before the Officer Dowson came 1 0
—Churchwarden's accounts; Walberswich, Suffolk.
"This William Dowing (Dowson), it appears, kept a journal of his ecclesiastical exploits. With reference to the Church of St. Edward's, Cambridge, he says,—
"'1643, Jan. 1, Edward's Parish, we digged up the steps, and broke down 40 pictures, and took off ten superstitious inscriptions.'
"Mr. Cole, in his MSS., observes,—
"'From this last entry we may clearly see to whom we are obliged for the dismantling of almost all the grave-stones that had brasses on them, both in town and country; a sacrilegious, sanctified rascal, that was afraid, or too proud, to call it St. Edward's Church, but not ashamed to rob the dead of their honours, and the church of its ornaments.—W. C.'"—Burn's Parish Registers.
[43] The very interesting brasses in Chartham Church, Kent, were found a few years since as here described, by the present rector, and replaced by him on the chancel pavement.
[44] "Manual of Monumental Brasses," vol. i. p. 34.
[45] "If any one will lay the portrait of Lord Bristol (in Mr. Gage Rokewode's Thingoe Hundred) by the side of the sepulchral brass of the Abbess of Elstow (from whom he is collaterally descended) figured in Fisher's Bedfordshire Antiquities, he cannot but be struck by the strong likeness between the two faces. This is valuable evidence on the disputed point whether portraits were attempted in sepulchral brasses."—Notes and Queries.
[47] See page 85. [The engravings of sepulchral brasses and of stained glass windows are kindly supplied by the Editor of the Penny Post.]
[49] Hamlet, Act i. Sc. 3.
[50] Monumental slabs of this description are most common on the pavement of churches in the midland counties.
[51] This is the case in Ely Cathedral.
[52] At Bawsey, Lynn; Droitwich; Great Malvern; and recently near Smithfield, London, when excavating for the subterranean railway.
[53] Thus translated in the Gentleman's Magazine for October, 1833:—
| "Think, man, thy life | But that thou keepest | |
| May not ever endure, | Unto thy executor's care, | |
| That thou dost thyself | If ever it avail thee | |
| Of that thou art sure; | It is but chance." |
[54] "Anno 1210. Let the Abbot of Beaubec (in Normandy), who has for a long time allowed his monk to construct, for persons who do not belong to the order, pavements, which exhibit levity and curiosity, be in slight penance for three days, the last of them on bread and water; and let the monk be recalled before the feast of All Saints, and never again be lent, excepting to persons of our order, with whom let him not presume to construct pavements which do not extend the dignity of the order."—Martini's Thesaurus Anecdotorum.—Extracted from Oldham's "Irish Pavement Tiles."
[55] Specially in Normandy, where they are occasionally found under trefoil canopies, resembling our sepulchral brasses.
[56] Some excellent coloured engravings for cottage walls, of a large size, have been published by Messrs. Remington, under the direction of the Rev. J. W. Burgon, of Oriel College, Oxford. Others, both large and small, suitable for this purpose, are published by the Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, and also by several other publishers.
[57] These wall paintings exist (or did till recently) on the outside of a church at High Wycombe. They are curious, and very grotesque; no doubt, however, in their day they have served a good and useful purpose.
[58] These mural paintings still remain, as here described, on the north wall of the chancel of Chalgrove Church, Oxon. There are also on the east and south walls of the chancel of the same church, many other paintings possessing great interest.
[59] A very interesting mural painting, of which the above is a copy, has been lately discovered in a recess in the north wall of the nave of Bedfont Church. The colour is exceedingly rich and well preserved. The painting measures 4 ft. 6 in. by 4 ft., and is supposed to be of the thirteenth century. It represents the Last Judgment. Our Lord is sitting on His Throne, showing the five wounds. On the right hand is an angel showing the Cross, on the left an angel with a spear. Four nails are represented near the head of our Lord. In the lower part of the painting are two angels holding trumpets, and below them three persons rising out of the tomb.
It is probable that the interior of almost every old church in the country has at some time been decorated with wall-paintings—very many of them have been brought to light in recent works of church restoration. The favourite subjects were representations of Heaven and Hell, and of the Day of Judgment. In many cathedrals and some parish churches the Dance of Death was painted on the walls. This was one of the most popular religious plays about four centuries ago.