Part 2

Christians of the present time have but little idea of the solemnity of the ancient worship of the Catholic church; ordained ministers were alone permitted to fill the humblest offices about the sanctuary, every object connected with the sacred rites were considered deserving of the most loving care; even in the very early ages, the vessels of the altar were usually of precious metals, and studded with jewels. The books of the holy gospels were written in golden text on purple vellum, bound in plates of silver encasing ivory diptychs, and deposited in portable shrines, like relics. Though all this should fill us with admiration, there is nothing to excite surprise, when we reflect on the very sacred nature of the Christian mysteries—no sign typical and prophetic, as under the Mosaic law, but our blessed Lord truly present and abiding in the temple in the holy sacrament of the altar,—it is by no means wonderful that the Christian worship should assume a form of solemnity formerly unknown, and we are only astounded that with the perpetuation of the doctrine the practice of external solemnity should have so lamentably become decayed in the latter times; indeed, so sacred, so awful, so mysterious is the sacrifice of the mass, that if men were seriously to reflect on what it really consists, so far from advocating mere rooms for its celebration, they would hasten to restore the reverential arrangements of Catholic antiquity, and instead of striving for front seats and first places, they would hardly feel worthy to occupy the remotest corner of the temple. The form and arrangement of the ancient churches originated from the deepest feelings of reverence; the altar, or place of sacrifice, was accessible only to those who ministered, it was enclosed by pillars and veils; the sanctuary was veiled, the choir was enclosed, and the faithful adored at a respectful distance. All this, and the custom of every succeeding century, is in utter opposition to the modern all-seeing principle, and which, if it is carried out, ends in an absurd conclusion; for if it be essential for every worshipper to see, even a _level room_ would not answer the purpose, and the floor must be raised like an amphitheatre to elevate the receding _spectators_, for unless the people be thus raised, they form a far greater barrier than any screen-work; and even at St. Peter's itself, when the Pope celebrates, there is a living screen of Swiss troops and noble guards that effectually shuts out the sight of what is going on, except to those taking part in the functions, or a favoured few, who by means of gold or interest are seated in raised loggia. If religious ceremonies are to be regarded as spectacles they should be celebrated in regular theatres, which have been expressly invented for the purpose of accommodating great assemblages of persons to hear and see well. It has been most justly said, that there is no legitimate halting-place between Catholic doctrine and positive infidelity, and I am quite certain that there is none between a church built on Christian tradition and symbolism and Covent Garden Theatre with its pit, boxes, and gallery.[3] It is only by putting the question in this forcible contrast that persons can really understand the danger of these new notions, or the lengths to which they may eventually lead; and I trust it may be the means of raising a feeling of the greatest repugnance to them in the hearts of every true Catholic.

As regards screens, I believe there are no portions of church architecture the origin and intention of which are less understood, and I have seen most absurd and contradictory arguments brought forward in their defence as well as by their assailants; they have originated from a natural as well as a symbolical intention,—it is a natural principle to enclose any portion of a building or space which is set apart from public use and access, and when such a boundary is erected round the place of sacrifice in a church, it teaches the faithful to reverence the seat of the holy mysteries, and to worship in humility.

From the earliest times the choirs and sanctuaries of the Christian churches were separated off from the rest of the building by open metal-work and dwarf marble walls, and at the present day, in those churches where the old screen-work has been destroyed by debased tastes or revolutionary violence, it has invariably been replaced by high iron railings, as indispensably necessary for the order and discipline of the church; and though these railings are meagre in effect and prison-like in appearance, they are screens to all intents and purposes, and serve like their more ornamental prototypes to exclude unauthorized persons from the sacred enclosures.

The choirs of the early Christian churches, which were all frequented by the people, were enclosed by open screens, like trellis-work, usually made of brass, and this principle has descended through all ages in churches destined for _parochial worship_ and _the use of the people_, while in cathedral, collegiate, and conventual churches, which were intended more especially for the use of ecclesiastics, the solid screens were invariable, not only across the nave but round the choir, so that the canons and religious were completely enclosed. The introduction of these close screens was coeval with the commencement of the long offices, and were positively necessary for those who were compelled to remain so many hours in choir, and who would have been unable to resist the cold if exposed to the free passage of the currents of air which prevail in these large edifices.[4]

But, like every object generated in necessity, the church soon turned them to a most edifying account, and while the great screen was adorned with the principal events of our Lord's life and passion, surmounted by the great rood, the lateral walls were carved with edifying sculptures and sacred histories, many of which still remain, as at Notre Dame, Paris, Amiens, Chartres, Auch, &c. I do not think that the theory, which some writers have advanced, of these _close_ screens being erected to increase the mystery of the celebration, and to procure greater respect for the sacrifice, is tenable; the mass is not more holy in one church or one altar than another, and it is most certain that no parochial churches, built as such, ever had close screens, but always open ones; and, indeed, we very often find altars erected outside these close screens of cathedral and conventual churches, for the benefit of the people, as will be seen by the plates given in this work, which would involve a complete contradiction in principle, supposing the high altar to be hid on symbolical grounds. The _close_ screens belong properly to the choir rather than the altar, as in many Italian churches served by religious, the clergy sat behind the screen, while the altar is partly without, so that the celebration served for both the religious and the people.

At Durham Abbey, the Jesus altar was outside of the great screen; and at St. Alban's Abbey, in the screen which traverses the nave, there are the evident marks of an altar which doubtless served for the parochial mass.

It will be seen from these remarks that close screens, as a principle, are only suitable for churches intended for cathedral chapters or conventual and collegiate bodies; and they are certainly most unsuitable for any churches to be erected in this country under existing circumstances, where the limited extent of means and number of the clergy render it necessary for all services to be available for the faithful in general, and the bishops' churches, like the original basilicæ, to be in a manner parochial.

But as regards open screens the case is widely different; they existed under the form of trellis (opere reticulato) in the oldest churches, and, in succeeding centuries not only was every chancel and choir enclosed by them, but each chapel, and even altar; they were to be found in every parochial church, either of metal, stone, or wood; in Germany, Flanders, and the North, metal was the usual material, but in England and France stone and wood, while in Italy and the South they were usually composed partly of marble and partly of metal. But their use was universal, they commenced many centuries _before the introduction of pointed architecture_, and _they have survived its decline_; in fact, they belong to the first principles of Catholic _reverence and order_, and _not to any particular style_, though, like everything else connected with the church, they attained their greatest beauty in the mediæval period.

The church of San Michele, at Florence, contains an altar erected in the fourteenth century, in honour of a venerated picture of the Blessed Virgin; it is a most interesting example of a detached altar surrounded by a screen. Like all the Italian mediæval works, it is exquisitely beautiful in detail, and admirable in the sculptured enrichments; it is entirely surrounded by a screen, partly composed of bronze and partly of marble, divided in open panels of pointed tracery; this supports a cresting, with prickets for tapers, and at the four angles are images of angels bearing metal candlesticks of elegant design. In order to convey a more perfect idea of this beautiful and decorated altar, I have figured it among the illustrations. In Ciampini's great work, "Vetera Monimenta," are plates of some of the altars which stood in old St. Peter's Church, at Rome, enclosed by brass screens, surrounded by standards for lights; and as a proof of the extent of this traditional enclosure of altars, when Antwerp Cathedral was restored to Catholic worship, after its pillage by the Calvinists in the sixteenth century, there not only was a great marble screen and rood loft restored across the choir, but a new range of altars having been set up against the pillars of the nave, each altar was enclosed by an open brass screen about six feet high, supported on a marble base, as may be most distinctly seen in a view of the church painted at the time by Peter Neefs, still preserved at Bicton House, near Sidmouth, and from which I have made the drawing etched in this work. I consider these authorities rather important, as when this church was restored for the Catholic worship all feeling for pointed design had been superseded by Italian; but change of detail had not then produced change of sentiment, and I shall clearly show that Catholic traditions, in this respect, have survived all changes of form and ornament.

It is, therefore, these open railings, or screen-work, for which we contend as an essential characteristic of Catholic reverence in the enclosure of chancels, chapels, and altars; practically, they prevent any irreverence or intrusion in the sacred places at those times when no celebration or office is going on; and symbolically, they impress on the minds of the faithful the great sanctity of all connected with the sacrifice of the altar, and that, like the vicinity of the "burning bush," the ground itself is holy. Wherever this screen or enclosures have been removed, as in some modernized churches of Italy and France, distressing irreverence has been the consequence; and, on more than one occasion, I have seen an altar turned into a hat-stand within a few minutes after the holy sacrifice had been offered up upon it, while animals defile the frontals, and lazzaroni lounge on the steps.

These screens serve also for a most edifying purpose; while the principal one across the chancel or choir sustains the great rood, with its attendant imagery and ornaments, the lateral enclosures are surmounted by ranges of metal standards for lights, to burn on great feasts, while the mouldings and bratishings are enriched with texts and sacred devices.

The rest of this work may be considered only as a justification and proof of what I have advanced in this brief essay, viz.—1st. That open screens and enclosures of choirs and chancels have existed from the earliest known period of Christian churches down to the present century, that they form an essential part of Catholic tradition and reverence, and that no church intended for Catholic worship can be complete without them. 2nd. That their introduction belongs to no particular period or style, and that their partial disuse was not consequent on the decline of pointed architecture, but to the decay of reverence for the sacred mysteries themselves, as I have found screens of all styles and dates. 3rd. That closed screens are only now suited to conventual and collegiate churches in this country, the cathedrals being required for the worship of the people, from whom the view of the altar has never been purposely concealed. 4th. That those who oppose the revival and continuance of open screens are not only enemies of Catholic traditions and practices, but the grounds of their objections militate as strongly against every symbolic form and arrangement in ecclesiastical architecture, and, therefore, till they retract their opposition they are practically insulting the traditions of the church, impeding the restoration of reverence and solemnity, and injuring the progress of religion.

[1] The church of St. Eustache, Paris, is a striking example of a pointed church, both in plan, disposition, and proportion, carried out in Italian detail; but even much later, the churches of St. Roch and St. Sulpice, in the same city, were constructed on Catholic traditions, although all trace of the ancient detail has disappeared; they are _cruciform_, _choral_, and _absidal_, with _aisles_ and chapels, a clerestory, and vaulting supported by flying buttresses, and the latter has even two great western towers for bells. Notwithstanding their debased detail, these edifices have still the character of churches, and are adapted by their _arrangement_ for the celebration of Catholic rites.

[2] I trust to be able before long to put forth an impartial statement relative to the destruction of Catholic edifices and ornaments consequent on the change of religion in England. After the most patient investigation, I have been compelled to adopt the conclusion, that the most fearful acts of destruction and spoliation were committed by men who had not only been educated in the ancient faith, but who were contented externally to profess its doctrines. I had originally fallen into popular errors on these matters in some of my early publications, and it is but an act of justice to affix the odium of the sacrilege on those who were really guilty. I feel quite satisfied that one of the most urgent wants of the time is a real statement of the occurrences connected with the establishment of Protestantism and the loss of the ancient faith; of course, I have to treat the subject in an architectural view, but still I trust to bring forward many facts that may lead to a better understanding and more charity on both sides, for we may all exclaim, "Patres nostri pecaverunt et non sunt, _et nos iniquitates eorum portavimus_."

[3] I have been credibly informed, that an amphitheatre was deliberately proposed, a few years since, as the best form of a Catholic church for London.

[4] These enclosures were also to prevent the distraction which large bodies of people moving about the church might occasion to the ecclesiastics.

OF THE ENCLOSURE OF CHOIRS,

FROM THE EARLY AGES OF THE CHURCH DOWN TO THE PRESENT TIME.

It is most certain (writes the learned Thiers) that in the three first centuries there were churches, that is to say, places set apart for the faithful to meet in prayer and assist at the holy sacrifice; but we have no record respecting the internal arrangements of those places, which often were mere rooms in private houses, hence it is impossible to say whether any separation existed in them between the people and the clergy.

But from the time of Constantine's conversion, it is beyond doubt that the choirs were divided off from the other portion of the church by veils or screens. Eusebius describes the choir of the Church of the Apostles, erected by Constantine at Constantinople, as enclosed by screens, or trellis-work, marvellously wrought.—"Interiorem ædis partem undique in ambitum circumductam, _reticulato opere_ ex ære et auro affabre facto convestivit."

The same writer thus speaks of the choir of the Church of Tyre, built and consecrated by the Bishop Paulinus:—"Porro sanctuario hoc modo absoluto et perfecto, thronisque quibusdam in altissimo loco ad Præsidum ecclesiæ honorem collocatis, et subselliis præterea undique ordine dispositis, decore eximieque exornato, altarique undique tanquam Sancto Sanctorum in medio sanctuarii sito, ista rursus, ut a plebe et multitudine eo non posset accedi, cancellis ex ligno fabricatis circumdedit, qui adeo artificiosa solertia ad summum elaborati sunt, ut mirabile spectaculum intuentibus exhibeant."

The emperor Theodosius divides the church into three parts:—"Sacro sanctum Altare _Cancellis Clausum_, quadratum Templi oratorium murorum ambitu circumseptum, et locum residuum usque ad ecclesiæ fores exteriores." And St. Paulinus, Bishop of Nola, describes three doors in the screens of the Church of St. Felix.

Trinaque Cancellis currentibus ostia pandunt.

Among the decrees of the Second Council of Tours, in 557, it is ordered that lay persons are not to enter the chancel which is divided off by screens, except to receive the holy communion:—"Ut Laici secus altare, quo sancta mysteria celebrantur, inter Clericos, tam ad vigilias, quam ad Missas, stare penitus non præsumant; sed pars illa _quæ a Cancellis versus Altare dividitur_, Choris tantum psallentium pateat Clericorum. Ad orandum vero et communicandum laicis et feminis, sicut mos est, pateant Sancta Sanctorum."

St. Germanus, patriarch of Constantinople, thus explains the intention and meaning of the choir screens:—"Cancelli locum orationis designant, quojusque extrinsecus populus accedit. Intrinsecus autem sunt Sancta Sanctorum solis Sacerdotibus pervia. Sunt autem revera ad piam memoriam _Cancelli ænei_,[5] nequis simpliciter et temere ingrediatur."

The space enclosed by these screens in those churches where the aisles extended round the choir was entered by three double gates, those to the west, at the lower end of the choir, were called "the holy doors," the others were placed between the choir and the sanctuary, on the epistle and gospel sides. But in smaller churches, where the chancel alone forms the eastern extremity, there was only one pair of gates, or holy doors, at the west, and this most ancient arrangement has continued down to the present day, even in churches that have been fitted up with modern iron railings.

From the authorities above quoted, which are some cited by Father Thiers, in his treatise, Sur le Cloture des Chœurs, it will be seen that open screens existed from the earliest erection of churches, and that they were composed of wood or metal, most frequently brass. This style of enclosure prevailed universally in all classes of churches till the end of the twelfth century, when, in the cathedral and collegiate churches, they were altered into solid walls, in the manner and for the reasons before described in the introduction to this work.

In the "Constitutions" of the great St. Charles Borromeo, which were of course subsequent to the Council of Trent, are the following interesting decrees relative to the enclosure of altars:—

OF THE CHOIR.

The place of the choir (since it ought to be by the high altar, whether it surround it from before, as the ancient custom was, or it be behind, because either the site of the church, or the position of the altar, or the custom of the place so require) being separated from the space occupied by the people (as the ancient structures and the nature of the discipline show) and surrounded by screens, ought to extend so far, both in length and breadth, where the space of the site allows of it (even to the form of a semicircle, or some other shape, according to the character of the church or chapel, in the judgment of the architect), as to correspond fitly in capaciousness, as well as in becoming adornment, to the dignity of the church, and the number of the clergy.

OF THE HIGH ALTAR.

The high altar ought to be so placed as that there shall be between the lowest step to it and _the screen-work by which it is, or is to be, fenced_, a space of eight cubits, and even more where possible, and the size of the church requires it for its proper adornment.

OF THE JUBÉ, OR ROOD LOFT.

It was the custom of the primitive church, and long afterwards, to sing the Epistle and Gospel from two stone pulpits placed at the lower end of the choir, from whence they could be conveniently heard by the people; and from this reason they were termed "ambones." Of these, many examples are remaining in the ancient basilicas, especially at San Lorenzo, San Clemente, &c., at Rome. These pulpits were also used for chanting the lessons of the Divine Office, and from the reader asking a blessing before commencing with, Jubé Domine Benedicite, they were commonly called "jubés," which name was retained when those pulpits were exalted into a lofty gallery reaching across the choir.

It is difficult to affix the precise period when the transverse jubés, or rood lofts, were first erected, but they must be of very great antiquity, as that of St. Sophia at Constantinople was large enough to enable the emperors to be crowned in it, a function which would require space for a considerable number of persons.

The French kings always ascended the jubé of Rheims Cathedral at their coronation; and on the accession of Charles X., as the ancient rood loft had been demolished, a temporary one was erected for the solemnity of his coronation.

These jubés were usually erected on a solid wall to the choir, and pillars with open arches towards the nave; and under them there was usually one or more altars for the parochial mass.

They were usually ascended by two staircases, either in circular turrets[6] or carried up in the thickness of the wall, which was generally the case in England.

Occasionally we find altars were erected in the lofts, under the foot of the cross; such was the case at Vienne, in the Church of St. Maurice, where the parochial altar was in the centre of the rood loft, and the Blessed Sacrament was also reserved there Sub titulo crucis.

OF THE FURNITURE OF THE ROOD LOFTS.

1.—The GREAT CRUCIFIX and ROOD, with its attendant images, stood always in the centre of the loft.

The cross was usually framed of timber, richly carved, painted, and gilt; at its extremities the four Evangelists were depicted, and frequently on the reverse the four doctors of the church. The Evangelists were sometimes represented as sitting figures in the act of writing, but more frequently under the form of the apocalyptical symbols. The extremities of the cross usually terminated in fleur-de-lys, and its sides were foliated or crocketed.

The Blessed Virgin and St. John were the almost invariable accompaniments of the crucifix, but cherubim were occasionally added. As these Roods were of great weight, their support was assisted by wrought-iron chains, depending from the great stone arch on the entrance to the choir and chancel, and the staples for these chains are frequently to be seen in churches from which the Roods have been removed.

2.—LECTERNS for the Epistle, Gospel, and Lessons. These lecterns were either moveable brass stands, like those in choirs, or marble desks, forming part of the masonry of the design: these are still left in many churches on the continent. Those at the Frairi at Venice are most beautiful, and, to come nearer home, in a rood loft at Tatershall Church is a curiously-moulded stone desk for the reader of the lessons.

3.—CORONELS and STANDARDS for LIGHTS.