CHAPTER 14
Now, you know, said Lady St. Jerome to Lothair in a hushed voice, as they sat together in the evening, you are to be quite free here; to do exactly what you like; and we shall follow our ways. If you like to have a clergyman of your own Church visit you while you are with us, pray say so without the slightest scruple. We have an excellent gentleman in this parish; he often dines here; and I am sure he would be most happy to attend you. I know that Holy Week is not wholly disregarded by some of the Anglicans.
It is the anniversary of the greatest event of time, said Lothair; and I should be sorry if any of my Church did not entirely regard it, though they may show that regard in a way different from your own.
Yes, yes, murmured Lady St. Jerome; there should be no difference between our Churches, if things were only properly understood. I would accept all who really bow to the name of Christ; they will come to the Church at last; they must. It is the atheists alone, I fear, who are now carrying every thing before them, and against whom there is no comfort, except the rock of St. Peter.
Miss Arundel crossed the room, whispered something to her aunt, and touched her forehead with her lips, and then left the apartment.
We must soon separate, I fear, said Lady St. Jerome; we have an office to-night of great moment; the Tenebrae commence to-night. You have, I think, nothing like it; but you have services throughout this week.
I am sorry to say I have not attended them, said Lothair. I did at Oxford; but I dont know how it is, but in London there seems no religion. And yet, as you sometimes say, religion is the great business of life; I sometimes begin to think the only business.
Yes, yes, said Lady St. Jerome, with much interest, if you believe that you are safe. I wish you had a clergyman near you while you are here. See Mr. Claughton, if you like; I would; and, if you do not, there is Father Coleman. I cannot convey to you how satisfactory conversation is with him on religious matters. He is the holiest of men, and yet he is a man of the world; he will not invite you into any controversies. He will speak with you only on points on which we agree. You know there are many points on which we agree?
Happily, said Lothair. And now about the office to-night: tell me about these Tenebrae. Is there any thing in the Tenebrae why I ought not to be present?
No reason whatever; not a dogma which you do not believe; not a ceremony of which you cannot approve. There are Psalms, at the end of which a light on the altar is extinguished. There is the Song of Moses, the Canticle of Zachary, the Misererewhich is the 50th Psalm you read and chant regularly in your churchthe Lords Prayer in silence; and then all is darkness and distresswhat the Church was when our Lord suffered, what the whole world is now except His Church.
If you will permit me, said Lothair, I will accompany you to the Tenebrae.
Although the chapel at Vauxe was, of course, a private chapel, it was open to the surrounding public, who eagerly availed themselves of a permission alike politic and gracious.
Nor was that remarkable. Manifold art had combined to create this exquisite temple, and to guide all its ministrations. But to-night it was not the radiant altar and the splendor of stately priests, the processions and the incense, the divine choir and the celestial harmonies resounding lingering in arched roofs, that attracted many a neighbor. The altar was desolate, the choir was dumb; and while the services proceeded in hushed tones of subdued sorrow, and sometimes even of suppressed anguish, gradually, with each psalm and canticle, a light of the altar was extinguished, till at length the Miserere was muttered, and all became darkness. A sound as of a distant and rising wind was heard, and a crash, as it were the fall of trees in a storm. The earth is covered with darkness, and the veil of the temple is rent. But just at this moment of extreme woe, when all human voices are silent, and when it is forbidden even to breathe Amenwhen every thing is symbolical of the confusion and despair of the Church at the loss of her expiring Lorda priest brings forth a concealed light of silvery flame from a corner of the altar. This is the light of the world, and announced the resurrection, and then all rise up and depart in silence.
As Lothair rose, Miss Arundel passed him with streaming eyes.
There is nothing in this holy office, said Father Coleman to Lothair, to which every real Christian might not give his assent.
Nothing, said Lothair, with great decision.
CHAPTER 15
There were Tenebrae on the following days, Maundy Thursday and Good Friday, and Lothair was present on both occasions.
There is also a great office on Friday, said Father Coleman to Lothair, which perhaps you would not like to attendthe mass of the pre-sanctified. We bring back the blessed sacrament to the desolate altar, and unveil the cross. It is one of our highest ceremonies, the adoration of the cross, which the Protestants persist in calling idolatry, though I presume they will give us leave to know the meaning of our own words and actions, and hope they will believe us when we tell them that our genuflexions and kissing of the cross are no more than exterior expressions of that love which we bear in our hearts to Jesus crucified; and that the words adoration and adore, as applied to the cross, only signify that respect and veneration due to things immediately relating to God and His service.
I see no idolatry in it, said Lothair, musingly.
No impartial person could, rejoined Father Coleman; but unfortunately all these prejudices were imbibed when the world was not so well informed as at present. A good deal of mischief has been done, too, by the Protestant versions of the Holy Scriptures; made in a hurry, and by men imperfectly acquainted with the Eastern tongues, and quite ignorant of Eastern manners. All the accumulated research and investigation of modern times have only illustrated and justified the offices of the Church.
That is very interesting, said Lothair.
Now, this question of idolatry, said Father Coleman, that is a fertile subject of misconception. The house of Israel was raised up to destroy idolatry because idolatry thou meant dark images of Moloch opening their arms by machinery, and flinging the beauteous first-born of the land into their huge forms, which were furnaces of fire; or Ashtaroth, throned in moonlit groves, and surrounded by orgies of ineffable demoralization. It required the declared will of God to redeem man from such fatal iniquity, which would have sapped the human race. But to confound such deeds with the commemoration of Gods saints, who are only pictured because their lives are perpetual incentives to purity and holiness, and to declare that the Queen of Heaven and the Mother of God should be to human feeling only as a sister of charity or a gleaner in the fields, is to abuse reason and to outrage the heart.
We live in dark times, said Lothair, with an air of distress.
Not darker than before the deluge, exclaimed Father Coleman; not darker than before the nativity; not darker even than when the saints became martyrs. There is a Pharos in the world, and, its light will never be extinguished, however black the clouds and wild the waves. Man is on his trial now, not the Church; but in the service of the Church his highest energies may be developed, and his noblest qualities proved.
Lothair seemed plunged in thought, and Father Coleman glided away as Lady St. Jerome entered the gallery, shawled and bonneted, accompanied by another priest, Monsignore Catesby.