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exceeded all that the imagination had conjured up.

A few years later, and the authorities of the cathedral began to look coldly upon the meeting, and to disregard the sentimental impressions which might be awakened by its continuance. Perhaps by the time these words are in print the fiat may have gone forth, and the meeting of the Charity Children of St. Paul's will have become a matter of history. Whether there is any ground for regret in this matter we may not pause to inquire.

The present desire seems to be to make the services at St. Paul's altogether disconnected with the traditions of the past, and so to conduct them that they may form a pattern for the present and for the future. Men have grown tolerant, if not apathetic, with regard to observances and the omission of customs which would in former days have been considered as an infringement of certain privileges real or supposed.

engaged for the occasion. Purcell's "Te Deum was at first given at these meetings, until the "Dettingen Te Deum" of Handel was selected to occupy the place in the service which the music of Purcell had filled for a period of thirty-three years. The performance of the "Dettingen Te Deum" grew to be one of the institutions of the year's music. It was first given in St. Paul's in the year 1744, a few months after the first performance at the Chapel Royal, St. James's, and for more than one hundred years was annually performed in the cathedral. So strong was its hold over the popular mind that, even after the band ceased to assist at the annual service, the "Te Deum" was given in deference to a generally expressed wish, the accompaniments being played upon the organ with the addition of trumpets and drums. For many years the drums which were used at St. Paul's were those which were taken from the enemy at the battle of Dettingen. When, for the purposes of the special evening Few people who know St. Paul's Caservices, the large organ built for the thedral of the present day, and who judge Panoptican, an exhibition and establish- from the apparent solidity of the order ment intended to rival the Polytechnic, and regularity with which the services are was placed upon an ugly and incongruous conducted, and the provision made for screen over the south porch, the choir the accommodation of all who attend the gallery was built under this organ. This ministrations, would ever imagine that gallery being used every Sunday, was not this decency and discipline they observe moved as was the other scaffolding and admire are only matters of recent inerected for the charity children. The troduction. At no very distant date the first of these interesting festivals was arrangements were altogether different. held in 1704, in the Church of St. An- Without in this place imputing carelessdrew's, Holborn; the next year the chil-ness or apathy to the ruling spirits of the dren assembled at St. Sepulchre's, where time past, or blaming them for not having they continued to meet until the year effected desired reforms sooner, it must 1738; after this the annual service took be said that they accepted or refrained place at Christ Church, Newgate Street, from interfering with a state of things for sixty-three years. In 1801 the meet- which was not at all creditable to a metroing took place in St. Paul's Cathedral, politan cathedral. They allowed many and, with the exception of a lapse of one things to go on without seeking to make year in 1860, when the cathedral was great sweeping alterations, simply beunder repair, they have continued to meet cause custom warranted the use. there since. The idea of holding the time had not come for change, the minds meetings in the cathedral seems to have of the people were neither aroused to nor been suggested by the service of thanks- were they prepared to admit the necessity giving for the restoration to health of of movements which would then have George III. in 1789, on which occasion seemed revolutionary. They had not yet the children took part in the service. realized the fact that the cathedrals were Joseph Haydn, when on a visit to London, their own property, that the officials were was present at one of the services, and simply trustees, and that they had a right has recorded in his memorandum-book, to enjoy that privilege which seemed to preserved in the library of the Conservatoire at Vienna, his impressions on that occasion. Fétis, the famous Belgian critic, was deeply affected by the unison singing of the children, and Berlioz, the French composer, when he heard the service in 1851, declared that the reality

The

be permitted on sufferance and with annoying restrictions. Only one-third of a century ago St. Paul's Cathedral was seriously regarded by a large section of the public as the property of the officials. This opinion was in some degree confirmed by the fact that no one was

opened at St. Paul's renders it necessary
that all the music employed should be
massive and full, such as would impress
the hearer with an idea of the dignity of
the service as now conducted. The deli-
cacies of the old anthems and services
would perhaps not be appreciated by the
numbers which now flock to the church,
even if voices could be found to interpret
them. It is therefore, perhaps, over-sen-
timental to regret the past days when the
service was held in the choir and took
the form of what is now contemptuously
styled "chamber worship " in the cathe-
dral. The effect of the service in the
restricted area was solemn, and appealed
to men's hearts most closely; but it was
inconsistent with the growing spirit of
the times- a preference for large pro- e

portions.

permitted to enter the building without the present day having been trained to payment, excepting during the time of do scarcely anything else than to take service, which was shortened as much as part in a chorus. The increased area possible. The congregation was literally turned out at the conclusion by the vergers, except those who submitted to pay the customary twopence for permission to remain, which tax was collected at the north door, at that time the only used entrance to the cathedral, all the others being closed to the public. A passage from this north door to the choir was fortified by barriers, beyond which none were allowed to stray without payment. No attempt was made to warm the church, and pools of condensed vapor flowed at the bases of the pillars and walls. In winter time the church was lighted by means of candles, the greater number of which were in the choir, the outside approaches being illuminated by means of two or three wax-lights in the brass chandeliers, which even in the present day remain suspended from the roof. The service was held in the choir, which was then enclosed, the organ being placed on the screen which now stands by the north door. Outside the choir were the statues of Nelson and Cornwallis, on the site occupied by which the present choir stalls are built. The pulpit was in the choir near the east end; the seats for the chor isters about half-way down the choir. As many of the six vicars-choral who chose to attend, either in person or by deputy, sat in the stalls with the minor canons. The members of the choir were not remarkable for regularity of attendance. There was always a full complement of the boys, whose number was twelve. The minor canons not only intoned the service in their turns, but also sang in the canticles and anthems. Skill in music was one of the qualifications for which they were selected to fill their offices.

Then were frequently heard the fervent and devotional musical thoughts set by the old writers in harmony with their own interpretation of the divine words they had chosen the touching and expressive music set to sacred words by such writers, who were prompted to do their work by true religious feeling: such men were Purcell, Humphries, Weldon, Wise, Clarke, Greene, Boyce, Battishill, Attwood, and Goss most, if not all, of which are now banished from the Church, less perhaps for their "unfitness" for use in the service on account of their containing solos or verses, than because the old traditional method of performing them has died out, vocalists in cathedrals of

The first attempt to utilize the whole area of the cathedral for the purposes of congregational services was made shortly after the funeral of the Duke of Wellington in 1852.

Before that time no adequate means of lighting the building for evening services existed. The great circle of gas jets beneath the whispering gallery, "the graceful coronal of light which encircles the dome," was put up for the occasion alluded to, and this, with additional semicircles of lights round what are called the quarter domes, helped to illuminate the vast area, and to make it available for the purposes of attracting large congregations. A series of Advent services was commenced, at which a more elaborate musical service was attempted than anything which had been done, excepting upon such red-letter days as the festivals of the Sons of the Clergy, the gathering of the Charity Children, the annual service in aid of the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel, and such rare occasions as the visits of the royal family, to offer up "thanksgivings for late mercies vouchsafed to them."

Most foreigners, when they pay a visit to London, like to see St. Paul's and note the simple, yet magnificent, proportions of its structure. Those that were musical until lately always declined to wait for the service, as they had heard that the music was always badly performed. Now the musical and intelligent foreigner endeavors to include the hour of service in the period of his visit, for the performance is equal with, if not superior to, the

best that can be heard on the Continent | tion of the bishops of Sierra Leone and at any place and at any time during the the Mauritius. It may be mentioned that celebration of divine service. It is only the number of the children of the choir is within the last few years that this has augmented to about thirty. These are been the case. The character of the ser- educated and lodged in a convenient vice now is more consonant with the gen- building erected especially for their aceral pattern followed on the Continent, so commodation, and a staff of masters is that the stranger is enabled to understand engaged to teach them such things as are and to follow the musical portion of the needful for them to know. service better than heretofore. The num- Every possible encouragement is given ber of the services has been increased, to the members of the cathedral having so that now there are almost as many no statutable position. The old corporaeach day as in the old building. Various tions of the church, the minor canons, societies and guilds hold their annual the vicars-choral, the vergers, bellringers, festivals in the cathedral, and the ordi- and others, are being gradually weakened, nary course of the service has been probably with a view to their ultimate altered, if not improved. Among the extinction. All things are being changed. many additions, which some condemn as The anthems and services of our catheinnovations and others hail as improve-drals in former times were modelled after ments, may be mentioned several.

Thus St. Paul's has been made cosmopol itan in addition to being metropolitan.

a fashion peculiarly English, and utterly The annual performance of Bach's unlike anything employed abroad for the "Passions-Musik" is on the Tuesday in purposes of worship. In making the the week before Easter: it is sung by a alterations in the music at St. Paul's it large body of voices, accompanied by a was found necessary to shelve those band of instrumentalists, including the works by English cathedral writers which organ and a pianoforte for the recitatives. for generations had been associated with The services in commemoration of the the service of the Church, probably beopening of the cathedral, and that on the cause it may have been thought to be anniversary of the fire of London, and advisable to remove all those matters one or two other days, have long been which interfered with the desire to make discontinued. At these services, singu- the order of the service and the character larly enough, the members of the choir of the music employed therein of a kind were not expected to be present. All similar to that adopted by other Christian through Passion Week the choir was communities which Englishmen hear in silent. Now there is no lapse in the reg-foreign cities. So that, in fact, the stranularity of the services during this week. ger from afar might feel himself perfectly In addition to the special commemoration at home_upon entering the building. above mentioned, the daily choral service is celebrated, but without organ. The use of the organ is also dispensed with on each Friday during the year, except it be a saint's day or the eve of a festival. Each Thursday afternoon the service is sung by the men alone, the boys having that time for rest. During Lent and Advent the Benedicite is chanted, a practice which doubtless has some meaning. On one evening during Advent Spohr's oratorio, “The Last Judgment," is now sung by the choir to the accompaniment of the organ. A grand service is also held on St. Paul's day, January 25th, on which occasion a portion of Mendelssohn's oratorio, "St. Paul," is performed with a band and chorus, and the band is restored to the festival of the Sons of the Clergy. At the ordinary service on Sundays the communion is celebrated with as much music as will be legally allowed. The "Choral Communion," as it is called, was sung in the building for the first time in 1870, upon the occasion of the consecra

Of course, there are many who regret the removal of those features which gave the service a distinguishing tone, and maintained a system of celebrating it which had the advantage of preserving an individuality altogether English. There is no doubt that many abuses arose out of the system which formerly existed. Changes could only be effected by the introduction of strong measures. No one will think the measure weak which swept away almost everything belonging to the old order of things. No one will think that there was any sentimentality in consigning the old works, and the books which contained them, to the lumberroom. All that was old was deemed to be bad; everything must be new, even if it do not prove to be good. A radical change was considered necessary. The order of the service, the manner of singing, the character of the music sung, all became altered. The tares were uproot

ed, it is true, but it is just possible that a self on the subject, and that throughout goodly part of the wheat went also. We this essay he reasons on assumptions are not, however, here discussing the pro- which it is impossible to reconcile with priety or impropriety of the changes, but this doctrine. Though he says, "The only giving a historical record of them. strongest part of our religion to-day is its It will be enough to add that the attempt unconscious poetry," we believe that a made by the authorities to popularize the good deal of his essay is written on the services has been rewarded with all the converse assumption, that "the strongest success it deserves. On most occasions part of our poetry to-day is its unconof a public kind the church is crowded, scious religion." and large numbers attend at the ordinary services.*

*In contrast to the present state of things, a friend

From The Spectator. MR. MATTHEW ARNOLD ON POETRY AND RELIGION.

As we have said, it is not easy to make out to our own satisfaction what Mr. Arnold precisely means, when he represents poetry as so solid, as being every day the surer and surer stay" of the human race, and when he closes his essay by saying that and supremacy are currency

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tells us that in his own recollection the early morning services were only attended by two or three aged dependents on the charity of the dean and chapter. It must not be supposed that the music has made all the difference. In those days when men like Dale, Melville, and Champneys occupied the pulpit, the preach-insured" to all good literature, and in the ing attracted large audiences; and there are now seats supremest degree to classic poetry “not, for larger numbers, under the dome and in the nave. indeed, by the world's deliberate and conscious choice, but by something far deeper, by the instinct of self-preservation in humanity." It is not easy to say precisely what he means, because he wants to take the benefit of two quite inconsistent positions, — the one that poetry is its MR. ARNOLD has recently got hold of own evidence, and needs no conformity a crotchet of which he is extremely proud. with the world of truth to justify it; and It is that poetry is a surer and more solid next, that it depends for its merit on the stay for the soul than any religion; in- amount of substantial truth which it emdeed, if we understand him aright, he bodies. Thus he starts, as we have seen, holds that it is, in fact, the true religion. by saying, "For poetry the idea is everyHe enunciated this with a good deal of thing; it attaches its emotion to the solemnity in his introduction to the po- idea; the idea is the fact;" and yet, so etical section of Messrs. Sampson Low's soon as he comes to define for himself "Hundred Greatest Men," and now he what it is by which he distinguishes good has quoted it from himself, and reinforced poetry not only from bad, but even from his doctrine in a very charming introduc- other good things which are not poetical tion to the "Selections from the English at all, he compares poetry, for instance, Poets," which Mr. T. H. Ward is editing in this relation with history, he discovfor Messrs. Macmillan. Now, Mr. Ar-ers it to be its "higher truth and higher nold, though he is so lucid and beautiful seriousness," so that "the substance and a critic, is not always lucid when he rises into the atmosphere of general dogma. For it really is a general dogma to abjure all dogma. His great objection to theology is that "there is not a creed which is not shaken, not an accredited dogma which is not shown to be questionable, not a received tradition which does not threaten to dissolve." And he regards the future of poetry as immense solely because it has no reference to anything but idea: "For poetry the idea is everything; the rest is a world of illusion, of divine illusion. Poetry attaches its emotion to the idea; the idea is the fact. The strongest part of our religion to-day is its unconscious poetry." We are disposed to deny this pure ideality of poetry altogether, and believe, moreover, that Mr. Arnold is wholly at issue with him

matter of the best poetry acquire their special character from possessing in an eminent degree truth and seriousness." Now, what is truth, except conformity to fact? If the higher poetry has at once more truth and seriousness than the lower, what is that but saying that it takes hold of the most important side of life with a stronger grasp than inferior poetry, and excites, in relation to this more important side of life, that emotion which in degree and kind is most suitable to the human character and lot? So far as we know, that is pretty nearly the sort of description of the higher poetry which Mr. Arnold would be willing to accept. But then what becomes of his boast, that "for poetry the idea is everything," that "poetry attaches its emotion to the idea, the idea is the fact"? On the contrary,

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for poetry, as for almost all other great | so? If, as Mr. Arnold sometimes seems departments of life, the idea is nothing, to think, all these assumptions are unless it properly fits the fact. Take Mr. Arnold's own instance of deficient excellence in poetry, of deficient truth and seriousness, in his quotation from Shelley's "Prometheus Unbound:"

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On the brink of the night and the morning My coursers are wont to respire; But the Earth has just whispered a warning That their flight must be swifter than fire. Mr. Arnold excludes this from the highest class of poetry, because it embodies only a fanciful idea, because the idea has little truth or seriousness in it, little correspondence with the fact of life. Just so he quotes as an instance of supreme excellence in poetry, of supreme truth and seriousness, supreme power to fit the right sort of emotion to the human lot as it is, Dante's grand line, “In la sua voluntade è nostre paie (In His will is our peace"). Now why does he attribute to this line supreme poetical excellence? Not because it expresses a mere idea, but because it expresses with depth and simplicity a profoundly true idea; that is, because it embodies a clear vision of the real relation between the nature of man and the will of God. In what sense can it be justly said that here the idea is everything? The idea is everything if it be true, and everything that it should not be, if it be false. The emotion of profound peace which it expresses is eminently suitable to the position of man, if the will of God really determines all the best part of his lot; and eminently fanciful and unreal, eminently of the character of the unreal imaginations which, in Shelley, Mr. Arnold implicitly condemns, if there be no such will in which to find peace. But, after all, this is a mere single illustration of the difficulty which Mr. Arnold's essay suggests. The difficulty itself goes much further. If it be true that there is an ideal world, with laws of its own and a life of its own, to which every human life and all human laws may make in time an indefinitely close approach, then the higher poetry, so far as it brings that higher life and those higher laws home to us as parts, but in great degree struggling and partially suppressed parts, of our life here, is doing us the greatest possible service. It is, in that case, as Mr. Arnold justly hints, the very instinct of "self-preservation " in man, which obliges us to listen to the higher poetry, and which prolongs its accents in even the dullest ears. But if this be not

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vine illusion;" if poetry begins and ends with the idea, and its emotion is kindled purely by the idea, if the truth or falsehood of the ideal ends and the ideal goal of life has absolutely no interest for the poet, how, in that case, can it be rationally said that the instinct of "selfpreservation" in man has anything to do with the lasting influence of poetry over the human race? Were that so, it would be far easier to conceive that "the instinct of self-preservation" might cause a revolt against poetry, or at least against a very large portion of the poetry of which Mr. Arnold thinks most highly. Take his own special poet, Wordsworth. Can any one maintain, even with plausibility, that Wordsworth's noblest poems have not magnified vastly the weight which men assign to that "divine illusion" of which he speaks? Can it be a self-preserving instinct which magnifies the importance of illusion? Is it not the first instinct of self-preservation to open the eyes of man to all illusions that divert him, without reason, from pursuits which bear substantial fruit to pursuits which bear none? Supposing the value of poetry to be determined by the truth and seriousness of its utterance, how can we praise that poetry which distracts our minds with shadows, and which spends its emotion on conceptions as unreal as Shelley's Prometheus or his fiery car and its fairy guide? Mr. Arnold quotes, in defence of his view of poetry, or at least in defence of one of his views, for we are persuaded that he vibrates between two which are by no means reconcilable with each other, Wordsworth's fine expression that "poetry is the impassioned expression which is in the countenance of all science." But then, Wordsworth sincerely held that trust in a supreme mind and a life of infinite growth in the knowledge and love of the depths and heights of that mind, were a part of the lesson of science, and were verified for us by the power to read this "impassioned expression" which is in the countenance of science. He held that poetry is "the breath and finer spirit of all knowledge," as Mr. Arnold again quotes him; not as Mr. Arnold in one of his moods appears now to wish to translate it, of all ideas. And there is a vast, an immeasurable distance between the two views. Mr. Arnold, in one of his moods, seems to wish to divorce poetry from fact, to treat its life as a parasitic life, fed not on fact, but on ideas. In

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