Begg on the Use of the Organ, Chapter 2
James Dodson
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CHAPTER II.
ART AND RELIGION—OR GORGEOUS WORSHIP ANTAGONISTIC TO SPIRITUAL RELIGION AND CHRISTIAN PROGRESS.
“Of all base fatuities, the basest is the being lured into the Romanist Church by the glitter of it, like larks into a trap by broken glass! to be blown into a change of religion by the whine of an organ-pipe! stitched into a new creed by gold threads on priests’ petticoats! jangled into a change of religion by the chimes of a belfry!”—Ruskin.
It is sometimes attempted to dispose of the whole question thus raised by a short process of reasoning. The question, it is said, is only one of degree in the use of art in religion. If art is used at all in connection with religion,—for example, in the use of choirs, or the erection of superior ecclesiastical buildings—it may as well be used in the employment of instrumental music in the worship of God. If this argument were admitted, it is difficult to see what limit could be set to its application. For the same reason, no stand could be made
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against the use of pictures, statues, incense, and gorgeous vestments in our worship, on the ground that the employment of art in connection with religion is only a question of degree. But this argument is a pure and obvious fallacy. Without pretending to justify on other grounds all that has recently been done in the way of ornamenting churches, the kind of house in which you are to worship God is a very different matter from the worship of God itself. The early Christians which were in “Cæsar’s household,” no doubt, worshipped in a palace, whilst Lydia and her companions worshipped by the river’s side, and Paul and Silas worshipped in the prison; but we have no doubt that the worship itself was substantially the same in each case, and in all alike acceptable to God. On the other hand, the use of a choir is still only a mode of conducting vocal psalmody; and if the members of a choir are unobjectionable in character, and are not aliens, but simply members of the congregation, it is obvious that no new principle is involved. To sing at all, and this God has expressly pre-
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scribed, the music must be led, and there is no difference in principle between one leader and several. Nay, as music, to be made perfect, must be sung in parts, it is necessary, or at least expedient, that more than one should lead. We do not say that there is no danger here. We believe the reverse, and that great care is necessary, but there is here no new principle. Art, therefore, applied to what God has expressly appointed, or to what has no real connection with worship, can never be held to justify the introduction of new and unauthorised corruptions into the worship of God itself. The whole argument, in a word, is a pure and obvious fallacy.
Before proceeding further, it may be of importance, moreover, to expose a corresponding fallacy which has great weight with many unthinking and ignorant people, viz., that organs and a splendid ceremonial must have the effect of elevating and refining the soul, of arousing and exalting all the better principles and feelings of our moral natures; and that, therefore, it is scarcely possible to imagine that
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their religious use can be absolutely unlawful in the Christian Church. Now all this is a mere delusion, contradicted by history and experience. In proportion as the senses and imagination are excited and gratified, the soul is generally starved; and it is truly melancholy to think that amongst the revived theories of the present day, proclaimed and acted upon by many professing Protestants, is neither more nor less than one of the leading principles of Romish superstition. All idolaters maintain that the fine arts generally, but, perhaps, especially music and sculpture, have a direct and necessary tendency to refine and elevate the human soul above the grovelling pursuits of sense and sin. The theory is very plausible, and is apt to be eagerly embraced by the ignorant and thoughtless. The facts of history, however, teach a very different lesson. We shall not be suspected, perhaps, of entertaining any strong universal sympathies in common with Mr John Ruskin, the great lecturer on art and taste, however much we may admire his genius and pictorial power of
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writing. In art, however, he is one of the highest authorities, and the following extract from one of his lectures, delivered at the opening of the Kensington Museum, is conclusive on the point to which we have referred, whilst it is equally eloquent and suggestive. He has been referring to the bare and bald state of the Highlands of Scotland, and the poor cottages of the Highlanders, and he proceeds to contrast this with the state of India, and to compare the condition of the Highlanders, implying the utter absence of works of art, with the high state of Indian civilization, as connected with the social morality of the people, as follows:—
“Among the models set before us in this institution [the Kensington Museum], and in others established throughout the kingdom for the teaching of design, there are, I suppose, none in their kind more admirable than the decorated works of India. They are, indeed, in all materials capable of colour—wool, marble, or metal—almost inimitable in their delicate application of divided hue and fine arrangement
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of fantastic line. Nor is this power of theirs exerted by the people rarely or without enjoyment; the line of subtle design seems universal in the race, and is developed in every implement that they shape and in every building that they raise. . . .
“So then, you have in these two great populations, Indian and Highland, in the races of the jungle and the moor, two national capacities distinctly and accurately opposed. On the one side you have a race rejoicing in art, and eminently and universally endowed with the gift of it; on the other, you have a people careless of art, and apparently incapable of it, their utmost efforts hitherto reaching no farther than to the variation in the positions of the bars of colours in square chequers. And we are thus urged naturally to inquire, What is the effect on the moral character in each nation of this vast difference in their pursuits and apparent capacities? and whether those rude chequers of the tartan, or the exquisitely fancied involutions of the Cashmere fold habitually cover the noblest hearts? We have had our answer.
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Since the race of man began its course of sin on this earth, nothing has ever been done by it so significative of all bestial, and lower than bestial, degradation as the acts of the Indian race in the year that has just passed by. [He refers at some length to the horrors of the Indian mutiny, and to the noble part acted by the Highlanders on that memorable occasion, and proceeds] . . . And as thus, on the one hand, you have an extreme energy of baseness displayed by these lovers of art, on the other—as if to put the question into the narrowest compass—you have an extreme energy of virtue displayed by the despisers of art. . . . Out of the peat cottage come faith, courage, self-sacrifice, purity, and piety, and whatever else is fruitful in the work of heaven; out of the ivory palaces came treachery, cruelty, cowardice, idolatry, bestiality—whatever else is fruitful in the work of hell.
“But the difficulty does not close here. . . . If we pass from the Indian peninsula into other countries of the globe, and from our own recent experience to the records of history,
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we shall still find one great fact fronting us, viz., the apparent connection of great success in art with subsequent national degradation. You find, in the first place, that the nations which possessed a refined art were always subdued by those which possessed none; you find the Lydian subdued by the Mede, the Athenian by the Spartan, the Greek by the Roman, the Roman by the Goth, the Burgundian by the Switzer; but you find beyond this, that even where no attack by any external power has accelerated the catastrophe of the state, the period in which any given people reach their highest power in art, is precisely that in which they appear to sign the warrant of their own ruin; and that from the moment in which a perfect statue appears in Florence, a perfect picture in Venice, or a perfect fresco in Rome, from that hour forward probity, industry, and courage, seem to be exiled from their walls, and they perish in a sculpturesque paralysis and many-coloured corruption.
“But even this is not all. As art seems thus in its delicate forms to be one of the chief
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promoters of indolence and sensuality—so I need hardly remind you it hitherto has appeared only in energetic manifestation when it was in the service of superstition. The four great manifestations of human intellect which founded the four principal kingdoms of art—Egyptian, Babylonian, Greek, and Italian—were developed by the strong excitement of active superstition in the worship of Osiris, Belus, Minerva, and the Queen of Heaven. Therefore, to speak briefly, it may appear very difficult to show that art has ever existed in a consistent and thoroughly energetic school, unless it was engaged in the propagation of falsehood and the encouragement of vice.
“And finally, while art has thus always shown itself active in the service of luxury and idolatry, it has also been strongly directed to the exaltation of cruelty. A nation which lives a pastoral and innocent life never decorates the shepherd’s staff or the plough-handle; but races who live by depredation and slaughter nearly always bestow exquisite ornaments on the quiver, the helmet, and the spear.”
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Mr Ruskin proceeds to account for this result by alleging that it arises from the fact that the corrupt nations, by dwelling on mere human works of art, shut themselves out from the contemplation of the glorious works of God. It would have been still more true had he added that they were shut out, or shut themselves out, from that blessed word of God which, under the operation of the Divine Spirit, can alone purify and exalt the soul. He says:—
“It thus indicates that the people who practise it are cut off from all possible sources of healthy knowledge or natural delight; that they have wilfully sealed up and put aside the entire volume of the world, and have got nothing to read, nothing to dwell upon, but that imagination of the thoughts of their hearts * of which we are told that ‘it is only evil continually.’ Over the whole spectacle of creation they have thrown a veil in which there is no rent. For them no star peeps through the blanket of the dark; for them neither their heavens shine nor their mountains rise; for them the flowers do not blossom; for them the
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creatures of field and forest do not live. They lie bound in the dungeon of their own corruption, encompassed only by doleful phantoms or by spectral vacancy.”—The Two Paths; being Lectures on Art. London: Smith & Elder; 1859. Pp. 4—12.
The same eloquent writer, who has profoundly studied this aspect of the question, says, solemnly and pensively, on another occasion:—“I do not know, as I have repeatedly stated, how far the splendour of architecture, or other art, is compatible with the honesty and usefulness of religious service. The longer I live, the more I incline to severe judgment in this matter, and the less I can trust the sentiments excited by painted glass and coloured tiles. But if there be indeed value in such things, our plain duty is to direct our strength against the superstition which has dishonoured them. There are thousands who might possibly be benefited by them, to whom they are now merely an offence, owing to their association with idolatrous ceremonies. I have but this exhortation for all who love them—not to regu-
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late their creed by their taste in colours, but to hold calmly to the right, at whatever present cost to their imaginative enjoyment; sure that they will one day find in heavenly truth a brighter charm than in earthly imagery, and striving to gather stones for the eternal building, whose walls shall be salvation and whose gates shall be praise.”—Ruskin’s “Stones of Venice,” Vol. I., Appendix 12, p. 374.
Unfortunately, the same thing, thus affirmed in regard to art in general, can be proved to be true in regard to music, although God was pleased to allow instrumental music, not in the ordinary worship of the Jews, but in connection with the splendid ceremonial of the temple.* The history of musical instruments is closely connected with the progress and triumph of idolatry, superstition, and cruelty. Dr Por-
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* It has been plausibly alleged that the blowing of trumpets and the use of other powerful instruments in connection with the temple service, and especially the offering of the sacrifices, was demanded by a physical necessity in connection with the hundreds of thousands who assembled at the Jewish feasts, whom no human voice could reach. At all events, it is quite certain that in the ordinary Jewish worship in their synagogues no instruments were used.
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teous, of Glasgow, justly says—“Tubal, of the race of cursed Cain, a race which early began to corrupt the worship of the Supreme Being, was the father of all such as handle the harp and organ. And there is no doubt that Ham, who was born long before the Flood, and of course was acquainted with many of Cain’s posterity, would transmit some of their corrupt superstitious notions of religious worship to Cush, Mizraim, and Canaan, the father of the Chaldeans, Egyptians, and Phœnicians—those nations which, ancient history informs us, first set up idols and introduced instrumental music into the public worship of their gods.”
Again, speaking of the Scottish people, and their rejection of instrumental music in worship, he says:—“They know that organs and instrumental music have been abused to the purposes of voluptuousness and impiety—they know, for Job hath told them, ‘that the wicked among his cotemporaries took the timbrel and the harp, and rejoiced at the sound of the organ—and yet said unto God, Depart from
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us; for we desire not the knowledge of thy ways. What is the Almighty, that we should serve him? and what profit should we receive if we pray unto him?’ (Job xxi. 12.) And they have read in the book of Amos, the prophet, of a woe denounced upon them ‘that are at ease in Zion, and who trust in the mountain of Samaria; who put far away the evil day, and cause the seat of violence to come near; who lie on beds of ivory, who eat lambs out of the flock, and the calves out of the midst of the stall; who drink wine out of bowls, and anoint themselves with the chief ointments.” (Amos vi.) But this very numerous description of men in affluent circumstances, and addicted to luxurious habits, our countrymen have read, “chanted to the sound of the viol, and invented to themselves instruments of music like David.” And they have read (Dan. iii.) that when Nebuchadnezzar dedicated his golden image in the presence of a numerous and loyal assembly, “that they all fell down and worshipped the golden image, at what time they heard the sound of the cornet,
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flute, harp, sackbut, psaltery, dulcimer, and all kinds of music.”*
The author, in his closing address as Moderator of the General Assembly of the Free Church of Scotland, 1865, made the following remarks on this aspect of the question:—“It is very evident that we are upon the eve of a new struggle, or rather of an old struggle revived, for which I hope our Church will be prepared, for it is only another form of the Disruption contest—a struggle in regard to purity in the worship of God. (Applause.) A manifest apostasy on this subject is evidently afoot in certain quarters. A new “pilgrimage to Canterbury”—(laughter)—has apparently commenced, the key-note of which was sounded some time ago from the chair of the General Assembly of the Established Church, although I for one rejoice that its progress for the present is somewhat arrested. (Applause.) The
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* “A Statement of the Proceedings of the Presbytery of Glasgow, relative to the use of an Organ in St Andrew’s Church, on the 22d August, 1807.” Glasgow: Ogle, Wilson Street. 1808.
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struggle now, however, is a natural result of giving up high principles in the Established Church at the time of the Disruption; for if I were prepared to abandon the Word of God as my only rule, I do not see why I should occupy a humble Puritan position after I have abandoned my Puritan principles. Why not make the Church as attractive to human nature as possible, if I am under no restraint from the Word of God? Thus men have always naturally argued; and the new struggle may probably yet take the very shape of the contest of our ancestors, but, let us hope, with a like result. Meantime there are great principles at issue, which it is most important that our people, like their noble ancestors of old, should thoroughly understand. The worship of God is the most sacred thing with which His creatures have to do. It is more sacred than the government of the Church, more sacred even than Christian doctrine, for these are, in a sense, merely instrumental in bringing us into proper relations to God; and if it is true in anything whatever that God’s will must be the
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only rule, it is especially true of His own worship. In approaching an earthly sovereign the minutest rules of the Court are rigidly enforced; and Jesus says, “In vain do they worship me, teaching for doctrines the commandments of men.” Of unspiritual worship God says, “Who hath required this at your hands?” Some preliminary impressions, however, must here be brushed aside. It is most natural that such blind creatures as we are should imagine that what is pleasing to ourselves must necessarily be pleasing to God; and hence have arisen gorgeous cathedrals, the splendid vestments of priests, magnificent images and pictures to gratify the eyes, clouds of incense for the nostrils, and peals of instrumental music for the ears. As the gospel has died out, all this formalism and ritualism have come in; and it is all part and parcel of the very same system of sensuous worship, as opposed to spiritual. Yet no man with intelligence beyond that of a Hottentot—(a laugh)—can really suppose, on serious consideration, that the great Creator of all, the High and Holy One, who fills immen-
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sity with His presence, and inhabits eternity, can be influenced by such means and appliances as these. When the matter is calmly pressed in the form of argument, this must be admitted. God says, “My son, give me thine heart;” and it is therefore only alleged that the devotions of the worshippers are stimulated by this sensuous process. Will this allegation, any more than the other, stand the test of reason or experience? Has it not been often remarked, that just in proportion to the gorgeousness of outward worship, the reality of worship itself has dwindled and decayed? Man hates direct spiritual contact with God, and these external additions have become the very trees of the garden, amidst which he has hid himself, like Adam, from Jehovah’s presence; whilst with the outward magnificence and melting pathos of so-called worship at Rome, where this sensuous system has culminated, religion itself wholly disappears. One of our noblest poets has said of that land of ecclesiastical splendour and the most enchanting sacred music:—
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“Far to the right, where Appenine ascends,
Bright as the summer, Italy extends—
* * * *
But small the bliss that sense alone bestows,
And sensual bliss is all the nation knows.
In florid beauty groves and fields appear;
Man is the only growth that dwindles here;
Though grave, yet trifling, zealous, yet untrue,And even in penance planning sins anew.
* * * *
While low delights succeeding fast behind,
In hateful meanness occupy the mind.
My soul! turn from them, turn thee, to survey
Where rougher climes a nobler race display.
(Applause.) It is not the clime, however—(hear, hear)—but the Christian principle and the spiritual worship, that have made the difference. Lord Macaulay, in speaking of the Puritans of England,—those men of Britain who have left behind them the noblest monuments of sanctified genius, and who undoubtedly founded civil and religious liberty on both sides of the Atlantic, in short, the only real liberty which exists in the world,—says, ‘The Puritans rejected with contempt the ceremonious homage which other sects substituted for
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the worship of the soul. Instead of catching occasional glimpses of the Deity through an obscuring veil, they aspired to gaze full on His intolerable brightness, and to commune with Him face to face. Hence originated their contempt for terrestrial distinctions. The difference between the greatest and the meanest of mankind seemed to vanish when compared with the boundless interval which separated the whole race from Him on whom their own eyes were constantly fixed.’ ‘Look on this picture and on that,’ compare the moral results of simple and Scriptural Presbyterianism with those of the highest and most elaborate ritualism, as these are seen in Italy and Scotland respectively, and apply to this important question the maxim of Christ himself, ‘By their fruits ye shall know them.’ The truth is, the boasted effect produced by instrumental music and other similar means, in religion, is not upon the soul at all, but simply upon the nerves. (Laughter and applause.) The nervous system of the most wicked will sometimes, we are told, be so affected at a theatre, that
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temporary tears will be shed, whilst the soul remains hard and insensible as the nether millstone. At a soldier’s funeral, also, it has often been remarked, that when the ‘Dead March in Saul’ is played, all will appear most grave and sombre; but when the body is buried, and the troops return with a merry tune, all the gloom is given to the winds. Even so, the boasted effect produced in the Church by instrumental music has no more to do with true, spiritual, or Christian feeling, than have the contortions of a frog under a galvanic battery—(laughter and applause)—whilst in speaking of the simple and noble worship of loving hearts that God has touched—not the result of a dead instrument, like the praying machines of China, but the devout breathings of an intelligent soul really worshipping in lowly reverence before God—we may well exclaim with the poet—
‘Compared with this, how poor Religion’s pride,
In all the pomp of method and of art,
When men display to congregations wide,
Devotion’s every grace except the heart!
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The Pow’r, incensed, the pageant will desert,
The pompous strain, the sacerdotal stole;
But, haply, in some cottage far apart
May hear, well pleased, the language of the soul,
And in His book of life the inmates poor enrol.’
(Applause.)”
Are not all these principles strikingly illustrated in connection with the attempted revival of ritualism at present in Scotland? Do we ever dream that the leaders of that movement will manifest any especial zeal in defending vital truth or serious religion? On the contrary, has not a determined assault upon the fourth commandment, and even upon the binding obligation of the whole Decalogue, come from this very quarter? It is not at all wonderful. The ritualists in the time of Christ made void the law of God by their own traditions. In the time of Paul they subverted the gospel that they might re-introduce their own “beggarly elements,” and as face answereth to face in a glass, so do their present successors act with similar spirit and consistency.