CONCERNING SOME BAZAARS.

"Pious frauds and holy shifts."

THE present age has seen the formation of numerous institutions with which all of us have become familiar, but whose existence has been more or less brief and evanescent, as the popular taste has determined. Thus we have witnessed, within the last few years, the rise, progress, and decline of spelling bees, of inland aquariums, of skating rinks, and even of political clubs. It is true that in many instances these establishments are not quite dead, but at any rate they exist for the most part only in a very languishing and moribund condition. Amidst its perishing rivals for popularity the Bazaar yet proudly lifts its head, secure for the present in its claim on the support and suffrages of that ficklest of all goddesses -public opinion.

So rapid has been their increase of late, that in the various large towns throughout the country scarcely a month intervenes between their recurrence, whether the objects be of a religious or merely charitable nature.

The fact is, that Bazaars, from their all too-frequent repetition, their dreadful sameness, and their glaring impropriety in some respects, have become, in the opinion of many thoughtful and sensible folk, almost, if not altogether, monstrous absurdities, or at least general nuisances. If Bazaars were held simply to procure money for educational or benevolent purposes, few people would feel inclined to protest against their existence; but it is when funds for sacred ends are sought to be raised by such questionable means as are now used, that a scandal to religion is perpetrated, and a very considerable rent in the armour of the church is made for the pitiless lance of the infidel and atheist to strike a vital point in her frame. Bazaars for needy charities, if properly conducted, are both deserving and unobjectionable in character; they enable their managers to coax money from the pockets of those thoughtless or selfish persons whose charity too often begins and ends with care for "Number One," and serve to keep the wolf from the door of many a modest, worthy institution, and helps them to struggle against the general condition of impecuniosity, which is so frequently their fate.

We pass on to consider those Bazaars which we have in our mind's eye, and to which we shall now confine our remarks, viz., "Church" Bazaars; these, whether in aid of "St. Romwold's Church and Day Schools," or on behalf of a Primitive Methodist Bethel, we hold to be equally unnecessary, and contrary in every way to the spirit and dignity of religion.

There is little of either originality or variety displayed by the promoters of these pretentious and curious institutions.

Every few weeks, at least, sees the exhibition in all parts of the town of enormous posters and placards, printed in divers colours, setting forth in very large letters the dire needs and straits into which the church of "St. So-and-so" has fallen, and further announcing to the public that shortly a Bazaar to raise the desired funds will be held at the Town Hall, when, "by kind permission of (and in consideration of certain moneys) the Colonel and Officers of the Coldstream Guards," the band of the regiment will attend and discourse sweet music; then follows a long list of, if possible, titled Patrons and Patronesses; next, a programme of the unrivalled attractions, considered by the managers to be appropriate in this religious attempt to procure money for sacred purposes such as negro minstrels, conjurors, fortune-tellers, together with enchanted fish-ponds, lucky bags, musical cats, side-splitting entertainments, &c., &c.; the whole concluding with an appeal to the generous and noble-minded public to attend in large multitudes.

The next few days are employed in decorating the Hall, and in furnishing the stalls with everything that nobody wants and a few cheap and really useful goods, to be sold at the highest prices the eloquent tongues of fair women can extract from helpless man.

The Bazaar, or Fancy Fair, or Sale of Work, or Christmas Tree, or call it what you will, has then to be formerly opened by my Lord Tom Noddy, or the Mayor, or an M.P. This having been done in a commonplace way, the business commences, the spoiling of the Egyptians goes on, and this dreary, weary work continues until Saturday night closes the proceedings, when the worn-out stall-keepers seek their much-needed rest sometime in the small hours of Sunday morning-not a few protesting with the little vigour they have left that "this is the last time they will have anything to do with these horrid bazaars ;" a resolution which is faithfully kept until another Bazaar is projected. The papers of the following week are enabled to chronicle another glorious success, and at the same time publish the winning number of the grand piano, or bicycle, or whatever the great prize may have been; and the affair ends and is forgotten, until another needy Church or Chapel issues its equally attractive ecclesiastical programme.

The gain of all this great fuss and exertion is, to my mind, not worth very much; it is true the £500 or £1000 wanted may have been raised, but at what a terrible loss of prestige to the church: the promoters are all thoroughly tired out, nobobody is satisfied, and holy things have been brought very near to ridicule and contempt. At a Bazaar, a few days ago, I saw displayed along the front of the orchestra of the Town Hall, the following incongruous mixture of sacred and secular matters. On the one side was an illuminated text, in large type, "God is our Refuge," and on the other, "Entrance to the Side-splitting Entertainment." Surely this needs no comment! Avarice, conceit, emulation, vanity, are all here brought into full play. Numbers of people, who care not a single straw whether they are helping to build a church or a casino, are tempted to

attend merely to try their luck in the numerous lotteries which hourly or half-hourly take place, in order to dispose of goods too high-priced to be otherwise got rid of.

At a recent Bazaar, not only were the usual articles raffled, but actually religion and mammon joined hand in hand, and five-pound notes were ballotted for as a bait for the covetous and greedy well-wishers of the church. And yet, on Sunday, parsons in the pulpit beat the drum ecclesiastic and thunder forth denunciations against betting, gambling, and the love of money! Vanity and a desire for display are conspicuous in the dresses and adornments of the lady stall-keepers, who each and all seem to try to outvie their neighbours in the brilliancy and costliness of their attire. If the money spent on this item alone were given instead to the object for which the Bazaar is held, a large proportion of the required sum would be at once forthcoming.

I have been, as many other young men still go, to Bazaars, simply for the fun of the thing. It was so very pleasant to be wheedled and coaxed by silver tongues into purchasing a ticket for even one of those abominations, in the eyes of all true bachelors, the fluffy, neck-irritating antimacassars. But who could resist the winning smiles so freely lavished by those self-same young ladies who sat last Sunday in their pews as demure and proper as though, to use a homely simile, "butter wouldn't melt in their mouths."

There is yet another reason why the cause of religion must unavoidably suffer on account of these same wretched, paltry Bazaars. I allude to the employment of very young children as money takers, frequently without any check or supervision being exercised by the authorities. This custom is most unwise, it puts temptation in their way which they cannot always withstand; boys and girls hardly in their teens are entrusted with sums such as never have been probably in their possession at one time before. At a recent Church Bazaar, a little boy employed to lead a pony round the Town Hall and to charge a trifle for allowing children to ride round on the animal, was missing one evening, and so, alas! was his cash: the misguided youth had succumbed to sore temptation, and had disappeared with his ill-gotten wealth to drown remorse and the stings of conscience in ginger pop or lemonade.

One might indeed enlarge upon the many evils of Bazaars for a much longer period than would be needed to set forth their advantages. The large sums spent in their organisation, the time and money devoted to making articles for sale, added to the cost of the band, decorations, and other necessary attractions; the ladies' dresses, printing, advertising, &c., &c., would, in most instances equal, if not exceed, the net amount of profit actually obtained by the pernicious means we have at length referred to.

Much petty jealousy, bickering, and squabbling amongst members of congregations would be avoided; the dignity of the Church would not be reduced to a hollow mockery; and lastly, long suffering and obviously miserable curates would be spared the personal indignity and discomfort of carrying about behind the heels of some pert damsel in a crowded

assembly, huge and cumbrous articles, fearfully and wonderfully made; and the self-respect of the vicar would not be hurt by the scenes he is nightly compelled to see and yet not see.

He would, no doubt, be very glad to disappear, and to go where the waits outside my window are inviting me and him and everybody else now as I write these lines, "Over there, over there," anywhere, indeed, out of the madding crowd, who are hustling and crushing, and wandering aimlessly round and round the fancy fair.

Years ago, in the times that we in our superiority and self-conceit call barbarous and rude, certain simple and foolish men-our countrymen, though-ignorant of railways or electric telegraphs, and many other modern inventions as they were, yet had the cunning, and will, and power to raise all over this land churches, and abbeys, and cathedrals, and minsters very beautiful to see. In their simplicity, they thought God was honoured best in buildings so glorious and noble, that we, who gaze with awe and admiration at their marvellous grace and magnificence, are compelled to think that He gave the builders the inspiration and genius to construct and finish them so wondrously well. But the people who built these churches, so loved by artist and archæologist, knew not of the blessings of the Bazaar, so we can only pity and not blame them for raising the means for their work in a humble and simple manner. It is true our forefathers had some faith and pride in all the work they undertook, not only to their own benefit but also for that of posterity; yet, without Bazaars they must have been poor, ignorant creatures after all.

Believers in, and champions of Bazaars will answer all this with the usual stock argument, if such it is worth calling, that people will not give without some great inducement-that is to say, they must have an actual and substantial equivalent for every penny given to the service of God-otherwise congregations will button up their pockets and refuse to give a farthing. Faith and all that sort of thing was very well in its way, and did in primitive times when people knew no better, but nowa-days it has lost its ancient power. Yet these same objectors sing on Sunday with smug complacency the words of the well-known hymn, unconscious of the irony conveyed in its lines,

"We lose what on ourselves we spend,

We have a treasure without end

Whatever, Lord, to Thee we lend,

Who givest all!"

The

Many clergymen and their churchwardens say they would be delighted if the necessary funds required could be obtained without these costly and troublesome nuisances; "But," say they," it is impossible to do without them." Not so, gentlemen, there are two courses always open. first is to do without the money; better be in debt, or have a church with a roof that lets the rain come in, than get money in a discreditable manner the other course is, get the funds wanted by subscriptions and donations.

I will conclude these remarks, which are written in no pessimist's spirit, but simply in the hope to do good (although I fear that

Let Hercules himself do what he may,

The cat will mew, and dog will have his day,

and so will these institutions) by showing how money can be raised without their aid, and without the slightest scandal to religion, or of selfrespect to the most squeamish of religious men.

Every reader knows a certain grim, unattractive edifice which stands at the top of New Street, and which is called Christ Church. This unfortunate building has been more roundly abused for its excessive ugliness, by architects and lovers of art, than perhaps any other ecclesiastical structure in England. That it is not beautiful I freely admit, it is even hideous; yet, seen from a distance, on a moonlight night, when its somewhat severe and formal aspect is softened and toned down in some measure, it appears almost-well, passable.

But as the poorest and plainest of religious fabrics occasionally get out of repair, just as do their handsomer brethren, it came to pass about ten years ago that some £600 or £800 were needed for indispensible and necessary cleaning and repairing of the [building. Of course, the vicar called a meeting of the parishioners to consider how the money was to be raised. Some were for a Bazaar as the only plan likely to be successful; but this was at once vetoed by the vicar and churchwardens as being a scheme unworthy altogether of the Church of England, and out of all harmony with the traditions of sober, steady-going, Christ Church. Many Birmingham men may yet remember who that same Vicar was at this time-the Rev. Charles Marson; a man who, by his bold and manly character, his frank and courteous bearing, his ready wit, and his true piety, endeared himself, not only to his own flock and Church, but to opponents as well; for he was, by the way, a real, unmistakeable, and uncompromising political parson. Even George Dawson, on more than one occasion, expressed his real liking for his fearless and eloquent adversary. But it is not on these grounds only that Birmingham people, whether clergy or laity, should respect Mr. Marson. By his example we may learn the lesson that all men are not the selfish and grudging beings supporters of Bazaars would make them out to be, and will, if properly asked, give freely and cheerfully to good objects.

This is how it was done: every man and woman in the congregation (it was not by any means a wealthy one), were first solicited to help, either by a donation or a weekly subscription until the work was finished and all paid for. Then every merchant, manufacturer, professional man, and tradesman in the parish was appealed to by volunteer canvassers from the congregation, and many old members of the Church sent their mite for old acquaintance sake.

The plan was thoroughly successful. The respectful, courteous appeal to the parishioners for a common and mutual benefit was answered in a very practical way: the most unlikely people gave; even nonconformists helped generously to repair that ugly and very much established church.