From Death into Life Part 2

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CHAPTER 4

Antiquarian Researches and Ministry, 1843-6.

Another thing which raised my name in and beyond the county was the "Lost Church" at Perranzabuloe. There was an old British church existing in some sand-hills in the parish, and it was said to be entire as far as the four walls. The hill under which it was buried was easily known by the bones and teeth which covered it. The legend said that the patron saint, St. Piran, was buried under the altar, and that close by the little church was a cell in which he lived and died. This was enough. I got men, and set to work to dig it up. After some days' labour we came to the floor, where we discovered the stone seats, and on the plaster of the wall the greasy marks of the heads and shoulders of persons who had sat there many centuries ago. We found the chancel step, and also the altar tomb (which was built east and west, not north and south). It was fallen, but enough remained to show the original shape and height of it.

I put a notice in the newspapers, inviting people to come and see the old church which had been buried for fifteen hundred years. In the presence of many visitors, clerical and lay, we removed the stones of the altar, and found the skeleton of St. Piran, which was identified in three ways. The legend said that he was a man seven feet high; the skeleton measured six feet from the shoulder-bones to the heel Again, another legend said that his heart was enshrined in a church forty miles away; the skeleton corresponded with this, for it was headless.

Moreover, it was said that his mother and a friend were buried on either side of him; we also found skeletons of a male and female in these positions. Being satisfied on this point, we set the masons to work to rebuild the altar tomb in its original shape and size, using the same stones as far as they would go. We made up the deficiency with a heavy granite slab.

On this I traced with my finger, in rude Roman letters, "SANCTUS PIRa.n.u.s." The mason would not cut those crooked letters unless I consented for him to put his name in better ones in the corner. I could not agree to this, so his apprentice and I, between us, picked out the rude letters, which have since (I have heard) been copied for a veritable Roman inscription.

My name was now up as an antiquary, and I was asked to be the secretary (for the West of England) to the Archaeological Society. I was supposed to be an old gentleman, and heard myself quoted as the "venerable and respected Haslam," whose word was considered enough to settle a knotty point beyond doubt. I was invited to give a lecture on the old Perran Church, at the Royal Inst.i.tution, Truro, which I did; ill.u.s.trating it with sketches of the building, and exhibiting some rude remains of carving, which are now preserved in the museum there.

The audience requested me (through their chairman) to print my lecture.

This I undertook also; but being very young in literary enterprises, I added a great deal of other matter to the ma.n.u.script which I was preparing for the press. There was much in the book * about early Christianity and ecclesiastical antiquities. I imagined that this parish was, in British and Druidic times, a populous place, and somewhat important. There was a "Round," or amphitheatre, for public games, and four British castles; also a great many sepulchral mounds on the hills, the burial-place of chieftains. I supposed that St. Piran came here among these rude natives (perhaps painted savages) to preach the Gospel, and then built himself a cell by the sea-sh.o.r.e,+ near a spring or well, where he baptized his converts. Close by, he built this little church, in which he worshipped G.o.d and prayed for the people.

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* "The Church of St. Piran." Published by Van Voorst.

+ This little building still remains entire, under the sand. Some pieces of British pottery and limpet-sh.e.l.ls were found outside the door.

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The words of the poet Spenser do not inaptly describe this scene of other days:--

A little, lowly hermitage it was, Downe in a dale-- Far from resort of people, that did pas In treveill to and fro: a litle wyde There was a holy chappell edifyde, Wherein the hermite dewly wont to say His holy things each morn and eventyde; Thereby a crystall streame did gently play, Which, from a sacred fountaine welled forth away.

Here then, more than fourteen centuries ago, people called upon G.o.d; and when their little sanctuary was overwhelmed with the sand, they removed to the other side of the river, and built themselves another church; but they still continued to bury their dead around and above the oratory and resting-place of St. Piran.

When my book was published, there ensued a hot controversy about the subject of it; and some who came to see the "Lost Church" for themselves, declared that it was nothing more than "a modern cowshed;"

others would not believe in the antiquity I claimed for it: one of these even ventured to a.s.sert his opinion in print, that "it was at least eight centuries later than the date I had fixed;" another asked in a newspaper letter, "How is it, if this is a church, that there are no others of the same period on record?"

This roused me to make further research; and I was soon rewarded by finding in the registry at Exeter a list of ninety-two churches existing in Cornwall alone in the time of Edward the Confessor, of which Lam-piran was one. With the help of another antiquary, I discovered nine in one week, in the west part of the county, with foundation walls and altar tombs, of which I published an account in the "Archaeological Journal." This paper set other persons to work, who discovered similar remains in various parts of the country; and thus it was proved to demonstration that we had more ecclesiastical antiquities, and of earlier date, than we were aware of.

Next, my attention was directed to Cornish crosses; about which I also sent a paper, with ill.u.s.trations, as a good secretary and correspondent to the same Journal. My researches on this subject took me back to a very remote time. I found crosses among Roman remains, with inscriptions, something like those in the Catacombs near Rome--these were evidently Christian; but I found crosses also among Druidic antiquities. I could not help inquiring, "Where did the Druids get this sign?" From the Phoenicians. "Where did they get it?" From the Egyptians. "Where did they get it?" Then I discovered that the cross had come to Egypt with traditions about a garden, a woman, a child, and a serpent, and that the cross was always represented in the hand of the second person of their trinity of G.o.ds. This personage had a human mother, and slew the serpent which had persecuted her.*

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* These traditions came to the Egyptians from an ancestor who had come over the flood with seven others.

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Here was a wonderful discovery! The mythology of Egypt was based on original tradition, handed down from Antediluvian times! From further investigation, it was evident that the substance of Hindoo mythology came from the same source; as also that of the Greeks, Chinese, Mexicans, and Scandinavians. This is how the Druids got the cross also: it was in the hand of their demi-G.o.d Thor, the second person of their triad, who slew the great serpent with his famous hammer, which he bequeathed to his followers.

I was beside myself with excitement, and walked bout the room in a most agitated state. I then made a table or harmony of these various mythologies, and when placed side by side, it was quite clear that they were just one and the same story, though dressed up in a variety of mythological forms, and that the story was none other than that of the Bible.

In my architectural journeys I used to entertain, people with these wondrous subjects; and one evening I had the honour of agitating even the Bishop of Exeter himself, who, in his enthusiasm, bade me write a book, and dedicate it to him. I did so. "The Cross and the Serpent" is the t.i.tle of it, and it was duly inscribed to his lordship.

It excites me even now to think about it, though it is thirty-five years since I made these discoveries. The old librarian at Oxford declared that I was mad, and yet he could not keep away from the subject, and he was never weary of hearing something more about it. This reverend Doctor said, "If you are right, then all the great antiquaries are wrong." I suggested that they had not had the advantage I possessed of placing their various theories side by side, or of making their observations from my point of view.

Notwithstanding all these external labours, which engrossed my earnest and deep attention, I did not neglect my parish. I felt, however, that my parishioners did not know anything about ecclesiastical antiquities or architectural science; and that they knew nothing, and cared less, about Church teaching. They did not believe, with me, that in order to be saved hereafter, they ought to be in the Church, and receive the Holy Communion--that there is no salvation out of the Church, and no Church without a Bishop. They were utterly careless about these things and from the first had been an unsympathetic and unteachable people. I feel sure that had it not been for other interesting occupations which engaged my mind, I should have been altogether discouraged with them.

I tried to stir them up to a zeal worthy of their ancestors, who were such good and loyal Churchmen, that King Charles the First wrote them a letter of Commendation, and commanded that it should be put up in all the churches. I had a copy of this letter well painted, framed, and placed in a conspicuous part of my church. Then I prepared an original sermon, which I preached, or rather read, to inaugurate the royal letter.

My text was taken from Heb. 12:22-24, "Ye are come unto Mount Sion, and unto the city of the living G.o.d, the heavenly Jerusalem, and to an innumerable company of angels, to the general a.s.sembly and church of the first-born, which are written in heaven, and to G.o.d the Judge of all, and to the spirits of just men made perfect, and to Jesus the mediator of the new covenant, and to the blood of sprinkling, that speaketh better things than that of Abel." I applied these words to the Church of England, and rather reproached the Cornish people for not being more loyal and scriptural!

I think I was more roused by my sermon than any one else; and no one asked me to print it, but I did for all that, with a copy of the king's letter. I am sorry to say that the public did not care sufficiently about it to buy copies enough even to pay for printing.

It fell very flat, but I attributed that to the degeneracy of the times, and of Cornish people in particular. The fact was, they understood that text far better than I did, and knew that "the Church of the first-born"

was something more spiritual than I had any conception of.

From the commencement of my ministry I did not, as a general rule, preach my own sermons, but Newman's, which I abridged and simplified, for in that day I thought them most sound in doctrine, practical and full of good common sense. Indeed, as far as Church teaching went, they were, to my mind, perfect. They stated doctrines and drew manifest conclusions; but my people were not satisfied with them then; and I can see now, thank G.o.d! that, with all their excellences, they were utterly deficient in spiritual vitality.

Their author was one whom I personally admired very much, but by his own showing, in his "Apologia." he was a man who was searching not for G.o.d, but for a Church. At length, when he grasped the ideal of what a Church ought to be, he tried by the Oxford Tracts, especially No. XC, to raise the Church of England to his standard; and failing in that, he became dissatisfied, and went over to the Church of Rome.

Once, when I arrived at a friend's house in the Lake district, I was told that there was a most beautiful view of distant mountains to be seen from my window. In the morning I lifted the blind to look, but only saw an ordinary view of green fields, hedges, trees and a lake. There was nothing else whatever to be seen. In the course of the day, a heavy mist which had been hanging over the lake was dispersed, and then I saw the beautiful mountains which before had been so completely veiled that it was difficult to believe in their existence.

So it was with me. I could see ecclesiastical things, but the more glorious view of spiritual realities beyond them, in all their full and vast expanse, was as yet hidden.

Whether my extracts from Newman's Sermons were more pointed, or whether I became more impatient with my congregation, I cannot tell, but it was very evident that my words were beginning to take effect at last; for as I went on preaching and protesting against the people and against schism, my "ba.s.s viol" called on me one day, and said, "If you go on preaching that doctrine, you will drive away the best part of your congregation." "Excuse me," I answered, "not the best part; you mean the worse part." "Well," ho said, "you will see."

On the following Sunday, I gave out my text, and had scarcely read three pages of my ma.n.u.script when I heard a voice say, "Now we will go." With this, the "ba.s.s viol," the other fiddles, the clarionet, the ophicleide, and the choir, came stumping down the gallery stairs, and marched out.

Some of the congregation followed their example, with the determination never to come back to the Church again. I waited till the noise was over, and then went on with my sermon meekly, and thought myself a martyr for Church principles.

I little thought that the people were being martyred; yet they were right, and enlightened in the truth, while I was altogether in the dark, and knew nothing about it. From this time there was a constant feud between the parishioners and myself. I thought that they were schismatics; and they knew that I was unconverted, and did not preach the Gospel.

One day, a Dissenter called to pay a burial fee for the funeral of his child, which he had purposely omitted paying at the proper time because he wished to tell me a piece of his mind. I was absent on the occasion on some architectural or archaeological business, which was to me all important. "I know," he said, "why you went away and would not bury my child." "Do you?" I asked. "Yes; it was because I am a Dissenter." "Oh!"

I said, "I would bury you all to-morrow if I could; for you are no good, and can do none either."

This went round the parish like wildfire, and did not advance my popularity or do my cause any good.

Seriously at this time I thought that separation from the Church of England was a most deadly sin--it was schism. Idolatry and murder were sins against the Mosaic law; but this was a sin against the Church. I little dreamt then that many of the people with whom I thus contended, and whom I grieved so much, were real spiritual members of Christ, and had only ceased to be members of the Church of England because I did not preach the Gospel; that, in fact, I was the cause of their leaving the services; that I was the schismatic, for I was separated from Christ: they only, and that for a good reason, had separated from the communion of the Church of England, which I misrepresented.

The Church of England's teaching since the Reformation, like that of the primitive Church, is based not on baptism, but conversion. Baptism was intended according to the Lord's commandment (Matt 28:19), for the purpose of making disciples*--that is, to graft members into the body of Christ's Church outwardly. Whatever special grace is given to infants and others at baptism, is given upon the condition of personal faith and repentance. Until a baptized person has been enabled by the Holy Ghost to repent and believe the Gospel, he is not really a new-born child of G.o.d, or raised from death into life, though nominally, in the words of the Catechism, he has "been made a child of G.o.d."

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* See Greek ___________________

Since the feuds and dissensions in my parish, the church was almost deserted, and left chiefly to myself, my clerk, and a few poor people, who, for the most part, were in ill favour in the chapels.

One day I was absorbed in writing, or rather rewriting, a text over the porch door of the church. It was, "This is none other but the house of G.o.d, and this is the gate of heaven." A man who was standing at the foot of the ladder said, "Heaven is a long way from that gate, I reckon." I pretended not to hear him, but his speech stuck to me. I knew only too well from this, and many other indications, that the people had no respect for the church under my ministrations.

CHAPTER 5

The New Parish, 1846.