Transcriber Note
Obvious typos, missing accent marks and punctuation errors corrected.
Inconsistencies in hyphenation, spelling, translation and dates left as
in the original.
Two of the three items noted in the Corrigenda changed. The third item,
(p. 48, line 24, omit “is.”), was not changed because there was no
such word on that line.
A maltese cross character, ✠, is used in the Appendices. If the font in
use on the device does not support this character, it may not display
correctly.
Italic text is represented by underscores surrounding the _italic
text_.
Small capitals have been converted to ALL CAPS.
Footnotes have been moved to the end of their respective chapters.
Superscript characters are preceded by a ^ character.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE CELTIC CHRISTIANITY
OF CORNWALL
------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE
CELTIC CHRISTIANITY
OF CORNWALL
DIVERS SKETCHES AND STUDIES
BY
THOMAS TAYLOR, M.A., F.S.A.
VICAR OF ST. JUST-IN-PENWITH
AUTHOR OF “THE LIFE OF DR. TAYLOR OF ASHBURNE”
LONGMANS, GREEN AND CO.
39 PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON
FOURTH AVENUE & 30TH STREET, NEW YORK
BOMBAY, CALCUTTA AND MADRAS
1916
------------------------------------------------------------------------
TO
M. JOSEPH LOTH
PROFESSEUR AU COLLÈGE DE FRANCE
IN GRATEFUL RECOGNITION OF A FRIENDSHIP
FROM WHICH I HAVE REAPED THE
FRUITS OF DISCIPLESHIP
Sed quanquam utilitates multae et magnae
consecutae sunt, non sunt tamen ab earum spe
causae diligendi profectae.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
PREFACE
In one of the most brilliant of modern books its author[1] calls
attention to the common fallacy which assumes that “if you can find a
principle which gives an adequate explanation of three different facts
it is more likely to correspond with the truth than three different
principles which give adequate explanations of the same facts
severally.”
This fallacy underlies much that is being urged in favour of a common
origin for religious doctrines and methods of worship. A single source
of religious belief or of religious phenomena is preferred to several
sources as being more tidy and more in keeping with what we have learnt
to expect in other departments of research. It may be illogical, but
still it is recommended as a safe guide to the truth.
Indeed, it is difficult for a modern student to conceive how any real
advance can be made in scientific pursuits unless the principle, which
prefers one explanation of phenomena to many, is favoured.
Before the days of Kepler and of Newton it may have been possible, it
may be possible still, to imagine more than one explanation of the fall
of a heavy body to the ground and of the action of one inert mass upon
another. The law of gravity, as elaborated by Newton, represents what,
so far as we know, has invariably happened and what we believe will
invariably happen in space between two or more bodies, namely, that they
will, as heretofore, each attract all the other bodies directly as their
mass and inversely as the square of their distance. This law is not
merely preferred before all other laws; it is the very foundation of the
whole of what is called Physical Astronomy. It is a law to which there
are, within its own province, no known exceptions.
We accept this law not because we prefer one explanation to many, but
because it meets not only the requirements of cases which might
conceivably be explained in other ways but also the requirements of
cases for which no other explanation has been suggested or conceived.
Among laws, which are not received as self-evident, the law of gravity
is unique. This will be clear to anyone who contrasts the secure
position which it occupies with the perilous position occupied by laws
which have been formulated within recent years.
Men do not prefer Newton’s explanation to other explanations: the
evidence in its favour is so overwhelming that they feel compelled to
accept it.
It is far otherwise with other laws like evolution. These fascinate or
repel from the very first. Preference undoubtedly enters into the
complex intellectual process which leads us first to accept and then to
defend this or that explanation of an array of facts. And this
preference, admittedly illogical, may arise from our limited knowledge
of the facts or from regard for some particular protagonist of one of
many conflicting theories; but, other things being equal, it seizes hold
of that explanation which claims to cover the most ground and to
reconcile the largest number of facts. It only becomes mischievous when
it claims infallibility.
It is perhaps too readily assumed that in the domain of religious
phenomena there is a law by which these phenomena are bounded and
conditioned. Assuming such a law to exist, the attempts to formulate it
will be directed in a greater or less degree by preference. For
religious phenomena, by which is here meant the outward manifestations
of religions, cannot be examined and classified, without a comprehensive
knowledge of the religions themselves. And if, as a French writer has
contended, “the man who would write the history of a religion must
believe it no longer but must have believed it once,” it follows that
few persons, even in this versatile age, can claim to be proficient in
more than three or four religions. From which it also follows that lack
of knowledge must be supplied by fertility of imagination or by the
exercise of preference on the part of him who employs the comparative
method in order to discover the law.
And yet, it is only by eliminating this personal element and by
confining our attention to material which is neither inaccurate nor
defective that we can hope to arrive at the truth. It must be confessed
that the rough and ready generalisations with which we are so familiar
in this connection and the lack of care which is taken in gathering and
sifting the materials upon which they are based, almost lead us to
despair of useful results. The attempt to evolve a law from insufficient
data is like an attempt to measure volume in terms of two dimensions or
like an attempt to classify animals without an intimate knowledge of
them. A salamander has four legs and a tail: so has a sheep. A zoology
based on these criteria alone would not carry us very far. The biologist
might kindly step in with his law of evolution and say some soothing
words respecting their common origin, but we should leave off where we
began and know no more of those animals than we did at the start,
namely, that they each have four legs and a tail.[2]
In studying religions those points of resemblance which are most obvious
are sometimes the most misleading. And for this reason. The essence of a
religion—what may be called its soul—is not always revealed in its
methods of worship. This is said to be especially true of Buddhism, at
least by those writers who, like Mr. Feilding, strive to commend it to
the Western world. Certainly it is no disparagement of a true religion
that it should have, in the department of worship, many points in common
with a false one. Every religion requires some machinery if it is to do
its work. And it is more true to say of religions that they agree in
machinery but differ in what they teach than to say that they agree in
what they teach but differ in machinery. It would be most untrue,
nevertheless, to assert that these common elements have always been
acquired in the same way or have meant the same thing or have been used
with the same object. Before any deductions whatever can be legitimately
drawn the religious phenomena must be submitted to the most rigorous
scrutiny. Dates, places, distances count for more, whether the phenomena
be prehistoric or historic, than almost anything save accurate
definition. This will be clear if we take an imaginary case. Let us
consider the eagle as an object of worship. In the year 4000 A.D. a
popular archæologist of liberal views notes the immense number of brass
eagles which are unearthed from beneath the sites of ancient churches,
and inasmuch as no mention is made in history and no rubric is to be
found in any of the old service books of the function assigned to the
image of the king of birds, he comes to the conclusion that the
Christians of the Victorian era were, in spite of much quarrelling
concerning the point of the compass towards which the priest should
stand at the altar and the use of lights and incense, united at least on
one point—the worship of the eagle. He reflects that reverence for the
eagle was as dear to the hearts of Roman soldiers as it was abhorrent to
the Jews. He recalls the incident at Cæsarea. He does not forget that
long after the Roman Empire had ceased to be an important factor in
European politics the Jews were regarded with unreasoning hatred.
Putting two and two together he comes to the conclusion that Christians,
in order to emphasise their contempt for Jewish susceptibilities,
admitted into their religious system the cult of the eagle and that this
cult attained its high-water mark in the nineteenth century. If it be
objected that such a notion is altogether preposterous and absurd, that
it is, in fact, an insult to average intelligence to attempt to
influence human judgment by a fiction so transparent, it ought to be
sufficient to recall the erudite expositions of rock basins, stone
circles and dolmens which, elaborated by men of the highest eminence,
were welcomed as brilliant discoveries by a generation by no means
remote. It is a common enough practice, but it serves no useful purpose
to hold up the wisdom of one age to the scorn of another. There are two
cautions which are needed in all ages; the first, that eminence in one
department of human learning does not, of itself, constitute a
qualification to pass authoritative judgments in other departments; the
second, that as all knowledge, when unhindered, is progressive the
present generation may indeed hope to have got somewhat nearer the truth
than its predecessors, but in virtue of the same principle it is still
far from its final stage.
Archæology which at the beginning of the nineteenth century could hardly
claim to be regarded as a science, had by the end of that century
attained to the highest rank as a science. It has not outlived the
record of past mistakes and some years may yet have to elapse before its
achievements are fully recognised.
It is impossible to discuss the Christianity of Cornwall in its earlier
stages without devoting some space to its Celtic inhabitants. This is
all the more necessary because in the county there are many monuments,
both pagan and Christian, and in some quarters there has been a
disposition to confound them. Only by referring the pagan monuments to
their true place in pre-history is it possible to avoid this confusion.
For such knowledge as he possesses of archæology the writer is largely
indebted to M. Joseph Déchelette’s _Manuel d’Archéologie_. There is no
work in English which, based on sound principles, attempts, as this
does, to cover the whole ground. Like the _Principles of Geology_ the
_Manuel_ stands alone.
When the losses in human life, due to the Great War, come to be reckoned
up and those losses come to be analysed, there will be few names to take
precedence of that of M. Déchelette. The _Revue Celtique_, after
expressing its profound regret for his death, says that after honouring
France by solid and learned works, notably by his _Manuel
d’Archéologie_—a unique monument of erudition—at the age of fifty-three,
though not compelled to serve in the army, he chose to take part in the
campaign and to die like a hero. An order of the day of the French army
supplies particulars of his death. He was a captain in the 29th Regiment
of infantry and was shot down while leading his company. With his men he
had won 800 metres of ground. As he lay dying he asked his colonel
whether they had kept the conquered ground, and being answered in the
affirmative, he replied that he was happy that his death was of service
to France. The writer finely adds, _Belle vie, et fin plus belle
encore_.
In a small book like the present, there will necessarily be many points
which deserve some fuller explanation than was possible, while here and
there some points will seem to be unduly magnified. The chapter on St.
Michael’s Mount might, at first sight, seem to add little to the main
subject, but in this case it was not so much the hope of gain as the
fear of loss which had to be considered. Should the reader meet with
phrases and expressions which appear to him inconsistent with a serious
treatment of the subject the writer can only crave his indulgence and
assure him that they were not altogether unprovoked.
Chapter III was in substance contributed to the _Truro Diocesan
Magazine_; Chapter IV was read at a conference of the Kirrier Rural
Deanery; Chapters V and VI were printed concurrently in the _Revue
Celtique_ and the _Journal of the Royal Institution of Cornwall_. For
permission to reprint them their author tenders his thanks to those
journals.
Besides the _Manuel d’Archéologie_ there are two other works to which he
is much indebted, Dom Gougaud’s _Chrétientés Celtiques_ and Miss Clay’s
_Hermits and Anchorites of England_. No better introduction to Celtic
Christianity could be desired than Dom Gougaud’s book. Miss Clay has
treated her subject with a particularity which is as rare as it is
valuable, and although her book furnished little material for the
present work, it was of great value in supplying the cartography of an
unfamiliar region.
To Professor J. Loth and to Mr. H. Jenner, F.S.A., his obligations are
of a more personal character and therefore more difficult to express. To
both of them, in all matters which concern Celtic language and
literature, he stands in the relation of pupil to master. As such he
acknowledges gratefully their friendly and patient guidance and ever
ready help.
It should be needless to add that in so doing he has no wish to shelter
himself behind great names. For all blundering and backsliding he and he
alone is responsible, inasmuch as throughout the perilous adventure he
has cheerfully bestridden his own beast.
-----
Footnote 1:
R. A. Knox, _Some Loose Stones_, p. 89.
Footnote 2:
A friend of mine performed the surprising feat of evolving an entire
system—god, religion, worshippers and all—out of much less than four
legs and a tail. His only material consisted of a word, half-obsolete,
of uncertain derivation and meaning. The jaw-bone in the hands of
Samson was as nothing compared with the magic of this word in the mind
of the valiant expositor of prehistoric religions. While reading the
paper in which he proclaimed his discovery to a learned society, one
could not fail to note the profound impression which it made upon the
hearers or to admire the transparent sincerity of the reader.
It will not surprise those who read this book to learn that its author
spent some portion of the wakeful night which followed the reading of
the paper in the composition of a simple liturgy to crown his friend’s
achievement.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. COINCIDENCE AND RESEMBLANCE 1
Often misleading. The Eucharist. Christian
Passover a development of the Jewish and its
origin to be sought in primitive Israel. Ancillary
Christian Festivals. Direct and Collateral
descent. St. Patrick’s fire.
II. THE CELTS 18
Prehistoric Remains in Cornwall. Ligurians,
Iberians, and Celts. No trace of Phœnicians.
Celtic worship. The Druids. Fetich worship.
Cornish crosses.
III. CORNWALL AND BRITTANY 37
Dumnonian Exodus. Breton nobles in the Conqueror’s
army. _Tristan and Iseult._ Henry the Eighth’s
subsidy roll. Mystery and Morality Plays.
IV. THE CELTIC CHRISTIANITY OF CORNWALL 50
Language. Isolation of Cornwall. Monasticism.
Church Dedications. Easter and Tonsure
controversies.
V. THE MONASTERY-BISHOPRICS OF CORNWALL 58
Celtic Monasticism _sui generis_. Episcopacy.
Gildas, Kenstec, and Plegmund. Athelstan. Bodmin
Gospels. Lyfing. Leofric. See of Exeter.
VI. EVOLUTION OF THE DIOCESAN BISHOPRIC 70
Episcopal manors in Domesday Book—their sources
and their value. Three important holdings—Pawton,
St. Germans, and Gerrans. Independent of each
other. All of them sees of Celtic bishops. Kerrier
and Penwith.
VII. CORNISH SAINTS 90
Not topological or eponymous. St. Ia, St. Dennis,
St. Allen, St. Paul, and St. Buryan. Lives of the
Saints. Religion of the Cornish.
VIII. ANCIENT RELIGIOUS HOUSES 104
Celtic or English? _Monasticon_ and Domesday Book
examined. Conversion of Celtic monasteries to
Norman establishments. St. Kew. Summary of
results.
IX. CORNISH HERMITS 122
St. Guron. The Three Brothers. St. Neot. Ogrin.
Andrew Paugan. SS. Philip and Robert. Roger
Godman. Cecilia and Lucy Moys. The Hermit of St.
Teath. Margaret of Bodmin. Roche Rock.
X. ST. MICHAEL’S MOUNT 141
Ictis. Dinsul. Mons Tumba. Cult of St. Michael.
Pre-Norman origin of the monastery. Examination of
Charters and Domesday extracts. Identification of
St. Michael’s lands. The Meneage. William of
Worcester.
APPENDICES
A. EXTRACT FROM _VITA SAMSONIS_ 169
B. EDWARD THE CONFESSOR’S CHARTER 172
C. THE COUNT OF MORTAIN’S CHARTER 173
D. ERECTION OF ST. MICHAEL’S PRIORY BY ABBOT BERNARD 175
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CORRIGENDA
p. xv, last line but one, for “Each” read “All.”
p. 48, line 22, for “but which, as” read “when.”
p. 48, line 24, omit “is.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE CELTIC CHRISTIANITY
OF CORNWALL
I
COINCIDENCE AND RESEMBLANCE
The tyranny of observed coincidence and resemblance over the human mind
is very remarkable, especially when coincidence and resemblance are
associated with traditional sayings and superstitions.
Thirteen persons sit round a dinner table. When dinner is over the
discovery is made that they were thirteen in number and the diners
reflect that, according to the ancient fiction, one of them at least
will die within the year. During the year one of them dies, as an
insurance agent would have told them was extremely probable. A
succession of such coincidences does not lead them to study the
insurance tables, or to calculate the expectation of life; it only helps
to confirm the superstition.
The sight of one magpie by the road-side alarms: the sight of two
encourages. At the end of the day the single magpie is recalled when
reckoning up the day’s disappointments.
The devout Christian believer is not more prone to superstition than
others. A man lay dying of consumption at St. Just. He was a crack rifle
shot, an unbeliever and inclined to suicide. He insisted upon having his
rifle by him as he lay in bed and, for the sake of peace, his wife
allowed it. A single magpie came and perched daily on the hedge outside
his bedroom window. One day seizing his weapon and steadying it on his
knee as he lay there, he shot the magpie. The death of the solitary bird
brought peace and all thought of suicide was banished and forgotten. The
above are examples of superstition in the sense in which the word is
here used.
But the shepherd’s proverb:
“A rainbow in the morning is the shepherd’s warning:
A rainbow at night is the shepherd’s delight.”
and the fisherman’s
“When the wind is in the south
It blows your bait into the fish’s mouth.”
are based upon sound observation and contain no taint of superstition;
they could doubtless be referred to recognised scientific principles.
Again, the study of biology has led men to look, not in vain, for
resemblances between the gills of a fish and the lungs of a mammal,
between the hands of a man and the forefeet of a quadruped. Postulating
the theory of evolution a common origin is discovered in either case.
The prehensile and tentacular movements of certain plants call to mind
the like movements of certain fishes. Whether by means of the same
theory, with the aid of the accredited results of research, they can be
held to have had a common origin; whether, for example, they can be
referred to some such quality or instinct as that which characterises
the _Proteus animalcule_ is perhaps an open question. It seems, however,
quite clear that these blind, involuntary movements on the part of
fishes are not derived from the similar movements of plants or vice
versâ, but that, if a common origin is to be found, it must be sought in
some very early stage before animal and vegetable became differentiated.
The evolution hypothesis, whether it be regarded as proved or unproved,
is in any case invaluable because it stimulates thought, observation,
and research. By means of it knowledge becomes coherent, articulate,
scientific.
The application of this principle to religion is becoming more and more
the vogue, and, provided that its adherents are content to work on the
same lines as the students of physical science, there is no reason why
useful results should not be obtained. There is, however, a tendency to
transmute this working hypothesis into a superstition which, in point of
sanity, is only comparable to that of the number thirteen and that of
the single magpie—the superstition, in short, which notes coincidences
and resemblances and ignores their opposites.
It is by no means clear that resemblance of rite and ceremonial and
coincidence in point of time of calendared festivals furnish the proper
material from which to formulate the law and to determine the source of
religious observance. For example, however we may judge of the Salvation
Army, it is obvious that a very different principle underlies and
animates Mr. Booth’s following from that which inspires the soldiers of
King George. Military organisation merely suggested a useful and
convenient form of discipline. In this case resemblance is utterly
misleading, and the archæologist of the distant future, who should argue
that the venerated coat of the General, supposing it to have been
preserved, points to some mad but futile attempt to repeat the religious
conquests of Mahomet, would be quite as wide of the truth as he who
should seek the General’s prototype in the militant ecclesiastic of the
Middle Ages.
A further danger attends the student of religions. This arises from
prepossession rather than from hypothesis and leads him to mistake
deduction for induction. He finds, we will suppose, what he takes to be
a latchkey. It is an instrument considerably the worse for wear and of a
somewhat unusual pattern. He is quite certain it is a key. There is no
room for doubt. He determines to find a lock which it will fit. Starting
with the key he examines locks prehistoric, mediæval and modern, but all
in vain, for the simple reason that the implement in his hands is not a
key at all but the head of a fish spear.
It is not the critical method of induction but the uncritical method of
deduction which is to be reprobated. When, for example, we discover by
observation, the practical universality of sacrifice as a distinguishing
mark of religion, we may explain the fact in a dozen different ways, but
in every case we are compelled to recognise the belief in a God of some
sort, and when we find that generally, at some stage of religious
development, sacrifice is offered by way of propitiation, we are led to
the conclusion that safety and salvation were held to be only possible
by atonement. We have before us a multitude of locks and one key fits
them all, and we are therefore led to conclude that _au fond_ offence
and sacrifice are related as poison to antidote. When, however, we
descend to particulars, resemblances and coincidences are found to be as
misleading as the salvationist’s tunic. Their evidential value, to use a
threadbare but useful phrase, is infinitesimally small and sometimes a
negative quantity.
Relying upon resemblance, a person might be led to conclude that it was
the spring turnip which suggested the shape of the watch and the duck’s
egg the morphology of toilet soaps.
Utility and convenience have entered largely into the ritual systems of
all religions. The same accessories are required for the worship of Baal
as for the worship of Jehovah. To identify Baal with Jehovah is to beg
the question and to fall a victim to the tyranny of coincidence and
resemblance.
When attempts are made to discover a common origin for the Christian
Eucharist, the Aztec communion described by Prescott, and the ceremonial
eating and drinking practised by the worshippers of Mithras, it is often
assumed that the closer the ritual resemblance between them the stronger
the argument in favour of a common origin. It does not seem to have
occurred to the maintainers of this hypothesis that public worship, of
whatsoever kind it may be, finds expression in a symbolism of its own,
just as thought expresses itself in speech and in written language. The
fact that Christianity expressed itself in symbol and sacrament does
prove that from the very first it claimed to be a religion and not a
mere philosophy or school of thought, but it does not prove identity of
origin or of intention with the pagan religions which employed the same
or similar symbolism. It was inevitable that the Christian Passover
should have been singled out in order to illustrate the prepossession
that in origin it is essentially pagan. In this case, however, it is not
resemblance but coincidence (in point of time) which is supposed to
afford the ground of proof. One writer, at least, who rightly connects
it with the Jewish Passover, in order to exhibit its sacrificial
character,[3] does not hesitate to refer its origin to the worship of
Attis or Tammuz, the earth-god, on the ground that the time of its
occurrence roughly coincides with the solemnities of Attis. No better
illustration of the tyranny of observed coincidence could be found than
in his ingenious but futile attempt to apply the principle to Cornwall.
His object is to identify the May-day festivities, which he conceives to
be a survival of Beltane solemnities, with those of the Christian
Passover. Unfortunately for him the latter festival occurs too early; it
can never occur later than the twenty-fifth of April. But he has read of
Little Easter, which occurs a week later, and attributing to the Cornish
a preference for a réchauffé of the Easter banquet to the banquet
itself—a preference for which no reasons are vouchsafed—he concludes
that Little Easter is the Cornish equivalent of the Beltane Feast. It
might have occurred to the maintainer of this opinion to test it by
means of the same calculations which forbade the synchronising of Easter
itself with the pagan solemnity. Had he done so he would have found that
Little Easter (Paskbian) or Low Sunday occurs in May only once in sixty
or seventy years, and on May-day less than once in a century.[4] A
coincidence which occurs once in a century does not convince the writer
and will hardly convince the reader of the identity of the Celtic feast
of Beltane with the Christian Passover, or even with the Low Sunday
celebration at Lostwithiel described by Richard Carew, the historian.[5]
It is impossible, without destroying the character of this enquiry, to
consider the Christian Passover in all its bearings upon the subject
before us, but a few remarks are needed in order to place it in a right
relation to the more ancient solemnity from which incidentally it
sprang.
The Jewish Passover was kept at the time of the first full moon which
followed the vernal equinox. The primitive Christians of Asia Minor,
claiming for precedent the practice of St. John the Divine, commemorated
our Saviour’s Passion on the same day as the Passover and His
Resurrection on the third day after. Thus it frequently happened that
the very event which had led to the observance of the first day of the
week as the Christian Sabbath had its yearly commemoration on some day
which was not the Christian Sabbath. On the other hand, the Christians
at Rome, following as they believed the practice of St. Paul, kept not
only the weekly but also the yearly feast of the Resurrection on the
first day of the week and the anniversary of the Passion on the third
day before, in other words they kept their Paschal feast as we do now on
the first day of the week which occurred next after the first full moon
following the Spring equinox. The origin and signification of the feast
were the same for both Eastern and Western Christians. It was the
Christian Passover (_Pascha_) and was known by that name. The ancient
Cornish word for it was Pask. In North Staffordshire forty years ago it
was the custom, and it is probably still the custom, for bands of men
and maidens to solicit Pace (Pasch) eggs. The use of the term Easter, of
Saxon origin, is merely a proof of the stubborn independence of the
English character which refused to receive not only the names of the
days of the week but also of the Christian seasons from the Latin. The
coincidence in point of time of the Paschal feast with a pagan feast, if
such coincidence can be discovered, was purely accidental; and the same
can be said of Ascension, Pentecost and all other movable feasts which
are ancillary to or supplementary of it. In this connection it is
noteworthy that throughout the bitter controversy, dating from an
amicable discussion held in the year 162 when Polycarp, bishop of
Smyrna, paid a visit to Anicetus, bishop of Rome until the sixth
century, it never occurred to either party to suggest a pagan origin for
the feast or to connect the time of its celebration with nature or
nature worship.[6] As the commemoration of a notable historical
event—the Resurrection of Jesus Christ—it was observed by East and West,
just as the Jewish Passover was observed as the anniversary of the
“self-same day that the Lord did bring the children of Israel out of
Egypt by their armies,” and of that hurried meal of which a lamb of the
first year and unleavened bread were the more important constituent
elements. In the Bible and in the Primitive Church the two feasts are so
closely linked together that, in order to demonstrate identity of origin
for the Christian Passover and the feast of Tammuz the earth-god, it
will be necessary to show that the Jewish Passover derived its _raison
d’être_ from the same source as the worship of Tammuz. That any such
source has been found or that any connection has been found, or will be
found, is not to be taken for granted. The connection between the Jewish
and the Christian Pascha is not open to dispute. Had the Christian
Church repudiated the Pascha and kept a festival of the Resurrection
entirely distinct from it, something might have been urged in favour of
a pagan origin. It is the indissolubility of their union which forbids
any such interpretation.
The writer has no desire to be regarded as an obscurantist and, for this
reason if for no other, he offers to the students of folklore in general
and to all deductive philosophers obsessed with the unique evidential
value of coincidence and resemblance in particular, the following facts,
for the authenticity of which he is prepared to vouch whenever he is
required so to do. He believes that when their import is fully grasped
they will carry, to the minds of the said philosophers to whom the
discovery, never previously announced, is humbly but confidently
dedicated, the conviction that not in Asia, the accredited home of
mystery, not in Africa the cradle of theologies old and new, not in
America the foster mother of science Christian and otherwise, but in
Australia will be found the true origin of the Easter festival and its
ceremonial. He regrets that his command of scientific language is
unequal to the task which a discovery of such absorbing interest and
far-reaching possibility demands. He therefore craves the indulgence of
the learned for expressing himself in terms which he hopes will be
intelligible to learned and unlearned alike.
In the low-lying land which borders Halifax Bay in the colony of
Queensland there is to be found an edible root called the bulgaroo
which, at the time of the European Spring equinox, after the heavy rains
which begin in the month of February, betrays its presence by sending
forth shoots of a bright and tender green colour. For some occult reason
this root is preferred by the aboriginal inhabitants to the choicest
delicacies which the white man, notwithstanding his cultivated taste in
the matter of food and drink, can supply. Accordingly every year the
black man, if employed, seeks his master’s permission for a month’s
sojourn in the land of the bulgaroo. It is well known to all who have
lived in Queensland that the black man is a keen observer of the
heavenly bodies and is much distressed by the sight of an eclipse of the
sun or moon, from which it may be inferred that he rejoices when the sun
and moon are not obscured. Whether, strictly speaking, he can be
described as a sun worshipper has not been determined, but it is
believed that the disclosure of these particulars will help incidentally
to solve this as well as the larger problem under discussion. The
coincidence of the Spring equinox with the resurrection of the said
bulgaroo from its dark retreat under the earth, and of both events with
the assembling of the aboriginal tribes and of their partaking together
of what may not unfitly be described as the root of ages (for in all
probability we have here a vegetable food known to the black man’s
ancestors long before they emerged from a pre-human archetype); above
all, the addition to the bulgaroo banquet of human flesh whenever it may
be safely had, and the marked preference for those portions of the human
body which, like the heart, are essential to life, and therefore, as
they suppose, are the better fitted to stimulate and increase the
eater’s physical courage and efficiency; to which must also be added the
attendant dance and song of corroboree and the more secret and
mysterious bora meeting whereat, after due proof has been given, both
oral and experimental of the candidate’s fortitude, he is admitted to
the full privileges of manhood by a solemn rite of initiation: all these
ceremonial acts, whose significance it is impossible to misinterpret and
to exaggerate, strengthened and not weakened (as might be supposed by a
superficial observer) by the fact that at the antipodes Spring
synchronises with European Autumn, establish a strong presumption that
the continent of Australia affords the veritable solution of the great
problem of the origin of Christian ceremonial observance. Nor is this
surprising when we remember that according to an eminent German
archæologist, Dr. Buttel-Reepen,[7] the Australian aborigines are the
direct descendants of the propithecanthropi, i.e. pre-ape-men or common
progenitors of apes and men, “since their foot had not yet undergone the
definite change from a grasping organ to a supporting apparatus.” Nay
more, when we reflect that from the great concourse of pre-men one huge
horde poured away in the direction of Africa, some of its members
pursuing their wanderings through generations, until they eventually
reached Europe across a bridge of land that then united the two
continents; being accompanied in their migration by the pre-glacial
fauna, the _Elephas antiquus_, _Rhinoceros merckii_ and other great
beasts whose fossilised remains bear witness of this emigration, we are
driven to conclude that throughout incalculable periods of time, from
the Tertiary era at least, when, according to Dr. Woodward, man was
already emerging from his pre-ape condition, down through the ages,
palæolithic, neolithic, bronze, and iron, across continents which have
been overwhelmed or refashioned, this simple meal of bulgaroo has
persistently held its ground and won its triumphs in the social and
afterwards in the religious life, pagan and Christian, of man as he has
progressed steadily but surely from generation to generation.
Absurd as the foregoing presentment of a few, plain verifiable facts
will appear to the reader, it is neither more absurd nor more wildly
fantastic than much that passes for penetration with those who allow
themselves to become the slaves of resemblance and coincidence. So far
as the bulgaroo feast is concerned, it would be possible to write in the
same grandiloquent manner and with an equal amount of wisdom of a
beanfeast at Blackpool.
To resume. The deductive philosopher having identified the Christian
Passover, which in England is commonly known as Easter and which always
occurs in March or April, with the Celtic feast of Beltane which always
occurs in May, it would be strange if he did not discover a pagan
archetype for Christmas.
In this case both coincidence and resemblance point to the birthday of
Mithras the Persian sun-god whose worship was introduced at Rome in the
time of the Emperors. Is it unfair to remark that here conviction is
rendered doubly certain by reason of the fact that the date of the
earliest Christian observance of the Christmas festival is somewhat
obscure? We know that it originated at a very early period and that the
Alexandrians and the Churches of Palestine kept it, until the year 428,
at Epiphany[8] and not on the 25th of December. Clement of Alexandria,
who died about A.D. 220, refers to calculations of the year and day of
the Lord’s nativity not to encourage but to caution. It is noteworthy,
however, that he gives no hint of the danger which might arise from the
possibility of its being confounded with pagan celebrations of like
nature. It is well known that a festival of the sun was held at the time
of the winter solstice (_dies natalis invicti solis_), but it is equally
well known that the early fathers never ceased to warn the people
against confounding Christian festivals with pagan.[9]
Having satisfied himself that the keeping of Christmas originated in sun
worship at the winter solstice, our philosopher would hardly do himself
justice did he not discover a similar explanation of the commemoration
of the birthday of St. John the Baptist at Midsummer. The ordinary
uninstructed Christian would probably argue, and to better purpose, that
if you keep the Saviour’s birthday on the 25th of December you ought to
keep the Baptist’s birthday on the 24th of June, because the latter was
six months older than the former.[10]
It is possible that pagan rites may have become associated with the
Christian festival, but in Cornwall the Midsummer fires do not appear to
have been so associated. Whatever their origin may be, there is no
evidence that they have at any time entered into the Christian system.
The position for which, in the interests of truth, it seems vital to
contend may be illustrated by citing a familiar episode from the life of
St. Patrick—the episode of the Paschal fire. There is indisputable
evidence that, from the days of the Emperor Constantine (A.D. 274-337)
at least, Easter was distinguished by the Christian Church from other
festivals by the lighting of fires or tapers to signify the rising of
Christ from the dead to give light to the world. When St. Patrick
arrived at the hill of Slane, in sight of Tara, on the eve of the
Christian Passover, he set about preparing for that great solemnity. He
lighted the sacred fire. But it so happened that the then pagan Irish
were, at that moment, equally intent upon keeping a festival of their
own, and that their festival also involved the observance of a similar
ceremony. They, too, had a fire to light, and the act of lighting by
anyone except King Leoghaire himself, or by one of his ministers at a
signal given by him, was punishable with death. St. Patrick in ignorance
of the prohibition lighted his fire first, and the fire was seen by the
King and his subjects at Tara. He would doubtless have acted as he did
had he known of the edict; but it was, as events soon showed, this
particular transgression, insignificant enough in itself, which at once
brought about the collision between him and Leoghaire.
St. Patrick manifestly was not consciously observing a practice of pagan
origin. Whatever thoughts, memories or associations his fire kindled
within him they were definitely Christian. We are not told what meaning
the King’s fire had for _him_. The casual onlooker would probably have
seen little to choose between the one fire and the other: he might
conceivably have regarded them as expressive of one and the same
intention. Had a modern philosopher been present he would almost
inevitably have discerned a common origin and therefore a more or less
near relationship. Yet both would have been wrong; the first, because
the motives and intentions of Patrick and Leoghaire were _not_ the same;
the second, because until a common origin has been shown any inference
derived from similarity of ceremonial is apt to be misleading however
reasonable it may seem.
An inference is misleading when it carries with it consequences which
are irrelevant to the main facts upon which it is founded.
You cannot say that because the Christians used fire in their worship at
Easter and the pagans also used fire in their worship, therefore the
Christians adopted the practice from the pagans; still less can you say
that Easter originated in a pagan festival. All you can say is that
fire, as an accessory of worship, was used by both, just as prayer was
also so used by both. The paraphernalia (using the term in a neutral
sense) of two religions may be precisely alike, while the religions
themselves may be as wide as the poles asunder. And the complaint one
has to make against much that is brought forward as evidence of a common
origin for customs, both religious and secular, is that it is not
evidence at all, and that though it be repeated or multiplied a
thousandfold, it follows the familiar rule of mathematics and amounts to
nothing. Even when legitimate inferences have been drawn from groups of
observed facts, it is by no means uncommon to find them so manipulated
by writers as to convey wrong and erroneous impressions. Having regard
to the laws of the physical growth and development of organic matter and
to other considerations of a more technical character it may be
considered a legitimate inference that men and apes are descended from a
common ancestor, but it is a misrepresentation of the inference to say
that it implies that men are descended from apes. For although it may be
a source of comfort to all English-speaking people to believe that their
ancestors “either came in with William the Conqueror or went out in the
_Mayflower_,” it is clearly impossible for them to believe that they can
all trace their descent either from George the Third on the one hand, or
from George Washington on the other. A genealogical enthusiast may
perhaps be pardoned for seeking to embrace as many of the elect as
possible in his family tree, because even in his moments of deepest
depression he can point to Adam as the common ancestor. The student of
religions in like manner may be pardoned for desiring to express in
tabular form the successive stages through which doctrines and rites
have passed; have been developed, arrested, modified, governed and
conditioned. But neither the genealogist nor the religious philosopher
can be pardoned for mistaking a collateral for a direct ancestor.
The Christian Church has, with generous and ready welcome, received into
her bosom all that could produce credentials of kinship, holding nothing
as common or unclean, however unworthy its associations and however
perverted its use in the past. Painting, music, poetry, drama,
philosophy, architecture, ritual, organisation, each has found a place
and received a fresh consecration as the result of its admission to the
embrace of the true mother of them all. Only one barrier has she
interposed—the barrier of heresy. She has always insisted that the
postulant’s real intentions should be clearly known. By sacrament,
creed, and confession she has exercised every precaution to secure peace
within her sacred walls. She has sacrificed popularity, endured
persecution, incurred hatred in order that all her children should share
the same affections, should speak the same things and think the same
thoughts. This has ever been and is still her great offence, her
unpardonable sin, in the eyes of those outside her communion, viz. that
she has been so uncompromisingly true to herself. For this reason it
might have been thought superfluous, or at any rate a more or less
academic matter, to discuss the origin of her symbolism and its
affinities. The human mind, however, almost inevitably, refuses to admit
the appropriateness of a newly imported symbol unless its past
associations are free from suspicion. Not only so, the student of
religions obsessed with the superlative value of resemblance and
coincidence, is apt to suppose that if he can show that the
paraphernalia of Christian worship approximately resembles that of some
pagan religion he has proved identity of intention and belief.
By way of reply it would be possible to argue, with greater force and to
better purpose, that historically it can be shown that Christian worship
would be, at this time, fuller, richer, more ornate, more attractive and
possibly not less true to its supreme purpose if larger use had been
made of the common sources of religious ceremonial. The history of
heresy is, however, a sufficient refutation of the main contention. An
examination of some particular forms which the pagan theory has assumed
in relation to Cornwall will be given later on.
-----
Footnote 3:
R. A. Courtney, _The Hill and the Circle_, p. 15.
Footnote 4:
Between the years 1854 and 1930, inclusive, Little Easter occurs
once—on the 2nd of May, 1886.
Footnote 5:
Quoted in the _Parochial History of Cornwall_, iii., 175.
Footnote 6:
The Celtic controversy respecting the incidence of the Christian
Passover was concerned solely with astronomical calculations and has,
of course, no bearing upon the matter here under discussion.
Footnote 7:
Buttel-Reepen, _Man and His Forerunners_, pp. 72-3.
Footnote 8:
The Armenians still keep the Nativity on the 6th of January.
Footnote 9:
The subject is fully dealt with by Neander; _Church History_ (Bohn’s
ed.), vol. ii., pp. 419-48.
Footnote 10:
He would be led so to argue by reflecting that in the Church’s
Kalendar Ascension and Pentecost are similarly related to the Paschal
Feast and Annunciation to Christmas.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
II
THE CELTS
It is almost, if not quite, impossible to acquire a right perspective of
the position which the Celts occupy in British history without examining
the incidence of that position and some of its relationships by the
light of the results of modern archæological research.
In Cornwall, as elsewhere, the prehistoric races which inhabited the
county before the Celts appeared have left abundant evidence of their
presence. That evidence, however, will be hard to discover in the warp
and bent of character and in the physical development which doubtless
all Englishmen have in some measure inherited from them, and towards
which these extremely remote ancestors have to some slight extent
contributed. We shall probably never know enough about any of them so as
to be in a position to say of any one living in the county as we might
say, for example, of an Irishman “that splendid act of daring or that
hairbrained escapade must be set down to his Irish breeding.” Yet,
inasmuch as no one supposes that an incoming race commonly extirpates
the race it supplants there is always the suspicion that the new race
may have yielded to the moral influence or to the religious atmosphere
of the old. History supplies us with instances of this triumph of
spiritual over physical force, Christianity itself being the most
striking instance of all.