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
PIRANUS." 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 Institution, Truro, which I did; illustrating 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 manuscript 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-shore,+ near a spring or well,
where he baptized his converts. Close by, he built this little church,
in which he worshipped God 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-shells 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 God; 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 assert 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 illustrations, 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 gods. 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-god 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 title 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 God, the heavenly Jerusalem, and to an
innumerable company of angels, to the general assembly and church of the
first-born, which are written in heaven, and to God 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 God! 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 God,
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 "bass 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 manuscript when I heard a voice say, "Now we will go." With
this, the "bass 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
God, or raised from death into life, though nominally, in the words of
the Catechism, he has "been made a child of God."
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* See Greek
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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
God, 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.