Our path will be greatly cleared if we recognize, and remember—what is too commonly forgotten—that there was a Christian church in Britain long before the mission of Augustine in A.D. 597. Apart from legends, and documents of doubtful authenticity, some writers claim to have proved that British Christianity was well developed before the close of the second century of our era[2]. Other authorities assert that the evidence for the second century is unhistorical, and that the first genuine reference to Christians in Britain is made by Tertullian (c. A.D. 208)[3]. However this may be—and the question of the exact date of the introduction is foreign to our present study—there is unanimity as to the existence of a strong British Church soon after the death of Constantine (A.D. 337). It is even stated that, at the date just mentioned, Britain was as fully Christian as any country in Europe[4]. At any rate, it is beyond dispute that, in A.D. 314, the British Church was represented at the Council of Arles, in France, by three bishops, together with a priest and a deacon[5]. Certain writers go further, and contend that, before Britain was cut off from the Empire, the Church had a vigorous corporate life of its own[6]. How long this organization endured, and to what extent it was weakened or shattered by the shock of the Teutonic invasion, are more debateable subjects. It is possible, however, that a remnant of churchmen survived to greet the advent of Augustine[7]. This only must be said, that the existence of any continuity of Christian tradition, however slight, might render the task of deciding what is a pagan site more difficult. Under the influence of an unbroken tradition, churches might be constantly rebuilt on the old foundations; hence, if this assumption be made, additional testimony would be necessary in order to establish the theory that any original structure was set up by the heathen. If such evidence were lacking, the successive buildings would simply strengthen the hypothesis of continuity of Christian worship, but would leave untouched the problem of heathen sites.
The first problem to be attacked, then, concerns the existence of Christian churches during the Roman period, and the after-history of such buildings. Do any of these churches remain to us? The available evidence seems to show that, in outlying districts, at least, churches were constructed of wattle, and, of these structures, not a wrack could possibly have persisted until the present day. In the cities, more durable materials, limestone, flint, chalk, and baked tiles, would be employed, and there is some likelihood that portions of buildings so constructed would successfully resist the ravages of vandals and the fury of storms. Now, it is singular that the churches which will least stand the critical test of the architect and the antiquary with respect to a Roman origin, are precisely those which the popular vote declares to belong to that period. The churches thus misunderstood are those which have large quantities of undoubted Roman materials built into their walls. The catalogue is of formidable length, but may be soon dismissed after a few typical examples have been noticed. The walls of the cathedral church of St Albans contain abundance of Roman material, and a continuity of buildings, dating from the Roman occupation, has therefore been hastily assumed. Bede, it is true, relates that a church was built over the grave of St Alban at Verulam[8], and it is possible that the spot is now covered by the cathedral, but we cannot wisely go beyond this, especially when we remember how plentiful were the Roman materials close at hand. The fact remains: from the time of the erection of the memorial church to the founding of the monastery in A.D. 793, we have an interval which is unbridged by trustworthy testimony. A generation ago, Mr Roach Smith, a most sagacious observer, compiled a list of Kentish churches which he thought might be probable restorations of pre-Saxon structures[9]. In all of these Roman materials were found. Some of the churches, however, like those of Reculver and Lyminge, had peculiarities of site, and these examples will be noted later. Among the Kentish churches whose “Romanity,” as the early antiquaries would phrase it, must be discredited, are those of Burham, Leeds, Southfleet, and Lower Halstow. Yet the last-named church is chiefly built of Roman spoil. The “Garden County” also yields Cuxton[10] and St Paul’s Cray, with many another church inwrought with Roman tiles. Crossing the Thames estuary, we find, according to Mr Guy Maynard’s computation, thirty-five Essex churches which have Roman tiles in their walls[11]. A writer in the Athenaeum, commenting on this list, gives a higher figure, and asserts that Essex contains at least sixty such churches[12]. We may safely infer from these facts that Roman ruins existed in the neighbourhood of each of the sites at the time when the walls were built. Any further conclusion must be viewed with suspicion, unless Roman remains are discovered beneath the buildings. The “argument from silence” is beset with peril in any department of archaeology. Moreover, some of the churches in the list—which might be greatly extended—belong, as Professor Baldwin Brown has observed, to purely Mediaeval settlements, and consequently have little evidential value[13].
We turn to a different class of churches—those which occupy the sites of Roman villas. The importance of these examples rests on the probability that some of the wealthier Roman converts would allow their dwelling-houses to be consecrated for Christian worship. From a small reception-room, arranged like an ordinary church, there might be developed a Christian building, with chancel, nave, and aisles complete. A scrap of testimony, slight though it be, favours this hypothesis. It is the discovery, on a mosaic, among the ruins of a Roman villa at Frampton, Dorsetshire, and again on a tile from the villa at Chedworth, Gloucestershire, of examples of the Chi-Rho monogram[14]. This sacred monogram has also been met with on such objects as bowls, seals, and rings. Seeing that the symbol was not used in Rome before A.D. 312, its presence in Britain cannot date earlier. On the other hand, remembering that the Roman departure took place in A.D. 410, we can scarcely assign the Chi-Rho to a later date. Mr J. Romilly Allen is therefore plainly near the truth when he attributes the British examples to the late fourth century[15].
The validity of the evidence afforded by the Chi-Rho, while unquestionable so far as the existence of British Christianity is concerned, is not decisive with respect to site-continuity. At the outset, one demands that the monogram should be found in juxtaposition with the later Christian churches built on older sites—not isolated from such buildings. On the other hand, it would be passing strange if a large number of churches came to be built by chance on, or adjacent to, the areas once occupied by Roman villas, whether the confirmatory Chi-Rho were discovered or not. If we consider the case of direct continuity non-proven, and yet rule out the possibility of accident, a choice of two theories seems to be presented. We might either suppose that the church builders were keenly anxious to utilize ruined villas, or that, believing those villas to have been centres of pagan family-worship, deliberately chose to set foundation over foundation. That this second alternative is not altogether fanciful will be seen hereafter. A few examples of villa sites will now be given.
Fig. 1. Roman altar (2nd century A.D.), discovered on the site of St Swithin’s church, Lincoln. Height, 3´; base, 1´ 9´´ × 1´´ 3´´. The altar is hewn from a single block of oolite. The inscription states that the altar was erected by Gaius Antistius Frontinus, “thrice curator.”
The churches of West Mersea, in Essex, and Wroxeter, in Salop, are believed to stand on sites of Roman villas; a little contributory testimony is afforded by the fact that the shaft of the font, in each case, is fashioned from the drum of a Roman column[16]. In the case of Wroxeter, however, the only tessellated pavement recorded by Professor Haverfield was found a little to the north of the church. The conditions are supposed to have been similar at Haydon and Chollerton, in Northumberland, and at Great Salkeld, in Cumberland; in all of these instances the fonts are said to be hollowed out of Roman altars[17]. During the rebuilding of St Swithin’s Church, Lincoln (A.D. 1880-88), a Roman altar ([Fig. 1]) was discovered beneath the tower. The old fabric belonged to the Decorated period, while the altar dates from the second century of the Roman occupation. There is thus an intervening space of more than a thousand years, and this gap cannot yet be actually bridged over. At the deserted church of Widford, in Oxfordshire, portions of a Roman tessellated pavement were found in the chancel[18].
Professor Seebohm, who closely studied the district around Hitchin, and discovered strong proofs of unbroken occupation of village sites, gives some interesting examples which bear on our subject. He thinks that the church of Much Wymondley, near that town, stands within a Roman holding, probably that of a retired veteran[19]. A Roman cemetery was discovered hard by, and to the east of the church is a double “tumulus,” which Professor Seebohm conjectured to be a “toot-hill,” or a terminal mound[20]. These toot-hills will be again mentioned; meanwhile, we are bound to notice that more recent investigators claim this particular hillock as an early castle-mound. Nevertheless, it is stated that the mound and its associated bailey-court have been