Fig. 7. Portion of chancel wall, south side, St Martin’s Church, Canterbury. Roman tiles are seen abundantly in the wall on the right, and in the round arch; they are also bonded into the wall on the left. The wall is mainly seventh-century work, but the round-headed doorway is later, and the buttress has been modernized. The flat-headed doorway is probably original.
was a church on this spot in Roman times, and that the building which existed in his day retained relics of the older structure[68]. In spite of this tradition, the popular belief is only doubtfully tenable. The site is old, and there may have been unbroken continuity, but the present building, though doubtless largely composed of the original materials, has been altogether re-arranged[69] ([Fig. 7]). An exception may perhaps be made for portions of the western nave, which Professor Baldwin Brown considers may represent early work. St Pancras, at Canterbury, by some writers judged to be older than St Martin’s, must, under reserve, be given up, for similar reasons. Foundations, nearly complete, of a single-celled apsidal church have been revealed to the excavator, but the actual persistence of work above the surface is not demonstrated[70]. Other churches put forward are Ribchester, in Lancashire[71], and the chapel of St Peter’s-on-the-Wall, at Bradwell (Othona), in Essex. St Peter’s Chapel represents a barnlike building, of which the materials were evidently quarried from the adjacent fortress, but, once again, proof of continuity is lacking.
St Joseph’s Chapel, at Glastonbury Abbey, presents us with an interesting case of probable retention of site, though not necessarily of continuous buildings. The earlier history of Glastonbury is, unfortunately, mainly a history of legends and traditions. We may well discredit the tale, told by the imaginative William of Malmesbury, a millennium after the alleged event, that, so early as the first century of the Christian era, a chapel constructed of osiers existed at this spot. That some kind of primitive church or oratory, with walls of wattle, and a roof of reeds, was set up during the Roman occupation is, however, very probable, and it may fairly be supposed, though it cannot be proved, that no break had occurred when the Saxon abbey was founded[72].
Among other churches for which a reasonable claim has been advanced is that of Jarrow, which Professor Brown places in his period “A,” that is, the period anterior to the year A.D. 800[73]. Again, the oldest part of the cathedral church of Canterbury, as attested by experts, slightly supported by Bede’s description, may be a relic of Roman Christianity[74]. We pass from these examples in order to glance at a church whose age may now be deemed undisputed, namely, the small apsidal church or basilica which was uncovered in 1892 at Silchester (Calleva Atrebatum). The nature of the building was at first much canvassed, and some authorities, relying chiefly upon the absence of Christian symbols in the mosaics, and upon other details, denied that the foundations were those of a church[75]. Curious to relate, the Chi-Rho, along with the Omega, was found impressed on the side of a small leaden seal which was dug up in the Silchester Forum[76], hence, if the basilica has yielded no evidence of Christian symbolism, such testimony lay hidden at no great distance. To be brief, not only is the basilica now accepted as genuine by the best authorities, but Messrs G. E. Fox and W. St John Hope declare that it is the only example of a Christian church of Roman date yet found[77].
On the ruins of the Silchester basilica no Gothic church sprang up, so that there was not site-continuity. Yet the parish church, which was afterwards built during the twelfth century, within the enceinte of the destroyed Roman town, has a direct bearing on the subject of this chapter. It is one of the two instances of churches which Professor Brown admits as having possibly superseded pagan Roman buildings. He does not, however, concede that we have any examples of Saxon churches which once actually formed parts of such temples. In all cases, the form and orientation of the churches, he asserts, betray an ecclesiastical origin. The churches may point to a survival of Romano-British Christianity, but that is another question[78]. Nevertheless, as Professor Brown himself notes, Silchester parish church was built close to the remains of two small Roman shrines of Gaulish type. The orientation of the church exactly agrees with that of one of the shrines, and this may indicate some relationship[79]. Messrs Fox and St John Hope have stated that the list of edifices dedicated to pagan deities in this country is very scanty, yet it is noteworthy that, of this list, three were recorded at Silchester. Moreover, one of these temples was found lying partly under the graveyard of the parish church, and partly under the buildings of an adjacent farm[80]. “Perhaps,” say these writers, “the rising power of Christianity, as seen in the little church [the basilica] within the south-eastern corner of the Forum, may have made for their destruction[81]” [i.e. the destruction of the shrines]. May we not add that, should someone excavate a second Silchester, further evidence of this kind might be obtained? Dr Thomas Ashby’s explorations at Caerwent (Venta Silurum) have, so far (1910), yielded no certain traces of a Christian church. The basilica discovered on the north side of the Forum is of a civil, not religious, character. We might frankly discard all the examples previously given, save perhaps those in which churches stand over Roman villas, and yet come to a wrong conclusion by arguing from the absence of particular witnesses. Other deponents may press forward. Before, however, we can examine these, we must make a rather lengthy digression to inquire if there exist a priori reasons for the annexation of pagan sites by Christian teachers.
We have, in proceeding to this examination, principally to consider the policy which was pursued by the early missionaries. Writing about Christianity in general, Harnack has shown that, during the third century, it united enthusiasm with the spirit of tolerance. “Stooping to meet the needs of the masses,” the leaders studied polytheistic customs, instituted festivals and saints, and utilized sites already deemed sacred. To express the fact otherwise: the religion became syncretistic in the proper meaning of that term[82]. Christian and pagan ideas were blended. Following the wise, and, indeed, the only practicable method—that of peaceful permeation—the Church often retained the forms of heathen ceremonies, while actually investing these with new meanings. The process has been pithily expressed by Sir G. L. Gomme: “Christianity was both antagonistic to, and tolerant of, pagan custom and belief. In principle and purpose it was antagonistic. In practice, it was tolerant where it could tolerate freely[83].”
As a matter of history, however, we learn that the policy did not remain strictly consistent, and a struggle for survival ensued. Under the rule of Constantine, the tendency was to destroy heathen temples and their idols, but by the Edict of Theodosius (A.D. 392), pagan shrines were to be dedicated as Christian churches. Later, the Edict of Honorius (A.D. 408) definitely forbade the demolition of heathen temples, at least in the cities[84]. These enactments seem to have a direct bearing on cases like that of Silchester and upon other examples, to be described hereafter. Leaping over a gulf of nearly two centuries, we discover Pope Gregory the Great (A.D. 601) sending a letter to the Abbot Mellitus, who was then about to visit Britain, commanding that, while idols were to be destroyed, the temples themselves were to be preserved. Holy water was to be sprinkled in the buildings, altars were to be erected, and sacred relics were to be placed therein. Anniversary festivals were to be appointed, and the new worship inaugurated[85]. Keeping this in mind, we are not surprised to find that, on the conversion of Ethelbert, two or three years previous to the Gregorian edict, Augustine received a licence to restore, as well as to build churches[86]. Whether these churches were pagan temples which had been partially despoiled, or Romano-British basilicas which had fallen into decay, we are left to conjecture.
On the continent, the breach of continuity of policy was still less perceptible. Grimm distinctly states that churches were erected on the sites of heathen trees or temples. He warns us against false conceptions of history. We are not to picture the poor peasants as being ruthlessly expelled from their accustomed places of worship. The heathen, he declares, were not so tame and simple, nor were the Christians so reckless, as to lay the axe to sacred trees, or to fire the pagan temples. The rude forefathers of the hamlet trod the old paths to the old site. Sometimes the very walls were retained, nay, the local idol or image was retained outside the door or within the porch. Thus, at Bamberg Cathedral, in Bavaria, zoomorphic stones, inscribed with runes, passed the examination of lenient judges[87]. Again, pagan festivals were converted into Christian holy-days. The Yule-tide merry-makings in honour of Thor—revels which have also been connected by some writers equally with the gods Adonis, Dionysos, and Mithra—became the festival celebration of the birth of Christ. Canon E. L. Hicks (now Bishop of Lincoln) contends that the observance of the exact date, December 25th, as Christmas Day, is directly borrowed from Mithraism[88]. The old German feast in memory of departed warriors was metamorphosed into All Souls’ Day, when the spirits of resting believers were kept in mind[89]. As with holy-days, so with symbols. Thor’s hammer was replaced by the Christian Cross, and the heathen sprinkling of newly-born babes became Christian baptism[90]. Thus, by the retention of holy oaks, of idolatrous feasts, of pagan symbols and ceremonies, of the heathen names for the days of the week, the new religion gained entrance. In Ireland, where the problem to be faced was remarkably complex, the Christianization of pagan myths was very noticeable[91]. Here, the very names of the feasts long continued as in pagan times. Only when the conciliatory policy had “eased the yoke of the new ordinances,” was it possible to take drastic measures, and to extrude heathenism from the places of worship[92].