St. Martin's Church, both from its history and structure occupies a unique position. It is at once the cradle of purely English Christianity, and also a witness of that earlier Christianity which existed in Britain during the period of the Roman occupation. At the recent commemoration of the thirteen-hundredth anniversary of the "coming of St. Augustine," a solemn pilgrimage was made by the Archbishops and Bishops of the Anglican communion to this venerable church as being the one remaining building that could certainly be associated with St. Augustine's preaching; the one spot that without doubt felt his personal presence, whatever we may think of the more or less strong claims put forth on behalf of Ebb's Fleet, Richborough Castle, the ruins of St. Pancras, or the site of Canterbury Cathedral. In a prayer specially written for that occasion occurs the following passage: "We give Thee, O God, hearty thanks that by the preaching of Thy Blessed Servant Augustine, especially in this Holy House in which we are gathered together in Thy Name, Thou didst bring home the truth of the Gospel to our English forefathers, and didst call them out of darkness into Thy marvellous Light."

At the same time, those who were somewhat jealous of the claims of St. Augustine to be considered (as he often is by modern Roman Catholics) "the introducer of Christianity into this island," could point to the fact that, though the ecclesia vetusta of Glastonbury had disappeared, and its later abbey was in ruins, there was here some portion at least of an actual edifice stated by the Venerable Bede to have been "dedicated to the honour of St. Martin, and built of old, while the Romans were still occupying Britain,"—that is, at least 200 years before the advent of the Italian Mission.

Beyond this authentic passage, the proofs of its pre-Augustinian origin can be gathered only from the evidence of archaeological research, upon which we shall enter hereafter: and we must to a great extent depend upon this same evidence for its subsequent history after 597 A.D., though it undoubtedly gave the title of "Bishops of St. Martin's" to some chorepiscopi before the Norman Conquest. The interesting detailed references to individual churches, usually gleaned from ancient Archidiaconal Visitation Registers, are wanting in this case, because the church is, and always has been, exempt from the jurisdiction of the Archdeacon of Canterbury, and we can derive little or no information from the archives at Lambeth, since the Archiepiscopal visitations were, as a rule, merely diocesan and not parochial.

The church is situated on a gently-sloping hill, about a thousand yards due east of the cathedral.

To one looking from the elevated terrace which bounds its churchyard, the panorama is exceedingly picturesque and beautiful. In the distance rises a range of low wooded hills that almost encircle Canterbury, and the conspicuous building of Hales' Place, now the Jesuits' College; while beneath is spread in a hollow the city itself, with its red-tiled roofs interspersed with patches of green, the library and twin towers of St. Augustine's Abbey, and above all the massive cathedral, with "Becket's Crown" in the foreground, and the central "Bell Harry" tower lifting out of the morning's mist its magnificent pinnacles and tracery.

The prospect to Dean Stanley's eye was "one of the most inspiriting that could be found in the world," because of its religious associations, and its reminder that great and lasting good could spring from the smallest beginning. But even in its physical aspect, it is one that, in England at least, can seldom be surpassed; and in olden times the view must have been even more grand and extensive than it is at present, as the church stood in almost solitary grandeur, a permanent brick and stone edifice, above the wooden buildings nestling among thickets of ash—fit emblem of the durability of Divine, as compared with the perishable nature of human, institutions. It must even then have been somewhat of a marvel, on account of the rare mode of its construction, for at that early epoch churches were usually built of hewn oak, and the stone church of St. Ninian's at Whithern is specially mentioned by Bede as having been erected "in a manner unusual among the Britons."

The hill itself, on its northern and eastern sides, is honey-combed with springs, from which down to a late period the city was supplied with water. We can imagine it studded here and there with Roman villas, of which some remains in the shape of tesselated pavements were discovered two or three centuries ago—and crowned possibly by a small Roman encampment; while the church, situated only a few yards off the road to Richborough, would frequently have been seen and admired by soldiers on their march from the sea coast to the great fortress of London, or to the southern stations at Lympne and Dover.

Imagination would picture to itself the reverence felt for so sacred and venerable a spot, yet the fact remains, that up to a recent date the present church was regarded simply as a memorial of the past, a monument erected on the site of the ancient edifice, and reproducing some of its characteristic materials.

Mr Matthew W. Bloxam, for instance, in his preliminary observations to the "Principles of Gothic Ecclesiastical Architecture," after giving a sketch of its history and ancient fame, declares that it was rebuilt in the twelfth or thirteenth century, though to all appearance with the materials of the original church. Even Dean Stanley, who cherished for it a fond and enthusiastic love, assures us that, old as the present church is, "it is of far later date than Bertha's Chapel"; while so close an observer of archaeological facts as the late Mr Thomas Wright sweeps away all question as to its traditional continuity by stating boldly that "not a trace of Christianity is found among the innumerable religious and sepulchral monuments of the Roman period in Britain!"

It has been pertinently observed, that "these are conclusions too hastily arrived at; and antiquaries should ever remember that their facts of to-day may receive fresh additions, illustrations, and corrections from the discoveries of to-morrow,"—for since 1880 a series of explorations carried out both above and below ground, and a minute investigation into the character of the existing masonry, have made it more than probable that parts of the original structure mentioned by Bede are still standing, and that the present walls were not only consecrated by the preaching, and actually touched by the hand, of St. Augustine, but may be traced back to a considerably earlier period.

The church has survived its period of apparent disuse after the Roman departure from Britain. It escaped the destructiveness of the Jutes, and the devastation inflicted on Canterbury by the Danish invaders, and has been preserved to us (as we hope to show hereafter) a venerable and genuine relic of Romano-British Christianity. It suffered, indeed, after the Norman Conquest, both from centuries of neglect and also from so-called restoration—becoming at one time what Mr Ruskin would call "an interesting ruin," at another time being plastered and modernised till its ancient features were almost obliterated; but even when enemies were attacking religion from without, and faith grew cold within, the worship of Almighty God was carried on continuously under the shadow of its sacred walls, and on its altar for more than thirteen centuries has been offered the Sacrifice of the Holy Eucharist.

History is silent as to its builder—silent as to the exact date of its foundation. In the simple words of Fuller, "The Light of the Word shone here, but we know not who kindled it."

The mere fact of the existence of such a church involves of necessity the further question as to its immediate origin, whether it be attributed to Roman Christians, or to British converts working under the influence, if not the direct superintendence, of their conquerors. And in discussing this, we must perforce touch lightly the fringe of that well-worn, yet ever-fascinating, inquiry respecting the "earliest introduction of Christianity into Britain"—difficult as it is in ancient traditions and allusions to dissociate fact from fiction, genuine documents from forgeries, history from legend, so eager were the so-called writers of ecclesiastical history to advance their theories, even at the expense of truth.

We may indeed derive some assistance from the fact which we learn from secular historians, that in Apostolic times there was frequent communication between Rome and Britain. After the first conquest of Britain, Roman governors were sent in almost uninterrupted succession, and with them would come, of course, legions and cohorts, perhaps even some of the PrÆtorian soldiers in whose company the apostle St. Paul lived for a time during the reign of Nero. British chieftains were taken prisoners to Rome, and their sons left there as hostages. Some few Romans, too, such as Seneca, the brother of Gallio, held large possessions in the island. People and places connected with Britain are mentioned by the Roman poets Martial and Juvenal, and by the historian Tacitus. With such constant intercourse as there must have been, stories at least and reports of Christianity would have been brought over to the island as early as the first century, and there were probably individual Christians either among the numerous soldiers quartered here, or among returned captives. We may be doubtful whether at so early an epoch, save perhaps in a few exceptional cases, they formed themselves into regular societies or congregations, and it is not likely that they erected for themselves permanent places of worship. No such antiquity as this can be claimed even for the remains of the Roman church found amid the ruins of Silchester; and church building, as it is generally understood, did not begin at Rome before the fourth century, and it would have taken a few years to spread thence to Gaul, and from Gaul to Britain.

That Christianity did exist in Britain from early times, in a more or less settled form, is no longer a matter of dispute. In the words of Gildas, "Christ, the true Son, offered His rays (i.e. His precepts) to this island, benumbed with icy coldness, and lying far distant from the visible sun. I do not mean from the sun of the temporal firmament, but from the Sun of the highest arch of heaven, existing before all time." Relative to this fact there are a few statements of ancient writers given at dates which are precisely known, during the third century and subsequently: and these statements are familiar to all students, so that they need not be recapitulated at any length. Tertullian (in 208), Origen (in 239), Eusebius (about 320), allude in unmistakable terms to the existence of British Christianity, however rhetorical the passages may appear.

There is, too, the account of the martyrdom of St. Alban, recorded at length in the pages of Bede, which cannot be treated as an idle legend. It took place at Verulam during the persecution under Diocletian and Maximian, somewhere about 303. Although the record does not rest on contemporary evidence, the story was fully believed at Verulam itself as far back as 429 A.D. (i.e. within a hundred and twenty-six years of the traditional date) and is accepted by Constantius in the fifth, as well as by Gildas and Venantius Fortunatus in the sixth, century—while the difficulty of believing in the possibility of a persecution in Britain, which was then under the kindly and tolerant rule of Constantius, seems to us purely imaginary. It is hardly probable that Constantius would have been able to restrain the persecuting zeal of subordinates, in face of the superior authority of Maximian, who is said by Gibbon to have "entertained the most implacable aversion to the name and religion of the Christians." Dean Milman sees no reason for calling in question the historic reality of the event, and suggests that the probable fact of St. Alban being a Roman soldier may have been an additional reason for his not having received the "doubtful protection" of Constantius.

But after this period we come to even surer ground—and from the beginning of the fourth century we find a Christian church fully organised in Britain. At the Council of Arles (in 314) three British bishops were present, whose very names and dioceses are recorded—viz. Eborius of York, Restitutus of London, and Adelphius of Caerleon-on-Usk or Lincoln. British bishops took part in the Councils of Sardica (347) and Ariminium (359), and probably also in the great Council of NicÆan (325). We have also testimony to a regular organisation in the pages of St. Chrysostom, Jerome, Theodoret, etc., ranging from the end of the fourth to the beginning of the fifth century. The conversion of the Southern Picts by Ninian, Bishop of Whithern—the visits of Germanus, Bishop of Auxerre, and Lupus, Bishop of Troyes, to Verulam and elsewhere—the missions of Palladius and Patrick to Ireland—the pilgrimages of British Christians to the Holy Land—and even the fact of the Pelagian heresy being propagated by a Briton—all equally bear witness to the prevalence of Christianity in these early centuries, so that Gildas may not be drawing entirely on his imagination when he describes the Church as "spread over the nation, organised, endowed, having sacred edifices and altars, the three orders of the ministry and monastic institutions, embracing the people of all ranks and classes, and having its own version of the Bible, and its own ritual."

Now, in view of these facts, many writers have not unnaturally endeavoured to trace the introduction of Christianity to some great man, or to some special effort. It seemed so impossible that a complete organisation should have sprung up without a definite founder—and claims have been made on behalf of St. Peter, St. John, Simon Zelotes, and Aristobulus, though without even a shadow of probability to recommend them. Something, indeed, may be urged in favour of the pious belief that St. Paul made his way to this island between his first and second imprisonment. St. Clement of Rome says that he preached "to the extreme boundary of the West"; St. Chrysostom, that from Illyricum "he went to the very ends of the earth"; and Theodoret, that the Apostles, including St. Paul, "brought to all men the laws of the Gospel, and persuaded not only the Romans ... but also the Britons, to receive the laws of the Crucified," while the theory has received the support of Soames, Bishop Burgess, Collier, and other ecclesiastical writers—even Bishop Lightfoot thinking it "not improbable that the western journey of St. Paul included a visit to Gaul," from which an extension of his journey to Britain would not of course be impossible. It is true, too, that (as with the closing years of St. Peter) there is an interval of time after St. Paul's first imprisonment (variously estimated as from four to eight years) which cannot be accounted for; and that the mere fact of silence as to St. Paul having preached in this island need not be unduly pressed, because Britain was at that time an obscure and unimportant province at the extremity of the Roman empire. But the critical historian cannot accept what is, after all, a mere conjecture, unsupported by long tradition or any positive evidence—any more than he can lay stress upon what is only a curious coincidence, between the mention by Martial of Claudia, a British lady in Rome newly married to Pudens—and the salutation of "Claudia and Pudens" in St. Paul's Second Epistle to Timothy, written from Rome. The theory as to this identification, is based on a string of hypotheses, called by Dean Farrar "an elaborate rope of sand." Similar remarks would also apply to the legend that the father of Caractacus, King of the Silures, called Bran the Blessed, was converted to Christianity when captive at Rome (A.D. 51-58) and introduced the Gospel into his native country on his return, though there is a tradition to that effect incorporated into the Welsh Triads, which are probably none of them earlier than the fourteenth century. Tacitus (Ann. xii. 35) only mention the "wife, daughter and brothers" of Caractacus as having surrendered with him, and he would scarcely have omitted the "father," if he had shared their captivity.

There is, indeed, one story which we are very loath to surrender—viz. the story that St. Joseph of Arimathea was sent, with twelve companions, to Britain by the Apostle St. Philip (about 63 A.D.) settled in the Isle of Avalon or Glastonbury, and founded there a monastery, striking his staff into the earth, and making it burst, like Aaron's rod, into leaf, and bloom with the blossom of the Holy Thorn. This legend, indeed, is not actually recorded in writing before William of Malmesbury in the twelfth century, but it may have rested on earlier local tradition. We know that Glastonbury was a Christian sanctuary before the Saxons conquered the district, and Bishop Browne (of Bristol) reminds us that Domesday Book speaks of the "twelve hides (the portions of land said to have been granted to St. Joseph's companions) which never have been taxed," and that at the Council of Basle in 1431 the English Church claimed and received precedence as founded by St. Joseph of Arimathea in Apostolic times. The tradition, too, that the first British Christians erected at Glastonbury a church made of twigs or wattlework (called afterwards the Vetusta Ecclesia, and only destroyed by fire in 1184) has been illustrated, if not confirmed, by recent discoveries at Glastonbury (among the ruins of British houses burned with fire) of baked clay showing the impress of wattlework. There is no known fact connected with the life of St. Joseph of Arimathea that would negative the conclusion that he might have been sent to Britain as a missionary.

Some difficulties would be solved if we could believe the tale about Lucius, a British King, having requested Eleutherius, Bishop of Rome from 171 to 185, to send someone to teach his people Christianity. This legend is recorded by Bede, partly confirmed by Nennius, and accepted by William of Malmesbury. And the name of Lucius has been variously associated with Winchester, Gloucester, Llandaff, St. Peter's Cornhill, St. Martin's Church, St. Mary's Church in Dover Castle, and even the church on the site of Canterbury Cathedral. The story probably owed its origin to a note in Catalogus Pontificum Romanorum, but it does not occur in the earlier catalogue written about 353, and was added to it nearly two hundred years later, with the object apparently of connecting the primitive growth of Christianity in Britain with the See of Rome. Though this ancient story cannot be considered as historical, it is not altogether impossible that it had some foundation in an application from a British prince to receive instruction in Christianity about the end of the second century: and this would give point to the statement of Tertullian (in 208) that "the kingdom and name of Christ were venerated in districts of Britain not yet reached by the Romans."

There is much force in the conclusion arrived at by Bishop Browne, that, "with Gaul so close at hand, its people so near of kin, its government so identical with theirs, the Britons would learn Christianity from, and through, Gaul," to whose church ours should occupy the position of a younger sister. At the same time, this fact must be considered—viz. that the earliest bishops mentioned as having attended the Council of Aries are anterior in point of time to the dated bishops in a great majority of the dioceses of Gaul adjacent to this island, so that we should not too readily abandon the possible belief that there was an independent church in Britain, though we know not when or by whom it was founded.

It only remains in this chapter to mention a few of the traces of British Christianity as supplied by monumental or other evidence well attested. We may believe, with Bede, that over St. Alban's tomb at Verulam, "when the peace of the Christian times returned, a church was built of wonderful workmanship, and worthy of that martyr"; and three churches are spoken of at Caerleon, two of which were dedicated to Julius and Aaron, said to have been martyred in the Diocletian persecution; another at Bangor Iscoed, near Chester; besides one at Candida Casa or Whithern, and the Vetusta Ecclesia at Glastonbury, our own church of St. Martin, and the foundations of that lately discovered in Roman Silchester. This is a fair number, even if we pass over for the time any possible claims to Roman origin on the part of Brixworth, Lyminge, Reculver, and St. Mary's Church in Dover Castle, all of which are ascribed to the Saxon period by Mr J. T. Micklethwaite in his interesting paper read at Canterbury in 1896 before the meeting of the Royal ArchÆological Institute—though we need not allow that his reasoning is in all cases indisputable.

We possess, too, some sepulchral monuments and inscriptions (not at present very extensive, but probably greatly to be multiplied as fresh excavations and explorations are made) at St. Mary le Wigfred, Lincoln, Caerleon, and Barming, and the Chi-Rho monogram (which was first introduced as a Christian symbol by the Emperor Constantine at the beginning of the fourth century) on various rings, stones, and tesselated pavements, also crosses on pavements at Harpole and Harkstow, and various Christian formulas such as "Vivas in Deo," "In pace," etc.

The dogmatism and incredulity of antiquaries may well be illustrated in the case of Mr T. Wright ("The Celt, the Roman, and the Saxon"). He disbelieves in all traces of Christianity said to be found among monuments of the Roman period; and his scepticism is thorough and comprehensive—more extreme in our opinion than the credulity which he denounces. He allows, indeed, the possibility of there having been some individuals among recruits and merchants and settlers who had embraced the truths of the Gospel, but with a qualification. He thinks the early allusions made by Tertullian, Origen, Jerome, and others are "little better than flourishes of rhetoric." The list of British bishops at the Council of Aries seems to him "extremely suspicious, much like the invention of a later period." He disbelieves the whole account of the Diocletian persecution having extended to Britain, even partially or locally. He doubts the authenticity of the work attributed to Gildas, though his objections have been met and set at rest, for most people, by such competent authorities as Dr Guest and others. But, as an instance of what I cannot but designate as far-fetched scepticism, we may note his explanation of the Christian monogram found on the pavement of a Roman villa at Frampton. He does not question its genuineness, but explains it by surmising that the beautiful villa had probably belonged to some wealthy proprietor, who possessed a taste for literature and philosophy, and with a tolerant spirit, which led him to surround himself with the memorials of all systems, had adopted, among the rest, that which he might learn from some of the imperial coins to be the emblem of Christ—Jesus Christ standing, in his eyes, on the same footing as Pythagoras or Socrates.

Surely we have here a warning against the dogmatism which is often indulged in by archaeological experts, and it may be extended from monuments and remains to legends and traditions, which are often of great weight, even when they cannot be historically proved. It is not unnatural that many people should have become impatient and wearied of such purely negative criticism.