Although the British church had acquired such credit for orthodoxy, we have very little reliable information as to its rise and progress, or as to the means by which this was effected. There are many traditions, but they are scarcely worth repeating, and are unsuitable for a brief history. There is ample evidence, however, that in the early part of the fourth century, and at least two hundred years before the arrival of the Italian monks, the British church had a complete organization, with its bishops and metropolitans.
According to the testimony of both ancient and modern historians, the doctrines and the ritual of the old church were of the simplest character compared with the Greek or Roman, though a long way from the simplicity of the New Testament. They taught the oneness of the Godhead; the Trinity, the divine and human nature of Christ, redemption through His death; and the eternity of future rewards and punishments. They regarded the Lord's supper as a symbol, not a miracle; they took the bread and wine as our Lord commanded these should be taken—in remembrance of Him -and they did not refuse the wine to the laity. Their hierarchy consisted of bishops and priests, with other ministers, and that a particular service was employed at their ordination. Marriage was usual among the clergy. There were also monasteries with monks living in them, sworn to poverty, chastity, and obedience to their abbot. That churches were built in honor of martyrs; each church had many altars; and the service, which was performed in the Latin tongue, was chanted by the priests. Disputes were finally settled by provincial synods, held twice a year, beyond which, on matters of discipline, there was no appeal. So that we see the doctrines of the old church were characterized by a true apostolic simplicity, and as an institution it was free and unfettered.
It is matter of unfeigned thankfulness that the early church of our own country has left so fair a name behind her, compared with the superstitions and corruptions of the East and the West. But, alas! her existence as a separate establishment was not of long duration. She scarcely survived the middle of the seventh century. Her calamities were brought on by three successive steps, and these outside of her own jurisdiction—the withdrawal of the Roman troops from Britain; the Saxon Conquest; and the Augustinian Mission. We will now briefly glance at each step, and its effects.
We have seen something of the decline and approaching fall of the Roman Empire. In consequence of the heavy calamities which befell the city and provinces of Rome, the troops were gradually withdrawn from this island for the protection of the seat of dominion. And the Romans, finding that they could no longer spare the forces necessary for a military establishment in Britain, took their final departure from our island towards the middle of the fifty century, and about four hundred and seventy-five years after Julius Caesar first landed on its shores. The government then fell into the hands of a number of petty princes, who, of course, quarreled. Civil wars, national weakness, and demoralization soon followed, with their usual judgments.
The withdrawal of the Roman troops necessarily exposed the country to the inroads of invaders, especially the Picts and Scots. The British chiefs, unable to resist these audacious robbers and spoilers, appealed in their distress to Rome. "The barbarians," they said, "break through our walls, like wolves into a sheep-fold, retire with their booty, and return every succeeding year." But however much the Romans might pity their old friends, they were now unable to help them. Disappointed of aid from Rome, and despairing of their ability to defend themselves against the desolating tribes of the North, the Britons turned to the Saxons for help.