At their
chapel one heard much of Jehovah, the jealous God, of the burning lakes and
the damnation reserved for mankind, as a whole. Every Luke Gospeler was a
Jehovah in his own right. They walked hand in hand with God; they realized
the dismay and indignation Newlyn must occasion in His breast; they
sympathized heartily with the Everlasting and would have called down fire
from Heaven themselves if they could. Many openly wondered that He delayed
so long, for, from a Luke Gospeler's point of view, the place with its
dozen other chapels--each held in error by the rest, and all at deadly war
among themselves--its most vile ritualistic church of St. Peter, its
public-houses, scandals, and strifes, was riper for destruction than Sodom.
However, the hundred and thirty-four served to stave off celestial
brimstone, as it seemed.
It is pitiable, in the face of the majestic work of John Wesley in
Cornwall, to see the shattered ruins of it which remain. When the Wesleys
achieved their notable revival and swept off the dust of a dead Anglicanism
which covered religious Cornwall like a pall in the days of the Georges,
the old Celtic spirit, though these heroes found it hard enough to
rekindle, burst from its banked-up furnaces at last and blazed abroad once
more. That spirit had been bred by the saint bishops of Brito-Celtic days,
and Wesley's ultimate success was a grand repetition of history, as extant
records of the ancient use of the Church in Cornwall prove.
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