BOOK II. CHAPTER VIII.

Gregory’s missionary labours

 

The renewal of friendly relations with Gaul afforded Gregory an opportunity, which he had long desired, of undertaking the conversion of the Anglo-Saxons. Amid all his burdens and anxieties, it seems that the Pope had never forgotten the English slave-boys whom he had once seen in the Roman Forum. When Candidus went to Gaul in the autumn of 595 to take charge of the Papal estates, he was directed to lay out part of the rents in the purchase of English slaves, boys of seventeen or eighteen years of age, who were to be sent at once to Rome.¹ It was doubtless Gregory’s intention that these lads, converted and educated under his own supervision, should one day be sent back to their own country as missionaries, or, at any rate, as interpreters in the service of Roman priests and monks; and he hoped to utilize their acquaintance with the language, customs, and religion of their country for the furtherance of his own design respecting its conversion. His plan was well conceived, but it required time—three or four years at least—for its development, and Gregory, had no time to lose. His health was very bad, and he knew that he might die before his scheme was ripe for execution. About 596, too, he was on friendly terms with the rulers of Gaul, and could secure for his missionaries a passage through that country, which a few years later might be closed against them. Further, in Britain itself conditions were favourable to the enterprise.

The position of affairs in that island was, briefly, as follows. About the middle of the fifth century three allied nations—the Angles, the Saxons, and the Jutes—had made good their footing in the country. The original habitat of these tribes was the region of Southern Jutland, Schleswig-Holstein, and the Lower Elbe. They were at once warriors and seamen, and for some time previously both Gaul and Britain had suffered from their piratical incursions. In appearance they were horrible—their faces ghastly with blue daubing, their long hair drawn back from the forehead, and over all, as Beowulf puts it, “the like­ness of a boar, of divers colours, hardened in the fire, to keep the life in safety.” Sidonius has touched on some of their characteristics—their reckless courage, their delight in war, their barbarous cruelty; and he says that after an expedition they were accustomed to apply frightful tortures to one in every ten of their captives, deeming it “a religious duty to torment their prisoners rather than to put them to ransom.” It is probable that, with the Angles and Saxons, there came to Britain a sprinkling from other Germanic peoples—Frisians, Franks, Lombards, and Danes. But these were but isolated bands of adventurers, neither numerous nor important.

Of the history of the conquests during the next hundred years we have no reliable account. Facts and events recorded in the Chronicles, the Welsh poems, and the histories of Gildas and Nennius can only be accepted with the greatest caution. As yet history and legend were imperfectly differentiated. Fragments of old romances, myths, and folk-tales are treated as veritable history, and the doings of the heroes of the invasion are confounded with the exploits of the gods of the race. Indubitable facts, indeed, there are, such as no sane critic would deny. Such, for example, are the destruction of Anderida, the battle of Badon Hill, and the foundation of Bamborough. But while we can yet discern the great landmarks of the invasion, it is impossible, on our present evidence, to follow the victorious armies step by step.

By the close of the sixth century, however, when Britain was on the eve of renewing communications with the Boman world, we begin to see more clearly. The bulk of the island was by this time won. But the work of conquest had been attended with extreme difficulty. The wild nature of the country, with its great stretches of swamp and waste and forest had interposed endless impediments in the path of the invaders. And the Britons used this advantage to the full. In Italy and Gaul the Boman civilization had enfeebled and enervated the native character, so that when the invaders came they found an easy prey. But in Britain it was not so. Borne had not had time seriously to impair the vigour of the people or to break their spirit. They made a magnificent resistance. Every rood of ground which the Saxons gained was won by desperate fighting. Every position was contested. And when, over­matched by the skill or numbers of the enemy, the Britons were forced to retreat, it was only to renew the struggle a little further back with unabated courage.

The conquest, though difficult, was thorough; and the Britons, if not exterminated on the conquered soil, were at least reduced to a condition of complete dependence and insignificance. About the year 596 a rough line might have been drawn down Central Britain, from Ettrick beyond the Cheviot to the Peak of Derbyshire, and thence, skirting the Forest of Arden and crossing the estuary of the Severn, through the woods of Dorset to the sea. Such a line would have marked the boundaries of two peoples, differing from one another in language, civilization, and religion, and bitterly hostile each to each. West of it, Britain belonged to Britons, still free and resisting; east of it, the English occupied undisturbed the country they had won.

The western haff of Britain, still independent of the invader, included the region extending northward of the Dee, after­wards called Cumbria, the country of Wales, and the district of Cornwall, Devon, and part of Somerset Within this area there was little political centralization. Gildas (c. 540) tells us that it was governed by a multitude of petty “tyrants,” some of whom he names, and of whose morals and manners he gives an appalling account. Amid this crowd of small princes some, indeed, appear to have exercised a predominant authority. Such, e.g., were Constantine, king of Devon and Cornwall, and Maelgwn of North Wales, the most powerful of all. The northern states, too, between the Firth of Clyde and the Derwent, were united in the kingdom of Strathclyde. Still, interests were, on the whole, divergent, and the Britons, though united against the foe, remained isolated in their relations with one another.

The remainder of Britain, east of the dividing line, may for practical purposes be separated into three divisions—North­umbria, the land of the West Saxons, and the district which owned the supremacy of Ethelbert. Here the principles of union and cohesion were already beginning to work. When the invaders landed in Britain they were in small groups, inde­pendent of one another; when they set about the work of conquest they still remained isolated, without collective armies or common action; even when they settled down to enjoy the land they had subdued, they still tended to arrange themselves in mutually antagonistic bands. But beneath this outward show of separation it is possible to trace the working of a deeper unity, binding together these scattered bodies, primarily in virtue of their common origin, and also, in a secondary degree, in virtue of their common warfare against a common foe. At the close of the sixth century this underlying unity was everywhere breaking through the crust of isolation. The bonds of blood and race were being tightened. The groups were being fused into masses.

Of the three divisions above referred to we are here concerned only with the last. This was a district in the south-east, extending roughly from the Humber to Sussex and the sea. It was split up into a number of small kingdoms, marking the settlements of various detachments of the con­querors. To the south was Sussex, the history of which at this time is quite obscure. In the centre were the states of the East Saxons, ruled by Saebert, nephew of Ethelbert; and the two East Anglian Folks governed by Redwald the Uffing. The northern kingdom of Mercia was not so constituted till the time of Penda, but was represented at this period by a number of petty states of which we know hardly anything except their names. But the most important of the kingdoms in this division was undoubtedly that of Kent. Its king, Ethelbert, was acknowledged by all the other provinces as, in some sort, their overlord. “He had,” says Bede, “the im­perium over all the southern provinces that are divided from the northern by the river Humber, and the borders contiguous to the same.” This supremacy was certainly somewhat loose. It was not constitutional or accurately defined, but was rather a de facto hegemony, of which the principal privilege was the right to lead the “ subject ” states in war, but it also carried with it a certain influence over their affairs in time of peace. As “ Bretwalda,” Ethelbert was able to afford peculiar facilities to Augustine for the prosecution of his mission.

In 596, then, Ethelbert of Kent was the most powerful ruler in the island, his supremacy extending over the various English and Saxon principalities from the Humber to the Channel. Some while before he had married a Christian princess from Gaul, Bertha, daughter of Charibert, king of Paris. At the time of her marriage it had been expressly stipulated that she should have full liberty to worship as a Christian, and should be attended to her new home by a Frank bishop named Liudhard. The religion of the queen doubtless excited the curiosity of the English. But Liudhard seems to have been deficient in missionary zeal and was personally too insignificant a man to effect with Ethelbert what Remigius, aided by Bertha’s ancestress Chlotilda, had done for Clovis.⁸ From the Gallican Church, moreover, no help was forthcoming; and Gregory heard with sorrow that the English were longing for the knowledge of Christianity, but the bishops of the neighbouring country neglected their duty, and would do nothing to facilitate the good work.⁴ He resolved, therefore, not to wait until the education of his English slave-boys was finished, but to attempt the conversion of England without delay.

In the spring of 596 the mission was ready to set out.⁵ It is remarkable as the only great mission to the heathen organized and originated at Rome during this period, of which we have any account. “ Gregory is the one Pope of that time who shows the old Roman yearning for new realms to subject to the rule and order of Rome.” It is also remarkable for the fact that it was entirely composed of monks. It might have seemed that men whose object was to isolate themselves from the world, and whose time was to be given mainly to prayer and contemplation, were scarcely those most fit to be chosen for a long and dangerous journey, and for active work in a foreign land.

But Gregory had experience of the monastery, and he knew that within the cloister walls more than anywhere else he might hope to find the qualities which were absolutely necessary for the accomplishment of so difficult a task—courage, patience, discipline, and self-devotion.

The head of the mission was Augustine, who held the office of prior in Gregory’s monastery on the Caelian. He was a man of commanding presence and lofty stature, a head and shoulders taller than any of his companions. He had been thoroughly trained in the monastic discipline, was well versed in the study of Scripture, and on his zeal and judgment the Pope believed he could rely. Of his early life, however, we know nothing except that he had once been a pupil of Felix bishop of Messina, and that he was an intimate friend of Gregory himself.⁸ For us Augustine’s history begins on the day when, in company with some forty other monks—among them Laurentius the priest, Peter, Honorius, and John afterwards abbat of St. Augustine’s Monastery at Canterbury—he passed through the Ostian Gate to become the Apostle of the English nation.

From Ostia, Augustine and his companions pursued their way by sea till they reached the island of Lerins, the most celebrated of the older monasteries in the West—the Holy Isle of Southern Gaul. In the early part of the fifth century, when the country had already become the prey of the barbarians, a Gallo-Roman of noble birth, named Honoratus, had fled to what was then a desolate spot, overgrown with brambles and shunned by travellers on account of the venomous snakes which were said to abound in its thickets. There, amid the ruins of a heathen temple, Honoratus laid the foundations of his monastery. By the labours of his disciples the island and the adjacent shore were cultivated with such success, that in a few years the aspect of the place was entirely changed and the wilderness became a garden. No monastic home seems to have inspired its sons with such intense affection, and nowhere else did the charms of the monastic life awaken such enthusiasm. That quiet nook in the loveliest bay upon the southern coast of Gaul, with its magnificent views of wooded hills and snow-capped mountain peaks, blessed with a bright sky and a delightful climate, gorgeous with flowers and fragrant with their odours, earned and deserved the reputation of an earthly Paradise. Under the rule of Honoratus and his immediate successors, Lerins became the most celebrated school of theological learning in Europe. In that peaceful retreat Vincent of Lerins acquired the know­ledge which made him the first controversialist of his age; there Salvian meditated his great vindication of God’s providential government in the world; there Faustus, the founder of semi-Pelagianism, taught and studied; there Eucherius learned the delights of solitude which he has so glowingly described. From the cloisters of Lerins many of the chief cities of Gaul obtained the most eminent of their bishops—Hilary of Arles, celebrated for his austerities, his devoutness, his love of the poor, his apostolic labours; Lupus of Troyes, who by his resolute courage awed even the ferocious Attila; Caesarius of Arles, the most eloquent and effective preacher of his day. Even with Britain itself the history of the monastery was connected, for the two bishops Germanus and Lupus, who in the fifth century were sent to combat Pelagianism in our island, were both disciples of Lerins.

When Augustine and his followers reached this venerable place, the monastery was no longer what it had been. Never­theless, the missionaries were entertained very hospitably by Abbat Stephen and his brethren, and they noticed with delight the peace and harmony which appeared to reign among the members of the happy community.¹ It was doubtless with heavy hearts that they turned away from that friendly resting- place to begin their perilous journey into the unknown land. After Lerins the course they pursued is doubtful, but it seems probable that they passed by way of Marseilles—where Aregius the Burgundian governor received them kindly—to Aix, where they were welcomed by Bishop Protasius. Here, however, their courage failed them. The inhabitants of Gaul, who still remem­bered the horrors of the Saxon incursions, filled the missionaries’ ears with dreadful tales about the nation, whose savage ferocity seems to have been reckoned their leading characteristic® They told the trembling monks that the people to whom they were going were worse than wild beasts, that they preferred cruelty even to feasting, that they thirsted for the blood of men, that they utterly abhorred the Christian faith, and killed and tortured all who dared to preach it.⁴ In addition to these harrowing rumours which in themselves were sufficient to alarm even the most intrepid, the missionaries were confronted by other diffi­culties of a practical character. Although they were worthy men, “ who feared the Lord,” they do not appear to have been selected for any peculiar personal qualifications for the work they under­took. They were utterly ignorant of the character and the customs of the people to whom they were sent, and, what was an even worse drawback, they could not speak a word of their language. Further, by what seems to us an extraordinary oversight, no written instructions appear to have been given them, and no letters of commendation had been sent out to secure them a friendly reception even in Gaul. It is no wonder that the missionaries, thrown thus upon their own resources, and oppressed by the consciousness of their own inadequacy for the task allotted to them, lost heart and longed to return to the peace and security of their old home on the Caelian. It was unanimously agreed that their leader, who in the event of a successful issue to the mission was to have been consecrated bishop, should go back to Rome and use all his influence with Gregory to procure their recall.

Willingly or unwillingly, Augustine yielded to the wishes of his brethren, and returned to Roma When he arrived, however, he found the Pope immovable. Gregory would not permit the scheme to drop, nor would he accept the offer of resignation. Yet, in spite of the disappointment he must have felt, he was ready to sympathize with the terrors of the mis­sionaries, and sent them by Augustine a very tender letter of encouragement:—

“It is better not to begin a good work at all than to begin and turn back. My beloved sons, you have begun this work by the Lord’s help, you must therefore bring it to completion. Be not deterred by the toil of the journey or the tongues of evil­ speakers, but with all earnestness and fervour press on with what, by God’s will, you have commenced, knowing that great toil is crowned by the greater glory of reward. We are sending back Augustine your prior, and we appoint him now your abbat. Obey him in all things, and be assured that whatever may be fulfilled in you through his admonition will be abundantly profitable to your souls. May Almighty God protect you by His grace, and grant me to see the fruit of your labour in the eternal fatherland; that so, though I cannot labour with you, I may yet share the joy of your reward—for indeed I desire to labour. God keep you safe, beloved sons ’ ”

Gregory did more than send mere empty words of encouragement to his envoys. He set himself, as far as possible, to I obviate the most pressing of their difficulties. To remedy their ignorance of the English language, he commanded them to take some Franks to act as interpreters? To facilitate their passage through Gaul, he wrote a batch of letters to eminent persons whom they were likely to encounter on their route—to the boy-kings of Austrasia and Burgundy, to their powerful grandmother Brunichildis, to the bishops of Tours, Marseilles, Lyons, Arles, Vienne, Autun, and Aix, as well as to the governor Aregius, and the abbat Stephen. Lastly, to ensure unanimity and discipline amongst the missionaries them­selves, and to prevent any future weakness like that which had occasioned Augustine’s return to Some, he made Augustine abbat and gave him full authority over his companions.

Encouraged by the Pope’s letter, and by the measures he had taken for their welfare, the missionaries now set forward in good earnest. Their way led them past places rich in historical associations. First they came to Arles, that “Gallula Roma” hallowed by memories of Hilary and Caesarius, and now in process of being adorned by Virgilius’s new cathedral church; thence they turned northward up the Shone valley, past Vienne, whose learned bishop was still giving public lectures on classical literature, to Lyons, the scene of early martyrdoms. From Lyons they pressed on to Chalon-sur-Saône, the residence of the youthful King of Burgundy, then to Autun, next to Tours, the famous bishop of which, Gregory the historian, had recently passed away. A legend reported by Gocelin takes them to Anjou. At any rate, winter found them at Paris, where they were well received by Chlotochar, king of Neustria, and by the notorious Fredegundis, now not far from the peaceful end of her evil life. In the spring of 597, soon after Easter, they made ready to embark for England.

It was probably towards the end of April that Augustine and his company committed themselves to the flat-bottomed wooden boats which were to convey them to their destination. Unlike Germanus and Lupus, whom, in 429, envious demons are said to have opposed with wild storms, they seem to have had a fair passage, and landed safely on the shore of Britain. “ On the east coast of Kent,” writes Bede, “is the large island of Thanet, containing, according to the English reckoning, 600 hides, and separated from the mainland by (the Stour estuary, known as) the Wantsum.” The gradual silting up of the soil has blocked this channel, but in Bede’s time it stretched between the Roman towns of Reculver and Richborough, in width about three furlongs, and fordable only in two places.¹ At the mouth of this inlet a sandspit jutted out from Thanet into the waves, called originally “ Ypwine’s Fleet ”—the more familiar Ebbsfleet. Here, about 450, the Jutes, under the legendary leadership of Hengist and Horsa, first landed upon British soil. And here, in all probability, nearly a hundred and fifty years later, Augustine and his band of missionaries disembarked.

To those who are attentive to the parallels of history, a com­parison of these two landings cannot fail to prove instructive. Each marked the beginning of a revolution in the fortunes of this island. In each case the precursors of the revolution were few in number. Three warships, it is said, were sufficient to transport the Jutish warriors; and Augustine’s company con­sisted of some forty men. But, as the Jutes were the forerunners of a great multitude from Germany, so the Romans prepared the way for the forces of Western civilization. The mission of the Jutes was destructive. They came with fire and sword, to extirpate the remnants of Roman colonization, to sever the ties which bound the island to the continent, and to mould it into a small isolated world of their own. The mission of Augustine was reconstructive. To him it was given to heal the breach which the Jutes had made, to restore the Roman in­fluence in Britain, to replace the name of Britain in the cata­logue of civilized nations. The second landing at Ebbsfleet was certainly, to a great extent, “a reversal and undoing” of the first. It signified the return of the Romans to the land of Caesar’s triumphs, the bringing back of Roman language, Roman thought, Roman culture, Roman religion, and even in some measure Roman law, to the new home of the English peoples. It was the retort of the West to the challenge of the Northmen, the last act in the drama of Roman conquest in Britain.

So soon as the missionaries found themselves on English soil, they sent a message to King Ethelbert, to the effect that “they had come from Rome with the best of tidings, even the assurance to all who would accept it, of eternal joys in heaven and a kingdom without end with the living and true God.” Ethelbert, however, was not the man to commit himself hastily. He had no intention of imperilling his influence or popularity by any rash or ill-considered act. On the other hand, he had seen something of Christianity as practised by the queen and her chaplain, and he was not unkindly disposed towards the foreign cult. He accordingly sent word to the missionaries to remain where they were until he had taken counsel what was to be done, and in the mean time he promised to supply their wants.

A few days afterwards the king accorded an interview to the new-comers. But first he took precautions to protect him­self against possible danger. A firm belief in the baleful power of magic and incantation was one of the prime articles in the creed of Anglo-Saxon heathenism, and Ethelbert had a wholesome fear of being bewitched.¹ He determined, therefore, to confront Augustine in the open air, where, if he chanced to be a magician, his spells would have less potency than within doors. The meeting probably took place at Richborough, and the scene must have been striking. On one side were Ethelbert and his nobles, a brilliant group, with their bright cloaks and coloured leg-bands, embroidered belts girding their linen tunics, and golden rings and sword-hilts glittering in the sunshine. On the other side, in curious contrast, the monks advanced in slow procession, bearing before them a great silver cross and a picture of the Saviour painted on a gilded board, and chanting solemn litanies, “entreat­ing the Lord to save both them and those to whom they came.” The sacred emblems, the chanting in the unknown tongue, the stately form of Augustine towering head and shoulders above his companions, must have produced no slight impression on the English. Nor, doubtless, was this lessened when the handsome Roman, sitting at the king’s command, began to tell, through interpreters, “how the pitiful Jesus by His own agony had redeemed the sinful world, and opened the kingdom of heaven to all believers.” When the sermon was over, Ethelbert made a friendly answer: “Beautiful words and promises are these, but they are strange and doubtful, and I cannot agree to them and desert the faith which I and the whole English nation have so long upheld. But since you have come from afar to make known to us what you believe to be best and truest, we will not harm you; rather we will treat you kindly and supply all your needs, and we give you per­mission to bring over such as you can to your belief.” The straightforward fairness of this speech is beyond praise. Yet Ethelbert was not only fair; he was generous. In Canterbury itself, the metropolis of his kingdom, built upon the site of the old Roman town of Durovemum, he allotted a residence to the missionaries.

Durovemrnum was once a walled town of considerable military importance, being the point at which the several roads from Reculver, Richborough, and Dover merged on their way to London. But when Augustine first set eyes upon it, the ancient Roman walls enclosed for the most part a dreary ruin. The wooden dwellings of Ethelbert and his Kentishmen, which had gradually been extending from the site of the first small settlement beyond the north-eastern wall, occupied as yet but a small portion of the ancient area; and when the Roman mis­sionaries looked for the first time on the scene of their future labours, the prospect must have seemed a little cheerless. Yet they pressed on hopefully, passed the Roman chapel named after St. Martin,¹ where Bishop Liudhard was accustomed to officiate, and as they entered the city formed up in procession, and, raising aloft the silver cross and the picture of the Crucified, com­menced to chant the solemn antiphon which they had heard, perhaps, in Gaul upon Rogation Days: “We beseech Thee, 0 Lord, according to all Thy mercy, let Thine anger and wrath be turned away from this city and from Thy holy house, for we have sinned? Alleluia I ” So, after many years, the Romans once more passed through the gates of Roman Durovemum.

Ethelbert appointed them a dwelling at the Stable-gate, “in the parish of St. Alphege, over against the King’s Street, on the north”; and here, says Bede, the monks “ lived after the fashion of the early Church, giving themselves to frequent prayers, watchings, and fastings, preaching the word of life to as many as they could, despising all worldly things as alien to them, receiving only bare necessaries from those they taught, practising in all things their precepts, and ever prepared to suffer any adversity, or even to die for the truth which they proclaimed.” They shared St. Martin’s Church with Liudhard, and here they were constantly to be found, chanting the psalms, or preaching, or offering masses, or baptizing those whom they converted. For the influence of these quiet evangelists soon made itself felt in the community, and not a few Kentishmen embraced the faith, “ admiring the simplicity of their innocent life, and the sweetness of their heavenly doctrine.”

The successes of Augustine may well have encouraged Queen Bertha to make a special effort for the conversion of her husband, and her endeavours, seconded by the prayers and preaching of the missionaries, at last produced an effect On the 1st of June 597, which was the eve of Whit-Sunday, there was enacted a scene of tremendous import for the future of English Christianity. About two o’clock in the afternoon, King Ethelbert, arrayed in his white baptismal robes, betook himself to St Martin’s Church, where a great concourse had doubtless already assembled. When the lessons with their appropriate collects had been recited at the altar, the choir began to chant a litany, and the clergy walked in solemn procession to the font Here were said the prayers of Benediction, and the sign of the cross was made in the water. Then Augustine, turning to Ethelbert, put to him the interrogatories: “Dost thou believe in God the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth?” “I believe.” “Dost thou believe also in Jesus Christ His only Son our Lord, who was bom and suffered?” “I believe.” “Dost thou believe also in the Holy Ghost, the Holy Catholic Church, the Communion of Saints, the Forgiveness of Sins,- the Resurrection of the Flesh, and the Life everlasting? ” “I believe.” Then: “Wilt thou be baptized?” “I will.” Water was thrice poured over the king as the baptismal formula was uttered, and afterwards the sign of the cross was made on his head with the chrism, and the short prayer was said: “Almighty God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who hath regenerated thee by water and the Holy Ghost, and hath given to thee remission of all thy sins, anoint thee with the chrism of salvation unto eternal life.”

After this fateful day—“dies Anglis et Angelis solemnissimus”—the work of conversion went on apace. The example of the king naturally produced a profound impression. And though he wisely refrained from enforcing Christianity on his subjects, yet the greater affection which he manifested towards believers was an incentive to others to embrace the new religion. Thus, in the words of Bede, “greater numbers began daily to flock together to hear the Word, and, forsaking their heathen rites, to associate themselves by believing with the unity of the Church of Christ.”

It is not without a pathetic significance that one week after Ethelbert’s baptism, which marked the triumph of the Boman missionaries in the south, there passed away, in the northern island of Iona, the fine old Irish missionary and saint, Columba. He had come from Ireland in the year 563, with twelve companions, to preach to his fellow-Scots in British Dalriada. Having gained the favour of King Conall, he founded, on the barren little island of Hy, the famous monastery which was destined to become the principal source and the centre of the Christianity of the north. Here Columba lived for more than thirty years, leading the double life of a missionary and a monk. Hence he issued forth on preaching expeditions to convert the heathen Picts, visiting King Brude in his fortress, overcoming the opposition of the Druids, and by his miracles and teaching planting the seeds of Christianity in the hearts of the wild people. Here, at other times, he gave himself to watching and fasting, spending long hours of wintry nights in prayer, and sometimes continuing for days together in ecstatic trance. Here he received the crowds of visitors who flocked to him from all sides, some to be received as monks, some to get absolution for their crimes, some to be helped or healed of their diseases, or advised. And here at the last, some time after midnight on Saturday, the 8th of June 597, the noble spirit of the greatest of the Irish monks passed to its rest.

There are few passages in literature more affecting than Adamnan’s description of the last day of the old saint’s toilsome life. Those closing scenes made an impression on those who were present, such as none could ever forget; and they have been recorded for us with a fulness and truthfulness of detail which may enable us to realize what Columba was and how he attracted men, far better than all the narratives of the miracles which he wrought and the visions which he saw. The story is further interesting as the only detailed account which we possess of the last hours of any of the great Christian saints of this period.

“It was the last day of the week, and the saint, with his dutiful attendant Diormit, went to the nearest bam to bless it. When he had entered and had blessed the two heaps of com that were stored therein, he thanked God, saying: ‘ I am very glad for my monks, since, if I am to depart from you this year, you will have enough com to last.’ Now, when Diormit, his attendant, heard this, he began to be sorrowful, and said: This year, my father, you often trouble us by talking of your departure from us.’ To whom the saint replied: I have a little secret for you, which will tell you more plainly of my end, but you must promise faithfully to repeat it to no one before I am gone. When the attendant, on his knees, had given the promise which the saint required, the holy man went on: This day in the sacred volumes is called the Sabbath, which is by interpretation, Rest. And for me this day is a Sabbath indeed, for it is the last of my toilsome life, and on it, after all my weary labours, I shall rest. In the middle of the solemn night of the Lord’s Day which is at hand, according to the saying of the Scriptures, I shall go the way of my fathers. Already my Lord Christ Jesus deigns to invite me, and in the middle of the night, as He bids me, I shall go to Him. For thus has it been revealed to me by the Lord Himself. Then the attendant, hearing these sad words, wept bitterly. But Columba sought to comfort him as well as he could.”

They left the granary to return to the monastery, but half­way back the saint, whose feeble strength was soon exhausted, sat down to rest beside the road at a spot where afterwards a cross was placed, to commemorate the touching scene now witnessed there. Columba had always been distinguished for his love of animals, and now, at the end of his life, he was to receive a striking proof of the affection which they felt in return for him. An old white horse, “the faithful servant which for many years had carried the milk-pails between the cow-house and the monastery,” drew near, and laid its head upon Columba’s breast, and, as though it knew that it would never see its master any more, began to moan, “ shedding tears abundantly like a human being.” Diormit would have driven the creature away, but the saint forbade him, saying: “Let him alone. As he loves me so, let him weep his bitter sorrow on my breast. Lo! you, though you are a man and have a rational soul, would have known nothing about my near departure, had I not told you ; but to this brute animal without a reason, the Creator has revealed, in whatever way He willed, that his master is about to leave him.” With these words he stretched out his hands and blessed his old servant the horse, and the beast went sorrowfully away.

After this they climbed the little hill above the monastery, and Columba, standing awhile upon the top, lifted up both hands and blessed the monastery, saying: “ This place is small and of no reputation, yet not only the Scotic kings with their peoples, but even the rulers of strange and foreign nations with their subjects, shall confer great honour on it, and by the saints also of other Churches it shall be held in great respect.”

Even when they returned to the monastery, the old man could not be idle, so he sat in his little hut, busy on his favourite work of transcribing the Psalter. In after-years it was noticed, as a happy coincidence, that the last words he wrote were those of the thirty-fourth Psalm : “But they who seek the Lord shall want no manner of thing that is good.” When he had finished the page on which he was engaged, it was time for Nocturns. Columba went to the chapel, and, after the service was over, returned to his hut, and sat down upon the bare rock which for many years had served him as a bed. Sitting there through the brief watches of the summer night, he gave to his attendant, who alone was with him, a last charge to the brethren. “ These my last words, 0 my children, I com­mend to you, that you be at peace and have sincere love one towards another. And if you thus live, following the example of the holy fathers, God, the Comforter of righteous men, will help you, and I, abiding with Him, will intercede for you; and not only will He supply you in abundance with such things as are necessary for this present life, but He will also grant unto you the rewards of the eternal blessings, which are laid up for them that keep the commandments of God.” These were the saint’s last words. The longed-for hour of his departure was at hand, and he sat in silence waiting for the call.

It came to him a little before daybreak, when the striking of a bell summoned the sleeping monks to Matins. At the sound Columba rose, and, hurrying into church before the rest, fell on his knees beside the altar. Diormit, following more slowly, fancied that he saw in the distance a blaze of angelic light flashing around the saint, but when he crossed the threshold of the chapel, all was dark. Groping his way in, he cried aloud in distress, “Where are you, my father?” But there was no answer. Still groping his way, he found Columba stretched upon the ground before the altar, and, sitting down beside him, he raised him a little and laid his head upon his bosom. Meanwhile the rest of the monks came hurrying in with lights, and began to weep sore when they saw their abbat dying. Through their tears, however, they noticed that Columba’s eyes were raised, and that he gazed around him with such wonderful joy, that they fancied he beheld the angels coming to receive him. He could no longer speak to them, but with Diormit’s help he contrived to raise his right hand and make the sign of benediction. It was the last effort, and immediately afterwards his spirit departed. “And when the soul had left the taber­nacle of the body, his face remained so bright, so wonderfully gladdened by the angelic vision, that he seemed not to be dead, but as one who was alive and slept. Meanwhile the whole church re-echoed with mournful lamentations.”

Such was the passing of Columba. But far away in Borne, Pope Gregory was anxiously waiting to hear how his Augustine fared among the heathen, in utter ignorance, it appears, of the great work which for more than thirty years the Irish monks had been carrying on in Northern Britain. Indeed, there is no more remarkable proof of the isolation of the contem­porary Irish Church from the rest of Christendom, than the absence of any reference or allusion to it in Gregory’s correspondence. With all the other branches of the Catholic Church in the West Gregory was brought into contact in the course of his pontificate; with the Church in Ireland and Britain alone he held no communication. Nevertheless, the Irish legends would make out that Columba’s work, and even Columba himself, was known to Gregory. One of them relates that “at a time when Columkille was in Hy, without any attendant but Baithene only, it was revealed to him that guests had arrived, namely, seven of Gregory’s people, who had come to him from Rome with gifts, to wit, the Great Gem of Columkille (which is a cross at the present day), and the Hymns of the Week, that is a book with hymns for each night of the week, and other gifts.” Another story tells that when King Brandubh was killed, the demons carried off his soul into the air. “And they passed over Hy, and Columkille heard them while he was writing, and he stuck the style into his cloak, and went to the battle in defence of Brandubh’s soul. And the battle 'passed over Rome, and the style fell out of Columkille’s cloak and dropped in front of Gregory, who took it up in his hand. Columkille followed the soul of Brandubh to heaven. When he reached it the congregation of heaven were at celebration, namely, ‘Te decet hymnus,’ and ‘Benedic anima mea’. and £ ‘Laudate pueri Dominum’; and this is the beginning of the celebration of heaven. And they brought Brandubh’s soul back to his body again. Columkille tarried with Gregory, and brought away Gregory’s brooch with him, and it is the hereditary brooch of the coarb of Columkille to this day. And he left his style with Gregory.” Wildly fanciful though these stories may be, they are interesting as illustrating the tendency of later times to connect all the prominent saints of this period in some way or other with the great Pope Gregory.

With the baptism of Ethelbert ends the first act of the conversion of the English. So far the Boman mission had been an unqualified success. All Kent was in a fair way to become Christian, and there was hope that, by means of the “ imperium ” wielded by Ethelbert, the new religion would spread yet further among the neighbouring kingdoms. With this prospect before him, Augustine deemed it advisable to act without delay on the instructions he had previously received from Gregory, and get ordained to the episcopate. He accordingly crossed to Gaul, and sought out the metropolitan see of Arles, the bishop of which, Virgilius, had received from Gregory two years before the pallium and the vicariate? And here, in the autumn of 597—the traditional date, November the 16th, can scarcely be right—he was consecrated by Virgilius and his suffragans, “Arch­bishop of the English.” The title, presupposing as it does a political unity at this time non-existent among the English peoples, was, if premature, at least prophetic. For in making the ideal unity into a reality, no one helped more than Augustine and his successors. The religion taught by them, the common government, institutions, and services of the common Church, were more efficacious in welding together the isolated kingdoms than was even the bond of a kindred origin. Christianity was a potent factor in the creation of the English nation.

Meanwhile the work in Kent had been going forward without interruption, and when Augustine returned from Gaul he found to his delight a great multitude of new converts awaiting him. On Christmas Day, 597, more than ten thousand persons were baptized by him, probably in the Swale, near the mouth of the Medway. King Ethelbert, too, treated the missionaries with increasing kindness and generosity. There is a story that he even gave up his own palace to them and transferred his capital to Reculver; but had there been any truth in the legend it is scarcely credible that Bede should have made no allusion to it. The tale is most probably an invention of the clergy of Canterbury, based upon the ecclesi­astical fiction of the Donation of Constantine. But though Ethelbert did not imitate the mythical generosity of the first Christian Emperor, he certainly did assign to the missionaries a residence in Canterbury “suitable to their rank,” and provided an endowment sufficient for their maintenance. Close to his home Augustine found a ruined church, dating from the Roman-British times, and this, with the king's permission and assistance, he rebuilt and dedicated on the mass-day of SS. Primus and Felicianus, the 9th of June, (probably) of the year 603. This, the mother-church of England, like the mother­ church of Rome, the great Basilica of Constantine, was dedicated “in the name of St. Saviour, our God and Lord Jesus Christ.” “In restoring the old fabric,” says Dr. Bright, “Augustine enlarged it into stately proportions and modelled its arrange­ments from the Vatican basilica of St. Peter. The nave had aisles and towers on the north and south: eastward of the choir of the singers there was, as in the present church, a lofty ascent, required by the construction of the crypt such as the Romans call a Confession.' The account extant speaks of two apses, at the eastern and western ends, each with its altar: in the western, against the wall, stood the episcopal throne, and some way to the east of it was an altar which is distinguished from the great altar at the east end, but which, from its nearness to the ‘cathedra’, is thought to have been the original altar, as was the case in St. Peter’s.”

Some time afterwards Augustine reclaimed and rededicated another British church, which had been used as a pagan temple, and is said to have been the very shrine in which King Ethelbert had been accustomed to worship before his conversion. Augustine broke the idol it contained, purified the building, and dedicated it in honour of St. Pancras, the boy-martyr reverenced in later times as the patron saint of children. A reason for the dedication to this particular saint may perhaps be found in the fact that the land on which St. Andrew’s Monastery in Borne was built had formerly belonged to the family of St. Pancras; perhaps, too, since Pancras was regarded as preeminently the avenger of perjury, Augustine may have wished to have some consecrated place where oaths might be administered with more than ordinary solemnity. Close by this church, and like it a little way beyond the city wall to the east, Augustine began to build another monastery—known first as St. Peter’s, and later as St. Augustine’s—and within it Ethelbert was persuaded to erect a church in honour of St. Peter and St. Paul, to serve as a burying-place for the archbishops of Canterbury and the kings of Kent But this church was not finished and consecrated till the episcopate of Laurentius.¹

Shortly after his return from Gaul, probably in the spring of 598, Augustine reopened communications with Pope Gregory. As the number of converts increased, the need for more missionaries became urgent. The harvest—so Augustine wrote—was great, but the labourers were all too few. Moreover, in organizing his new church, the archbishop had met with many difficulties, for the solution of which he wished to have Gregory’s assistance. Accordingly he sent to Rome two of his companions—a priest named Laurentius after­wards archbishop of Canterbury, and the monk Peter the first abbat of the Monastery of St. Peter and St. Paul—who were commissioned to ask for more workers, to make a report of all that had been done, and to deliver a paper of questions on which the Pope’s decision was invited. The messengers arrived in the early summer, and Gregory listened to their story with the greatest joy. He wrote off at once to tell the good tidings to Eulogius, the Patriarch of Alexandria, who had promised to pray for the success of the mission. “ I have told you all this, that you may know that your prayers are no less effective in the ends of the world than your sermons are in Alexandria. For your prayers reach to places where you are not, while your good works are manifested in the place where you are.” Incredible as it may seem, however, Gregory delayed no less than three years before answering the letter of Augustine himself. Bede, indeed, says that the replies were sent “without delay”; but letters entrusted to the returning monks are dated June 601. Such procrastination is all the more extraordinary because Gregory was a man pre-eminently distin­guished for business-like precision. The Preface to the Response (which, however, does not occur in Bede makes some attempt to account for the delay on the score of Gregory’s sufferings with the gout. But illness alone, or even illness combined with the press of other business, can scarcely have hindered the Pope from answering for so long a time. A more probable explana­tion seems to be that Gregory kept back his reply until he could send with it some new recruits for the work in Britain, and that fit men could not be procured in a hurry. Yet even this excuse, though not devoid of weight, is scarcely a satis­factory explanation of a silence so prolonged.

At last, however, Laurentius and Peter became impatient, and importuned Gregory to let them depart. Permission was granted them in the summer of 601, and they set out speedily from Rome, accompanied by a fresh band of missionary monks. The most distinguished of these were Mellitus, Justus, Paulinus, and Rufinianus, of whom the first three became conspicuous as the first English bishops of London, Rochester, and York, while the fourth was afterwards abbat of St. Augustine’s Monastery at Canterbury. The route followed by this second mission is uncertain. They had letters of commendation to Queen Bruni- childis, to Theodoric, king of Burgundy, and to the bishops of Toulon, Marseilles, Gap, Arles, Vienne, Lyons, and Chalon- sur-Sadne.⁴ So far their course is clearly the same as that which Augustine and his companions had formerly taken; for the letter to the Bishop of Gap (supposing him to be in his episcopal city) could be delivered by some members of the party making a detour to that place and rejoining the rest at Vienne or Lyons. But after Chalon we are unable to follow them. They had letters to Theudebert, king of Austrasia, to the Bishop of Metz, to Chlotochar of Neustria, and to the bishops of Angers, Rouen, and Paris? That they were intended to visit all these places is scarcely probable. Gregory doubtless felt that until the missionaries reached Chalon they would be unable to decide definitely upon their further course, and he accordingly gave them such recommendations as would be likely to serve them on whatever route they finally determined to pursue.

The monks carried with them some presents to King Ethelbert, and a quantity of articles which the Pope deemed “necessary for the service and ministry of the Church” in England—“sacred vessels, and vestments for the altars, ornaments for the churches, dresses for the priests and clergy, relics of the holy Apostles and martyrs, and several books.” These last are said to have been of great beauty, written upon rose-coloured leaves, adorned with miniatures, and enclosed in splendid silver cases set with precious stones. In the Bodleian at Oxford, and in the library of Corpus Christi College at Cambridge, are two ancient manu­scripts, copies of the Gospels, which have been thought to have once formed part of Gregory’s gift. But the Oxford manuscript, at any rate, is not earlier than the middle of the seventh century.

Together with these presents Gregory entrusted to the missionaries some very interesting letters.

Two of them were complimentary letters to the king and the queen. To Bertha the Pope wrote, thanking her for the help which she had rendered to Augustine, and exhorting her in earnest terms to strengthen her husband in the love of the Christian faith, that through her the mercy of God might work for the conversion of the English, as once it had worked through Helena for the conversion of the Romans. In his characteristic way Gregory mingles in his letter somewhat of bitter and sweet. He cannot refrain from rebuking Bertha for her carelessness in allowing Ethelbert to remain so long in heathenism, but at the same time he flatters her vanity as a queen and a woman, by telling her that her recent good works have attracted the attention even of "the Most Serene Emperor at Constanti­nople.” King Ethelbert, likewise, was addressed in a style of mingled compliment and admonition. Gregory seems to have considered the king too lukewarm in the propagation of the gospel among his subjects; he desired that the true religion should be spread among the English by any means, even, if necessary, by force. “Almighty God,” he wrote, “places good men in authority that He may impart through them the gifts of His mercy to their subjects. And this we find to be the case with the English over whom you have been appointed to rule, that through the blessings bestowed on you the blessings of heaven might be bestowed on your people also. Therefore, my glorious son, guard with all care the grace you have received from God. Hasten to extend the Christian faith among your subjects, increase your righteous zeal for their conversion, put down the worship of idols, destroy the temples, build up your people in all purity of life, by exhortations, by threats, by encouragements, by punishments, by setting a good example yourself, so that in heaven you may receive a recompense from Him, the knowledge of whose Name you will have magnified upon earth. For He will render your name more glorious to posterity, as you seek and preserve His honour among men.”

It will be noticed that in this letter Gregory charges Ethel­bert to destroy the heathen temples. On further consideration, however, he came to the conclusion that a milder course, such as, after all, was most in accordance with the policy hitherto followed by the Roman Church, would in the end be more effective, particularly in a country where the people had so recently abjured their heathenism. He therefore despatched a special messenger after the missionaries, bearing a letter to Mellitus with fresh instructions on this matter. “Since the departure of our monks who are with you, we have felt very anxious because we have received no tidings of the success of your journey. But when Almighty God shall bring you to our most reverend brother, Bishop Augustine, tell him that after long consideration I have decided that the idol-temples of the English ought not to be destroyed, but only the idols that are in them. Let them be sprinkled with consecrated water, and let altars be erected and relics placed there; for if the temples are well built they ought to be diverted from the worship of idols to the service of the true God. Thus when the people see that their temples are not destroyed, they may come the more readily to the old familiar places, laying aside the error of their hearts, and acknowledging and adoring the true God. And since they are in the habit of slaughtering many oxen in sacrifice to demons,¹ some change might also be made with regard to this observance. On the day of the dedication, or on the festivals of the holy martyrs whose relics are deposited there, let them make themselves tabernacles of tree-branches round the reclaimed shrines, and celebrate the festival with religious feasts? Let them no longer sacrifice animals to the devil, but kill them to the glory of God for their own eating, giving thanks to the Giver of all things for satisfying their wants. Thus, while they are suffered to retain some outward pleasures, they may the more readily consent to seek the happiness which is within. For it is undoubtedly impossible to root out everything at once from savage hearts, and her who wishes to ascend a height must mount, not by leaps, but step by step.”

It is difficult to criticize Gregory’s direction in this matter without a more precise knowledge of the condition of the con­verted people. The rival policies of iconoclasm and economy have at all times had their advocates, but in each case mere a priori arguments carry little weight. The success of either course of action must necessarily depend on special circum­stances and conditions, which can be known only to the religious teachers working on the spot. We observe that Bede, with his experience of English life and religion, seems to have approved and recommended a policy of “condescension” of the same character as that enjoined by Gregory, and that Irish saints like Patrick and Columba are reported to have acted on a similar principle. On the other hand, the Laws and Penitentials supply us with incontrovertible evidence that these measures of compromise, while making the profession of Christianity easier, were ineffectual in eradicating heathenism. Long after Gregory was dead, the idol-sacrifices, the worship at fountains, stones, and trees, the eating of consecrated flesh, the multitudinous forms of augury and divination, continued to be practised by the people.¹ But whether the continuance of these abuses can be attributed to an initial mistake of a compromise with heathenism, and whether more drastic mea­sures would really have succeeded in preventing their survival, we cannot at this time pretend to determine.

The remaining three letters were all addressed to Augustine. The first was of a private character, its occasion being as follows. The messengers from England, when they came to Borne, reported to Gregory that many miracles had been per­formed by their bishop, which had greatly helped forward the work of conversion. The fame of these wonders had spread to Gaul, and come to the ears of Queen Brunchildis,³ and the messengers were perhaps a little inclined to boast of the circumstance. To question the genuineness of these miracles did not, of course, occur to Gregory; he joyfully wrote to his friend Eulogius that Augustine and his companions seemed to be imitating the powers of the Apostles in the signs which they displayed. He was a little alarmed, however, lest Augustine might be unduly elated by the gift he had received. He there­fore wrote him a special letter, earnestly warning him against this danger. “I know, my dear brother, that Almighty God shows forth great miracles through you among the people He has chosen. Therefore you must rejoice over the heavenly gift with fear, and fear while you rejoice. You have reason to rejoice because the souls of the English are led through the outward miracles to the inward grace; but you have reason to fear lest, while the miracles are wrought, the weak mind should be exalted in self-confidence, and so the very circumstance, which outwardly raises you high in honour, should inwardly cause you to fall through vain-glory. For we ought to remember that when the disciples returned from their preaching with great joy, and said to their Heavenly Master: Lord, even the devils are subject unto us through Thy Name, they heard at once the words: In this rejoice not, but rather rejoice because your names are written in heaven. When they rejoiced over the miracles, they were thinking only of a passing joy, possessed by themselves alone. But they were recalled from the joy which is personal to that which is public, from that which is temporary to that which is eternal, when it was said to them: In this rejoice that your names are written in heaven. For miracles are not wrought by all the elect, but all the elect have their names written in heaven. And the disciples of the Truth should not rejoice save in that biassing which is common to them all, in which the joy is endless. It remains, then, my dear brother, that while God works through you outwardly, you should always strictly examine yourself inwardly, and should recognize clearly both what you are yourself, and how great is God’s favour towards that nation, for the conversion of which you have received the gift of showing signs and wonders. And whenever you find that you have sinned against our Creator in word or deed, bear the fact constantly in mind, that the recollection of guilt may keep down the rising vanity of the heart. Whatever power you have received, or shall hereafter receive, of working miracles, believe that the gift is intended not for you, but for them for whose salvation the power is conferred on you.”

The second letter to Augustine was connected with the gift of the pallium, in this case the symbol of archiepiscopal juris­diction. After a few complimentary expressions, and the usual direction that the pallium was to be worn only during mass, Gregory proceeded to develop a scheme for the constitution of the Church in England. Augustine—whose metropolitan see is assumed to be, not Canterbury, but London—was himself to ordain twelve bishops, who should be subject to his jurisdiction in the southern part of the island. Another bishop, selected and ordained by Augustine, was to be sent to York. If the people in that part of the country received the gospel, the bishop of York was also to consecrate twelve suffragans, and act as their metropolitan. During Augustine’s lifetime all the bishops in the island were to be subject to him, but after his death the archbishops of London and York were to be inde­pendent of each other, the senior taking precedence, but each ruling his own province as metropolitan, each receiving the pallium from Rome, and each being consecrated by his own suffragans. To prevent all misconception or possibility of mis­take, in the conclusion of his letter Gregory repeated his injunction that Augustine personally was to have jurisdiction over all the bishops of the island, both those ordained by himself and by the future archbishop of York, and also all the bishops of Britain, “that from the words and life of your Holiness they may learn the rule of a true faith and a righteous life.” This scheme, based probably on Severus’s division of the island into the provinces of Upper and Lower Britain, shows that Gregory was entirely ignorant of the state of things prevailing in his time. Of the political condition of the country, of the extent of the conversion, of the spirit and constitution of the British Church, he evidently had but the vaguest conception. He legis­lates for the Britain of the Roman period, not for the Britain of the Anglo-Saxons, and his scheme, at the time when it was pro­pounded, was utterly impracticable. Augustine’s metropolitan see continued to be fixed at Canterbury; two bishops only, instead of twelve, were consecrated by him in the south; the province of York remained unorganized; the British bishops refused to submit to the jurisdiction of the Boman. Neverthe­less, although the Gregorian arrangement could not be realized for the moment, the wisdom with which it was conceived has since been justified. With the substitution of Canterbury for London, and some other inevitable changes of detail, the scheme represents, at least in outline, the constitution of the English Church as it exists in the present day.

The third document sent to Augustine was the celebrated Responsa, described by Montalembert as “the rule and code of Christian missions.” It consists of a number of brief replies to questions addressed to the Pope by the Archbishop of the English, and reminds us somewhat of the rescripts which the old Boman Emperors issued for the guidance of provincial governors. The contents of this remarkable document—the authenticity of which is now admitted by the majority of scholars—may be summed up briefly.

(1)     Augustine asked how the offerings of the faithful ought to be distributed, and what relation should subsist between a bishop and his clergy. Gregory replied that it was the custom of the Apostolic See to order newly consecrated bishops to divide the revenues of their Churches into four parts—one for the bishop and his household, that he might exercise hospitality and receive strangers; the second for the clergy; the third for the poor; the fourth for the repair of the churches. But, since Augustine was a monk, he ought to live with his clergy and have everything in common with them, after the fashion of the primitive Church. Clerks in minor Orders (i.e, below the subdiaconate) might marry and live apart, receiving their stipends separately; but “ they must be subject to ecclesiastical rule, and lead a holy life, and give attention to chanting the psalms,⁸ and preserve by God’s grace their hearts and tongues and bodies pure from every forbidden thing.”

(2)     Augustine’s second question referred to differences of ritual in Churches. “In Gaul he had evidently noticed the number of collects in the Mass, the frequent variations of the Preface, the invocation of the Holy Spirit on the elements, the solemn episcopal blessing pronounced after the breaking of the bread, and before the Peace’ and the Communion.” And when he commenced his ministry in England, the question of the admissibility of such divergences from Roman usage became of practical importance to him, since, while he would naturally wish to introduce the Roman rite, Queen Bertha and her chaplain would as naturally prefer to retain the Gallican. So in his perplexity he wrote to Gregory: “Seeing that the Faith is one and the same everywhere, why are the customs of the Churches so different? and why is there one mode of cele­brating mass in the Roman Church and another in the Churches of Gaul?” Gregory replied that in making arrangements for the English Church, Augustine was not bound to conform entirely to Roman practice. He might select whatever rites and customs seemed to him the best either in the Roman Church, or in the Gallican, or in any other, and from them compile a ritual for the English Christians. “For we ought not to value things on account of places, but places on account of things. Choose, then, from the different Churches such customs as are godly and religious and right, and bind them as it were into a bundle, and establish them in the hearts of the English as their use.”

(3)     Again, Augustine inquired what should be the punish­ment for theft from churches. Gregory ruled that the circum­stances of the theft should be taken into account, and the penalties graduated accordingly. “There are some who thieve although they have resources of their own, and there are others who are driven into crime by want. Some, therefore, ought to be punished by fines, others with stripes; some more severely, others more leniently.” Yet he reminds Augustine that in any case the punishment is remedial, and must be inflicted, not in anger, but in charity. Restitution of the stolen property must be made, but the Church is not to receive back more than the value of such property, or make any profit out of her apparent losses.

(4, 5) In the fourth and fifth replies, Gregory settles some points in connexion with English marriages. In answer to Augustine’s queries, he ruled that two brothers might marry two sisters who were not of kin to them, but that the marriage of first cousins should not be allowed, because, although such unions were permitted by the Roman law,¹ yet the offspring of them was unhealthy, and Holy Scripture implicitly con­demned them. But, on the principle of introducing restric­tions gradually among fresh converts, Gregory was willing for the present to permit marriage between second or third cousins, though this concession was doubtless intended to be only tem­porary. Marriage with a stepmother or sister-in-law was strictly prohibited. But since such unions were common among the English, those who had contracted them before becoming Christians were not to be excluded from the Holy Communion. New converts, however, were to be warned that these marriages were henceforth unlawful, and if, in spite of this, they contracted them, they were to suffer the penalty of excommunication.

(6)     Augustine asked whether a bishop might be ordained by a single consecrator, when, owing to the distance, other bishops were unable to be present. Gregory replied that such con­secration by a single bishop was irregular, though it was, of course, valid. At present, he said, since Augustine was the only bishop in England, he must necessarily consecrate alone, for bishops were not likely to come from Gaul to assist him. (Gregory here entirely ignores the British bishops.) But when he had ordained his suffragans—whose sees ought not to be planted too far apart—there should be no difficulty in securing the attendance of a sufficient number of bishops, and three or four ought to take part in every consecration. For, just as married people are invited to weddings, that they may share the joy of the bridal pair, so at that spiritual ordination wherein by a holy mystery a man is wedded to God, there should be present those who can rejoice in the promotion of the new bishop, and can pour forth their united prayers to God for his safe keeping.”

(7)     Again, Augustine asked what was to be his relation to the bishops of Gaul and Britain. To this question Gregory responded that he had no intention of conferring on him any authority whatsoever over the bishops of Gaul. The metropolitans of Arles had received from his predecessors and himself the pallium, and it would not be right to interfere with the authority thus conferred. If Augustine visited Gaul, he might point out to the archbishop of Arles any abuses he had noticed, and stir him up to correct them; and Gregory had himself written to the archbishop, bidding him receive Augustine’s advice in good part, and join with him in putting down abuses. Thus Augustine might promote a reformation in Gaul by advice, exhortation, and example, but he was not to presume on his own account to exercise any authority over the Gallican bishops. On the other hand, all the British bishops were committed to his care, “that the ignorant may be in­structed, the weak strengthened by good advice, the perverse corrected with authority.” The wording of this last clause seems to indicate that Gregory had received from Laurentius and Peter an unfavourable account of the British bishops. The provision itself likewise indicates that he had no conception of the independent spirit of the British Church, which, while willing to yield an honorary primacy to the See of Rome, was by no means disposed to submit unresistingly to the jurisdiction of the Pope or his archbishop. If Augustine shared Gregory’s delusion that the British bishops would quietly acknowledge the Roman supremacy, he was speedily undeceived.

(8, 9) The remaining questions were concerned with certain regulations of ceremonial purity, and need not be particularly noticed.⁸ It is worthy of remark, however, that in discussing the relations which ought to subsist between the sexes, Gregory took occasion to denounce “an evil custom” which some mothers had adopted, “of entrusting their babies to other women to nurse, disdaining to suckle them themselves.” He distinctly repudiates the suggestion that wedlock itself is sin, but he holds that the pleasure inseparable from conjugal intercourse, disturbing as it does the tranquillity of the soul, is not free from sin.

The Responsa is certainly a masterly document, bearing evidence alike of the good sense and good feeling and of the statesmanlike ability of the writer. It is the production of a mind of shrewd practical sagacity as well as of lofty spiritual insight, and confirms the high estimate we have otherwise formed of Gregory’s qualities as a statesman and a saint. But while the answers of the Pope are in every way admirable, the questions which gave rise to them leave us with a rather poor opinion of the intelligence of the archbishop. We wonder, for instance, how a student of the Scriptures could have thought it necessary to inquire whether a man might marry his step­mother; or what, save foolish arrogance, could have induced Augustine to imagine that he was intended to exercise any jurisdiction over the bishops of Gaul. The questions about the regulations of ceremonial purity betray the scrupulosity and narrowness of a monk, who, in his intercourse with the world, was unable to divest himself of the ideals of the cloister. Many of them are such as any man of sense might easily have determined, and even Gregory, as he waded through the tedious list, seems to have became a little impatient. “I doubt not,” he wrote, “ hat your Fraternity has been asked these questions, and I think I have supplied you with the answers. I suppose you wish to have my written confirmation of what, after all, you could say and think for yourself.”

The writing of the letters and the sending of the second band of missionaries brought to a conclusion Gregory’s labours for the conversion of the English. Henceforward to the time of his death, some three years later, he seems to have held no communication with Augustine. His share of the work was finished. He had seen the foundations of the Catholic Church laid in the midst of Anglo-Saxon heathenism, he had sent a supply of noble-hearted missionaries to toil at the build­ing of the holy temple, and he had himself with infinite pains drawn up the plan which the builders were to follow. Gregory had done all he could; the rest must be left to time and the zeal of the missionaries themselves. But Englishmen have not been unmindful of the debt of gratitude which they owe to this great Pope. Already in the beginning of the eighth century he was invoked in England as a saint, and by the Council of Clovesho it was decreed that the festival of “ our father Gregory ” should be kept as a holiday of obligation. “Our very wakeful shepherd and governor,” “our teacher,” “our father in God,” “our preacher,” are among the titles which have been applied to him by the devotion of English churchmen. But perhaps Bede's designation of “apostle” is the best known and the most appropriate. “For we may and ought rightly to call him our apostle, because, whereas he bore the pontifical primacy over all the world, and was placed over the Churches already converted to the true faith, he made our nation, till then given up to idols, a Church of Christ. To others, indeed, he may not be an apostle, but he is to us. For we are the seal of his apostle­ship in the Lord.”

After receiving Gregory’s letters, Augustine took steps to establish relations with the British bishops. Through the influence of Ethelbert, a conference was arranged between him and “the bishops and teachers of the nearest province of the Britons” (i.e. probably of South Wales), “at a place still called Augustine’s Oak, on the borders of the Hwiccas and the West Saxons,” possibly somewhere in the neighbourhood of Malmesbury. The meeting must have taken place in the year 602 or 603. Augustine, says Bede, “ began with brotherly admonition to persuade them to make Catholic peace with himself, and to undertake, in conjunction with him, the work of preaching the gospel to the heathen, for the Lord’s sake.” But it was felt on both sides that the terms of such “Catholic peace” involved the surrender of those racial customs and usages which were considered by Augustine to be a menace to the unity of the Church. And this act of submission the British clergy were not prepared to make.

The Welsh Church at this time was essentially a monastic Church, its whole organization being built up round the monas­teries. Its bishops were members, usually abbats, of monastic establishments, and they seem to have been non-diocesan. Its clergy also were attached to the monasteries, and not strictly parochial. In order to be ordained, a Welshman was obliged to become a member of “the tribe of the saint” (i.e. to join a monastery), Orders being part of the tribal rights, and those who belonged to the tribe, but those only, being entitled to them. The churches too were colonies from the great monasteries, built on monastic land, served by monastic clergy, and called after the saint by whom the monastery was founded. In short, the system of Christianity which flourished in Wales was monastic, not diocesan. The land was covered with a network of religious institutions, consisting of some seven or eight principal monasteries with their colonies, and colonies of colonies. And this was the Welsh Church.

Further, the constitution of this monastic Church was essentially tribal The clan or tribe was its most characteristic feature. “ This idea of a tribe,” says Mr. Willis Bund, “per­vaded each monastery, the whole of the members of which, not only in the monastery itself, but also in all its subordinate houses, were considered to form one family or tribe. ... The monastic family, the ecclesiastical tribe, began to be spoken of as the tribe of the saint, the members of which tribe were all assumed to be related by descent, either actually or in theory, from the saint who had received from the pagan chief per­mission to settle on the lands of the lay tribe. Thus every great monastic establishment was a sort of spiritual clan, in which the abbat was chieftain, the officials represented the heads of the tribal families, and the monks were the tribesmen. All the members of this spiritual clan regarded themselves as related to one another, all lived on common land, and were maintained by common funds, and owed allegiance to a common chief, who was elected when possible from the kindred of the founder of the clan; all, again, as belonging to the clan, had a claim to protection or right of sanctuary, to maintenance and to religious privileges. The tribal idea was still maintained when the great monastery established colonies of its own. The daughter-houses were regarded as closely associated with the mother-house by the tie of relationship. The members of each belonged to the same “tribe of the saint/’ shared the same privileges, and participated in the same worship. Thus, just as secular Wales consisted of groups of tribesmen clustering round powerful lay chieftains, so ecclesiastical Wales consisted of groups of tribesmen clustering round a few great monasteries founded by important saints. In order to possess any religious rights at ail, a Welshman must necessarily belong either to the ecclesiastical tribe itself or to the tribe of the land on which the ecclesiastical tribe was settled. In short, to be a member of the Christian Church in Wales meant simply being connected with one or other of the great monastic clans. The governing principles both in ecclesiastical and secular society were at this period entirely tribal.

This tribal constitution of the Welsh monastic Church accounts for the two following peculiarities. In the first place, each of the great monastic clans was entirely self-governing and independent. That one tribe should acknowledge the authority of another would have been a confession of inferiority. According to the tribal idea, a stranger was invariably re­garded as an enemy, and no self-respecting tribe would have submitted to dictation from such a one. Hence the great monastic clans were entirely independent, and subject to the authority of none save their own abbat. There was no common order or common rule. Every member of a clan gave his whole allegiance to his own particular settlement, the privileges and rights of which he was prepared to defend even with arms against the encroachments of any other settlement. In the second place, the religion of the Welsh monastic clergy was to a great extent merely a profession; it was their business as members of the ecclesiastical clan. We look in vain, there­fore, among the Welsh clerics for what are generally considered saintly virtues. Gildas, the Penitentials, the canons of Welsh synods, and the Welsh laws conclusively prove that such virtues were, to say the least, not general. Loyalty to his clan was almost the only virtue of the Welsh cleric. His main object was not to live piously or to spread the Christian doctrines by preaching, but to defend and increase the lands and privilege: of the ecclesiastical tribe to which he belonged. Loyalty to his monastery was the first, and almost the last, article in his code of duty.

Thus, speaking generally, we may say that the Celtic Church in Wales consisted of an aggregate of clans centring in a few great monasteries, which were entirely independent of one another, and over which there existed no superior authority. Archbishops, diocesan bishops, and parochial clergy there were none in the sense in which the Latins understood those terms. The bishops and clergy were all members of the monasteries, and (except those of them that happened to be themselves the abbats) were subject to the authority of the heads of the monasteries. The monastery and the clan were the Welsh Church.

We see, then, that the whole constitution of the Church in Wales was totally distinct from that of the Latin. The Welsh monasticism was not the Latin monasticism, the Welsh episcopate was not the Latin episcopate, the Welsh ideals were not the Latin ideals, and the Welsh ecclesiastical aristocracy was utterly opposed to the Latin ecclesiastical imperialism.

Besides these fundamental differences, there were several more superficial divergences in the customs of the two Churches. For instance, the Celtic rules for determining the date of Easter differed from the Boman in the following three particulars. They based their computations on a cycle of 84 years, “which had been supplanted successively at Borne itself by the 532 years’ cycle of Victorius of Aquitaine, a.d. 457, and by that of nineteen years of Dionysius Exiguus, a.d. 525,—these changes being designed to bring the Roman reckoning into harmony with the Alexandrian.” They allowed the Easter festival to be celebrated on the 14th day of the moon, if a Sunday, and consequently not later than the 20th day of the moon; whereas the Romans allowed it from the 15th to the 21st days of the moon inclusive. And according to them the earliest date on which Easter Day could fall was March 25th, the latest April 21st; while the Roman limits were March 22nd and April 25th.¹ Again, the British differed from the Roman Church in that they did not “perform the ministry of baptizing fully according to the manner of the Holy and Apostolic Church of Rome.” The precise difference is unspecified, and has been conjectured to be the use of single, instead of trine, immersion, or the omission of the chrism or confirmation.⁹ Again, the shape of the tonsures differed in the two Churches—the Latin tonsure being a circular crown, while the Celt shaved the whole front of the head from ear to ear, letting the hair hang down behind. There were other points of difference, but these were the principal ones on which the future controversies were to turn.

There is no doubt whatever that Augustine was placed in an exceedingly difficult position. With paganism pure and simple he was able to cope, but with this peculiar form of Welsh Christianity he was at a loss how to deal. He could make nothing of the grim, shaven abbats, whose religion was irrevocably bound up with the tribal system, and whose interests were entirely absorbed in the maintenance and extension of the rights of their clan. In the face of their unconquerable attachment to their ancestral usages, he found himself helpless. He might lecture them on “Catholic peace,” but such “Catholic peace” could only be obtained by sub­verting the whole constitution of the Welsh Church and sub­stituting the foreign system of the Latins. He might point out that by following their own traditions they were setting themselves in opposition to “all the Churches throughout the world which are in harmony with one another in Christ”; but such an argument fell pointless on the ears of men whose peculiar pride was their tribal independence. Prayers, exhortations, even a miracle, were alike unavailing. At length Augustine, wearied out, adjourned the discussion, on the under­standing that another conference should soon be held, at which a larger number of the British clergy should be present

The place of the second conference is not mentioned, but we may assume that it was the same as before. According to the tradition known to Bede, seven British bishops attended, together with “several most learned men,” especially from the celebrated monastery of Bangor-is-coed (near Chester), then under the government of the abbat Dinoth. A story, which however can scarcely be authentic, relates that, before pro­ceeding to the place of meeting, the British sought out a wise and holy anchoret, and consulted him whether they should abandon the traditions of their Church, as Augustine bade them. His answer was: “If Augustine is a man of God, follow him.” “What proof can we have of this?” said they. The hermit replied: “ Our Lord says, Take My yoke upon you, and learn of Me, for I am meek and lowly in heart. If, then, this Augustine is meek and lowly in heart, we may believe that it is the yoke of Christ which he bears himself and which he presents to you; but if he is ungentle and proud, it is clear that he is not from God, and that you should not receive his words.” “But how,” they asked again, “are we to know this?” “Contrive,” was the answer, “ that Augustine and his people reach the place of meeting before you. If he rises at your approach, then listen obediently to him, knowing that he is the servant of Christ; but if he despises you and will not rise to greet you, though you are the larger party, then treat him also with contempt.”

The advice of the hermit was acted upon. When the British arrived at the place of meeting, Augustine was sitting in his chair, and for some reason, whether to assert his archiepiscopal dignity or because he despised these half-savage, half-pagan Welshmen, he did not rise. The tactless discourtesy enraged the delegates, who condemned him as a proud foreigner, and steadily contradicted everything he said. Augustine made them a speech which was scarcely calculated to conciliate. “Although many of your usages are contrary to ours, and indeed to the usages of the whole Church of God, yet, if you will obey me in these three things—if you will celebrate Easter at the proper time; if, in accordance with the custom of the holy Roman and Apostolic Church, you will complete the ministry of baptism by which we are born again to God; and if you will join us in preaching the Word of God to the English,—we will quietly tolerate your other usages, though contrary to ours.” The reply of the British clergy was that they would do none of these things, nor would they have Augustine for their archbishop. “If he will not rise up to greet us now,” so they said among themselves, “he will despise us as utterly worthless when we are his subjects.” Finding them immovable in their determi­nation, Augustine uttered a stem warning, “If you will not accept peace with brethren,” said he, “you will have to accept war from enemies; if you will not preach to the English the way of life, you will suffer the punishment of death at English hands.” Years after, when at the battle of Chester numbers of British clergy were ruthlessly butchered by Ethelfrid the Destroyer, the words of Augustine were remembered and acknowledged to be prophetic.

Augustine had failed; the British bishops would have none of him. Stiff Roman monk as he was, he had no notion how he ought to treat his adversaries. He tried to impress them with his dignity, but only succeeded in enraging them. He tried to win them by concessions, but they wished for no con­cessions from one whose authority they did not recognize. He rebuked them harshly and threatened them, and his threats com­pleted the rupture. Certainly in his dealings with the Welsh­men Augustine made many mistakes, yet it is only fair to admit that, where he failed, even the most tactful diplomatist would scarcely have succeeded. Had Gregory himself been there, with all his charm and courtesy, with his skilful method of combining pliancy with firmness, and his readiness to yield in lesser matters if he could carry his main point, even he would not have fared much better. The Romans necessarily asked too much. Their demands implied the overthrow of the Church settlement in Wales, the abrogation of the independence and freedom which that Church had hitherto enjoyed, the annihila­tion of its most distinctive usages, and the imposition of a foreign yoke which it had never hitherto at any time admitted. Such demands must inevitably have been rejected. The Welsh Christian clung stubbornly to his peculiar form of religion, and resented all attempts to make him accept the religion of Rome. The resistance which Augustine encountered, says Mr. Willis Bund, was due really to the fact “ that he preached a Christianity part of which was the total overthrow of the religion that then existed in Wales. It was not so much a matter of doctrine or of Church government, as of the substitu­tion of the Latin ideas of the Christian faith for the strange amalgamation of Christianity and paganism which was the then existing religion.”¹ The Welsh, in fact, were really fight­ing, not a battle for any particular form or ceremony, but the battle of their own Welsh Church, with all its faults, against an alien Church. It was a struggle for freedom from foreign interference.

Disappointed of help from the British clergy, Augustine was left to do the best he could with his Roman priests and monks, supported by the powerful assistance of Ethelbert. Of his own movements from this time onward Bede tells us nothing, and though legends have been preserved of his wanderings in England, and even of a visit to Ireland, they are untrustworthy. We know, however, that, in the year 604, he made some attempt towards carrying out another of Gregory’s directions, by consecrating two bishops. The see of Rochester was established for the kingdom of the West Kentings, Justus being ordained bishop, and in this new episcopal city King Ethelbert built and endowed a church which, in memory perhaps of the famous monastery on the Caelian, was dedicated to St. Andrew. For London, the capital of the East Saxons— where Saebert, a nephew of Ethelbert, was king—Mellitus was consecrated missionary-bishop, and in this city also Ethelbert laid the foundation of the cathedral church of St. Paul. Finally, feeling that his end was drawing near, and being loth to leave the infant Church of Canterbury even for an hour without a bishop, Augustine (following, says Bede, the example of St. Peter, who is said to have consecrated Clement as his coadjutor and successor) himself ordained Laurentius as his successor in the metropolitan see. It is noteworthy that, although London was now the seat of a bishopric, Augustine made no attempt to carry out Gregory’s wish and fix the arch­bishopric there. He doubtless realized the unwisdom of trans­ferring the centre of Church organization from the capital of Ethelbert, who was so powerful and so well disposed to pro­mote the Christian cause; and perhaps also he had an affection for the place, which had been the scene of his own struggles and triumphs, so that he could not bear to deprive it of its primatial honours. Whatever the reason may have been, Augustine in this respect deliberately set aside the Pope’s instructions, and henceforth the archbishops remained at Canterbury.

On the 26th of May, probably in the year 605, Augustine died. As the Church of SS. Peter and Paul was not yet finished, his body was laid for a time in ground adjacent. But a few years afterwards it was removed to a side chapel of the church, and over the tomb was placed this epitaph: “Here rests the Lord Augustine, first Archbishop of Canterbury, who, being sent hither formerly by the blessed Gregory, Pontiff of the Roman city, and being aided by God with the gift of working miracles, brought King Ethelbert and his people from the worship of idols to the faith of Christ, and having finished the days of his ministry in peace, died on the 26th day of May, in the reign of the same king.”

Of late years there has been a tendency, at least in England, to undervalue somewhat Augustine’s character and work. This, perhaps, is a natural reaction from the extravagant eulogies which it was formerly the fashion to bestow upon him. Augustine was certainly not a great man. Even as a missionary he cannot be classed in the same category as men like Boniface or Francis Xavier. He had little adaptability, little power of dealing in masterly fashion with unfamiliar modes  of life an thought, little originality of conception, little personal charm. He had lived for years in a narrow groove, and he never quite succeeded in escaping from it. He was able to carry out orders, could do the thing that was pointed out for him, but when left to his own resources he was apt to fall into difficulties and to make mistakes. But when we have said this, we have said the worst. If Augustine was a somewhat ordinary man, set to do an extraordinary work in which he sometimes blundered, he was nevertheless a man of sterling goodness, of dauntless courage, of unswerving loyalty to duty, of noble and self-sacrificing life. With dogged perseverance he pursued the path in which his feet were set, never flinching before obstacles or shirking any risk, but braving all things in the cause of Truth. And he accomplished much in the short eight years of his ministry. He laid a firm foundation for the English Church; he made the first decisive conquest, which it became the business of his successors to improve and consolidate. Coming to Britain with almost everything against him, ignorant of the people, of their customs, and even of their language, he managed, in spite of all, to plant the standard of Christianity securely in our island. The man who could do such a work must have had qualities, both of heart and head, which it is sheer folly to despise. To minimize the achievements of Augustine, to underrate his character, to dwell persistently on his failings without taking due account of his counterbalancing virtues, is as stupid as it is unjust and ungrateful.

I will close my account of the English mission with the paean of triumph which Gregory could not refrain from inter­polating into the midst of his Commentary on Job. “By the shining miracles of His preachers God has brought to the faith even the extremities of the earth. In one faith has He linked the boundaries of the East and the West. Lo! the tongue of Britain, which before could only utter barbarous sounds, has lately learned to make the Alleluia of the Hebrews resound in praise of God. Lo I the ocean, formerly so turbulent, lies calm and submissive at the feet of the saints, and its wild movements, which earthly princes could not control by the sword, are spell­bound with the fear of God by a few simple words from the mouth of priests; and he who, when an unbeliever, never dreaded troops of fighting men, now that he believes, fears the tongues of the meek. For by the words he has heard from heaven, and the miracles which shine around him, he receives the strength of the knowledge of God, so that he is afraid to do wrong, and yearns with his whole heart to come to the grace of eternity.”

While Gregory was sending missions to convert the pagan English, and writing admonitions to the Frank princes to stamp out heathenism in Gaul, he was not unmindful of the duty of V converting the pagans who were to be found nearer home. “We have been informed,” so he wrote to the Bishop of Terracina, “that certain persons in your diocese worship trees and do many other unlawful acts contrary to the Christian faith; and we are surprised that your Fraternity has delayed inflicting a severe punishment for this. We therefore admonish you now to make a careful search for these people, and when you have learned the truth of the matter, to cause punishment to be inflicted on them, that the wrath of God may be appeased, and other men may learn from the example what chastisement they will have to expect in such a case. We have also written to Maurus the Vice-Comes to help you in this matter, that you may have no excuse for not apprehending them.” In the islands especially there seems to have been a considerable number of ignorant rustics who still practised idolatry. Thus the Bishop of Tyndaris in Sicily complained that there were idolaters in his diocese, some of whom he had converted, while the rest were protected “by the patronage of powerful people or by the nature of the places in which they lived.” It seems evident that the heathen in question were peasants who dwelt in inaccessible mountain fastnesses, and also that the bishop’s missionary efforts had not been confined merely to preaching. Gregory, however, sympathized with his zeal, and wrote to the Praetor of Sicily, begging him to give every assistance.¹ In Corsica, again, pagans were to be found. Some of them had been converted and baptized, but had resumed the practice of idolatry; others resisted all the efforts of the Bishop of Alena to win them. “ You must try,” Gregory wrote to the bishop, to bring them into the fold of Almighty God, by admonishing them, by beseeching, by impressing on them the terrors of the future judgment, by proving to them that they ought not to worship stocks and stones, so that when our Lord comes your Holiness may be found in the number of His saints. For what work can you do more useful and more sublime than to give your mind to the vivifying and gathering in of souls, and to win an immortal gain for God, who has committed to you the office of preacher ? We have sent your Fraternity fifty solidi to purchase robes for those to be baptized.”

In the island of Sardinia the country people clung to the old heathenism with peculiar tenacity, and Gregory learned with indignation that on the lands of the nobles, and even of the Church itself, there were many peasants who were permitted to continue pagans. To the nobles and proprietors of Sardinia he accordingly sent a strong remonstrance: “Lo! you can see that the end of the world is close at hand, you see how the sword of man and of God rages against us, and yet you, who worship the true God, look on and say nothing, while those committed to you bow down to stones! What, I pray you, will you say in the tremendous judgment, seeing that you have received God’s enemies into your power, and yet you disdain to subdue and recall them to Him?” So also to Archbishop Januarius he wrote: “Should I succeed in finding a pagan peasant belonging to any bishop whatever in the island of Sardinia, I shall visit it severely on that bishop.” To remedy this shocking state of things Gregory sent two missionaries—Felix, a bishop, and the monk Cyriacus—to preach to the pagans, and he re-established the bishopric of Fausiana, where, owing to the scarcity of clergy, there were many pagans “living like wild beasts and entirely ignorant of God.” If the misguided heathen remained deaf to exhortation, Gregory was prepared to coerce them into accepting Christianity. In the case of the heathen “ coloni ” on Church estates, he ordered that their dues should be increased until they were starved into surrender. “If any peasant should be found so perfidious and obstinate as to refuse to come to God, he must be oppressed with the heaviest and most burden­some payments, until he is compelled by the very pain of the exactions to hasten to the right way.” Other pagans were to be otherwise dealt with. “Against idolaters, soothsayers, and diviners,” wrote Gregory to Januarius, ^w we vehemently exhort your Fraternity to be on the watch with pastoral wakefulness, and publicly among the people to preach against the men who do such things, and recall them by persuasive exhortation from the pollution of such sacrilege and from temptation of Divine judgment and peril in the present life. If, however, you find them unwilling to amend and correct their ways, we desire you to arrest them with fervent zeal. If they are slaves, chastise them with blows and torments, whereby they may be brought to amendment. But if they are free men, let them be led to penitence by strict confinement, as is suitable, so that they who scorn to listen to words of salvation which reclaim them from the peril of death, may at any rate by bodily torments be brought back to the desired sanity of mind.”

Gregory’s efforts for the conversion of the natives of Sardinia were to some extent thwarted by the nefarious con­duct of the Imperial officials, particularly the Praeses, who, in consideration of a substantial bribe, was willing to wink at the practice of idolatry. What was still more scandalous, those pagans who had formerly paid for a licence to worship their idols, when they became converted were still compelled to make the payments as before. When Gregory’s missionaries remonstrated against this injustice, the official calmly replied that he had been obliged to pay so large a sum of money to procure his office, that he could only recoup himself by exac­tions of this kind. The missionaries then reported the matter to Gregory, who sent a formal complaint to the Empress Constantina.

Besides the peasants scattered over the island, there dwelt in the mountains near Cagliari a barbarous and idolatrous tribe of robbers called the Barbaricini. This people, according to Procopius, were Moors, who had been expelled from Africa by the Vandals, and had settled in Sardinia, where by their lawless violence they had established a reign of terror. They were all heathen with the exception of their chieftain, Hospito, who was a Christian, and to him Gregory wrote, urging him to bring his subjects to the faith, or at least to give every facility for preaching to the Roman missionaries, Felix and Cyriacus. Doubtless the rough barbarian was flattered at receiving a communication from the Pope, and was quite willing that his people should be converted. The military successes of Duke Zabardas, the Governor of Sardinia, tended to the same result, since he would only grant peace to the vanquished barbarians on condition of their becoming Christians. The tribe did not, indeed, become converted all at once, but the reports of the missionaries seem to have been satisfactory, and towards the end of his life Gregory learnt with pleasure that “numbers of the barbarians and provincials in Sardinia, by God’s grace, were hastening to embrace the Christian faith with the utmost devotion.”

In his treatment of the heathen, as well as in his treatment of heretics and schismatics, Gregory was not less intolerant than the rest of his contemporaries. It is true that, in his natural gentleness, he was averse from extreme measures. He was quite willing to try every means—threats, persuasions, exhortations—before resorting to violence. But when these means failed he had no hesitation whatever in setting a per­secution afoot. Thus we find him prescribing taxes, stripes, imprisonment, and torture for the obstinate pagans in Sardinia; sending soldiers from Rome to coerce the Istrian schismatics; entreating in urgent terms the officials of Africa to organize a persecution of the Donatists; exhorting Brunichildis and Ethelbert to compel their heathen subjects to adopt the faith of Christ. He never had the least scruple in invoking the assistance of the secular arm for the suppression of the enemies of the Church, and it seemed to him quite natural and justifiable to employ force where persuasion was ineffectual. Such an attitude of intolerance was, of course, characteristic of his age, and would scarcely have called for remark, had not Gregory permitted himself, in a remarkable way, to relax his general principle in favour of the Jews.

At this time the Jews were settled in almost every province of what had once been the Roman Empire—in the East, in Greece and the islands, in Africa, in Italy, in Gaul and Spain, and in parts of Germany. On the whole, they seem to have been fairly prosperous. In Africa they carried on an extensive slave trade, in Spain they interested themselves in agriculture, at Constantinople and Alexandria they were en­gaged in great commercial operations, in Gaul they appear to have been rich and powerful. Even in Italy, where they were extremely unpopular, they had been well treated during the period of the Gothic occupation, and the subsequent wars had been to their advantage. Nevertheless, in those countries at least where the Imperial laws remained in force, the Jews were subject to most serious disabilities. They were cruelly taxed, and excluded from all military and civil dignities, though not relieved of the burdens of those dignities. They were for­bidden to intermarry with Christians or to purchase Christian slaves. In litigation between Christians, or between Christians and Jews, the testimony of Jews was not admitted. The free power of bequest was denied them. Even in the practice of their religious rites they were fettered, some of their festivals being prohibited, the use of the Mishna being forbidden, and their Rabbis not being allowed to make their own calculations for the date of the Passover. A Jew who insulted or assaulted a Christian was liable to severe penalties, and he who stoned a Christian or endangered his life was burnt alive. Besides all this, the Jews were continually exposed to danger from out­breaks of popular fanaticism, and from the violent missionary aggressions of individual bishops. Nor was the lot of this persecuted people much improved in the countries which no longer owned the authority of the Roman Emperor. In Spain the laws of Reccared outdid in harshness the legislation of Justinian; and in Gaul, though their condition was better than elsewhere, they were liable to be compelled to receive baptism at the caprice of a Frankish king, or to be hounded from their homes and estates by too zealous bishops.

It is not a little remarkable that, at a time when the hand of every man was against them, when any ardent prelate felt himself safe in attacking them, when the secular powers, if they did not actually join in the persecution, at least rarely took steps to prevent it, the Jews found a resolute champion and defender in Pope Gregory the Great For some reason or other the Pope steadily set his face against a persecution of the Jews, and refused to permit any violation of their legal rights or any attempt at forcible proselytism. Thus when Jews suffered from an injury, they got into a habit of appealing to Borne, and if their complaint was reasonable, they were sure of obtaining redress at the hands of the Pope. The following letter to the Bishops of Arles and Marseilles well illustrates the attitude which Gregory took up on this question:—

“Several persons of the Jewish religion, living in this province, and travelling from time to time on business to Marseilles and the adjacent districts, have informed us that many Jews settled in those parts have been brought to the baptismal font not so much by preaching as by force. I believe, indeed, that the intention in this is praiseworthy, and I acknowledge that it proceeds from love of our Lord. But unless that intention be accompanied by a corresponding influence of Holy Scripture, I fear that the act will bring you no reward hereafter, and that the result in some cases will be the loss of the very souls we wish to save—which God forbid! For when any one is led to the baptismal font, not by the sweetness of instruction, but by compulsion, if he returns to his former superstition he perishes the more grievously from the very cause which seemed to be for him the beginning of a new life. I therefore beg your Fraternity to preach frequently to these persons, and to appeal to them in such a manner that the kindness of the teacher more than anything else may make them desire to change their former mode of life. In this way our wishes will be rightly carried out, and the mind of the convert will not return to his vomit again. They should be addressed with such words as may burn away the thorns of error and illuminate the darkness of their minds, that so your Fraternity may hereafter receive a reward for your frequent exhortation, and may bring to the regeneration of the new life as many of them as God shall give you.”

We have several other letters written by Gregory on behalf of injured Jews. Those at Terracina, for instance, complained that the bishop had turned them out of their synagogue, on the pretext that the sound of their singing was audible in the church; whereupon Gregory ordered that another building within the city walls should be given to them for worship. “We will not have the Hebrews oppressed and afflicted un­reasonably. According to the liberty of action justly granted them by the Roman law, let them manage their own affairs as they think best, and let no man hinder them.” So also Bishop Victor of Palermo, who had seized the synagogue and hospitals belonging to the Jews in his episcopal city, and, to prevent all possibility of restitution, had consecrated them, was ordered by Gregory to pay the full value of the land and buildings, and to restore the books and ornaments which had been carried off; “for just as these people ought not to be allowed to do anything in their synagogues but what the. law permits, so neither should any injury or loss be inflicted on them contrary to justice and equity.” Another complaint came from the Hebrews of Sardinia. It seems that a newly converted Jew, named Peter, had on Easter Day, the morrow of his baptism, broken into the synagogue and deposited there “a picture of the Mother of our Lord and God, a holy cross, and the white baptismal robe which he had put on when he rose from the font.” In consequence of this, the Jews could not use their synagogue, and the Imperial officials did not venture to remove the Christian emblems, while the Archbishop of Cagliari contented himself with expressing disapprobation of Peter’s conduct. Gregory wrote at once to Januarius: “We charge you to remove from the synagogue the picture and cross, for while the laws do not allow the Jews to erect a new synagogue, they do allow them to keep the old ones undisturbed.” Again, he wrote to the Bishop of Terracina: “Those who differ from the Christian religion must be won to the unity of the faith by gentleness, by kindness, by admonition, by exhortation, lest we repel by threats and ill treatment those who might have been allured to the faith by the charm of instruction and the anticipated fear of the coming Judge. It is more desirable that they should assemble with kindly feelings to hear from you the Word of God, than that they should tremble at the immoderate exercise of your severity.” So also to the Bishop of Naples: “Those who really desire to win to the true faith such as are strangers to the Christian religion, should endeavour to effect their purpose by kindly words, not by harsh actions, lest ill treatment should repel those whom just reasoning might have attracted. Those who act otherwise, and under this pretext wish to restrain the Jews from observing the customary rites of their religion, are clearly acting for themselves rather than for God. Do not in future, therefore, allow the Jews to be molested in the per­formance of their services. Let them have full liberty to observe and keep all their festivals and holy days, as both they and their fathers have done for so long.”

Gregory’s own method of conversion by persuasion is curiously exemplified in a letter to his agent on the Papal estates in Sicily: “I have often charged your Affection to take vigorous proceedings against the Manichaeans who are on our estates, and to recall them to the Catholic faith. If you have time, inquire into the matter carefully yourself. If you are too much occupied for that, employ some one else to do it for you. I am also informed that there are on our estates Hebrews who obstinately refuse to be converted. I think it well that you should send letters to all the estates on which they are living, expressly promising them from me a certain reduction of rents in the case of any one who is converted to the true God, our Lord Jesus Christ. And I wish it to be managed in this way: If the amount to be paid by the person converted is one solidus, one-third of it should be taken off; if three or four solidi, then let one solidus be remitted. If he has more than this to pay, the allowance should be made in the same pro­portion, or in such proportion as your Affection may think fit, so that the burden of the person converted may be lightened with­out the interests of the Church suffering too heavy a loss. We are not acting unprofitably in bringing them to Christ through the hope of having their rents reduced. For even if they them­selves come with little faith, there will certainly be more faith in their children who are baptized, so that if we do not gain them, we shall gain their children. Therefore any reduction of rent made for Christ’s sake is not to be considered a loss.” Gregory’s bribe was more effectual than violence, and a number of Jews at Girgenti expressed their willingness to become Christians. On account of the pestilence that was raging, Gregory ordered that those who were anxious to be baptized before the ordinary Easter⁹ baptism, might receive it on any notable festival which occurred after the lapse of forty days, which were to be spent in penitence and fasting. The poor among them were to be supplied with baptismal robes at the expense of the Boman Church.

But while, on the one hand, Gregory would not sanction any persecution of the Jews, or encroachment on their legal privileges, yet, on the other hand, he was equally resolute to prevent the Jews themselves from exceeding the rights guaranteed them by Imperial law. When any such excesses were committed, he was prompt to require punishment. Thus we find him requesting the Praetor of Sicily “to inflict without delay the severest corporal punishment ” on a Jew named Nasas, who, according to Gregory’s information, had “erected an altar to the blessed Elias, and deceived many Christians, impiously inducing them to worship there”; and had also “bought Christian slaves, and employed them on his own service and for his own advantage.” With respect to the last offence, it should be mentioned that the Roman law prohibited Jews from possessing Christian slaves, and even non-Christian slaves of Jews, if at any time they were converted, might at once claim their liberty. These arrangements Gregory upheld, directing that in such cases, if the slaves fled to the churches, they were to be protected by the bishops, and under no pretext were they to be restored to their masters, or any money paid for their redemption. If, however, any Christians had been long employed on land belonging to Jews, they might continue to cultivate it as before, not indeed as slaves, but as “coloni,” paying a fixed rent, but not being liable to other requisitions. In the case of slaves brought by Jews from foreign parts for sale, Gregory ordered that, if they were Christians, they must be sold within forty days, if pagans who afterwards desired to become Christians, they must be sold within three months. If in either case the sale was delayed beyond these limits, the slave became free. It seems that the traffic in Christian slaves brought from Gaul was particularly scandalous, and Gregory at one time con­templated taking the extreme measure of interdicting it altogether. But an influential Jew named Basilius, with several others, managed to pacify him, pointing out that it was only by accident that Christian slaves were bought, and explaining that the authorities recognized the traffic. Gregory, however, though he relinquished his project, sent a strong protest to the kings of the Franks and to Queen Brunichildis. “We are amazed that in your kingdom Jews are permitted to possess Christian slaves. For what are Christians but members of Christ’s Body, who, as we all know, is their Head? Is it not most inconsistent to honour the Head, and allow the members to be trampled on by His enemies? We entreat you to expel this wicked scandal from your dominions. So will you show yourselves true worshippers of God, if you deliver His faithful servants from the hands of their adversaries.” Besides owning Christian slaves, it is clear from Gregory’s letters that the Jews were sometimes guilty of other illegal offences, e.g. compelling their pagan slaves to be circumcised, or buying up the plate and furniture of devastated churches. Such illegalities, when committed, were punished by Gregory, who, in all his dealings with the Jews, invariably insisted on a strict observance of the law.

In speaking of Gregory’s missionary work I have, as is natural, dwelt particularly on the history of the English mission, and on the conversion of the Barbaricini and other pagans in the islands and in Italy. It must not be forgotten, however, that the spread of Catholic Christianity among the Lombards is attributable in great measure to Gregory’s influence; nor should I here pass over without mention his efforts to uproot paganism in Gaul, Donatism in Africa, and the Schism of the Three Chapters in Istria and Northern Italy. Of all the early Popes, there was none who so exerted himself to spread the Catholic faith throughout the countries subject to the influence of the Apostolic See; and of all the early Popes

there is none whose pontificate was distinguished by more remarkable triumphs for the faith. Gregory will always by remembered as a great organizer of missionary enterprises for the conversion of heathen and heretics. The successes that he met with shed a few bright gleams of comfort on the otherwise dreary struggle in which he was continually engaged. The conversion of the Anglo-Saxons, particularly, was perhaps to him the happiest incident of his whole pontificate: it is certainly not the least of all the causes which have contributed to perpetuate his name and fame.