Stories from English History Part 3

After he left the slave-market the thought of these fair-faced boys followed Gregory wherever he went. He thought of many plans, and at last he resolved, old as he was, to undertake the long journey to the savage country of England and to teach the true religion to its inhabitants. But when the Roman people found that he was going to leave them, they begged Gregory so hard to stay that he made up his mind that he could not go away into a heathen country while he was so badly needed by his own people at home.

Still he had no rest when he thought that the English were living and dying as heathens. About four years after the meeting with the boys, he was made Pope, and then he saw that his opportunity was come.

A band of forty monks, with an Abbot of the name of Augustine at their head, was chosen by Pope Gregory for the conversion of England.

In those days the journey from Rome to England was a long and perilous one. Slowly the monks made their way through Italy and Switzerland, staying sometimes at the monasteries on their way. At last they were in Gaul, and were able to gain some information about the fierce and warlike people whom they had been sent to convert.

In an abbey near Paris they were kindly received by the monks, who were glad to meet the brave missionaries who had been sent to bring Christianity to the heathen inhabitants of England.

'Perhaps your task will be easier than you expect,' said a monk who had been listening very attentively while the travellers told their tale.

All turned to look at the speaker.

'Do you not remember,' he said, 'that Ethelbert, King of Kent, married Bertha, the daughter of our good King? Bertha is a Christian, and surely her husband will not harden his heart towards those who are of the religion of his good wife.'

The monks were greatly cheered at this news. Messengers were sent to Ethelbert to prepare him for the coming of Augustine, and a few days later the leader and his party landed on the island of Thanet in Kent.

When Ethelbert heard that the missionaries had actually set foot in his dominions, he felt uneasy.

'The Christians are very good folk,' he said; 'my wife is one, and I've given her a little church of her own to do as she likes in; still, I'm not very sure about them; I think some of them are too fond of meddling with magic.'

Still, after consulting with his wise men, he consented to meet the Romans and to hear what they had to say, provided that the meeting should take place out of doors, for he believed that the magic spells would have less power in the open air.

Thrones were placed for him and Bertha on the hillside, and the band of monks approached, bearing a silver cross, and chanting a hymn, with Augustine at their head.

Ethelbert listened attentively as Augustine told him about the Christian religion, and invited him to forsake the cruel bloodthirsty G.o.ds of the English.

'Your words,' he said, when the abbot had finished, 'are fair; but what you tell me is new and strange. I cannot leave all at once what I and my English folk have believed for so long. But let me think over what you say; and if any of my folk will believe what you believe, I will not hinder them.'

The monks were overjoyed at the King's answer. Bearing their silver cross in front of them, they entered the town of Canterbury.

'Turn from this city, O Lord,' they sang, 'Thy wrath and anger.'

Then in joy and thankfulness they sang 'Alleluia' in the streets, while the people looked on and wondered.

Ethelbert gave the missionaries a church to preach in, and he and his people often came to listen to them. So well did the good monks speak that after a little while the king consented to become a Christian, and was baptized, and many of his men with him; and Kent thus became the first Christian kingdom of England.

Many years afterwards, Ethelbert's daughter was given in marriage to Edwin, King of Northumbria. Edwin was a good and wise man; but he was a heathen. Among the people who accompanied the young queen to her northern home was her chaplain Paulinus, and it was the great wish both of Paulinus and of the queen that through their means Edwin might become converted to Christianity.

All that winter Edwin listened to the words of his queen and of Paulinus, and pondered them very deeply.

In the spring he called his wise men together, and asked them to advise him.

Paulinus, the Roman chaplain, tall, thin and stooping, with black hair falling round his dark, eager face, spoke to the stout, ruddy English, and told them about his religion.

The wise men listened very thoughtfully; and they asked Paulinus many questions.

After a while an old man rose up.

'So seems the life of man, O king,' he said, 'as a sparrow's flight through the hall when one is sitting at meat in the winter-tide. The warm fire is lighted on the hearth; the torches are blazing; and the hall is bright and warm.

'But without the snow is falling, and the winds are howling.

'Then comes a sparrow and flies into the hall, and pa.s.ses out by the other door. She comes in at one door and goes out by the other; and pa.s.ses from winter to winter. For a moment she has rest; for a moment she is in the light and warmth, she feels not the storm nor the cheerless winter weather.

'But the moment is brief.

'The short time of rest and warmth is soon over, and she is out in the storm again and has pa.s.sed from our sight.

'So it is with the life of man; it, too, is but for a moment, what has gone before, and what will come after it, we do not know, and no man has yet told us.

'If, then, these strangers can tell us aught of what is beyond the grave--if they can tell us whence man comes and whither he goes, let us give ear to them and think over what they say.'

A murmur went round the hall as the old man showed them by this story that the new religion told them of a life beyond this world, while their own did not.

Then up started Coifi, the chief priest of the heathen G.o.ds whom the king and his people had wors.h.i.+pped.

'O king,' cried the priest, 'there is no man in this hall has served the G.o.ds more faithfully than I, but they have never done anything for me.'

When the wise men had made an end of speaking, the king rose up and said, 'Let us wors.h.i.+p the G.o.d of Paulinus, and follow his ways.'

Then he called aloud and said, 'Who will be the first to throw down the altar of these false G.o.ds and destroy their temple.'

'I will be the first, O king,' shouted Coifi the priest. 'Give me a horse and weapons, and I will overthrow the temple of the false G.o.ds.

Follow me, O thanes, and let us see if the G.o.ds can defend their own altars.'

Then, s.n.a.t.c.hing a sword, the high priest rushed from the hall and sprang upon the king's war-horse.

The king and his wise men followed; and on their way they were joined by a number of people who left their work or the cattle they were tending, and followed, shouting as they ran, 'Coifi the high priest is mad!'

Soon they arrived at the temple. Here the people hung back, afraid to enter, but the priest burst open the door with a blow of his spear, and rode into the wooden building.

The king and his wise men followed, but the others remained outside, wondering what dreadful thing would happen to the mad priest.

Before them was the dark interior of the temple with the altar at the farther end, and the great wooden figure of the G.o.d rising above it; a monstrous thing painted in gaudy colours, with a fierce, cruel grin on its ugly face; and the madman was riding his war-horse in the building.

Surely the G.o.d was about to take some terrible vengeance!

A great crash resounded through the temple as the priest hurled his sword at the wooden figure.

Some of the people ran away; others remained huddled at the door, too terrified to move.

But nothing happened.

There was the figure of the G.o.d still grinning down upon the people as before, without a change in its face. No thunder came down from heaven to destroy the rash priest and his followers who had insulted the temple.

'The G.o.ds are not able to defend themselves,' shouted the wise men.

'The G.o.ds of the English are false G.o.ds'; then rus.h.i.+ng into the temple, they pulled the idol from its place and dragged it out of doors, while the people threw themselves upon the temple and pulled it to pieces.

After that they tore up the hedge that surrounded the temple; and with the hedge and the ruins of the temple they made a bonfire whose flames rose high in the air and were seen far and wide, while in the middle of the fire the idol was burned to ashes.