position filling this high office after the late scenes of disorder and contention; but Archbishop Richard had no easy part to play. We often find that men of moderate views, and who are, to a certain extent, indifferent to the strife raging around, are unpopular. They please neither party, because both sides feel aggrieved that their cause is not upheld. Archbishop Richard, though he had been Becket's friend, differed from him in his opinions. He imagined he could best further the interests of the Church by remaining quiet, and going on steadily with his duties, instead of declaring himself the leader of a party. I must say I think such a character as this well suited to calm the public storm; and though the writers of the time complain of Archbishop Richard's want of learning and apparent indifference, they feel bound to praise his prudence, his gentleness, and his amiability.

A sad public calamity occurred about this time. The finest part of the Cathedral at Canterbury, which pious hands had reared with such patient, self-denying labour, was reduced to a heap of ruins. On the night of the 5th of September, 1174, a lurid, flickering light was observed to glimmer through the Cathedral windows. The fatal cause was but too apparent. A prolonged shout of public horror rang from one end of the ancient city to the other: "The Cathedral is on fire!" In those days the poorer classes "loved the place where God's honour dwelt," for each man felt a personal interest in his Cathedral. He regarded it as his own property, considering it a privilege to be allowed, in his small way, to help in supporting it. As the lambent flames shot up high in the air, casting an unearthly glare on the surrounding trees and buildings, the monks and people pressed forward, and with ready and willing energy endeavoured to rescue their beloved Cathedral from the fire. It was too late; the flames rose higher and higher. It seemed as if God would obliterate for ever the shameless deed of blood which had desecrated His holy altar. The handsome choir,* which had been the glory and boast of the citizens, was burning, and before long the greater part of the sacred building was a heap of blackened ruins. To convince you that I am not exaggerating the public grief and dismay, I will quote a short passage from the account of one who was an eye-witness of the calamity. After describing in eloquent terms the ruin of the Cathedral, he adds: "The people were astonished that the Almighty should suffer such things; and maddened with excess of grief and perplexity, they tore their hair, and beat the walls and pavement of the Cathedral with their heads and hands.

*The Choir of Conrad.

Many, both of laity and monks, would rather have laid down their lives than that the church should have so miserably perished." He concludes with the following quaint sentence: "That they might alleviate their miseries with a little consolation, they put together, as well as they could, an altar in the nave of the church, where they might wail and howl, rather than sing, the daily and nightly services." *

We have, wisely, perhaps, in our own age, learned to control our feelings better than our ancestors; but it is to be deplored that, in too many instances, we have crushed them altogether. Even an excited and mad outburst like this is far better than the cold, calculating indifference with which too many of us now regard such matters. We must not, however, forget that, as of old, so are there now many truly noble men, who come forward with open-handed zeal to assist in building and restoring the houses of God in our land.

Now that I am talking of the Cathedral of Canterbury, I will just say a few words about the style in which churches were built at this period. Towards the end of the reign of Henry II. a change took place in church architecture. During the reign of Richard I. the ponderous heaviness of the Early Norman gave place to a lighter and far more elegant style. Instead of round arches, and ornaments rudely cut with the axe, we see pointed arches, and mouldings beautifully carved with the chisel. Instead of large massive pillars, we have a number of small pillars, or shafts, as they are called, clustered together, which, although quite as strong as the massive columns, give far more grace and elegance to the building. Salisbury Cathedral, which was finished in the reign of Henry III., is a perfect specimen of this "Early-English" style.

After the great fire in Canterbury Cathedral, the people did not sit down idly in despair, but set to work in right good earnest to rebuild their church; and in ten years' time a far more glorious building arose, the greater part of which still stands; so you see good came out of evil. It is curious to see in this cathedral how distinctly the transition from the "Norman" to the "Early-English" style is marked. You can see the spot plainly where the remains of the old work ended and the new began. The rude axe-moulding and the delicatelycarved chisel-work, the round arch and the pointed arch, stand, side by side, together. The windows of this style are simple, but in admirable keeping with the rest. The east window of the church, which is generally the grandest, is composed of three separate windows, rather high and narrow, the centre one * Gervase, quoted by Dr. Hook, vol. ii., p. 526.

higher than the others. This style of lancet window is used throughout the building, and was filled with rich stained glass. The moulding at the top was deeply cut in the form of a row of dog's teeth. Whenever you see this kind of ornament round the arches or windows of a church, you may be sure it was built about this time. The monk whose account of the fire at Canterbury Cathedral I have already quoted gives also a glowing description of the improved manner in which the building was reconstructed. When you get older, and learn more about this interesting subject of church architecture, you will, I know, be pleased to read his account.

CHAPTER XI.

HENRY II. continued.-1174 To 1189.

ACCOUNT OF THE FOUNDATION OF CANTERBURY CATHEDRAL AND ST. AUGUSTINE'S MONASTERY-RIVALRY BETWEEN THE MONKS OF THE CATHEDRAL AND ABBEY CHURCH REASONS WHY THE ABBEY CHURCH WAS MORE POPULAR AT FIRST-FINAL TRIUMPH OF THE CATHEDRAL-ARROGANCE OF THE MONKS-THEIR RIVALRY WITH THE BISHOPS-MEETING OF THE MONKS AND BISHOPS IN LONDON-ELECTION OF ARCHBISHOP BALDWIN-INDIGNATION OF THE MONKS-HENRY'S SUBMISSION-THEY CONSENT TO BALDWIN'S ELECTION-HENRY'S SCHEME OF RETALIATION-BUILDING OF THE COLLEGE AT HACKINGTON-THE POPE SIDES WITH THE MONKS, AND PUTS A STOP TO IT-TROUBLES OF THE CHRISTIANS IN PALESTINE-EMBASSY OF THE PATRIARCH HERACLIUS-HENRY REFUSES TO HEAD THE CRUSADING ARMY -TRIUMPH OF SALADIN HENRY ENCOURAGES HIS PEOPLE TO JOIN IN THE CRUSADE-FERVOUR OF ARCHBISHOP BALDWIN-PLENARY INDULGENCES.

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BEFORE entering upon the events which occurred during the reign of Richard I., I must give you a short account of what took place at Canterbury during the last few years of Henry II.'s life. But first of all we must go back nearly six centuries, and call to mind one of the earliest and most important events in the history of our Church, namely, the landing of St. Augustine on the shores of Kent, and the subsequent conversion of Ethelbert and all his people to Christianity. I hope you have not forgotten the account I gave you of this great event; if so, I would have you turn to the eighth chapter again, and read it carefully through. After Augustine and his monks had established a Christian settlement in England, Ethelbert, with a zeal and unselfishness which would put to shame many a Christian in these days, gave up his gorgeous palace, that it might be converted into a Christian temple. The cathedral at

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Canterbury stands on the site of the building, and is a lasting monument of Ethelbert's act of devoted piety. Little did he think, as Augustine knelt in that first Christian cathedral, and joined with him and his people in prayer, that for thirteen centuries the praises of the King of Kings would daily ascend to Heaven from that hallowed spot. A short distance from the cathedral church was a temple that had been used by the King of Kent and his retinue for their idolatrous worship before their conversion to Christianity. By the advice of the wise Gregory, Augustine purified this temple from the defilement of the heathen rites, and consecrated it to the service of the true God, naming the church after St. Pancras. Close to this church of St. Pancras, Ethelbert, by the advice of Augustine, built another noble house of God, which afterwards became famous as the abbey church of St. Augustine. Here Ethelbert was buried, and Augustine also, together with many of his successors. At first, peace and unity existed between these primitive Christian churches. The monks of St. Augustine's Abbey worked hand in hand with the clergy of the cathedral, vying with one another in deeds of usefulness. But, in after years, a good deal of jealous feeling existed between them. At first it is certain the cathedral stood second to the abbey church in the estimation of the people. There were many reasons why it should be so. Augustine, the great founder of Christianity among the Saxons, was buried, as I have said, within the abbey walls, together with several of the first archbishops of Canterbury, and Ethelbert, the first Christian King of Kent. In those days, when the bones and relics of famous men were regarded with a reverence approaching to idolatry, people loved and honoured the abbey church because it contained within its walls the bodies of these great men; and the fact that the abbot was always resident, while the archbishop, the head of the cathedral, was more often away, caused the people to feel more interest in the abbey church and less in the cathedral.* Up to the time therefore of which I have been writing, the monks of the Abbey of St. Augustine triumphed over the clergy of the cathedral, while their claim was upheld by the general voice of the people. But soon the case was altered. That great event, the murder of Archbishop Becket, which took place in the cathedral on the evening of the 29th of December, 1170, caused the building to be regarded with peculiar reverence, not only by the English people. but also by the whole of Europe. The scene of Becket's murder and burial became, as I have told you, the resort of pilgrims from every quarter, while the fame of the * Stanley's Memorials of Canterbury, p. 193.

cathedral far outshone the glories of the abbey. The martyred Archbishop Becket became even more honoured than the great missionary, Primate Augustine. From the time these early missionaries landed in Kent and planted the Christian faith at Canterbury, that city had always been the grand centre of the religion of England; and this, together with the causes I have already named, made the monks of the cathedral church a very important body, and caused them to be regarded by the people with peculiar reverence. At all events, they claimed a vast amount of respect, and holding themselves above the bishops, they often behaved with great arrogance and selfishness. The jealousy and bickering between the monks and bishops rose to its height when a fresh archbishop was to be elected. The monks of the cathedral claimed the right of voting before the bishops; and in this claim they were supported by the Pope, who found them most active and useful in upholding his authority. Though many of the monks of the cathedral were excellent men, it is to be regretted that in so many instances they regarded their own dignity more than the peace and welfare of the Church. By their constant quarrels with the King and the bishops, they caused many an infidel to scoff at the religion of Christ.

The See of Canterbury was now vacant, and a fresh archbishop must be elected. In order to arrange the matter amicably, and avoid offending either party, Henry called a meeting of the bishops and monks of Canterbury in London. Gilbert, Bishop of London, a man of eminent holiness and learning, in right of his see, had the privilege of voting first. He chose Baldwin, Bishop of Worcester, to fill the vacant archbishopric. Baldwin had been formerly abbot of a Cistercian monastery, and as he was well known to be a consistent good man, all the bishops present gladly seconded Gilbert's choice. Unhappily, the matter was not to be so easily settled. The monks, considering themselves aggrieved at not having been allowed the first vote, obstinately refused to give their consent to Baldwin's election, and declaring they would appeal to the Pope, they angrily retired.

Henry knew full well the power of the monks and the importance of conciliating them. He was aware also that the Pope would support their authority against the bishops, and in that case there would be little chance of Baldwin's election. Henry therefore hastened to Canterbury. We are told that with streaming eyes, and on bended knees, he prayed the arrogant monks to agree to the bishops' choice. It appears that even the monks of Canterbury were not proof against the tears