also because the moral demands of the new faith did not seem to the Saxons more onerous than those to which they were previously accustomed. Bede not unnaturally reproaches the Britons for refusing or failing to convert their enemies to the true faith, whereas it had been the habit elsewhere for the Christian priesthood to act as mediators between barbarian invaders and the conquered.

Canterbury seems to have been at once abandoned by the vanquished, because it would have been utterly untenable owing to its position on the main road between the sea-fortresses of Kent and the rest of the kingdom; and it was probably at first unoccupied by the Jutes, so that it remained for many long years uninhabited and desolate. We know that the very name of Durovernum had become forgotten, while the fortresses of the coast still retained their former names without any radical change. This opinion is confirmed by the fact that, while numerous Saxon cemeteries have been found in East Kent—such as at Ash, Kingston, Sarre, etc.—none whatever have been discovered in the district immediately round Canterbury, though the soil has been thoroughly and completely turned over for the purposes of road and drain making, as well as for pits of gravel, sand, and chalk. Moreover, not a single street of our city is on the site of a Roman street, with the partial exception of Watling Street and Beer Cart Lane.

Probably in the early days of the Jutish conquerors Richborough would have been their headquarters, as being conveniently near the coast; and it was not till they had pretty well settled themselves in the country that they fixed on a new capital, to which they gave the name of Cantwarabyrig, "the city of the men of Kent."

The curtain of Christian history is not again lifted over England till the year 597, when, according to the "Anglo-Saxon Chronicle," "Gregory the Pope sent into Britain very many monks, who gospelled God's Word to the English folk." And, connected closely as the mission was with St. Martin's Church, we must enter into it with some detail, though it is an oft-told story, and is familiar even to those who have never visited Canterbury, and know little else of ecclesiastical history.

Gregory had been appointed at an early age "Praetor of the City" by the Emperor Justin II., and had afterwards been sent by Benedict I. and Pelagius II. to Constantinople, where he resided for many years as the representative of the Bishop of Rome. He returned to Rome in 585, and it was near this date that the event occurred which we are now about to narrate. He was at that time about forty-five years old, a monk in the great monastery of St. Andrew on the Cœlian Hill, which he had himself founded; and we may believe that he was remarkable, then as afterwards, for his comprehensive policy, his grasp of great issues, and his minute and careful attention to details in secular as well as religious matters. The vast slave trade prevalent in Europe was to him a special cause of sorrow; and for the purpose of trying to check the evil, to redeem the captives, or to mitigate their sufferings, he was wont to resort to the market-place in Rome whenever a new cargo of slaves arrived from distant countries.

One day, on his visit to the Forum of Trajan, he observed some (traditionally, three) boys with fair complexions, comely faces, and bright flowing hair, exposed for sale. When he saw them, he asked from what region or country they had been brought, and on being told "from the island of Britain, whose inhabitants were of similar appearance," inquired whether these islanders were Christians, or still involved in pagan errors. The answer was, "They are pagans." Then he heaved deep sighs from the bottom of his heart and said: "Alas! that men of such bright countenance should be subject to the author of darkness, and that such grace of outward form should hide minds void of grace within." Being told further, in answer to his question, that they were called Angles, "Rightly so called," said he, "for they have the faces of Angels, and are meet to be fellow-heirs with the angels in heaven. But what is the name of the province from which they were brought?" "Deira" (the land between the Tees and the Humber), said the merchant. "Right again," was the reply, "from wrath (de ira) shall they be rescued, and called to the mercy of Christ." Lastly, on hearing that the king of that province was named Ælla, he exclaimed: "Alleluia! the praise of God the Creator shall be sung in those parts."

Gregory went from the Forum to the Pope (probably Pelagius), and asked him to send to the English nation some minister of the word, by whom the island might be converted to Christ, saying that he himself was prepared to undertake this work with the assistance of the Lord. But though the Pope gave his consent, so great was the love of the Roman people for him, that he was obliged to start from the monastery in the strictest secrecy, accompanied by a few of his comrades. When his departure became known, the people were much excited, and, dividing themselves into three companies, assailed the Pope as he went to church, crying with a terrible voice "What hast thou done? Thou hast offended St. Peter, thou hast destroyed Rome, since thou hast sent Gregory away." The Pope, greatly alarmed, despatched messengers with all possible speed to recall Gregory to Rome. He had already advanced three days along the great northern road when the messengers arrived, and led him back to the city.

Gregory afterwards become abbot of the monastery, and, much against his will, was elected Pope on the death of Pelagius, and consecrated on September 3, 590.

But he never forgot his project for the conversion of England, and in 595 wrote to Candidus, a priest in Gaul, directing him to use part of the Papal patrimony to purchase English youths of the age of seventeen or eighteen years, to be educated in monasteries, no doubt with the intention of sending them afterwards as missionaries to their countrymen.

It was not, however, till the following year that he was able to fulfil the desire of his heart, when he selected as the head of a mission to England Augustine, Prior of St. Andrew's Monastery, and charged him with letters to Vigilius, Bishop of Arles, to the Kings Theodoric and Theodebert, and to their grandmother, Queen Brunehaut or Brunichild. In the course of their journey, however, this missionary band was so terrified by the rumours they heard that they became faint-hearted on the road, and despatched Augustine to Rome to beg that they might be recalled. But Gregory would have no withdrawal, and sent him back again with letters of encouragement to his colleagues. So they went on, crossed the sea from Boulogne, and, either in the autumn of 596 or the early spring of 597, landed in England, somewhere in the Isle of Thanet.

The King of Kent at this time was Ethelbert, who was the most powerful King in England (reckoned by some as the third Bretwalda), and had established his supremacy over the Saxons of Middlesex and Essex, as well as over the English of East Anglia as far north as the Wash: and had driven back the West Saxons when, after an interval of civil feuds, they began again their advance along the Thames, and marched upon London. Ethelbert began to reign in 561. He was believed to be great-grandson of Eric, son of Hengist, a "son of the ash-tree." He had previously, when quite young, been engaged in an encounter with Ceawlin, King of Wessex, and been defeated at Wimbledon. But Ceawlin himself was worsted in 591 by his nephew Cedric at Woodnesbury, in Wiltshire; and Ethelbert had now asserted his supremacy.

Unlike most English kings then, and for a long time afterwards, he had married a foreign wife, Bercta, or Bertha, daughter of Charibert, one of the kings of the Franks in Gaul, reigning in Paris.