What my grandmother said

My grandmother said that in her time, there wasn’t electricity so they used oil lamps and possibly candle lamps to read in the dark, they peed outside and sometimes washed in the rivers. That’s what I recall, listening to her about what she said to me about the things she did before.

She also said that she herself was born premature so she was let out in the Sun as a child, though she’s also lucky to live up to her 80s and 90s still running the house and getting help from my own aunt and uncle. So I got much of it from listening to her when I was in her house, some many weeks before.

Some things to consider

No doubt, termites can be a pain in the neck when it comes to ruining documents that I think in earlier times in lieu of plastics people could’ve preserved those documents in metallic and ceramic containers, which would’ve been similarly effective against termites to some extent. That’s if they put a seal on it to ensure more safety, even if that may not always be true.

No doubt, termites can be really annoying to people who love those documents a lot that I think those of earlier times they could’ve put those belongings in vases and if it’s not effective enough, in metal chests for double safety. That’s how I feel they could’ve protected those documents that way, even if that may not always be the case.

(Memorising stuff by memory does have its advantages in those days.)

A history of England, in which it is intended to consider men and events on … (Google Books)

The earls, barons, and knights were now assembled in parliament at Shrewsbury; whilst the representatives of the inferior clergy and of the cities and boroughs sat at Acton Burnell, some miles off; To the former place David was carried, to be tried by the English nobility for treason; and they gratified their sovereign’s evil passions, by condemning the prince to die. But the Romish clergy having now fixed upon burning to death, as the regular punishment for denial of the pope’s authority, men began to think, that not to avenge offences against the king with, at least, equal cruelty, would be undervaluing his honor and welfare. The ministers of Edward, therefore, thought it politic to devise such a dreadful sentence against their helpless victim, as lamentably displayed the truth of that Scripture which saith, the wisdom that descendeth not from above is devilish *. Horrible as this sentence was, too horrible to be presented to the mind without the danger of fostering malignant thoughts, an evil custom is so easily established, and so slowly removed, that, though the light of the Gospel has long dispelled the darkness under which this vindictive sentence for treason was framed, and though the pure teaching of the religion of peace and gentleness, has made it impossible that the government could permit such cruelty now, the judges of the land continued to be required by the law, to pronounce, over every condemned traitor, words wbich never ought to have passed their reverend lips; till a statesman, now living, appealed

• Jam. iii. 15.’

to parliament, and removed for ever this relic of the barbarity encouraged by the Romish church.

Thus miserably perished the last of the 1283, native British princes; condemned to such sufferings for violence, and murder, and infringement of the rights.of a king, by the same warriors who had violently, and with many a murder, deprived him of his rights, as the sovereign of his own people. He shall have judgment without mercy, that hath shewed no mercy*, says the word of that Almighty Lord, to whom both David and Edward were alike subject; and before whom both had offended against this His just decree.

To the Welsh and English nations the events which the folly of one, and the sins of both their ‘rulers had brought about, were full of mercy. For a little while, indeed, each suffered the mischiefs of war. But Wales bemg, henceforward, permanently united to England, the neighbouring counties were relieved from the insecurity and the temptations to violence which, in those times particularly, made borderers at once an unhappy and a wicked people. The Welsh, especially, were gainers, by losing the independence which flattered their pride. In so narrow a territory, the frequent quarrels of the ruling family had disturbed the peace of every hamlet. Their morals were corrupted, by hearing their bards sing the praises of such robbers as most daringly violated the commands of God, if their crimes were but committed on the English side of a brook f. Laws they had; but some of them were such as must not defile the historian’s pen. Others did but display the troublesome little mindedness of those who legislated for the ancient Britons; fixing the exact price at which different articles must be

• Jam. ii. 13.

t Tbere is a popular tale about Edward’s slaughtering the Welsh bards, lest they should tempt their countrymen to farther resistance. It is but an idle story.


sold; as if the farmer could with justice be required to part with a bushel of corn for the same sum when he had a scanty as when he had an abundant crop*. As King Edward was too wise not to desire to conciliate his new subjects, and improve their worldly condition, he took care to have an account of their laws and national customs drawn up for his information; and retaining what was good, he improved and remoulded the rest after the manner in use amongst the English. He also divided their country into shires; and built and fortified such sumptuous castles, as the Welsh, whose princes had lived but in wooden houses f, could not look at without being conscious of their new masters’ superior power. In one of these, Caernarvon Castle, his queen Eleanor was brought to bed of a son, called from hence Edward of Caernarvon; to whom the King 1284. gave the title of Prince of Wales. This soothed the mortified vanity of the Welsh, by showing the high value which he put upon his conquest; and also by making the name of their country to be pronounced with respect. At the time of this boy’s birth, an elder son, Alfonso, was living. But his early death made the young Prince of Wales heir to the English crown; and it has ever since been the title borne by the king of England’s eldest son during his father’s life.

After the subjugation of the Welsh, king Edward visited his French possessions, and was gratified by being solicited to mediate between the French monarch and some other sovereigns; but this honourable employment detaining him abroad near four years, he was obliged to desire his English Feb. 1288. ministers to call a parliament in his absence, and ask his subjects for aid to support his expenses. This parliament met accordingly in London. But the nation being dissatisfied with his continuing so long out of England, the earl of Gloucester answered for the rest, that they would give nothing till they should see the king’s face again.

• This interference of the law between buyers and sellers actually extended down to the prices of cats, which were fixed, in the Welsh statute book, at various rales, according to the age and other qualities.

t By an old Welsh law still extant, whoever burnt or destroyed the king’s palace, was to forfeit one pound and eighty pence to rebuild it; and liO pence more to restore each of the offices, viz. a sleeping-room, kitchen, chapel, granary, bake-house, storebouse, stable, and dog-kennel.

This reply brought Edward home. And to recover the esteem of his people by a conspicuous display of his attention to their interests, he set on foot an inquiry into the conduct of the judges. The result proved that such an enquiry ought to have been made earlier. Only two were found innocent. Weyland, chief justice of the Common Pleas, was declared guilty of having first urged his servants to commit murder, and then screened them from punishment. For this his property was forfeited to the crown; but, strange to say, he was permitted to quit the kingdom in safety. Stratton, chief baron of the Exchequer, was condemned to pay the king SijOOO marks. And, by the sentences passed upon the rest, Edward levied altogether nearly as much more. There must have been dreadful extortion and greediness after bribes, if the judges, whose lawful sources of income were but small, could pay fines amounting to more than the annual revenue raised by the government.

It was, however, a very ill advised system of government which allowed the king of the country to look to the fines, levied for offences against law or justice, as his most fertile source of income. This tempted Edward to set on foot a legal inquiry, as to the proof all landed proprietors could give, of their having a right to the estates of which they were in possession. Not that he wished to restore them to the more lawful owners, if it should appear that the FINES. 79

present possessors were not justified in retaining them; but that the latter might be induced to pay him considerable fines, to have their titles confirmed against all claimants. As very few persons could produce deeds of grant, or purchase, so carefully drawn up that the king’s lawyers should be unable to detect any flaw in them, the attempt to proceed in this inquiry excited great murmurs among the nobility. When the earl of Warenne was asked to produce his documents for examination, he took down a rusty sword, and said, ‘ With this my estates were won, and shall be kept.’ Pride put this answer into his mouth; but it was, in reality, a disgraceful confession, that his ancestors had been robbers on a large scale ; and that he cared as little about justice as they. The boldness of his language however, and the certainty that many would join him in arms, if he chose to demand that this unpopular enquiry should proceed no farther, led the king to stop it, as if of his own accord.

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History for Ready Reference: From the Best Historians, Biographers, and …
By Josephus Nelson Larned

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already mentioned, the best preserved seems to be that built by Demetrias at the third mile-stone of the Via Latina, near the ‘ painted tombs.”… The Christians took advantage of the freedom accorded to funeral colleges, and associated themselves for the same purpose, following as closely as possible their rules concerning contributions, the erection of lodges, the meetings, and the . . . love feasts; and it was largely through the adoption of these well-understood and respected customs that they were enabled to hold their meetings and keep together as a corporate body through the stormy times of the second and third centuries. Two excellent specimens of scholse connected with Christian cemeteries and with meetings of the faithful have come down to us, one above the Catacombs of Callixtus, the other above those of Soter.” This formation of Christian communities into colleges is an important fact, and connects these Christian societies with one of the social institutions of the Empire which may have influenced the church as an organization. “Theexperience gained in twentyfive years of active exploration in ancient Rome, both above and below ground, enables me to state that every pagan building which was capable of giving shelter to a congregation was transformed, at one time or another, into a church or a chapel. . . . From apostolic times to the persecution of Domitian, the faithful were buried, separately or collectively, in private tombs which did not have the character of a Church institution. These early tombs, whether above or below ground, display a sense of perfect security, and an absence of all fear or solicitude. This feeling arose from two facts: the small extent of the cemeteries, which secured to them the rights of private property, and the protection and freedom which the “Jewish colony in Rome enjoyed from time immemorial. . . . From the time of the apostles to the first persecution of Domitian, Christian tombs, whether above or below ground, were built with perfect impunity and in defiance of public opinion. We have been accustomed to consider the catacombs of Rome as crypts plunged in total darkness, and penetrating the bowels of the earth at unfathomable depths. This is, in a certain measure, the case with those catacombs, or sections of catacombs, which were excavated in times of persecution; but not with those belonging to the first century. The cemetery of these members of Domitian’s family who had embraced the gospel — such as Flavius Clemens, Flavia Domitilla, Plautilla, Petronilla, and others — reveals a bold example of publicity. . . . How is it possible to imagine that the primitive Church did not know the place of the death of its two leading apostles 1 In default of written testimony let us consult monumental evidence. There is no event of the imperial age and of imperial Rome which is attested by so many noble structures, all of which point to the same conclusion,—the presence and execution of the apostles in the capital of the empire.”—R. Lanciani, Pagan and Christian liome, eh. 1, 3 and 7.—The Church at Rome “gave no illustrious teachers to ancient Christianity. . . . All the greatest questions were debated elsewhere. . . . By a sort of instinct of race, [it] occupied itself far more with points of government and organization than of speculation. Its central position, in the capital of the empire, and its glorious memories, guar

anteed to it a growing authority.”—E. De Pressense, T/ie Early Years of Christianity: The Martyrs and Apologists, p. 41.

Gaul.—”Of the history of the Gallican Churches before the middle of the second century we have no certain information. It seems fairly probable indeed that, when we read in the Apostolic age of a mission of Crescens to ‘Galatia’ or ‘Gaul,’ the western country is meant rather than the Asiatic settlement which bore the same name; and, if so, this points to some relations with St. Paul himself. But, even though this explanation should be accepted, the notice stands quite alone. Later tradition indeed supplements it with legendary matter, but it is impossible to say what substratum of fact, if any, underlies these comparatively recent stories. The connection between the southern parts of Gaul and the western districts of Asia Minor had been intimate from very remote times. Gaul was indebted for her earliest civilization to her Greek settlements like Marseilles, which had been colonized from Asia Minor some six centuries before the Christian era; and close relations appear to have been maintained even to the latest times. During the Roman period the people of Marseilles still spoke the Greek language familiarly along with the vernacular Celtic of the native population and the official Latin of the dominant power. When therefore Christianity had established her headquarters in Asia Minor, it was not unnatural that the Gospel should flow in the same channels which already conducted the civilization and the commerce of the Asiatic Greeks westward. At all events, whatever we may think of the antecedent probabilities, the fact itself can hardly be disputed. In the year A. D. 177, under Marcus Aurelius, a severe persecution broke out on the banks of the Rhone in the cities of Vienne and Lyons — a persecution which by its extent and character bears a noble testimony to the vitality of the Churches in these places. To this incident we owe the earliest extant historical notice of Christianity in Gaul.”—J. B. Lightfoot, Essays on the work entitled Supernatural Religion, pp. 251-252.—”The Churches of’proconsular Africa, of Spain, of Italy, and of Southern Gaul constitute, at this period, the Western Church, so different in its general type from the Eastern. With the exception of Irenaeus [bishop of Lyons] and Hippolytus [the first celebrated preacher of the West, of Italy and, for a period, Lyons] who represent the oriental element in Gaul and at Rome, the Western Fathers are broadly distinguished from those of the East. . . . They affirm rather than demonstrate; . . . they prefer practical to speculative questions. The system of episcopal authority is gradually developed with a larger amount of passion at Carthage, with greater prudence and patience in Italy.’ — E. De Pressense, Tfie Early Years of Christianity: t/ie Martyrs and Apologists.

Spain.—”Christians are generally mentioned as having existed in all parts of Spain at the close of the second century; before the middle of the third century there is a letter of the Roman bishop Anterus (in 23″) to the bishops of the provinces of Boetica and Toletana . . . ; and after the middle of the same century a letter of Cyprian’s was addressed to . . . people … in the north … as well as … in the south of that country.”—J. E. T. Wiltsch, Handbook of the Geography and Statistics of tfie Church, pp. 40-41.

of the Ootha.

Britain.—” All that we can safely assert is that there is some reason for believing that there were Christians in Britain before A. D. 200. Certainly there was a British Church with bishops of its own soon after A. D. 300, and possibly some time before that. Very little can be known about this Celtic Church; but the scanty evidence tends to establish three points, (1) It had its origin from, and remained largely dependent upon, the Gallic Church. (2) It was confined almost exclusively to Roman settlements. (3) Its numbers were small and its members were poor. . . . That Britain may have derived its Christianity from Asia Minor cannot be denied; but the peculiar British custom respecting Easter must not be quoted in evidence of it. It seems to have been a mere blunder, and not a continuation of the old Quarta-deciman practice. Gaul is the more probable parent of the British Church. … At the Council of Rimini in 359 Constantius offered to pay out of the treasury the travelling expenses of all the bishops who attended. Out of more than four hundred bishops, three from Britain were the only clergy who availed themselves of this offer. Neither at Rimini, any more than at Aries, do the British representatives make any show: they appear to be quite without influence.”—A. Plummcr, The Church of tlie Early Fathers, ch. 8.

Goths.—”It has been observed that the first indisputable appearance of the Goths in European history must be dated in A. D. 238, when they laid waste the South-Danubian province of Moesia as far as the Black Sea. In the thirty years (238-269) that followed, there took place no fewer than ten such inroads. . . . From these expeditions they returned with immense booty, — corn and cattle, silks and fine linen, silver and gold, and captives of all ranks and ages. It is to these captives, many of whom were Christians, and not a few clergy, that the introduction of Christianity among the Goths is primarily due. . . . The period of the inroads, which so strangely formed a sowing-time for Christianity, was followed by a long period of tranquillity, during which the new faith took root and spread. . . . It is to the faithful work and pure lives of [Christian] men . . . who had fled from Roman civilisation for conscience sake, to the example of patience in misfortune and high Christian character displayed by the captives, and to the instruction of the presbyters sprinkled among them, that we must look, as the source of Christianity among the Goths. . . . The fact (to which we shall have to refer later), that, of all the sea raids undertaken by the Goths between the years 238 and 269, the Visigoths took part in only two, while the Ostrogoths, who were settled in Southern Russia along the coast of the Euxine from the Crimea to the Dneister, were engaged probably in all of them, makes it very unlikely that the captives mentioned by Philostorgius were carried anywhere else than the eastern settlements. To the influence of these Asian Christians, exerted mainly, if not entirely upon the Ostrogoths, must be added the ever-increasing intercourse carried on by sea between the Crimea and both the southern shore of the Euxine and Constantinople. To these probabilities has now to be addeil the fact that the only

traces of an organised Gothic Church existing before the year 341 are clearly to be referred to a community in this neighbourhood. Among the bishops who were present at the Council of Nicaea (A. D. 325), and who signed the symbol which was then approved, we find a certain Theophilus, before whose name stand the words, ‘de Gothis,’ and after it the word ‘Bosphoritanus.’ There can be little doubt that this was a bishop representing a Gothic Church on the Cimmerian Bosphorus; and if, following the Paris MSS., we read further down the list the name Domnus Bosphorensis or Bosphoranus, we may find here another bishop from this diocese, and regard Theophilus as chief or arch-bishop of the Crimean churches. The undoubted presence at this council of at least one bishop of the Goths, and the conclusion drawn therefrom in favour of the orthodoxy of the Gothic Church in general, led afterwards to the greatest confusion. Failing to distinguish between the Crimean and Danubian communities, the historians often found their information contradictory, and altered it in the readiest way to suit the condition of the Church which they had specially in view. . . . The conversion of that section of the nation, which became the Gothic Church, was due to the apostolic labours of one of their own race, — the great missionary bishop Ulfilas [see Goths: A. D. 341-381]. But to him too was to be traced the heresy in which they stopped short on the way from heathenism to a complete Christian faith.”—C. A. A. Scott, Ulfilas, Apostle of tlie Coths, pp. 19-30.—” The superstitions of the barbarians, who had found homes in the empire, had been exchanged for a more wholesome belief. But Christianity had done more than this. It had extended its influence to the distant East and South, to Abyssinia, and the tribes of the Syrian and “Lybian deserts, to Armenia, Persia, and India.”—G. P. Fisher, Hist, of the Christian Church, p. 98.— ” We have before us many significant examples of the facility with which the most intelligent of the Pagans accepted the outward rite of Christian baptism, and made a nominal profession of the Faith, while they retained and openly practiced, without rebuke, without remark, with the indulgence even of genuine believers, the rites and usages of the Paganism they pretended to have abjured. We find abundant records of the fact that personages high in office, such as consuls and other magistrates, while administering the laws by which the old idolatries were proscribed, actually performed Pagan rites and even erected public statues to Pagan divinities. Still more did men, high in the respect of their fellow-Christians, allow themselves to cherish sentiments utterly at variance with the definitions of the Church.”—C. Merivale, Four lectures on some Epoc/is of Early Church History, p. 150.— ” We look back to the early acts and policy of the Church towards the new nations, their kings and their people; the ways and works of her missionaries and lawgivers, Ulfilas among the Goths, Augustine in Kent, Remigius in France, Boniface in Germany, Anschar in the North, the Irish Coluinban in Burgundy and Switzerland, Benedict at Monte Cassino; or the reforming kings, the Arian Theodoric, the great German Charles, the great English Alfred. Measured by the light and the standards they have helped us to attain to, their methods no doubt surprise. disappoint — it may be, revolt us; and all that we dwell upon is the childishness, or the imperfect morality, of their attempts. But if there is anything certain in history, it is that in these rough communications of the deepest truths, in these [for us] often questionable modes of ruling minds and souls, the seeds were sown of all that was to make the hope and the glory of the foremost nations. … I have spoken of three other groups of virtues which are held in special regard and respect among us — those connected with manliness and hard work, with reverence for law and liberty, and with pure family life. The rudiments and tendencies out of which these have grown appear to have been early marked in the German races; but they were only rudiments, existing in company with much wilder and stronger elements, and liable, amid the changes and chances of barbarian existence, to be paralysed or trampled out. No mere barbarian virtues could by themselves have stood the trial of having won by conquest the wealth, the lands, the power of Rome. But their guardian was there. What Christianity did for these natural tendencies to good was to adopt them, to watch over them, to discipline, to consolidate them. The energy which warriors were accustomed to put forth in their efforts to conquer, the missionaries and ministers of Christianity exhibited in their enterprises of conversion and teaching. The crowd of unknown saints whose names fill the calendars, and live, some of them, only in the titles of our churches, mainly represent the age of heroic spiritual ventures, of which we see glimpses in the story of St. Boniface, the apostle of Germany; of St. Columban and St. Gall, wandering from Ireland to reclaim the barbarians of the Burgundian deserts and of the shores of the Swiss lakes. It was among men like these — men who were then termed emphatically ‘men of religion’— that the new races saw the example of life ruled by a great and serious purpose, which yet was not one of ambition or the excitement of War; a life of deliberate and steady industry, of hard and uncomplaining labour; a life as full of activity in peace, of stout and brave work, as a warrior s was wont to be in the camp, on the march, in the battle. It was in these men and in the Christianity which they taught, and which inspired and governed them, that the fathers of our modern nations first saw exemplified the sense of human responsibility, first learned the nobleness of a ruled and disciplined life, first enlarged their thoughts of the uses of existence, first were taught the dignity and sacredness of honest toil. These great axioms of modern life passed silently from the special homes of religious employment to those of civil; from the cloisters and cells of men who, when they were not engaged in worship, were engaged in field-work or book-work,— clearing the forest, extending cultivation, multiplying manuscripts — to the guild of the craftsman, the shop of the trader, the study of the scholar. Religion generated and fed these ideas of what was manly and worthy in man.”—R. W. Church, The Gifts of CiviliiKition, pp. 279-383.


A. D. 312-337.—The Church and the Empire.—” Shortly after the beginning of the fourth century there occurred an event which, had it been predicted in the days of Nero or even of Decius, would have been deemed a wild fancy.

It was nothing less than the conversion of the Roman Emperor to the Christian faith. It was an event of momentous importance in the history of the Christian religion. The Roman empire, from being the enemy and persecutor of the Church, thenceforward became its protector and patron. The Church entered into an alliance with the State, which was to prove fruitful of consequences, both good and evil, in the subsequent history of Europe. Christianity was now to reap the advantages and incur the dangers arising from the friendship of earthly rulers and from a close connection with the civil authority. Constantine was born in 274. He was the son of Constantius Chlorus. His mother, Helena, was of obscure birth. She became a Christian — whether before or after his conversion, is doubtful. . . . After the death of Constantine’s father, a revolt against Galerius augmented the number of emperors, so that, in 308, not less than six claimed to exercise rule. The contest of Constantine was at first in the West, against the tyrannical and dissolute Maxentius. It was just before his victory over this rival at the Milvian Bridge, near Rome, that he adopted the Christian faith. That there mingled in this decision, as in most of the steps of his career, political ambition, is highly probable. The strength of the Christian community made it politic for him to win its united support. But he sincerely believed in the God whom the Christians worshipped, and in the help which, through his providence, he could lend to his servants. . . . Shortly before his victory over Maxentius there occurred what he asserted to be the vision of a flaming cross in the sky, seen by him at noonday, on which was the inscription, in Greek, ‘By this conquer.’ It was, perhaps, an optical illusion, the effect of a parhelion beheld in a moment when the imagination . . . was strongly excited. He adopted the labarum, or the standard of the cross, which was afterwards carried in his armies. [See Rome: A. D. 323.] In later contests with Licinius, the ruler in the East, who was a defender of paganism, Constantine became more distinctly the champion of the Christian cause. The final defeat of Licinius, in 323, left him the master of the whole Roman world. An edict signed by Galerius, Constantine, and Licinius, in

311, had proclaimed freedom and toleration in matters of religion. The edict of Milan, in

312, emanating from the two latter, established unrestricted liberty on this subject. If we consider the time when it was issued, we shall be surprised to find that it alleges as a motive for the edict the sacred rights of conscience.”—G. P. Fisher, Hint, of the Christian Church, pp. 87-88.—”Towards the end of the year Constantine left Rome for Milan, where he met Licinius. This meeting resulted in the issue of the famous edict of Milan. Up to that hour Christianity had been an ‘illicita religio,’ and it was a crime to be a Christian. Even in Trajan’s answer to Pliny this position is assumed, though it forms the basis of humane regulations. The edict of Milan is the charter of Christianity; it proclaims absolute freedom in the matter of religion. Both Christians and all others were to be freely permitted to follow whatsoever religion each might choose. Moreover, restitution was to be made to the Christian body of all churches and other buildings which had been alienated from them during the persecution. This was in 313 A. D. . . . But the causes of dissension remained behind. Once more (323) the question between paganism and Christianity was to be tried on the field of battle, and their armies confronted one another on the plains of Hadrianople. Again the skill of Constantine and the trained valour of his troops proved superior to the undisciplined levies of Licinius; while at sea Crispus, the eldest and ill-fated son of Constantine, destroyed the enemy’s fleet in the crowded waters of the Hellespont, sowing thereby the seeds of his father’s jealousy. Byzantium fell, but not without a vigorous resistance; and, after one more crushing defeat on the site of the modern Scutari, Licinius submitted himself to the mercy of Constantine. . . . What we notice in the whole of these events is the enormous power which still belonged to paganism. The balance still, wavered between paganism and Christianity. . . . Constantine had now, by a marvellous succession of victories, placed himself in a position of supreme and undisputed power. At this juncture it is of interest to observe that . . . the divided empire, which followed the reign of Constantine, served to sustain Catholicity at least in one half of the world. . . . The foundation of Constantinople was the outward symbol of the new monarchy and of the triumph of Christianity. . . . The choice of this incomparable position for the new capital of the world remains the lasting proof of Constantine’s genius. . . . The magnificence of its public buildings, its treasures of art, its vast endowments, the beauty of its situation, the rapid growth of its commerce, made it worthy to be ‘as it were a daughter of Rome herself.’ But the most important thought for us is the relation of Constantinople to the advance of Christianity. That the city which had sprung into supremacy from its birth and had become the capital of the conquered world, should have excluded from the circuit of its walls all public recognition of polytheism, and made the Cross its most conspicuous ornament, and the token of its greatness, gave a reality to the religious revolution. . . . The imperial centre of the world had been visibly displaced.”—A. Carr, The Church and tlie Soman Empire, ch. 4.— With the first General Council of the Church, held at Nicoea, A. D. 325 (see Nicea), “the decisions … of which received the force of law from tlie confirmation of the Emperor, a tendency was entered upon which was decisive for the further development; decisive also by the fact that the Emperor held it to be his duty to compel subordination to the decisions of the council on penalty of banishment, and actually carried out this banishment in the case of Arius and several of his adherents. The Emperor summoned general synods, the fiscus provided the cost of travel and subsistence (also at other great synods), an imperial commissioner opened them by reading the imperial edict, and watched over the course of business. Only the bishops and their appointed representatives had votes. Dogmatic points fixed . . . were to be the outcome of unanimous agreement, the rest of the ordinances (on the constitution,.discipline and worship) of a majority of votes.”—W. Moeller, Hist, of tlie Christian Church, p. 337.—”The direct influence of the emperor, however, does not appear until the Emperor Marcian procured from the Council of Chalcedon the completion of


the Patriarchal system. Assuming that Rome, Alexandria, and Antioch were Patriarchates hj the recognition of their privileges at the Council of Nicaea (though the canon of that council does not really admit that inference), the Council of Chalcedon, by its ninth, seventeenth and twentyeighth canons, enlarged and fixed the patriarchal jurisdiction and privileges of the Church of Constantinople, giving it authority over the Dioceses of Thrace, Asia and Pontus, with the power of ordaining and requiring canonical obedience from the metropolis of those Dioceses, and also the ri^rht to adjudicate appeals in causes ecclesiastical from the whole Eastern Church. The Bishop of Jerusalem also’obtained in this council patriarchal authority over Palestine. The organization of the Church was thus conformed to that of the empire, the patriarchs corresponding to the Praetorian Prefects, the exarchs, to the governors of the Dioceses, and the metropolitans to the governors of the provinces — the Bishop of Rome being given by an edict of Valentinian III., of the year 445, supreme appellate jurisdiction in the West, and the Bishop of Constantinople, by these canons of Chalcedon, supreme appellate jurisdiction in the East. . . . Dean Milman remarks that the Episcopate of St. John Chrysostom was the last attempt of a bishop of Constantinople to be independent of the political power, and that his fate involved the freedom of the Church of that city.” —J. H. Egar, Christendom: Ecclesiastical and Political, from Constantine, to tlie Reformation, pp. 25-27.—”The name of patriarch, probably borrowed from Judaism, was from this period the appellation of the highest dignitaries of the church, and by it were more immediately, but not exclusively, designated the bishops of Constantinople, Alexandria, Antioch, and Jerusalem. One patriarch accordingly presided over several provinces, and was distinguished from the metropolitan in this, that the latter was subordinate to him, and had only the superintendence of one province or a small district. However the designation applied only to the highest rulers of the church in the east, and not to those in the west, for here the title of patriarch was not unfrequently given, even in later times, to the metropolitan. The first mention of this title occurs in the second letter of the Roman bishop, Anacletus at the beginning of the second century, and it is next spoken of by Socrates; and after the Council of Chalcedon, in 451, it came into general use. The bishop of Constantinople bore the special title of oecumenical bishop or patriarch; there were also other titles in use among the Nestorians and Jacobites. The Primates and Metropolitans or Archbishops arose contemporaneously. The title of Eparch is also said to have been given to primates about the middle of the fifth century. The metropolitan of Ephesus subscribed himself thus in the year 680, therefore in the succeeding period. There was no particular title of long continuance for the Roman bishop until the sixth century; but from the year 536 he was usually called Papa, and from the time of Gregory the Great he styled himself Servus Servorum Dei.”—J. E. T. Wiltsch, Handbook of tlie Geography and Statistics of the Church, pp. 70, 71 and 72.—”Christianity may now be said to have ascended the imperial throne: with the single exception of Julian, from this period the monarchs of the Roman empire professed the religion of the Gospel. This important crisis in the history of Christianity almost forcibly arrests the attention to contemplate the change wrought in Christianity by its advancement into a dominant power in the state; and the change in the condition of mankind up to this period, attributable to the direct authority or indirect influence of the new religion. By ceasing to exist as a separate community, and by advancing its pretentions to influence the general government of mankind, Christianity to a certain extent, forfeited its independence. It could not but submit to these laws, framed, as it might seem, with its own concurrent voice. It was no longer a republic, governed exclusively — as far, at least, as its religous concerns — by its own internal polity. The interference of the civil power in some of its most private affairs, the promulgation of its canons, and even, in some cases, the election of its bishops by the state, was the price which it must inevitably pay for its association with the ruling power. . . . During the reign of Constantine Christianity had made a rapid advance, no doubt, in the number of its proselytes as well as in its external position. It was not yet the established religion of the empire. It did not as yet stand forward as the new religion adapted to the new order of things, as a part of the great simultaneous change which gave to the Roman world a new capital, a new system of government, and, in some important instances, anew jurisprudence. . . . The religion of the emperor would soon become that of the court, and, by somewhat slower degrees, that of the empire. At present, however, as we have seen, little open agression took place upon paganism. The few temples which were closed were insulated cases, and condemned as offensive to public morality. In general the temples stood in all their former majesty, for as yet the ordinary process of decay from neglect or supineness could have produced little effect. The difference was, that the Christian churches began to assume a more stately and imposing form. In the new capital they surpassed in grandeur, and probably in decoration, the pagan temples, which belonged to old Byzantium. The immunities granted to the Christian clergy only placed them on the same level with the pagan priesthood. The pontifical offices were still held by the distinguished men of the state: the emperor himself was long the chief pontiff; but the religious office had become a kind of appendage to the temporal dignity. The Christian prelates were constantly admitted, in virtue of their office, to the imperial presence.”—II. H. Milman, Hist, of Christianity, bk. 8, ch. 4.—” As early as Constantino’s time the punishment of crucifixion was abolished; immoral practices, like infanticide, and the exhibition of gladiatorial shows, were discouraged, the latter of these being forbidden in Constantinople; and in order to improve the relation of the sexes, severe laws were passed against adultery, and restrictions were placed on the facility of divorce. Further, the bishops were empowered, in the name of religion, to intercede with governors, and even with the emperor, in behalf of the unfortunate and oppressed. And gradually they obtained the right of exercising a sort of moral superintendence over the discharge of their official duties by the judges, and others, who belonged to their communities. The supervision of the


prisons, in particular, was entrusted to them; and, whereas in the first instance their power of interference was limited to exhortations addressed to the judges who superintended them, in Justinian’s reign the bishops were commissioned by law to visit the prisons on two days of each week in order to inquire into, and, if necessary, report upon, the treatment of the prisoners. In all these and many other ways, the influence of the State in controlling and improving society was advanced by its alliance with the Church. —H. F. Tozer, The Church and the Eastern Empire, pp. 56-57.—”The Christians were still a separate people. … It can scarcely be doubted that the stricter moral tone of Constantino’s legislation more or less remotely emanated from Christianity. . . . During the reign of Constantine Christianity continued to advance beyond the borders of the Roman empire, and in some degree to indemnify herself for the losses which she sustained in the kingdom of Persia. The Ethiopians appear to have attained some degree of civilization; aconsiderable part of the Arabian commerce was kept up with the other side of the Red Sea through the port of Adulis; and Greek letters appear, from inscriptions recently discovered, to have made considerable progress among this barbarous people. . . . The theological opinions of Christianity naturally made more rapid progress than its moral influence. The former had only to overpower the resistance of a religion which had already lost its hold upon the mind, or a philosophy too speculative for ordinary understandings and too unsatisfactory for the more curious and inquiring; it had only to enter, as it were, into a vacant place in the mind of man. But the moral influence had to contest, not only with the natural dispositions of man, but with the barbarism and depraved manners of ages. While, then, the religion of the world underwent a total change, the Church rose on the ruins of the temple, and the pontifical establishment of paganism became gradually extinct or suffered violent suppression; the moral revolution was far more slow and far less complete. . . . Everywhere there was exaggeration of one of the constituent elements of Christianity; that exaggeration which is the inevitable consequence of a strong impulse upon the human mind. Wherever men feel strongly, they act violently. The more speculative Christians, therefore, who were more inclined, in the deep and somewhat selfish solicitude for their own salvation, to isolate themselves from the infected class of mankind, pressed into the extreme of asceticism; the more practical, who were in earnest in the desire of disseminating the blessings of religion throughout society, scrupled little to press into their service whatever might advance their cause. With both extremes the dogmatical part of the religion predominated. … In proportion to the admitted importance of the creed, men became more sternly and exclusively wedded to their opinions. . . . While they swept in converts indiscriminately from the palace and the public street, while the emperor and the lowest of the populace were alike admitted on little more than the open profession of allegiance, they were satisfied if their allegiance in this respect was blind and complete. Hence a far larger admixture of human passions, and the common vulgar incentives of action, were infused into the expanding Christian body.

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History for Ready Reference: From the Best Historians, Biographers, and …
By Josephus Nelson Larned

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Men became Christians, orthodox Christians, with little sacrifice of that which Christianity aimed chiefly to extirpate. Yet, after all, this imperfect view of Christianity had probably some effect in concentrating the Christian community, and holding it together by a new and more indissoluble bond. The world divided into two parties. . . . All, however, were enrolled under one or the other standard, and the party which triumphed eventually would rule the whole Christian world.”—H. H. Milman, Hist, of Christianity, bk. 3, ch. 4-5.—”Of this deterioration of morals we have abundant evidence. Read the Canons of the various Councils and you will learn that the Church found it necessary to prohibit the commission of the most heinous and abominable crimes not only by the laity, but even by the clergy. Read the homilies of such preachers as Chrysostom, Basil, and Gregory, and you may infer what the moral tone of a Christian congregation must have been to which such reproofs could be addressed. Read, above all, the treatise on Providence, or De Gubernatione Dei, written at the close of our period by Salvian, a presbyter of Marseilles. The barbarians had over-spread the West, and Christians had suffered so many hardships that they began to doubt whether there was any Divine government of human affairs. Salvian retorted that the fact of their suffering was the best evidence of the doctrine of Providence, for the miseries they e’ndured were the effects of the Divine displeasure provoked by the debauchery of the Church. And then he proceeds to draw up an indictment and to lend proof which I prefer not to give in detail. After making every allowance for rhetorical exaggeration, enough remains to show that the morality of the Church had grievously declined, and that the declension was due to the inroads of Pagan vice. . . . Under this head, had space permitted, some account would have been given of the growth of the Christian literature of this period, of the great writers and preachers, and of the opposing schools of interpretation which divided Christendom. In the Eastern Church we should have had to notice [at greater length the work of] Eusebius of Caesarea, the father of Church History and the friend of Constantine; Ephrem the Syrian, the poet-preacher; the three Cappadocians, Basil of Caesarea, Gregory of Nyssa, and Gregory of Nazianzus, each great in his own way, the first as a preacher and administrator, the second as a thinker, the third as a poet and panegyrist; Chrysostom, the orator and exegete; Theodore of Mopsuestia and Theodoret of Kyros, along with Chrysostom the most influential representatives of the School of Antioch. In the Western Church we should have had to speak of Ambrose, the eloquent preacher and voluminous writer; of Jerome, the biblical critic; and of Augustine, the philosopher and controversialist, whose thoughts live among us even at the present day.”—W. Stewart, The Church of tlie 4th and 5th Centuries (St. Cites’ Lectures, 4th series).—See Rome: A. D. 323, to 391-395.—”Hitherto Christian asceticism had been individualistic in its character. … In the third century hermits began to form a class by themselves in the East and in Africa; in the fourth they began to be organized into communities. After the institution of monastic societies, this development of Christian asceticism spread

far and wide from the deserts of the Thebaid and Lower Egypt; Basil, Jerome, Athanasius, Augustine, Ambrose, were foremost among its earliest advocates and propagators; Cassian, Columbanus, Benedict, and others, crowned the labours of their predecessors by a more elaborate organization.”—I. Gregory Smith, Christian Monasticism, pp. 23-25.

A. D. 318-325.—The Arian Controversy and the Council of Nicaea. See Arianism, and Niclea, The First Courfcit or.

A. D. 330-1054.—The Eastern (Greek, or Orthodox) Church.—” ‘The Eastern Church,’ says a well-known writer, ‘was like the East, stationary and immutable; the Western, like the West, progressive and flexible. This distinction is the more remarkable, because at certain periods of their course, there can be no doubt that the civilization of the Eastern Church was far higher than that of the Western.'”—G. F. Maclear, The Slats, p. 25.—It is the more remarkable because this long-continuing uniformity, while peculiarly adapted to a people and a church which should retain and transmit an inheritance of faith and culture, stands in singular contrast to the reputed character of the Greek-speaking peoples of the East. The word Greek, however, has, as an adjective, many meanings, and there is danger of wrong inference through inattention to these; some of its distinctive characters are therefore indicated in brackets in various places in the following matter. “The New Rome at the time of its foundation was Roman. . . . But from the first it was destined to become Greek; for the Greeks, who now began to call themselves Romans — an appellation which they have ever since retained — held fast to their language, manners, and prejudices, while they availed themselves to the full of their rights as Roman citizens. The turning-point in this respect was the separation of the empires of the East and the West in the time of Arcadius and Honorius; and in Justinian’s time we find all the highest offices in the hands of the Greeks, and Greek was the prevailing language. But the people whom we call by this name were not the Hellenes of Greece proper, but the Macedonian Greeks. This distinction arose with the establishment of Greek colonies with municipal government throughout Asia by Alexander the Great and his successors. The type of character which was developed in them and among those who were Hellenised by their influence, differed in many respects from that of the old Greeks. The resemblance between them was indeed maintained by similarity of education and social feelings, by the possession of a common language and literature, and by their exclusiveness, which caused them to look down on less favoured races; but while the inhabitants of Greece retained more of the independent spirit and of the moral character and patriotism of their forefathers, the Macedonian Greeks were more cosmopolitan, more subservient, and more ready to take the impress of those among whom they were thrown: and the astuteness and versatility which at all times had formed one element in the Hellenic character, in them became the leading characteristic. The influence of this type is traceable in the policy of the Eastern Empire, varying in intensity in different ages in proportion to the power exercised by the Greeks: until, during the later period of the history—in the time of the Comneni, and still more in that of the Palceologi— it is the predominant feature.” —H. F. Tozer, Tlw Church and the Eastern Empire, pp. 9-10.—”What have been the effects of Christianity on what we call national character in Eastern Christendom? . . . The Greeks of the Lower Empire are taken as the typical example of these races, and the Greeks of the Lower Empire have become a by word for everything that is false and base. The Byzantine was profoundly theological, we are told, and profoundly vile. . . . Those who wish to be just to [it] . . . will pass … to the . . . equitable and conscientious, but by no means, indulgent, judgments of Mr. Finlay, Mr. Freeman, and Dean Stanley. One fact alone is sufficient to engage our deep interest in this race. It was Greeks [Hellenist Jews] and people imbued with Greek ideas who first welcomed Christianity. It was in their language that it first spoke to the world, and its first home was in Greek households and in Greek cities. It was in Greek [Hellenistic] atmosphere that the Divine Stran


fer from the East, in many respects so widely ifferent from all that Greeks were accustomed to, first grew up to strength and shape; first showed its power of assimilating and reconciling; first showed what it was to be in human society. Its earliest nurslings were Greeks;- Greeks [Hellenist Jews] first took in the meaning and measure of its amazing and eventful announcements; Greek sympathies first awoke and vibrated to its appeals; Greek obedience, Greek courage, Greek suffering first illustrated its new lessons. Had it not first gained over Greek mind and Greek belief, it is hard to see how it would have made its further way. . . . The Roman conquest of the world found the Greek race, and the Eastern nations which it had influenced, in a low and declining state — morally, socially, politically. The Roman Empire, when it fell, left them in the same discouraging condition, and suffering besides from the degradation and mischief wrought on all its subjects by its chronic and relentless fiscal oppression. . . . These were the men in whose childish conceit, childish frivolity, childish selfassertion, St. Paul saw such dangers to the growth of Christian manliness and to the unity of the Christian body—the idly curious and gossiping men of Athens; the vain and shamelessly ostentatious Corinthians, men in intellect, but in moral seriousness babes; the Ephesians, ‘like children carried away with every blast of vain teaching,’ the victims of every impostor, and sport of every deceit; the Cretans, proverbially, ‘ever liars, evil beasts, slow bellies;’ the passionate, volatile, Greek-speaking, Celts of Asia, the ‘foolish’ Galatians. . . . The Greek of the Roman times is portrayed in the special warnings of the Apostolic Epistles. After Apostolic times he is portrayed in the same way by the heathen satirist Lucian, and by the Christian preacher Chrysostom; and such, with all his bad tendencies, aggravated by almost uninterrupted misrule and oppression, the Empire, when it broke up, left him. The prospects of such a people, amid the coming storms, were dark. Everything, their gifts and versatility, as well as their faults, threatened national decay and disintegration. . . . These races whom the Empire of the Caesars left like scattered sheep to the mercy of the barbarians, lived through a succession of the most appalling storms, and

kept themselves together, holding fast, resolute and unwavering, amid all their miseries and all their debasement, to the faith of their national brotherhood. . . . This, it seems to me, Christianity did for a race which had apparently lived its time, and had no future before it—the Greek race in the days of the Ctesars. It created in them, in a new and characteristic degree, national endurance, national fellowship and sympathy, national hope. … It gave them an Empire of their own, which, undervalued as it is by those familiar with the ultimate results of Western history, yet withstood the assaults before which, for the moment, Western civilisation sank, and which had the strength to last a life—a stirring and eventful life — of ten centuries.- The Greek Empire, with all its evils and weaknesses, was yet in its time the only existing image in the world of a civilised state. . . . The lives of great men profoundly and permanently influence national character; and the great men of later Greek memory are saints. They belong to the people more than emperors and warriors; for the Church is of the people. . . . The mark which such men left on Greek society and Greek character has not been effaced to this day, even by the melancholy examples of many degenerate successors. . . . Why, if Christianity affected Greek character so profoundly, did it not do more? Why, if it cured it of much of its instability and trifling, did it not also cure it of its falsehood and dissimulation? Why, if it impressed the Greek mind so deeply with the reality of the objects of faith, did it not also check the vain inquisitiveness and spirit of disputatiousness and sophistry, which filled Greek Church history with furious wranglings about the most hopeless problems? Why, if it could raise such admiration for unselfishness and heroic nobleness, has not this admiration borne more congenial fruit? Why, if heaven was felt to be so great and so near, was there in real life such coarse and mean worldliness? Why, indeed? . . . Profoundly, permanently, as Christianity affected Greek character, there was much in that character which Christianity failed to reach, much that it failed to correct, much that was obstinately refractory to influences which, elsewhere, were so fruitful of goodness and greatness. The East, as well as the West, has still much to learn from that religion, which each too exclusively claims to understand, to appreciate, and to defend.”—R. W. Church, The Gifts of Civilisation, pp. 188-216. —”The types of character that were developed in the Eastern Church, as might be expected, were not of the very highest. There was among them no St. Francis, no St. Louis. The uniformity which pervades everything Byzantine prevented the development of such salient characters as are found in the West. It is difficult, no doubt, to form a true estimate of the influence of religion on men’s lives in Eastern countries, just as it is of their domestic relations, and even of the condition of the lower classes, because such matters are steadily ignored by the contemporary historians. But all the evidence tends to show that individual rather than heroic piety was fostered by the system which prevailed there. That at certain periods a high tone of spirituality prevailed among certain classes is sufficiently proved by the beautiful hymns of the Eastern Church, many of which, thanks to Dr. Neale’s singular felicity in translation, are in use among ourselves. But the loftier development of their spirit took the form of asceticism, and the scene of this was rather the secluded monastery, or the pillar of the Stylite, than human society at large. But if the Eastern Church did not rise as high as her sister of the West, she never sank as low.”—H. F. Tozer, Tlie Church and the Eastern Empire, pp. 45-46.—”The Greek Church, or, as it calls itself, the Holy Orthodox, Catholic, Apostolic, Oriental Church, has a venerable if not an eventful history. Unlike the Church of the West, it has not been moulded by great political movements, the rise and fall of kingdoms, and the convulsions which have passed over the face of modern society. Its course has been out of the sight of European civilisation, it has grown up among peoples who have been but slightly affected, if they have been affected at all, by the progressive movements of mankind. It has no middle ages. It has no renaissance. It has no Reformation. It has given birth to no great universities and schools of learning. It has no Protestantism. It remains very much as the fourth and fifth centuries left it. . . . When the royal throne in the days of the first Christian Emperor was removed from Rome to Constantinople, there arose at once a cause of strife between the bishops of old and new Rome, as Byzantium or Constantinople was named. Each claimed pre-eminence, and each alternately received it from the governing powers in Church and State. One Council decreed (A. D. 381) that the Bishop of the new Rome should be inferior only to that of the old; another declared (A. D. 451) the equality of both prelates. The Patriarch of Constantinople at the close of the sixth century claimed superiority over all Christian Churches,—a claim which might have developed, had circumstances favoured it, into an Eastern Papacy. The assumption was, however, but short-lived, and the Bishop of Rome, Boniface, obtained from the Emperor Phocas in 606 the much-coveted position. The Eastern Church submitted, but from this time looked with a jealous eye on her Western sister. She noted and magnified every point of divergence between them. Differences or apparent differences in doctrine and ritual were denounced as heresies. Excommunications fulminated between the Eastern and Western city, and ecclesiastical bitterness was intensified by political intrigue. . . . In the ninth century the contest grew very fierce. The holder of the Eastern see, Photius, formulated and denounced the terrible doctrinal and other defections of the Western prelate and his followers. The list is very formidable. They, the followers of Rome, deemed it proper to fast on the seventh day of the week — that is on the Jewish Sabbath; in the first week of Lent they permitted the use of milk and cheese; they disapproved wholly of the marriage of priests; they thought none but bishops could anoint with the holy oil or confirm the baptized, and that they therefore anointed a second time those who had been anointed by presbyters; and fifthly, they had adulterated the Constantinopolitan Creed by adding to it the words Filioque, thus teaching that the Holy Spirit did not proceed only from the Father, but also from the Son. This last was deemed, and has always been deemed by the Greek Church the great


heresy of the Roman Church. . . . The Greek Church to-day in all its branches — in Turkey, Greece, snd Russia—professes to hold firmly by the formulas and decisions of the seven Oecumenical or General Councils, regarding with special honour that of Nice. The Nicene and Athanasian Creeds are the symbols of its faith, the Filioque clause being omitted from the former, and the eighth article reading thus: ‘And in the Holy Ghost, the Lord and Giver of life, who proceedeth from the Father, and with the Father and Son together is worshipped and glorified.’ . . . The Greek Church, unlike the Latin, denounces the use of images as objects of devotion, and holds in abhorrence every form of what it terms ‘image worship.’ Its position in this manner is very curious. It is true, no figures of our Lord, of the Virgin, or saints, such as one sees in churches, wayside chapels, and in the open fields in countries where the Roman Church is powerful, are to be seen in Russia, Greece, or any of those lands where the Eastern Church is supreme. On the other hand, pictures of the plainest kind everywhere take their place, and are regarded with the deepest veneration.” —J. C. Lees, The Greek Church (in t/ie Churches of Christendom), lect. 4.—See, also, Filioque Controversy.

A. D. 337-476.—The fall of Imperial Rome. —The rise of Ecclesiastical Rome.—The political and religious history of the Empire from the death of Constantino is so fully narrated under Rome that mere mention here of a few events will suffice, viz.: the revival of Paganism under the Emperor Julian; the reascendency of Christianity; the formal establishment of Christianity as the religion of the Romans, by the suffrages of the senate; the final division of the Empire into East and West between the sons of Theodosius; the three sieges and the sacking of Rome by Alaric; the legal separation of the Eastern and Western Empires; the pillage of Rome by the Vandals and its final submission to the barbarians. See Rome: A. D. 837-861, to 445-476. For an account of the early bishops of Rome, see Papacy. “A heathen historian traces the origin of the calamities which he records to the abolition of sacrifice by Theodosius, and the sack of Rome to the laws against the ancient faith passed by his son. This objection of the heathens that the overthrow of idolatry and the ascendency of Christianity were the cause of the misfortunes of the empire was so wide spread, and had such force with those, both Pagans and Christians, who conceived history to be the outcome of magical or demonic powers, that Augustine devoted twelve years of his life to its refutation. His treatise, ‘De Civitate Dei,’ was begun in 413, and was not finished till 426, within four years of his death. Rome had once been taken; society, consumed by inward corruption, was shaken to its foundations by the violent onset of the Teutonic tribes; men’s hearts were failing them for fear; the voice of calumny cried aloud, and laid these woes to the charge of the Christian faith. Augustine undertook to refute the calumny, and to restore the courage of his fellow-Christians. Taking a rapid survey of history, he asks what the gods had ever done for the well-being of the state or for public morality. He maintains that the greatness of Rome in the past was due to the virtues of her sons, and not to the protection of the gods. He shows that,

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long before the rise of Christianity, her ruin had begun with the introduction of foreign vices after the destruction of Carthage, and declares that much in the ancient worship, instead of preventing, had hastened that ruin. He rises above the troubles of the present, and amid the vanishing glories of the city of men he proclaims the stability of the city of God. At a time when the downfall of Rome was thought to presage approaching doom, Augustine regarded the disasters around him as the birth-throes of a new world, as a necessary moment in the onward movement of Christianity.”—W. Stewart, The Church of the 4th and 5th Centuries (St. Giles’ Lectures, 4th series).—” There is as little ground for discovering a miraculous, as there is for disowning a providential element in the course of events. The institutions of Roman authority and law had been planted regularly over all the territory which the conquering hordes coveted and seized; alongside of every magistrate was now placed a minister of Christ, and by every Hall of Justice stood a House of Prayer. The Representative of Ca;sar lost all his power and dignity when the armies of Csesar were scattered in flight; the minister of Christ felt that behind him was an invisible force with which the hosts of the alien could not cope, and his behaviour impressed the barbarian with the conviction that there was reality here. That beneficent mission of Leo, A. D. 452, of which Gibbon says: ‘The pressing eloquence of Leo, his majestic aspect and sacerdotal robes, excited the veneration of Attila for the spiritual father of the Christians’ —would be but an instance of what many nameless priests from provincial towns did, ‘not counting their lives dear to them.’ The organisation of the Latin state vitalised by a new spiritual force vanquished the victors. It was the method and the discipline of this organisation, not the subtlety of its doctrine, nor the fervour of its officials, that beat in detail one chief with his motley following after another. Hence too it came about that the Christianity which was adopted as the religion of Europe was not modified to suit the tastes of the various tribes that embraced it, but was delivered to each as from a common fountain-head. … It was a social triumph, proceeding from religious motives which we may regard with unstinted admiration and gratitude. “—J. Watt, The Latin Church (St. Oiks’ Lectures, 4th series.—”The temporal fall of the Imperial metropolis tended to throw a brighter light upon her ecclesiastical claims. The separation of the East and the West had already enhanced the religious dignity of the ancient capital. The great Eastern patriarchates of Antioch, Alexandria, and Jerusalem had up to that time all held themselves equal, if not superior to Rome. Constantinople had even assumed certain airs of supremacy over all. The General Councils which had defined the Faith at Nicaa and Constantinople had been composed almost wholly of Orientals. The great Doctors of the Church, the men who had defended or diffused the common Faith, had been mostly Greeks by origin and language. None had been Romans, and it was rarely, till the fourth century, that any of them had written in the Latin tongue. When Athanasius, exiled from Alexandria, came to Italy and Gaul, it was three years before lie could learn enough of the language of the West to address its congregations in public. But this

curious fact shows that the Western Christians were now no longer the little Greek colony of the first and second centuries. Christianity had become the national religion of the native races. The Romans might now feel that they were becoming again a people; that their glorious career was assuming, as it were, a new point of departure. . . . For at this moment the popular instinct could not fail to perceive how strongly the conscience of the barbarians had been affected by the spiritual majesty of Christian Rome. The Northern hordes had beaten down all armed resistance. They had made a deep impression upon the strength of the Eastern Empire; they had, for a moment at least, actually overcome the Western; they had overrun many of the fairest provinces, and had effected a permanent lodgement in Gaul and Spain, and still more recently in Africa. Yet in all these countries, rude as they still were, they had submitted to accept the creed of the Gospel. There was no such thing as a barbarian Paganism established within the limits of the Empire anywhere, except perhaps in furthest Britain.”—C. Merivale, Four lectures onsome Epoclisof Early Church History, pp. 180136.—” When the surging tides of barbarian invasion swept over Europe, the Christian organization was almost the only institution of the past which survived the flood. It remained as a visible monument of what had been, and, by so remaining, was of itself an antithesis to the present. The chief town of the Roman province, whatever its status under barbarian rule, was still the bishop’s see. The limits of the old ‘province,’ though the boundary of a new kingdom might bisect them, were still the limits of his diocese. The bishop’s tribunal was the only tribunal in which the laws of the Empire could be pleaded in their integrity. The bishop’s dress was the ancient robe of a Roman magistrate. The ancient Roman language which was used in the Church services was a standing protest against the growing degeneracy of the ‘ vulgar tongue.’ . . . As the forces of the Empire became less and less, the forces of the Church became more and more. The Churches preserved that which had been from the first the secret of Imperial strength. For underneath the Empire which changed and passed, beneath the shifting pageantry of Emperors who moved across the stage and were seen no more, was the abiding empire of law and administration, — which changed only as the deep sea changes beneath the windswept waves. That inner empire was continued in the Christian Churches. In the years of transition from the ancient to the modern world, when all civilized society seemed to be disintegrated, the confederation of the Christian Churches, by the very fact of its existence upon the old imperial lines, was not only the most powerful, but the only powerful organization in the civilized world. It was so vast, and so powerful, that it seemed to be, and there were few to question its being, the visible realization of that Kingdom of God which our Lord Himself had preached.”— E. Hatch, The Organization of the Christian Churches, pp. 160-178.

A. D. 347-412.—The Syrian Churches.— “St. Chrysostom was born there A. D. 347; and it was in his time that Antioch, with its hundred thousand Christians, became the leading Church in Asia, especially in the Arian controversy [see Ariamsm], for Arianism was very prevalent there. But all this lies outside our period. The so-called ‘School of Antioch’ has its origin just before . . . our period [811, Wiltsch]. Dorotheus, . . . and the martyr Lucian may be regarded as its founders. In contrast to the allegorising mysticism of the School of Alexandria, it was distinguished by a more sober and critical interpretation of Scripture. It looked to grammar and history for its principles of exegesis. But we must not suppose that there was at Antioch an educational establishment like the Catechetical School at Alexandria, which, by a succession of great teachers, kept up a traditional mode of exegesis and instruction. It was rather an intellectual tendency which, beginning with Lucian and Dorotheus, developed in a definite direction in Antioch and other Syrian Churches. . . . These notices of the Churches of Jerusalem, Cesarea in Palestine, and Antioch must suffice as representative of the Syrian Churches. The number of these Churches was considerable even in the second century, and by the beginning of the fourth was very large indeed, as is seen by the number of bishops who attend local Councils.”—A. Plummer, Tlie Church of the Early Fathers, ch. 3.—” It has often astonished me that no one has ever translated the letters of St. Jerome. The letters of St. Augustine have been translated, and are in many parts very entertaining reading, but they are nothing in point of living interest when compared with St. Jerome’s. These letters illustrate life about the year 400 as nothing else can. They show us, for instance, what education then was, what clerical life consisted in; they tell us of modes and fashions, and they teach us how vigorous and constant was the communication at that same period between the most distant parts of the Roman empire. We are apt to think of the fifth century as a time when there was very little travel, and when most certainly the East and West — Ireland, England, Gaul and Palestine — were much more widely and completely separated than now, when steam has practically annihilated time and space. And yet such an idea is very mistaken. There was a most lively intercourse existing between these regions, a constant Church correspondence kept up between them, and the most intense and vivid interest maintained by the Gallic and Syrian churches in the minutest details of their respective histories. Mark now how this happened. St. Jerome at Bethlehem was the centre of this intercourse. His position in the Christian world in the beginning of the fifth century can only be compared to, but was not at all equalled by, that of John Calvin at the time of the Reformation. Men from the most distant parts consulted him. Bishops of highest renown for sanctity and learning, like St. Augustine, and Exuperius of Toulouse in southern France, deferred to his authority. The keen interest he took in the churches of Gaul, and the intimate knowledge he possessed of the most petty local details and religious gossip therein, can only be understood by one who has studied his very abusive treatise against Vigilantius or his correspondence with Exuperius. . . . But how, it may be asked, was this correspondence carried on when there was no postal system 1 Here it was that the organization of monasticism supplied a want. Jerome’s letters tell us the very name of his postman. He was a monk named Sysinnius. He was perpetually on the road between Mar

of the Franks.

seilles and Bethlehem. Again and again does Jerome mention his coming and his going. His appearance must indeed have been the great excitement of life at . Bethlehem. Travelling probably via Sardinia, Rome, Greece, and the islands 6f the Adriatic, he gathered up all kinds of clerical news on the way — a piece of conduct on his part which seems to have had its usual results. As a tale-bearer, he not only revealed secrets, but also separated chief friends, and this monk Sysinnius with his gossips seems to have been the original cause of the celebrated quarrel between Augustine and Jerome.”—G. T. Stokes, Ireland and the Celtic Church, pp. 170-172.

A. D. 496-800.—The Frankish Church to the Empire of Charlemagne.—”The baptism of Chlodovech [Clovis—see Franks: A. D. 481511] was followed by the wholesale conversion of the Franks. No compulsion was used to bring the heathen into the Church. As a heathen, Chlodovech had treated the Church with forbearance; he was equally tolerant to heathenism when he was a Christian. But his example worked, and thousands of noble Franks crowded to the water of regeneration. Gregory of Tours reckons the Franks as Christians after the baptism of their king, which took place at Christmas, A. D. 496. His conversion made no alteration in the policy and conduct of Chlodovech; he remained the same mixture of cunning and audacity, of cruelty and sensuality, that he was before. . . . But, though his baptism was to him of no moral import, its consequences were wide spreading. When Gregory of Tours compares the conversion of Chlodovech with that of Constantine the Great, he was fully in the right. . . . And the baptism of Chlodovech declared to the world that the new blood being poured into the veins of the old and expiring civilization, had been quickened by the same elements, and would unite with the old in the new development. . . . That many of those who were baptized carried with them into their new Christianity their old heathen superstitions as well as their barbarism is certain; and the times were not those in which the growth of the great Christian graces was encouraged; the germs, however, of a new life were laid.”—S. Baring-Gould, The Church in Germany, ch. 3.—”The details of the history of the Merovingian period of Frankish history are extraordinarily complicated; happily, it is not at all necessary for our purpose to follow them. … In the earlier years after the conquest, all ranks of the clergy were filled by Gallo-Romans. The Franks were the dominant race, and were Christian, but they were new converts from a rude heathenism, and it would take some generations to raise up a ‘native ministry’ among them. Not only the literature of the (Western) Church, but all its services, and, still more, the conversational intercourse of all civilized and Christian people, was in Latin. Besides, the Franks were warriors, a conquering caste, a separate nation; and to lay down the battle-axe and spear, and enter into the peaceful ranks of the Romano-Gallic Church, would have seemed to them like changing their nationality for that of the more highly cultured, perhaps, but, in their eyes, subject race. The Frank kings did not ignore the value of education. Clovis is said to have established a Palatine school, and encouraged his young men to qualify themselves for the positions which his conquests had opened out

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History for Ready Reference: From the Best Historians, Biographers, and …
By Josephus Nelson Larned

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the Germans.

to them. His grandsons, we have seen, prided themselves on their Latin cul ture. After a while, Franks aspired to the magnificent positions which the great sees of the Church offered to their ambition; and we find men with Teutonic names, and no doubt of Teutonic race, among the bishops. . . . For a still longer period, few Franks entered into the lower ranks of the Church. Not only did the priesthood offer little temptation to them, but also the policy of the kings and nobles opposed the diminution of their military strength, by refusing leave to their Franks to enter into holy orders or into the monasteries. The cultured families of the cities would afford an ample supply of men for the clergy, and promising youths of a lower class seem already not infrequently to have been educated for the service of the Church. It was only in the later period, when some approach had been made to a fusion of the races, that we find Franks entering into the lower ranks of the Church, and simultaneously we find GalloRomans in the ranks of the armies. . . . Monks wielded a powerful spiritual influence. But the name of not a single priest appears in the history of the times as exercising any influence or authority. . . . Under the gradual secularization of the Church in the Merovingian period, the monasteries had the greatest share in keeping alive a remnant of vital religion among the people; and in the gradual decay of learning and art, the monastic institution was the ark in which the ancient civilization survived the deluge of barbarism, and emerged at length to spread itself over the modern world.”—E. L. Cutts, Charlemagne, eh. Sand 7.—”Two Anglo-Saxon monks, St. Wilfrid, bishop of York, and St. Willibrord undertook the conversion of the savage fishermen of Friesland and Holland at the end of the seventh and beginning of the eighth century; they were followed by another Englishman, the most renowned of all these missionaries, Winfrith, whose name was changed to Boniface, perhaps by the Pope, in recognition of his active and beneficent apostleship. When Gregory II. appointed him bishop of Germany (723), he went through Bavaria and established there the dioceses of Frisingen, Passau, and Ratisbon. When Pope Zacharias bestowed the rank of metropolitan upon the Church of Mainz in 748, he entrusted its direction to St. Boniface, who from that time was primate, as it were, of all Germany, under the authority of the Holy See. St. Boniface was assassinated by the Pagans of Friesland in 755.”—V. Duruy, Hist, of the Middle Ages, bk. 3, eh. 8.—”Boniface, whose original name was Winfrid, was of a noble Devonshire family (A. D. 680), educated at the monastery of Nutcelle, in Hampshire, and at the age of thirtyfive years had obtained a high reputation for * learning and ability, when (in A D. 716), seized with the prevalent missionary enthusiasm, he abandoned his prospects at home, and set out with two companions to labour among the Frisians. . . . Winfrid was refused permission by the Duke to preach in his dominions, and he returned home to England. In the following spring he went to Rome, where he remained for some months, and then, with a general authorization from the pope to preach the gospel in Central Europe, he crossed the Alps, passed through Bavaria into Thuringia, where he began his work. While here the death of Radbod,

A. D. 719, and the conquest of Frisia by Charles Martel, opened up new prospects for the evangelization of that country, and Boniface went thither and laboured for three years among the missionaries, under Willibrord of Utrecht. Then, following in the track of the victorious forces of Charles Martel, he plunged into the wilds of Hessia, converted two of its chiefs whose example was followed by multitudes of the Hessians and Saxons, and a monastery arose at Anioneburg as the head-quarters of the mission. The Bishop of Rome being informed of this success, summoned Boniface to Rome, A. D. 723, and consecrated him a regionary bishop, with a general jurisdiction over all whom he should win from paganism into the Christian fold, requiring from him at the same time the oath which was usually required of bishops within the patriarchate of Rome, of obedience to the see. . . . Boniface was not only a zealous missionary, an earnest preacher, a learned scholar, but he was a statesman and an able administrator. He not only spread the Gospel among the heathen, but he organized the Church among the newly converted nations of Germany;-he regulated the disorder which existed in the Frankish Church, and established the relations between Church and State on a settled basis. The mediaeval analysts tell us that Boniface crowned Pepin king, and modern writers have usually reproduced the statement. ‘Rettberg, and the able writer of the biography of Boniface in Herzog (Real Ecyk, s. v.), argue satisfactorily from Boniface’s letters that he took no part in Pepin’s coronation.’ When Boniface withdrew from the active supervision of the Frankish Churches, it is probable that his place was to some extent supplied in the councils of the mayor and in the synods of the Church by Chrodegang, Bishop of Metz, a man whose character and influence in the history of the Frank Church have hardly hitherto been appreciated.”—E. L. Cutts, Charlemagne, ch. 12.— “Both Karlmann and Pippin tried to reform certain abuses that had crept into the Church. Two councils, convoked by Karlmann, the one in Germany (742), the other in the following year at Lestines (near Charleroi, in Belgium), drew up decrees which abolished superstitious rites and certain Pagan ceremonies, still remaining in force; they also authorized grants of Church lands by the ‘Prince’ for military purposes on condition of a payment of an annual rent to the Church; they reformed the ecclesiastical life, • forbade the priests to hunt or to ride through the woods with dogs, falcons, or sparrow-hawks; and, finally, made all priests subordinate to their diocesan bishops, to whom they were obliged to give account each year of their faith and their ministry — all of which were necessary provisions for the organization of the ecclesiastical hierarchy and for the regulation of church government. Similar measures were taken by the Council of Soissons, convoked by Pippin in 744. In 747, Karlmann renounced the world and retired to the celebrated Italian monastery of Monte Cassino. As he left he entrusted his children to the care of their uncle, Pippin, who robbed them of their inheritance and ruled alone over the whole Frankish Empire. . . . Charlemagne enlarged and completed the work which had only been begun by Charles Martel and Pippin. . . . The Middle Ages acknowledged two Masters, the Pope and the Emperor, and these

and the Church.

two powers came, the one from Rome, and the other from Austrasian France. . . . The mayors of Austrasia, Pippin of Heristal, and Charles Martel, rebuilt the Frankish monarchy and prepared the way for the empire of Charlemagne; . . . the Roman pontiffs . . . gathered around them all the churches of the West, and placed themselves at the head of the great Catholic society, over which one day Gregory VII. and Innocent III. should claim to have sole dominion.” —V. Duruy, Hist, of the Middle Ages, pp. 119122,108.—See Mayors Of The Palace; Franks: A. D. 768-814; and Papacy: A. D. 755-774, and 774.—The coronation of Charlemagne at Rome by Pope Leo III. (see Roman Empire, A. D. 800) gave the Western Church the place in the state it had held under the earlier Roman emperors. The character of so great a man, the very books he read and all that fed the vigorous ideal element in so powerful a spirit are worthy of interest; for this at least he sought to accomplish

— to give order to a tumultuous and barbarian world, and to establish learning, and purify the church: “While at table, he liked to hear a recital or a reading, and it was histories and the great deeds of past times which were usually read to him. He took great pleasure, also, in the works of St. Augustine, and especially in that whose title is ‘De Civitate Dei.’. . . He practiced the Christian religion in all its purity and with great fervour, whose principles had been taught him from his infancy. . . . He diligently attended . . . church in the evening and morning, and even at night, to assist at the offices and at the holy sacrifice, as much as his health permitted him. He watched with care that nothing should be done but with the greatest propriety, constantly ordering the guardians of the church not to allow anything to be brought there or left there inconsistent with or unworthy of the sanctity of the place. . . . He was always ready to help the poor, and it was not only in his own country, or within his own dominions that he dispensed those gratuitous liberalities which the Greeks call ‘alms,’ but beyond the seas—in Syria, in Egypt, iu Africa,’at Jerusalem, at Alexandria, at Carthage, everywhere where he learned that Christians were living in poverty

— he pitied their misery and loved to send them money. If he sought with so much care the friendship of foreign sovereigns, it was, above all, to procure for the Christians living under their rule help and relief. Of all the holy places, he had, above all, a great veneration for the Church of the Apostle St. Peter at Rome.”— Eginhard, Life of Charlemagne.—”The religious side of Charles’ character is of the greatest interest in the study of his remarkable character as a whole and his religious policy led to the most important and durable results of his reign. He inherited an ecclesiastical policy from his father; the policy of regulating and strengthening the influence of the Church in his dominions as the chief agent of civilization, and a great means of binding the various elements of the empire into one; the policy of accepting the Bishop of Rome as the head of Western Christianity, with patriarchal authority over all its Churches.”—E. L. Cutts, Charlemagne, ch. 23.—The following is a noteworthy passage from Charlemagne’s Capitulary of 787: “It is our wish that you may be what it behoves the soldiers of the church to be,— religious in heart, learned in discourse, pure in

act, eloquent in speech; so that all who approach your house in order to invoke the Divine Master, or to behold the excellence of the religious life, may be edified in beholding you, and instructed in hearing you discourse or chant, and may return home rendering thanks to God most High. Fail not, as thou regardest our favour, to send a copy of this letter to all thy suffragans and to all the monasteries; and let no monk go beyond his monastery to administer justice or to enter the assemblies and the voting-places. Adieu.”—J. B. Mullinger, Tlie Schools of Charles the Great.

5th-7th Centuries.—The Nestorian, Monophysite and Monothelite Controversies. See Nestorian And Monophysite, and MonotheLite.

5th-oth Centuries.—The Irish Church and its missions.— The story of the conversion of Ireland by St. Patrick, and of the missionary labors of the Church which he founded, is briefly told elsewhere — see Ireland: 5th-8th CenTuries. ” The early Church worked her way, in the literal sense of the word, ‘underground,’ under camp and palace, under senate and forum. But turn where we will in these Celtic missions, we notice how different were the features that marked them now. In Dalaradia St. Patrick obtains the site of his earliest church from the chieftain of the country, Dichu. At Tara, he obtains from King Laoghaire a reluctant toleration of his ministry. In Connaught he addresses himself first to the chieftains of Tirawley, and in Munster baptizes Angus, the king, at Cashel, the seat of the kings. What he did in Ireland reproduces itself in the Celtic missions of Wales and Scotland, and we cannot but take note of the important influence of Welsh and Pictish chiefs. . . . ‘The people may not have adopted the actual profession of Christianity, which was all perhaps that in the first instance they adopted from any clear or intelligent appreciation of its superiority to their former religion. But to obtain from the people even an actual profession of Christianity was an important step to ultimate success. It secured toleration at least for Christian institutions. It enabled the missionaries to plant in every tribe their churches, schools, and monasteries, and to establish among the half pagan inhabitants of the country societies of holy men, whose devotion, usefulness, and piety soon produced an effect on the most barbarous and savage hearts.’ “—G. F. Maclear, Conversion the West: The Celts, ch. 11.—”The Medieval urch of the West found in the seventh century an immense task before it to fulfil. . . . The missionaries who addressed themselves to the enormous task of the conversion of Germany may be conveniently divided into three groups —the British, the Frankish, and, entering somewhat later into an honourable rivalry with these, the Anglo-Saxon. A word or two upon each of these groups. The British — they include Irish and Scotch — could no longer find a field for the exercise of their ministry in England, now that there the Roman rule and discipline, to which they were so little disposed to submit, had everywhere won the day. Their own religious houses were full to overflowing. At home there was little for them to do, while yet that divine hunger and thirst for the winning of souls, which had so possessed the heart of St. Patrick, lived on in theirs. To these so minded, pagan Germany offered a welcome field of labour, and one in which there was ample room for all. Then there were the Frankish missionaries, who enjoyed the support of the Frankish kings, which sometimes served them in good stead; while at other times this protection was very far from a recommendation in their eyes who were easily persuaded to see in these missionaries the emissaries of a foe. Add to these the AngloSaxons; these last, mindful of the source from which they had received their own Christianity, making it a point to attach their converts to Rome, even as they were themselves bound to her by the closest ties. The language which these spoke — a language which as yet can have diverged very little from the Low German of Frisia, must have given to them many facilities which the Frankish missionaries possessed in a far slighter degree, the British not at all; and this may help to account for a success on their parts far greater than attended the labours of the others. To them too it was mainly due that the battle of the Creeds, which had been fought and lost by the Celtic missionaries in England, and was presently renewed in Germany, had finally the same issues there as in England. … At the same time, there were differences in the intensity and obstinacy of resistance to the message of truth, which would be offered by different tribes. There was ground, which at an early day had been won for the Gospel, but which in the storms and confusion of the two preceding centuries had been lost again; the whole line, that is, of the Danube and the Rhine, regions fair and prosperous once, but in every sense wildernesses now. In these we may note a readier acceptance of the message than found place in lands which in earlier times that message had never reached; as though obscure reminiscences and traditions of the past, not wholly extinct, had helped to set forward the present work.”—R. C. Trench, Lectures on Medieval Church History, led. 5.—”From Ireland cameGallus, Fridolin, Kilian, Trutbert and Levin. . . . The order in which these men succeeded one another cannot always be established, from the uncertainty of the accounts. We know thus much, that of all those above-mentioned, Galluswasthe first, for his labours in Helvetia (Switzerland) were continued from the preceding into the period of which we are now treating. On the other hand, it is uncertain as to Fridolin whether he had not completed his work before Gallus, in the sixth century, for in the opinion of some he closed his career in the time of Clodoveus I., but, according to others, he is said to have lived under Clodoveus II., or at another period. His labours extended over the lands on the Moselle, in the Vosges Mountains, over Helvetia, Rhsetia and Nigra Silva (the Black Forest). He built the monastery of Sekkiuga on the Rhine. Trutbert was a contemporary and at the same time a countryman of Gallus. His sphere of action is said to have been Brisgovia (Breisgau) and the Black Forest. Almost half a century later Kilian proclaimed the gospel in Franconia and Wirtzburg, with two assistants, Colonatus and Totnanus. In the latter place they converted duke Gozbert, and were put to death there in 688. After the above mentioned missionaries from Ireland, in the seventh century, had built churches and monasteries in the southern Germany, the missionaries from Britain repaired with a similar purpose, to the northern countries.


. . . Men from other nations, as Willericus, bishop of Brema, preached in Transalbingia at the beginning of the ninth century. Almost all the missionaries from the kingdom of the Franks selected southern Germany as their sphere of action: Emineran, about 649, Ratisbona, Rudbert, about 696, Bajoaria (Bavaria), Corbinian the country around Frisinga, Otbert the Breisgau and Black Forest, and Pirminius the Breisgau, Bajoaria, Franconia, Helvetia, and Alsatis.”— J. E. T. Wiltsch, Handbook of the Geography and Statistics of the Church, v. 1, pp. 365-367.

A. D. 553-800.—The Western Church.—Rise of the Papacy.—”Though kindly treated, the Church of Rome did not make any progress under the Ostrogoths. But when their power had been broken (553), and Rome had been placed again under the authority of the Emperor of Constantinople [see Rombu A. D. 535-553], the very remoteness of her new master insured to the Church a more prosperous future. The invasion of the Lombards drove a great many refugees into her territory, and the Roman population showed a slight return of its old energy in its double hatred toward them, as barbarians and as Arians. … It was at this favorable point in the state of affairs, though critical in some respects, that Gregory the Great made his appearance (590-604). He was a descendant of the noble Anicia family, and added to his advantages of birth and position the advantages of a wellendowed body and mind. He was prefect of Rome when less than thirty years old, but after holding this office a few months he abandoned the honors and cares of worldly things for the retirement of the cloister. His reputation did not allow him to remain in the obscurity of that life. Toward 579 he was sent to Constantinople by Pope Pelagius II. as secretary or papal nuncio, and he rendered distinguished services to the Holy See in its relations with the Empire and in its struggles against the Lombards. In 590 the clergy, the senate, and the people raised him with one accord to the sovereign pontificate, to succeed Pelagius. As it was still necessary for every election to be confirmed by the Emperor at Constantinople, Gregory wrote to him to beg him not to sanction this one; but the letter was intercepted and soon orders arrived from Maurice ratifying the election. Gregoryhid himself, but he was discovered and led back to Rome. When once Pope, though against his will, he used his power to strengthen the papacy, to propagate Christianity, and to improve the discipline and organization of the Church. . . . Strengthened thus by his own efforts, he undertook the propagation of Christianity and orthodoxy both within and without the limits of the old Roman Empire. Within those limits there were still some who clung to paganism, in Sicily, Sardinia, and even at the very gates of Rome, at Terracina, and doubtless also in Gaul, as there is a constitution of Childebert still extant dated 554, and entitled: ‘For the abolition of the remains of idolatry.’ There were Arians very near to Rome — namely, the Lombards; but through the intervention of Theudalinda, their queen, Gregory succeeded in having Adelwald, the heir to the throne, brought up in the Catholic faith; as early as 587 the Visigoths in Spain, under Reccared, were converted. . . . The Roman Empire had perished, and the barbarians had built upon its ruins many slight structures that were soon overthrown. Not even had the Franks, who were destined to he perpetuated as a nation, as yet succeeded in founding a social state of any strength; their lack of experience led them from one attempt to another, all equally vain; even the attempt of Charlemagne met with no more permanent success. In the midst of these successive failures one institution alone, developing slowly and steadily through the centuries, following out the spirit of its principles, continued to grow and gain in power, in extent and in unity. . . . The Pope had now become, in truth, the ruler of Christendom. He was, however, still a subject of the Greek Emperor; but a rupture was inevitable, as his authority, on the one hand, was growing day by day, and the emperor’s on the contrary, was declining.”— V. Duruy, Hist, of the Middle Ages, pp. 114-115, 108-109, 117.—”The real power which advanced the credit of the Roman see during these ages was the reaction against the Byzantine despotism over the Eastern Church; and this is the explanation of the fact that although the new map of Europe had been marked out, in outline at least, by the year 500, the Roman see clung to the eastern connection until the first half of the eighth century. … In the political or diplomatic struggle between the Church and the Emperors, in which the Emperors endeavored to make the Church subservient to the imperial policy, or to adjust the situation to the necessities of the empire, and the Church strove to retain its autonomy as a witness to the faith and a legislator in the affairs of religion, the Bishop of Rome became, so to speak, the constitutional head of the opposition; and the East was willing to exalt his authority, as a counterpoise to that of the Emperor, to any extent short of acknowledging that the primacy implied a supremacy.” —J. H. Egar, Christendom: Ecclesiastical and Political, from Constantine to the Reformation, p. 99.—”The election system was only used for one degree of the ecclesiastical dignitaries, for the bishopric. The lower dignitaries were chosen by the bishop. They were divided into two categories of orders — the higher and the lower orders. There were three higher orders, namely, the priests, the deacons, and the sub-deacons, and four lower orders, the acolytes, the doorkeepers, the exorcists, and the readers. The latter orders were not regarded as an integral part of the clergy, as their members were the servants of the others. As regards the territorial divisions, the bishop governed the diocese,which at a much later date was divided into parishes, whose spiritual welfare was in the hands of the parish priest or curate (curio). The parishes, taken together, constituted the diocese; the united dioceses, or suffragan bishoprics, constituted the ecclesiastical province, at whose head stood the metropolitan or archbishop. When a provincial council was held, it met in the metropolis and was presided over by the metropolitan. Above the metropolitans were the Patriarchs, in the East, and the Primates in the West, bishops who held the great capitals or the apostolic sees, Constantinople, Alexandria, Antioch, Rome, Jerusalem, Cesarea in Cappadocia, Carthage in Africa, and Heraclius in Thrace; among them Rome ranked higher by one degree, and from this supreme position exercised a supreme authority acknowledged by all the Church.”—V. Duruy, Hist, of tlie Middle Ages, pp. 109-110.—


“The divergence of the two Churches, Eastern and Western, was greater in reality than it appears to be from a superficial view. It was based on essential variations in the character and disposition of the people in the East and in the West, on the nature of their civilization, and on the different, almost antagonistic, development of the Christian idea in one Church and in tlie other. . . . The Eastern Church rejoiced in its direct affiliation with apostolic times, in its careful preservation of traditions, and was convinced of its especial right to be considered the true heir and successor of Christ. . . . The letter of the law superseded the spirit; religion stiffened into formalism; piety consisted in strict observance of ceremonial rites; external holiness replaced sincere and heartfelt devotion. . . . Throughout the West the tendency was in a contrary direction— towards the practical application of the religious idea. The effete, worn-out civilization of the past was there renovated by contact and admixture with young and vigorous races, and gained new strength and vitality in the struggle for existence. The Church, freed from control, became independent and self-asserting; the responsibility of government, the preservation of social order, devolved upon it, and it rose proudly to the task.”—A. F. Heard, The Russian Church and Russian Dissent, pp. 6-10.— “On the overthrow of the Western Empire, and the demonstration, rendered manifest to all, that with the complete triumph of the new world of secular polities a new spiritual development, a new phase of Divine guidance, was opening, the conscience of the believers was aroused to a sense of the sinfulness of their cowardly inactivity. ‘Go ye into all nations, and baptize them,’ had been the last words of their blessed Master. … It is to this new or revived missionary spirit which distinguished the sixth century, of which I would place Pope Gregory the First, or the Great, as the central figure, that I desire now to introduce you. Remember that the Empire, which had represented the unity of mankind, had become disintegrated and broken into fragments. Men were no longer Romans, but Goths and Sueves, Burgundians and Vandals, and beyond them Huns, Avars, Franks, and Lombards, some with a slight tincture of Christian teaching, but most with none. . . . Let but the Gospel be proclaimed to all, and leave the issue in God’s hands! Such was the contrast between the age of Leo and the age of Gregory! . . . The conversion of Clovis and the Franks is, I suppose, the earliest instance of a Christian mission carried out on a national scale by the common action of the Church represented by the Pope and See of Rome. It becomes accordingly a great historical event, deserving the earnest consideration not of Churchmen only, but of all political enquirers.”—C. Merivale, Four Lectures on some EpocJis of Early Church Hist., pp. 172-177.—”Christianity thus renewed its ardor for proselytism, and Gregory contributed to its success most wisely by enjoining precepts of moderation upon his missionaries, and by the skillful manner in which he made the transition to Catholicism easy to the pagans; he wrote to Augustine: ‘Be careful not to destroy the pagan temples; it is only necessary to destroy the idols, then to sprinkle the edifice with holy water, and to build altars and place relics there. If the temples are well built, it is a wise and useful thing for them to puss from the worship of demons to the worship of the true God; for while the nation sees its old places of worship still standing, it will be the more ready to go there, by force of habit, to worship the true God.’ In the interior Gregory succeeded in arranging the different degrees of power in the Church, and in forcing the recognition of the supreme power of the Holy See. We find him granting the title of Vicar of Gaul to the bishop of Aries, and corresponding with Augustine, archbishop of Canterbury, in regard to Great Britain, with the archbishop of Seville in regard to Spain, with the archbishop of Thessalonica in regard to Greece, and, finally, sending legates ‘a latere’ to Constantinople. In his Pastoral, which he wrote on the occasion of his election, and which became an established precedent in the West, he prescribed to the bishops their several duties, following the decisions of many councils. He strengthened the hierarchy by preventing the encroachments of the bishops upon one another: ‘I have given to you the spiritual direction of Britain,’ he wrote to the ambitious Augustine, ‘and not that of the Gauls.’ He rearranged the monasteries, made discipline the object of his vigilant care, reformed Church music, and substituted the chant that bears his name for the Ambrosian chant, ‘which resembled,’ according to a contemporary, ‘the faroff noise of a chariot rumbling over pebbles.’ Rome, victorious again with the help of Gregory the Great, continued to push her conquests to distant countries after his death.”—V. Duruy, Hist, of the Middle Ages, p. 116.—See, above: A. D. 496-800, and Rome: A. D. 590-640.

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A. D. 597-800.—The English Church.—”It seems right to add a word of caution against the common confusion between the British Church and the English Church. They were quite distinct, and had very little to do with one another. To cite the British bishops at the Councils of Aries and Rimini as evidence of the antiquity of the English Church is preposterous. There was then no England; and the ancestors of English Churchmen were heathen tribes on the continent. The history of the Church of England begins with the episcopate of Archbishop Theodore (A. D. 668), or at the very earliest with the landing of Augustine (A. D. 597). By that time the British Church had been almost destroyed by the heathen English. . . . Bede tells us that down to his day the Britons still treated English Christians as pagans.”—A. Plummer, The Church of the Early Fathers, ch. 8.—”About the year 580, in the pontificate of Pelagius, Gregory occupied the rank of a deacon among the Roman clergy. He was early noted for his zeal and piety; coming into large possessions, as an offshoot of an ancient and noble family, he had expended his wealth in the foundation of no less than seven monasteries, and had become himself the abbot of one of them, St. Andrew’s, at Rome. Devoted as he was from the first to all the good works to which the religious profession might best apply itself, his attention was more particularly turned to the cause of Christian missions by casually remarking a troop of young slaves exhibited for sale in the Roman market. Struck with the beauty or fresh complexion of these strangers, he asked whether they were Christians or Pagans. They were Pagans, it was replied. How sad, he exclaimed, that such

fair countenaces should lie under the power of demons. ‘Whence came they ?’—’ From Anglia.’ —’ Truly they are Angels. What is the name of their country?’—’Deira.’—’Truly they are subject to the wrath of God: iraDei. And their king?’—’Is named ^Ella.’—’Let them learn to sing Allelujah.’ Britain had lately fallen under the sway of the heathen Angles. Throughout the eastern section of the island, the faith of Christ, which had been established there from early times, had been, it seems, utterly extirpated. The British church of Lucius and Albanus still lingered, but was chiefly confined within the ruder districts of Cornwall, Wales, and Cumbria. The reported destruction of the people with all their churches, and all their culture, begun by the Picts and Scots, and carried on by the Angles and their kindred Saxons, had made a profound impression upon Christendom. The ‘Groans of the Britons’ had terrified all mankind, and discouraged even the brave missionaries of Italy and Gaul. . . . Gregory determined to make the sacrifice himself. He prevailed on the Pope to sanction his enterprise; but the people of Rome, with whom he was a favourite, interposed, and he was constrained reluctantly to forego the peril and the blessing. But the sight he had witnessed in the marketplace still retained its impression upon him. He kept the fair-haired Angles ever in view; and when, in the year 592, he was himself elevated to the popedom, he resolved to send a mission, and fling upon the obscure shores of Britain the full beams of the sun of Christendom, as they then seemed to shine so conspicuously at Rome. Augustine was the preacher chosen from among the inmates of one of Gregory’s monasteries, for the arduous task thus imposed upon him. He was to be accompanied by a select band of twelve monks, together with a certain number of attendants. . . . There is something very remarkable in the facility with which the fierce idolaters, whose name had struck such terror into the Christian nations far and near, yielded to the persuasions of this band of peaceful evangelists.”—C. Merivale, Four lecture* on some Epochs of Early Church History, pp. 192-198.— See England: A. D. 597-685.—The Roman missionaries in England landed in Kent and appear to have had more influence with the petty courts of the little kingdoms than with the people. The conversion of the North of England must be credited to the Irish monastery on the island of Iona. “At the beginning of the sixth century these Irish Christians were seized with an unconquerable impulse to wander afar and preach Christianity to the heathen. In 563 Columba, with twelve confederates, left Ireland and founded a monastery on a small island off the coast of Scotland (Iona or Hy), through the influence of which the Scots and Picts of Britain became converted to Christianity, twenty-three missions among the Scots and eighteen in the country of the Picts having been established at the death of Columba (597). Under his third successor the heathen Saxons were converted; Aedan, summoned by Osward of Northumbria, having labored among them from 635 to 651 as missionary, abbot, and bishop. His successors, Finnan and Colman, worthily carried on his work, -and introduced Christianity into other Anglo-Saxon kingdoms near East Anglia, Mercia, and Essex.”—H. Zimmer, The Irish

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Methodist Magazine, Volume 38 (Google Books)

The home-circle, gradually widening, had become a strain upon the family purse, and when the young naturalist reached the age of seventeen, he found that, if a college career were his ambition, he must maintain himself throughout the course. Difficulties, to his mind, were made to be conquered, and so he entered Merton College, Oxford, in 1844. He graduated with honour, and in 1852 he was ordained deacon, and two years later priest. All these years he had eaten the bread of independence, and had paid his own college expenses. His spare hours were devoted assiduously to the prosecution of his favourite study—Natural History. He read much. He read during his toilet, at all his meals, except dinner, during his walks, and on every possible occasion. He was very humble-minded, and always ready to learn; like Emerson, “Every man he met was his master in some point, and in that he learnt of him.”

At his desk by five o’clock in the morning he plied his busy pen, and wrote page after page ere the sleepy men and women of the vicinity had yielded to the orb of day.

His first work was the smaller “Illustrated Natural History,” afterwards enlarged; and leading critics of the day declared it the best book of the year. Thousands of copies have been sold, and many a man is able to date the bent given to his mind in favour of recreative science, from the study of these delightful pages, when still a boy.

The young author quickly followed this work by others equally interesting, and perhaps more popular; yet in no case did he make his clerical work subsidiary to his work as a naturalist. He accepted, in 1856, an appointment as Assistant-Chaplain to St. Bartholomew’s Hospital; and it was, too, in this year that those delightfully instructive and interesting books: “Common Objects of the Sea-Shore,” and “Common Objects of the Country,” appeared. Thirty-six thousand of the latter were sold in one year; but unfortunately his immediate necessities were such that they compelled him to part with the copyrights, thus the enormous sale can scarcely have benefited him other than to bring deserved credit and renown to his name. It may certainly be recorded that, in this case at least, his poverty made others rich.

His marriage was a very happy one, although his family life knew many troubles, which are regarded, and rightly, as “too sacred for publication.” Mrs. Wood’s health broke down in 1862, and her husband resigned his chaplaincy at St. Bartholomew’s Hospital in consequence, in order that he might give more time and attention to his wife, who was then in a very weak state.

Mr. Wood’s love for children was very great, and this was reciprocated, for all children took to him at once. One who knew him well, and had often seen him amongst them, says: “He had quite an army of little friends at the different houses at which he was entertained on his lecturing tours, many of whom dubbed him, ‘Grandpapa Wood;’ and he had many juvenile correspondents.” He always exhibited before them an imperturbably good temper; indeed, his unselfishness and geniality of humour were, at all times, notable. A man of very large sympathies and broad views, he found in children a nearness to, and kinship with, the “nature” which was so dear to his own heart. At home he was still the children’s friend, and a tender, loving father. “He made home bright by his presence, was full of fun, and never scolded, and rarely showed if he were put out.” He was sympathetic to a degree, and suffered or rejoiced in unison with those around him. His conversational powers were great; but his enunciation in speaking was not clear, although remarkably so in lecturing.

His prejudices were strong against vivisection, to which he often reverted with indignation in his lectures. M. Pasteur’s inoculation theories were much opposed by Mr. Wood, from both scientific and moral standpoints. A firm believer in the Scriptures, he would allow of no theories which contradicted them; and never lost an opportunity of bringing forward and illustrating from natural history, the truth of their statements.

Mr. Wood’s love for animals is well known, but the love that animals entertained for him is not so generally understood. He took great pleasure in visiting Sanger’s menagerie at Margate, and was well known by the animals, who actually recognized his footstep. He used to take lavender-water for them in his pocket, in which they positively luxuriated, especially the cat tribe; and if he handed a piece of paper saturated with the scent to one lion or tiger, the rest of the creatures set up a dismal howl of jealousy. He was a familiar visitor to the Zoological Gardens, Regent’s Park, and spent many an hour in watching the habits of the creatures, and thereby gathering materials for his numerous articles.

His study was a peculiar place: it was a curious medley, combining study, workshop, museum and library; full to overflowing,


but so methodical was he that he could find the minutest article in the dark. In this study he rarely sat alone. Outside his window were numbers of the feathered tribe, all chattering in bird-language to remind him of their existence and love of attention. A cage of scorpions at his elbow formed part of his family, whilst his favourite cat used to creep into his chair, gently pushing him aside until she was quite comfortable, when she occupied by far the greater portion of the seat. “He would,” writes his daughter, “leave off in the middle of his work if the cat required him to go and stroke her kittens, which mostly occurred two or three times daily, when she had a family. He mostly had at least one cat on his shoulder at meal times.” Upon the floor of his “den,” littered about, as it seemed to an ordinary observer, were horns, skulls, and bones innumerable, whilst up in a corner stood a cage of exotic snails. Many little inventions in carpentering and joinery-work were planned and executed for the comfort of his pets, by Mr. Wood himself. He was quite a mechanical genius, and could turn his hand to anything requiring manual skill, and was carpenter, locksmith, joiner, gasfitter, etc., as occasion served.

Perhaps his best work is his “Homes Without Hands.” It contains a vast array of facts relating to the wondrous instincts of animals grouped around one central idea, the habitation wrought by the creature itself; it abounds in scientific and practical knowledge, conveyed in a felicitously easy style. With all his incessant labours, he never relinquished his devotion to clerical work, but gave gratuitous services in various places in England, Scotland and America. He was for twelve years honorary curate at the parish church of Erith, Kent, and as such received no stipend whatever from the office.

Mr. Wood drew with great rapidity; and often so accurately that he never needed to erase or alter his original sketches in the least. He frequently covered his forty-feet-square canvas five or six times in the course of a two-hours’ lecture. His fame had crossed the Atlantic and procured for him the appointment of Lowell Lecturer, at Boston, Massachusetts, which he held for two years.

Mr. Wood published over one hundred volumes, besides supplying innumerable articles to magazines and periodicals, while his numerous sketches would form a unique library of Natural History.

He preached at Eden-Bridge, Kent, only the Sunday fortnight before he passed away. He was to have lectured at Walthamstow, about March 6th, and had many engagements on hand. On the 20th of February and the 1st of March he lectured to enthusiastic audiences, and on the following day, Saturday, arrived at Coventry, where he was to have lectured on “The Bird,” on the Monday. He was taken suddenly ill and on Sunday evening, just as the church bells were summoning many worshippers to the house of prayer, John George Wood passed away, at the age of sixtytwo years, deservedly beloved by all who knew him. “His faith,” writes one, “was proved on his death-bed.” He evinced much calmness and Christian hope and trust. Almost his last thoughts were with the work which he had been compelled to leave unfinished. He wrote a few pencilled lines to his wife, bidding her farewell, and directing what should be done with his unfinished MSS.



“I am of the Church of all the saints, and all the saints are of ray Church.” Abbess Angelique Arnauld, as quoted by Archdeacon Farrar in The Review of Reviews, March, 1893.

I Have no fellowship with those who trust

Uncovenanted mercies of the Lord,
For I am of the Church of all the saints,

And of my Church are all the saints of God.

With martyr Abel, hoar Methuselah,
The ordered lamb of God in faith I bring.

The wine of a communion blest I share,
With Abram and the sireless Salem king.

With seers and holy women famed of old,

With all the pure of medheval days,
With saints to-day, who spurning place and gold

Shout the glad Gospel through the world’s highways.

I to the oldest, only Church belong;

By angel-scribes of God its records fair
Are kept in heaven,—a blood-washed countless throng,

The tine wrought gold and pearl of price we wear.

Our creed is God and Mary’s Son, who died

 And lives to save. Who Satan's hosts o'ercame; 

Who rising flung heaven’s kingdom’s portals wide
To ALL believers in His blessed name.
Frederioton, N.B.


President of Baker University, Baldwin, Kansas.


In the light of succeeding events England can have no more celebrated anniversary than November 5th, the date of William’s landing. How stupendous the undertaking on which he entered no one but himself comprehended. His solemn farewell to the States of Holland is full of pathos. He says he is leaving them “perhaps not to return.” Should he fall in defence of the Reformed Religion and the independence of Europe, he commends his beloved wife to their care. These utterances affirm how well the Prince knew the gravity of the undertaking on which he was now embarked. During the reign of Charles II., England had been a dependency of the French crown. James had pledged himself to continue this relation. Add to this the bigotry of James and the complete surrender of his narrow nature to Catholicism, and the rock on which the cause of Protestantism was drifting looms terrible through the fog.

Such men as Philip II., Louis XIV., and James II. open a strange chapter to students of psychology. These men were barren in all that affection characteristic of great souls. They were as selfish as the desert which engulfs all streams, yet gives back no fountain. Yet the love these men gave Rome was as extravagant and absolute as the donors were bigoted and malignant. William did not battle with shadows. He did not misconstrue the writing on the wall. The union of a Catholic England and a Catholic France with a single ruler for the two, and he such a man as Louis XIV., meant the destruction of Liberty and Protestantism so far as this was a possibility of human machination. Three years before, the revocation of the Edict of Nantes had shown to an astonished Europe the length to which the bigotry of the French sovereign would drive him. These facts loomed ominously before the eyes of Prince William and impelled him to venture all that he might save all.

This is a legitimate interpretation of the Declaration of Rights. It has no insular meaning. If it meant much to the Island kingdom, it meant scarce less to the continental kingdoms. Its stipulations sown to tides of air and sea, and borne to every continent, are therefore familiar to the world. In a word, the

“Declaration” means the supremacy of the people. The king becomes elective, and appears the creation of parliament, not parliament the creation of the king. This was a fit climax of Magna Charta; and thus the English constitution, that great unwritten document, was completed. On February 13th, 1689, at Whitehall, William and Mary became joint sovereigns under such limitations. England became in fact, as well as in legal fiction, a constitutional monarchy, and the Glorious Revolution was consummated. No bloody assize comes with William’s reign. That belongs to the execrable atrocities of Jeffries and of James. William’s motto, “I will maintain,” was supplemented by “the liberties of England and the Protestant religion.” Such was his splendid purpose: such his still more splendid achievement.

The record of the events which made William king is a task easy of accomplishment; but the magnitude of the undertaking was sufficient to have appalled a soul less great. Macaulay says, “One capacious and powerful mind alone took all the difficulties into view and determined to surmount them all,” and “the whole history of ancient and modern times records no such triumph of statesmanship.” High tribute this; but the lapse of time demands no revision of the statement. But the task on which the king entered was, if possible, as arduous as the one just completed. The Declaration, when once in the nation’s blood and circulating in its veins, was to introduce the most memorable changes which have occurred in the whole history of England.

William was born to be king. The qualities of mind and heart which justify kingship he possessed in an eminent degree. Hallam says, “The desire of rule in William III. was as magnanimous and public-spirited as ambition can ever be in human bosom.” Such a man may be trusted with supreme powers. Had he been an autocrat, the thirteen years of his sovereignty would doubtless have wrought such humiliation to France as neither Crecy nor Malplaquet wrought. With power like Napoleon’s, he had ground Louis into powder. But in his plans he was often like a boat locked in harbour by adverse winds. Time and tide are propitious, but the bark cannot slip from the mooring. England could not see through William’s eyes. That required his genius. He must first master parliament, then the councils of Europe. The conflict was bitter. Small wonder that sometimes he cried out like a wounded man, and would have resigned the sovereignty and retired to Holland.

Yet it was better that one king attempered for benignant rule be hampered unduly, than other kings of common sort should reign without control. The historian above quoted avers that


“William was too great for his time,” and “the last sovereign of this country whose understanding and energy of character have been distinguished.” For that reason the Declaration of Rights must prevail. English liberties must be maintained. In this view the very humiliation of so great a king was a triumph of the Revolution, whose master-spirit he was.

William saw that continued war with France was the price England must pay for its freedom. That is the key to his diplomacy and sleepless activity. Louis sheltered the dethroned king, and championed his cause with money, arms and diplomatic agents. The war of 1689 was the solitary thing which saved the independence of England. The British people had moments of vision; but the glory of events blinded them. But the king saw on. William’s whole life was one long campaign against France, of which his life as king was only a part. He formed the Grand Alliance, and was its soul. No other could animate so huge a thing. Sublime powers are requisite to breathe life into a, great coalition. He spent parts of each year on the continent, leading the armies of Europe against their common foe. He routed Louis and James at the battle of Boyne. That victory assured his throne and signalized the triumph of Protestantism in England. The struggle for Protestant supremacy had been long and fierce. Catholicism was untiring in machination to secure the return of the English Government to the fold from which it had departed. Plot on plot followed in swift succession. Charles II. and James II. were Catholics—the one secretly, the other openly—and it was the object to which the meagre powers of James were dedicated to return his kingdom to fealty to Rome. So William conquered for the Reformed religion. His victory was a victory for freedom to think and to believe; and the most pronounced panegyrist cannot laud too much the triumph of the Boyne and its influence of Protestantism and progress. He conquered at Namur; but defeat on the battlefield was his lot more often than triumph. His victories came when the battle was ended. France won the fight: William carried off the spoils; and, in 1697, the peace of Ryswick vindicated the statesmanship of William, “when,” says Green, “for the first time since Richelieu s day, France consented to a disadvantageous peace, and in spite of failures and defeat in the field William’s policy had won.”

The difficulties with which the king coped were legion. A new power given the people made it captious. The king was goaded almost to madness by (though the saviour of England’s liberties) being trusted less than the Stuarts. This, as has been shown, was a necessity of the Revolution, but none the less harassing to a great spirit for that reason. He was beleaguered by traitors. Members of his Cabinet were plotting for the return of James. As in the case of his famous ancestor, a price was put upon his head. James offered a coronet to the assassin of the king. The treasury was depleted by the iniquitous reigns of Charles and James. The coin was debased. Continental wars were a source of expense till then unknown. Taxes were in consequence high, and dissatisfaction prevalent. The Tories were avowed Jacobites, and as soon as impending fear fell from them by the coronation of William, leisure and opportunity were afforded for every species of iniquitous practice which infected their blood. No English king besides Cromwell was so beset by foes, and no king except Cromwell was so great.

In William’s time, England was a cesspool of political vices. Honour was a name whose significance was lost. To know the extent of the perfidy of that era, let a man read Dalrymple, Macaulay, and the Shrewsbury correspondence. A querulous parliament, the most stupendous war England had known to that hour, plans which were too large for popular comprehension— all these made the burdens of the king almost insupportably weighty. Meanwhile he suffered, but England grew great. The spell of his genius touched even it at the last.

Before proceeding to the examination of the remarkable constitutional changes which belong to the reign of King William. it is well to pause for a moment to note those qualities of mind and heart in the king which, aside from his genius, adapted him for the leadership in the regeneration of the kingdom. These, I take it, are five in number: His ability to grasp principles, his humaneness, his freedom from bigotry, his self-forgetfulness and his courage. These qualities go far toward making an ideal king. The first implies statesmanship, which was displayed on all occasions, and led to the adoption of Sunderland’s policy for organizing the ministry from the party in power—one of the most sagacious expedients ever resorted to in government.

William’s humaneness was of incalculable worth in England. The people were spendthrifts of blood. Tower Hill was a place easy of access. English mobs had been proverbially ferocious. The terrible penal code in vogue more than a hundred years later leaves no need for further proof of the truth of the statement. William was granite here. No bloodshed must be tolerated on his enthronement. He was as humane as Cromwell in his administration. The result was what we might anticipate. The value of such precedent was priceless. It taught England that political stability could be secured without constant appeal to a headsman’s axe and the gibbet. His act of amnesty was a service to mankind in the spirit it exhibited.

In this article there is no desire to obscure any facts in the life of King William. All will bear inspection. Three acts may be adduced which more than any others would seem to smirch his name. The mob massacre of the DeWitts, the attack on Mons subsequent to the treaty of peace, and the massacre of Glencoe. It may be said that the most hostile and virulent criticism has not been able in any proper sense to connect William with these. Whether he was culpable or not we do not know. He may not have risen enough above the spirit of his age to have been free from taint; but it is safe to allege that the tenor of his life, the humanity of his behaviour, do not favour the theory of his guilt in these cases. Let a man’s history answer for his conduct and the motives which prompt it when that conduct is uncertain. This is a just and magnanimous rule, self-forgetfulness had ample room for exercising itself in his case. Had he been other than he was he could have deluged his realm with blood. He chose to pass by ingratitude, even treason. He won Shrewsbury and disarmed Marlborough by seeming unconscious of their treachery. With him, the end to which his life was dedicated was supreme. He was nothing; it was all. In that attitude lie unknown possibilities for good.

The king’s freedom from religious bigotry is one of his noblest traits. That is always a safe mark of a manly soul. Hallam says, “He was in all things superior to his subjects;” certainly in none more remarkably than this. History has memory of few more noble utterances than his declaration against religious persecution. In this, too, the mantle of William the Silent seems to have fallen upon him. Under him, Dissenters were allowed rights which were inalienably theirs. Such was his catholicity of sentiment that he would have removed the ban from the Catholics as well; and it was one of the charges brought against him by virulent opposition that he connived at popery.

William was courageous. That is a king’s trait. He compelled the admiration of the greatest soldiers of Europe by his dauntless courage. As a lad, he led his soldiers and stood in the midst of the battle’s tempest. He could in one way, he said, prevent seeing his country conquered, and that was » by dying in the last ditch.” Only heroism pronounces such words. His passing into Ireland to vanquish James when treason was rife in England, Green pronounces one of the bravest deeds of his heroic life. .

The changes in the government, some of which are valuable beyond computation, may be mentioned but not elaborated. Such are: triennial parliaments, vote of annual supplies, the Mutiny Act, establishment of the Bank of England and the reform of the debasement of the coin, the national debt and its effect in rendering the Revolution stable, change of ministry with change of party, Religious Toleration Act allowing Scotland its own Church, annual assembly of parliament, and the right of parliamental inquiry. What other period of equal length, or thrice that, can produce such a catalogue of signal gains for posterity? Divine right of kings became an extinct doctrine, the maintenance of a standing army without the consent of parliament was rendered impossible, the national debt became a defence rather than a danger—these and more are the fruits of a reign of thirteen years. Beyond controversy, this proved an illustrious reign.

William was an unpopular sovereign. At a two-century remove it is hard to give this credence. He had in the laigest sense befriended England. He had rescued her from an infamy unspeakable. He had lifted her from a state of dependency on her most determined foe, and made her the chiefest government of Europe. Such services as these merit a reward as generous as the service was illustrious. As logic, this reasoning is perfect: as history, it is wide of the truth. England had few more unpopular sovereigns than William. This statement is not flattering to the intelligence of the English people, but is undeniably true. It is not difficult to discover reasons for this unpopularity, a few of which may be assigned.

The king’s taciturnity militated against him. The easy suavity of manner characteristic of Charles II. and Marlborough he did not possess. His was a great nature, but he was not voluble. There were deeps in his heart that men knew not of. But to his best beloved he appeared a princely soul, apart from his inheritance. Portland knew him, and his wife loved him to the verge of adoration. His voice was harsh, his manner dry and brusque. He had no easy joviality. He was not a figure framed for court society. Easy- affability he did not possess. Worth, manliness, courage, and virtue were his; but these, men could not see, and so it is easy to discover that the geniality which had been so marked in the manner of Charles, but was so lacking in that of Willium, should have brought a contrast to the king’s hurt. Men are easily deceived. They do not pierce beneath the thin disguise of externality to discover genuineness and unapproachable merit.

All Things Medieval: An Encyclopedia of the Medieval World (Extrait/Excerpt)

Rabbits were not only wild or farm animals. Like people today, medieval people noticed that rabbits made good pets. They were easy to feed
and did not take up much space. Anyone with a fondness for animals and
enough money to produce a little spare food might keep a rabbit or squirrel. Manuscript pictures show ladies with squirrels in collars that are clearly
tame pets.
Birds were also popular small pets. Today’s pet birds are usually exotic
birds from the Orient, but in the Middle Ages, the only exotic bird known
was the parrot, called a popinjay. It was extremely expensive and very rare.
Native birds could be tamed, most commonly jays, jackdaws, and magpies.
Jackdaws and magpies could be trained to imitate speech. The queens of
England kept cages of small birds such as nightingales, and a few had African parrots—gifts sent by foreign royalty.
North African monkeys were imported to Europe and were popular aristocratic pets. While a monkey would be beyond the means of a university
student, who might rather keep a rabbit or bird, some ladies kept monkeys. Monkeys could be bought at large fairs, and traveling minstrels used
trained monkeys in their shows.
Dogs were part of European civilization from the start, fi rst as hunting
dogs. Most knights kept hunting dogs at their manors. By the Middle
Ages, there were many different breeds. Hunting required different sizes
and skills in dogs: greyhounds and alaunts could catch up to running deer
and pull them down, mid-sized running hounds tracked and chased the
quarry, and bloodhounds tracked and killed downed animals. Mastiffs and
similar dogs were used for guarding fl ocks. Hunting dogs were not exactly
pets, since they lived in kennels, but some favorite hunting dogs were permitted to come into the castle hall and eat scraps. Dogs are described in
bestiaries in terms similar to the modern phrase “man’s best friend”: dogs
had been known to help solve crimes or to leap onto the funeral pyre of a
dead master.
Ladies had lap dogs, and, in the less disciplined convents, nuns kept dogs
as pets. The dogs ate table food that might have been given to the poor or
used by the nuns themselves, so the church tried to discourage the habit.
Even worse, in some places, nuns brought their pets to chapel, where they
distracted everyone from the service. Aristocratic ladies kept dogs without any fear of ecclesiastical rebuke; a pet dog was a socially approved sign
of wealth. Pet dogs are pictured in manuscript illuminations in different
shapes and sizes; some look like small spaniels, a later popular pet of the
Cats were not part of early medieval Europe but became popular luxury
pets in the late Middle Ages. They rate scantier mention in the bestiaries
than mice. They fi rst entered Europe’s economy as small predators similar
to ferrets, probably brought from the East on ships. Their bones are found
in French towns from the 10th century, but they appear to be small and
feral. As the rat population grew in towns, cats were useful town animals
to keep them in check. Many churches and businesses kept cats around for
that purpose, but these were usually feral cats. Common people must often
have tamed them, but they were considered low animals and were always
associated with witchcraft by the church. Feral town cats might be killed for
their fur, which could be passed off as fox fur if the seller were lucky. Even
as cat fur, it had value. In the late Middle Ages, though, travelers began
importing exotic breeds, such as the Persian cat, from the East. Exotic cats
joined lap dogs as pets for aristocratic ladies, and paintings from the late
medieval years show cats in settings with people.

The Monthly Chronicle of North-country Lore and Legend: V.1-5; Mar …, Volume 3 (Google Books)

A Chester-le-Street contributor to the “Notes and Queries” of the Newcastle Weekly Chronicle gave the following particulars in its issue for March 9, 1889 :

For anything that is known to the contrary, the annual Shrovetide football match may have been played here in the time of the Romans ! There is nothing in the local annals or in the parish records to fix the date of its institution; and there is not a time within living memory when it was not played with just as much enthusiasm if by less numbers than now. The grandfather of writer of these notes was a native of Rothbury, and played in the annual Shrovetide match there as boy and man. Coming to the neighbourhood of Chester-le-Street about a century ago, he found the old custom of his Northumbrian home in full swing in “the city of the world,” as it was then. ag now, known and spoken That is the earliest period the writer can find oral tradition beginning.

How the ball for the game was provided, or by whom, at that time, is not by any means so obvious as the fact that the game was played. But at a later period, in living memory, it can be made out that a Mr. Pybus, a saddler, who was also parish.clerk, provided the ball. The fact of Mr. Pybus being parish clerk has doubtless led to the idea that the ball was provided by the parish in virtue of some covenant. There is nothing, however, in the parish records and accounts to show that any expense has ever been incurred, or moneys disbursed, for such a purpose.

After the death of Mr. Pybus, his foreman, Mr. Fairless, succeeded to his saddlery business, and also kept up the annual and ancient football custom. He married Mrs. Pybus, widow of the “late lamented,” and carried on the saddlery buisness where Mrs. Gibsun’s spirit vaults now stand, and where the divisionary line intersects and marks the territories of the Up-Streeters and DownStreeters—those dwelling south of that point being the Up-Streeters, and those to the north the DownStreeters. The game appears to have been always played between those two distinctive portions of the

Football at Chester-le-Street.

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Titions of the game own-Streeters to bent upon makin

7 AROVE TUESDAY, which this year fell

on March 5, witnessed the usual football contests at Alnwick, Sedgefield, Chester-le

Street, and other places in the NorthCountry. Some historical records of the ancient game will be found on page 54 of the present volume. Further information about the manner in which the old custom is observed in Chester-le-Street may be of interest. Here, then, somewhat altered and abridged, is the report that appeared in the Newcastle Daily Chronicle of March 6, 1889 :

Mr. Joseph Murray, of Newcastle, as the representative of the Murray family, who have provided the ball for sixty-five years, duly appeared at one o’clock, with the ball in his hand. Immediately he threw out the ball the fun became fast and furious, and, contrary to all the traditions of the game, the ball went rapidly up street, all the efforts of the Down-Streeters failing to stay the attack of the Up-Streeters, who seemed bent upon making a strong bid for victory. Right away the ball went upwards, only to be checked opposite the Lambton Arms, and again at the King’s Head ; then it did not stop until reaching Red Rose Hall. There a change took place; the Down-Streeters made a big effort, and, by the aid vigorous play on the part of a few fresh hands, conspicuous among whom was a well-known “county back,” the ball was brought rapidly down street, and its progress was not checksd until it was shot into the half-frozen river Cone. Plunging in, through the ice and rushing waters, several adventurous players succeeded in getting the ball once more into play, at the expense of a thorough wetting. In a few minutes’ time the ball was again forced into the river, and this time several youngsters got it upon the ice and tried to play it there, only to drop through the ice at very soft places and to lose the ball through the holes into the water, all of which caused immense amusement to the spectators. The ball again went up street after a terrific struggle, and there it remained, in spite of the herculean efforts put forth by the Down-Streeters. A few minutes

About sixty-three or sixty-five years ago-it is difficult to fix the date definitely or with exactitude-Mr. Christopher Ridley, now a very old man, but still bale and hearty, met Mr. Fairless in “The Mains” one morning. Mr. Fairless passed on his way towards the Ferry, and Mr. Ridley into the town. That is the last that is known of Mr. Fairless. From that day to this he has not been seen or heard of in Chester-le-Street. The affair caused the usual “nine days’ talk,” as Mr. Fairless was well known and highly respected. So far as is known, too, it was not even suggested that there were any domestic or pecuniary troubles from which he had any reason to flee.

What may be called “The Murray Epoch ” began with the disappearance of Mr. Fairless. Mr. George Murray, then carrying on an extensive business as chemist, druggist, grocer, and provision dealer, besides conducting a farm or two, stepped into the breach caused by the disappearance of Mr. Fairless. When Shrove Tuesday came round he had a ball ready prepared, and punctually at one o’clock appeared with it at the door of his place of business at the north end of the bridge which spans the river Cone, and at the entrance to Pictree Lane. Before ” throwing out” the ball, he addressed a few words to the assembled crowd, stating that he had taken upon himself the duty of providing them with a ball for their ancient and annual match, not only that they might enjoy themselves, but that their ancient custom might be preserved and maintained. If they would accept the ball which he had provided, he would promise them that, as long as he lived, they should neither want a ball nor someone to “throw it out” every Shrove Tuesday.

One word more about the general way in which the

game is conducted, or rather not conducted, for only the players themselves have any control over it. The match is played, as we have seen, between the people living north and south of the Low Chare, the place where Mr. Fairless’s shop was situated, and where the ball was then “thrown out.” There is neither limit nor restriction to the number of players. Association, Rugby, and all other recognised codes are set at defiance. There are no goals, and there is but one object-that is, to have the ball north or south of the Low Chare. At six o’clock, it is picked up and returned to the donor, who at once announces from some prominent place (generally an upstairs window of some public-house) that the “Up” or “Down Streeters” have won the game, according as the ball was above or below the Low Chare at that hour. Everybody is expected by everybody else to play “fairly”-i.e., to kick or throw the ball as he chooses. Hiding the ball for some time and then running away with it (not a very difficult trick to accomplish, and one which is sometimes practised) is put down with strong hands, and without ceremony.

Fast Fashion

That’s getting clothing/fashion trends soon enough to wear to the streets or that’s what I get from knowing about fast fashion, though I think the actual origins of fast fashion (as what somebody else said) began with the rise of sewing machines.

From my experience sewing with needles, unless if you get many more needles on a fabric to get done faster (which’s would’ve been the case before en masse) it’s a rather slow process that even with multiple needles it still takes time though it applies to fast fashion too to an extent.

(It would be tempting to consider ready to wear as fast fashion in the sense of getting to wear the latest trends in a hurry.)

Or for another matter, even Sears and possibly any in-house fashion chain of any mall and retailer but the earliest and longest surviving fast fashion brands are H&M and Zara, where they’re considered to be fast fashion proper.

Other brands from their times might count, just not on the same level of fame and infamy (outside of their local countries and the like) as H&M and Zara do.

(Ironically those same brands are much more expensive here in the Philippines and possibly anywhere else in the developing world save for clothes ending up in thrift shops.)

When it comes to following trends, there’s the desire to get those soon enough and I think not even hand-sewing can suffice for that as I know from experience it takes a long time to sew a garment with needles. Whereas with sewing machines, it could get the job faster and also more valuable to fast fashion.

The Monthly Chronicle of North Country Lore and Legend, Volume 3 (Google Books)

Newstead, a mile or so further on, immediately below Melrose, the numerous Roman antiquities which are found demonstrate it to have been a large town at least down till the close of the fifth century, when the Romans abandoned Britain. The Tweed was here crossed, it is thought, by a stone bridge of which the abutments were once traceable on both sides of the river.

Thence the Watling Street proceeded northwards up the west bank of the Leader, past Chester Lee and Black Chester to Channolkirk, situated on the southern slopes of the Lammermoors. From Channelkirk, where the remains of the Roman camp are still to be seen, the great road pursued its way over Soutra Hill across Midlothian to the site of the modern city of Edinburgh.

In many parte of its course, both northwards and south wards, the Watling Street is still open. During the last three-quarters of the eighteenth century, and the first quarter of this, the cattle trade from Scotland mostly passed along it; and the traffic at some times of the year— as after the Doune and Falkirk Trysts, the largest fairs in Britain—was enormous, the herds of black Highland kyloes following one another, without intermission, for days, on their long, weary way southwards to the great fair at Chipping-Barnet, near St. Albans, if not disposed of elsewhere on the route. One need not wonder to find the road much out up in many places, considering for what a length of time it continued to be thus used without the least pains being taken to keep it in order: considering also that every farmer in the vicinity felt no manner of scruple in carting off stones from it, and that the county surveyors used the same freedom when forming new statute-labour or turnpike roads.

William Bkockie.

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j|ANY long years ago, before there were any ironworks in or near the pleasant village of Tudhoe, or any paper manufactory in the neighbourhood, or ladies’ seminary, or gentlemen’s boarding school, or even a public-house— when the township was entirely rural, and the principal inhabitants besides the vicar were the farmers who occupied the eight farms of Tudhoe Hall, Tudhoe North Farm, High Butcher Race, Black Horse, York Hill, Coldstream, Tudhoe Moor, and Tudhoe Mill—a company of reapers assembled at the last named place, in the farmer’s kitchen, to regale themselves on the evening of the concluding reaping day with a “mell supper”—the North Country term for the feast of harvest home. The mell dolly or kirn babby, made of the last cuts of corn reaped, gaily decorated with ribbons, had been carried home in triumph by the women from the harvest field. with merry shouting, einging, and dancing, and duly fixed up above the dresser, to remain there till the next rear; and the farmer’s wife had had her week’s churnincr bat forenoon, so as to have plenty of fresh butter to regale the company with, and there was a whole pile of barmy fadges, of beef and mutton and pork and homenude cheese—everything, in short to constitute a hearty hearty, wholesome, substantial supper—while the goodman had laid in what he deemed an adequate supply of liquids to- cheer the hearts and raise the spirit* of the assembled company. But either the party waa larger than had been expected, or they drank more freely than their host had anticipated, for the liquor was exhausted before the thirst of some of the older hands had been fully satisfied; so it was agreed that each of them should contribute a small sum, and that one of the company should be despatched forthwith to the nearest public house for a freth supply. The mission was entrusted to a poor fellow, a sort of half-wit, who was always ready to go on anybody’s chance errands. He was directed to go to Sunderland Bridge, which was about a mile and a half distant, and Ret a couple of quart bottles of whisky filled at the public house, and come back as fast as his legs could carry him. But when he had been absent nearly three hours, the thirsty souls naturally began to be very impatient. As he seemed likely to be loitering by the way, one of the men at length swore, with a deep oath, that he would go and bring him back by ” the lug and the horn,” but, on second thoughts, he resolved to give him such a fright that he would run «raight to the mill-house, without once daring to look over his shoulder. Accordingly he procured a sheet, drew it round him, and stalked out to meet “Simple Simey.” His thirsty compotators waited long, but neither the messenger nor the man in search of him appeared. Some of the company went home disgusted, bat a good many sat still in expectation. At last day began to break, and they could sit no longer. But just when they were on the point of departing the poor halfwit rushed in among them, pale and trembling; and when they aiked him why he had stayed so long, and whether be had seen anything uncanny, he replied, “Aye, that aa bave! As aa was coming past the Nicky- Nack Field, a white jchoet came out upon me, and aa was sair freeten’d; but when aa looked aa saw a black ghost ahint it; so aa fowled as loud as aa could to the black ghost to catch the white ghost; and the white ghost leukt about, and when it saw the black yen, it screamed oot amain and tried to run away; but blackey was ower clivvor for’t, and ran like a hatter, till it gat baud o’ whitey, and ran away wiv him aalltogether!” When day dawned, and the men ventured forth to seek their companion, they discovered in the Nicky-Nack Field a few fragments of the sheet in which he had been wrapped, but what had become of the man himself could never be ascertained. Another Tudhoe tradition relates to an incident that

happened to the occupier of Tudhoe Mill about the end of the last century. He is represented to have been a, quiet, steady man, who always came home sober from Durham, Bishop Auckland, or elsewhere on market days. On one occasion he had been at Durham on business, and had been detained till night-fall. He was returning home on foot, and had reached Sunderland Bridge, when, looking up the bank before him, he espied, at the distance of about twenty paces, a stiff-built man trudging along the road. As the place was lonely, he felt glad that he was likely to get a companion to walk home with, although he wondered that he had not observed the person before, as the road was quite straight at the place. The stranger seemed to be a tallish man, wearing a broadbrimmed hat, which made the farmer suspect he must be a Qnaker. While this increased hia wonder that a member of that respectable society should be travelling alone there at that time at night, he quickened his steps so as to overtake him. It was very strange, however; the quicker he walked, so much the quicker glided on the person in advance, and yet without appearing to exert himself in the least. They kept at about the same distance from each other, while both accelerated their pace, until they arrived at Nicky-Nack Bridge, and the miller was about to turn off to the gate on the right hand. In doing so he withdrew his eyes from the object before him, it might be just for a moment, and when he looked again there was nothing on the bridge, nor on the slight ascent beyond it, nor yet in the lane further away. Astonished at this, and determined to solve the mystery, he turned and examined every place where it was possible the man might have concealed himself. But it was in vain that he did so. A suspicion now for the first time flashed through the miller’s mind, that it might possibly be an apparition ; but, as he had never knowingly harmed anybody, he had no apprehension that any “ill thing” could have been sent to haunt or frighten him; and во, without feeling in the least nervous, but much puzzled what to think of the affair, he went straight home, where he told his wife what he had seen. He got little satisfaction, however, from the good dame, who was a very matterof-fact woman, and who assured him that he must have been dreaming with his eyes open. Till the day of his death, however, the miller remained unconvinced. It was something supernatural he had seen; there could be no doubt about it. But why it should have been sent to him, at that particular time and place, he knew no more than the man in the moon. And so the matter had to rest. Nevertheless, if we might venture to suggest an explanation, we should be inclined to say that the honest man had only seen his own shadow thrown upon the road right in front of him by that mighty mother of enchantments, the moon, who had coyly popped in behind a cloud at the moment when the Eidolon disappeared. Many similar legenda (some of which are mentioned in

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IE cannot pretend to determine at what period the game of football originated. That of baud-ball, as we learn from the “Iliad,” was practised in Ionia and the Troad before the days of Homer. We also find it alluded to in many passages of the Latin classics. Thus 1’lautus saya: “The gods have men for their balls to play with.” Seneca speaks of “skilfully and diligently catching the ball, and aptly and quickly Bending it on.” And “the ball is mine” (¡lea pua est) was proverbial among the Romans for “I’ve won!” In this country football has been a favourite winter game from a very remote date — how far back neither Strutt nor any other writer on sports and pastimes can tell us. King Edward III. prohibited it by public edicc in 1349, because it was supposed to impede the progress of archery, then all-important as a branch of national defence ; and King James I., in his “Basilicon Dumm,” fulminated against the game, as he did against the use of tobacco, in the following strain :—” From this court I debar all rough and violent exercises as the football, meeter for lameing than making able the users thereof.” But, notwithstanding this interdict, confirmed as it was under the Commonwealth, merrymakers continued to play at the heroic old game, even in the narrow and crooked streets of London, which, as Sir William Davenant wrote, was “not very conveniently civil.” One of Hone’s correspondents, writing in the “Every Day Book,” says that when he was a boy football was commonly played on the Sunday mornings before church time in a village in the West of England; and he adds that, at the time when he wrote, it was played during fine weather every Sunday afternoon by a number of Irishmen in some fields near Islington.

There is a short description of a country wake in the Spectator, wherein the writer, believed to be Addison, says that, after tiudinc: a ring of cudgel-players, “who were breaking one another’s heads in order to make some impression on their mistresses’ hearts,” he came to a football match, and afterwards to a ring of wrestlers, and also a group engaged in pitching the bar. And he concludes by saying that the squire of the parish always treated the company every year with a hogshead of ale. Football was very common on the Borders during the

long wars between England and Scotland. Whenever a foray was contemplated, as it often was, in time of truce, a match would be got-up, under cover of which neat number« would assemble without exciting suspicion, and concert a plan for making a raid over to the English or Scotch side, as the case might be. At other times persons not friendly to the existing Government would meet at football, and there talk treason without being suspected. Each district had rules of its own; but in almost every parish, and in every town or village, some particular saint’s day was set apart for “playing a gole” at camp-ball, field-ball, or football, as the game was variously named. The usual time was at Shrovetide, when sports and feasting were in full vogue all over, previous to the commencement of Lent. The regular custom was to have a cockfight as well aa a football match on Shrove or Pancake Tuesday. At some places every тал in the parish, gentry not excepted, was obliged to turn out and support the side to which he belonged, and any person who neglected to do so was fined; but this custom, being attended with inconvenience, has long since been abolished.

At Inveresk, in Midlothian, there used to be a standing match at football on Shrove Tuesday, there called Eastern’s Een, between the married and unmarried women, and the former, it is said, were always victorious. This was a peculiar case, however.

In most places the contest was between the bachelors and the married men. In towns where there was a market cross, the parties drew themselves up on opposite sides at a certain hour, say two o’clock p.m., when the ball was thrown up and the play went on till sunset or later, fast and furious, the combátante kicking each others’ shins without the least ceremony, though it might be against the rules.

At Scone, the old residence of the Kings of Scotland, handball and not football was the favourite каше preferred ; and there, though no person was allowed by the conventional law to kick the ball, but only to run away with it, and throw it from him when stopped, there was generally some scene of violence before the game was won, which caused it to be proverbial in that part of the country—” All was fair at the Ball of Scone.”

The conqueror at a handball match was entitled to keep the ball till the next year, when he had the much coveted honour of being the first to throw it up. A m»0 belonging to Hawick, named, if we mistake not. Glendinning—being a crack runner, who had often come off victor in his native town in the matches there, where the opposing players are the residents east and west of the Slitrig, locally known as the Eaetla’ and Westla’ Water Men—was in the habit of crossing the Border every year about Shrovetide, and taking a part in the ball quisition during the day, together, of course, with lashings of drink.

Such are some of the historic features of a pastime

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play, sometimes in Northumberland, and at other times in Cumberland; and he generally managed to tiring home the ball with him in triumph. In some places the prize for the victor was a new beaver hat, and when Glendinning knew that to be the case, he always went away with as shabby an old head-covering as he could find, confident that he would come back with a much better one after a new victory.

Brand tells us that it was once customary among the colliers and others in the North of England for a party to watch at a wedding for the bridegroom’s coming out of church, after the ceremony, in order to demand money for a football—a claim that admitted of no refusal, for, if it was not complied with, the newly-married couple were liable to be grossly insulted, with loud hootings at least, if not getting bespattered with mud.

In several places, it was the custom to carry the foottoll from door to door, and beg money to be spent in refreshments; and here likewise it was dangerous to refuse, because the recusants’ windows were very likely to be broken by the lads as soon as it was dark. Where the game was played in the High Street, people generally took the precaution to shut their shops and barricade their front windows in the course of the forenoon. The scene, when the players got fully heated, would baffle description, old and young contending as keenly as if the ¡>rize had been a kingdom. Sometimes, where a river intervened, as it does, say, at Hawick, Jedburgh, Alnwick, Wooler, Chester-le-Street, and other places, the players considered it no obstacle whatever, but rather thought it the best of the fun to plunge in tumultuously, be the water deep or shallow, and rather risk being halfdrowned than interrupt the game.

On Shrove Tuesday there was always л great game at football in many parishes in the North of England. Cheater-le-Street, Rothbury, Alnwick, Wooler, and other towns, were particularly famous. The game is still played with great vigour in the former place between the up-towners and the down-towners. Brand describes the ceremonial as observed at Alnwick in the year 1762. The waits belonging to the town came playing to the castle at 2 p.m., when a football was thrown over the wall to the jxjpulace congregated before the gates. Then came forth the tall and stately porter dressed in the Percy livery, blue and yellow, plentifully decorated with silver lace, and gave the ball its first kick, sending it bounding out of the barbican of the castle into Bailiffgate ; and then the young and vigorous kicked it through thn principal •itreets of the town, and afterwards into the pasture, which had been used from time immemorial for such enjoyments. Here it was kicked about until the great struggle came for the honour of making capture of the ball iteelf. The more vigorous combatants kicked it away from the multitude, and at last some one, stronger and filter than the rest, seized upon it and fled away pursued by others. To escape with the ball, the river Aln was

waded through or swam across, and walls were scaled and hedges broken down. The victor was the hero of the day, and proud of his trophy.

When Lord John Russell, in the year 1835, introduced the Municipal Reform Bill into the House of Commons, its provisions created much excitement throughout the country, and numerous meetings were held all over England, either in support of or in opposition to the measure. The Duke of Northumberland, jealous of any interference with his manorial rights, gave the most determined opposition to the bill, and left no scone unturned to prevent Alnwick from being included within its acope. As one cheap and ready means of effecting his object, he gave the sum of £10 that year to the ball players to be spent in seasonable refreshments. A man named Joe Ramsay was running down the street proclaiming the glad news, when an old woman cried aloud that it would have been wiser like if his Grace had given the money to the poor. “Damn the poor! they want everything,” was Joe’s sharp rejoinder. There were a good many Chartists at that time in Alnwick^ and they managed to get up a petition in favour of the bill; but the bulk of the freemen, either of their own spontaneous accord, or seeking to curry favour with the duke and his agents, sent up petitions, much more numerously signed, for the withdrawal of the borough from the bill; and Alnwick was accordingly erased in the House of Lords, and remains to this day outside the area of reformed municipal corporations. With the money given by the duke, several barrels of strong ale were purchased, and a regular jollification took place in the Town Hall, after the ball play was over. There was “dancing and deray” to the heart’s content of the lads and lasses, and “guttling and guzzling” among the elders, till the email hours of the morning; and the solid and liquid stuffs left over were consumed next day by all who felt inclined to come. An unlucky Chartist, who had the temerity to intrude himself into the jovial company, thinking there was no reason why he should not have his «liare of the good things that were going, was detected ns soon as he showed his face, laid violent hands upon, and would have been tossed over the outside stone stair of the hall, if some of the more sober guests had not interfered. The venturesome Chartist’s name was Will Hardy.

At Wooler, the game was played between the married and unmarried men; and after kicking the ball through the town, one party endeavoured to kick it into the hopper of Earl Mill, and the other over a tree which stood at the “crook of the Till.” In the days of yore, this contest sometimes continued for three days.

In many of the villages in North Northumberland, as well as in Yetholm, Morebattle, and other places on the Scottish Border, there was always a dance after the ball play, and a general feasting on currant dumplings, to cook which most of the kail pots were put in re

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similar ball game seems to have been played by the Romans, though it is rather uncertain under what name, and from them the old Britons picked up the pastime. Fitz Stephen alludes to it, about I 175, among the pastimes of the youth of London in the time of Henry II., when on Shrove Tuesday all the lads went out to the fields of the suburbs, after dinner, to play. The first actual mention of the game as football—pila pedina —occurs in the proclamation of Edward III., in 1365, when that king found it necessary to put down our game and several others, because they interfered with the all-important practice of archery among his subjects. Eighty years afterwards the Scottish king had, for the same reason, to pass the first of a series of Acts against this and other “ o ; but as he and his followers, keen players all, paid little attention to their own edicts, the game naturally continued quite as popular as ever. Thus, to give one instance, we find the High Treasurer of James IV., in 1497, a few years after Parliament passed one of those Acts, paying two shillings “ to Jame Dog to buy fut balles to the king” while at Stirling, in April. In the next reign it was a popular game with all classes in Scotland. That type of the knighthood of his time, Squire Meldrum, of Sir David Lindsay’s poem, was a proficient in the game:—

He won the prize above them all,
Both at the butts and the foot ball,

the Lord Lyon tells us, while the same poet, in a

Flash of that satiric rage,

Which, bursting on the early stage,

Branded the vices of the age
And broke the keys of Rome,

makes a priest boast that, though he does not preach,

I wot there is not one among you all
Mair ferylie can play at the football.

Barclay, the priest of St. Mary Ottery, in Devon, who adapted Brandt’s “Ship of Fools,” has left us in his “Eclogues” a lively picture of football in a rural district in 1514 –

And now in the winter, when men kill the fat swine,
They get the bladder and blow it great and thin,
With many beans or peason put within,
It rattleth, soundeth, and shineth clear and fair,
While it is thrown and cast up in the air,
Each one contendeth and hath a great delight
With foot and with hand the bladder for to Smite :
If it fall to ground they lift it up again,
This wise to labour they count it for no pain,
Running and leaping they drive away the cold :
The sturdy ploughmen, lusty, strong, and bold,
Overcometh the winter with driving the football,
Forgetting labour and many a grievous fall.

And from many other sources we can gather that the game enjoyed a fair share of popularity for many ages. Shrove Tuesday was the great day in the year for football matches in all parts of the kingdom. A great many of these contests were held in the streets of towns, when windows had to be barricaded, women kept indoors, and the place given over for the day to a contest that too often ended in fights and broken bones. Strutt quotes a Chester antiquary, who says that “it had been the custom, time out of mind, for the shoemakers yearly on the Shrove Tuesday to deliver to the drapers, in the presence of the Mayor of Chester, at the cross on the Rodehee, one ball of leather called a football, of the value of three shillings and fourpence, or above, to play at from thence to the Common Hall of the said city; which practice was productive of much inconvenience, and therefore this year (1540), by consent of the parties concerned, the ball was changed into six glayves of silver of the like value, as a prize for the best runner that day upon the aforesaid Rodehee.” Perhaps in no place was this Shrovetide sport pursued with greater energy than at Scone, in Perthshire. The sides consisted of the married and single men of the neighbourhood

who assembled at the village cross at two in the afternoon of the “Fastern’s E’en,” as Shrove Tuesday is called in Scotland. At the appointed hour the ball was thrown up, and the game, by immemorial custom, had to last till sunset. The minister of the parish describes the game thus in Sir John Sinclair’s “Statistical Account of Scotland”: The player who at any time got the ball into his hands ran with it till he was overtaken by one of the opposite party; then, if he could shake himself loose from those on the opposite side who seized him, he ran on ; if not, he threw the ball from him, unless it was wrested from him by the other party, but no one was allowed to kick it ! The object of the married men was to “hang” it, that is, to put it three times into a small hole on the moor, which was the dool or limit on the one hand; that of the bachelors was to “drown” the ball, or dip it three times into a deep place in the river, the goal on the other side. The party who could effect either of these objects won the game; but if neither side succeeded in winning a goal, the ball was cut into two equal parts at sunset. In the course of the game there was usually such violence between the parties that this match gave rise to a proverb in Scotland, “All is fair at the Ba’ of Scone.” Tradition said that this match was instituted centuries ago to commemorate the victory of a Scone champion over an Italian knight who had challenged the chivalry of the county. However this may be, while the custom lasted, every man, gentle or simple, in the district had to turn out to support his side, on pain of fine. At the time the minister wrote (1796), this old match had been discontinued for a few years, and it has never been revived. Writers on “survivals” of old superstitious customs hold that the Candlemas and Beltane games of ball are, like the Breton game of Sofile, lingering vestiges of the old worship paid by the Celts to the sun-god. It is interesting in this connection to read the words of a writer in an early number of Household Words, which prove how persistently old customs cling to districts, and how recently it was necessary for the pulpit to wage war with the remains of heathen rites in Scotland. “In the year 1826 or 1827,” we are told, “the writer heard a sermon against heathen observances preached in the parish church of Stow, a village twenty-four miles to the south of Edinburgh. The pastoral district of Gala-water, in which Stow is situated, was at that time much less occupied with agricultural and other active pursuits than it now is, and its inhabitants were then attached to the observance of several annual solemnities of pagan origin, regarding which, perhaps, they are now less enthusiastic. The special occasion of the sermon was the approach of Fastern’s E’en, or Shrove Tuesday, as it is called south of the Tweed. The custom was on that day for the married and unmarried men of the parish to play a match at handball. The day, till within a few years of the date mentioned, had from time immemorial been ushered in by ringing the church bell. This being persisted in in defiance of the minister, was at last discontinued. The ball was the remaining feature of the festival. The first proceeding occurred at two in the afternoon, when the ball was thrown over the church. The contest then began ; the one party striving to convey the ball to a given point about half a mile up the valley, and the other party trying to take it about a similar distance in the opposite direction. The down-water winning place was the Lady’s Well, a famous spring at or near which tradition says the Virgin Mary descended and left her footprint on a large stone. In the sermon referred to, the preacher pointed out that the ball sport of Fastern’s E’en was a mongrel relic of paganism and popery, in which it was sinful to participate. He also said that the superstitious practices of the district peculiar to the ‘daft days,’ to Beltane, and to Candlemas were equally to be eschewed.” The famous match that up to about forty years ago used to begin in the market-place of Derby on Shrove Tuesday afternoon is a good example of the old game south of the Tweed. The good folks of Derby turned out in all their bravery to witness the struggle. Ladies filled the windows overlooking the market-place, where, at 2 P.M., the men of St. Peter’s parish met to do battle with all comers from the other parishes of the town. The ball was of very strong leather, a foot in diameter, and stuffed hard with cork shavings. At the appointed hour this ball was tossed into the air, and the mass of about a thousand players made a rush at it, the one side, whose rallying-cry was “St. Peter’s,” trying to drive the ball towards their goal, the gate of a nursery ground about a mile out of town, while the “All Saints” party as strenuously fought to goal the ball against a distant water-mill wheel. It was the policy of the St. Peter’s party to get the ball into the river which leads towards their goal. A man swimming with the floating ball had a good chance of getting it far on its way; but the great struggle was in carrying it across the ground that separated the landing-place and the goal-gate. The brook on which was the water-mill sometimes helped the other party; but so great was the press of players that goals were generally taken by stratagem, very seldom by direct and open kicking. Many amusing stories are told of how wily players have slipped unawares through the strong guard that surrounded the goals and brought victory to their side. Sometimes the shavings were taken out and the cover smuggled in under a smockfrock or a woman’s shawl. Once the ball was in the middle of a big scrimmage, where everyone was kicking and no one could see the ball. A cunning fellow outside just then threw his hat over the mass; they saw a dark object, called out “There it goes,” and dispersed, while he picked up the ball, hid it under his coat, and sauntered to the brook, dropped in the ball, which he did not follow closely but merely kept in view. The goal-keepers saw the mass of players far off, and suspected nothing till the clever fellow slipped past them, jumped into the water, and pushed the ball in triumph against the wheel.

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The following day, Ash Wednesday, was the “Boys’ Day,” when the men of both sides attended to see fair play and to decide delicate questions as to whether claimants were small men or great boys. Disputes were much more frequent on this day than on that of the match proper; indeed, it was said that if a cause of quarrel cropped up on Shrove Tuesday it was by common consent put off for decision on the “Boys’ Day.” This game was, like most others, put down as “tending to foment quarrels and endanger life.”

The ladies of Derby graced the contest with their presence, and even in some cases of stratagem, as we have seen, were ready with more active assistance ; but the fair sex in Inveresk went far beyond this, and had an annual match of their own. In an amusing sketch of the fishwomen of Musselburgh, in this parish, Dr. Alexander Carlyle tells us, in the end of the last century, that these women, “having so great a share in the maintenance of the family, have no small sway in it, as may be inferred from a saying not unusual among them when speaking of a young woman reported to be on the point of marriage. ‘Hout,’ say they, “how can she keep a man who can hardly maintain hersel’?’ As they do the work of men their manners are masculine, and their strength and activity are equal to their work. Their amusements are of the masculine kind. On holidays they frequently play at golf, and on Shrove Tuesday there is a standing match at football between the married and unmarried women, in which the former are always victors ”—a result which the chronicler of this curious custom declares he must leave to his fair readers to account for.

So much for Shrovetide football, which, however, still lingers among us in its old form in some districts. Thus, lately, a local newspaper told how the tradesmen of Sedgefield, in Durham, beat the ploughmen at a match played on what the writer called “probably the thousandth anniversary” of a game exactly like that of Derby; while in several of the Scottish Border towns the annual matches still excite the greates

interest, and bring the whole community out to witness the play in a state of high enthusiasm. “On one occasion,” says the “Book of Days,” “not long ago, when the sport took place in Jedburgh, the contending parties [one end of the town against the other], after a struggle of two hours in the streets, transferred the contention to the bed of the river Jed, and there fought it out amidst a scene of fearful splash and dabblement, to the infinite amusement of a multitude looking on from the bridge.” In the towns, “Ba’ Day” is recognised as a half-holiday, and all the mills stop at noon. At a recent election it chanced that the polling took place at Jedburgh on the same day as the Ba’, and “our own reporter” was much astonished that in this town of keen politicians enthusiasm for the old custom should overcome interest in the election. “Any special stir that prevailed in the morning,” writes “our correspondent,” “seemed to be caused less by the polling than by the play between the ‘uppies’ and ‘downies,’ and during the afternoon interest in the polling paled entirely before the game.” The Scotsman of February 3rd, 1881, thus describes the latest celebration of this old custom : “Yesterday the Candlemas Ball, or, as it is familiarly called, the ‘callants’ Ba’,’ was played in the streets of the burgh as usual. Precisely at twelve o’clock the ball, decorated with ribbons of various colours, was thrown up at the Market Place by the ‘King,’ and a very large number took part in the game, which was keenly contested. The two first ‘hails,’ or goals, were won by the townhead players, but the third ball was carried to the townfoot, and kicked into the river. Some “splendid plunging’ took place in the water, and many of the players got a thorough ducking. On the whole, the townhead had the best of the game.” It is difficult to imagine anything more out of place in the streets of a large town than football; yet for centuries the streets of London were every now and then infested with the players at what Stubbes calls “a bloody and murthering practice rather than a fellowly sport or pastime.” In Elizabeth’s time we find complaints about this. Davenant’s Frenchman thus writes of the streets immediately after the Restoration : “I would now make a safe retreat, but that methinks I am stopped by one of your heroic games called football, which I conceive (under your favour) not very conveniently civil in the streets, especially in such irregular and narrow roads as Crooked Lane.” Pepys, under date January 2nd, 1664–5, tells us he went “to my Lord Brouncker’s, by appointment, in the Piazza, Covent Garden; the street full of foot-balls, it being a great frost; ” while, as late as a century and a half ago, along Cheapside or Covent Garden, or by the Maypole in the Strand, rushed the football players:–

The ‘prentice quits his shop to join the crew,
Increasing crowds the flying game pursue.

The author of “The Public Schools’ alludes to another memorable little disturbance caused by football, when telling us that the Westminster boys now play the game “either in Dean’s Yard or Vincent Square, so that there is no risk of the shade of Addison being disturbed, as he complains that his living meditations once were, by the king’s scholars playing football in the cloisters.”

Away north on the Border in the troublous days the votaries of the game contrived to annoy their neighbours in perhaps a more serious way. Football there was, then as now, a very favourite sport ; it smacked of the excitement of a real fight ; but probably, too, the facilities the gathering gave for making a raid across the Border, or taking some hostile clan by surprise, added a charm to the game in the moss-troopers’ eyes. In Border records we find many bloody endings to meetings ostensibly for playing football, as when in 16oo Sir John Carmichael of Carmichael, the Warden of the Middle Marches, was killed by a band of Armstrongs returning from a football match, at which, as it came out at the trial of his slayers, the


crime was concerted. Sir Robert Carey, in his “Memoirs of Border Transactions,” speaks of his vigilance and his apprehension being excited by hearing of a great meeting appointed by the Scottish riders to be held at Kelso for the purpose of playing at football. As the English Warden of the East Marches suspected, this meeting was an expedient for collecting together a large body of moss-troopers, for it appears to have terminated in an incursion into England. Undoubtedly, however, the most notable event in the history of Border football is the famous match played on the plain of Carterhaugh, near the junction of the Ettrick and the Yarrow, on December 4th, 1815. The opponents were those old rivals, the “Souters (Anglice, shoemakers) o’ Selkirk” and the Earl of Home with his retainers in the Forest of Yarrow. Lord Home, while at Buccleuch’s lodge at Bowhill, challenged Sir Walter Scott, then “Shirra” of Selkirk, to fight out at football the ancient feud alluded to in the old ballad beginning— ‘Tis up wi’ the Sutors o’ Selkirk, An’ ’tis down wi’ the Earl of Home, And ’tis up wi’ the bonnie braw lads That sew the single-soled shoon, in which the prowess of the Burghers in many a hard-fought field is celebrated, while its sting lay in the tradition that it alluded specially to the conduct of Home and his men of the Merse at Flodden in holding back, while the men of Ettrick sought to the death, and their memory lives as Those Flowers whom plaintive lay In Scotland mourns as “wede away.” When the eventful Monday arrived, players and spectators poured from all sides into the Carterhaugh : “the appearance of the various parties,” says Scott, “marching from their different glens to the place of rendezvous, with pipes playing and loud acclamations, carried back the coldest imagination to the old times when the Foresters assembled with the less peaceable purpose of invading the English territory, or defending their own.” The signal for action was the unfurling of the old banner of the Buccleuch family, which Lady Ann Scott handed to Master Walter Scott, younger, of Abbotsford, then a boy of thirteen, who rode over the field, appropriately dressed and with his horse caparisoned with old Border housings, bearing aloft this old relic of an ancient military custom. The Duke of Buccleuch then threw up the ball, and immediately began the tug of war. So numerous were the players, and so closely did they press round the ball, that for long the only indication of play was a heaving here and there of the immense mass until two stalwart “Flowers of the Forest” got the ball out. One “chucked ” to the other, who at once ran off with it towards the only open side, the woods of Bowhill, intending to make a long circuit and carry it to the Yarrow goal. So fleet of foot was he, that probably he would have succeeded if he had not been ridden down by a man on horseback. So excited were the players, that, it is said, Lord Home swore if he had had a gun he would have shot the horseman. The tide now turned against the men of the Forest, and after an hour and a half’s play a mason of Selkirk gained a goal for his side. Three hours more of fierce struggle brought a goal for Yarrow. Honours being now equal, and the feelings of the players being up to the fighting point, it was thought advisable not to bring matters to an issue by playing a deciding game. As it was, in the heat of their passion many came to blows, and, as an eye-witness says, “the ba’ had nearly ended in a battle.” Scott tells us that, before they left the ground, he threw up his hat, and, in Lord Dalkeith’s name and his own, challenged the Yarrow men, on the part of the Sutors, to a match to be played upon the first convenient opportunity, with a hundred picked men only on each side. Lord Home accepted the challenge; but this match never took place, probably for the reason alluded to in what Scott told Washington Irving two years afterwards at Abbotsford, that “the old feuds and local interests and rivalries and

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animosities of the Scotch still slept in their ashes, and might easily be roused; their hereditary feeling for names was still great; it was not always safe to have even the game of football between villages: the old clannish spirit was too apt to break out.” While Scott took a prominent part on the side of the people of his sheriffdom, the Yarrow men also had their poet. The Ettrick Shepherd acted as aide-de-camp to Lord Home, and both he and Scott wrote verses specially for the occasion. “The Lifting of the Banner” was Scott’s contribution, beginning:—

From the brown crest of Newark its summons extending,
Our signal is waving in smoke and in flame,
And each Forester blythe from his mountain descending,
Bounds light o’er the heather to join in the game;
Then up with the Banner let forest winds fan her 1
She has blazed over Ettrick eight ages and more ;
In sport we’ll attend her, in battle defend her,
With heart and with hand, like our Fathers before.

James Hogg’s “excellent ditty,” as Lockhart calls it, is also on the old banner of Bellendaine:—

And hast thou here, like hermit grey,
Thy mystic characters unroll’d,
O’er peaceful revellers at play,
Thou emblem of the days of old?
All haill memorial of the brave,
The liegeman’s pride, the Border’s awe;
May thy grey pennon never wave
O’er sterner field than Carterhaugh

Among the Highlanders, football was never such a favourite game as “shinty” and some others, but with their Lowland neighbours in the north-eastern parts of Scotland our game was a prime favourite. Shrovetide and Yule were the times for the chief contests. At the latter festival, the author of “Notes on Northern Rural Life” tells us, “three entire days were abstracted from the routine of daily labour and religiously devoted to Yule observances. The requisite ‘fordel strae’ for the cattle had been carefully provided beforehand, so that no flail need be lifted during Yule. In a Presbyterian community there was no formal religious service of a public sort, and thus there was abundant time for the ‘ba’in,’ or any other recreation that might find favour.” The game here was as rough as anywhere else. The Rev. Mr. Skinner, author of “Tullochgorum,” in a juvenile poem (written in 1737), “The Monymusk Ba’in,” paints for us the incidents and accompaniments of a big contest in Aberdeenshire, of which this is one Stanza :— Has ne’er in a’ this countra been Sic shoulderin’an’ sicfa’in’ As happen’t but few weeks sinsyne, Here at the Christmas ba’in’. At evenin’ syne the fellows keen Drank till the meist day’s dawin’, Sae hard that some tint baith their e’en, An’ couldna pay their lawin’ Till the neist day.

It is to be feared the observances in the last lines were looked upon as being quite as important and characteristic of the festival as the “ba’in’” itself. In the Eastern Counties of England the villagers used to show so much rivalry in their contests at a game called “campball” that the term “camping ” came to be generally applied to contending in anything. At one time it was held to be doubtful whether the game was football under another name, but Mr. Halliwell has clearly proved by many quotations from old writers that the “campar” was, as one extract words it, a “pleyar at foottballe.” Sir Henry Ellis quotes from Moor an account of camp, which shows that the game and name are very old. The “camping pightel” occurs in a deed of 30 Henry VI, about 1486, Cullum’s “Hawstead,” p. 113, where Tusser is quoted P.157:HMES AND PLAYERS.

in proof, that not only was the exercise manly and salutary, but good also for the pightel, or meadow.

In meadow or pasture (to grow the more fine)
Let campers be camping in any of thine;
Which if ye do suffer, when low is the spring,
You gain to yourself a commodious thing.

The ball generally used in Suffolk was about the size of a common cricket ball, which was carried, not kicked; otherwise the game is very like the rough football gatherings noticed above. “Sometimes a large football was used, and the game was then called ‘kicking camp,’ and if played with the shoes on, “savage camp.’” Camp, Moor says, fell into disuse in Suffolk during last century, in consequence of two men having been killed at Easton in their struggles at a grand match. In the North of England, Brand tells us, it was customary among the colliers for a party to watch the bridegroom coming out of church after the marriage ceremony in order to demand money for a football, a claim that admitted of no refusal. Mr. Timbs relates a curious football anecdote that well illustrates the state of political feeling in Ireland just before the Union. “Wogan Browne,” he says, “a virulent opponent of the Irish Union, was a magistrate of Kildare, Meath and Dublin, and was highly popular and irreproachable as a magistrate of these three counties. Nevertheless, some time in 1797, he was one Sunday riding past a field where the country people were about to hold a football match. The whole assembly paid their respects to him, and at their request he got off his horse and opened the sports by giving the ball the first kick—a sort of friendly sanctioning of the amusements of their neighbours, which was then not unusual among the gentry in Ireland. The custom, however, was not approved of by the Government, and Lord Chancellor Care, upon being informed of what Wogan Browne had done, at once suspended him in the Commission of the peace. He was soon afterwards restored by Lord Chancellor Ponsonby, upon the accession of the ministry of All the Talents, but was again, without further cause, deprived of his commission for two of the counties by Lord Chancellor Manners. This stupid insult, both to the individual and to the body of magistrates—for if Mr. Browne was unfit to be a justice of the peace for two counties, it was an insult to associate him with the magistrates of a third —was warmly resented by the gentry of Kildare.” On the continent the causes that have dealt its death-blow to the old style of football among us have been at work too. The fiercely fought football matches of Friburg, Louvain, and many other cities, “where the contusions would have made some figure in a gazette and where several lives were yearly sacrificed,” are as extinct as the similar contests at home. There was till lately one exception to this : the fierce game of the soille, played in Brittany, of which M. Souvestre, in his “Les derniers Bretons” (Paris, 1836), tells the story as played in the Ponthivy district. He relates how a man whose father had been killed, and his own eye knocked out, by Francois, surnamed le Souleur, lay in wait for that renowned player, and got him down, soille and all, half way over the boundary Stream. This contest was the last vestige of the worship the Celts paid to the sun, whence the name of the enormous ball of leather, filled with bran or hay, which was used in the match. The fury and rancour with which the game was played are almost past belief. The combatants were generally the townsman against the rustic, and many a jealous grudge and little piece of caste feeling rankled in the breasts of the players. M. Souvestre speaks of malicious maimings, of bones broken, and even of murders committed from cherished revenge, but so effected as to appear accidental during the press round the ball when its possession was fought for over the miles that separated the goals. The party that first drove the ball into a township different from that in which the sottle was thrown up, won.

It is needless to dwell upon the most rapid extension of football—whether “Rugby” or “Association”—in Great Britain within the last twenty years. Every town and village have now one or more clubs playing under the rules either of the Association (founded in 1863), or the Union (established in 1871), and the old pastime in its new lease of life is preeminently the winter game of the kingdom, fitly taking the place of cricket during the months when bat and wickets are laid aside.

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