Historical Tales, Vol. 4 | Page 3

"Alleluia! Alleluia!" burst from their devout lips, as they moved into
the first English church.
[Illustration: CANTERBURY CATHEDRAL.]
The work of the "strangers from Rome" proceeded but slowly. Some
converts were made, but Ethelbert held aloof. Fortunately for
Augustine, he had an advocate in the palace, one with near and dear
speech in the king's ear. We cannot doubt that the gentle influence of
Queen Bertha was a leading power in Ethelbert's conversion. A year
passed. At its end the king gave way. On the day of Pentecost he was
baptized. Christ had succeeded Odin and Thor on the throne of the
English heart, for the story of the king's conversion carried his kingdom
with it. The men of Kent, hearing that their king had adopted the new

faith, crowded the banks of the Swale, eager for baptism. The
under-kings of Essex and East-Anglia became Christians. On the
succeeding Christmas-day ten thousand of the people followed the
example of their king. The new faith spread with wonderful rapidity
throughout the kingdom of Kent.
When word of this great event reached Pope Gregory at Rome his heart
was filled with joy. He exultingly wrote to a friend that his missionaries
had spread the religion of Christ "in the most remote parts of the
world," and at once appointed Augustine archbishop of Canterbury and
primate of all England, that he might complete the work he had so
promisingly begun. Such is the story of the Christianizing of England
as told in the ancient chronicle of the venerable Bede, the earliest of
English writers.
As yet only Kent had been converted. North of it lay the kingdom of
Northumbria, still a pagan realm. The story of its conversion, as told by
Bede, is of no less interest than that just related. Edwin was its king, a
man of great ability for that early day. His prowess is shown in a
proverb: "A woman with her babe might walk scathless from sea to sea
in Edwin's day." The highways, long made dangerous by outlaw and
ruthless warrior, were now safe avenues of travel; the springs by the
road-side were marked by stakes, while brass cups beside them awaited
the traveller's hand. Edwin ruled over all northern England, as Ethelbert
did over the south. Edinburgh was within his dominions, and from him
it had its name,--Edwin's burgh, the city of Edwin.
Christianity came to this monarch's heart in some such manner as it had
reached that of Ethelbert, through the appealing influence of his wife. A
daughter of King Ethelbert had come to share his throne. She, like
Bertha her mother, was a Christian. With her came the monk Paulinus,
from the church at Canterbury. He was a man of striking aspect,--of tall
and stooping form, slender, aquiline nose, and thin, worn face, round
which fell long black hair. The ardent missionary, aided doubtless by
the secret appeals of the queen, soon produced an influence upon the
intelligent mind of Edwin. The monarch called a council of his wise
men, to talk with them about the new doctrine which had been taught in

his realm. Of what passed at that council we have but one short speech,
but it is one that illuminates it as no other words could have done, a
lesson in prose which is full of the finest spirit of poetry, perhaps the
most picturesque image of human life that has ever been put into
words.
"So seems to me the life of man, O king," said an aged noble, "as a
sparrow's flight through the hall when you are sitting at meat in
winter-tide, with the warm fire lighted on the hearth, while outside all
is storm of rain and snow. The sparrow flies in at one door, and tarries
for a moment in the light and heat of the fire within, and then, flying
forth from the other, vanishes into the wintry darkness whence it came.
So the life of man tarries for a moment in our sight; but of what went
before it, or what is to follow it, we know nothing. If this new teaching
tells us something more certain of these things, let us follow it."
Such an appeal could not but have a powerful effect upon his hearers.
Those were days when men were more easily moved by sentiment than
by argument. Edwin and his councillors heard with favoring ears. Not
last among them was Coifi, chief priest of the idol-worship, whose
ardent soul was stirred by the words of the old thane.
"None of your people, King Edwin, have worshipped the gods more
busily than I," he said, "yet there are many who have been more
favored and are more fortunate. Were these gods good for anything
they would help their worshippers."
Grasping his spear, the irate