r day one of those
mystics who will believe anything but Christianity proposed to "continue
the work of Penda" in Ealing: fortunately not on any large scale. What
that prince believed or disbelieved it is now impossible and perhaps
unnecessary to discover; but this last stand of his central kingdom is
not insignificant. The isolation of the Mercian was perhaps due to the
fact that Christianity grew from the eastern and western coasts. The
eastern growth was, of course, the Augustinian mission, which had
already made Canterbury the spiritual capital of the island. The western
grew from whatever was left of the British Christianity. The two
clashed, not in creed but in customs; and the Augustinians ultimately
prevailed. But the work from the west had already been enormous. It is
possible that some prestige went with the possession of Glastonbury,
which was like a piece of the Holy Land; but behind Glastonbury there
was an even grander and more impressive power. There irradiated to all
Europe at that time the glory of the golden age of Ireland. There the
Celts were the classics of Christian art, opened in the Book of Kels
four hundred years before its time. There the baptism of the whole
people had been a spontaneous popular festival which reads almost like a
picnic; and thence came crowds of enthusiasts for the Gospel almost
literally like men running with good news. This must be remembered
through the development of that dark dual destiny that has bound us to
Ireland: for doubts have been thrown on a national unity which was not
from the first a political unity. But if Ireland was not one kingdom it
was in reality one bishopric. Ireland was not converted but created by
Christianity, as a stone church is created; and all its elements were
gathered as under a garment, under the genius of St. Patrick. It was the
more individual because the religion was mere religion, without the
secular conveniences. Ireland was never Roman, and it was always
Romanist.

But indeed this is, in a lesser degree, true of our more immediate
subject. It is the paradox of this time that only the unworldly things
had any worldly success. The politics are a nightmare; the kings are
unstable and the kingdoms shifting; and we are really never on solid
ground except on consecrated ground. The material ambitions are not only
always unfruitful but nearly always unfulfilled. The castles are all
castles in the air; it is only the churches that are built on