lated or alluded to by Appian and Dionysius the geographer, amongst the Greeks, and by Justin, Virgil, Silius Italicus, and others of the Latins, has no foundation, I apprehend, in the truth of history, and indeed is generally exploded by the learned. However, let us see how later writers have conducted themselves in respect thereof; it was a subtile pleasing artifice, and they were very unwilling not to make use of it, for the embellishment of their respective works.

First, Sigebert, Monk of Gemblours, who flourished A. 1100, has applied it to Hengist, the first Saxon King of Kent, saying, that the place purchased of the British King, and inclosed by him, was called Castellum Corrigiæ, or the Castle of the Thong; but now, there being several more of the name of Thong or Tong in England, as in Kent, Lincolnshire, Shropshire, and Yorkshire, (Doncaster being written in Saxon Thongeceaster,) the story has been applied to most, if not all of them; and with equal justice, being probably false in regard to them all. It is true, Sigebert knew nothing of the Greek authors above-mentioned, but then he was well acquainted with Justin and Virgil; and the same may be said of Jeffrey, of Monmouth, A. 1159, who has the same story, and, if he followed not Sigebert, which is highly probable, took it from one of the Latin authors.

*

Secondly, Saxo Grammaticus, who wrote about A. 1170, has applied the story to Ivarus,† making him use the same artifice in respect of Hella, and by that means getting a footing in Britain, which he became master of for two years. Saxo might take it either from Jeffrey or Sigebert; or Justin, if you please, as he made great use of this author. We can account very rationally, you observe, Mr. Urban, for the proceedings of these three authors, Sigebert, Jeffrey, and Saxo Grammaticus, but what shall we say, thirdly, to an affair of the like kind in the East Indies? "There is

a tradition," Hamilton says, p. 136. "that the Portuguese circumvented the King of Guzerat, as Dido did the Africans, when they gave her leave to build Carthage, by desiring no more ground to build their cities than could be circumscribed in an ox's hide, which having obtained, they cut into a fine thong of a great length," &c. The Indians knew nothing of the authors above-mentioned, nor probably did those Portuguese who first made the settlement at Diu. I am of opinion, therefore, that as Hamilton calls it only a

* See Lambarde's Topograph. Diet. p. 16. Camdeni Col. 569.

+ It is a bad omen, that these authors do not agree in the person any more than others do in respect of the place,

Saxo Gram. p. 176.

tradition, this tradition was set on foot long after the time, and perhaps by some of the first missionaries that went thither, who, we may suppose, had often heard or read of the like fabulous narrations in Europe, and accordingly invented this at Guzerat for the amusement of their countrymen.

1771, Νου.

I am, Sir,

Your most obedient,

T.Row.

LXX. Account of the Burning and Rebuilding of the Church at Canterbury, in the year 1174. From the Latin of Gervase, one of the Monks, who was an Eye-witness.

ON the 5th of September, in the year of grace 1174, about nine o'clock, the wind blowing from the south with a fury almost beyond conception, a fire broke out before the church gate, by which three small houses were almost burnt down. While the citizens were there employed in extinguishing the flames, the sparks and ashes, whirled aloft by the violence of the storm, were lodged on the church, and, by the force of the wind, insinuating themselves between the joints of the lead, settled on the planks which were almost rotten, and thus, by degrees, the heat increasing, the decayed joists were set on fire; but the finely painted ceiling underneath, and the lead covering above, concealed the flame. Meantime, the three small houses being pulled down, the people returned home. No one being yet apprized of the fire in the church, the sheets of lead began, by degrees, to melt; and, on a sudden, the flames just appearing, there was a great cry in the church-yard, "Alas! alas! the church is on fire." Many of the laity ran together with the monks, to draw water, to bring axes, to mount ladders, all eager to succour Christ Church, now just on the point of destruction. They reached the roof, but behold! all was filled with a horrible smoke and a scorching flame. In despair, therefore, they were obliged to consult their own safety by retiring. And now, the joints of the rafters being consumed, the half-burnt timbers fell into the choir; the seats of the monks were set on fire, and on all sides the calamity increased. In this conflagration, that glorious choir made a wonderful and awful appearance. The flames ascended to a great height, and the pillars of the church were damaged or destroyed. Great numbers applied to the

ornaments of the church, and tore down the palls, and hangings, some to steal, others to preserve them. The chests of relics, thrown from the lofty beam upon the pavement, were broken, and the relics scattered; but lest they should be consumed, they were collected and laid up by the brethren. Some there were, who, inflamed with a wicked and diabolical avarice, saved the goods of the church from the fire, but did not scruple to carry them away. Thus the house of God, hitherto delightful like a paradise of pleasure, then lay contemptible in the ashes of the fire. The people, astonished, and in a manner frantic for grief, tore their hair, and uttered some enormnous reproaches against the Lord and his saints, namely, the patrons of the church. There were laymen, as well as monks, who would rather have died than have seen the church of God so miserably perish; for not only the choir, but also the infirmary, with St. Mary's Chapel, and some other offices of the Court, were reduced to ashes. The calamities of Canterbury were no less lamentable than those of Jerusalem of old under the tears and lamentations of Jeremiah. The grief and distress of the sons of the church were so great, that no one can conceive, relate, or write them; but, to relieve their miseries, they fixed the altar, such as it was, in the nave of the church, where they howled, rather than sung, matins and vespers. The patrons of the church, St. Dunstan and St. Elphege, were, with incredible grief and anguish, taken from their tombs, and placed, as decently as possible, in the nave of the church, at the altar of the holy cross. Meanwhile, the brethren consulted how, and by what method, the ruined church might be repaired. Architects, both French and English, were therefore assembled: but they disagreed in their opinions; some undertook to repair, while others, on the contrary, affirmed that the whole church must be taken down, if the monks wished to dwell in safety. This, though true, overwhelmed them with grief. Among the architects there was one William of Sens, a man of great abilities, and a most curious workman in wood and stone. Neglecting the rest, him they chose for the undertaking. Patiently, though not willingly, they agreed to take down the ruined choir. Attention was given to the procuring stones from abroad. He made most ingenious machines for loading and unloading ships, for He delivered, also, to the rawing the mortar and stones. masons who were assembled, models for cutting the stones;

*Now called the Green Court. E

and, in like manner, he made many other preparations. The choir, therefore, devoted to destruction, was taken down, and nothing more was done for the whole first year.

... In the year ensuing, Master William erected four pillars, two on each side. Winter being over, he placed two more, that on either side there might be three in a row; upon which, and the other wall of the aisles, he neatly turned arches and a vault; that is, three keys on each side. By the key I mean the whole roof, as the key placed in the middle seems to close and strengthen the parts on each side. This was the employment of the second year.

In the third year, he placed two pillars on each side, the two last of which he decorated with marble columns; and, because the choir and the crosses were there to meet, he made them the principal. On them key-stones being placed, and an arch turned, from the great tower as far as the before-mentioned pillars, that is, as far as the cross, he introduced in the lower cloister several marble columns; above which he made another cloister of different materials, and upper windows; after that, three keys of a great arch, namely, from the lower to the crosses: all which seemed to us, and to every one, inimitable, and in the highest degree praiseworthy.

Thus the third year ended, and the fourth began; in the summer of which, beginning at the cross, he erected ten pillars, that is, five on each side. Adorning the two first, opposite to the two others, with marble columns, he made them the principal. On these ten he placed arches and vaults. Both the cloisters and the upper windows being finished, while he was preparing his machines for turning the great arch, at the beginning of the fifth year, the scaffold on a sudden gave way, and he came to the ground from the height of the crown of the upper arch, which is fifty feet. Being grievously bruised, he was utterly unable to attend to the work. No one but himself received the least hurt. Either the vengeance of God, or the envy of the Devil, wreaked itself on him alone. Master William, being. thus hurt, entrusted the completion of the work to a certain ingenious monk who was overseer of the rough masons; which occasioned him much envy and ill-will. The archi tect, nevertheless, lying in bed, gave orders what was first, and what last, to be done. A roof, therefore, was made between the four principal pillars; at the key of which roof the choir and the crosses seem, in a manner, to meet. Two roofs, also, one on each side, were made before winter; but the weather, being extremely rainy, would not suffer

more to be done. In the fourth year there was an eclipse of the sun on the 6th of September, at six o'clock, a few months before the architect's accident. At length, finding no benefit from the skill and attention of his surgeons, he gave up the work, and, crossing the sea, went home to France.

In the summer of the fifth year, another William, an Englishman, succeeded the first William in the care of the work; a man of a diminutive stature, but in various ways extremely ingenious and honest. He finished both the north and the south cross, and turned the roof which is over the high altar, which, when every thing was prepared, could not be done the year before, on account of the rains. At the east end, also, he laid the foundation of the chapel of the Holy Trinity, where St. Thomas first solemnized mass, and used to indulge himself in tears and prayers, in the undercroft of which he had been so many years buried, where GOD, through his merits, wrought many miracles; where rich and poor, kings and princes, worshipped him, from whence the sound of his praise went forth into all the world. In digging this foundation, Master William was obliged to take out the bones of several holy monks, which, being carefully collected, were re-interred in a large trench, in the angle between the chapel and the infirmary towards the south. This done, and the foundation of the outer wall being made extremely strong of stone and mortar, he built the wall of the undercroft as high as the bases of the windows. This was the business of the fifth year, and the beginning of the sixth; but the spring of this now approaching, and the season of working being at hand, the monks were inflamed with a most eager desire to prepare the choir, so that they might enter it at the next Easter. The architect used his utmost effort to fulfil the wishes of the convent. He also built the three altars of the chancel. He carefully prepared a place of rest for St. Dunstan* and St. Elpheget. A wooden wall, too, for keeping out the weather, was placed across the east end, between the last pillars but one, containing three windows. They were desirous to enter the choir, though with great labour and too much haste it was scarcely prepared, on Easter Eve. But because every thing that was to be done on that Sabbath day, could not, on account of that solemnity, be fully done, in a proper, decent manner, it was necessary that

+ Elphege was stoned to death by the Danes at Greenwich, in 1012. E..