Sardinia by the Catholic clergy whom King Thrasmund the Vandal and Arian had banished. Originally the body had been buried in the Church of S. Stefano at Hippo; it was reinterred in the Church of S. Saturnio in Cagliari, where for more than two centuries it remained, till indeed Sardinia was overrun by the Saracens and it was found impossible to protect the pilgrims to the shrine. Then the great Liutprand, King of the Lombards, bought the body of the infidel for 60,000 golden crowns, and in 710 had it borne to his Church of S. Pietro in Ciel d'Oro in Pavia, where he placed it in the custody of the Benedictines, who then held the church and monastery, and when he came to die he looked for nothing better than to be buried at the feet of the great Doctor and Saint, and so it was.

In 1220 the church passed from the Benedictines to the Canons Regular of S. Augustine, and a hundred years later, in 1327, the place was given into the part keeping of the Canons of the Eremitani di S. Agostino. In 1350 the latter, it is said, began the work of erecting a great shrine to hold the body of the Saint, probably in competition or imitation of the Dominicans, who by the hands of Balduccio had just built the marvellous shrine of S. Peter Martyr in S. Eustorgio of Milan.

The work at Pavia, it now appears certain, was given to one or more of those pupils of Balduccio who were numerous in Lombardy, probably to Matteo and Bonnino di Campione. It is probable that Gian Galeazzo, uneasy about the murder he contemplated, both before and after its accomplishment, supplied the Eremitani with a large part of the necessary money; other sums, as we know, came from the faithful and pilgrims, and indeed we hear in the course of a dispute, finally settled by the Holy See, of a sum of 4000 gold crowns being given by one person.

With the decay of religion and the horrors of the wars

the shrine seems to have fallen into decay, the church became a military hospital, and it was at length proposed to transfer the tomb to the Cathedral. Nothing was done, however, till towards the end of the eighteenth century the shrine was taken down and carried off to the Church of the Gesù, whither the Eremitani had been transferred. Then, in 1799, the Eremitani were suppressed altogether, the Church of S. Pietro, save the tower and façade, was demolished, and in the outcry which followed the shrine was remembered, drawn out of its obscurity at the Gesù and re-erected in the Cathedral. In 1902, however, the Church of S. Pietro having been rebuilt, the shrine was replaced as we now see it.

In appearance the shrine is a vast oblong tomb covered by a canopy borne by square piers. The whole is of marble, and in every part is elaborately carved and niched and set about with statues and reliefs. On the top of the tomb, beneath the gabled canopy, the marble effigy of the Saint lies in a linen pall upheld by angels. The whole is perhaps a trifle heavy and compares badly with Balduccio's work in S. Eustorgio, but it is in itself a marvellous and precious monument, an everlasting witness to the nobility of the age which produced, and to the men who desired and loved such a work as this.

It is easy to measure the enormous abyss which separates our time from theirs, and us from them, when we realise that nowhere in the world could such a work as this be carried out to-day; but then we no longer hold the Christian philosophy and have so far ceased to be European. It is little wonder, then, that when we would build a monument we erect such a vulgarity as the Victoria Memorial, or such a heavy ineptitude as the Admiralty Arch at Charing Cross, and this though no saint that has ever existed is capable of exciting in us the love and reverence we had for

Queen Victoria. Nor are we alone in this: industrialism has set its loathsome seal upon all our hearts, that without love or speech or sight or hearing we may pass gloomily through a gloomy and unhappy world without hope and without beauty.

CHAPTER IX

MONZA

OME ten miles to the north of Milan, still in the

Splain but within sight of the hills, stands Monza,

which in its memories, its beautiful relics, its thirteenthcentury Broletto, recalls for us the earlier Lombardy, for it was here from the eleventh century, in the first city within the Italian border, that the emperors-elect were crowned kings with the " iron crown of Lombardy," still holy and still preserved over the high altar of the Duomo, before they set out on that long march to Rome, there to receive the Imperial title and consecration from the hands of the Pope.

But Monza, Imperial as she is, as might be expected, is far older than the eleventh century. She seems first to have become important in the time of Theodoric the Goth, who is said to have built a palace here, perhaps a summer residence; but her real and great fame dates from the sixth century, when that romantic Queen with the beautiful name, Theodolinda, made the place her residence and her capital.

Autharis, King of the Lombards, an Arian and perhaps a pagan, had already when we find him king asked for and obtained the promise of the hand of Chlodosinda, daughter of Brunichildis, sister of Childebert, King of Austrasia. But when news reached Gaul of the conversion of Recared of Spain to the Catholic Faith, Brunichildis, who was herself a convert from Arianism and a fervent Catholic, broke off her daughter's engagement to Autharis and betrothed her to Recared.

Thereupon the King of the Lombards turned his thoughts to a nearer neighbour, and determined to woo Theodolinda, daughter of Garibald, Duke of the Bavarians, of whose beauty he had heard many rumours, for she was very fair and slender.

Taking, therefore, a few of his followers, he set out for the Bavarian Court in disguise, determined to be his own ambassador. To an old and trusted courtier was given the apparent leadership and the opening speech of greeting, and then Autharis himself, incognito, came forward and said: "My master Autharis has sent me that I may behold the face of his betrothed, our future mistress and Queen, and may make report of her beauty to my lord."

Garibald then brought forward his daughter, and as Autharis gazed in silence on the beauty of Theodolinda he found himself in love. Thereafter he said to the Duke: "In truth we see that your daughter is well worthy to be our Queen. Command therefore, I pray, that we may receive from her hands a goblet of wine, as we hope often to do in years to come." And Theodolinda brought the goblet and offered it first to the old man as chief; then she offered it to Autharis, all unwitting that he was her future husband. And he in returning the cup secretly intertwined his fingers with hers, and bending low to drink, guided them over his face from forehead to chin as it were a caress.

When the embassy was gone, Theodolinda, not without shame, told her nurse of the strange behaviour of the Lombard. But the old dame in her cunning perceived the truth, and said: "Assuredly this must be the King thy suitor, for only he would dare to do so to thee. But let us not speak of this, lest thy father hear of it and be angry. In truth this Lombard is a comely person, worthy of the kingdom and of thee."

She was right. The ambassadors were dismissed: no sooner did they reach the confines of Italy than