were no signs as yet of religious revolt, and though the political action of Rome had been in the main on the side of freedom, there was a spirit of resistance to its interference with national concerns which broke out in the struggle against John.  “The Pope has no part in secular matters,” had been the reply of London to the interdict of Innocent.  And within the English Church itself there was much to call for reform.  Its attitude in the strife for the Charter as well as the after work of the Primate had made it more popular than ever; but its spiritual energy was less than its political.  The disuse of preaching, the decline of the monastic orders into rich landowners, the non-residence and ignorance of the parish priests, lowered the religious influence of the clergy.  The abuses of the time foiled even the energy of such men as Bishop Grosseteste of Lincoln.  His constitutions forbid the clergy to haunt taverns, to gamble, to share in drinking bouts, to mix in the riot and debauchery of the life of the baronage.  But such prohibitions witness to the prevalence of the evils they denounce.  Bishops and deans were still withdrawn from their ecclesiastical duties to act as ministers, judges, or ambassadors.  Benefices were heaped in hundreds at a time on royal favourites like John Mansel.  Abbeys absorbed the tithes of parishes and then served them by half-starved vicars, while exemptions purchased from Rome shielded the scandalous lives of canons and monks from all episcopal discipline.  And behind all this was a group of secular statesmen and scholars, the successors of such critics as Walter Map, waging indeed no open warfare with the Church, but noting with bitter sarcasm its abuses and its faults.

[Sidenote:  The Friars]

To bring the world back again within the pale of the Church was the aim of two religious orders which sprang suddenly to life at the opening of the thirteenth century.  The zeal of the Spaniard Dominic was roused at the sight of the lordly prelates who sought by fire and sword to win the Albigensian heretics to the faith.  “Zeal,” he cried, “must be met by zeal, lowliness by lowliness, false sanctity by real sanctity, preaching lies by preaching truth.”  His fiery ardour and rigid orthodoxy were seconded by the mystical piety, the imaginative enthusiasm of Francis of Assisi.  The life of Francis falls like a stream of tender light across the darkness of the time.  In the frescoes of Giotto or the verse of Dante we see him take Poverty for his bride.  He strips himself of all, he flings his very clothes at his father’s feet, that he may be one with Nature and God.  His passionate verse claims the moon for his sister and the sun for his brother, he calls on his brother the Wind, and his sister the Water.  His last faint cry was a “Welcome, Sister Death!” Strangely as the two men differed from each other, their aim was the same—­to convert the heathen, to extirpate heresy, to reconcile knowledge with orthodoxy,