The Intelligent Foreigner at Canterbury.

Te Aroha News, Volume IV, Issue 180, 27 November 1886, Page 6

The Intelligent Foreigner at Canterbury.

Like your John Bunions, Mr Fun, I have ■ been pilgrim, sare ; for have I not just return from ze shrine of your saint, Thomas a Becket Vraiment, your Englese have not produce many saints among so many sinnaires. Evfin, like your poet that chem — I go say chan — I go vag my Canterbury tale. Ze dear old town, I seem yen I arrivein its sleepy streets, vit gabled house and no noise, no house zat Jerry built, no brutal modern improvements, zat I ha\e gone back guabrt siecles in history of England. I close my eyes, and I sink I see your vife zat go to Bath, your manciple, your prior, your yo-ho ! man, your knight, and I run againat ze heaver of coal 3, and open zem again in ze nineteen hundreds. Ze first sing I observe is ze grand ole gatevay zey call ze Vestgate, but zey tell me zare is no gate call ze Trousares. Zare are two towers stand in ze Vestgate vich in turn stand upon ze bank of its Stour. I pass ze Inn of ze Chequera, so call, I understand, because Chaucer, he zay the pilgrims vas use to take draughts zare. I got ze Monastery of Saint Augustine, a chapter, a raiment, a volume of History of England written in stone full of ze memories of saints and kings and sinners, from Augustine and Ethelbert to ze Stuarhj ; alse ze Church of St. Martin, ze earliest in your island, raised yen Rome vas an Empire and Britons vare barbarians. Ze Empireofßomehaspassed.andaw/owrd'Aimt is Britain zat ia'ExnpirQmaintenant, zechurch it remains and «o do some of ze barbarians as I pee from the courts of police. From zare I pass to ze Dane Johti, vere I am charm vit ze lovely view, vich, if it vere en continent you Englese would travel hundreds of miles to see. On ze Dane John I am struck by ze sun dial vich tell ze hours and vas made by weeks and have stood zare for years. Zen vit reverend step I enter ze grand Cathedral, and I reflect how if I vare Engleseman I should be proud to sink how long my country had been great nation. Ze guide who take me over ze Cathedral is certainement Tory, so full is he of anger against Oliver Cromwells. He tell me of z© jewels, ze treasures, ze paintings stolen by ze Puritans, ze magnifique carvings cover vit vash of vite. Ma foi ! ze Puritans in zeir day vare almost as much Ironhearts as Ironsides ; but 1 remind ze guide zat but for zem ze Roman candles might still be burning in ze grand altar. Mort de maire ! ze vare not so bad as your Henry ze Eightful, who reform ze Church by taking from her ze temptation of her riches, and who rob ze shrine of St. Thomas itself. And my soughts zey go backwards like your crab lobstare, and in ze eye of my mind, as your Shakespeare says, I ccc vile I stand in ze Chapel of St. Benedict ze grand ambitious Thomas a Beuket comiDg. from ze transept, vile ze knights of Henry ze Two avait him vit la mort in zair hands. It is ze grand tableau — ze last of ze struggle between ze king and ze favourite he have raise up, and who, like so many more, try to kick down ze ladder by wich he hay& climb. Ma foi ! it is ze last move mze game of chess— kingcraft against priestcraft, ze king remain in France behind biscastle, he have sent his knights to attack ze bishop. Like so many ozzares great men, Becket, full of faults in hia life, ia grandest and bravest in death. Ze emissaries of ze king can kill his^ body, but not his spirit. Par la mort il vaine. But, Mr Fun, I ask is your grand Cathedral, your sepulchre of kings, prelates, and varriors, your shrine of saint a show ot peep for zat you sould pay to , behold it six pennya ze head ? Par maire ! I sink zat ze charge for admission desecrate ze grand and holy place more zan did ze Puritans.— "Fun."