and saint, and which only waited for an opportunity of renewing his work. Yet the great mass of the faithful on either side knew nothing about the danger, and John Bekkos (John XI, Patriarch of Constantinople, 1275–1282) was not altogether wrong in saying afterwards that during this time there had reigned between East and West "perfect peace."[1] Thousands of Latin pilgrims went to the Holy Land, following the way by land down the Danube to Constantinople, and all the way they were received in the Eastern monasteries hospitably and kindly. Richard, Abbot of St. Vito in Lothringen, stops at Constantinople in 1026; he calls on the Emperor and the Patriarch, is courteously entertained by both, and receives from the Patriarch a relic of the true Cross and his blessing. Richard II, Duke of Normandy (996–1026, the grandfather of our Conqueror) sends large sums of money to the monasteries of Jerusalem and Mount Sinai to help pay the expenses of the Latin pilgrims they entertain. Equally pleasant were the relations of Greeks who came to us. St. Gotthardt, Bishop of Hildesheim, built a hospice on purpose for them. He says that he himself is not fond of Greeks, but that strangers must always be well treated for the sake of Christ. St. Gerard, Bishop of Toul, had numbers of Greeks and Scots in his diocese. He built special oratories for both, where they might worship God in the manner of .their own countries. It was these Greeks at Toul who, little thinking what they were doing, taught their language to the man who was to be their foremost adversary, Cardinal Humbert of Silva Candida. In all these relations there is no hint of suspicion of heresy on either side. The Greeks heard the Latins sing the Filioque, apparently without emotion, and the Latins were quite content to see them leave it out.[2]
There still exists an interesting witness of these last friendly relations before the final disaster. On the road between the Alban Lake and Tusculum, where the first slopes of Monte Cavo
