of course prohibited, a multo fortiori, the valid reception of substantial places, at his own expense, from such unsanctioned sources. And if, besides, he did not make the prohibition in express terms, it was simply because the usurpation had not been pressed within his reign. The ripening sore came to a rupture, but in the hands of his violent successor; and Anselm was the passive instrument of the crisis.

We shall not dwell upon this long contention between the prelate and the monarch; the details may be seen in the English histories of the epoch. It will be pertinent to note, however, that, in consonance with the preceding, the first occasion of declared hostilities was provoked on the part of Anselm. On the return of William Rufus from an expedition against his brother in Normandy, he was informed by his Primate of Canterbury of a purpose of going to Rome to receive the pallium from the holy hands of the Pope. Which Pope? asked the king-for there were then two successors immediately to Hildebrand, and apostolically to St. Peter, namely, Clement III. and Urban II. Anselm named the latter; but the king exclaimed with irritation that he had not himself as yet recognised him, and that it was no more his custom than it had been that of his father to allow his bishops to intermeddle in such matters. "As well might you think," he added, "of depriving me of my crown." Anselm remonstrated. "No, no," he rejoined, "fidelity to me is incompatible with obedience to Rome." The prelate then requested that a national council might be called; and if it should decide against him, he would rather wait outside the kingdom until the royal recognition of the real Pope. The king consented, but with the hope of getting rid of this troublesome customer, through the complacency of his lords spiritual and temporal.

The barons, however, hesitated, on the pretext that it was not their affair, but in reality because they wished, as above suggested, to have the king restrained.* The bishops for the most part † were, on the contrary, found ready for the sacrifice of a brother dignitary in disgrace; but more especially in case of one whose renown for learning had given them umbrage, and the reversion of whose high position, with its vast possessions, might be hoped by each. Not, however, that these selfish motives do not often yield to the esprit de corps, in the peculiar organization of the Romish system. But the spirit of this system, in its full expansion at the time in Italy, had not as yet inspired the British clergy, either Norman or native. The latter were in those days-as well

Hence the pretext and the purpose of the great rebellion against William. Out of twenty, only two adhered to Anselm.

in theology as in geography-the penitus toto divisos orbe Britannos. Between them and the cause of Anselm-which was the comprehensive claim of Hildebrand-there could therefore have been no sufficient sympathy, or "solidarity." And we may add that this double circumstance of deep disparity with those he lived among, and high conformity with the Italians in his theological maturity, affords a compound confirmation of the natal influence above attributed to the social condition of the nation upon the mental calibre of the individual.

The king, unwilling with the division in his council to proceed to extremities, bethought him of another method of bringing Anselm to submission. In the midst of the prolonged session, he sent messengers to Rome and bribed the Pope-the very Urban for whom Anselm had been suffering-with the price of a sum of money, and his recognition as the Vicar of Christ, to have the pallium transmitted to the king himself. Bestowed on Anselm by the royal hands, it would fasten fealty on the restiff prelate; just as Louis Napoleon, the other day, took care to do by some new archbishops, in conformity with the Concordat of his great uncle. The pallium was brought to William, but Anselm would not take it unless deposited upon the altar of the cathedral; just as the first Napoleon would not have his crown from the Papal hands, but had it placed upon the altar of Notre Dame; and as will be, too, we dare predict, the cautious course of his present successor. To this transaction the king assented, no doubt in part from utter weariness, but also because other projects were then engaging his attention, and to which Anselm might be serviceable, as well personally as officially.

In fact, the Pope--the aforesaid Urban-no doubt to show how well his zeal deserved the preference above his rival, which was just declared by the Western powers, had come to France, his native country, to preach in person a new Crusade. The feudal princes, no less barbarous than the serfish herds they swayed, were fired to rivalry in selling their property and shouldering the cross-not to follow Christ in the ways of peace, according to the meaning of his prescription, but to rush into the contrary course of slaughtering their fellow-men. On this occasion the hair-brained Robert passed the revenues of Normandy, during a term of three years, to his brother William for a sum of money. This amount had to be realized, as the secret purpose of the English monarch was to get a foothold in the coveted territory, which he meant to keep in any event; and as it was probable that the treasures of the Churches would be largely drawn upon, it was necessary to enlist the primate's co

öperation, or at least connivance. Anselm gave both, in fact; and how indeed could he well refuse, when the assigned object of the contribution was the prosecution of the cause of Christ?

His complacency in a subsequent case is by no means equally excusable, although no less characteristic of the Christianity of the times. When Henry Beauclerk, the third son of the Conqueror, succeeded William, in the first place by usurping the previous title of his brother Robert, and then by purchasing the resignation of the latter for an annual stipend, that arch intriguer began forthwith to evade the payment of the money stipulated, and made the natural remonstrances provoked by his defalcation the pretext of plundering his simple creditor, moreover, of his principality. This, it is known, he finally accomplished; and, after robbing his own brother as well of Normandy as of England, incarcerating him for life, and tearing out his eyes, also manacling and mutilating other nobles-some his near kinsmen, and massacring several thousands of the Norman people-when Henry returned to England, both himself and such achievements received the blessings and congratulation of the saintly Anselm. To allow his king to lay a piece of cloth upon his shoulders would have been a sacrilege; to give the sanction of the Church and Heaven to these savage butcheries was a duty! M. de Remusat's solution of this monstrosity is not very profound: "The human mind had not then the assurance of undertaking to judge of all things; and state-reasons have but recently come to be looked upon as not imperative." The sneer is at once shallow and preposterous; for the pretension of the Church, and of Anselm as its organ, was preeminently at that moment "to judge of all things," and especially of state-reasons. But the principles on which they judged were the true occasion of the contrast noted. The first of these was, that the sole legitimate criterion of human conduct was its conduciveness, or otherwise, to the revealed ends of the future world; the second, that the propagation and the predominance of the Romish Church, as the only means to these exclusive ends, were of course of similar obligation; and the third, that all wrongful sufferings endured by men on earth-whether directly in the Church's cause, or indirectly through her connivance, and because it might be inconvenient not to lend her sanction or her silence-will be, in consequence, rewarded with ample interest in heaven; and are objects, therefore, not of pity, nor of resentment, but of rejoicing. We do not say, however, that these propositions, which explain consistently the conduct of Anselm, were distinctly before the intellect of either the prelate or his Church. When history is written competently, it will cease to seek its motives in the analysis of individ

uals, instead of epochs. The motives, the morality, the Christianity of the eleventh century, then, were technical, theological, and conventional; they were not social, they were not rational, they were not real.

But to return for a moment to the strife of Anselm with William Rufus. The latter, on obtaining the contribution, left for Normandy. The primate, in his absence, and partly instigated by the papal legate, who loitered behind after bringing the pallium, began to meddle with some fresh investitures. The quarrel was of course renewed on the return of the king; and the ultimate result was that Anselm left the kingdom on a visit to Rome. No sooner was he gone than the monarch revoked all his past concessions, resumed himself the primacy and the possessions of the See of Canterbury, and retained them for some years after, till his violent death. His successor thereupon invited Anselm to return, as he, too, wished the consecration of the clergy for his usurpation: but he also wished the prelate to be reinvested by his own hands. Anselm declined, and the old quarrel was on foot again. This time it was more tedious and tergiversative, if possible; for Henry possessed a good deal of the tricky temper of the Church. The battle now went on in large part by texts from Scripture; and the opposite parties remained intrenched in these two antagonistic positions: "Give unto Cæsar," cried the one, "the things that are of Cæsar, but give unto God the things that are God's." "No one can obey two masters," was the equally evangelical, although apparently quite contradictory rejoinder. In fine, however, Anselm left for Rome a second time, and revisited his See of Canterbury some years after, but soon to die.

It is the nature of a war of words that both the combatants should claim the victory. Accordingly the Churchmen pretended then (and do so still) that the question of Investitures triumphed in the hands of Anselm; while it is certain that in practice (however it may be in principle) the privilege continued regularly in the hands of the English monarchs. Not the decision of the point, however, but its import, is our concern.

M. de Remusat is very right in representing this dispute as a contention for supremacy between the spiritual and temporal powers. Each would arrogate exclusively the arbitration of the same subject, the same aggregate of human actions, both political and individual; and a collision between the contrary jurisdictions was therefore inevitable. But the author is much mistaken in thinking that the conflict must be perpetual, and that the present separation of Church and State in certain countries-as, for example, in America and France FOURTH SERIES, VOL V.-37

-is but a temporary compromise, a state of truce, that will be sure to cease when the Church is able to assert her principle. Ay, no doubt, in that event; but to think it normal is the author's error. It marks his notion, as before observed, of the philosophy of history, as still in the oscillatory or the chaotic condition. With the slightest knowledge of a law of progression he could not fail to have concluded otherwise, from even the statements which he makes himself upon the subject. Take for instance the following results of fact, remembering that by "the Church" is meant the Roman Church:

"The policy of the Church (her predominance) has not succeeded; her power has gone on lessening in all the leading countries, and the progress of the ideas of government, of order, and of legality—the progress of civilization-has been marked by her reverses. The more political governments have passed for being advanced, the more are they emancipated from the spiritual. In proportion as the royal authority, the distribution of equal justice, the regulation of civil life, the direction of education, have been withdrawn from the domination of the clergy, it has been deemed that all these things were on the passage to improvement, and society seemed to show an upward tendency. All this is believed still, in spite of certain ingenious writers, and in spite of some reactions merely transient. Is it that the common instinct of the communities of entire Europe would then have been mistaken for the past four hundred years?"-Pp. 428, 429.

But might not these things, we would ask, in turn, have suggested to the author that the tendency he thus relates involves a necessary destination, which forbids relapsing into constant compromise or even collision with the Church? Yet he also goes still further without perceiving this clew of principle. By vast historical erudition he is led to sketch upon a much larger scale the very modus operandi of the progression. Having before noted that in primitive ages the clerical power embraced the State, he proceeds to say of modern times that, on the contrary, the "body politic comprises actually the Church within its bosom; and the temporal power, in its divers forms, is become the instituter and protector of all the guarantees of society." How this has come to pass he goes on to explain:

"The progress of material labour, the developments of industry and commerce, have not come to us from the spiritual principle; and yet, while bettering men's conditions, they have softened and disciplined morals, and served, moreover, indirectly, to the advancement of the human intellect. The discovery, or rather the propagation of the Roman law, has introduced and accredited in modern societies the maxims and the sentiments of civil order. Hence, for a first effect, the entire destruction or the restriction of the various ecclesiastical jurisdictions. Justice was now inaugurated under its proper name, and apart from the theological tribunals of the clergy; and it is thenceforth that it has seemed to become justice in reality. Also ancient lettersbetter known and better cultivated-have incited those successive revivals which have marked the progress of intelligence, and prepared the emancipation of the human mind. In this way, by little and little, arose, in presence