injustice, and cruelty. The clergy quarrelled only among
themselves. They were human, and not wholly free from human
frailties; but they were not public robbers. They were the best
farmers of their times; they cultivated lands, and made them
attractive by fruits and flowers. They were generally industrious;
every convent was a beehive, in which various kinds of manufactures
were produced. The monks aspired even to be artists. They
illuminated manuscripts, as well as copied them; they made
tapestries and beautiful vestments. They were a peaceful and
useful set of men, at this period, outside their spiritual
functions; they built grand churches; they had fruitful gardens;
they were exceedingly hospitable. Every monastery was an inn, as
well as a beehive, to which all travellers resorted, and where no
pay was exacted. It was a retreat for the unfortunate, which no
one dared assail. And it was vocal with songs and anthems.

The clergy were not only thus general benefactors in an age of
turbulence and crime, in spite of all their narrowness and
spiritual pride and their natural ambition for power, but they lent
a helping hand to the peasantry. The Church was democratic, and
enabled the poor to rise according to their merits, while nobles
combined to crush them or keep them in an ignoble sphere. In the
Church, the son of a murdered peasant could rise according to his
deserts; but if he followed a warrior to the battle-field, no
virtues, no talents, no bravery could elevate him,--he was still a
peasant, a low-born menial. If he entered a monastery, he might
pass from office to office until as a mitred abbot he would become
the master of ten thousand acres, the counsellor of kings, the
equal of that proud baron in whose service his father spent his
abject life. The great Hildebrand was the son of a carpenter. The