Hildebrand a Student

Noting the boy's singleness of purpose and self-restraint, qualities so unusual at that age and which gave promise of intellectual power, the Abbot desired to develop Hildebrand's latent talent. He consulted the uncle as to the future of his nephew, and obtained permission to carry him to France in order that he might be under his personal charge.

The remaining years of boyhood were therefore spent at Cluny, where, under the strict discipline observed at the monastery, and guided by his patient teachers, the young monk seriously devoted himself to study. The motto of the Benedictines is "Labour and prayer," and the lives of the brethren were distinguished by "a beautiful union of religious learning and labour." "Eschewing all idleness,” Hildebrand's youth passed rapidly away. Each day brought its own allotted tasks, which were faithfully completed ere the weary head sought its well-earned repose on the hard but welcome pillow.

His time was spent in a ceaseless round of duties, and was divided between "meditation, study, reading, writing, translation of ancient literature, and artistic illumination of manuscripts and parchments.

To relieve these multifarious demands upon his brain, his mind was diverted by agricultural and various other kinds of manual labour which took him for six or seven hours daily into the open air. He appears to have had but little leisure for recreation or for the rest which nature demands during the period of youth.

So exemplary was the conduct of the student and so extraordinary his capacity for learning, that the Abbot, when speaking of his charge, described him in the words of Holy Writ: "This child shall be great before the Lord."

There is nothing authentic related of the early manhood of the young monk except his promotion to the office of Sub-Prior.

At the age of thirty-one Hildebrand left the monastery in the capacity of chaplain to John Gratian, his patron, who

had been elected to the Papal throne under the title of Gregory VI.

Two years later Gregory was compelled to resign in favour of the Archbishop of Bremen, Chancellor to the Emperor Henry II.

Hildebrand, who had the greatest affection for his "lord and master," as he termed him, followed him into exile, and finally retired with him to Cluny, where the Pontiff ended his days.

About this time the government of Cluny was undergoing a change. A young monk had so gained the admiration and respect of the community by "his admirable bearing, obedience, charity, sweetness, prudence and zeal,” that though he was only twenty-five years of age he was chosen to be their head. This was Hugo, "renowned above all other Abbots for his piety and virtue," for which twelve years after his death he was canonised. Of noble appearance and princely bearing, the new Abbot led an austere life, sharing the humble fare and the labours of his brethren even to "washing the beans in the kitchen." So tender was he of the infirm or very young monks, that for their sakes he extended the conventual allowance of food as much as possible, even permitting fowls to form part of the diet. He himself, however, observed a perpetual abstinence and strictly followed the rule of St Benedict, which allowed as the daily menu one pound of bread and two cooked dishes of fresh eggs, cheese, roots or vegetables.1

On one occasion the monastery was visited by St Peter Damian, who was much shocked at the quality and quantity of the food which was placed before him in the refectory. Calling the Abbot aside, this stern disciplinarian commented severely upon the extravagance of using grease with the vegetables!

In this peaceful retreat under the gentle Hugo, Hildebrand's years passed swiftly and uneventfully away, and at first there was nothing to indicate that he was distinguished in 1 Dean Church.

Hildebrand at Cluny

any particular above his fellows. But as time rolled on, his massive intellect towered over his brethren, whom he far surpassed in knowledge, and his firm grasp of logic threatened to rival that of his religious superiors.

Directed by the exiled Pontiff, he pursued with assiduous patience and zeal severe literary, theological and philosophical researches. His unsparing efforts were eventually crowned with so signal a success that he was regarded as one of the most noted students of the age.

Nor was his influence confined to the monastic precincts, for even in those days when news travelled but slowly, the fame of his sanctity, austerity and learning became widespread. Hildebrand, however, in his modesty and dislike of ostentation, kept himself as much as possible withdrawn from public notice.

A man possessing such mental capacity could not long remain hidden. The Sub-Prior, though much against his inclination, was often forced to leave his retirement and go on missions in connection with the government of the monastery. Essentially was this the case when both tenacity and diplomatic skill were required to ensure their ultimate

success.

His clear insight into the workings and cravings of the human heart found expression in tender and passionate appeals to the higher nature and susceptibilities of man, "which overflowed in his discourses and caused them to be eagerly sought after."

Hildebrand spoke with graceful ease and in a sonorous voice, and so remarkable were his oratorical powers that the theologians of the day came from all parts of the world to hear him.

Captivated not so much by his fertility of imagination as by his depth of knowledge, which compelled the response of their intellect, they yielded a ready attention. We are told that his hearers would sit unwearied for hours to listen to his rich and vigorous flow of language.

He is described as being "full of youthful ardour, his

piercing black eyes appeared as if animated by the fire of inspiration, and his severe look seemed to penetrate the consciences of men and to be able to discover what was faithless or doubtful there." The Emperor himself, to whose Court Hildebrand was sent on an embassy, sat entranced by the zeal and pathos of his sermons. The monarch, carried away by his admiration of such resistless eloquence, remarked to the Empress that he had "never heard anyone who preached so boldly the Word of God."

In 1046, while Hildebrand, then in his thirty-fourth year, was still at Cluny, Henry III., King of Germany, was crowned at Rome on the very day that his Chancellor received the tiara and ascended the pontifical throne under the title of Clement II.

Scarcely had the Emperor in all the pomp and glory of his new dignity returned to Germany when a rival power arose in the country he had just quitted. A new era was commenced and a sword unsheathed which was to turn its edge upon the imperial throne and loosen its hold upon Italy for ever.

In one of the most picturesque provinces of Tuscany to the south-west of Reggio, from which it was about fifteen miles' journey, stood the famous Castle of Canossa, round the foot of which the little village nestled trustingly under its shadow as if seeking the protection of its tall and powerful neighbour.

The stronghold, grand and stern in its solitude, rose majestically from the rocky base, of which one side only was accessible; it crowned a height commanding a vast prospect, beyond which lay the rich and sunny plains of Lombardy on the north, and on the south a magnificent view of the Apennines.

The fortress, enclosed within three stone walls, two of which were connected by a bridge, was secure in its strength and position, and defied any hostile attempts to penetrate within its massive gates. This impregnable fortress was built early in the tenth century by Count Azzo "of martial

Canossa

memory, the founder of the house and the Achilles of the family."

The adventures of this mighty warrior have been handed down with the halo of romance with which tradition has surrounded them and form the basis of many a thrilling story. "Azzo," sings the poet chronicler in his personification of the mighty Castle, "was everything at Canossa. Azzo multiplied my towers and elevated my walls as far as the sky. Was it not by me he became rich, by me he became rich and powerful, by me that everything came to him? It was then natural that all he had conquered of beauty, of rare virtue, casques, armour, breast-plates, battle-axes and swords should serve to ornament my vast halls."1

In Canossa was born to Azzo his heir who married the sister of Hugh Capet, King of France. They had but one son, Boniface, who, though less renowned than his sires, became equally celebrated for his open-handed hospitality. His princely deportment and his lavish expenditure, which by a wise administration of his immense estate does not appear to have affected his revenue, won for him the title of "Magnificent." The rulers of the adjacent provinces, however envious they may have been of his fortunes, were considerably impressed by his grandeur and power, and paid him almost regal respect.

To the Castle, after his father's death, Boniface brought his young and beautiful bride, Beatrice of Lorraine, a princess related by close ties to the imperial family and to the French monarch.

In 1044 the walls of the grim fortress echoed the feeble infantine cries of the heir which had been born to the estates of Boniface.

Great was the Margrave's joy at the event which was, as he believed, to perpetuate his race, and many toasts were drunk by the doughty knight and his friends to the health and future renown of the little Frederic.

Two years later there was a daughter added to the