These vices, it is true, were not confined to the clergy.  All classes were alike forlorn, miserable, and corrupt.  It was a gloomy period.  The Church, whenever religious, was sad and despairing.  The contemplative hid themselves in noisome and sepulchral crypts.  The inspiring chants of Ambrose gave place to gloomy and monotonous antiphonal singing,—­that is, when the monks confined themselves to their own vocation.  What was especially needed was a reform among the clergy themselves.  They indeed owned their allegiance to the Pope, as the supreme head of the Church, but their fealty was becoming a mockery.  They could not support the throne of absolutism if they were not respected by the laity.  Baronial and feudal power was rapidly gaining over spiritual, and this was a poor exchange for the power of the clergy, if it led to violence and rapine.  It is to maintain law and order, justice and safety, that all governments are established.

Hildebrand saw and lamented the countless evils of the day, especially those which were loosening the bands of clerical obedience, and undermining the absolutism which had become the great necessity of his age.  He made up his mind to reform these evils.  No pope before him had seriously undertaken this gigantic task.  The popes who for two hundred years had preceded him were a scandal and a reproach to their exalted position.  These heirs of Saint Peter wasted their patrimony in pleasures and pomps.  At no period of the papal history was the papal chair filled with such bad or incompetent men.  Of these popes two were murdered, five were driven into exile, and four were deposed.  Some were raised to prominence by arms, and others by money.  John X. commanded an army in person; John XI. died in a fit of debauchery; and John XII. was murdered by one of the infamous women whom he patronized.  Benedict IX. was driven from the throne by robbery and murder, while Gregory VI. purchased the papal dignity.  For two hundred years no commanding character had worn the tiara.

Hildebrand, however, set a new example, and became a watchful shepherd of his fold.  His private life was without reproach; he was absorbed in his duties; he sympathized with learning and learned men.  He was the friend of Lanfranc, and it was by his influence that this great prelate was appointed to the See of Canterbury, and a closer union was formed with England.  He infused by his example a quiet but noble courage into the soul of Anselm.  He had great faults, of course,—­faults of his own and faults of his age.  I wonder why so strong a man has escaped the admiring eulogium of Carlyle.  Guizot compares him with the Russian Peter.  In some respects he reminds me of Oliver Cromwell; since both equally deplored the evils of the day, and both invoked the aid of God Almighty.  Both were ambitious, and unhesitating in the use of tools.  Neither of them was stained by vulgar vices, nor seduced from his course by love of ease or pleasure.  Both are to be contemplated in the double light of reformer and usurper.  Both were honest, and both were unscrupulous; honest in seeking to promote public morality and the welfare of society, and unscrupulous in the arts by which their power was gained.