ee with their interlacing branches and
aromatic herbs, nor thy streams of fish, nor thy orchards, nor thy
gardens where the lily mingles with the rose. I shall hear no more those
birds who, like ourselves, sing matins and celebrate their Creator, in
their fashion--nor those instructions of sweet and holy wisdom which
sound in the same breath as the praises of the Most High, from lips and
hearts always peaceful. Dear cell! I shall weep thee and regret thee
always."

The life was very peaceful, entirely free from care, and moreover
lighted by the whole-hearted friendships which existed between the
brethren. A chapter might be written on the love of the cloister, which
like that of David for Jonathan, was "wonderful, passing the love of
women." Thus St. Bernard burst out in bitter grief at the loss of a
brother monk:--

"Flow, flow, my tears, so eager to flow! he who prevented your flowing
is here no more! It is not he who is dead, it is I who now live only to
die. Why, oh, why have we loved, and why have we lost each other?"

The letters of Anselm to Lanfranc and Gondulph, his dearest friends,
abound in expressions of the most affectionate regard and deep true
friendship. He writes:--

"How can I forget thee? Can a man forget one who is placed like a seal
upon his heart? In thy silence I know that thou lovest me; and thou
also, when I say nothing, thou knowest that I love thee. What can my
letter tell thee that thou knowest not already, thou who art my second
soul?"

The monks' lot was not sad and melancholy. They loved God and His
service, and rejoicing in their mutual regard and affection were happy
in their love and work. Orderic Vitalis writes, "I have borne for
forty-two years with happiness the sweet yoke of the Lord." Moreover
they shed happiness on those who dwelt around them, on the crowds of
masons and carpenters, traders and workmen, who dwelt under the shadow
of the monastery or farmed the fields of the monastic estates. No
institution was ever more popular; no masters more beloved. They took a
hearty interest in the welfare of all their tenants, and showed an
active sympathy for all. The extent of their charity was enormous. In a
French abbey, when food was scarce, they fed 1,500 to 2,000 poor in the
course of the year, gave monthly pensions to all the families who were
unable to work, entertained 4,000 guests, and maintained eighty monks--a
wonderful record truly.

The influence of the monastery was