and his fowl.
The Truce forbade war at certain "closed seasons." It gave angry
passions time to subside, and endeavored to discredit war by making
peace more desirable and its blessings more prolonged. It is probable
that the Council of Charroux already mentioned laid the germs of the
Truce. At the Council of Elne we see it fully organized. In 1139 the
Tenth General Council, the Second Lateran, gave in its eleventh Canon
its official approbation to what must be considered one of the most
beautiful institutions of the Middle Ages.

Under the guidance of our American author, George Henry Miles, we are
led back to the days of the eleventh century. He is an accurate and
picturesque chronicler of that iron, yet chivalrous age. If on the one
hand, we see the sinister figure of Henry IV of Germany, on the other we
find the austere but noble monk Hildebrand, who became Pope St. Gregory
VII. We hear the clash of swords drawn in private brawl and vendetta,
but see them put back into the scabbard at the sound of the church bells
that announce the beginning of the "Truce of God." The tale opens
beneath the arches of a Suabian forest, with Gilbert de Hers and Henry
de Stramen facing each other's swords as mortal foes; it closes with
Gilbert and Henry, now reconciled, kneeling at the tomb of the fair and
lovely Lady Margaret, their hates forgotten before the grave of
innocence and maidenly devotion, and learning from the hallowed memory
of the dead, the lesson of that forgiveness that makes us divine.

The American novelist, like the Italian Manzoni, teaches the lesson
inculcated in "The Betrothed" ("_I Promessi Sposi_"). It is a lesson
of forgiveness. It is noblest to forgive. Forgiveness is divine. Forgive
seventy times seventy times, again and again. In Manzoni's story, the
saintly Frederick Borromeo preaches and acts that sublime lesson in his
scene with the _Innominato_ with compelling eloquence. In "The Truce of
God," the Lady Margaret, the monk Omehr, the very woes of the Houses of
Hers and Stramen, the tragic madness of the unfortunate Bertha, the
blood shed in a senseless and passionate quarrel, the bells of the
sanctuary bidding the warring factions sheathe the sword, incessantly
proclaim the same duty. In writing his story, George Henry Miles was not
only painting for us a picture aglow with the life of olden times, but
pointing out in a masterly way, the historic role of the Church in
molding the manners of an entire gen