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Anselm , and subjected him at last to the full rigour of monastic discipline, even to the extent of punishing him with stripes—Osbern stood all these tests even in the face of taunts from his companions, and became exceedingly dear to the prior, who rejoiced over his steady growth in goodness. After a while, however, he was stricken with a mortal illness. Anselm watched him by day and night. As the end drew near, Anselm charged him, if it were possible, to reveal himself to him after death. Osbern promised and passed away. When the body was placed in the church and the brethren were chanting the psalms, Anselm retired to a corner of the building to weep and pray in secret, and at length, overpowered by weariness and sorrow, he fell asleep. In his sleep he saw certain forms of most reverend aspect, clad in the whitest of garments, enter the room where Osbern had died, and sit in a circle as if to give judgment. Presently there entered Osbern himself, pale and haggard. Anselm asked him how he fared. ‘Thrice,’ said he, ‘did the old serpent rise up against me, thrice did I fall backwards, and thrice did the bearward of the Lord deliver me.’ Then Anselm awoke and was comforted, Vita, i. 13–16). The memory of Osbern never faded from his mind. During a whole year he offered a daily mass for Osbern's soul, and in one of his letters to his friend Gundulf, bishop of Rochester (Ep. i. 4), he writes: ‘Wherever Osbern is, his soul is my soul; farewell! farewell! I pray, I pray, I pray, remember me, and forget not the soul of Osbern my beloved, and if that seem too much for you, then forget me and remember him.’

Notwithstanding his powerful influence, Anselm shrank with extreme reluctance from the responsibility of ruling others. When he was unanimously elected abbot of Bec on the death of Herlwin, he besought the brethren with the most passionate entreaties to spare him; and it was only in deference to their persistence and the authority of the archbishop of Rouen that he yielded at last. As abbot he gave up most of the secular business of the house to such of the brethren as he could trust, and devoted himself to study, meditation, and the instruction of others. If the monastery, however, was involved in any lawsuit of importance, he took care to be present in court, in order to prevent any chicanery being practised by his own party; but if the other side used craft and sophistry, he heeded not, and occupied his time in discussing some passage in the Scriptures or some question of ethics, or calmly went to sleep. Yet if the cunning arguments of his opponents were submitted to his judgment he speedily detected the flaws in them, and tore them to pieces as if he had been wide awake and listening all the time, Vita, i. 37). He was also obliged occasionally to visit the property of the house in various parts of Normandy and Flanders. These journeys brought him into contact with persons of all ranks and conditions, and many gave themselves and their property to the monastery. For himself he never would accept anything as his private possession , Vita, i. 33).

He visited England soon after he became abbot, not only to look after the English possessions of his house, but also to see Lanfranc, now primate. He was received with great respect at Canterbury, and, after making an address to the monks of Christ Church, was admitted as a member of the house. Here began his acquaintance with Eadmer, one of the brotherhood, who became his most devoted friend and biographer. He has recorded the great impression which Anselm made at Canterbury by the wonderful way he discoursed and by his private conversation. His large-heartedness also was displayed on this occasion in his decision of a case which the archbishop submitted to him. Lanfranc told Anselm that he doubted the claim of one of his predecessors, Archbishop Ælfeah, to martyrdom, because, although he had been murdered by the Danes, he did not die in defence of any religious truth. Anselm, however, maintained that since Ælfeah died rather than wring a ransom from his tenants, he had died for righteousness' sake, and that he who died for righteousness would certainly have died for Christ himself who taught it, and therefore he was fully entitled to the honours of martyrdom, Vita, i. 41–44).

The almost feminine tenderness of Anselm's nature appeared in his treatment of the lower animals, which he regarded with respect as the product of God's hand. And, as in the love of animals for their offspring he saw an emblem of the love of God for man, so in any cruelty to animals on the part of man he saw a figure of the devil's malice and his hatred to all God's creatures. Thus, one day seeing a bird teased by a boy who had fastened a string to its leg and let it fly a little way in order to pull it back again, he made him release it, saying that was just the way in which the devil served his victims. So also when a hare ran for shelter under the legs of his horse, and the hunters crowded round with noisy delight at its capture, he burst into tears and forbade them to touch it, saying that it was an apt image of the