VICTORIA UNIVERSITY LIBRARY
TORONTO, ONTARIO
SOURCE:
The Library of
Rev. Salem Goldworth Bland,
B.A., D.tf.
CATHOLIC STANDARD LIBRARY
WORKS OF SAINT BERNARD.
LIFE AND WORKS
OF SAINT BERNARD,
ABBOT OF CLAIRVAUX.
EDITED BY
DOM. JOHN MABILLON,
Presbyter and Monk of the Benedictine Congregation of S. Maur.
Translated and Edited with Additional Notes,
BY
SAMUEL J. BALES, M.A., D.C.L.,
Sometime Principal of S. Boniface College, Warminster,
SECOND EDITION.
VOL. II.
LONDON: BURNS & OATES LIMITED.
NEW YORK, CINCINNATI & CHICAGO: BENZIGER BROTHERS.
BX
V-2
SOUTH COUNTIES PRESS LIMITED.
NOV 20 1950
CONTENTS.
PAGE
I. NOTK ON THE SEAL OF S. BERNARD 457
II. DESCRIPTION OF THE POSITION AND SITE OF
THE ABBEY OF CLAIRVAUX... ... 460
III. LETTERS No. CXLVI. TO No. CLXXXIX. . 468
IV. NOTE TO THE FOLLOWING TREATISE 549
V. LETTERS No. CXC. TO No. CCCLXXX. ... 565
NOTE.
The following list of editions carries on the bibliography
given by Dom. J. Mabillon in his second edition, and adds
some particulars not therein contained.
1. Editions by J. M. Horst were published in 1642
(Paris/is, 5 Tom.) ; in <) vols. (1667 1668); and Coloni.r
Avrippimv (Cologne) 1641, 1672. (The first and last
volumes of this edition are differently dated from the
others.) The Editor was J. C. Schluter; and this was the
last edition founded on Horst.
2. The second edition of Dom. J. Mabillon, which has
ever since been the standard, was issued in 2 vols. folio
(Parisiis, 1690).
A third, tcrtiis cm-is J. Mabillon, also in 2 vols. folio
(Parisiis, 1719): and again in 3 vols. with additions by
Dom. J. Martene (Vcnetiis, 1726).
Lastly, in 1839, was issued in Paris in 6 vols. 4to, by
Gaume Freres, a fourth edition, emend at a ct aucta, of
which precise details are given in Vol. i., pp. 74, 75 ; and
the text of which has been used in this translation.
It is printed with remarkable correctness, a verification
of the references having thus far shown but very few
errors.
Volume ii. contains the great bulk of S. Bernard s
Letters. The remainder, which are short and compara
tively unimportant, will follow at the beginning of Vol. iii.
S. J. E.
NOTE
ON
THE SEAL OF S. BERNARD
WE owe it to the kindness of M. Deville, Director of the
Museum of Antiquities at Rouen, that we are able to
reproduce the following note, with the exact design of S.
Bernard s seal spoken of in this note.
NOTE ON THE SEAL OF S. BERNARD.
Copy of a letter addressed to the Permanent Secretary of
the Academy of Inscriptions.
Rouen, Aug. 16, 1837.
SIR,
A happy circumstance has just put into my hands
the original seal of S. Bernard. The Academy will doubt
less be interested at hearing that the seal of this celebrated
man, who played so important a part in the religious and
political events of his day, still exists ; and 1 may, perhaps,
be allowed to send it some account of this little memorial
of the twelfth century one of the most precious that it
has left us. It is of yellow copper, and of oval form, about
40 millimetres long (about i A- inch), 30 millimetres broad
in its widest part (nearly i{ inch) ; its thickness is about
1 inch, and its weight about an ounce. The figure of S.
Bernard is hollowed out, in monastic costume ; his head is
tonsured and bare, 1 his chin shaven, and he is sitting on a
folding chair, the arms of which terminate in a serpent s
head. The Saint holds in his right hand, which becomes
1 S. Bernard would never use the mitre, which in his time the abbots were
beginning to assume. He strongly withstood the innovation.
VOL. II. 30
458 NOTE ON THE SEAL OF S. BERNARD.
the left in the impression, a very simple staff, with a crook
after the style of the ancient lituus ; and in his left hand,
which is stretched out like the right, an object which the
roughness and minuteness of the work make it difficult to
recognize. I think it to be a church-door divided into two
parts by a column, surmounted by a capital. [Mabillon has
taken this for a book ; the owner of the seal took it for a
sand-glass.] The following inscription is traced on the
margin of the seal round the figure (a cross patee is placed
just above the head of the Saint) : * Sigillum : Bernardi :
Abbatis Claraevall.
With the exception of the g of the word Sigillum, of
the d of Bernardi, and of the e of Clar avail, which are
of the Gothic character, the letters resemble the Roman
uncials, and do not depart otherwise from the characters in
use in the twelfth century.
The absence of the word Saint before Bernard is enough
to prove, if necessary, that this seal is contemporary with
him whose name it bears, and that it really belonged to him,
because we know that S. Bernard, who died in 1153, was
canonized not many years after his death, viz., in 1174, by
Pope Alexander III. If this seal the use of which in that
case would be inexplicable was posterior to the canoniza
tion, they would not have failed to add the significant word
Sanctus ; it could scarcely have been without it.
The only objection, perhaps, to a skilled eye that could
be raised against the authenticity of the seal is that the
style of the design, the costumes and the details, as well as
the shape of the seal, seem to assign it to the latter half,
or almost to the middle of the twelfth century. But S.
Bernard having taken the pastoral staff A.D. 1115, the
question arose why his official seal, which must have been
executed at that time, had not the marks of that time ; for
the difference, after the long study that I had devoted to
these monuments, was most apparent to my eyes. Such was
the question that I had to consider.
On reading again the Letters of S. Bernard I found its
solution. S. Bernard, writing to Pope Eugenius III., A.D.
NOTE ON THE SEAL OF S. BERNARD. 459
1151, tells him that he has been forced to change his seal
because of an abuse of confidence, and that he had had a
second engraved, on which were traced his figure and name
(ep. 284). It is this second seal which is in my possession.
The effigy and name of S. Bernard are engraved on it : its
shape and execution correspond exactly with the style of
the time when S. Bernard informs us that he had had it
made ; it has in every way all the marks of genuineness
that can be wished for.
It only remains for me now to inform the Academy of the
way in which I became possessed of this inestimable piece
of antiquity. I owe it to the generosity of a retired officer,
M. Pays, of Issoudun, who wrote to me a few days ago, on
sending it: " This seal was bought of a second-hand sales
man, who became possessed in 1790 of the old copper
articles of the Collegiate Church of S. Cyr, of Issoudun,
which was affiliated to Clairvaux. How it came there I do
not know." Subjoined is an impression of the seal, which
I beg you to bring under the notice of the Academy. I
forgot to say that the reverse is flat and of one piece, and
with no mark of handle or hook. It is evident that the
.seal was pressed on the wax by the finger only.
Receive, etc.,
DEVILLE.
COPY OF AN IMPRESSION OF S. BERNARD S SEAL.
460 DESCRIPTION OF THE POSITION AND SITE
DESCRIPTION OF THE POSITION AND
SITE OF THE ABBEY OF CLAIRVAUX.
If you wish to know the site of Clairvaux, these lines will
describe it for you as if in a mirror. The abbey is built at
the foot of two mountains, which are separated from each
other by a narrow valley, and leave between them a distance
which widens as they descend from the side of the abbey.
One of these mountains has its side occupied by one half
of the abbey, and the other half is on the corresponding
side of the other. The one mountain is fertile with vine
yards, the other with corn ; and each of them offers to the
eye a beautiful sight, and supplies a needful support for
the inmates. So that whilst on one of the ridges rises the
corn upon which the brethren live, on the other is grown
the wine which they drink. The top of the mountain is
the scene of numerous labours of the monks ; works as
pleasant as they are peaceable to collect dry branches,,
and gather them in bundles to burn them ; to grub up the
brushwood which disfigures the ground, and to prepare it
for the fire, for which alone it is fit ; to uproot the brambles
and destroy them ; to dig the soil ; to scatter (as I may say
after Solomon) the " bastard slips" 2 which choke the roots
or entangle the boughs of the rising trees, so that there
may be no impediment to the sturdy oak which salutes the
heavens with its lofty top, to the graceful lime-tree which
spreads its arms, to the ash-tree whose wood is so elastic
and easily split, or to the leafy beech, as the one shoots
upwards and the other spreads its lateral shade.
Behind the house extends a broad plain, of which a wall
shuts in no small part, and encloses the abbey with an
extended boundary. Within this enclosure the trees are
2 Spuria vitulamina, the VULGATE version of Wisd. v. 3. The Greek word
(*6a\trp.a is rare; and as jurftrxos has the double meaning of "a shoot" and
" a calf, the fact no doubt led to the rendering, which is clearly incorrect, and
is noticed by S. Augustine (De Doctr. Christ, ii. 12). [E.]
OK THE ABBKY OF CLAIRVAUX. 461
numerous and varied, fertile in fruit of various kinds, and
form an orchard like a forest. Beside it rise the cells of
the sick, and the neighbourhood of the trees is no slight
alleviation of the infirmities of the brethren, to whom the
orchard offers a vast space for walking, and gives a pleasant
shade against the heat of the sun. The sick are wont to
sit upon the green turf, and when the excessive heats of
the dog-days burn the earth and dry up the rivers they sit
sheltered under the trees, and defended from the heat of
their shadow. Under their leafy screen the sun s rays are
softened, and their sufferings are soothed as they breathe
the air fragrant with the scent of hay. The pleasant green
of the trees and of the turf rests their eyes, and the fruit
which hangs before them promises them delight when
ripened. They might say with reason : / have sat under
the shade of t/ie tree which I desired, and its fruit was
sweet to my taste (Cant. ii. 3). Their ears are agreeably
occupied by the sweet and harmonious concerts of birds of
varied plumage. See how, in order to cure one sickness,
the goodness of God multiplies remedies, causes the clear
air to shine in serenity, the earth to breathe forth fruitful-
ness, and the sick man himself to inhale through eyes,
and ears, and nostrils the delights of colours, of songs, and
of odours. Where the orchard ceases begins the garden,
through which run little channels of water, or rather little
streams separate and divide it into squares. For although
the water appears to be still, yet it has a steady current,
though slow. Here, too, is a pleasing sight afforded to the
eyes of the sick brethren when they go to sit on the verdant
bank of a pool filled with pure and running water, where
they can watch the sports of the little fish in water clear as
crystal, which swim to and fro in shoals like marching
armies. The water of these pools serves at the same time
for nourishing the fish and for watering the vegetables in
the garden ; it is introduced by a constant current derived
from the Aube, a river well known. This stream passes
and repasses the many workshops of the abbey, and every
where leaves a blessing behind it for its faithful service.
462 DESCRIPTION OF THE POSITION AND SITE
The river climbs to this height by works laboriously con
structed, and passes nowhere without rendering some
service, or leaving some of its water behind. It divides the
valley into two by a sinuous bed, which the labour of the
brethren, and not Nature, has made, and goes on to throw
half of its waters into the abbey, as if to salute the brethren,
and seems to excuse itself for not coming in its whole force,,
the canal which receives it being too small for it. If some
times the stream, swollen by an inundation, rushes on with
violent current, it is stopped by a wall, under which it is
obliged to pass, and so turned back upon itself, meets and
checks the descending stream. As much, however, as the
wall, like a faithful porter, allows to enter passes on at once
to drive the wheels of a mill ; there, lashed into foam by
their motion, it grinds the meal under the weight of the
mill-stones, and separates the fine from the coarse by a
sieve of fine tissue.
A little farther on, in the next building, it fills a boiler,
and is heated for brewing, that drink may be prepared for
the brethren, if it should happen that the vintage should not
respond kindly to the labour of the vine-dresser; so that, in
default of the juice of the vine, the want maybe supplied by
the extract of grain. But not even yet is its usefulness com
pleted, for the fullers call it to their aid who labour beside
the mill ; sound reason requiring that, as in the mill, care is
taken for the food of the brethren, so by these their clothing
should be prepared. But the river does not hesitate nor
refuse any who require its aid ; and you may see it causing
to rise and fall alternately the heavy pestles, that is to say,
hammers, or wooden foot-shaped blocks (for that name
seems to agree better with the treading- work, as it were, of
the fullers), and so relieves them of the heaviest part of
their labour. And if it is permitted to them to mix jokes
with serious work, it relieves the sadness of their sins. O
God, how many consolations Thou givest to Thy poor, so
that they may not be entirely weighed down by the extreme
stress of their labour ! What alleviations of punishment to
the penitent, that they may not be altogether absorbed by
OK THE AHHEV OF CLAIRVAUX. 463
How many horses would this labour
tire ! of how many men would it weary the arms ! And
the kindly stream relieves us from it altogether, although
without it we should have neither food to eat, nor raiment
prepared to put on. It shares with us our fatigues, and for
all the labour which it undertakes the whole day long it ex
pects no other recompense than that when it has completed
diligently all its tasks it may be permitted to go free upon
its way. Thus, after having made to revolve in its quick
movement so many wheels, rapid as itself, it emerges
foaming, you would say that it is, so to speak, mealy, and
that it has been made softer.
From thence it passes into the workshop of the curriers,
where it contributes its laborious assistance to the prepara
tion of the sandals which are needful for the use of the
Brothers. Coming from there, it is divided into numerous
threads of water, and thus distributed ; it penetrates all the
workshops, and lends itself to everyone s need, every
where looking for assistance that it may be able to render.
Thus it helps to cook the food, to sift the grain, to drive
wheels and pestles, to damp, wash, and soak, and so to
soften, objects ; everywhere it stands ready to offer its
help. Lastly, in order that I may not omit any thanks due
to it, nor leave the catalogue of its services in any way
imperfect, it carries away all dirt and uncleanness, and
leaves all things clean behind it. Then, after having
accomplished industriously the purpose for which it came,
it returns with rapid current to the stream, and renders to
it in the name of Clairvaux, thanks for all the services
which it has performed, and replies to its salutation with
worthy response. Immediately it receives into its bosom
the waters that it had lent to us, and the two streams
become only one ; they are so perfectly mixed that you can
find no trace of their union ; only on re-entering into its
bed, it hastens the course of the stream, which had been
delayed, diminished, and rendered less active in its course,
by the withdrawal of part of its waters.
But since we have restored it to its place, let us return
464 DESCRIPTION OF THE POSITION AND SITE
to the little streams which we have left behind us. They
are drawn from the river, and wander in careless curves
through the meadows, to penetrate into the earth and
refresh it, so that it may bring forth seed for fear that at
the return of spring, when the fruitful earth opens to let
the new growth appear, the infant plants should be dried
up for want of water ; nor have they any need of the drops
from the clouds because sufficiently fed by the bounty of the
neighbouring river. These little streams, or rather water
courses, after they have fulfilled their office, are absorbed
in the stream which had given them out, and the Aube
having regained all its waters, resumes its rapid course
down the valley. But as we have accompanied it so far,
and it, following the word of Solomon, returns to its place,
(Eccles. i. 7), let us too return to the point from whence
we started, and traverse with rapid description the vast
plain of meadows.
That spot has much charm, it greatly soothes weary
minds, relieves anxieties and cares, helps souls who seek
the Lord greatly to devotion, and recalls to them the
thought of the heavenly sweetness towards which they
aspire. The smiling countenance of the earth is painted
with varying colours, the blooming verdure of spring
satisfies the eyes, and its sweet odour salutes the nostrils.
But while I view the flowers, while I breathe their sweet
scent, the meadows recall to me the histories of ancient
times; for while I drink in the sweetness of the flowers, the
thought occurs to my mind of the fragrance of the clothing
of the Patriarch Jacob, which the Scripture compares to
the odour which mounts from a fruitful field. When I
delight my eyes with the bright colours of the flowers, I
am reminded that this beauty is far above that of the purple
robe of Solomon, who in all his glory, could not equal the
beauty of the lilies of the field, although to him there was
wanting neither richness of material, nor wisdom and taste
in arrangement. In this way, while I am charmed without
by the sweet influence of the beauty of the country, I have
not less delight within in reflecting on the mysteries which
OK THI-: ABBEY OF CLAIRVAUX. 465
are hidden beneath it. This, meadow, then is irrigated by
the little stream which flows through it, and sends its
moisture to the roots of its vegetation, so that they will not
fear the heats of summer when it shall come. It is ex
tended so far that at the time when the covering of the
greensward falls under the scythe, and is dried to make
hay, the gathering-in of it is a heavy task for the whole-
force of the Abbey during twice ten days. Yet that labour
is not left wholly to the monks, but with them an un
numbered multitude of lay brothers, brothers lent from
other Houses, and a crowd of hired labourers, collect the
hay when dried, and clear the shorn soil with rakes.
This meadow is shared between two farms, which the
Aube divides equally and fairly, in order to avoid dispute,
assigning to each its domain, of which it forms the boundary
on either side, so that the one may not cross to encroach
upon the land of the other. You would not suppose that
these farm-houses only serve for the dwelling-place of lay-
brothers; you would take them for cloisters of monks, if the
yokes of oxen, ploughs, and other instruments iitted for
the labours of countrymen did not make manifest the kind
of inhabitants whom the houses shelter, and if you did not
remark that no books are lying open among them. For as
relates to the buildings, you would say that it was suitable
for a great convent of monks, both by sight, size, and
beauty.
In the part of the meadow which is near to the wall, a
pool of water has been made out of the solid plain ; there,
where previously the labourer, pouring with sweat, was
cutting the hay with his sharp scythe, there the brother
fisherman, borne in a light skiff, as it were upon a wooden
horse, scours the watery plain ; for spurs he has a light oar
with which he urges his boat to speed and turns its course
where he will. He unfolds his net under the waves, in
which the iishy tribe are entangled, to prepare for him a
prey which he loves to see placed upon the table ; or he
uses the secret hook, with which the imprudent fish is
taken. By the example of which we may be taught to
466 DESCRIPTION OF THE POSITION AND SITE
despise pleasures, because pleasure is bought with pain,
and is injurious, nor can anyone be ignorant of the sad
fate of those who yield to it, except those who either have
not sinned, or, having sinned, have not the benefit of
repentance. May God keep far from us the pleasure, at
the entrance to which Death is placed ; according to the
description of a wise man, " like bees in their flight, who
seek a drop of honey, and are pierced through with a
dart " (Boethius). The banks of the lake are strengthened
by a high palisade woven of flexible osiers, so that the
earth may not crumble away by the percolation of the
water. This lake is fed by the river which flows by, at a
distance of scarcely thirty-six feet, from which the water is
let through narrow passages into the lake which it feeds.
Overflow pipes lead back from it, and keep the water
always at the same level.
But while I am carried on in this description of the
meadows, while I breathlessly mount the steep slopes, or
traverse the brightly-coloured surface of the meadow,
painted by the hand of Wisdom, or describe the ridges of
the mountains clothed with trees, I am accused of ingrati
tude by that sweet fountain of whose waters I have so often
drunk, which has merited so well of me, and which I have-
repaid so ill. It reminds me in a tone of reproach that it
has often quenched my thirst, that it has given me water to
wash my hands and even my feet, that it has rendered to
me many such offices of kindness and benevolence. It says
to me that all these good offices I have repaid with ingrati
tude ; that it has been the last mentioned of all the places I
have described, and indeed that it scarcely found a place at
all ; whereas for the respect I owe to it, it should have been
placed first. And, indeed, I am unable to deny that I
remembered it too late ; and that I should have thought
of it earlier. But does it not roll its waters silently through
subterranean channels, so that not even the lightest murmur
marks its passage, like the waters of Siloah which roll in
silence, as if fearing to be betrayed, and hide themselves
from all eyes ? Why should I not have supposed that it
OF THK ABBEY OF CLAIRVAUX. 46?
wished for secrecy, when I see that it does not wish to be
beheld except under a roof ? This fountain, then (which
is said to be an indication of a good fountain), has its
source opposite to the rising sun, so that at the time of the
spring solstice it salutes the ruddy face of the scintillating
aurora. A hut of turf, or, to speak more respectfully of it,
a pavilion small and pretty, covers and protects it, that
nothing unclean may fall into it on any side. But the placr
where the mountain permits it to issue forth is also the
place where the valley engulfs it ; where it is born, it also
as it were dies, and is buried. But do not expect a sign like
that of Jonas the prophet, that it should lie hidden three
days and three nights in the soil ; it seems to be raised
up almost immediately from the heart of the earth, and
reappears at a thousand feet distance, within the enclosure
of the monastery. It might be said that it returns to life
where it appears, offering itself to charm the sight and
supply the wants of the brethren, as if it were not willing
to have communication with any others than saints.
468 LETTER CXLVI.
LETTER CXLVI.
TO BURCHARD, ABBOT OF BALERNE. 1
Bernard rejoices that his efforts to train Burchard to
the Religious life have not been in vain; the happy issue is
to be attributed to God alone.
1. Your style has been filled with fire and power, and with
that fire, too, which the Lord has sent on the earth. I read
your letter, and my heart burned within me ; I blessed that
furnace from whence such sparks had flown forth. Did
not your heart burn within you as you dictated such words ?
A good man out of the good treasure of his heart bringeth
forth good things. If I laboured for you, as you humbly
say, I rejoice at it. I ploughed, in hope, no doubt, of re
ceiving fruit, and my hope has not deceived me. Lo, with
the fruit of my works my heart is satisfied in a strange
land ; and I see by experience that my seed has not fallen
by the wayside, nor on stony ground, nor amongst thorns,
but into a good and fertile soil. And if I had sorrow when
I brought them forth, yet now I remember no more the
travail, for joy that a child has been born into the world.
A child, I mean, in malice, not in understanding; one whom
the Saviour could set forward for an example to the old,
saying, Except ye be converted and become as little children,
ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven (S. Matt,
xviii. 3) ; such a child as can say, / am wiser than the
aged, because I have sought Thy commandments (Ps. cxix.
100) ; and, / am small and despised, yet do I not forget
Thy precepts (Ps. cxix. 141).
2. I thank Thee, O Father, Lord of Heaven and earth,
because Thou hast hid these things from the wise and
prudent, and hast revealed them unto babes ; even so,
Father, for so it seemed good in Thy sight. By Thy will,
not by their merits are they what they are. For Thou dost
Balerne was of the Cistercian order, in the Diocese of Btsan^on, and was
founded A.D. 1 136. Its first Abbot was Burchard ; the judgment passed on him
may be seen in the Life of S. Bernard, at the end of lib. i.
LETTER CXLVII. 469
not come to find, but goest before to give merit. We all
have sinned, and need to be prevented by grace. Do thou,
then, my brother, acknowledge that thou hast been pre
vented, and prevented with the blessings of goodness, not
by me, who am nothing, but by Him who, by His holy
inspiration, prevented me, and so caused me to warn thee
to save thyself. For. to attribute a great deal to myself, I
planted, I watered ; but without Him who giveth the in
crease, what am I ? To Him in all humility submit thyself,
to Him with utmost devotion cling. Use me as His ser
vant, thy fellow servant, thy companion in the way, thy
future co-heir in our country, that is to say, if I shall have
faithfully fulfilled the ministry to which I was sent on your
behalf, and if I shall have done what I could to enable you
to lay hold of the inheritance of salvation. This is my
answer to your complaint. I will occupy myself with your
necessities as my own when I come.
LETTER CXLVII. (A.D. i [38.)
To PETER, ABBOT OF CiAJNY. 1
Peter had consoled Bernard, who was engaged abroad in
several difficult labours for the Church, by sending him
Gebuin, Archdeacon of Troyes. He gratefully acknow-
1 This reply of Bernard s is wanting in not a few copies, and in the first
editions was placed after ep. 307. But this ep. 147 is an answer to two of
Peter s, one of which is ep. 29 in lib. ii. ; the other, ep. 37, is here subjoined,
that it may be seen how closely these two holy souls clung to each other ; </.
also notes to ep. 228. The epistle is as follows :
"To my venerable and dearly beloved lord, BERNARD, Abbot of Clairvaux, his
brother PETER, humble Abbot of the Cluniacs, sends greeting, desiring that he
may be always strong in the Lord.
" How great are the reverence and the love that my inmost soul feels for you,
He knows whom in you I venerate and love. I still felt all this even when He
hid from me your bodily presence ; because rumour, that travels faster than the
body can, brought before my mind s eye the form of your blessed soul. But
when I at length attained what had been so long time denied me, and when
the images of dreams disappeared before the light of truth, my soul clung to
yours and refused to be again separated from your love. So did your love
claim me wholly thenceforth, so did your virtues and the beauty of your
character seize me, that nothing of my own was left me which was net yours,
470 LETTER CXLVII.
ledges this kindness, and predicts a happier state for the
Church by the extinction of the then existing schism.
To dom PETER, the very Reverend Father, Abbot of
Cluny, his friend BERNARD wishes health, and all that he
could desire for his friend.
i. May the Dayspring from on high visit you, my
excellent friend, for you have visited me in a strange land,
and consoled me in the place of my pilgrimage. You have
done well to think upon the poor and needy. I was absent,
and absent too for a long time, and you, a great man, full of
important matters, yet forgot not my name. Blessed be
thy holy angel, who put loving thought for me into thy
heart : blessed be our God who moved thee. Lo, I hold
in my hand your letter, of which I may make my boast
among strangers, and in which you have poured out your
full heart to me. I rejoice that you hold me in favour as
well as in memory. I rejoice in the privilege of your love,
I am refreshed out of the abundant sweetness of your heart.
nothing of yours was suffered to remain with you which was not also mine.
From that time there abode in me (and may the cause of Christ to which
you have set your hand so abide in you) that brotherly love, which alone, be
cause it can never perish, has preserved its nature perfectly so far as I am con
cerned. And since I have stored this up in my bosom, and hold it dearer than
all the gold in the world, more precious than all jewels, I wonder that for so long
a time I have not received from you, such tokens as I could wish for, of the love
that you keep for me. I am thankful, indeed, that by the chance salutations
you occasionally send, you show that you have not wholly forgotten your
friend. But I complain that you have not given me yet surer proofs by letter^
I say surer, because the paper cannot alter what has been written on it,
while the tongue of the speaker can too often change by addition or subtraction,
the truth that has been uttered. Hence, because as a chosen warrior, prepared
for the day of battle, because of the dangers that threaten the Church of God,
you fight with the arms of righteousness on the right hand and the left, 1
securely commend to your friendship the messengers whom I am sending to my
lord the Pope ; being assured that one who assists strangers in their cause will
not be wanting to his friends in their need. That my complaint may be set at
rest, send me word by letters and not by word of mouth only, how you are,
how my lord, the Pope, is situated, and about his return. Would that you
were set free from an exacting Curia and I from a perilous charge, 1 as I have
always longed for, so that one place never to be changed might hold us both,
one charity unite us, one Christ receive us ! "
1 Cur a .
LETTER CXLVII. 471
And not only so, but I glory in tribulations also, if I have
been counted worthy to endure any for the sake of the
Church. This, truly, is my glory and the lifting up of my
head the Church s triumph. For if we have been sharers of
her trouble, we shall be also of her consolation. We must
work and suffer with our mother, lest she complain of us,
saying, My kinsmen stand afar off : they also that seek
after my life lay snares for me (Ps. xxxviii. 1 1, 12).
2. But thanks be to God who hath given her the victory,
has crowned her labours, and glorified her in them. Our
sadness has been turned into rejoicing, our mourning into
gladness. The winter is passed, the rain is over and gone ;
the flowers appear on the earth, the time of pruning is here,
the useless branch, the rotten member has been cut off.
The wicked man who made Israel to sin, he has been
swallowed up by death, 1 and given over to the pit of hell.
In the words of the Prophet, he had entered into a covenant
with death, and made an agreement with hell (Is. xxviii. 18),
and therefore, as Ezekiel says, Destruction has come to him
and he shall be no more for ever (Ezek. xxviii. 19). Another
enemy, too, the greatest of all and the worst of all, has none
the less been cut off. 2 And he was one of the friends of
the Church, of whom she is wont to complain, saying: My
lovers and my neighbours did stand looking upon my trouble,
and my kinsmen stood afar off (Ps. xxxviii. n). If any
remain I hope for speedy judgment against them. I shall
soon be returning to my brethren, if God preserves my life,
and I shall hope to pay you a visit in passing. Meanwhile
I commend myself to your holy prayers. I salute brother
Hugh, the Chamberlain, and all who are with you, with the
rest of your sacred congregation.
1 The Antipope Anacletus died A.D. 1138. The manner of his death is
described by Ernald (Life of S. Bernard, lib. ii. c. 7). Ordericus (p. 915) says
that his death was sudden. Victor was chosen in his place by the rivals of
Innocent.
2 This seems to be Gerard, Bishop of Angouleme, who died A.U. 1136
(ep. 126 notes). Ordericus, speaking of his death (p. 908), calls him a most
learned man, " and of great reputation and authority in the Roman Senate in
the times of Popes Paschal, Gelasius, Calixtus, and Honorius."
472 LETTER CXLVIII.
LETTER CXLVIII. (A.D. 1138.)
To THE SAME.
He replies to Peter only in a few words, proposing to
write at greater length later.
To dom PETER, Abbot of Cluny, BERNARD sends
humble and respectful salutations.
When I had read your letter I was made joyful that one
so great as you should trouble to prevent one so insignificant
as I with the blessings of goodness. But when shall we
have an opportunity of seeing each other, and of conversing
with each other ? When will there be convenient place, or
fitting occasion ? Meanwhile I send a few words in reply to
your short letter, and will gladly send more, when I know that
they will not be burdensome to you. Else how could my
littleness dare to write at all, were it not that you in your
humility stoop to give me access to your exalted dignity ?
LETTER CXLIX. (A.D. 1138.)
To THE SAME.
Bernard advises him not to press on so eagerly the affair
of the Abbey of Saint Bert in.
I think that you are well aware how unwilling I am ever
to do anything which may be hostile to your Reverence.
And having this confidence I do not hesitate to make sug
gestions to you when necessary. With respect to the
monastery of S. Bertin 1 I could wish you to act less eagerly
1 The monastery .of S. Bertin at S. Omer, otherwise Sittich, after having
come to great want, was handed over by Abbot Lambert to Hugh, Abbot of
Cluny, A.D. 1101, and then it became so prosperous in point of wealth, piety,
and the number of its monks, that where twelve monks could before hardly live
the number increased to 150, and from them many monasteries of Belgium and
France received the regular discipline, as Hermann, the monk, says (Spicit.
Vol. xii. p. 443), with whom Iperius agrees. On the death of Hugh, Abbot of
Cluny, the monks of Sittich shook off the yoke and entered into a suit with
LETTER CL. 473
than you have done. For even if you could bring it to
submit to you in peace and without any contention, I do
not see how you would gain even then. For I should not
suppose that you would find any pleasure in honour accom
panied by such responsibilities. But now that you cannot
obtain the submission of this monastery without great
labour, nor hold it, they say, peacefully, you have a good
excuse afforded you for retiring gracefully from the
attempt, in the fear of causing trouble and strife.
LETTER CL. (A.I). 1133.)
To POPE INNOCENT.
He praises the Pope for various acts of authority ; and
then urges him to oppose strongly the ambition of Philip,
who was endeavouring to obtain the Archbishopric of Tours
by illegitimate means.
i . May the members share in the health of the head ! May
the anointing oil which descended to the beard from the
head also run down to the utmost skirts of the clothing !
If when the shepherd is smitten the sheep are scattered,
may they return to their pasture without fear when he is
strong and well ! What I mean is this : Many a report of
your frequent glorious successes is making glad the city of
God. It is, therefore, but fitting that your prosperity should
be the strengthening of the Church ; and that, when God
exalts him that He has chosen out of His people, she also
may see herself exalted, and feel the stronger by an increase
of vigour. For if she have suffered with him, she ought
also to reign with him. That is at once worthy of you and
necessary for us. What is it then ? If in times of fear and
their abbot without the knowledge of the Cluniacs. The quarrel was so kept
up that at the instance of Peter the Venerable Innocent II. deposed two abbots,
John and Simon ; but at length Peter was persuaded by Bernard to yield his
rights and give the monks of S. Berlin their independence. Cf. Apulog. (notes
Vol.ii.).
VOL. II. 31
474 LETTER CL.
distress the arm of justice was not shortened, nor the zeal
for equity cooled, are we to give way now that we are
nearing the goal ? Shall the virtue which shone brightly in
weakness succumb in power ?
2. To come to the point, with how strong a hand has the
famous monastery of Vezelay 1 been set in order? The
Apostolic majesty thought that it ought not to give way,
no, not for a moment, either to the insane outbreaks of an
armed populace, or to the unbridled madness of mutinous
and wrathful monks, or to what was more powerful than all
the forces of mammon. What shall I say of S. Benedict? 2
Was the indignation of a king able to repress the spirit of
liberty kindled and girded to battle against flesh and blood ?
1 Vezelay, in the Diocese of Autun, was founded by Gerard, Count of Nevers,
and Bertha, his wife, about the year 821, for nuns, who were afterwards replaced
by monks, and they by regular canons, A.D. 1537. A reformation of this
monastery was first instituted at the instance of Henry, Duke of Burgundy, by
William, a follower of S. Mayeul, Abbot of Cluny. Then, again, Hugh,
another Abbot of Cluny, restored its waning discipline. From this it came to
pass that Paschal II. had it placed entirely, A.D. 1 103, under the Abbot of Cluny.
Cf. Duchesne (notes, ad Biblioth. Cluni}. But the monks of Vezelay, attempting
to throw off the yoke gradually, were again compelled by Innocent II. to submit.
The historian of Vezelay thus speaks of this: "Although the monks of Vezelay
had for nearly three hundred years from the first foundation of their house quietly
and without opposition enjoyed the liberty of choosing for their head one of their
own number, or a brother from some other monastery, yet the Cluniacs, a much
later foundation, endeavoured to surreptitiously gain a supremacy over them by
first claiming an assenting voice, then the right of election, falsely asserting
that the charge of the Order of the Abbey of Vezelay had been given them by
Paschal II. From the same cause a grievous scandal arose under Innocent II.
on their reclaiming their natural liberty ; but a certain Alberic was thrust upon
them by the Cluniacs, who were supported by force by Innocent and the Count of
Nevers, and all the brethren nearly of the monastery were thrown into fetters."
2 This was S. Benedict s on the Po, which had been dealt with by Popes
Gregory VII. and Calixtus II. as Vezelay had been, that is to say, it was for
bidden to choose its Abbot without the counsel, provision, and precept of the
Abbot of Cluny, and the man of their choice was prohibited from seeking
episcopal benediction without the Abbot s commendatory Letters. But, when the
monks began to act differently, Innocent, at the instance of Peter the Venerable,
gave order by Letter (Bull. Cltment. iii., A.D. 1 187, Biliioth. Cluni, col. 2452),
that Abbot William, having been elected and admitted without the consent of
the Cluniacs, should appear before them and pay them due obedience and
reverence.
LETTER CL. 475
So in a wonderful way were the churches of S. Memmius 1
and S. Satyrus 2 transformed, from being synagogues of
Satan to become again sanctuaries of God, whether the
workers of wickedness would or no. Nor at Liege was the
threatening and savage sword of a passionate and angry
king able to enforce acquiescence in his urgent and wicked
demands. 5 Who can sufficiently praise the bolt that was
hurled, even though it was from a distance, against the dis-
1 S. Memmius was sprung from the once famous family of Memmii at Rome,
was sent by S. Peter into Gaul, and became first Bishop of Chalons. A famous
C hurch of Canons was founded in his honour in the same city, which afterwards,
by the command of Innocent II., took the rule of the Regular Canons of S.
Augustine.
- Matilda, wife of Godfrey de Bouillon (or Boulogne, on the English Channel,
according to William of Tyre, lib. ix. c. 5), and first King of Jerusalem,
sought and obtained from Pope Paschal the body of S. Satyrus, whose memory
is kept on March 7th, and erected for it at Bourges a collegiate house of secular
Canons. But so easily do we deteriorate, that within a few years they had
degenerated intoworldliness and licence, and were expelled by the order of Innocent
,md replaced by Augustinian Canons, as the Memorials Historiarum says:
" In the year 1138 there nourished the Order of Canons of S. Victor of Paris,
whose name was famous throughout the world for the high character and
great learning of its members, whom it sent forth into various Churches
throughout the world, as a fruitful vine gives forth its branches to be transplan
ted. For at this time there were two professed Canons made prelates of the
Roman Church; the Cardinals, Hugh, Bishop of Tusculum, and Master Ivo, as
well as nine Abbots. In the Church of S. Satyrus, at Bourges, Abbot Ralph,
etc. The Necrology of S. Victor, of Paris, adds to this, on the 5th of February,
the name of " Dom Andrew, Abbot ot S. Satyrus, and Canon of our Order."
Stephen, Abbot of S. Genevieve, at Paris, and afterwards Bishop of Tournay,
commends in a Letter to Pope Lucius III. the grave and regular discipline of this
monastery. Add to this that in a terrier of the episcopal estates and the benefices
of France this Abbey is said to be under the rule of S. Augustine.
3 We must, it seems, understand this of the right o investiture claimed by
J.othaire, and resisted by Innocent. Abbot Conrad of Ursperg says that " at this
very time the Pope went to Lothaire to seek his help against Peter and his sup
porters." Doubtless the Emperor thought this too good an opportunity to be lost,
and proceeded to demand from the Pope a restoration of the right of investiture,
which had been held for so long by his predecessors. The Pope accordingly was
not a little perplexed, and sorry that he had ever come, and anxious, too, that he
might depart. For he was unable to grant the request of the Emperor in a
matter in which the Church had before suffered so many troubles. However.
by the intervention of S. Bernard, he was able to leave the Emperor in safety
Otto of Frisingen gives a more favourable account of the transaction (lib.
vii. c. 18).
476 LETTER CL.
turbers of the church of Orleans, 1 by the same powerful
hand in the last few days ? Truly the bow of Jonathan
turned not back, nor his sword returned empty. Neverthe
less, by this word the king indeed was disturbed, but not
all Jerusalem with him. He himself at last allowed his
anger to cool. He was, indeed, fearful and scrupulous of
taking up arms against the Lord, and against His Anointed.
Your majesty has been exalted above the heavens, but only
in order that so good a beginning may be adorned with a
fitting ending. This, indeed, is what all who love you are
eagerly looking for, and they are demanding its speedy
arrival.
3. With equal zeal, and with as powerful an arm, it is
necessary for help to be immediately lent to the Church of
Tours. Otherwise she is even now on the point to perish,
unless you speedily help her. The spirit of Gislebert 2 lives
1 Who these were we learn from Letters used by D Achery (Spicil. Vol.
iii., p. 153)- First, from a Letter of Archembald, Subdean of the Church of
Orleans, to Henry, Archbishop of Sens, we gather that the instigator of this
trouble was a certain John of Orleans, who afterwards ordered Archembald to
be put to death (ep. 161), and who had been intruded into the office of Arch
deacon. When Archembald and other clerks opposed him, they suffered grievous
injuries, and the loss of nearly all their goods at the hands of him and his sup-
portLrs, Bartholomew Capicer, Zacharias Paganus, the Archdeacon, James, Sub-
deacon of S. Anianus, and others. Hence, at the end of the Letter he asks th it
" full justice may be done him against the malefactors." Archbishop Henry,
to whom they had fled for help, owing to the See of Orleans being vacant, was
asked " to give order that the Church which had been defiled with bloodshed
and sacrilege, should put an end to such things, or suffer interdict, and not to
delay to avenge these men s misdeeds, which affected even his Lordship the
Pope." There is extant also another Letter of the same tenor sent by Geoffrey,
Bishop of Chartres, to the same Henry. It may be that this intruder John
was maintaining his position by the support of the King. At length, however,
Pope Innocent entrusted the charge of this matter to the above-named Geoffrey
of Chartres. acting as his legate, and thus compelled the guilty to make
satisfaction.
2 Gislebert or Gilbert, the predecessor of Hildebert, who was translated, A.D.
i 125, from the See of Le Mans to that of Tours, which he held for six years
and six months (cf. note to ep. 122). On his death, Philip, nephew of Gislebert,
by his evil attempts on the See, in which he was supported by Anacletus, gave
occasion for the writing of this Letter and of the next, which, however, was the
first written. Philip being compelled to retire, Hugh was canonically elected
(cf. Analect), Vol. iii. p. 338).
LETTER CL. 477
again, they say, in Philip, who is at once his nephew
according to the flesh, and the heir of his ambition. With
what a lust for power this youth burns is shown by the
protracted and cruel tortures inflicted on his mother church,
by which the unhappy man has almost disembowelled her,
in order that he may be brought forth to honour. How
ever, by the will of God an end has at last been put to his
misdoings, that is to say, if only what has been done
against him, as justice dictated, and his wickedness com
pelled, and peace called for, be ratified by Apostolic
authority. But God forbid that the benign majesty of the
Holy See should confound its faithful servants, to whom
the settling of this matter was graciously entrusted. God
forbid it that cruel ambition should find a supporter in the
defender of innocence. This is what his audacity is bidding
him try for, this is what he madly hopes to find. Once and
again has the despiser of the Apostolic decree eluded the
stroke of justice ; and does he now again, with still more
impudent rashness, venture none the less to present himself
before the face of your equity? Is there any one who
cannot see the impiety of the attempt of this man, who
places no confidence whatever in righteousness, to attack
the tower of strength with the forces of mammon ? But
we are safe ; it is Innocent who is to be tempted, and the
son of iniquity shall not come nigh to hurt him.
4. As to the rest, most sweet Father, while we sigh for
your presence, we talk to each other of the memory of your
abundant kindness ; the one consoles us for the want of
the other. This is never absent from our hearts ; it is
often in our mouths, it is salt to every speech, it soothes
the ear, sweetens the mouth, refreshes and enkindles our
hearts. It is foremost at the meetings of the saints, it is
their chief topic of conversation ; it lends wings to their
petitions, and nerves them to prayer. And now I pray
earnestly for you and yours that the Eternal One, for Whom
and on behalf of Whom you labour in time, may count you
worthy of eternal memory. Amen.
47$ LETTER CLI.
LETTER CLI. (A.D. 1133.)
To PHILIP, THE INTRUDED ARCHBISHOP OF TOURS. l
He expresses the great grief he felt that Philip should
attempt to gain the Archbishopric of Tours by illegitimate-
means.
I am grieved for you, my dear Philip, but I beseech you
mock not at my grief. For if by any chance you think that
there is no cause for grief, then you are the more to be
grieved for. Whatever you may think about yourself, for
my part I think that a fount of tears is insufficient to lament
for you. My grief is not one that calls for ridicule, but for
compassion ; for it is not a grief for flesh and blood, not for
the loss of things that perish, but for you yourself, Philip.
I cannot better describe the greatness of my grief than by
saying that Philip is the cause of it. And when I say this,
I declare the great lamentation of the Church, who once
cherished you in her bosom, as a lily springing up, adorned
with every celestial gift. Who, then, was there that did
1 " On the death of Hildebert, Bishop of Tours, A.U. 1 137, the Canons of that
Church were expelled by violence by Count Geoffrey. Then when they were to
elect another Bishop they were divided into two parts. For some of them,
contrary to the decrees of the sacred canons, elected a certain Philip, nephew of
the ambitious predecessor of Hildebert in the same See, who was called Gilbeit.
This was opposed by others. Philip immediately hurried away to the pseudo-
pope Anacletus for confirmation and consecration, and then returned to Tours.
Meanwhile Hugh, a wise and noble man, was canonically elected by the wiser
part of the same clergy, and was consecrated in Le Mans by Guy and his
comprovincials. When Philip heard of this he fled secretly, carrying off with
him the ornaments of the Church." The above is taken from the Acts of the
Bishops of Le Mans given in the third volume of the Analccla. While all this
was going on, Bernard, who was then staying at Viterbo, wrote this Letter to
Philip. Then he, having become more reckless, harassed the Church of Tours
by his ambition, on the death of Anacletus, and the Saint wrote in the following
year, 1138, the preceding Letter to Pope Innocent against him. But under
Archbishop Hugh, who at length silenced Philip, that happened which Innocent
III. speaks of (lib. iii. ep. 79) : " The party of D61 has added that Eugenius III.,
our predecessor of good memory, entrusted to Abbot Bernard, of Clairvaux, of
happy memory, the task of allaying the controversy between the Churches,
whose decision the Church of Tours refused to abide by." This Letter was
written long afterwards by Innocent III. in the cause of the Church of Tours
against the metropolis of D61.
LETTER CLI. 479
not loudly proclaim you to be a youth of good hope, a
young man of good disposition ? But, alas ! the fair
promise has disappeared. From what hope has France,
who bore and nourished you, fallen ! O, did you but
know ! But if you would apply your heart unto wisdom,
you would also learn to grieve, and your grief would
prevent mine from being sterile. I should go on if I were
to give way to my feelings, but I do not wish to say much
while in uncertainty, or to tight as one that beats the air.
But I have written this that you may know my affection
for you, and may learn that I am near you, if perchance God
should inspire you with a desire for a conference, and if
you should be willing to grant me what I greatly long for,
an interview. I am at Viterbo, 1 and I hear that you are
staying at Rome. Vouchsafe to write back to me to say
how you receive this letter of mine, that I may know what
I ought to do, whether I am to grieve more or less. But if
you despise everything, and will hi no way listen to me, I
for my part shall not lose the fruit of my letter, for it
proceeds from charity ; but you will have to give an answer
for your contempt before the dread tribunal.
LETTER CLII. (Circa A.D. 1135.)
To POPE INNOCENT, ON BEHALF OF THE BISHOP OF
TROVES.
The indiscipline of the clergy increases with the slothful
indulgence of the Bishops. The Bishop of Troyes is hated
by a part of his clergy because he has corrected them.
The evil living of the clergy, the mother of which is
Episcopal negligence, is everywhere disturbing and weaken
ing the Church. The Bishops give what is holy to dogs,
and cast pearls before swine, who turn again and rend
i Bernard was staying, therefore, at Viterbo, in Etruria, and in the year 1133,
when he was sent by Innocent into Germany to Lothaire ; and from this place
the preceding Letter to Innocent seems to have been written. For more about
his stay at Viterbo see Sermon 2 in Cantica, n. 14.
4 8 LETTER CLII.
them. But it is only right that they should have to suffer
from those that they foster. They do not correct those
whom they enrich with the goods of the Church, and there
fore they are grieved and wearied with their misconduct.
The clergy are made wealthy from other men s labours ;
they eat the fruit of the earth and give no money for it, and
their iniquity cometh from their own fat (Ps. Ixxiii. 7,
VULG.). The old saying of the Scripture exactly applies to
them of the present day, The people sat down to eat and to
drink, and rose up to play (i Cor. x. 7). A mind that has
accustomed itself to delights, and that has not trained itself
with the disciplinary rod, contracts many a stain. And
what is more, if you attempt to rub off its long-standing
rust, they will not suffer you to touch it with even the tips
of your fingers ; but as it is written, Jeshurun waxed fat,
and kicked (Deut. xxxii. 15). False witnesses have risen
up, men whose delight is ever to carp at the lives of others
and neglect their own. Your son supplicates for the
Bishop, whose sole fault in this quarrel, unless I am mis
taken, has been that he has rebuked the clergy for their
evil lives. Thus much for the Bishop; now let me offer
excuses for myself. My father knows that I did not receive
before the Nativity of the Blessed Virgin his gracious letter,
in which he preferred to courteously entreat me to come to
him, when he might have ordered me. And so I do not
say, I have bought five yoke of oxen, or I have bought a
piece of ground, or I have married a wife ; but I confess
simply, what, indeed, you are not ignorant of, that I am
feeding my children with milk, and therefore I do not see
how I can leave them without running the risk of causing
scandal, or leaving them exposed to danger.
LETTER CLIII. (A.D. 1135.)
To BERNARD DESPORTES/ OF THE CARTHUSIAN ORDER.
His correspondent had asked for an Exposition of the
i In the Codex Cislerciencis we read: "It should be recollected that there
were two Bernard Desportes, one the prior, the other the sub-prior, who
LETTER CLIII. 481
Canticles. He replies by pleading his inability to perform
so great a task, and to satisfy the expectation of others.
i. You ask importunately, but I refuse as constantly, not as
despising you, but as sparing myself. I wish that I could pro
duce something that was worthy of your eager wish, and of
your intelligence. I would, if I could, give for you the light of
my eyes ; yea, my soul itself, my dearest friend, my brother,
to be embraced in the bowels of Christ by me most of all
with the fulness of spiritual love. But where is the ability,
or when shall I have leisure enough to undertake what you
ask for? Nor do you seem to ask for anything trifling or
worthless, such as lies in my power. You would not be thus
pressing for what was of little moment. For your numerous
letters, and the eagerness that animates them, sufficiently
show your wish. Therefore, the more ardent I see your
feelings to be, the more do I shrink from gratifying them.
Why is this ? I am afraid of bringing forth a ridiculously
insignificant mouse, while you expect great things. I am
afraid of this, and this is the cause of my hesitation. And
what wonder is it that I am afraid of giving what I should
be ashamed to publish? I am unwilling, I confess, to give
you anything, because I think I should be rather issuing
some contemptible work than publishing something that
would be useful. Who can wish to give what would only
cause shame to the giver, without benefiting the receiver ?
Willingly do I give what I have, but unwillingly do I throw
afterwards was made a Cardinal. The prior had been an Ambrosian monk,
and founded the Carthusian Port,?, A.D. 1115. We read of him in the Necrology :
"On the !2thof Febiuary died Bernard, first Prior of Portae, A.D. 1125."
Long before that time he had resigned his office, and was succeeded by another
Bernard as Prior of Portae, after having resigned the see of Bellay, as Peter
Francis ChinHet says in his Mannale Solitarinrum, who also thinks that this and
the next Letter were directed to this second Bernard. He adds, moreover, a
third Bernard during the same period, after the blessed Nathelmus, prior of the
same place, which Bernard was afterwards Bishop of Die. It is evident from
n. 2 of this Letter that the Bernard to whom this Letter was writteiij as well as
the following, was not prior in the year 1135, when the Letter was penned, for
Bernard salutes " my lord the prior/ i.e., Bernard, the first inhabitant and Prior
of Portae. Portae is in Beauje, in the Diocese of Lyons, near the Rhone, three
leagues from Bellay, the Kpiscopal city. Cf. ep. 250.
482 LP:TTER CLIII.
it away. I know that when great things are expected
lesser things are generally displeasing. But what is not
gratefully received is thrown away, not given.
2. It is your aim, since you have leisure and freedom, to
seek from all quarters for fuel for the fire with which you
burn, that you may burn the more, and fulfil the will of the
Lord, who says, And what do I wish, except that it burn
brightly? (S. Luke xii. 49, VULG.). I praise your aim, but
not if you seek to obtain it in a quarter where you are
likely to complain afterwards of having been disappointed.
You err if you seek it with me. I ought rather to beg for
such fuel from you. I know, indeed, how much more
blessed it is to give than to receive ; but that is true only
when what is given is honourable to the giver, expedient
for the receiver, and such a gift you will in vain seek from
me. But such as I have, I am afraid that if I brought it
forward, you would be ashamed of having wished for it,
and would repent of having asked for it. But still, will it
not after all be better for you to make my excuses to your
self ? Let your own eyes judge for themselves. I yield to
your importunity, to take away suspicion. I am dealing
with a friend. I no longer spare my modesty, and hence
forth while your desire is gratified, I will not make mention
of my folly. I am having transcribed for you some ser
mons lately delivered on the beginning of the Canticles,
and I send them to you before they are made public.
When I have time, according as Christ assigns me my tasks,
I will endeavour to proceed with this work. Ask this for
me in your prayers. I w r armly salute through you my lord
and father your Prior, with the rest of your brethren, and I
humbly entreat them to remember me before God.
LETTER CLIV. (Circa A.D. 1136.)
To THE SAME.
He excuses himself for having been unable, on account
of business, to visit the Chartreuse, as he had promised.
He sends some of his Sermons on the Canticles.
LETTER CLIV. 483
I can no longer conceal the sorrow of my heart, nor
hide my distress, from you, my very dear Bernard. 1
recollect my long-standing promise ; it has been my
purpose and strong desire to pass by your way, to visit
again those whom my soul loveth, to ask for rest on my
journey, some strength to bear my labours, some remedy
for my sins ; and in punishment of my sinfulness it has
come to pass that though I have the will, yet I have not the
power to visit you. Be assured, O man of God, that this
is by no means due to the disinclination, or idleness, or
negligence of your friend, but that a cause has intervened
which might not be neglected, and that was the cause of
God. None the less I am devoured by vexation as by a
gnawing worm, and my heaviness is ever in my sight.
And, indeed, I have more than enough of other troubles,
but none so great as this. It is more than the toils of
travelling, the unpleasantness of the heat, the anxieties of
my affairs. Lo ! I have opened my wound to a friend ; it
is yours now to sympathize with me, to bear with me what
I suffer, that I may be relieved. I earnestly ask for your
prayers, and for those of the saints who are with you. I
am sending on to you the promised sermons on the begin
ning of the Canticles, which you asked for. And when you
have read them, I beg you to give me your advice as soon
as possible whether I ought to give them up or proceed
with them.
LETTER CLV. (Circa A.D. 1135.)
To POPK INNOCENT, ON BEHALF OF THE SAME
BERNARD WHEN ELECTED BiSHOP. 1
Bernard Dcsportcs, u /io is destined for a Bishopric in
Lombard) , though well worthy of tliat honour, is not
1 This was perhaps to the See of Pavia, which at that time was vacant
through the death of Peter. This election did not hold, but S. Bernard s advice
was followed, and Bernard Desportes was elected to the See of Bellay, which
dignity he resigned A.U. 1 147, as has been said above, for the office of Prior of
Portae.
4 8 4 LETTER CLV.
altogether Jit for such a place, and would be better re
served for a Jitter ph
lace.
I have heard, reverend Father, that Bernard Desportes,
a man beloved of God and men, is by your irresistible call
to undertake the office and work of a Bishop. It is pro
bably true, for it well becomes your Apostleship to bring
into the light a light that was hidden ; lest he who is capable
of drawing others to the Life should live for himself alone.
For how long is one that can give light to others to lie
concealed and only burn ? Let it be placed, if you see
good, on a candlestick, that it may be a burning and a
shining light ; but at the same time let it not be in a place
where the force of the storms is great, lest it be perchance
extinguished. Who is there that does not know of the
evil-living and turbulence of the Lombards ? Who knows
them better than yourself ? You know better than I how
weakened is the episcopal power there, how rebellious a
house it is. What am I to think is likely to be done by a
man whose health is shattered, and who has been ac
customed to a hermit s quiet, in the midst of a barbarous,
riotous, and passionate populace ? When are such holiness
and such iniquity likely to agree? or when will such
simplicity and such hypocrisy live in concord ? Let him be
reserved, if you see good, for a more congenial sphere, and
for another flock, that he may profit that over which he
presides; and let not hasty action destroy the fruit which in
due time he will be able to bring forth.
LETTER CLVI. (Circa A.D. 1135 OR 1136.)
To THE SAME, ON BEHALF OF THE CLERGY OF
ORLEANS.
For how long is the unhappy Church of Orleans to knock
at the heart of the Father of the fatherless and the Judge of
widows ? How long now has the noble virgin of Israel
LKTTKR CLVII. 485
been lying in the dust, bereft not only of her husband, 1 but
also of the dear pledges of his affection ! Alas ! there is
none to lift her up. How long will it be before you send
away the children crying after you with their unhappy
mother ? I mean those who having lost their houses and
their goods have only saved their lives by flight. Why
hangs back the powerful hand, which never yet has shrunk
from avenging the oppressed, or from smiting the haughty?
Why delays it, I ask, to rescue the afflicted from the hand
of the strong, and to mete out punishment to the proud ?
Even if it delays, let it not rest idle for ever. Help that
has been withheld should, when it is given, come in greater
force, and render more thorough service. Let this be the
reward, if you see good, for painful waiting, that both those
who in their arrogance have abused the patience of the
Apostolic See, should in the end gain nothing by it ; and
also that those who have patiently endured, trusting in your
word, should never have any cause to repent them of their
patience.
LETTER CLVII. (A.D. 1135.)
To HAIMERIC, ON BEHALF OF THE SAME.
To his special friend HAIMERIC, by the grace of God
Cardinal-deacon, and Chancellor of the Apostolic See, his
Brother BERNARD, of Clairvaux, sends greeting, and his
wish that he may shine ever more and more with the light
of wisdom and virtue.
If I did not know your sympathy with the afflicted, and
your indignation against wrong-doers, I would at every
opportunity importunately beseech you on behalf of Master
1 After the death of Bishop John, which took place A.D. 1 133, the See was
for four years vacant, according to the Annul* of Orleans by Charles Soussay.
When Hugh, the Dean, who had been elected, was returning from the King s
Court, he was set upon and killed by ruffians on the road, as Ordericus Vitalis
says (A.D. 1134). This Letter and the next were written by Bernard before his
third journey to Rome in A.D. 1 137.
486 LETTER CLVIII.
William, of Meun, 1 and his companions ; I would stir you
up against their oppressors and calumniators. But as it is,
it is enough to have mentioned them to you ; it is yours
swiftly to act as necessity requires.
LETTER CLVIII. (A.D. 1135.)
To POPE INNOCENT, ON THE MURDER OF MASTER
THOMAS, PRIOR OF S. VICTOR, OF PARIS. S
To his most loving Father and Lord, INNOCENT, Supreme
Pontiff, BERNARD, unworthy Abbot of Clairvaux, sends
greeting, with the assurance of his prayers and his feeble
services.
1 Maudunum, or Magdunum (Meun), is a town near Orleans, on the Loire,
where there was a Collegiate Church of S. Lifardus, and a palace belonging
to the Bishop of Orleans.
2 S. Bernard in this Letter earnestly exhorts the Pope to exercise his power and
punish the sacrilegious persons who had murdered Thomas, Prior of S. Victor,
of Paris. He hints at the occasion of the murder, viz., that Thomas, fired with
xeal for ecclesiastical discipline, withstood the covetousness and unjust exactions
with which the Archdeacon of Paris was oppressing the clergy. Inflamed with
hatred at this, the Archdeacon meditated revenge, until his nephews, either
sharing his vindictive hatred, and so identifying themselves with the cause of
their kinsman, or hired and urged by him to the wickedness, attacked Thomas
on the road, and, indeed, in the very company of the Bishop. Stephen, Bishop
of Paris, at once excommunicated the author of the murder with his aiders and
abettors ; and, deeply stirred by the enormity of the crime, he for a time retired
to Clairvaux as though to seek to alleviate his sorrow, and from thence sent the
following Letter to Geoffrey, Legate of the holy Roman Church, and Bishop of
Chartres :
" To GEOFFREY, by the grace of God Bishop of Chartres, and Legate of the
Apostolic See, STHPIIEN, by the same grace, unworthy minister of the Church
of Paris, and now an ill-starred herald of misery and affliction, sends greeting
in the Lord.
" i. I know not how to find fitting words to bring to your ears and heart the
weight of this new calamity. My news is of things hard and difficult to speak
of, painful to all to whom the reproach of Jesus Christ and our holy Mother
Church is a hard and grievous thing, and especially to us placed under the
habit and seal of religion, to whom these things are likely to be more serious,
as the injury more specially affects us ; I speak of the fall of one man, whose
death portends oppression and ruin to us all. Master Thomas, Prior of the
monastery of S. Victor, a man well tried and proved, beloved as a friend by all
LETTER CLVIII. 487
v;oo(l men, my most devoted and zealous coadjutor and champion in the defence
of the Holy Church, has been, you must know, cut off by the hands of wicked
men, put to death in the flesh, but, as we have sure and certain hope, alive in
Christ. For Christ, in whose cause he died, will not be absent from him in
glory ; for as he breathed out his last in my arms, he protested with a loud
voice that he died for the sake of righteousness, most confident of his own
righteousness past and present, in which he had fought against the ungodly
within the Church of Christ, leaving a proof to us that in that righteousness he
would be perfected. This was the first and this was the last cause of his
sufferings ; for he was then with me on behalf of righteousness itself. For I,
mainly by his urgency, which he was wont to show in these things, and with
the command and assent of the King, who had also been similarly moved by
him, had been to correct and set in order the house of nuns at Chelles, having
taken with me several Religious, viz., the Abbot of S. Victor, and of S. Magloire,
and the sub-prior of S. Mai tin s, and many other monks, canons, and clerks ;
and when the business had been finished to the best of our ability, and I was on
my way home, as we were near the Castle of the lord Stephen, which is called
Gournay, we were suddenly attacked by the nephews of Archdeacon Theobald,
who were lying in wait for us. And as we were going on our way, in peace
and unarmed (it being the Lord s Day), they suddenly rushed on us with drawn
swords, and paying no respect to God, nor His holy day. nor to me, nor to the
Religious with me, they slew the innocent in the midst of us, and threatened
me too with death if I did not speedily take me out of their sight. But we,
having more trust in God, threw ourselves into the midst among their swords,
and rescued him, half-dead and dreadfully hacked. Then standing round him
we bade him make his confession, and forgive the wickedness of his enemies.
Then he joyfully forgave all who had sinned against him, and sought forgive
ness for his own sins, and received the communion of the Body and Blood of
Christ, and then testified with a loud voice before all that he died for righteous
ness sake, and so gave up the ghost.
" 2. Hence, therefore, although we have sure and certain hope of his salvation
and glory, wherein we rejoice and although we know that right dear in the
sight of the Lord is the death of his saints, yet the grief and deep mourning,
which are consuming us for the loss of our friend, and the great dishonour done
to us all. are tempered by no consolation that we can feel. For I behold myself
slain in him, and even much more slain than he, for by his death I see myself
exposed to dangers from which he has been set free. It remains, therefore,
that since you see me now desolate and in misery, you delay not to come at
once to console and counsel me. For as I cannot bear to see the place of so
detestable a crime, 1 have fled to Clairvaux, and shall await you there, that we
may take counsel together what we ought to do to wipe out this intolerable
dishonour done to our holy Church. This onslaught threatens us all with
death, and it will come unless the Lord prevent it. I, therefore, bid you, and
with all my power beseech you, to hasten without any delay to Clairvaux, for
dangers, which brook no laggard counsel, are threatening me on every side."
Having received this Letter, Geoffrey hurried to Clairvaux, and by Apostolic
command bade the Bishops of Rheims, Rouen, Tours, and Sens to assemble in
488 LETTER CLVIII.
force at a Synod to be held at Jouarre. Then when they assembled, Hugh,
Bishop of Grenoble, and the community of Chartreuse, wrote, "asking and
beseeching them to unsheathe the sword of ecclesiastical rigour against the
sacrilegious murderers." Innocent, too, informed of the facts by S. Bernard, re
plied to the decree of the Fathers, confirming it and making it still more severe.
John Picard, in his notes to the Letter of Innocent, and others who follow him,
assign this murder to the year 1 130, but it is placed by Baronius in the year 1135.
But this (former) opinion cannot be admitted. For from ep. 159 it is evident
that Thomas was killed on a Sunday, and on the 2Oth August, as we read in the
Necrology of S. Victor : " The anniversary of the death of Magister Thomas,
Prior of this Church, who was cruelly slain by the enemies of righteousness for
his defence of righteousness, and so both by his life and death he left behind him
a noble example of an honourable and patient life for his successors to strive to
imitate." On Picard s authority, too, the Kalendar of S. Guinail, of Corbeii,
agrees with this. The day, therefore, that was consecrated by the blood of
Thomas ought to bear the same dominical letter as the year 1130; but it does
not, for the dominical letter of that year is E, but the corresponding letter of
20th August is A. Picard adds two other arguments in support of his con
tention. One that the death of Prior Thomas preceded that of Hugh, of
Grenoble, since he wrote with the Carthusians to the Fathers assembled in
council at Jouarre to urge them to avenge Thomas. But he says that the Life of
S. Hugh, by Guy, Abbot of the Grand Chartreuse, places his death in the yea r
i 132 ; and therefore the death of Thomas is to be referred, not, indeed, to the
year 1131, when Innocent was in Gaul, accompanied the whole time by
Bernard, and would not need to be petitioned by so many letters, but to the year
i 130, in which Innocent was made Pontiff. The second argument is that
Innocent, about the beginning of the year 1131, visited Paris, and went to the
Church of S. Victor, and ordered the body of the blessed Thomas to be carried
from the cloister into the Church on March 9th. It had been buried, therefore,
in the August of the preceding year. But neither argument is conclusive;
certainly not the first. For what is there to hinder our saying that this Letter
was written by the successor of S. Hugh, who bore the same name ? Nor can
the second be pressed closely. For, granted that Innocent ordered the body to be
moved into a more honourable place, yet it cannot be affirmed that he did so in
person ; nay, the mandate was sent from Italy, as is manifest from D Achery
(Spicii., Vol. v. ep. on p. 567), where we find that he rebukes the Archbishops
of Rheims and Sens for their delay in carrying out the excommunication of the
murderers of Thomas. He concludes : " Therefore we command that the body
of the above-named good man, who now bears testimony to his righteousness
and innocence before the Supreme Judge, and whose life was a life of obedience,
and who was slain in the service of his Bishop, be honourably buried in his
Church. Given at Pisa Dec. 21." Therefore we must say that this murder
took place, not in the year 1 130, but in the year 1 133, in which the dominical
letter E corresponds with the letter of the 2Oth August, and in which year, too,
a second Hugh was occupying the See of Grenoble in succession to S. Hugh ;
in which Innocent was at Pisa for the Council held there ; in which, lastly,
Bernard was sent from Italy into Germany to arrange terms of peace between
LETTER CLVIII. 489
i. The wild beast which has laid waste Joseph, unable to
meet the eager attack of our dogs, is said to have fled to
you for shelter. What madness has seized the wretched
creature, a wanderer, and stranger, and fugitive on earth,
to cause it to fly thither of all places where it should have
most to fear ! Most accursed one ! thinkest thou that the
seat of strictest justice is a cave of robbers or a lurking-
place of lions? Do you dare, with jaws still foaming, and
mouth yet marked with the blood of the son you have but
just now slain, to flee to the breast of the mother and
appear before the eyes of the father ? Yet if it is penance
that he seeks, let it not be denied him. If it is a hearing,
let him, if you please, obtain such an one as Moses gave
the people worshipping their molten image, or such as
Phinehas gave the fornicating Israelite, or such as Matta-
thias gave to him who offered sacrifice to devils, or, to
take an example from your own house, such as Ananias
and Sapphira gained from blessed Peter, such an audience,
lastly, as the Saviour gave those who bought and sold in
the temple. Do we not know that the sins of certain men
go before them to judgment? Does not the voice of your
brother s blood cry out against you from the ground? I
believe that the spirit of our martyr, whom but a few days
since you cruelly delivered to death, joins with the souls of
the others who have been slain, in crying with a loud voice
from under the altar, and in demanding vengeance, and
that the more urgently as his blood has been more newly-
poured forth on the earth.
2. But he will reply. Was it I who actually slew him ?
Lothaire and Conrad, and having returned into Gaul stayed there long- enough
to be present at a Cistercian Chapter, duly held in this year on the i^th
September, as appears from the address of a Letter sent in this year by Peter of
Cluny to the said Chapter (Pet. Vep. lib. i. ep. 36), at which he is spoken of as
being present. Ordericus, too, favours this opinion of mine (lib. xiii., A.D.
1134), who, in giving a summary of several events which had taken place in
the preceding year, after naming the death of John, Bishop of Orleans, and
Hugh, the Dean, his successor-designate, which took place, according to the
Annals of Orleans, in A.D. 1133, goes on to say: "Then, too, was killed
Thomas, of S. Victor, a man of great authority."
VOL. II. 32
4QO LETTER CLVIII.
No, not directly, but it was your friends who did, and for
your sake. Whether at your instigation, may God see and
judge. If you are to be excused, whose teeth are spears
and arrows, whose tongue is a sharp sword, then the Jews
ought not to be held guilty of the death of Christ, inasmuch
as they were wary enough to withhold their hands from it.
This man had been wont to abuse his office of Archdeacon,
to grind the presbyters with unlawful exactions, and when
this was put an end to by the zeal and diligence of the
blessed Thomas, a lover and upholder of righteousness, this
man held him in hatred, and was often in the habit of
threatening him with death. Many, whose testimony is not
to be rejected, declare that they have heard him so threaten.
Lastly, let him say, if he can, what other complaint his
nephews had against Thomas, that they should lay their
impious hands on the saint of the Lord. If, then, the man
who, as nearly all suspect, is the occasion, the instigator,
and the plotter of this wickedness is to go, as he impudently
presumes, unpunished by the Apostolic authority, what
provocation will be given to sin in the Church without fear
of punishment ? One of two things must inevitably follow :
either that none of the noble or powerful of this world will
hereafter be admitted to ecclesiastical honours, or that the
clergy will everywhere have free permission to abuse their
sacred office for every unworthy end ; lest, perchance, any
one kindled with zeal for God should attempt to present
them, and for so acting be slain as a champion of righteous
ness by the soldier s sword. And then what is left for the
spiritual sword, for ecclesiastical censure, for the law and
discipline of Christ, for the reverence due to the priesthood,
and for the fear of God, if no one dares to whisper a pro
test against the evil lives of the clergy from dread of the
secular power? For what can be more monstrous or more
disgraceful to the Church than that each one should main
tain his own ecclesiastical dignity by armed violence instead
of by moral integrity ? Wherefore, my lord and father, I
pray you to give such a decision, according to your wisdom,
concerning this man as shall be to the Church s profit, so
LETTER CL1X. 491
that the salvation given now may flow down to our children,
and that another generation may hear not only how
audacious was the crime, but also how terrible was the
vengeance. Otherwise, if the poison be allowed to have
full play, if no antidote is given, it will destroy many
which God forbid.
LETTER CLIX. (A.D. 1133.)
To THE SAME, IN THE NAME OF STEPHEN, BISHOP OE
PARIS, AND ON THE SAME SUBJECT.
To his most godly father, INNOCENT, Supreme Pontiff,
STEPHEN, unhappy Bishop of the Church that is at Paris,
sends greeting, praying for mercy and judgment.
i. A religious man, Master Thomas, Prior of S. Victor,
while engaged in an office of charity, on a journey that
piety had bidden him to undertake, in a holy work, in the
midst of a company of saints, on the Lord s Day, has been
rruelly murdered on my bosom, so to speak, and almost
in my arms, for his righteousness, by the ungodly, and
has been made obedient even unto death. There is no
need for a lengthy petition, when tears flowing silently are
better able to stir sympathy, and when love finds expres
sion in sobs which interrupt my prayer. These surely,
if they do not demand, at all events deserve compassion,
inasmuch as they indicate and show a grief that is un
feigned, and banish all suspicion of simulation. I think,
therefore, that, to touch the heart of my father with grief
tor the disaster that has befallen us, it will be enough for
me to simply mention the circumstances. A sad and
pitiful story speaks for itself, especially before you, and
needs no glossing appeals for sympathy. O, my eyes ! run
ye down with floods of tears, for my strength and the light
of my eyes has failed me, and he is no more with me. For
I do not mourn for him, but for myself. How should I
weep for him, who, by a quick and glorious death, has passed
into life ?
492
LETTER CLIX.
2. Who would not pursue with praises rather than with
lamentations him to whom to live was Christ, and to die is
i^ain ? I used to bear the name of Bishop ; he performed
the labours. Casting aside all thought of honour, he bore
the burden with all his strength. And therefore he truly,
though dead, is enjoying life, while I, though living, am in
the midst of death. He did not fall into the snares of
death, but escaped them ; and lo ! the sorrows of death
compass me about, and the overflowings of ungodliness
make me afraid. It is I, therefore, it is I that am to be
pitied, now that you are dead, my sweetest brother Thomas,
I am like a weaned child, without the sweet refreshment
that you gave me, bereft of your wise counsel, and left
desolate by the loss of your sure protection. Better would
it have been for me to die than to live without you. There
fore, my life, is wasted away in grief, and my years in
mourning. The Church grieves with me, but she grieves
also for herself. Common is the loss, common the lamen
tation ; the whole of the religious world deplores with me
his loss, and all alike implore that they may receive consola
tion from their father. If Theobald Notier 1 come before
you let him feel to his cost that the Lord hath heard the
voice of my weeping. His nephews were the perpetrators
of the crime ; he was its cause ; whether he instigated it is
a matter to be ascertained. Do not listen to anything that
he may say, till our messenger arrive, who will put you more
fully in possession of the truth, and preserve you from lying
lips and a deceitful tongue.
LETTER CLX. (A.D, 1133.)
To HAIMERIC, THE CHANCELLOR, IN THE NAME OF THE
SAME BISHOP.
To his dearest lord, HAIMERIC, venerable Cardinal-
deacon and Chancellor of the holy Roman Church, his
1 Archdeacon of Paris, as Stephen the Bishop of Paris testifies in the Letter
given in the last note, which was perhaps written by S. Bernard himself in
Stephen s name to Geoffrey of Chartres, the then legate.
LKTTKR CLX. 493
servant STEPHEN, of Paris, sends loving and friendly
greeting.
A friend is proved in time of necessity. 1 say this, not
that I have any doubt of your holy friendship for me, but to
prevent any doubt from arising. But arise it undoubtedly
will if I shall now find no sign of friendly zeal in you.
Further, know that it will be to me an inexcusable proof of
your want of zeal if Theobald Notier does not meet with
what he deserves whenever a fitting opportunity arises ; for
through his heartless ambition he has cut away by the hands
of his nephews the half of my soul, leaving the remaining
half for nothing but cruel suffering.
LETTER CLXI. (A.D. 1133.)
To THE LORI) POPE INNOCENT.
-[gainst flic murderers of Archembald, Subdean of
Orleans.
The voice of the blood of Archembald, 1 subdean ot"
Orleans, cries with a loud voice for vengeance. For, alas !
that I should have to say it, according to the Prophet,
blood toucheth blood (Hos. iv. 2), and when once they are
joined they call to you still more loudly from France. The
blood of both calls and shouts with so loud a shout that it
might even strike the palace of heaven itself, so piteously
that it might soften hearts of stone. What are you doing,
O friend of the bridegroom, O guardian of the Bride of
Christ, O shepherd of the sheep of Christ ? Do you think
1 For his murderers, see note to ep. 150. Peter the Venerable also complains
of his murder (lib. i. ep. 17), and implies that he was taken off before Thomas
of S. Victor in the following words: "The impunity enjoyed by these men
lends arms to their phrensy ; and so the sword of the persecutors, after slaying
the Subdean of Orleans, has been unsheathed against Thomas of Paris, just
because the first was unavenged. Still, the contrary may be without difficulty
inferred from this Letter of S. Bernard s. But John, the author of the death of
Archembald, was possibly John, the Uean of Orleans, who met a like end.
His death is recorded in the Lamentation ot that Church given by Stephen of
Tournay.
494
LETTER CLXI.
that it will be sufficient to ponder upon a remedy to meet
this infamous and unheard of evil ? Certainly one must
be [not only thought of, but] found which may bring
relief for the present to the wound lately inflicted
on the Church, and may act as a caution for the future.
Therefore gird thee with thy sword upon thy thigh, O
thou most mighty. If Phinehas does not stand forth even
now and make atonement the terror will not cease. If the
Church s vigour spare those men, John, and Theobald
Notier, by whose assent, and perhaps at whose instigation,
if not by whose hand, innocent blood has been poured forth
on the earth, then who is there that sees not what is to
follow ? How many in the ranks of the clergy will the
impunity of these men cause to be promoted from fear of
their friends rather than from what their holy living
deserves ! New diseases must be met with new remedies.
It seems to many that the Apostolic sword would act with
most expedience and justice in cutting off these men from
every ecclesiastical dignity, so that they may be both
deprived of what they have, and be prevented from ever
rising to any others.
LETTER CLXII. (A.D. 1133.)
TO HAIMERIC, 1 THE CHANCELLOR, ON THE SAME SUBJECT.
I have often testified to my Lord the Bishop of Paris of
your frequent and kindly mention of him. Lo ! now the
demand is made upon you to show not in word or in tongue,
but in deed and in truth, both that I was not speaking, and
that you have not written, anything but the truth. So this
concerns you, not only for the Bishop s sake, but also for
the sake of your other friends, who would certainly be
greatly concerned about you, if by any chance this cause
should happen to go contrary to their expectation.
1 In the Colbertine MS., No. 1038, and in a very old edition this epistle is
given as to John of Crema, the next to Haimeric. But what is said in the latter
of the two about the conversion of the person to whom it is addressed is more
applicable to John.
LETTER CLXIII. 495
LETTER CLXIII. (A.I). 1133.)
To JOHN OF CREMA, CARDINAL-PRIEST, ON THE SAME
SUBJECT.
I shall never forget the love and consideration which you
have condescended to show me, a man of no influence and
no rank ; and I wish continually and frequently pray that
worthy fruits may follow from your repentance and conver
sion, which have been a source of joy and delight to me as
well as to the Angels. Especially now does this Gallican
Church of ours join me in looking for them, and I think not
unseasonably. It concerns your reputation as well as mine
that I do not count on you to my own confusion. Let it be
then so clear to all that your zeal for truth and righteous
ness burns against the murderers of clerks, and against
their instigators, that I may not be sorry for having made
my boast of you.
LETTER CLXIV. (A.I). 1138.)
To POPE INNOCENT IN THE MATTER OF THE CHURCH OF
LANGRES. 1
i. When I was at Rome there happened to come there the
Lord Archbishop of Lyons. With him came also Robert,
Dean of the Church of Langres, and Odalric, Canon of the
same church, seeking for themselves and the Chapter of
Langres permission to elect a fresh Bishop. They had
i The events referred to here did not take place after the death of Guilencus, or
VVilencus, Bishop of Langres, to whom Letters 59 and 60 were sent, but after the
death of his successor, William dc Sabran. The death of Guilencus took place
August ist, A.U. 1 135, that of William in the year 1138. Then there was a dis
puted succession. Peter, Archbishop of Lyons, and Hugh of Burgundy, afterwards
Duke, gave their support to a certain monk of Cluny ; he was opposed by Robert,
Dean of Langres, Pontius the Archdeacon, Odalric, and other Canons. Bernard
was called in as arbiter, and finally the Cluniac monk was excluded, and God
frey, Prior of Clairvaux, a relation of Bernard s, was elected. There are three
Letters of Peter of Cluny about this controverted election of the Bishop of Langres ;
one which is ep. 29 of the first book, written to Bernard, in which he endeavours
to clear the name of one of his monks, who had been chosen as Bishop of Langres,
trom unjust aspersions; the second, which is ep. 28 of the second book, to Pope
Innocent, in which he asks that Innocent will refuse to confirm the election of the
496 LETTER CLXIV.
received, indeed, a command from my lord the Pope to
abstain by all means from acting till they had the advice of
religious men. And when they wished and asked to obtain
this permission through me, I altogether refused until I
knew for a certainty that they intended to elect a good and
fitting person. They replied that they would subordinate
their purpose and intention to my opinion, and that they
would do nothing but what I advised them. And this they
promised me. But as their promise did not give me suffi
cient confidence, the Archbishop joined his entreaties to
theirs, and promised faithfully the same thing. He added,
moreover, that if the clergy should attempt to act otherwise
he would not confirm or give his sanction to anything that
they might do. My lord the Chancellor also gave a
similar pledge. Not content with this, I went also before
my lord the Pope to have what we had agreed upon con
firmed by his sanction and authority. Nevertheless, a con
ference was held daily between us on the election to be
held, and, out of the many names of which mention was
Abbot of Vezelay to the same See ; the last, which is ep. 36 of the same book,
to Innocent again, in which he asks that the Church of Langres in future
episcopal elections may be allowed its full rights according to the canons. By
comparing the first and third it is evident that they refer to the election of which
Bernard here speaks. But it is more difficult to say whether the second also
refers to it. My own opinion is that it must be understood of another person.
For in the first, Peter the Venerable simply speaks of the elected man as " a
monk of Cluny and my son," in the second "the Abbot of Vezelay." In the
first he says that " he was met by Canons of Langres as he was on his return
from Poitou, who told him of the election of his monk ; in the latter he
says that he had heard a rumour that " ceitain men were clamorously seeking
from Innocent that the Abbot of Vezelay might be Bishop of Langres. In the
first he does all he can to help forward the confirmation of his monk; in the
second he strives to prevent the confirmation of the Abbot of Vezelay. There
fore 1 think that the opinion is not to be despised of those who say that Wilencus,
Bishop of Langres, was succeeded by William de Sabran, who perhaps was
taken from presiding over the Abbey of Vezelay to rule the See of Langres ; and
that Geoffrey, as will be shown presently, succeeded him. At length, the
Cluniac having been excluded, Geoffrey was elected and confirmed A.D. 1138,
that is when Bernard had returned into Gaul after the extinction of the schism.
But we should observe in this history, as Baronius does (A.D. 1138), that
although Peter of Cluny so warmly took the side of his monk, and although he-
was worsted by Bernard, yet he refused to change his kindly feelings towards
Bernard and his monks (Cf. ep. 229, n. 5).
LETTER CLXIV. 497
made, two at last were chosen, and it was agreed that we
would none of us dissent from the election of either of the
two. And so my lord the Pope decreed that our decision
should be binding without any change, and both Archbishop
and clerks promised faithfully to abide by it. When they
had left I made a stay of several days longer in Rome, and
when I was able to obtain permission from my lord to
return I took my journey to my brethren.
2. And as I was crossing the Alps I found that the day
was at hand on which the consecration to the See of
Langres was to take place, of a person concerning whom I
would that 1 had heard better reports and more honourable
to him. But 1 am unwilling to repeat what it gave me pain
to hear. I was persuaded by not a few religious who had
come to salute me to turn aside to Lyons in order, if
possible, to prevent the execution of the infamous act that
was contemplated. For I, out of regard for my health and
the weariness of my body, had determined to go home by
a shorter way, especially because I had not given much
credence to the rumours that had reached me. For who
would have thought that so great a man would have been so
lickle as to set aside his own promise so lately given, to say
nothing of the command of his lord, and lay his hands
without any fear on the head of one whose ill reputation was
known ? And so I listened to the advice of these religious,
and turned my steps towards Lyons, and when I arrived I
found that things were just as I had heard. The joyful (or
rather unfortunate) festival had been prepared for. The
Dean, however, and, unless I am mistaken, the greater part
of the Canons of Lyons were in constant and open opposi
tion. The shameful and grievous report had filled the city,
too, and was hourly spreading and gaining strength.
3. What was I to do? I called on the Archbishop.
With due reverence I reminded him of the agreement that he
had entered into, and of the instructions that he had received.
He admitted all that I said. But he said that the cause of
his going from his promise was the refusal of the Duke s
son to accept what we had determined, and he said that to
pacify him he had been guilty of this change of purpose,
LETTER CLXIV.
and had done as he did for the sake of peace. He went on
to say that whatever he might have done before, he would
do as I bade for the future. Then I said, in thanking him,
" God forbid that it should be my will ; nay, rather God s
will be done. And what this will is, will doubtless be
known, if the matter is brought before the Council of
Bishops and other religious persons who have assembled at
your summons, or will soon be here. But if, after invoking
the Holy Spirit, the consent of all bids you proceed in the
work that you have begun, then proceed in it; but if not,
then listen to the Apostle who bids you Lay hands suddenly
on no man " (i Tim. v. 22). My advice seemed to please
him. Meanwhile, that man is said to have arrived ; but he
went to an hostel, not to the palace. He came on Friday
night ; he left on Saturday morning. It is not for me to
say why he was loath to put in an appearance at the Court,,
when that was the very object of his long journey. It
might have been thought to be a monk s modesty, and a
contempt for honour, were it not that what followed showed
that it was otherwise. For what were we to conclude when
the Archbishop returned from him, and declared before all
that he could in noway induce him to acquiesce, but that he
rejected wholly what had been done in the matter?
4. In short, the Archbishop soon after bade the election
to take place. This is testified by some of the Canons of
Langres, who were then present, as well as by a letter
which can be produced. When it was brought forward and
read before the Chapter of Langres, immediately another
was read contrary to the first in every point, asserting that
the consecration was postponed, not set aside, appointing a
day and place to decide a cause which the first letter
declared to have been decided already. You would think
that in these letters it was not merely diverse, but adverse
persons that were speaking and contradicting each other, if
it were not that one and the same image was impressed on
the wax, one and the same name signed at the bottom ; and
so it was manifestly declared, to the amazement of all that
were present, that from one fountain there flowed both sweet
and bitter. These contradictory letters are in our hands ;
LETTER CLXIV. 4gg
whichever you determine to obey, you must be held dis
obedient. If you obey the first that you open, you will be
condemned by the last, or if you elect to follow the latter,
the former one will complain. And would that the second
letter could as well protect itself against a third as it over
turned the first. But lo ! we have letter upon letter, so
that it is not with us as with the Prophet, Line upon line
(Is. xxviii. 10), but rather line against line.
5. In the meantime the man who had shrunk from
consecration, and rejected the election, hastened to the
King. He obtained formal possession of the Regalia, 1 but
by what title, he must say for himself. Presently letters were
sent out, changing the place which had been appointed, and
anticipating the day, in order that through the inconvenience
of time and place opposers might be deprived of all chance
of acting, and a march might be stolen on all who might
wish to appeal. But no counsel can stand against that of
God, by whose providence it came to pass that neither
opposers nor appellants were wanting. An appeal was
lodged by Falco, Dean of Lyons ; by Ponce, Archdeacon of
Langres ; by Bonami, priest and Canon of Langres, and
also by my brethren, Bruno and Geoffrey, who knew nothing
of what these men had intended in their hearts, but who
happened to arrive by chance, and no doubt by the will of
God, who foresees all things. So little time, indeed, was
left, that when I learnt the day scarcely four days were left
for our messenger to go with letters to prevent what was
more a sacrilege than a sacrament from being performed.
He, too, nevertheless, opposed it, and summoned the con-
secrators and the man they proposed to consecrate to the
Apostolic See. He whom I had sent was a Canon of
Langres. I say the truth ; I lie not. The Truth Himself
is my witness that I have said nothing out of personal
hatred, but that I have truthfully set down everything out of
love of the truth alone.
1 The investiture of the Regalia is the formal delivering by the king to the
new bishop of the temporal jurisdiction and lands of the Church after the oath
of fidelity has been taken. For the Regalia see also ep. 170, Suger (epp. 19
and 20), and Du Gauge s Glossary.
500 LETTER CLXV.
LETTER CLXV. (A.D. 1138.)
To FALCO, DEAN, AND GUY, TREASURER, OF THE
CHURCH OF LYONS.
Great as you see, dearly beloved, is the plague that is
threatening our Church, and great is the care needed ; and
not only is the plague great, but close at hand, so that we
must with tears press on the heavenly Physician and say :
" Lord, come down ere it die." There is one thing which
makes our grief the more acute, and almost causes us to
despair of a cure, and that is that the source of our tribula
tion is where we ought to have looked for its relief. For
who is it, O, unhappy Church, that has brought this evil, of
which you complain, upon you ? It is no enemy, not one
who hates you, but your bosom friend, your leader and
metropolitan himself. Why comes this evil from the south
and not from the north? 1 Surely there is no grief like unto
my grief, since it is from those, and none others, on w 7 hom I
most relied, that I have suffered these things. O, Lyons !
my holy Mother Church, what a monster have you now
chosen for a bridegroom /or your daughter! No mother
do we find you in this, but a step-mother. How far has
this son-in-law of yours now degenerated from the honour,
weight, and integrity for which you were once so renowned?
Am I to say that that is an honourable marriage and an
underiled bed \vhich has been brought about in such a way
and with such a man ? In defiance of all law, and order,
and reason all things have been so confounded, nay, as all
A reference may be conjectured to Ps. Ixxv. 7 : Neither from the east, nor
from the west, nor yet from the south. But the resemblance in the Vulgate is
much less strong : Neither from the east, nnr from the ivest, nor from the desert
hills. Compare, however, Ps. xlviii. 2, upon the north side lieth the city of the
great King; Jer. vi. I, Evil oppeareth out of the north; Ps. cxxvi. 4, Turn
again our captivity, O Lord, as the streams in the south ; and the comment of
Gerhohus on the latter passage.
There is not space to go into the subject here, but the north was taken in
Mediaeval times to be mystically the quarter whence evil came. In exorcisms,
and the Renunciation during the Baptismal Office, if I mistake not, the officiant
was directed to turn towards the north ; and the north side of churchyards was
usually chosen for the burials of criminals and persons under ecclesiastical
censures. [E.]
LETTER CLXVI. 501
know, all things have been so fraudulently and rashly
ordered and ventured on, that it would be most unseemly
for a bailiff even, or receiver of tolls, to say nothing of a
Bishop, to be appointed in this way. How can I sufficiently
sing your praises, dearly beloved, who have alone mourned
with your afflicted Church, and have once and again stood
up in her defence when oppressed, rising on the other side,
and opposing yourselves as a wall for the house of Israel ?
In that whole congregation not one has been found like
you, to keep the law of the Most High, to obey the sacred
canons, to put on the zeal of Phinehas and smite the forni-
cators with the sword of the tongue. And since these
things redound more and more on all sides to the glory of
God and your fame, it only remains for you to give a worthy
ending to so good and praiseworthy a beginning, and do
all you can to join the tail to the head of the victim.
LETTER CLXVI. (Circa A.I). 1138.)
To POPE INNOCENT, ON THE SAME SUBJECT.
i. Again I call, again I knock, if not with clamorous cry,
yet with tears and groanings. I am compelled to reiterate
my crying by the reiterated injury inflicted on us by the
wicked, and by those who prolong their iniquity. They
have made themselves strong and added treachery to their
evil-doing. They add sin to sin, and their pride is ever
going up higher. Their phrensy has strengthened itself,
while shame and the fear of God are no more. The man
whom they did not hesitate to elect, my father, contrary to
your wise and just arrangement, they have even dared to
consecrate, or rather execrate, after an appeal had been
made to you. This has been done presumptuously by the
Archbishop of Lyons and the Bishops of Autun and Macon;
all friends of Cluny. What a vast multitude of saints will
be confounded by these men s fraud and audacity, if they
are forced to bear such a yoke imposed on them in such a
way. Wicked and shameful thing ! If they are to accept
it, it will be as if they were being forced to bow the knees
to Baal, or, as the Prophet says, to make a covenant with
502 LETTER CLXVI.
death and to be at agreement with hell (Is. xxviii. 15). I
ask, Where are equity, law, the authority of the sacred
canons, and reverence for your majesty? That appeal
which is denied to none that is oppressed was of no profit
to me alone. When gold sways the throne, and silver sits
at the seat of judgment, laws and canons are silent, and
right and equity have no place. With the same weapons,
which is still more intolerable, they threaten to storm the
heights of the Apostolic citadel itself. That, however, is
but vain, for it is founded upon a Rock.
2. But what am I doing? I have gone too far, I confess ;
it is not for me to accuse or blame any one ; it is enough
for me to bewail my grief. After long delay, and many
toils, which I undertook in the service of the Roman
Church, when at last it seemed good to your Serenity to
let me return to my brethren, I rejoiced, though I was but
an unprofitable servant with shattered health, because of
the sheaves of peace which I was taking back with me, and
I arrived safely at my monastery. I thought that I had
escaped from labour to rest, that it was allowed me to re
pair the losses of my spiritual studies, and the ruffling of
the spirit s tranquillity which had met me outside my walls,
and behold ! tribulation and anguish have come upon me.
As I lie upon my bed I am tortured more by the pangs of
grief than by the body s pains. I do not complain of any
temporal inconvenience. It is my soul that is in my hands,
and its salvation that is at stake. Would you advise me
to commit the keeping of my soul to a man who has lost
his own ? I know that you would not. Wherefore I have
said to my soul that it is better for her to take flight from
hence than to consume the remainder of my days with
grief, and none the less to risk my salvation. But may
God guide you to the course which is best ; may He bring
back to your recollection, if you think me worthy, in what
manner I have dealt with you, and make you cast an eye of
love upon your son, and free him from the anguish with
which he is afflicted. Moreover, forget not what great
things God hath done for you, and as some little return for
LETTER CLXVII. 503
it all, annul and undo what has here been done so much
amiss.
LETTER CLXVII. (A.I). 1138.)
To THE SAME, ON THE SAME SUBJECT.
Most gracious Father, did you not strictly enjoin that in
the Church of Langres some suitable and religious person
should be elected, with the advice of your son ? Did not
my lord of Lyons receive in person this same command
from your Apostolic mouth, which he was to carry out as
faithfully as it had been irrevocably given and frequently
impressed on him ? Did he not, moreover, promise to obey?
What, then, has made him endeavour to set aside what had
been most wisely and prudently determined, and to pre
sumptuously take another course which was not convenient,
to make your majesty contemptible, and my littleness a
laughing-stock ? How is it that this good man was not
ashamed to have " yea and nay" found in his mouth, and
to attempt to put so base a yoke on the necks of such a
large number of religious men who are your servants, con
trary to your command and his own promise? Ask, my
Father, ask diligently, what kind of repute this man, on
whom he is eager to lay his hands, bears, both with those
that are near and those that are far off. Very shame pre
vents me from saying what common rumour says of him,
nay, what his well-known evil reputation has made known
to the world. What can I say ? My soul is sorrowful even
unto death. Perhaps even now I should have fled away
had I not been kept back by the hope of the consolation
that I look for from your kindness. I had it in my mind
to write to you in order the distressing story of my misery ;
but my hand fails for very sadness, my mind clouds over,
my tongue shrinks from speaking of the iniquitous
treachery, the underhand dealing, the dishonesty, the
audacity, the perfidy. What is it, then ? Your son, Ponce
the Archdeacon, who has shown himself in this matter con
stant and faithful, will tell yau everything, my Father, both
504 LETTER CLXVIII.
what we grieve for as already done, and what we implore
may not be done. Trust him as myself. But this one
thing I must say from the midst of my pangs, that unless
these men are made to desist from their wicked and
audacious undertaking, I feel that, as I am now, my life
will fail in grief and my years in mourning.
LETTER CLXVIII. (A.D. 1138.)
TO THE BISHOPS AND CARDINALS OF THE ROMAN COURT
ON THE SAME SUBJECT.
i. You know, if you will deign to call it to your recollec
tion, what manner of life mine was with you in the time of
adversity, going out and coming in, and going forth at the
King s bidding, perseveringly remaining with you in your
temptations, so much so that my bodily strength was almost
exhausted, and it was with difficulty that I was able to return
home after God had given peace to the Church. I recall
all this not boastfully or reproachfully, but to urge and
implore you, to remind you, and to demand from you the
debt of pity that you owe me. My necessity now forces
me to appeal to all my debtors. But for myself, even if I
have done all that I ought, yet, according to the word of
the Lord, I reckon myself to be nothing else on that
account, than an unprofitable servant. Nevertheless, if I
did what was necessary or fit to be done, did I deserve to
be beaten for it ? And lo ! when I went from you, I found
trouble and anguish, and I called on the name of the Lord,
but it was to no purpose ; I called, too, on your name, but it
availed me nothing ; in truth, they that are as mighty gods
on the earth have highly exalted themselves ; I mean the
Archbishop of Lyons and the Abbot of Cluny. They,
trusting in their strength, and boasting themselves in the
multitude of their riches, have come near me, and stood
against me ; and not merely against me, but against a
great host of the servants of God, against you also, against
themselves, against all equity and honesty, against God.
LETTER CLXVIII. 505
2. In one word, they have placed a man over our heads,
whom, shameful to say, both the good abhor and the bad
laugh at. By what order, or, I should better say, how ex
traordinarily, they have acted, let God see and judge ;
let the Roman Court see ; let it see and grieve, let it have
compassion, and gird itself to punish the evil and show
honour to the good. Is it thy pleasure, O mistress of the
world, thou that hast been placed over all to execute
vengeance on the proud and to judge the oppressed, is it
thy pleasure that the poor should be consumed when the
wicked is lifted up, and the poor man too, who, when he
had no wealth to expend in thy service, spared not his
blood? Do you think it right that you should enjoy your
peace, and care nothing for mine, or that you should not
receive the partners of your toil to some share in the
reward ? If I have found grace in your sight, deliver the
helpless from the hand of them that are stronger than he,
the poor and needy from those that are robbing him.
Otherwise I for my part will labour as I can amidst my
grief, and my tears shall be my meat day and night; while
to you I will say that verse, He that ceases to have pity on
his friend forsakes the fear of the Lord (Job vi. 14), and
again, All my kinsmen stood afar off : and another also,
My lovers and my neighbours did stand looking upon my
trouble, and they also that sought after my life laid
snares for me (Ps. xxxviii. u, 12).
LETTER CLXIX. (A.D. 1138.)
To POPE INNOCENT, ON THE SAME SUBJECT.
Bernard explains why he has detained the clergy of
Langrcs who had been summoned to Rome ; and indicates
the persons to whom the election should be confided.
Your condescension has admitted me to intimacy, and
that intimacy has made me to presume. Let your wonted
kindness rule in your heart, lest haply my presumption
breed indignation. Yet hear patiently not only what I have
VOL. II. 33
506 LETTER CLXIX.
done, but why I did it ; perhaps the cause may in some
way excuse the deed. I ventured to keep back the clergy
of Langres who had been summoned to appear before you,
since peace had been made between them, and they had
been persuaded to act for the future in holding the election
according to your will and the counsel of good men, even
.as it is written in their letters. Moreover there was great
necessity for their not leaving just now, because of the
lands and possessions of the Church, which are given over
to be plundered and stolen, while there is none to guard or
defend them. And so, if it please you, let an order be
given to these men, since they are no longer under
suspicion, and since they seek not the things that are
their own, but those of Christ Jesus, that they elect one
who may be pleasing to God, that so this long-standing
and unhappy trouble of the Church may find at length
its endino-. What else remains to be said I have com-
<D *
mitted to Herbert, Abbot of S. Stephen s of Dijon, and
to the Archdeacon of Langres, and their companions. I
add, moreover, a prayer that you would receive under
your protection the Archdeacon of Langres and Bonami,
presbyter of the same Church, since they have shown
themselves faithful in God s cause. For the workman is
worthy of his hire (S. Luke x. 7).
LETTER CLXX. (A.D. 1138.)
TO LOUIS THE YOUNGER, 1 KlNG OF THE FRENCH.
He endeavours to defend the election of Geoffrey,, Prior
of Claim aux, to the See of Langres ; to which the King
had appeared adverse.
i Ordericus calls him Florus absolutely (lib. xi. p. 813.), Louis Florus more
than once (lib. xiii. pp. 910, 911)- ln the first passage L uis the Fat is said to
have made peace between Tedbald of Blois, and Ralph of Peronne, who were
at discord, and also to have entrusted the Kingdom of Gaul to his son Louis
Florus, whom three years before he had had crowned King at Rheims; and
this in the year 1135. In the last passage, on the year 1137, Louis being at
the point of death is said " to have entrusted Louis Florus his son to Tedbald,
Count Palatine, and Ralph, of Peronne, his kinsman."
LETTER CLXX. 507
i . If the whole world were to conjure me to join it in some
enterprise against your royal Majesty, I should still through
fear of God not dare lightly to offend a King ordained by
Him. Xor am I ignorant who it is that has said, Who
soever rcsisteth fhc power rcsisteth the ordinance of God
(Rom. xiii. 2). Nor yet do I forget how contrary is lying
to the Christian calling and still more so to my profession.
1 say the truth, I lie not ; what was done at Langres in
the matter of our Prior 1 was contrary to my expectation
and my intention and that of the Bishops. But there is One
who knows how to gain the assent of the unwilling, and
who compels, as He wills, the adverse wills of man to
subserve His counsel. Why should I not fear for him
whom I love as my own soul, that danger which I
have ever feared for myself ? Why should I not shrink
from the companionship of those who bind heavy burdens
and grievous to be borne, and lay them on men s shoulders,
but they themselves will not move them with one of their
fingers ? Still, what has been done, has been done ; nothing
against you, very much against me. The staff of my weak
ness has been taken from me, the light of mine eyes
removed from me, my right arm cut off. All these waves
and storms have gone over me. Wrath has swallowed me
up, and on no side do I see any way to escape. When I
fly from burdens, then I have them placed upon me to my
great discomfort. 1 feel that it is hard for me to kick
against the pricks. It would perhaps have been more
tolerable for a willing horse than for one that is restive and
1 This refers to Geoffrey, Bernard s kinsman, who after many disagreements
had been at length unanimously taken from being third Prior of Clairvaux to
be Bishop of Langres, A.D. 1 138 ; that is to say, when the schism was at an end.
For while Geoffrey was still Prior, Bernard wrote ep. 317, from Italy, within the
Octave of Pentecost of that year, in which after his return from Italy the affair
of this election at Langres took place, viz., when peace had been restored to the
Church, as ep. 166 expressly says. How highly Bernard valued Geoffrey is
evident from this epistle. Cf. also Life of S. llcrnartl (lib. ii. c. 5), and also
the Preface to the third book of the Life. The election of Geoffrey was at length
ratified A. n. 1 1.12, as we gather from a deed given by Perard (p. 134), where
the Church of S. Stephen of Dijon is said to have been consecrated by him A.n.
1141, "in the second year of his episcopate."
508 LETTER CLXX.
obstinate. For if there were any strength in me, would it
not be easier for me to bear these burdens on my own
shoulders than on those of others ?
2. But I yield to Him that disposeth otherwise, to con
tend with whom in wisdom or strength is neither prudent
nor possible for either me or the King. He is, indeed,
terrible among the kings of the earth. It is a terrible
thing to fall into the hands of the living God, even for you,
King. How grieved have I been to hear things of you
so contrary to the fair promise of your early days ! How
much more bitter will be the grief of the Church, after
having tasted first of such great joys, if, which God forbid,
she shall chance to be deprived of her pleasant hope of
protection under the shield of your good disposition, which
up to the present has been held over her. Alas ! the Virgin,
the Church of Rheims, has fallen, 1 and there is none to lift
her up. Langres, too, has fallen, and there is none to
stretch out the hand to help. May the goodness of God
divert your heart and mind from adding yet more to our
grief, and from heaping sorrow upon sorrow. Would that
1 may die before seeing a king of whom good things were
thought, and still better hoped for, endeavouring to go
against the counsel of God, stirring up against himself the
anger of the supreme Judge, bedewing the feet of the Father
of the fatherless with the tears of the afflicted, knocking at
heaven s door with the cries of the poor, the prayers of the
saints, and with the just complaints of Christ s beloved
Bride, the Church of the living God. May all this never
happen. I hope for better things, and expect things more
joyful. God will not forget to be gracious, nor shut up his
1 This was after the death of Archbishop Reginald, which happened A.D.
1 139, on January 13th. The Church of Rheims remained for nearly two years
without its shepherd, not through any dissension among the clergy in the elec
tion, but through the violent opposition of the citizens for the institution of the
" communia," as they called it, and the inborn hatred of Louis VII. against
Theobald, Count of Champagne, which showed itself also against the counts
and churches of the district. Cf. Bernard s complaint in ep. 318. Finally, on
Bernard refusing the dignity, Samson was elected, A.D. 1 140, who^e election was
for a time opposed, according to ep. 222. Cf. epp. 210 and 224.
LETTER CLXX. 509
loving kindness in displeasure. He will not make His
Church sad through him, and because of him, by whom He
has already made her so much to rejoice. By His long-
suffering He will preserve him whom He freely gave us,
and if you think anything otherwise, this also He will
reveal to you, and will teach your heart in wisdom. This is
my wish, this is my prayer night and day. Think this
of me, think it of my brethren. The truth shall not be
sinned against by us, nor the King s honour and the good of
his kingdom diminished.
3. We give thanks to your clemency for the kindly
answer which you deigned to send us. But still we are
terrified to delay, as we see the land given over to plunder
and robbery. The land is yours ; and we plainly see and
mourn the disgrace brought on your kingdom by your
orders that we should abstain from our rights, inasmuch as
there is no one to defend them. For in what else that has
been done can the king s majesty be truly said to have
been diminished ? The election was duly held ; the person
elected is faithful, which he would not be if he wished to
hold your lands otherwise than through you. He has not
yet stretched out his hand to your lands, he has not yet
entered your city, he has not yet put himself forward in
any affair, though most earnestly pressed to do so by the
united voice of clergy and people, by the oppression of the
afflicted, and by the prayers of all good men. And since
this is the state of affairs there is, you see, need for counsel
to be quickly taken, not less for the sake of your honour
than our necessity. And unless your Serenity give answer
according to their petition, by the messengers who bring
this, to your faithful people who look to you, the hearts of
many religious men who are now devoted to you will be
turned against you (which would not be expedient), and I
fear that no little loss will accrue to the regalia belonging
to the Church, which yet are yours.
510 LETTER CLXXI.
LETTER CLXXI. (A.D. 1139.)
To POPE INNOCENT.
On behalf of Falco, Archbishop elect of Lyons.
I think that I, who have so many times been listened to-
in the affairs of others, shall not be confounded in my own.
I, my lord, hold the cause of my Archbishop to be my
own, being a member of him, and knowing that there is
nothing that affects the head but what touches me, which,,
nevertheless, I would not say if the man had taken this
honour to himself, and had not been called by God, as was
Moses. Nor can I think that it was the work of any but
Him that the votes of so many men were so readily given
him, that there w r as not even any hesitation, still less
opposition. And deservedly so. He is distinguished not
only for his high birth, but also for the nobility of his
mind, for his knowledge, and his irreproachable life. In
short, the integrity of his name fears not the tooth even of
a foe. What, therefore, has been so done for so good a
man is surely w r orthy to obtain the favour of the Apostolic
See, the fulness of honour, 1 which is the only thing now
lacking, to increase the joy of its people that has grown
accustomed to its kindness, or, I may say, to the liberality
which he has fully deserved. This is what the whole
Church, with most earnest supplication, implores ; this is
what your son, with his usual presumption, entreats of you.
LETTER CLXXII. (A.D. 1139.)
To THE SAME, IN THE NAME OF GODFREY, BISHOP OF
LANGRES.
He expresses the same thought as in the preceding Letter,
Amidst the numerous evils which nowadays are seen in
the churches on the occasion of elections the Lord hath
looked down from heaven upon our Mother Church of
1 I.e., the pallium. [E.]
LETTER CLXXII. 511
Lyons, and has without strife given it a worthy successor
to Peter of pious memory, its Archbishop, in the person of
Falco, its Dean. I ask, my lord, that he who has been
unanimously elected by his fellows, promoted for the good
of all, and duly consecrated, may receive at your hands the
fulness of honour that belongs to his office. And what
makes me seek this is not so much consciousness of his
merits, but of my duty duty laid upon me not only by the
metropolitan dignity of that Church, but because I am
placed in this position in order that I may bear my testimony
to the truth.
LETTER CLXXIII. (A.D. 1139.)
TO THE ABOVE-NAMED FALCO.
Bernard recommends to him the interests of certain
Religions.
The Lord Bishop and I have written, as we thought we
ought to do, to my lord the Pope on your behalf, and you
have a copy of your letters. It is our determination to stand
by you with all our might, because of the good which we
hope for from you for the Church. It concerns you so to>
act that we may not be disappointed of our hope. For the
rest, if 1 have found favour in your sight I pray you think
of those poor and needy ones at the house of Benissons
Dieu. 1 Whatsoever you do to one of them you will do to
me, nay, to Christ. For they are both poor, and they live
amongst the poor. I especially implore you to prevent the
monks of Savigny from molesting them, for they are
calumniating them unjustly, as I consider. Or if they
think that they have justice on their side, judge between
them. I ask also that my son, Abbot Alberic, though
well deserving of your favour through his own merits, may
1 Benissons Dieu was a Cistercian Abbey, an offshoot of Clairvaux, in the
Diocese of Lyons, and was founded A.D. 1158. Alberic was its first Abbot.
Not far from it was the monastery of Savigny, of the order of S. Benedict, in
the same diocese. Its Abbot was Itcrius, of whom Bernard here complains.
512 LETTER CLXXIV.
still be in even greater regard through my recommendation.
For I love him tenderly, as a mother loves her only child,
and he that loveth me will love him. In fact, I shall find
out whether you care for me by the way you treat him.
For the farther he is away from me the more necessary is it
that he should have consolation from your fatherly care.
LETTER CLXXIV. (Circa A.n. 1140.)
To THE CANONS OF LYONS, ON THE CONCEPTION OF
S. MARY.
Bernard states that the Festival of the Conception was
new ; that it rested on no legitimate foundation ; and that
it should not have been instituted without consulting the
Apostolic Sec, to whose opinion he submits.
i. It is well known that among all the Churches of
France that of Lyons is first in importance, whether we
regard the dignity of its See, its praiseworthy regulations,
or its honourable zeal for learning. Where was there ever
the vigour of discipline more flourishing, a more grave
and religious life, more consummate wisdom, a greater
weight of authority, a more imposing antiquity ? Especially
in the Offices of the Church, that of Lyons has always shown
itself opposed to attempts at sudden innovation, and it is a
proof of her fulness of judgment that she has never suffered
herself to be stained with the mark of rash and hasty levity.
Wherefore I cannot but wonder that there should have been
among you at this time some who wished to sully this
splendid fame of your Church by introducing a new Festival,
a rite which the Church knows nothing of, and which
reason does not prove, nor ancient tradition hand down to
us. Have we the pretension to be more learned or more
devoted than the Fathers ? It is a dangerous presumption
to establish in such a matter what their prudence left un-
established. And the matter in question is of such a nature
that it could not possibly have escaped the diligence of the
LETTER CLXXIV. 513
Fathers if they had not thought that they ought not to
occupy themselves with it.
j. The Mother of the Lord, you say, ought greatly to be;
honoured. You say well, but the honour of a queen loves
justice. The royal Virgin does not need false honour,
since she is amply supplied with true titles to honour and
badges of her dignity. Honour indeed the purity of her
flesh, the sanctity of her life, wonder at her motherhood
as a virgin, adore her Divine offspring. Extol the prodigy
by which she brought into the world without pain the
Son, whom she had conceived without concupiscence.
Proclaim her to be reverenced by the angels, to have been
desired by the nations, to have been known beforehand by
Patriarchs and Prophets, chosen by God out of all women
and raised above them all. Magnify her as the medium by
whom grace was displayed, the instrument of salvation, the
restorer of the ages ; and finally extol her as having been
exalted above the choirs of angels to the celestial realms.
These things the Church sings concerning her, and has
taught me to repeat the same things in her praise, and
what I have learnt from the Church I both hold securely
myself and teach to others; \Uiat I have not received from
the Church I confess I should with great difficulty admit-
I have received then from the Church that day to be
reverenced with the highest veneration, when being taken
up from this sinful earth, she made entry into the heavens;
a festival of most honoured joy. With no less clearness
have I learned in the Church to celebrate the birth of the
Virgin, and from the Church undoubtedly to hold it to have
been holy and joyful ; holding most firmly with the Church,
that she received in the womb that she should come into
the world holy. And indeed I read concerning Jeremiah,
that before he came forth from the womb [vent re : other
wise dc -vulva} he was sanctified, and I think no otherwise
ol John the Baptist, who. himself in the womb of his
mother, felt the presence of his Lord in the womb (S. Luke
i. 41). It is matter for consideration whether the same
opinion may not be held of holy David, on account of what
5H LETTER CLXXIV.
he said in addressing God : In Thee I have been
strengthened from tlie womb : Thou art He who took me
out of my mother s bowels (Ps. Ixxi. 6) ; and again : / was
cast upon Thee from the womb : Thou art my God from
my mother s belly (Ps. xxii. 10). And Jeremiah is thus
addressed : Before I formed thec in the belly I knew thee ;
and before thou earnest out of the womb I sanctified thee
(Jer. i. 5). How beautifully the Divine oracle has dis
tinguished between conception in the womb and birth from
the womb ! and showed that if the one was foreseen only,
the other was blessed beforehand with the gift of holiness :
that no one might think that the glory of Jeremiah consisted
only in being the object of the foreknowledge of God, but
also of His predestination.
3. Let us, however, grant this in the case of Jeremiah.
What shall be said of John the Baptist, of whom an angel
announced beforehand that he should be filled with the
Holy Ghost, even from his mother s womb? I cannot
suppose that this is to be referred to predestination or to
foreknowledge. For the words of the angel were without
doubt fulfilled in their time, as he foretold ; and the man
(as cannot be doubted) filled with the Holy Ghost at the
time and place appointed, as he predicted. But most cer
tainly the Holy Ghost sanctified the man whom He filled.
But how far this sanctilication availed against original sin,
whether for him, or for that prophet, or for any other who
was thus prevented by grace, I would not rashly deter
mine. But of these holy persons whom God has sanctified,,
and brought forth from the womb with the same sanctifica-
tion which they have received in the womb, I do not hesi
tate to say that the taint of original sin which they
contracted in conception, could not in any manner take
away or fetter by the mere act of birth, the benediction
already bestowed. Would any one dare to say that a child
filled with the Holy Ghost, would remain notwithstanding
a child of wrath ; and if he had died in his mother s womb r
where he had received this fulness of the Spirit, would
endure the pains of damnation? That opinion is very
LETTER CLXXIV. 515
severe ; I, however, do not dare to decide anything re
specting the question by my own judgment. However
that may be, the Church, which regards and declares, not
the nativity, but only the death of other saints as precious,
makes a singular exception for him of whom an angel
singularly said, and many shall rejoice in his birth (S. Luke
i. 14, 15), and with rejoicing honours his nativity. For
why should not the birth be holy, and even glad and joyful,
of one who leaped with joy even in the womb of his
mother?
4. The gift, therefore, which has certainly been conferred
upon some, though few, mortals, cannot for a moment be
supposed to have been denied to that so highly favoured
Virgin, through whom the whole human race came forth into
life. Beyond doubt the mother of the Lord also was holy
before birth ; nor is holy Church at all in error in account
ing the day of her nativity holy, and celebrating it each
year with solemn and thankful joy. I consider that the
blessing of a fuller sanctification descended upon her, so as
not only to sanctify her birth, but also to keep her life pure
from all sin ; which gift is believed to have been bestowed
upon none other borne of women. This singular privilege
of sanctity, to lead her life without any sin, entirely befitted
the queen of virgins, who should bear the Destroyer of sin
and death, who should obtain the gift of life and righteous
ness for all. Therefore, her birth was holy, since the
abundant sanctity bestowed upon it made it holy even from
the womb.
5. What addition can possibly be made to these honours?
That her conception, also, they say, which preceded her
honourable birth, should be honoured, since if the one had
nut first taken place, neither would the other, which is
honoured. But what if some one else, following a similar
train of reasoning, should assert that the honours of a
festival ought to be given to each of her parents, then to
her grandparents, and then to their parents, and so on ait
infinitum ? Thus we should have festivals without number.
Such a frequency of joys befits Heaven, not this state of exile.
LETTER CLXXIV.
It is the happy lot of those who dwell there, not of strangers
and pilgrims. But a writing is brought forward, given, as
they say, by revelation from on high, 1 as if anyone would
not be able to bring forward another writing in which the
Virgin should seem to demand the same honours to her
parents also, saying, according to the commandment of the
Lord, Honour thy father and thy mother (Exod. xx. 12).
I easily persuade myself not to be influenced by such
writings, which are supported neither by reason nor by
any certain authority. For how does the consequence
follow that since the conception has preceded the birth,
and the birth is holy, the conception should be considered
holy also ? Did it make the birth holy because it preceded
it ? Although the one came first that the other might be,
yet not that it might be holy. From whence came that
holiness to the conception which was to be transmitted to
the birth which followed ? Was it not rather because the
conception preceded without holiness that it was needful
for the being conceived to be sanctified, that a holy birth
might then follow ? Or shall we say that the birth which
was later than the conception shared with it its holiness ?
It might be, indeed, that the sanctification which was
worked in her when conceived passed over to the birth
which followed ; but it could not be possible that it should
have- a retrospective effect upon the conception which had
preceded it.
6. Whence, then, was the holiness of that conception ?
Shall it be said that Mary was so prevented by grace that,
being holy before being conceived, she was therefore con
ceived without sin ; or that, being holy before being born,
she has therefore communicated holiness to her birth ? But
in order to be holy it is necessary to exist, and a person
does not exist before being conceived. Or perhaps, when
her parents were united, holiness was mingled with the
conception itself, so that she was at once conceived and
sanctified. But this is not tenable in reason. For how
1 A writing of this kind is attributed to an English abbot named Elsin in the
works of Anselra, pp. 505, 507 of the new edition.
LETTER CLXX1V. 517
can there be sanctity without the sanctifying Spirit, or the
co-operation of the Holy Spirit with sin ? Or how could
there not be sin where concupiscence was not wanting ?
Unless, perhaps, some one will say that she was conceived
by the Holy Spirit, and not by man, which would be a thing
hitherto unheard of. I say, then, that the Holy Spirit came
upon her, not within her, as the Angel declared : The Holy
Spirit shall come upon thcc (S. Luke i. 35). And if it is
permitted to say what the Church thinks, and the Church
thinks that which is true, I say that she conceived by the
Holy Spirit, but not that she was conceived by Him ; that
she was at once Mother and Virgin, but not that she was
born of a virgin. Otherwise, where will be the prerogative
of the Mother of the Lord, to have united in her person the
glory of maternity and that of virginity, if you give the
same glory to her mother also ? This is not to honour the
Virgin, but to detract from her honour. If, therefore, before
her conception she could not possibly be sanctified, since
she did not exist, nor in the conception itself, because of
the sin which inhered in it, it remains to be believed that
she received sanctification when existing in the womb after
conception, which, by excluding sin, made her birth holy,
but not her conception.
7. Wherefore, although it has been given to some, though
few, of the sons of men to be born with the gift of sanctity,
yet to none has it been given to be ^conceived with it. So
that to One alone should be reserved this privilege, to Him
who should make all holy, and coming into the world, He
alone, without sin should make an atonement for sinners.
The Lord Jesus, then, alone was conceived by the Holy
Ghost, because He alone was holy before He was conceived,
lie being excepted, all the children- of Adam are in the
same case as he who confessed of himself with great
humility and truth, / was shapcn in iniquity, and in sin
hath my mother conceived me (Ps. li. 6).
8. And as this is so, what ground can there be for a
Festival of the Conception of the Virgin ? On what
principle, I say, is either a conception asserted to be holy
5 l LETTER CLXXIV.
which is not by the Holy Ghost, not to say that it is by sin,
or a festival be established which is in no wise holy ?
Willingly the glorious Virgin will be without this honour,
by which either a sin seems to be honoured or a sanctity
supposed which is not a fact. And, besides, she will by no
means be pleased by a presumptuous novelty against the
custom of the Church, a novelty which is the mother of
rashness, the sister of superstition, the daughter of levity.
For if such a festival seemed advisable, the authority of the
Apostolic See ought first to have been consulted, and the
simplicity of inexperienced persons ought not to have been
followed so thoughtlessly and precipitately. And, indeed,
I had before noted that error in some persons ; but I
appeared not to take notice of it, dealing gently with a
devotion which sprang from simplicity of heart and love of
the Virgin. But now that the superstition has taken hold
upon wise men, and upon a famous and noble Church, of
which I am specially the son, 1 I know not whether I could
longer pass it over without gravely offending you all. But
what I have said is in submission to the judgment of who
soever is wiser than myself ; and especially I refer the
whole of it, as of all matters of a similar kind, to the
authority and decision of the See of Rome, and I am
prepared to modify my opinion if in anything I think
otherwise than that See.
LETTER CLXXV. (A.D. 1135.)
To THE PATRIARCH OF JERUSALEM. 2
Having received many letters from him, Bernard
replies in a friendly manner, and praises the soldiers
of the Temple.
1 The Church of Lyons was the Mother Church of Bernard because of its
"metropolitan rights," as he himself says in Letter 172, since he was born at
Fontaines, near Dijon, and lived at the monastery of Clairvaux, both of which
places were in the Diocese of Langres and Province of Lyons.
2 William a Gallo-Belgian, and a monk of Tours, was Patriarch of Jerusalem
from A.D. 1 130 to A.D. 1 145. See, for more information about him, the history of
the Blessed Mary of Fountains (Spicilegium, Vol. x. p. 3^9), where there is a
LETTER CLXXV. 519
I shall seem ungrateful if I do not reply to the many
patriarchal letters which you have vouchsafed me. But
what more can I do than salute him who has saluted me ?
For you have prevented me with the blessings of goodness,
you have graciously set me tin; example of sending letters
across the sea, you have deprived me of the first share of
humility and charity. What fitting return can I now make?
In truth, you have left me nothing which in my turn I can
give back; for even of your worldly treasures you have
been careful to make me a sharer in giving me part of the
Cross of the Lord. What then ? Ought 1 to omit what I
can do because I cannot do what I ought? I show you my
affection at least and my goodwill by merely replying and
returning your salutation, which is all that I can do at
O J
present, separated as we are by so great a tract of sea and
land. I will show, if ever I have the opportunity, that I
love not in word or in tongue, but in deed and in truth.
Give a thought, I pray you, to the soldiers of the Temple,
and of your great piety take care of these zealous defenders
of the Church. If you cherish those who have devoted
their lives for their brethren s sake you will do a thing
acceptable to God and well-pleasing to man. Concerning
the place to which you invite me, my brother Andrew 1 will
tell you my mind.
desciiption of the relics sent by him to Fountains through Lambert, a monk of
the place. Onlericus says at the end of his thirteenth book : " In the year ii2S
died Germumius. Patriarch of Jerusalem. After him succeeded Stephen of
Chartres, who reigned in holy Sion for two years ; after him came William of
Flanders." The same author mentions a Ralph as Patriarch. But certainly,
on the authority of William of Tyre, William buried King- Baldwin A.D. 1142,
and was succeeded by Fulcher in 114:. Either William had two appellations
or Ordericus has made a mistake. Letter ^03 was written also to the same
Patriarch.
1 Was this Andrew the uncle of S. Bernard, one of the Knights Templars,
to whom Letter 288 was written ? or was it his brother, a monk of Clairvaux,
mentioned in the 1841!! Letter? or Andrew of Baudiment, mentioned in
Letter 226, n. 2 ? The place mentioned here may be the one conceded to the
Praemonstratensians by Bernard. See Letter 252.
LETTER CLXXVI.
LETTER CLXXVI. (Circa A.D. 1135.)
To POPE INNOCENT, IN THE PERSON OF ALBERO, ARCH
BISHOP OF TREVES. 1
Bernard declares in the name of the Archbishop his
own respect and obedience and that of t/ic citramontane
Churches towards Innocent.
It has long been the wish of my heart, -and my eager
desire, to pay you a visit, and see the welcome face of your
Blessedness, and to know, moreover, more certainly how
things are with you, and in turn to acquaint you more
closely with my own affairs ; and this motive has been long
pressing and ceaselessly urging me to make a journey to
you. But having been hindered by the wickedness of the
world and of the times, and also, besides my daily troubles,
by some matter important to you, I have not yet been able,
nor am I even yet able to carry out my wish. But must a
purpose that is sound and righteous be altogether given up
because it cannot be wholly carried out ? I have determined,
therefore, to satisfy in some degree in the meantime the
desire I have so long felt, and to make known to you my
anxiety, by means of this venerable man, Hugh, Archdeacon
of the Church of Toul. Nor could anyone be more faithful,
more devoted, or more cautious than he in matters of
importance, whether in bringing to you what I charge him
with, or in bringing back to me whatever matters you may
have been pleased to entrust to him. I desire, then, and
implore you to inform me more fully in your goodness, of
the state of the Court, of the safety of your person, and if
by the Divine goodness any more favourable breeze has
perchance blown upon the Church in her struggles against
the wanton but ineffectual madness of the schismatics.
For the rest you know that the Church on this side of the
Alps, both here and in the realm of France, is strong in the
faith, peaceful in unity, devoted in its obedience to you,
1 Letter 30 was addressed to him when at Metz, when he was made Arch
bishop of Treves. In the same Letter he is called "archangel of Treves."
LKTTER CLXXVI. 521
ready for your service. The loss of Beneventum, of
Capua, nay, if God so will it, of Rome herself cannot
terrify me; knowing that the position of the Church is not
to be estimated by arms but by merits. Of her and of no
other we recognize those words in the Psalm : Though an
host should encamp against me my heart shall not fear, and
though there rose up war against me yet will I put my trust
in Him (Ps. xxvii. 3). Therefore we, because we are of
the Church, will not fear while the earth is troubled and the
mountains removed into the midst of the sea. The Sicilian
tyrant may boast himself as much as he pleases, he may boast
in wickedness because he is powerful in iniquity, but our
strength is made perfect in weakness. Paul has learned
that the weaker the Church is the more powerful she is
(2 Cor. xii. 10). He has learnt directly and from Solomon
that the prosperity of fools slays them (Prov. i. 32). He
has learned when he sees a fool flourishing, to curse his
beauty immediately (Job v. 3). Therefore with holy David
he consoles himself in both ways, viz., in the fall of his
enemies and in his own liberation. He says, indeed, They
put their trust in chariots and in horses, but we will call on
the Name of the Lord our God. They are brought down
and fallen, but we are risen and stand upright (Ps. xx.
7, 8). These few words on matters about which I am quite
sure, I thought ought to be addressed to you by faithful
testimony in the way of comfort ; to relieve in some degree
that anxiety which the care of all the churches incessantly
brings upon you. I add this also, that the king, 1
God strengthening him, is zealous, and is making ready
for the liberation of the Church, and is collecting an ex
ceedingly great army ; and that I also am labouring for
this end with all my strength, and am exhorting and stirring
up every one that I can. When the time comes I will
spare neither expense nor my own person.
1 The Emeror Lothaire.
VOL. ii. 34
522 LETTER CLXXVII.
LETTER CLXXVII. (Circa A.D. 1139.)
To THE SAME, IN THE PERSON OF THE SAME.
He complains of the pastoral charge laid upon him. He
is hindered in its discharge by the envy of certain persons,
not without fault in the Pope himself.
Did I ever seek the episcopate from you, my lord ? And
if ever I aspired to a bishopric it was certainly not that of
Treves. For I knew it to be an exasperating house, a
stiff-necked people. I hated them because they had always
wallowed in discord, and always resisted the Church. For
her if I have ever undergone any labours I grieve not, but I
never hoped or wished for any such fruit as this. I have
laboured arduously, but willingly, and not with any hope of
reward. I have been assigned for my sins a difficult
province. Amongst my other troubles there is this, that my
suffragans are young and nobly born. 1 They ought to be
assistants, and would that they were not opponents. But I
pass this by. I prefer that their characters and pursuits be
made known to you by another, if you are ignorant of
them. Still, I say that law, right, integrity, and religion
have perished out of our episcopates. The evil, which
the duty I owe to my office will not allow me to conceal, I
have briefly pointed out, that what it does not please your
providence should be corrected by me may, at all events, be
made known to you who can correct it, lest I seem altogether
to bear in vain the name of archbishop. And, indeed, it
would have been better for me not to have ascended my
throne than thus shamefully to descend. But what does it
matter about myself ? Let me suffer what I deserve,
inasmuch as I do amiss. Let me be, as I am, a scorn to my
friends, who have been frustrated of the hope which they
had conceived about me in wishing me to preside over
them, whilst they see that the dignity of the Church is by
1 Viz., Stephen of Metz, from A.D 1120, sister s son to Calixtus II.; Albero
of Verdun, from A.D. 1126, son of Arnulf, Count of Chisney ; Henry of Toul,
from A.D. 1 124, son of Theodoric, Duke of Lorraine. Many praiseworthy actions
are recorded of them all.
LETTER CLXXVIII. 523
me rather diminished, instead of its old losses being
repaired, as they had expected they would be. All these
tilings I bear patiently, if not willingly, that I may not seem
to kick against the obedience I owe you, for which I confess
I am willing, if need be, to lay down my life. But I wish
ihat you would carefully consider this, that injury done to
the thing created reflects on the creator. The strength
which you withdraw from me you rob yourself of, and my
scorn and helplessness casts disgrace on you. I have many
things to complain of to you about yourself, but I leave
them to be explained by the messenger, whom I know to be
diligent and faithful for this purpose. I tell you also that
we are in danger amongst false brethren. The ambassadors
of the schismatics come and go to some of our supporters
more freely than they used to, and the messages of the
.Sicilian tyrant are admitted frequently.
LETTER CLXXVIII. (A.D. 1139.)
To THE SAME, ON BEHALF OF THE SAME.
He complains t/iat some evil-disposed persons abuse
their powers to tJie injury of tlie Church, while zealous
prelates are powerless.
To his most loving Father and Lord, INNOCENT, Supreme
Pontiff, his BERNARD writes in entire devotedness.
i. I write confidently because I love faithfully. For that
is no sincere love which cherishes doubt, and retains the
<lregs of suspicion. The complaint of my Lord of Treves
is not his alone, but of many, and of those especially who
love you with a more sincere affection. The one cry of all
who faithfully preside over the flock among us is that
justice in the Church is perishing, that the keys of the
Church are mere ornaments, that the Episcopal authority
is altogether become vile, since no one of the Bishops is
able to avenge the wrongs done to God, nor is allowed to
punish for misdeeds, however glaring, no, not even in his
524 LETTER CLXXVIII.
own diocese. They refer the cause to you and to the
Roman Curia. You annul, they say, what they have rightly
established, and establish what they have justly annulled.
All the evil and quarrelsome men, whether from the clergy
or the monasteries, hasten to you when they are expelled,
and then return and boast, and rejoice that they have
obtained as protectors those whom they ought to have felt
as their chastisers. Was not the sword of Phinees most
promptly and righteously unsheathed to punish the in
cestuous alliance of Drosro and Milis ? But it returned to
O
Its sheath dulled and blunted, being met by the shield of an
Apostolic defence. Alas ! w r hat ridicule has this caused,,
and is still causing, among the enemies of the Church, and
especially among those very men who have made us
wander out of the right way through fear or favour. Our
friends are confounded, the faithful are insulted, the Bishops
everywhere come into shame and contempt. And when
their just judgments are contemned your authority is also
diminished.
2. It is these very men who are zealous for your
honour, who labour faithfully, if fruitlessly, for your peace
and exaltation. Why do you lessen their influence ? why
do you weaken their power ? For how long will you
blunt the weapons of those who are faithfully fighting
for you, and lower the standards raised in defence of your
power and safety ? The Church of S. Gengulph at Toul
grievously bewails her desolation, and there is none to
comfort her. For who can oppose himself to the stroke of
a powerful arm, to the force of a torrent, to the decision
of the Supreme Power? The Church of S. Paul at Verdun 1
complains that it suffers the same violence, as the Arch-
1 The monastery of S. Paul of Verdun, of the Order of Benedictines, having
relaxed the bonds of discipline, had fallen into great license; and therefore
Albero II., Bishop of Verdun, who had succeeded Ursio in the year 1131, had it
transferred to the Praemonstratensians, with the approval of Pope Innocent.
The monks of the place for a long time withstood the change ; and even Peter
the Venerable, generally a most retiring man, warmly expostulated with
Matthew, Bishop of Albano. Innocent, somewhat shaken by their complaints,
was preparing to rehear the cause, but was persuaded by S. Bernard to let the
matter stand ; and he, therefore, confirmed by letter what Albero had done.
l.KTTKR CLXXVI1I. 525
bishop has now no power to defend it against the violence of
the monks ; and as though they were not outrageous enough,
they are further supported by the Apostolic See. What
fresh reason, I ask, has been found why that should again
come into court and be brought under discussion which has
been once granted, wisely and without question, to canons
of good fame and life, then confirmed and, as they say,
again renewed ? Indeed, the establishment of both those
places above mentioned is said to have been first sanctioned
by you, and yet is now revoked. With such sacrifices God
is not well-pleased. Alas ! His anger is not turned away,
His grace is not won, His mercy is not called forth. For
these and such things the wrath of the Lord is not yet
averted ; but His arm is stretched out still, and the rod
mentioned by Jeremiah is ever ready for our sins.
3. In truth, God is wroth with the schismatics; but He is by
no means well-pleased with the Catholics. The Church of
Metz is, as you have found, in danger, through a grievous
quarrel between the Bishop and the clergy. You know
what it may be your pleasure to decide about it ; but there
is there no peace yet, nor is it hoped for in the near future.
I (not to conceal what seems best to my unworthiness)
think that this and the troubles of the Churches of Toul and
Verdun can be most safely and conveniently settled by the
Metropolitan, who knows all the facts, has had great ex
perience, and by the testimony of the Church has been found
faithful. Moreover, think what evil you are inflicting on
those two dioceses of Toul and Metz ; x for, to speak truth,
1 The charges brought here by S. Bernar.l against the Bishops of Metz and
Toul are to be understood of Stephen of Metz and Henry of Toul, since this
Letter was written during the schism of Anacletus, about the year i 135. The
first Appendix of the History of Ike. Bishops of MtU speaks of Stephen as
follows : " Stephen, illustrious for his birth, still more illustrious for his virtue
and uprightness, succeeded Poppo as Bishop of the Burgundians and Lorrainers
in A.I). 1120, the second year of Calixtus II. Henry V. was at that time
Kmperor, and owing to the contest between the Church and State, refused to
put him in possession of his See; and accordingly Stephen was consecrated at
Rome by the Supreme Pontiff, and honoured with the pall and title of Cardinal.
It is not easy to conjecture why S. Bernard complains of him so bitterly. For
besides the quotation above, we also find it said of him in the same History :
" If I were to try to reckon up and record the good deeds done by him and
526 LETTER CLXXVIII.
they seem to be without Bishops, and 1 would that they
were without tyrants. When such men are protected, sup
ported, honoured, cherished, many are greatly amazed and
scandalized ; since they most surely know of that in their
characters and lives, which in any of the laity, to say nothing
of a Bishop, should be severely censured and execrated.
What it is I should be ashamed to write, and it would not
befit you to read. Be it so, that without an accuser they
cannot be deposed, yet why should those whom common
rumour accuses be honoured, and yet further exalted, with
the special favour of the Apostolic See ?
4. For by what merit of his own, whether of his sanctity
as priest, or honour as bishop, has the Bishop of Metz
obtained leave to quash, together with the liberty of
the Church, at his mere bidding, an election duly made
by the Canons, and to have the Primicerius l elected
on his recommendation against the privileges of the
Church ? 2 W^ould it not be more just and honest, if
worthy to be handed down I should have more matter than paper." Nay, S.
Bernard himself, in his 2(;th Letter, congratulates him on the restoration of
peace to the Church at Metz, and in Letter 367 commends him to Guido, the
Chancellor. It is possible that Stephen may have displeased S. Bernard
through having stirred up several contests, caused cities to be besieged, and
castles to be destroyed in trying to recover the goods of the Church which had
been stolen by the nobles. It was things of this sort, as described in the same
History, which made S. Bernard call him, in Letter 230, " a lion rather than a
shepherd of the sheep." When Albero was chosen for the Bishopric of Lie ge,
in the year 1135, and the Canons had duly chosen a successor to him, Stephen
attempted to intrude a nominee of his own. Thence ensued a bitter strife which
Innocent endeavoured to put an end to directly, passing over the jurisdiction of
the Metropolitan, the Archbishop of Treves. It is this that S. Bernard here
complains of. As far as Henry of Toul is concerned, perhaps S. Bernard was
in the same way badly informed about the protracted negotiations with respect
to war carried on with Frederick, Count of Toul, and at length brought to an
end m the year 1 136.
1 With respect to this title, see Note on Letter 30. [E.]
- The Archbishop of Treves claimed for himself the monastery of S. Maxi-
min, near Treves, against the Abbot and monks. On the othtr hand, Henry,
Count of Luxembourg, endeavoured to claim obedience to himself in temporal
matters as the advocate of the monastery. This claim caused strife, led to war
and great slaughter on both sides. This explains S. Bernard s allusion when he
says that the Archbishop had recovered the Church s goods, and had freed the
captive Church from a lay-hand.
LETTKR CLXXVIII. 527
it should seem good to your discretion, that a man worthy
of greater honour should not be deprived of that which is
deservedly his own ? I mean the Archbishop of Treves,
whom, to the great indignation of many who fear God, you
have excluded from ending these and other matters in his
diocese, as though he were under suspicion, or were inex
perienced. Believe your faithful servant that, as far as I
have found, this is wholly injurious to that province.
5. In writing these things I should fear the charge of pre
sumption if I knew not to whom I am writing, and who I am
that write. But I know your natural gentleness, and I feel
assured that you know both me and the disposition with
which I venture on these matters with you, my most sweet
and loving father. One word more with regard to the Arch
bishop; in order that you may know how his messenger ought
to be regarded, I may mention to you that he holds a high
position in that realm, that he is a man faithful and constant
to you and the Church of God, and gives no countenance to
our ill-wishers, and to those who would overturn you, by
whom he is frequently and sorely tempted ; and that we shall
be derided if by any chance he should not be listened toby
you. I wished lastly to commend the messenger to you,
but the merit of his honesty sufficiently commends him,
and especially his exceeding love and faithful devotion to
you. Indeed, if I thought he had not this, I would by no
means send by his hand such private letters.
LETTER CLXXIX. (A.D. 1139.)
To THK SAME, ON BEHALF OK THE SAME.
He maintains the cause of Albero, Archbishop of Treves,
against flic Abbot of S. Maximin and his rebellious
monks.
Is it possible that wickedness can thus overcome wisdom ?
You know, holy Father, you know the Archbishop of
Treves. I am sure that you know him. But do you know
528 LETTER CLXXIX.
also that unholy Abbot of the holy Maximin? I suspect
that you do not. Who is worthier of honour than the first?
Who more deserving of shame than the second ? Yet the
latter has been honoured, the former given to reproach.
How has the Archbishop sinned ? He has recovered the
goods plundered from his Church, he has freed his captive
Church from lay-hands. Why is evil returned him for his
good, and hatred for his goodwill ? Let your loving eye, I
pray you, rest on this ; lay aside for a moment your other
occupations, and consider what he has been robbed of; that
such a man as the one I am ashamed to say what he is
should hold up to scorn to his neighbours and enemies such
a man as yourself know the Archbishop to be. Holy
Father, it is filial affection which speaks. So far I have
sympathized with the unhappy and much-to-be-pitied Arch
bishop. But if after this, this injustice is not rectified, the
grief of my heart, and my deep compassion will wholly
pass over to him by whom it could have been rectified.
There are other wrongs done to the same man, and in
alleviating them you will undoubtedly be labouring for
yourself. Whatever stains the name of my most sweet
Lord pierces my heart.
LETTER CLXXX. (Circa A.D. 1136.)
To THE SAME ON BEHALF OF THE SAME.
He commends to the Pontiff the cause of the Archbishop
of Treves.
Again supplication and prayers, though ten times re
peated, shall not cease. I desist not because I distrust not.
I have a good cause and a just judge, who will not hesitate
to annul whatever has been stealthily gained, when the
truth is evident, so that he who wished to scoff will not be
able to find cause for his malicious humour, but as it is
written, His iniquity deceived himself (Ps. xxvi. 12,
VULG.). The Apostolic See is wont to have this virtue
especially, that it is not ashamed to recall a grant when it
LETTER CLXXX. 52Q
has discovered it to have been extracted by fraud, and not
to be truly deserved. It is most just and praiseworthy that
no one should benefit by a lie, especially at the hand of the
supreme and holy See. Knowing this, your son supplicates
without fear on behalf of the Archbishop of Treves, and is
thus urgent, not as uncertainly. I certainly know his merits,
his cause, his mind. For which of these do his monks wish
to stone him ? Because he has deserved ill of them ? But
he faithfully helped them, and served them greatly. For
the injustice of his cause? But no one but an unjust man
will speak of him as unjust. Because he freed them from
a lay-hand ? Nay, he recovered their monastery for tin-
episcopal See, as though wringing his club out of the hand
of Hercules with a stronger hand. Is it because of the
wickedness of his intention ? But it is a pious deed to do
as he intended, viz., to reform religion in a monastery.
The Lord help the heart of my lord, that it may not again
be stolen away by monks, who are not so much, as they
pretend, seeking liberty, but really flying from discipline.
LETTER CLXXXI. (Circa A.D. 1136.)
To THE CHANCELLOR HAIMERIC.
He protests his gratitude for the benefits he has received.
If I wished to repay you in words for the good deeds
with which you overwhelm me it would be as if one,
attacked with arrows, should defend himself with straws ;
except that this last would seem a mere game, the other
deceit. Deeds ought to be repaid by deeds. But such
return is difficult for me who am poor and in low station.
Poor I am in goods and strength, but not in good wishes.
Your kindnesses, then, which I cannot repay with good
deeds I will with prayers. I am rich in good wishes, I
abound in affection. And surely a true benefactor asks no
more. For in what way is a man beneficent if he is not
also benevolent? Besides, the benevolent man thinks
530 LETTER CLXXXI.
nothing dearer to himself than the very benevolence from
which he is called benevolent and is beneficent. Again, the
fruit of beneficence is benevolence, unless perchance any
one think that to be a benefit bestowed which he has sown
in hope or lost through fear. But who does not see that
this last is abandoned, the other sold, neither given ? A
benefit, therefore, to be real must be gratuitous. And so,
to be repaid anything by the receiver, cannot be so pleasing
to the giver as to have gratitude felt for what he has
gratuitously given. And this benevolence in the mind of
the receiver springs from the benevolence in that of the
giver, a beneficent act intervening. In this benevolence I
confess myself rich ; this I offer to my benefactor from a
full heart as a worthy return ; this I devoutly send up to
the Creator of all as a sacrifice of praise for the salvation
of my benefactor.
LETTER CLXXXIL (Circa A.D. 1136.)
To HENRY, ARCHBISHOP OF SENS. 1
He blames him for harshness in deposing his Arch
deacon against rule.
Often, I confess, I have been going to write to you on
behalf of many, and I had determined not to do so because
of your hateful harshness, but charity shall prevail. I wish
to retain for you your friends, and you disdain it ; I wish to
reconcile your enemies, and you suffer it not. You wish
not for peace, but for shame and deposition ; 2 you are
hastening on your confusion with hands and feet. You are
multiplying your accusers, alienating your supporters. You
1 This is a severe Letter, and is written to the same Bishop to whom in Letter
42 he gave such wholesome advice about the office and character of Bishops.
This Letter was written close upon A.D. 1140, certainly before A.D. 1144, in
which year Henry died, and was succeeded by Hugh. About his death see
Letter 102.
2 That he was suspended A.D. 1136 is evident from the fact that Hugh,
Abbot of Pontigny, was consecrated Bishop of Auxerre, at Ferrara, by Geoffrey,.
Bishop of Chartres, " because of the suspension of the Metropolitan Henry."
Labl-e s History of the Bishops of Auxerre, c. 55.
LETTER CLXXXII. 531
are stirring up against yourself quarrels long laid to rest,
provoking your adversaries, offending your protectors.
You do all from caprice and not from reason, all for power,
nothing from the fear of God. Who is there of your
enemies that does not laugh at you, who of your friends
that does not complain ? Why do you degrade a man who
is not only not convicted after trial, but not even heard ?
What scandal will this cause ! how many mouths will it
stir to derision, how many hearts to indignation ! And do
you suppose that justice has perished out of the earth as it
has out of your heart, that a man should lose his arch
deaconry taken from him in this way? But you perhaps
are better pleased to give it back after seizing it, rather
than to deserve his gratitude by suffering him to retain it :
but this you have lost by your way of acting. Do not, I
beseech you, do not do this thing; all who hear of it w r ill
be amazed, no one will praise you. These words that I
have written are more biting and more bold than you may
like, but if you are willing to correct your ways, you will
see that they are not unwise, nor to your disadvantage.
LETTER CLXXXIII. (A.I). 1139.)
To CONRAD, KING OF THE ROMANS.
He urges upon him reverence for the Apostolic Sec.
Your letters and salutations I receive as gladly as I am
unworthy of them ; unworthy I mean in dignity, not in
devotion. The complaints of the King are also mine, and
especially those which you rightly make about the invasion
of the Empire. I have never wished for the disgrace of the
King, or the diminution of his kingdom ; the violent my
soul abhorreth. I have read indeed : Let every soul he
subject unto the higher powers; he who resistcth fin-
power resisteth the ordinance of God (Rom. xiii. 1,2).
Which sentence I ask and warn you to observe in every
way, by showing reverence to the supreme Apostolic See,
and to the Vicar of Blessed Peter, just as you wish it
532 LETTER CLXXXIV.
shown to you by the whole empire. There are some
matters which I have thought it best not to write of, but
which I could more suitably perhaps speak of in person.
LETTER CLXXXIV. (A.D. 1140.)
To THE LORD POPE INNOCENT.
He excuses himself for not being well able to send the
monks asked of him.
We have received again my brother Andrew * safe and
in good spirits, and bringing good news of your safety and
glory, of the peace and prosperity of the Church, of the
flourishing and powerful state of the Roman Curia, and
lastly of the favour and good-will which you still have for
me. God in His mercy has dealt well with me: He has
made me joyful. But your wish that we should send
brothers to you will be with difficulty complied with, chiefly
because we have not the number of members we once had.
Indeed, besides those who have been destined in twos or
threes to different cells, three new monasteries have been
wholly founded out of them since I left you, and others are
about to be founded. Still I will take care to summon
from all our houses some whom I may send you, as I desire
in all things to obey your commands. 3
LETTER CLXXXV. (A.D. 1138.)
To EUSTACE, INTRUSIVE OCCUPIER OF THE SEE OF
VALENCE.
Bernard exhorts him to think of his age and his
approaching death, and not to give ear to the perfidious
counsels of flatterers.
1 Either Andrew, Bernard s brother, a Cistercian, or the one mentioned in
Letter i 76, or Andrew of Baudiment, mentioned in Letter 226.
2 The Pontiff wished to have a colony of Cistercians placed at Rome in the
Church of S. Anastasius at Aquae Salviae. Another colony which was under the
rule of another Abbot Bernard, who was afterwards Eugenius III., had been sent
to Farfa, and this he placed at Aquae Salviae A.n. 1 140. See the third book of
his Life, n. 23, and also S. Bernard s Letters 343 and 345.
LKTTKR CI.XXXV. 533
To the illustrious EUSTACK, Brother BERNARD sends
greeting.
i. I often wish your salvation, my illustrious brother,
though I do not often write. Who shall forbid the wish ?
Neither laws govern, nor princes hold sway over the affec
tions. They are free, especially if led by the Spirit, for
where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty (2 Cor. iii.
17). Thence it is that I am now venturing to write to
your greatness as though I were some great one, though, I
confess, I have neither been bidden, nor asked, nor invited
by you to do so. But what if charity bid me ? Another
may, perhaps, take it differently ; I have determined by
this letter, so far as in me lies, and with true charity, to
remind an illustrious man of his salvation, to arouse him
from sleep, to recall him to himself, to summon him to
grace. Who knows whether God will turn, and pardon,
and leave a blessing behind Him? Nay, who knows not
what and how great are the riches of His goodness, and
long suffering, which a merciful and compassionate God
has treasured up for him? In short, He is merciful, He
spares, waits, and hides Himself even till now, having made
Himself as a man who heareth not, and in whose mouth
are no reproofs, delaying to strike, ready to pardon. But
thou, my Lord, how long ? Thou, I say, O good man, how
long wilt thou hide thyself from Him? how long wilt thou
despise Him? It is hard for thee to kick against the pricks
(Acts ix. 5). Knowest thou not that the goodness of God
is leading thcc to repentance ? How long wilt thou, after
thv hardness and impenitent heart, heap up for thyself
wrath against the day of wrath ? (Rom. ii. 4, 5).
2. Or is it not according to thy hardness indeed, but ac
cording to thy shame? What matters it according to what
you are perishing? O, shame, void of reason, enemy of
salvation, ignorant of all honour and honesty ! This truly is
that of which the Wise Man says, that there is a shame which
bringeth sin (Ecclus. iv. 21). Is it, then, a shame for a man
to be overcome by God, and is it to be held a disgrace to
humble one s self under the mighty hand of the Most High?
534 LETTER CLXXXV.
That glorious King David says thus : Against Thee only
have I sinned and done this evil in Thy sight, that Thou
viightest be justified in Thy sayings and mightest overcome
when Thou art judged (Ps. li. 4). The highest kind of
victory is to yield to the Divine Majesty; and not to strive
against our mother, the Church, is the highest honour and
glory. O, perversity ! You are not ashamed to be polluted,
and yet you are ashamed to be cleansed. There is a shame,
according to the Wise Man, which brings glory (Ecclus. iv.
21), viz., that which keeps from sin. But even if you are
not ashamed to sin, there remains a glory, though it comes
late, viz., when shame brings back that which guilt had
banished. They, whose iniquities are forgiven and whose
sin is covered (Ps. xxxii. i), hold the second place of
blessedness. An honourable covering is that of which it is
said, Confession and beauty are in his sight (Ps. xcvi. 6,
VULG.). Who will grant me to see you in golden apparel,
so that I can say to you also : Thou hast put on confession
and honour, thou hast clad thyself with light, as with a
garment (Ps. civ. i, 2) ; Return, O Shunamite, that we may
see thee (Cant. vi. 13) ; Awake, awake, put on thy strength,
put on the garment of salvation (Isa. lii. i) ; Awake
thou that sleepest, and arise from the dead, and Christ
shall give thee light (Eph. v. 14) ; Confession perisheth
from the dead as from one who is not (Ecclus. xvii. 28).
3. How long will you forget yourself, for ever ? How long
will you sleep in death, O ornament of the noble, but grief
of the faithful ? How long will you be stubbornly opposed
to your spiritual good, an exile from your honour, a rebel
against your salvation ? Why do you proceed to consum
mate your previous excellent character and actions with so
different an ending ? How can such an old age, which
ought to be spent quietly in fruitful deeds of mercy, wipe
out the punishment due to all your past days, or blot out
their guilt ? Why, alas ! should your hoary head alone,
which should be reverenced, be robbed of its accustomed
veneration ; why should it alone sink unhonoured into the
.grave, when it should have been especially respected ?
LETTER CLXXXV. 535
Have pity on thy soul by pleasing God (Ibid. xxx. 23) ;
For they who please men have been put to confusion, for
God hath despised them (Ps. liii. 5). The time of man is
short ; to the old man death is at the door. You have a
short, a very short time with those who say to you, Well !
well ! Let it be also a light thing to you to be judged by
them, or by man s little day, since you are even now ready
to be brought before the scrutiny of angels ; and, un
happy man that you are, are being hastened by the very
failure of nature before the dread tribunal of Christ. You
ought to be preparing yourself for that judgment, to be
conforming yourself to that world, to be seeking the favour
of that Court, and dreading rejection from it. Why are
you disturbed by the opinion of those whose praise at
that day will be found not to render you approved, nor
their abuse to condemn you ? In short, the children of
men arc vanity, the children of men are a lie in the scales,
that they may alike deceive in their vanity (Ps. Ixii. 9).
4. Besides, those who call you blessed lead you into error ;
they give you words and take back gifts. Vain both, but
especially the words. And you deceive from vanity like
them ; but you are more deceived, they less. For you give
what at all events is worth something, and you give it to
the ungrateful and undeserving. Indeed, they love your
goods, not you ; nay, rather they love neither you nor
yours, but they seek their own. Your goods, as far as
they can, they will hunt after with their empty and lying
flatteries. Their words are smoother than oil, and yet
they are very darts (Ps. liii. 21). And therefore David
said : The oil of the sinner shall not anoint my head (Ps.
cxli. 5). By them the sinner is praised in the desires of
his soul and the wicked is blessed (Ps. x. 3). It is not I,
then, but the Wise Man who bids you beware of them.
My son, if sinners entice thee, consent thou not (Prov. i.
10). Attend rather to Him who judges in equity for the
meek of the earth ; the meek whom your pastoral can-
does not feed, but whom your secular power oppresses,
over whom you would have no power at all except it were
536 LETTER CLXXXVI.
given you from above. But this is your hour and the
power of darkness. But listen to this : Judgment is
severe for those who govern, and mighty men shall be
mightily tormented (Wisd. vi. 6, 7). If you fear this you
will take care ; if you disregard it you will fall into it, and
it is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living
God (Heb. x. 31). May the one true God avert this, who
wishes not the death of a sinner, but rather that he should
be converted and live (Ezek. xviii. 23, 32). My mind bids
me say more, but you perchance would not listen. Rough
words please not, although true and wholesome, because
they are bitter and disagreeable to the taste. Therefore I
will put my ringer on my lip till I know r how this is
received ; but you may believe that I will be agreeable to
you if I can, yet not with pen or with tongue, but in deed
and in truth.
LETTER CLXXXVI. (Circa A.D. 1140.)
To SIMON, SON OF THE CASTELLAN OF CAMBRAY. 1
Bernard recommends to his protection the monks of
Vaucelles, and begs him to ratify the donation of his
father.
I have heard, dearly beloved, from Ralph, Abbot of
Vaucelles, that you greatly long to see and speak to me,
and I was greatly pleased with your so great devotion to
me, nor am I ungrateful for your goodwill. You know it
is my wish to satisfy your desire ; but I am hindered from
carrying out my w r ish not only by bodily illness, but also
by very many, and very important, matters of business.
But though absent in the body I am present in spirit, until
such a time as I may be, if God will, present with you in
body and in spirit. If, however, we love not in mouth and
tongue only, but in deed and in truth, the truth of our love
1 Cambray is wanting in all copies ; some have D Oisy. Both are right ;
for in this Letter mention is made of the monks of Vaucelles, of the Cistercian
Order, founded near Cambray A.D. 1132,. The author of the Life of S. Goswin,
Abbot of Anchin, praises Simon of Oisy (lib. ii. c. 19).
LETTER CI. XXXVII.
537
will best appear in action. And so this is what I ask, that
you will love, cherish, and whenever necessary protect the
brothers of Vaucelles and their Church, so that in this you
may afford a signal mark of your liberality, and that there
may be a clear proof of that affection which you promise
me. That affection I wish now first to make trial of in this
one point: Will you ratify to me the lands of Ligecourt,
which your father conferred on me in person for the support
of that monastery, so as not to make void the grant of your
father? I, for my part, giving thanks for past kindnesses,
and hoping for the like in the future, offer up my prayers for
you and yours to Him who performs the wish of those who
fear him, and hears their prayer (Ps. cxlv. 19). We pray
for the welfare of you and your wife, and all who belong to
you.
LETTER CLXXXVII. (A.D. 1140.)
To CALL TOGETHER THE BISHOPS OF THE ARCHDIOCESE
OF SENS AGAINST PETER ABAELARD. x
He urges the Bishops to energetic action in the cause of
religion against Abaelard.
1 Peter was born in the neighbourhood of Nantes ; his father s name was
Berengarius, his mother s Lucia. He first studied philosophy at Paris under
William of Champeaux, then mathematics under Roscelin, and then theology
under Anselm at Laon, not without envy and admiration. He afterwards
entered on the interpretation of the Scriptures at Paris, and attracted many
disciples, amongst them Heloise, a niece of Fulbert, a Canon of Paris, whose
mind he trained, but violated her body. Fulbert being enraged at this injury
revenged himself on Abaelard, who wished to repair by marriage the wrong that
he had done, by breaking into his room at night and cruelly mutilating him.
Both lovers then sought hiding places for their shame, one became a nun at
Argenteuil, near Paris, the other a monk of S. Denys. But everywhere he was
unlucky, or he made himself obnoxious, and he soon retired to a cell near the
monastery at Deuil, and there he publicly lectured on theology. But he
gave the reins too much to his own genius and to human reason, and, using
expressions inconsistent with the faith, he was summoned to a Council held at
Soissons, A.D. 1 121, by the Legate Conon, and there was compelled to burn his
book On the Jrmity , or, Introduction to Ttieology, which contained suspected
statements. He was then handed over to the monastery of S. Medard at
Soissons. At length, tired of society, he was allowed to depart to a cell situate
VOL. ii. 35
LETTER CLXXXVII.
in a lonely part of the Diocese of Troyes, where he built an oratory, which he
dedicated first to the Holy Trinity, and afterwards to the Paraclete. But not
even here was quiet allowed him. The monks of S. Gildas, in Brittany, in the
Diocese of Vannes, summoned him to be their Abbot, and he found them, as he
says in his History of His Calamities, " though Christians and monks, harsher
and worse than heathen." He then returned to his oratory of the Paraclete,
and handed it over to He loise, with her sisters, who had been driven from the
monastery of Argenteuil by Suger. Abbot of S. Denys, who claimed it for the
Abbey under an old charter, A.D. 1127. He continued his perverse writings and
teaching, and more now began to discuss his writings, especially William,
Abbot of S. Thierry, who wrote a refutation of some heads of his errors, and sent
his refutation to Geoffrey, Bishop of Chartres, and Bernard, Abbot of Clairvaux,
to stir them up to avenge the wrong done to their faith. (See Letters 326 and
327.) But Abaelard, indignant at being branded as a heretic, challenged S.
Bernard, as the author of the charge, to a public encounter at a Council held at
Sens, A.D. 1 140. S. Bernard went to the Council, though against his will.
Impious doctrines of Abaelard were quoted from his writings, which he was
bidden to deny if they were not his opinions, to abjure if they were. But he
became confused, and unable to speak, as Geoffrey of Auxerre relates in his
Commentary on the Apocalypse, or he was afraid of popular violence, as Otto
of Frisingen says, or he thought it was safer for him to plead his cause at
Rome, as S. Bernard says, because he had some Cardinals and clergy amongst
his disciples, and so he appealed to the Roman Curia. The Fathers of the
Council, none the less, proceeded to condemn his errors, and sent a list of them
to Innocent, and S. Bernard wrote various Letters, both in his own name and
in that of the Fathers, to Innocent and the Cardinals. Amongst Abaelard s
works there are extant the heads of 17 errors which the Synod transmitted
to the Pope; in the Letter of S. Bernard (No. 190) and in that of William
of S. Thierry we have nearly 390. Innocent, on the receipt of the Synodal
Letter, immediately wrote back the one numbered 194 to the Fathers of the
Council, condemning the errors ; and he added another, giving sentence against
Abaelard in these words:
" INNOCENT, Bishop, servant of the servants of God, to his venerable Brothers
SAMSON, Archbishop of Rheims, HENRY, Archbishop of Sens, and to his beloved
son in Christ, BERNARD, Abbot of Clairvaux, health and Apostolic benediction :
" By these presents we command you, brethren, to cause Peter Abaelard and
Arnold of Brescia, perverse manufacturers of dogma, and impugners of the
Catholic faith, to be imprisoned separately in houses of religion wherever it
may seem best to you, and to cause their books to be burnt wherever they may
be found.
Given at the Lateran, xviii. Kal. Aug."
On this Letter was written : " Show this transcript to no one till this Letter
shall have been presented to the Archbishops in the assembly at Paris." So
Abaelard, finding that he had been condemned at Rome, desisted from his appeal
on the advice of Peter, Abbot of Cluny, by whom he was kindly received into the
monastery. Afterwards, by Peter s intervention, he was reconciled with S.
Bernard, and then, with Innocent and the Church ; and having spent two years
LETTER CLXXXVII. 539
at Cluny with great submission, he died, A.D. 1142, in the (>3rd year of his age,
in the monastery of S. Marcellus, of Chalons-sur-Saone, whither he had been sent
by Peter to be cured of a disease that he was suffering from. Peter the
Venerable, in a Letter to He loise(No. 21, Book iv.), recounts the eminent virtues
that he displayed in this last part of his life. Abaelard has his too partial
supporters, who go so far as to say that he was innocent of all error. Firstly,
they state that Bernard fought against shadows ; secondly, they overturn the
authority of the Council of Soissons ; and, thirdly, they reverse the verdict of the
Roman Court given against Abaelard. A brief answer must be made to these
three counts.
I. Against Bernard there is first of all set the authority of Otto of Frisingen,
who, although he held Bernard in great veneration as his own Abbot, that is to
say, as the head of his order, yet writes that he, " because of his zeal for the
Christian religion was somewhat of a fanatic, and from his habitual meekness
was credulous; so that from the first he detested those teachers who might put
too much reliance on human reason and worldly wisdom, and from the second
he was ready to lend a favourable ear to any account, however much against
those teachers." Otto, indeed, says this in De Gestis Frederici (lib. i. c. 47),
but it is in connection with Gilbert de la Porree ; it is an argument, however in
favour of Abaelard. But Radevicus testifies, in the same work (lib. ii. c. u),
that Otto, being too partial to Gilbert, declared, on his death-bed, that if he had
said anything with regard to his sentence which could offend anyone, he would
wish it corrected. This must be taken, therefore, as a retractation. Further,
Otto himself, in what follows, says clearly enough what he thought of Abaelard.
He says : " From his early years he was devoted to the study of letters, and to
other elegant pursuits ; but he was so arrogant, and had such confidence in his
o.vn abilities, that he would scarcely deign to descend from his intellectual
height to listen to teachers." And again : " Holding the meaning of words and
names in their natural sense, he applied them incautiously in theology. Where
fore, in writing and teaching about the Holy Trinity, he over-refined about the
Three Persons, and used inapt illustrations." Add to this that Abaelard, on
Otto s own confession, was adjudged a Sabellian heretic at the Council of
Soissons. So much for the authority of Otto against Bernard. Then, in the
second place, the testimony of Peter the Venerable is brought forward in
Abaelard s favour, who, in the Letter to Heloise already referred to, says of him :
* Germanus was not more humble, nor Martin himself more poor." Peter of
Cluny is here speaking of those last days which Abaelard spent at Cluny, and
truly enough. But was Bernard attacking his future merits? And can he,
therefore, be said to have been fighting against shadows? The Chronicle of
Cluny, speaking of Peter the Venerable, says>ell : " Abaelard, whose name was
Peter, was recalled from his errors by Peter the Venerable, our Abbot, and by
Bernard, Abbot of Clairvaux, and abjured what he had held from want of faith
against the faith, and became a Cluniac monk. And then his thoughts,
words, and deeds were always divine; . . . and, as is said of Gregory the
Great, no moment passed that he was not praying, or reading, or writing, or
dictating. Wherefore Peter the Venerable carefully commending him," &c.
Many other remarks of this kind are quoted, extolling either the disposition, or
540 LETTER CLXXXVII.
the doctrine, or the excellent death of Abaelard, as though anyone of these affected
Bernard.
II. A want of power or jurisdiction is then alleged against the Synod of
Soissons, because neither the Archbishop of Sens nor of Rheims, who were pre
sent, had any jurisdiction over Abaelard, as Abbot of S. Gildas, in the Diocese of
Vannes, but only the Metropolitan of Tours, who was absent. But having re
turned twelve years before to the oratory of the Paraclete, which was in the Diocese
of Troyes, he was under the Archbishop of Sens. In the next place, he had as
judges men whom he himself had chosen, as Bernard says, in Letter 191,
written in the name of the Council to Innocent. " He appealed," he says,
" from the place and the judges that he himself had chosen to the Apostolic
See." Neither did Bernard, as some mistakenly say, call this Synod against
Abaelard, but rather Abaelard forced Bernard to it against his will, as is plainly
stated in Letters 187 and 189 ; moreover, Geoffrey of Auxerre, a former disciple
of Abaelard, says in his Commentary on the Apocalypse : " Abaelard demanded of
the Metropolitan of Sens that a great Council should as early as possible be
summoned in his province, because the Abbot of Clairvaux was secretly bring
ing charges against his books. He said that he was ready to defend his
writings in public, and asked that the aforesaid Abbot should be summoned to
the Council that people might hear what he had to say." He was then rightly
condemned, because, as jurisconsults say, anyone has jurisdiction over those who
willingly submit themselves to it. The second engine brought up to shake the
authority of the Synod is the testimony of Peter Berengarius, of Poictiers, who,
in his Apology for Al-aelard, his teacher, written against the Fathers of the
Council, and Bernard in particular, utters such shameless falsehoods and such
disgraceful libels that it is a wonder that any man of ordinary good feeling
should put up with them, or bring forward such an audacious and unscrupulous
man, who scoffs at venerable Bishops as "drunkards, dogs, pigs," thus exposing
himself not only to the ridicule, but also to the just indignation of his readers.
But let us see what in his more lucid moments he wrote to the Bishop of Mende
about S. Bernard : " Why, they say, now that you have finished the first volume,
do you not proceed with the second as you had promised ? Because, in course
of time, I had a clearer apprehension, and I came to be of the same mind as
Bernard. I was unwilling to be the patron of the articles charged against
Abaelard, because though their meaning was good, their form was bad.
Well, then, they say, when you decided to leave the second book alone why did
you not destroy the first ? I would have done so, I reply, if it were not that my
work might be of use in furnishing examples, &c.
III. In the third place there is alleged against the sentence of the Roman
Pontiff an indecent haste in pronouncing it, because he condemned Abaelard
without hearing his defence. But were not the acts of the Council of Soissons,
at which Abaelard was present, sufficient evidence ? Was there any one of the
Cardinals or clergy of the Roman Curia who was not well acquainted with his
opinions, or who would not, if it had been possible, have tried to save him from
condemnation whom very many of them had had as teacher ? Therefore, let
the sentence of Innocent stand, let the authority of the Council and of S. Bernard
stand unshaken, and let Abaelard have no other excuse for his error than his own,
LETTER CLXXXVIII. 541
The news has gone abroad amongst many, and I suppose
has reached you, why we are convoked at Sens, within the
Octave of Pentecost, and provoked to a contest in defence
of the Faith, although the servant of the Lord must not
strive, but rather be patient to all. If it were my own
cause, the son of your Holiness might not undeservedly,
perhaps, boast himself in your protection. But now since
it is also yours, nay, more yours than mine, I bid you the
more confidently, and ask you the more importunately, to
show yourselves friends in need. I mean, friends not to
me, but to Christ, whose Bride calls to you that she is
well-nigh choked in the midst of a forest of heresies, and
a crop of errors which are springing up under your care
and protection. The friend of the Bridegroom will not
desert Her in Her time of trouble. Nor wonder that I
invite you so suddenly and within so short a time ; it is
because the opposite side in its wiliness and craft is pre
paring to attack the unprepared, and to force the unarmed
to join battle.
LETTER CLXXXVIII. (A.D. 1140.)
TO THE BISHOPS AND CARDINALS OF THE CURIA ON
THE SAME SUBJECT.
He warns them, to vigilance against the errors of Peter
Abaelard.
To the Lords and reverend Fathers, the Bishops and
Cardinals who are of the Curia, the son of their holiness
sends greeting.
No one doubts that to you it specially belongs to remove
scandals from the kingdom of God, to cut down thorns as
they arise, and to allay quarrels. For so Moses enjoined
vu., the correction of his life and false opinions. HtSloise herself, after the
death of her Abaelard, acted far more wisely than these his defenders, when she
asked leave from Peter the Venerable to be buried in Abaelard s tomb (as is
recorded in the Cluniac Library and in Abaelard s works ), which some rely on
in framing thtir Apologies, as an excuse for the errors which he at the last did
not cease to wash away with penitence and tears. But enough of this.
54 2 LETTER CLXXXVIII.
when he ascended the Mount, saying, You have Aaron and
Hur with you, if any question arise yo2i shall refer it to
them (Ex. xxiv. 14). I speak of that Moses who went
through water, and not through water only, but through
water and blood. And He is therefore more than Moses,
because He went through blood. And since in place of
Aaron and Hur the zeal and authority of the Roman Church
presides over the people of God, to it we rightly refer not
only doubtful questions, but attacks on the faith, injuries
done to Christ, scorn and contempt cast on the Fathers,
the scandals of the living, the dangers to posterity. The
faith of simple folk is scoffed at, the hidden things of God
are exposed, questions about the most exalted truths are
rashly ventilated, the Fathers are derided because they
held that such things are rather to be tasted than solved.
Thence it comes to pass that the Paschal Lamb, contrary to
the command of God (Ex. xii. 9), is either cooked with
water, or is eaten of raw in a rude and bestial fashion.
What is left is not burnt with fire but is trodden under
foot; so human reason usurps for itself everything, and
leaves nothing for faith. It tries things above it, tests
things too strong for it, rushes into Divine things ; holy
subjects it rather forces open than unlocks, what is closed
and sealed it rather plunders than opens ; and whatever it
finds out of its reach it holds to be of no account and
disdains to believe. Read if you please the book of Peter
Abaelard, which he calls a book of Theology, for it is in
your hands (since, as he boasts, it is read by many at the
Curia), and see what things are said about the Holy Trinity,
about the generation of the Son, about the procession of
the Holy Spirit, and many other things he says repugnant
to Catholic ears and minds. Read too that other book
which they call a book of his Sentences, J and that one
1 Abaelard denies in his Apology that he had ever written any book of this
name, and therefore brings forward the accusation that it had been put forth
against him through malice or ignorance; and Duchesne asserts the same in
his notes. " S. Bernard," he says, "attributes to Abaelard this book of
Sentences in ignorance in his i88th Letter," as though he had attributed to him
the books of Sejitences written by Peter Lombard. But Peter was not so un-
LETTER CLXXXVIII. 543
which is entitled Know Thyself, and notice what a crop
of blasphemies and errors is there flourishing. See what he
thinks about the Soul of Christ, about the Person of Christ,
about the descent of Christ into Hades, about the sacra
ment of the altar, about the power of binding and loosing,
about original sin, about concupiscence, about the sin of
delight, about the sin of infirmity, about the sin of ignorance,
about the work of sin, about the will to commit sin. And
if you think that I have rightly stirred, bestir also your
selves ; and bestir not yourselves in vain ; act for the place
you hold, the dignity of your office, the authority you have
received, in such a way that he who has exalted himself to
heaven may be cast down to hell, so that the works of
darkness which have had the audacity to come forward
into the light may be reproved by the light ; so that while
he who sins publicly is publicly reproved, others may learn
to restrain themselves, putting, as they do, darkness for
light, disputing at the cross roads about Divine things,
speaking evil in their writings, and writing it in their
books ; and that so the mouth of them who speak wicked
ness may be stopped.
LETTER CLXXXIX. (A.D. 1140.)
To POPE INNOCENT, ON THE SAME SUBJECT.
He expresses his grief at the errors of Abaelard, which he
warns the Pope to oppose.
To his most loving Father and Lord INNOCENT, by the
grace of God, Supreme Pontiff, BERNARD, called Abbot of
Clairvaux, writes as his humble servant.
known to S. Bernard that he should fall into this mistake. He sings his praises
in Letter 410. Moreover, when this Letter was written Peter had not published
his Sentences. We have certainly a book which is undoubtedly Abaelard s, com
monly called Sic et non, the heading of which runs : " Here begin sentences
taken from the Holy Scriptures which seem opposed to each other : because of
which opposition this compilation is called Sic et unit." S. Bernard may have
alluded to this when he wrote. Besides the other works of Abaelard ivimeci by
Duchesne we have a book of his on the six days of creation dedicated to
H61oise.
544 LETTER CLXXXIX.
1. It is necessary that offences come. It is necessary
but not pleasant. And therefore the Prophet says, O that
I had wings like a dove, for then would I flee away and be
at rest (Ps. Iv. 6). And the Apostle wishes to be dis
solved and to be with Christ. And so another of the
Saints : // is enough, O Lord, take away my life, for I am
not better than my fathers (i Kings xix. 4). I have now
something in common with the Saints, at least in wish if
not in desert. For I could wish myself now taken from
the midst of this world, overcome, I confess, by the fear-
fulness of my spirit and by the troubles of the time. I
fear lest I be found better disposed than prepared. I am
weary of life, and whether it is expedient to die I know
not ; and so perhaps even in my prayers I differ from the
Saints, because they are provoked by the desire of better
things, while I am compelled to depart by scandals and
anxieties. He says in fact, To be dissolved and to be with
Christ is far better (Phil. i. 23). Therefore in the Saint
desire prevails, and in me sense ; and in this unhappy life
neither is he able to have the good he desires, nor I not to
have the trouble which I suffer. And for this reason we
both desire indeed to depart, with the same wish, but not
from the same cause.
2. I was but just now foolishly promising myself some
rest, when the schism of Leo was healed and peace
restored to the Church. But lo ! that is at rest, but I am
not. I knew not that I was in a vale of tears, or I had
forgotten that I dwell in a land of forgetfulness. I paid no
attention to the fact that the earth in which I dwell brings
forth for me thorns and thistles, that when they are cut
down others succeed, and when these are destroyed others
grow ceaselessly, and spring up without intermission. I
had heard these things indeed, but, as I now find out,
vexation itself gives better understanding to the hearing.
My grief has been renewed, not destroyed, my tears have
overwhelmed me, because evil has strengthened, and when
they had endured the frost, the snow fell upon them. Who
hath power to resist this frost ? By it charity freezes, that
LETTER CLXXXIX. 545
iniquity may abound. We have escaped the lion, Leo, to
fall on the dragon (i.e., Peter Abaelard), who perhaps may
do us not less injury by lurking in ambush than the former
by raging on high. Although I would that his poisonous
pages were still lying hid in bookcases, and not read at the
cross-roads. His books fly abroad ; and they who hate the
light because they are evil have dashed themselves against
the light, thinking light darkness. Over cities and castles
is darkness cast instead of light ; instead of honey, or
rather in honey, his poison is on all sides eagerly drunk in.
His books have passed from nation to nation, and from one
kingdom to another people. A new gospel is being
fashioned for peoples and nations, a new faith propounded,
another foundation laid than that which is laid. Virtues
and vices are discussed immorally, the Sacraments of the
Church unfaithfully, the mystery of the Holy Trinity
craftily and extravagantly ; but everything is given in a
perverse spirit, in an unprecedented manner, and beyond
what we have received.
3. Goliath advances, tall in stature, clad in his armour of
war, preceded by his armour-bearer, Arnold of Brescia.
Scale overlaps scale, and there is no point left unguarded.
Indeed, the bee which was in France 1 has sent his mur
muring to the Italian bee, and they have come together
against the Lord and against His anointed. They have
bent their bow, they have made ready their arrows within
the quiver, that they may privily shoot at them which are
true of heart. In their life and habits they have the form
of godliness, but they deny its power, and they thereby
deceive many, for they transform themselves into angels of
light, when they are Satan s. Goliath standing with his
armour-bearer between the two lines, shouts against the
armies of Israel, and curses the ranks of the Saints, and
that the more boldly because he knows that no David is
present. In short, he puts forward philosophers with great
1 An allusion to Isaiah vii. 18. The French bee is Abaelard, the Italian,
Arnold of Brescia, a city of Italy. For more about him see notes on Letter
95-
546 LETTER CLXXXIX.
praise and so affronts the teachers of the Church, and
prefers their imaginations and novelties to the doctrine
and faith of the Catholic Fathers ; and when all fly from
his face he challenges me, the weakest of all, to single
combat.
4. The Archbishop of Sens, at his solicitation, writes to
me fixing a day for the encounter, on which he in person,
and with his brother bishops, should determine, if possible,
on his false opinions, against which I had ventured to lift
my voice. I refused, not only because I am but a youth
and he a man of war from his youth, but also because I
thought it unfitting that the grounds of the faith should be
handed over to human reasonings for discussion, when, as
is agreed, it rests on such a sure and firm foundation. I
said that his writings w r ere enough for his condemnation,,
and that it was not my business, but that of the Bishops,
whose office it is to decide on matters of faith. He none
the less, nay, rather the more on this account, lifted his
voice, called upon many, assembled his accomplices. What
he wrote about me to his disciples I do not care to say.
He spread everywhere the report that on a fixed day he
would answ r er me at Sens. The report reached everyone,
and I could not but hear of it. At first I held back, nor
was I much moved by the popular rumour. At length I
yielded to the advice of my friends (although much against
my will, and with tears), who saw how all were getting
ready as if for a show r , and they feared lest from my
absence cause of offence should be given to the people,
and the horn of the adversary be exalted ; and, since the
error was likely to be strengthened if there were no one
to answer or contradict it, I betook myself to the place
appointed and at the time, unprepared, indeed, and un
armed, except that I revolved in my mind those words,,
Take no thought how ye shall answer, for it shall be given
you in that hour what ye shall say (S. Matt. x. 19) ; and r
again, The Lord is my helper, I will not fear what man
may do unto me (Ps. cxviii. 6). There had assembled,
besides bishops and abbots, very many religious men r
LETTER CLXXXIX. 547
masters of the schools from different states, and many learned
clergy ; and the King, too, was present. And so in the
presence of all, my adversary standing opposite, I produced
certain articles taken from his books. And when I began
to read them he departed, unwilling to listen, and appealed
from the judges that he had himself chosen, a course I do
not think allowable. Further, the articles having been
examined, were found, in the judgment of all, opposed to
the faith, contrary to the truth. I have written this on my
own behalf, lest I should be thought to have shown levity,
or at all events rashness, in so important a matter.
5. But thou, O successor of Peter, wilt determine whether
he, who assails the faith of Peter, ought to have shelter at
the See of Peter. Thou, I say, the friend of the bride
groom, wilt provide measures to free His Bride from lying
lips and from a deceitful tongue. But that I may speak a
little more boldly with my Lord, do thou, most loving
Father, take heed to thyself, and to the grace of God
which is in thee. Did He not, when thou wast small in
thine own eyes, place thee over nations and kingdoms?
For what, but that thou shouldst pull down, and destroy,
and build, and plant ? See what great things He, who
took thee from thy father s house, and anointed thee with
the oil of His mercy, has since done for thy soul : what
great things for His Church, by your means, in His vine
yard, Heaven and Earth being witnesses, have been, as
powerfully as wholesomely, uprooted and destroyed ; what
great things, again, have been well built, planted, and sown.
God raised up the madness of schismatics in your time,
that by your efforts they might be crushed. I have seen
the fool in great prosperity, and immediately his beauty
was cursed ; I saw, I say, I saw the impious highly exalted
and lifted up above the cedars of Lebanon, and I passed
by, and lo he was gone. It is necessary, S. Paul says, that
there be heresies and schisms, that they that arc approved
may be made manifest (i Cor. xi. 19). And, indeed, in
schism, as I have just said, the Lord has proved and known
you. But that nothing be wanting to your crown, lo !
54-8 LETTER CLXXXIX.
heresies have sprung up. And so, for the perfection of
your virtues, and that you may be found to have done
nothing less than the great Bishops, your predecessors,
take away from us, most loving Father, the foxes which
are laying waste the vineyard of the Lord while they are
little ones ; lest if they increase and multiply, our children
despair of destroying what was not exterminated by you.
Although they are not even now small or few, but imposing
and numerous, and will not be exterminated save by you,
and by a strong hand. lacinctus 1 has threatened me with
many evils ; but he has not done, nor could he do, what he
wished. But I thought that I ought to bear patiently con
cerning myself what he has spared neither to your person
nor to the Curia; but this my friend Nicholas, as he is also
yours, will better tell in person.
1 It is uncertain who this lacinctus, or Hyacinctus, is. It may be he who
was afterwards created Cardinal by Lucius II., under the name of Bobo, and title
of S. Mary in Cosmedin. Mention seems to be made of him in Letter 508.
Nicholas was a monk of Clairvaux, and afterwards S. Bernard s notary ; v.
Letter 298.
NOTE
TO
THE FOLLOWING TREATISE.
1. The following Letter, which is the igoth of S. Bernard,
was ranked by Horst among the Treatises, on account of its
length and importance. It was written on the occasion of
the condemnation of the errors of Abaelard by the Council
of Sens, in 1140, in the presence of a great number of
French Bishops, and of King Louis the Younger, as has
been described in the notes to Letter 187. In the Synodical
Epistle, which is No. 19 1 of S. Bernard, and in another,
which is No. 337, the Fathers of the Council announced to
Pope Innocent that they had condemned the errors of
Abaelard, but had pronounced no sentence against him
personally out of respect for the appeal which he had made
to the Holy See ; and they add that " the chief heads of his
errors are more fully detailed in the Letter of the Bishop of
Sens." I think that the Letter of which mention is thus
made can be no other than that given here, and in which we
find, in fact, the chief heads of Abaelard s errors, with a
summary refutation of each. They are also the same as
those which William, who had become a simple monk at
Igny, after having been Abbot of Saint Thierry, had
addressed to Geoffrey, Bishop of Chartres, and to Bernard,
in a Letter which is inserted among those of Bernard.
2. As regards the different errors imputed to Abaelard,
there are some which he complained were wrongly attri
buted to him. Others, on the contrary, he recognized as
his, and corrected them in his Apology, in which he repre
sents Bernard as being his only opponent, his malignant
550 NOTE TO THE FOLLOWING TREATISE.
and hasty denouncer. Two former partizans of Abaelard
himself, but who had long recoiled from his errors, Geof
frey, who afterwards was the Secretary of Bernard, and
" a certain Abbot of the Black Monks/ whose name is un
known, attempted to justify Bernard against these calum
nies. Duchesne had spoken of these two writers in his
notes to Abaelard, but the Treatises of both of them were
lately printed in Vol. iv. of the " Bibliotheca Cisterciensis,"
whose learned Editor, Bertrand Tissier, remarks that this
unknown Abbot is some other person than William of
Saint Thierry.
3. Of the heads of errors attributed to Abaelard, some
are wanting in his printed works, which has given occasion
to some writers for accusing Bernard, as if he had attributed
errors to Abaelard without foundation, and so had himself
been fighting against shadows and phantoms. But it is
certain that most of these errors are to be found even in his
printed writings, as we shall show each in its place. As
for those which are no longer discoverable, William of
Saint Thierry, Geoffrey, and this unknown Abbot, who had
been once a disciple of Abaelard, and was perfectly
acquainted with his doctrine, quote word for word state
ments both from his Apology and from his Theology, which
do not appear in the printed editions ; and certainly Abae
lard himself, in Book ii. of his " Commentary on the Epistle
to the Romans/ p. 554, reserves certain points to be treated
in his Theology of which there is no mention in the printed
copies, which close thus : " The rest is wanting/ so that it
appears that the printed copies of the Theology have been
mutilated.
4. Those writers have, therefore, done a very ill service
to Religion, to say nothing of the injury to Bernard, who,
in order to justify Abaelard, accuse Bernard of having been
hurried on by the impulse of a blind zeal. They ought
at least to acknowledge, as Abaelard himself did, and also
Berengarius, his defender, that he had erred in various
matters. And, indeed, Abaelard himself, in his Apology,
acknowledges, though perhaps not quite sincerely, that in
NOTE TO THE FOLLOWING TREATISE. 551
some respects he was wrong. " It is possible," he says,
"that I have fallen into some errors which I ought to have
avoided, but I call God as a witness and judge upon my
soul that in these points upon which I have been accused,
I have presumed to say nothing through malice or through
pride." It may well be that he might be able to clear
himself of the reproach of malice, and even of that of
heresy ; but, at least, he could not deny that he had fallen
into various errors a liking for new words and phrases,
levity, and perhaps even pride and an excessive desire for
disputation. However this may be, Pope Innocent bade the
Bishops by a rescript that the man was to be imprisoned
and his books burned, and Godfrey declares that the Pope
himself had them thrown into the flames at Rome. But
Peter Abaelard at length returned to better views. He
desisted from his Appeal by the advice and request of Peter
the Venerable, Abbot of Cluny, who has described his last
days in pleasing terms in a Letter which he wrote to
Heloi se.
5. Bernard did not attack Abaelard in his discourses
and writings with impunity. Not only was Abaelard
impatient of his censure, but also Berengarius, his disciple
and defender, dared to accuse Bernard of having spread
certain errors in his books. " You have certainly erred,"
says Berengarius, addressing Bernard, " in asserting the
origin of souls from Heaven " (p. 310). And on p. 315:
" The origin of souls from Heaven is a fabulous thing, and
this I remember that you taught in these words (Serin, in
Cantica, No. 17) : The Apostle has rightly said, our con
versation is in heaven. These words which you have
expounded with great subtilty, savour much to the palate of
a Christian mind of heresy." But enough of this foolish
and impudent slanderer. The unknown Abbot reports
another calumny of Abaelard against Bernard at the end
of his second book : " It is very astonishing to me that for
such a long time no reply should have been made by so
many great men whose teaching enlightens the Church, as
the light of the sun is reflected upon the moon, to our Abae-
552 NOTE TO THE FOLLOWING TREATISE.
lard, who accused the Abbot of saying that God, and Man
assumed by God, are one Person in the Trinity. Whereas
Man is a material body composed of various limbs and dis
soluble, while God is neither a material body, nor has any
limbs, nor can be dissolved. Wherefore, neither ought
God to be called Man, nor Man to be called God," etc.
Thus Abaelard shows himself a Nestorian, while petulantly
accusing Bernard of error. Rightly does William of Saint
Thierry reply in his 8th chapter to Abaelard with regard
to this passage : " Thus we say similarly that Christ is the
Son of Man in the nature of His Humanity, but not from
that according to which He has union with God, and is One
of the Three Persons in the Trinity ; because, as God
Incarnate was made the Son of Man on account of the
human nature which He assumed, so the man united to the
Son of God has become the Son of God on account of the
Divine Nature which has united him to itself."
6. Besides the heads of errors which Bernard refutes in
these books, he groups together some others in No. 10,
contenting himself with exposing them ; these have been
refuted by other authors, viz., by William, and by the un
known Abbot. As to the Eucharistic species or the acci
dents, which, according to Abaelard, remain in the air after
consecration, this was the view of William : " It appears
to me, if you agree with me," he says, writing to Geoffrey,
Bishop of Chartres, and to Bernard, " that those accidents,
i.e., the form of the earlier substance, which, I believe, is
nothing else than a harmonious combination of accidents
into one, if they still exist, do so in the Body of the Lord,
not forming it, but by the power and wisdom of God work
ing upon them, shaping and modifying it, that it may become
capable, according to the purpose of the mystery and the
manner of a Sacrament, of being touched and tasted in a
form different from that proper to it, which it could not do
in its own." He says again in his book to Rupertus, De
Cor pore et Sanguine Domini, c. 3 : "In opposition to every
conception and mode of reasoning in secular philosophy,
the substance of bread is changed into another substance,
NOTE TO THE FOLLOWING TREATISE. 553
and has carried with it certain accidents into the Eucharistic
mystery, but without altering them from what they were,
and in such a manner that the Body of the Lord is not
either white or round, though whiteness and roundness are
associated with it. And it so retains these accidents that
although they are truly present with His Human Body, yet
they are not in It, do not touch it, or affect it," etc.
7. It was not only with respect to the Incarnation of Our
Lord that Abaelard thought, or at least expressed himself,
in an erroneous manner. He was equally in error on the
subject of the grace of Christ, which he reduced simply to
the reason granted to man by God, to the admonitions of
the Holy Scriptures, and to good examples, and thus made
it common to all men. " We may say, then," he taught,
" that man, by the reason which he has received from God,
is able to embrace the grace which is offered him ; nor does
God do any more for a person who is saved before he has
embraced the offered grace, than for one who is not saved.
But just as a man who exposes precious jewels for sale, in
order to excite in those who see them the wish to purchase ;
thus God makes His grace known before all, exhorts us bv
the Scriptures, and reminds us by examples, so that men,
in the power of that liberty of will which they have, may
decide to embrace the offer of grace." And a little farther
on he continues : " That vivification is attributed to grace :
because Reason, by which man discerns between good and
evil, and understands that he ought to abstain from the one
and to do the other, comes from God. And therefore
it is said that he does this under the inspiration of God :
because God enables him by the gift of Reason which He
has bestowed to recognize what is sinful." Such were the
errors William has extracted, among many others, from the
writings of Abaelard, and without doubt from his Theology,
which, perhaps because of these and other similar passages,
was mutilated by his scholars. Nor can we refuse to credit
the good faith of W illiam, who was a learned and pious
man : especially as Abaelard in his Book iv., on the Epistle
to the Romans, teaches the same hurtful doctrine (p
VOL. II. 3 6
554 NOTE TO THE FOLLOWING TREATISE.
and following). We learn from all these expressions of
Abaelard that he thought, or at least certainly wrote, with
the same impiety concerning the grace of Christ as he did
on the Incarnation, and that Bernard was perfectly correct
in saying (Letter 192): " He speaks of the Trinity like
Arius, of grace like Pelagius, and of the Person of Christ
like Nestorius." Proof of the truth of these words of
Bernard as concerns the two last charges will be found in
reading the letter given here ; and as to the third, it will be
sufficient to show that Bernard has in nowise exaggerated,
to read the end of Book iii. of the Theology of Abaelard ;
there it will be found in his own words, " that those w r ho
abhor our words respecting the faith may be easily con
vinced when they hear that God the Father and God the
Son are joined with us according to the sense of the
words." In what manner? " Let us ask, then," he con
tinues, " if they believe in the wisdom of God of which it
is written : Thou hast made all things with wisdom, O
Lord, and they will reply without hesitation that they do
so believe. But this is to believe in the Son ; as for believ
ing in the Holy Ghost, it is nothing else than believing in
the goodness of God." These words seem clearly to be
not only Arian, but even Sabellian, although, as I must
frankly confess, Abaelard formally rejects that error in its
logical consequences in another passage on p. 1069. But
especially in matters of faith, it is a matter of importance,
not only to think rightly, but also to speak and write with
exactness. Thus it is with reason that William of Saint
Thierry says in citing the very words of Abaelard with
respect to the brass and the seal, and with respect to power
in general and a certain power : " As for the Divine Persons,
he destroys them like Sabellius, and when he speaks of their
unlikeness and their inequality, he goes straight to the feet
of Arius in his opinion." I only cite these passages to
make those persons ashamed who, although they detest
these errors, yet take up the defence of Abaelard against
Bernard, and do not hesitate to accuse the latter of precipi
tation and of excess of zeal against him. William de
NOTE TO THE FOLLOWING TREATISE. 555
Conches expresses himself in almost the same manner as
Abaelard with respect to the mystery of the Holy Trinity,
and Abbot William of S. Thierry confutes his errors also
in his letter to Bernard. Nor is there anything worse that
can happen to religion than that philosophers should
attempt to explain the mysteries of our faith by the
power of Reason alone.
8. Geoffrey, secretary of S. Bernard, gives an account of
the whole business of Abaelard in a letter to Henry, Cardinal
and Bishop of Albano : "I have heard also that your
Diligence desires to know the entire truth respecting the
condemnation of Peter Abaelard, whose books Pope
Innocent II., of pious memory, condemned to be burned
solemnly at Rome in the Church of S. Peter, and declared
him by Apostolical authority to be a heretic. Some years
before a certain venerable Cardinal, Legate of the Roman
Church, by name Conon, once a Canon of the Church of S.
Nicholas of Artois, had already condemned his Theology in
the same way to be burned, during a council at Soissons in
which he presided, the said Abaelard having been present
and having been condemned of heretical pravity. If you
desire it he will satisfy you by the book of Tlie Life of S.
Bernard, and by his letters sent to Rome on that subject.
I have found also at Clairvaux a little book of a certain
Abbot of Black Monks, in which the errors of the same
Peter Abaelard are noted, and I remember to have seen it
on a previous occasion ; but for many years, as the keepers
of the books assert, the first four sheets of this little book,
although diligently sought for, could not be found. Because
of this I have had the intention to send some one into France
to the Abbey of the writer of that little book, so as, if I
should be able to recover ,it, to have it copied, and send it
to you. I believe that your curiosity will be completely
satisfied in learning in what respects, how, and wherefore
he was condemned."
It is thus that Geoffrey expresses himself. (Notes of
Duchesne to Abaelard.) I pass over the vision related by-
Henry, Canon of Tours, to the Fathers of the Synod
556 NOTE TO THE FOLLOWING TREATISE.
of Sens and to Bernard (Spicileg., Vol. xii. p. 478 ct
seqq.}.
g. After I had written what precedes, our brother, John
Durand, who was then occupied at Rome, sent me the
Capitula Hxresum Petri Abaelardi, which were placed at
the head of the following letter, taken from the very faulty
MS. in the Vatican, No. 663. These were, without doubt,
those which Bernard, at the end of this letter, states that
he had collected, and transmitted to the Pontiff. It seems
well to place them here for the illustration of the letter.
HEADS OF HERESIES OF PETER ABAELARD.
I. The shocking analogy made between a brazen seal, and
between genus and species, and the Holy Trinity-
" The Wisdom of God being a certain power, as a seal of
brass is a certain [portion of] brass ; it follows clearly that
the Wisdom of God has its being from His Power, similarly
as the brazen is said to be what it is from its material : or
the species derives what it is from its genus, which is, as it
were, the material of the species, as the animal is of man.
For just as, in order that there may be a brazen seal, there
must be brass, and in order that there may be man, there
must be the genus Animal, but not reciprocally: so, in
order that there may be the Divine Wisdom, which is the
power of discernment, there must be the Divine Power ;
but the reciprocal does not follow." And a little further
on we read: "The Beneficence, the name under which
the Holy Spirit is designated, is not in God Wisdom or
Power."
II. That the Holy Spirit is not of the Substance of tJie
Father.
"The Son and the Holy Spirit are of the Father, the
One by the way of generation, the Other by that of pro
cession. Generation differs from procession in that He
who is generated is of the very Substance of the Father,
whilst the essence of Wisdom itself is, as was said, to be
a certain Power." And a little further on we read : " As
NOTE TO THE FOLLOWING TREATISE. 557
for the Holy Spirit, although He be of the same Substance
with the Father and the Son, whence even the Trinity itself
is called consubstantial (homoousion], yet He is not at all of
the Substance of the Father or of the Son, as He would
be if generated of the Father or the Son; but rather He
has of them the Procession, which is that God, through
love, extends Himself to another than Himself. For like
as anyone proceeds through love from his own self to
another, since, as we have said above, no one can Im
properly said to have love towards himself, or to be
beneficent towards himself, but towards another. But this
is especially true of God, who having need of nothing, can
not be moved by the feeling of beneficence towards His
own self, to bestow something on Himself out of benefi
cence, but only towards creatures."
III. That God is able to do what He docs, or to refrain
from doing it, only in the manner or at the time in
which He does so act or refrain, and in no other.
" By the reasoning by which it is shown that God the
Father has generated the Son of as great goodness as He
was able, since otherwise He would have yielded to envy ;
it is also clear that all which He does or makes, He does or
makes as excellent as He is able to do ; nor does He will to
withhold a single good that He is capable of bestowing."
And a little farther on we read : " In everything that God
does, He so proposes to Himself that which is good, that it
maybe said of Him that He is made willing to do that which
He does rather by the price (as it were) of good, than by
the free determination of His own Will." Also: "From
this it therefore appears, and that both by reason and by
the Scriptures, that God is able to do that only which He
does." And a little farther: "Who, if He were able to
interfere with the evil things which are done, would yet
only do so at the proper time, since He can do nothing out
of the proper time ; consequently I do not see, in what
way He \vould not be consenting to sinful actions. For
who cm be said to consent to evil, except he by whom
558 NOTE TO THE FOLLOWING TREATISE.
it may be interfered with at the proper time?" Also:
" The reason which I have given above and the answers to
objections seem to me to make clear that God is able to do
what He does, or to refrain from doing it, only in the
manner or at the time, in which He does so act or refrain,
and in no other."
IV. That Christ did not assume our flesh in order to free-
us from the yoke of the devil.
" It should be known that all our Doctors who were after
the Apostles agree in this, that the devil had dominion and
power over man, and held him in bondage of right." And
a little farther on : " It seems to me that the devil has
never had any right over man, but rightly held him in
bondage as a jailer, God permitting ; nor did the Son of
God assume our flesh in order to free us from the yoke of
the devil." And again : " How does the Apostle say that
we are justified or reconciled to God by the death of His
Son, when on the contrary, He ought to have been more
angry still against man, who had committed in putting His
Son to death, a fault much more great than in transgressing
His first precept by eating one apple ; and would it not
have been more just? For if that first sin of Adam was so-
great, that it could not be expiated except by the death of
Christ ; what is there which can be capable of expiating
the Death of Christ itself, and all the great cruelties com
mitted upon Him and His Saints? (See Letter V. 21.)
Did the death of His innocent Son please God so much,,
that for the sake of it He has become reconciled to us, who
have caused it by our sins, on account of which the innocent
Lord was slain ? And could He forgive us a fault much
less great, only on condition that we committed a sin so-
enormous ? Were multiplied sins needful in order to the
doing of so great a good, as to deliver us from our sins and
to render us, by the death of the Son of God, more
righteous than we were before?" Again : " To whom will
it not seem cruel and unjust that one should have required
the innocent blood, or any price whatever, or that the
slaughter of the innocent, under any name or title, should
NOTE TO THE FOLLOWING TREATISE. 559
be pleasing to him ? Still less that God held the death of
His Son so acceptable that He would, for its sake, be
reconciled to the world. These and similar considerations
raise questions of great importance, not only concerning
redemption, but also concerning our justification by the
death of our Lord Jesus Christ. But it seems to me that
we were nevertheless justified by the Blood of Christ, and
reconciled with God by the special grace shown to us when
His Son took upon Him our nature, and in it gave us
an example both by word and deed, until His Death. He
has united us so closely with Him by His love for us, that
we are fired by so great benefit of Divine grace, and will
hesitate at no suffering, provided it be for Him. Which
benefit indeed we do not doubt aroused the ancient
Fathers, who looked forward to this by faith, to an ardent
love of God, as well as those of more recent time." And
below: "I think then that the cause and design of the
Incarnation was to enlighten the world with the wisdom of
God, and arouse it to love of Him."
V. Neither God-and-Man, nor the Man who is Christ,
is one of the three Persons in the Trinity.
" When I say that Christ is one of the Three Persons in
the Trinity I mean this: that the Word, who was from
eternity one of the Three Persons in the Trinity, is so ;
and I think that this expression is figurative. For if we
should regard it as literal, since the name of Christ means
He who is God-and-Man, then the sense would be, that
God-and-Man is one of the Three Persons of the Trinity.
Which is entirely false." And a little farther on : " It
should be stated that although we allow that Christ is one
of the Three Persons in the Trinity, yet we do not allow
that the Person who is Christ is one of the Three Persons
in the Trinity."
VI. That God does no more for a person who is saved,
before he has accepted grace offered , than for one
who is not saved.
" It is frequently asked whether it is true, as is said by
560 NOTE TO THE FOLLOWING TREATISE.
some persons, that all men need to be saved by the mercy
of God, and that their need is such that no one is able to
have the will to do good unless by the preventing grace of
God, which influences his heart and inspires in him the
will to do good, and multiplies it when produced, and pre
serves it after having been multiplied. If it is true that
man is not able to do anything good by himself, and that he
is incapable of raising himself up in any way whatever by
his free will for the reception of Divine grace, without the
help of that grace, as is asserted, it does not appear on what
ground, if he sins, he can be punished. For if he is not
able to do anything good of himself, and if he is so con
stituted that he is more inclined to evil than to good, is he
not free from blame if he sins, and is God who has given
to him a nature so weak and subvertible deserving of praise
for having created such a being? Or, on the contrary,
does it not rather seem that He merits to be reproached? "
And a little farther on : " If it were true that man is unable
to raise himself up without the grace of another, in order
to receive the Divine grace, there does not seem to be any
reason wherefore man should be held culpable ; and it
would seem that if he has not the grace of God the blame
should be rather reflected upon his Creator. But this is
not so, but very far otherwise, according to the truth of the
case, for we must lay down that man is able to embrace that
grace w r hich is offered to him by the reason which has,
indeed, been bestowed upon him by God ; nor does God do
anything more for a person, who is saved before he has
accepted the grace offered to him, than for another who is
not saved. In fact, God behaves with regard to men in like
manner as a merchant who has precious stones to sell, who
exhibits them in the market, and offers them equally to all,
so that he may excite in those w r ho view them a desire to
purchase. He who is prudent, and who knows that he has
need of them, labours to obtain the means, gains money
and purchases them ; on the contrary, he who is slow and
indolent, although he desires to have the jewels, and
although he may be also more robust in body than the
NOTE TO THE FOLLOWING TREATISE. 561
other, because he is indolent does not labour, and, there
fore, does not purchase them, so that the blame for being
without them belongs to himself. Similarly, God puts His
grace before the eyes of all, and advises them in the
Scriptures and by eminent doctors to avail themselves of
their freedom of will to embrace this offered grace ;
certainly he who is prudent and provident for his future,
acts according to his free will, in which he can embrace
this grace. But the slothful, on the contrary, is entangled
with carnal desires, and although he desires to attain
blessedness, yet he is never willing to endure labour in
restraining himself from evil, but neglects to do what he
ought, although he would be able by his free will to embrace
the grace offered him, and so he finds himself passed over
by the Almighty. 1
VII. That God ought not to hinder evil actions.
" In the first place, we must determine what it is to
consent to evil, and what not to do so. He, then, is said to
consent to evil who, when he can and ought to prevent it,
does not do so ; but if he ought to prevent it, but has not
the power, or if, on the contrary, though he has the power,
he ought not to do so, he is blameless. Much less if he
neither has the power, nor ought, if he had, to prevent it,
is he to be blamed. And, therefore, God is far from giving
consent to evil actions, since He neither ought, nor has the
power, to interfere with them. He ought not, since if an
action develops by His goodness in a particular manner,
than which none can be better, in no wise ought He to
wish to interfere with it. He is, furthermore, not able,
because His goodness, though it has chosen a minor good,
cannot put an obstacle to that which is greater.
VIII. That we have not contracted from Adam guilt, but
penalty.
" It should be known that when it is said, Original sin is
in infants, this is spoken of the penalty, temporal and eternal,
which is incurred by them through the fault of their first
562 NOTE TO THE FOLLOWING TREATISE.
parent." And a little farther on : " Similarly it is said,
In whom all have sinned (Rom. v. 12), in the sense that
when he (our first parent) sinned we were all in him in
germ. But it does not, therefore, follow that all have
sinned, since they did not then exist; for whoever does not
exist does not sin."
IX. That the Body of the Lord did not fall to the ground.
" On the subject of this species of Bread and Wine
which is turned into the Body of Christ it is asked whether
they continue to exist in the Body of Christ, in the sub
stance of bread and wine as they were before, or whether
they are in the air. It is probable that they exist in the air,
since the Body of Christ had its form and features, as
other human bodies. As for the Eucharistic species of
bread and wine, they serve only to cover and conceal the
Body of Christ in the mouth." And a little farther on :
" It is asked again concerning this, that it seems to be
multiple . . . wherefore it is ordered to be preserved from
one Saturday to the next, as we read was done with the
shew bread. It seems also to be gnawed by mice, and to
fall to the ground from the hands of a priest or deacon.
And, therefore, it is asked, wherefore God permits such
things to happen to His Body ; or whether, perhaps, these
things do not really happen to the Body, but are only so
done in appearance, and to the species ? To which I reply,
that these things do not really affect the Body, but that
God allows them to happen to the species in order to
reprove the negligence of the ministers. As for His
Body, He replaces and preserves it as it pleases Him to
do."
X. That man is made neither better nor -worse by works.
" It is frequently asked what it is that is recompensed by
the Lord : the work or the intention, or both. For authority
seems to decide that what God rewards eternally are works,
for the Apostle says God will render to every man accord
ing to his works (Romans ii. 6). And Athanasius says:
NOTE TO THE FOLLOWING TREATISE. 563
They will have to give account of their own works.
And a little farther on he says : And those who have done
good shall go into life eternal, but those who have done evil
into eternal fire (S. Matt. xxv. 46, and S. John v. 29).
But I say that they were eternally recompensed by God
either for good or for evil ; nor is man made either better
or worse because of works, at least only so far as that
while he is doing them his will towards either good or
evil gathers force. Nor is this contrary to the Apostle,
or to other authors, because when the Apostle says God
will render to each, etc., he puts the effect for the cause,
that is to say, the action for the will or intention.
XI. That those who crucified Christ ignorantly committed
no sin ; and that whatsoever is done through ignorance
ought not to be counted as a fault.
"There is objected to us the action of the Jews who have
crucified Christ ; that of the men who in persecuting the
Martyrs thought that they were doing God service ; and
finally that of Eve, who did not act against her conscience since
she was tempted, and yet it is certain that she committed sin.
To which I say that in truth those Jews in their simplicity
were not acting at all against their conscience, but rather
persecuted Christ from zeal for their law ; nor did they
think that they were acting wickedly, and, therefore, they
did not sin ; nor were any of them eternally condemned on
account of this, but because of their previous sins, because
of which they rightly fell into that state of darkness. And
among them were even some of the elect, for whom Christ
prayed, saying: Father, forgive them, for they know not
what they do (S. Luke xxxiii. 34). He did not ask in this
prayer that this particular sin might be forgiven to them,
since it was not really a sin, but rather their previous sins."
XII. Of the power of binding and* loosing.
"That which is said in S. Matthew, whatsoever ihou shalt
bind on earth, etc. (xvi. 19) is thus to be understood : What
soever thou shalt bind on eart/i, i.e., in the present life,
564 NOTE TO THE FOLLOWING TREATISE.
shall be bound also in heaven, i.e., in the present Church."
And a little farther on: " The Gospel seems to contradict
us when we say that God alone is able to forgive sins, for
Christ says to His disciples receive ye the Holy Ghost ;
whosoever s sins ye remit, they are remitted unto them
(S. John xx. 22, 23). But I say that this was spoken to the
Apostles alone, not to their successors." And immediately
he adds : " If, however, anyone shall say that this applies
also to their successors, it will be needful in that case to
explain this passage also in the same manner in w T hich I
have explained the preceding/
XIII. Concerning suggestion, delectation, and consent.
" It should be known also that suggestion is not a sin for
him to whom the suggestion is made, nor the delectation
which follows the suggestion, which delectation is produced
in the soul because of our weakness, and by the remem
brance of the pleasure which is bound in the accomplish
ment of the thing which the tempter suggests to our mind.
It is only consent, which is also called a contempt of
God, in which sin consists." And a little farther on :
" I do not say that the will of doing this or that, nor even
the action itself is sin, but rather, as has been said above,
that the contempt itself of God in some act of the will that
constitutes sin."
XIV. That Omnipotence belongs properly and specially to
the Father.
" If w r e refer power as well to the idea of Being as to
efficacy of working, we find Omnipotence to attach properly
and specially to the proprium of the Person of the Father :
since not only is He Almighty with the Two other Persons,
but also He alone possesses His Being from Himself and
not from another. And as He exists from Himself, so He
is equally Almighty by Himself."
LETTER CXC. 565
LETTER CXC. (A.D. 1140.)
To THK SAME, AGAINST CERTAIN HEADS OK AUAELARD S
HERESIES.
To his most loving Father and Lord, INNOCENT, Supreme
Pontiff, Brother BERNARD, called Abbot of Clairvaux,
sends humble greeting.
The dangers and scandals which are coming to the
surface in the Kingdom of God, especially those which
touch the faith, ought to be referred to your Apostolic
authority. For I judge it fitting that there most of all, the
losses suffered by the faith should be repaired, where faith
cannot suffer defect. This, truly, is the prerogative of your
see. For to what other person [than Peter] has it ever been
said, / have prayed for thee, Peter, that thy faith fail
not? (S. Luke xxii. 32). Therefore that which follows is
required from the successor of Peter: And when thou art
converted strengthen t/iy brethren. That, indeed, is
necessary now. The time is come, most loving Father, for
you to recognize your primacy, to prove your zeal, to do
honour to your ministry. In this plainly you fulfil tilt-
office of Peter, whose seat you occupy, if by your admoni
tion you strengthen the hearts that are wavering in tin-
faith, if by your authority you crush the corrupters of the
faith.
CHAPTER I.
He explains and refutes t/ie dogmas of Abaclard
respecting the Trinity.
i. We have in France an old teacher "turned into a new
theologian, who in his early days amused himself with
dialectics, and now gives utterance to wild imaginations
upon the Holy Scriptures. He is endeavouring again to
quicken false opinions, long ago condemned and put to
rest, not only his own, but those of others; and is adding
fresh ones as well. I know not what there is in heaven
566 LETTER CXC.
above and in the earth beneath which he deigns to
confess ignorance of: he raises his eyes to Heaven, and
searches the deep things of God, and then returning to us,
he brings back unspeakable words which it is not lawful for
a man to utter, while he is presumptuously prepared to give
a reason for everything, even of those things which are
above reason ; he presumes against reason and against
faith. For what is more against reason than by reason
to attempt to transcend reason ? And w r hat is more
against faith than to be unwilling to believe what
reason cannot attain ? For instance, wishing to ex
plain that saying of the wise man : He who is hasty to
believe is light in mind (Ecclus. xix. 4). He says that a
hasty faith is one that believes before reason ; when
Solomon says this not of faith towards God, but of mutual
belief amongst ourselves. For the blessed Pope Gregory
denies plainly that faith towards God has any merit what
ever if human reason furnishes it with proof. But he
praises the Apostles, because they followed their Saviour
when called but once (Horn, in Evang. 26). He knows
doubtless that this word was spoken as praise: At the
hearing of the ear he obeyed me (Ps. xviii. 44), that the
Apostles were directly rebuked because they had been
slow in believing (S. Mark xvi. 14). Again, Mary is
praised because she anticipated reason by faith, and
Zacharias punished because he tempted faith by reason
(S. Luke i. 20, 45), and Abraham is commended in that
.against hope he believed in hope (Rom. iv. 18).
2. But on the other hand our theologian says : " What
is the use of speaking of doctrine unless what we wish to
teach can be explained so as to be intelligible ? " And so
he promises understanding to his hearers, even on those
most sublime and sacred truths which are hidden in the
very bosom of our holy faith; and he places degrees in
the Trinity, modes in the Majesty, numbers in the
Eternity. He has laid down, for example, that God the
Father is full power, the Son a certain kind of power,
the Holy Spirit no power. And that the Son is related to
LETTER CXC. 567
the Father as force in particular to force in general, as
species to genus, as a thing formed of material, to matter, 1
as man to animal, as a brazen seal to brass. Did Arius ever
go further? Who can endure this? Who would not shut his
ears to such sacrilegious words ? Who does not shudder
at such novel profanities of words and ideas ? He says also
that " the Holy Spirit proceeds indeed from the Father and
the Son, but not from the substance of the Father or of the
Son." Whence then ? Perhaps from nothing, like every
thing created. But the Apostle does not deny that they
are of God, nor is he afraid to say : Of whom arc all
things (Rom. xi. 36). Shall we say then that the Holy
Spirit proceeds from the Father and the Son in no other
way than all things do, that is, that He exists not
essentially but by way of creation, and is therefore a
creature like all other things. Or will this man, who is
always seeking after new things, who invents what he
does not find, affirms those things which are not, as though
they are, will he find for himself some third way, in which
he may produce Him from the Father and the Son ? But,
he says, " if He were of the substance of the Father, He
would surely have been begotten, and so the Father would
have two Sons." As though everything which is from any
substance has always as its father that from which it is.
For lice and phlegm and such things, are they sons of tin-
flesh, and not rather of the substance of the flesh ? Or
worms produced by rotten wood, whence derive they their
substance but from the wood ? yet are they not sons of the
wood. Again, moths have their substance from the sub
stance of garments, but not their generation. And there
are many instances of this kind.
3. Since he admits that the Holy Spirit is consubstantial
with the Father and the Son, I wonder how an acute and
learned man (as at least he thinks himself) -can yet deny
that He proceeds in substance from the Father and tin-
Son, unless perchance he thinks that the two first persons
proceed from the substance of the third. But this is an
1 Material urn ; muter iu.
568 LETTER CXC.
impious and unheard of opinion. But if neither He
proceeds from their substance, nor They from His, where,
I pray, is the consubstantiality ? Let him then either con
fess with the Church that the Holy Spirit is of their
substance, from whom He does not deny that He proceeds,
or let him with Arius deny His consubstantiality, and
openly preach His creation. Again he says, if the Son is
of the substance of the Father, the Holy Spirit is not ; they
must differ from each other, not only because the Holy
Spirit is not begotten, as the Son is, but also because
the Son is of the substance of the Father, which the
Holy Spirit is not. Of this last distinction the Catholic
Church has hitherto known nothing. If we admit it, where
is the Trinity ? where is the Unity ? If the Holy Spirit
and the Son are really separated by this new enumeration
of differences, and if the Unity is split up, then especially
let it be made plain that that distinction which he is en
deavouring to make is a difference of substance. More
over, if the Holy Spirit does not proceed from the substance
of the Father and the Son, no Trinity remains, but a duality.
For no Person is worthy to be admitted into the Trinity
whose substance is not the same as that of the others.
Let him, therefore, cease to separate the procession of the
Holy Spirit from the substance of the Father and the Son,
lest by a double impiety he both take away number from
the Trinity and attribute it to the Unity, each of which the
Christian faith abhors. And, lest I seem in so great a
matter to depend on human reasonings only, let him read
the letter of Jerome to Avitus, and he will plainly see,
that amongst the other blasphemies of Origen which he
confutes, he also rejects this one, that, as he said, the Holy
Spirit is not of the substance of the Father. The blessed
Athanasius thus speaks in his book on the Undivided
Trinity: "When I spoke of God alone I meant not the
Person only of the Father, because I denied not that the
Son and the Holy Spirit are of this same Substance of the
Father."
LKTTKK CXC. 569
CHAPTER II.
/// the Trinity it is not possible to admit any disparity :
but equality is every way to be predicated.
4. Your holiness sees how in this man s scheme, which is
not reasoning but raving, 1 the Trinity does not hold
together and the Unity is rendered doubtful, and that this
cannot be without injury to the Majesty. For whatever
That is which is God, it is without doubt That than which
nothing greater can be conceived.- If, then, in this One and
Supreme Majesty we have found anything that is insufficient
or imperfect in our consideration of the Persons, or if we have
found that what is assigned to one is taken from another,
the whole is surely less than That, than which nothing
greater can be conceived. For indubitably the greatest
which is a whole is greater than that which consists of
parts. That man thinks worthily, as far as man can, of the
Divine Majesty who thinks of no inequality in It where the
whole is supremely great ; of no separation where the whole
is one ; of no chasm where the whole is undivided ; in short,
of no imperfection or deficiency where the whole is a whole.
For the Father is a whole, as are the Father, the Son and
the Holy Spirit ; the Son is a whole, as are He Himself
and the Father and the Holy Spirit ; the Holy Spirit is
a whole, as are He Himself and the Father and the Son.
And the whole Unity is a whole neither superabounding in
the Three, nor diminished in Each Person. For they do
not individually divide between Them that real and highest
Good which they are, since they do not possess It in the
way of participation, but are essentially the very Good.
For those phrases which we most rightly use, as One
from Another, or One to Another, are designations of the
Persons, not division of the Unity. For although in this
ineffable and incomprehensible essence of the Deity we
can, by the requirements of the properties of the Persons,
say One and Another in a sober and Catholic sense, yet
1 Nou disputiDite, sect demrntanle.
2 Ansclm greatly approves this idea respecting God in his Monolognim and
his /tpologeticus at the commencement.
VOL. ii. 37
570 LETTER CXC.
there is not in the essence One and Another, but simple
Unity; nor in the confession of the Trinity any derogation
to the Unity, nor is the true assertion of the Unity
any exclusion of the propria of the Persons. May that
execrable similitude of genus and species be accordingly as
far from our minds as it is from the rule of truth. It is not
a similitude, but a dissimilitude, as is also that of brass and
the brazen seal ; for since genus and species are to each
other as higher and lower, while God is One, there can
never be any resemblance between equality so perfect and
disparity so great. And again, with regard to his illustra
tion of brass, and the brass which is made into a seal,
since it is used for the same kind of similitude, it is to be
similarly condemned. For since, as I have said, species is
less than and inferior to genus, far be it from us to think of
such diversity between the Father and the Son. Far be it
from us to agree with him who says that the Son is related
to the Father as species to genus, as man to animal, as a
brazen seal to brass, as force to force absolutely. For all
these several things by the bond of their common nature
are to each other as superiors and inferiors, and therefore
no comparison is to be drawn from these things with That
in which there is no inequality, no dissimilarity. You see
from what unskilfulness or impiety the use of these simili
tudes descends.
CHAPTER III.
The absurd doctrine of Abaelard, who attributes
properly and specifically the absolute and essential names
to one Person, is opposed.
5. Now notice more clearly what he thinks, teaches, and
writes. He says that Power properly and specially belongs
to the Father, Wisdom to the Son, which, indeed, is false.
For the Father both is, and is most truly called, Wisdom,
and the Son Power, and what is common to Both is not the
proprium of Each singly. There are certainly some other
names which do not belong to Both, but to One or the
Other alone, and therefore His own Name is peculiar to
LETTER CXC. 571
Each, and not common to the Other. For the Father is not
the Son, nor the Son the Father, for He is designated by the
name of Father, not because He is the Father with regard to
Himself, but with regard to His Son, and in like manner by
the name of Son is expressed not that He is Son with regard
to Himself, but to the Father. It is not so with power and
many other attributes which arc assigned to the Father and
the Son in common, and not singly to Each taken by Himself.
But he says, " No; we find that omnipotence belongs espe
cially to the proprium of the Person of the Father, because
He not only can do all things in union with the other two Per
sons, but also because He alone has His existence from Him
self, and not from Another, and as He has His existence from
Himself, so has He His power/ O, second Aristotle ! By
parity of reasoning, if such were reasoning, would not
Wisdom and Kindness belong properly to the Father, since
equally the Father has His Wisdom and Kindness from Him
self, and not from another, just as He has His Being and
His Power ? And if he does not deny this, as he cannot
reasonably do, what, I ask, will he do with that famous par
tition of his in which, as he has assigned Power to the
Father and Wisdom to the Son, so he has assigned Loving
Kindness to the Holy Spirit properly and specially ? For
one and the same thing cannot well be the proprium of two,
that is, to be the exclusive property of each. Let him
choose which alternative he will : either let him give
Wisdom to the Son and take It from the Father, or
assign It to the Father and deny It to the Son ; and again,
let him assign Loving Kindness to the Spirit without the
Father, or to the Father without the Spirit ; or let him
cease to call attributes which are common, propria ; and
though the Father has his Power from Himself, yet let him
not dare to concede It to Him as being a. proprium, lest on
his own reasoning he be obliged to assign Him Wisdom and
Loving Kindness which He has in precisely the same way,
as His propria also.
6. But let us now wait and see in how theoretic a
manner our theologian regards the invisible things of God.
He says, as I have pointed out, that omnipotence properly
572 LETTER CXC.
belongs to the Father, and He makes it to consist in the
fulness and perfection of Rule and discernment. Again, to
the Son he assigns Wisdom, and that he defines to be not
Power simply, but a certain kind of Power in God, namely,
the Power of discernment only. Perhaps he is afraid of
doing an injury to the Father if he gives as much to the
Son as to Him, and since he dares not give Him complete
power, he grants Him half. And this that he lays down he
illustrates by common examples, asserting that the Power
of discernment which the Son is, is a particular kind of
Power, just as a man is a kind of animal, and a brazen seal
a particular form of brass, which means that the power of
discernment is to the pow r er of Rule and discernment, i.e.,
the Son is to the Father, as a man to an animal, or as a brazen
seal to brass. For, as he says, u a brazen seal must first be
brass, and a man to be a man must first be an animal, but
not conversely. So Divine Wisdom, which is the power of
discernment, must be first Divine Power, but not conversely
(Abael. Theol. B. ii. p. 1083). Do you, then, mean that,
like the preceding similitudes, your similitude demands
that the Son to be the Son must first be the Father,
z>., that He who is the Son is the Father, though not con
versely ? If you say this you are a heretic. If you do not
your comparison is meaningless.
7. For why do you fashion for yourself the comparison,
and with such beating about the bush, apply it to questions
long ago settled and ill-fitted for debate? Why do you
bring it forward with such waste of energy, impress it on
us with such a useless multiplicity oi words, produce it
with such a flourish, if it does not effect the purpose for
which it was adduced, viz., that the members be harmonized
with each other in fitting proportions? Is not this a labour
and a toil, to teach us by means of it, the relation which exists
between the Father and the Son ? We hold according to
you, that a man being given an animal is given, but not con
versely, at least by the rule of your logic ; for by it it is not
that when the genus is given we know the species, but the
species being given we know the genus. Since, then, you com-
LETTER CXC. 573
pare the Father to the genus, the Son to the species, does
not the condition of your comparison postulate, that in like
manner, when the Son is known you declare the Father to
be known and not conversely ; that, as he who is a man is
necessarily an animal, but not conversely, so also, He who
is the Son is necessarily the Father, but not conversely ?
But the Catholic faith contradicts you on this point, for it
plainly denies both, viz., that the Father is the Son, and that
the Son is the Father. For indubitably the Father is one
Person, the Son another ; although the Father is not of a
different substance from the Son. For by this distinction
the godliness of the Faith knows ho\v to distinguish
cautiously between the propria of the Persons, and the
undivided unity of the Essence ; and holding a middle
course, to go along the royal road, turning neither to the
right by confounding the Persons, nor looking to the left
by dividing the Substance. But if you say that it rightly
follows as a necessary truth that He who is the Son is also
the Father, this helps you nothing ; for an identical pro
position is necessarily capable of being converted in such
a way that what was true of the original proposition is
true of the converse ; and your comparison of genus and
species, or of brass and the brazen seal does not admit of
this. For as it does not follow as a necessary consequence
that the Son is the Father, and the Father the Son, so
neither can we rightly produce a convertible consequence
between man and animal, and between a brazen seal and
brass. For though it be true to say, " If he is a man he is
an animal," still the converse is not true, " If he is an
animal he is a man." And again, if we have a brazen seal
it necessarily follows that it is brass ; but if we have brass
it does not necessarily follow that it is a brazen seal. But
now let us proceed to his other points.
8. Lo ! according to him we have omnipotence in the
Father, a certain power in the Son. Let him tell us
also what he thinks of the Holy Spirit. That loving-kind
ness, he says, which is denoted by the name of the Holy
Spirit is not in God power or wisdom (Theol. ii. 1085). /
574 LETTER CXC.
saw Satan as lightning fall from heaven (S. Luke x. 18),
So ought he to fall who exercises himself in great matters,
and in things that are too high for him. You see, Holy
Father, what ladders, nay what dizzy heights, he has set up
for his own downfall. All power, half power, no power. I
shudder at the very words, and I think that very horror
enough for his confutation. Still, I will bring forward
a testimony which occurs to my troubled mind, so as to
remove the injury done to the Holy Spirit. We read in
Isaiah : The Spirit of wisdom, the Spirit of ghostly strength
(Is. xi. 2). By this his audacity is plainly and sufficiently
answered, even if it is not crushed. Be it that blasphemy
against the Father or the Son may be forgiven, will
blasphemy against the Spirit ? The Angel of the Lord is
waiting to cut you asunder ; for you have said " The Holy
Spirit in God is not power or wisdom." So the foot of
pride stumbles when it intrudes [where it ought not].
CHAPTER IV.
Abaelard had defined faith as an opinion or estimate:
Bernard refutes this.
9. It is no wonder if a man who is careless of what he
says should, when rushing into the mysteries of the Faith,
so irreverently assail and tear asunder the hidden treasures
of godliness, since he has neither piety nor faith in his
notions about the piety of faith. For instance, on the very
threshold of his theology (I should rather say his stultology)
he defines faith as private judgment ; as though in these
mysteries it is to be allowed to each person to think and
speak as he pleases, or as though the mysteries of our faith
are to hang in uncertainty amongst shifting and varying
opinions, when on the contrary they rest on the solid and
unshakable foundation of truth. Is not our hope baseless
if our faith is subject to change? Fools then were our
martyrs for bearing so cruel tortures for an uncertainty,
and for entering, without hesitation, on an everlasting exile,
through a bitter death, when there was a doubt as to the
recompense of their reward. But far be it from us to think
LKTTKR CXC. 575
that in our faith or hope anything, as he supposes, depends
on the fluctuating judgment of the individual, and that the
whole of it does not rest on sure and solid truth, having
been commended by miracles and revelations from above,
founded and consecrated by the Son of the Virgin, by the
Blood of the Redeemer, by the glory of the risen Christ.
These infallible proofs have been given us in super
abundance. But if not, the Spirit itself, lastly, bears
witness with our spirit that we are the sons of God. How,
then, can any one dare to call faith opinion, unless it be
that he has not yet received that Spirit, or unless he either
knows not the Gospel or thinks it to be a fable ? / know in
-whom I have believed, and I am confident (2 Tim. i. 12),
cries the Apostle, and you mutter in my ears that faith is
only an opinion. Do you prate to me that that is
ambiguous than which there is nothing more certain ?
But Augustine says otherwise : " Faith is not held by any
one in whose heart it is, by conjectures or opinions, but it
is sure knowledge and has the assent of the conscience."
Far be it from us, then, to suppose that the Christian faith
has as its boundaries those opinions of the Academicians,
whose boast it is that they doubt of everything, and know
nothing. But I for my part walk securely, according to the
saying of the teacher of the Gentiles, and I know that I
shall not be confounded. I am satisfied, I confess, with his
definition of faith, even though this man stealthily accuses
it. Faith, he says, is the substance of things hoped for,
the evidence of things not seen (Heb. xi. i). The substance,
he says, of things hoped for, not a phantasy of empty
conjectures. You hear, that it is a substance ; and therefore
it is not allowed you in our faith, to suppose or oppose at
your pleasure, nor to wander hither and thither amongst
empty opinions, through devious errors. Under the name
of substance something certain and fixed is jnit before you.
You are enclosed in known bounds, shut in within fixed
limits. For faith is not an opinion, but a certitude.
10. But now notice other points. I pass over his saying
that the spirit of the fear of the Lord was not in the Lord ;
that there will be no holv fear of the Lord in the world to
57 6 LETTER CXC.
come ; that after the consecration of the bread and of the cup,
the former accidents which remain are suspended in the air;
that the suggestions of devils come to us, as their sagacious
wickedness knows how, by the contact of stones and herbs ;
and that they are able to discern in such natural objects
strength suited to excite various passions ; that the Holy
Spirit is the anima miindi ; that the world, as Plato says,
is so much a more excellent animal, as it has a better soul
in the Holy Spirit. Here while he exhausts his strength
to make Plato a Christian, he proves himself a heathen.
All these things and his other numerous silly stories of the
same kind I pass by, I come to graver matters. To answer
them all would require volumes. I speak only of those on
which I cannot keep silence.
CHAPTER V.
He accuses Abaelard for preferring his own opinions and
even fancies to the unanimous consent of the Fathers,
especially where he declares that Christ did not become
incarnate in order to save man from the power of tlic devil.
ii. I find in a book of his sentences, and also in an
exposition of his of the Epistle to the Romans, that this
rash inquirer into the Divine Majesty attacks the mystery
of our Redemption. He admits in the very beginning of
his disputation that there has never been but one conclu
sion in our ecclesiastical doctors on this point, and this he
states only to spurn it, and boasts that he has a better ;
not fearing, against the precept of the Wise Man, To cross
the ancient boundaries which our fathers have marked out
(Prov. xxii. 28). It is needful to know, he says, that all our
doctors since the Apostles agree in this, that the devil had
power and dominion over man, and that he rightly
possessed it, because man, by an act of the free will which
he had, voluntarily consented to the devil. For they say
that if any one conquers another, the conquered rightly
becomes the slave of his conqueror. Therefore, he says,
as the doctors teach, the Son of God became incarnate
under this necessity, that since man could not otherwise
LETTKR CXC. 577
be freed, he might, by the death of an innocent man, be
set free from the yoke of the devil. But as it seems to us,
he says, neither had the devil ever any power over man,
except by the permission of God, as a jailer might, nor was
it to free man that the Son of God assumed flesh. Which
am I to think the more intolerable in these words, the
blasphemy or the arrogance ? Which is the more to be
condemned, his rashness or his impiety? Would not the
mouth of him who speaks such things be more justly beaten
with rods than confuted with reasons? Does not he whose
hand is against every man, rightly provoke every man s
hand to be raised against him ? All, he says, say so, but
so do not I. What, then, do you say? What better
statement have you ? What more subtle reason have you
discovered ? What more secret revelation do you boast
of which has passed by the Saints and escaped from the
wise? He, 1 suppose, will give us secret waters and
hidden bread.
12. Tell us, nevertheless, that truth which has shown
itself to you and to none else. Is it that it was not to free
man that the Son of God became man ? No one, you
excepted, thinks this ; you stand alone. For not trom a
wise man, nor prophet, nor apostle, nor even from the
Lord Himself have you received this. The teacher of the
Gentiles received from tJic Lord what he has handed down
to us (i Cor. xi. 23). The Teacher of all confesses that
His doctrine is not His own, for / do not, He says, speak
of Myself (S. John vii. 16 and xiv. 10), while you give us of
your own, and what you have received from no one. He
who speaketh a lie speaketh of his own (Ibid. viii. 44).
Keep for yourself what is your own. I listen to Prophets and
Apostles, I obey the Gospel, but not the Gospel according
to Peter. Do you found for us a new Gospel ? The Church
does not receive a fifth Evangelist. What othec Gospel do the
Law, the Prophets, apostles, and apostolic men preach to us
than that which you alone deny, viz., that God became man
to free man ? And if an angel from heaven should preach
to us any other Gospel, let him be anathema.
13. But you do not accept the Doctors since the Apostles,
578 LETTER CXC.
because you perceive yourself to be a man above all teachers.
For example, you do not blush to say that all are against
you, when they all agree together. To no purpose, there
fore, should I place before you the faith and doctrine of
those teachers whom you have just proscribed. I will
take you to the Prophets. Under the type of Jerusalem
the prophet speaks, or rather the Lord in the prophet
speaks to His chosen people : / will save you and deliver
you, fear not (Wisd. iii. 16). You ask, from what power?
For you do not admit that the devil has or ever has had
power over man. Neither, I confess, do I. It is not, however,
that he has it not because you and I wish it not. If you do
not confess it, you know it not ; they whom the Lord has
redeemed out of the hand of the enemy , they know it and
confess it. And you would by no means deny it, if you
were not under the hand of the enemy. You cannot give
thanks with the redeemed, because you have not been
redeemed. For if you had been redeemed you would
recognize your Redeemer, and would not deny your
redemption. Nor does the man, who knows not himself to
be a captive, seek to be redeemed. Those who knew it
called unto the Lord, and the Lord heard them, and
redeemed them from the hand of the enemy. And that
you may understand who this enemy is, He says : Those
whom He redeemed from the hand of the enemy He
gathered out of all lands (Ps. cvii. 2, 3). But first, indeed,
recognize Him Who gathered them, of Whom Caiaphas in
the Gospel prophesied, saying that Jesus should die for the
people, and the Evangelist proceeds thus : And not for
that nation only, but that He might gather together into
one all the children of God which were scattered abroad
(S. John xi. 51, 52). Whither had they been scattered ? Into
all lands. Therefore those whom He redeemed he gathered
together from all lands. He first redeemed, then gathered
them. For they were not only scattered, but also taken
captive. He redeemed and gathered them ; but redeemed
them from the hand of the enemy. He does not say of
the enemies, but of the enemy. The enemy was one,
the lands many. Indeed, he gathered them not from one
LKTTER CXC. 579
land, but from the lands, from the east and from the west,
from the north and from the south. What Lord was there
so powerful, who governed not one land but all lands?
No other, I suppose, than He who by another prophet is
said to drink up a river, that is, the human race, and not
to wonder; and to trust that he can also draw up into his
mouth Jordan, i.e., the elect (Job xl. 18). Blessed are they
who so flow in that they can flow out, who so enter that
they can go out.
14. But now perhaps you do not believe the Prophets, thus
speaking with one accord of the power of the devil over man.
Come with me then to the Apostles. You said, did you not ?
that you do not agree with those who have come since the
Apostles ; may you agree then with the Apostles ; and per
haps that may happen to you which one of them describes,
speaking of certain persons : If God, per adventure, will give
them repentance to the acknowledging of the truth, and that
they may recover themselves out of the snare of the devil,
who are taken captive by him at his will (2 Tim. ii. 25, 26).
It is Paul who thus asserts that men are taken captive by
the devil at his will. Do you hear? " at his will ; " and do
you deny his power ? But if you do not believe Paul, come
now to the Lord Himself, if perchance you may listen to
Him and be put to silence. By Him the devil is called the
prince of this world (S. John xiv. 30), and the strong man
armed (S. Luke xi. 21), and the possessor of goods (S. Matt,
xii. 29), and yet you say that he has no power over men.
Perhaps you think the house in this place is not to be
understood of the world, nor the goods of men. But if the
world is the house of the devil and men his goods, how can
it be said he has no power over men ? Moreover, the Lord
said to those who took Him : This is vour hour and the
power of darkness (S. Luke xxii. 53). That power did not
escape him who said : Who hath delivered*, us from the
power of darkness, and hath translated us into the kingdom
of His dear Son (Col. i. 13). The Lord then neither denied
the power of the devil even over Him, nor that of Pilate,
who was a member of the devil. He said : Thou couldst
have no power against me at all except it were given thee
580 LETTER CXC.
from above (S. John xix. n). But if that power given
from above so violently raged against the green tree, how
is it that it did not dare to touch the dry ? Nor I suppose
will he say, that it was an unjust power which \vas given
from above. Let him, therefore, learn that not only had
the devil power over man, but also a just power, and in
consequence let him see this, that the Son of God came
in the flesh to set man free. But though we say that
the power of the devil w 7 as a just one we do not say
that his will was. Whence it is not the devil who usurped
the power, who is just, nor man who deservedly was sub
jected to it ; but the Lord is just, who permitted the
subjection. For anyone is called just and unjust, not from
his power but from his will. This power of the devil over
man though not rightly acquired, but wickedly usurped,
was yet justly permitted. And in this way man was
justly taken captive, viz., that the justice was neither in
the devil, nor in man, but in God.
CHAPTER VI.
/// the work of the Redemption of man, not only the
mercy, but also the justice, of God is displayed.
15. Man therefore was lawfully delivered up, but merci
fully set free. Yet mercy was shown in such a way that
a kind of justice was not lacking even in his liberation,
since, as was most fitting for man s recovery, it was
part of the mercy of the liberator to employ justice
rather than power against man s enemy. For what could
man, the slave of sin, fast bound by the devil, do of him
self to recover that righteousness which he had formerly
lost ? Therefore he who lacked righteousness had another s
imputed to him, and in this way : The prince of this
world came and found nothing in the Saviour, and because
he notwithstanding laid hands on the Innocent he lost
most justly those whom he held captive ; since He who
ow r ed nothing to death, lawfully freed him who was subject
LKTTKK CXC. 581
to it, both from the debt of death, and the dominion of
the devil, by accepting the injustice of death; for with
what justice could that be exacted from man a second
time ? It was man who owed the debt, it was man who
paid it. For if one, says S. Paul, died for all, then were
nil dead (2 Cor. v. 14), so that, as One bore the sins of
all, the satisfaction of One is imputed to all. It is not
that one forfeited, 1 another satisfied ; the Head and body
is one, viz., Christ. The Head, therefore, satisfied for the
members, Christ for His children, since, according to the
Gospel of Paul, by which Peter s- falsehood is refuted,
He who died for us, quickened us together with Himself,
forgiving us all our trespasses, blotting out the hand
writing of ordinances that was against us, and took il
out of the way , nailing it to His cross, having spoiled
principalities and powers (Col. ii. 13, 14).
1 6. May I be found amongst those spoils of which the
opposing powers were deprived, and be handed over into
the possession of my Lord. It Laban pursue me and
reproach me for having left him by stealth, he shall be
told that I came to him by stealth, and therefore so left
him. The secret power of sin subjected me, the hidden
plan of righteousness freed me from him ; or I will reply,
that if I was sold for nothing shall I not be freely re
deemed ? If Asshur has reproached me without cause, he
has no right to demand the cause of my escape. But if he
says, "Your father sold you into captivity," I will reply, "But
my Brother redeemed me." Why should not righteousness
come to me from another when guilt came upon me from
1 Forefrcit, i.e., offended or transgressed. Forisfuctura or forefuciiim denoted
the crime or offence : and the former word is also used to signify the penalty of
a crime. Forixfuctus is the criminal himself. Semis forisfactus is a free man
who has been reduced to slavery as a punishment for crime (Legil-us Athelstaii.
Krg. c. 3). From this word is the French forfaire, furfuit ; and the English
forfeit, forfeiture.
It will be seen that the word is a legal term adopted into the language of
theology. The earliest instance of its use is apparently in the Glossa of Isidore.
See Du Gauge s Glossary s.v. Forhfacere. Forcellini s ed. of Facciolati does
not give the word. [E.]
3 i.e., Abaelard.
582 LETTER CXC.
another ? One made me a sinner, the other justifies me from
sin ; the one by generation, the other by His blood. Shall
there be sin in the seed of the sinner and not righteous
ness in the blood of Christ? But he will say, "Let
righteousness be whose it may, it is none of yours." Be it
.so. But let guilt also be whose it may, it is none of mine.
Shall the righteousness of the righteous be upon him, and
the wickedness of the wicked not be upon him ? It is not
hitting for the son to bear the iniquity of the father, and yet
to have no share in the righteousness of his brother. But
now r by man came death, by Man also came life. For as in
Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive
(i Cor. xv. 21, 22). I attain to one and to the other in the
same way: to the one by the flesh, to the other by faith.
And if from the one I was infected with concupiscence
from my birth, by Christ spiritual grace was infused into
me. What more does this hired advocate bring against
me ? If he urges generation, I oppose regeneration ; and add
that the former is but carnal, while the latter is spiritual. Nor
does equity suffer that they fight as equals, but the higher
nature is the more efficacious cause, and therefore the spirit
must necessarily overcome the flesh. In other words, the
second birth is so much the more beneficial as the first was
baneful. The offence, indeed, came to me, but so did
grace ; and not as the offence so also is the free gift ; for
the judgment was by one to condemnation, but the free
gift is of many offences unto justification (Rom. v. 16).
From the first man flowed down the offence, from the
highest heaven came down the free gift: both from our
father, one from our first father, the other from the Supreme
Father. My earthly birth destroys me, and does not my
heavenly much more save me ? And I am not afraid of
being rejected by the Father of lights when I have been
rescued in this way from the power of darkness, and justi
fied through His grace by the blood of His Son : It is God
.that justifieth, who is he that condemneth ? He who had
mercy on the sinner will not condemn the righteous ; I
.mean that I am righteous, but it is in His righteousness, for
LKTTER CXC. 583
Christ is the end of the law for righteousness to every one
that believeth (Rom. x. 4). In short, He was made our
righteousness by God the Father (i Cor. i. 30). Is not that
righteousness mine which was made for me? If my guilt
was inherited, why should not my righteousness be accorded
to me ? And, truly, what is given me is safer than what was
born in me. For this, indeed, has whereof to glory, but not
before God; but that, since it is effectual to my salvation,
has nothing whereof to glory save in the Lord. For if I
be righteous, says Job, yet will I not lift up my head (Job
x. 15), lest 1 receive the answer: What hast thou that t lion
didst not receive ? now if t/iou didst receive it, why dost
thou glory as if tJwu hadst not received it ? (i Cor. iv. 7).
CHAPTER VII.
He severely reproves Abaelard for scrutinizing rashly
and impiously, and extenuating the power of, the secret
things of God.
17. This is the righteousness of man in the blood of tin-
Redeemer: which this son of perdition, by his scoffs and
insinuations, is attempting to render vain ; so much so,
that he thinks and argues that the whole fact that the Lord
of Glory emptied Himself, that He was made lower than the
angels, that He was born of a woman, that He lived in tin-
world, that He made trial of our infirmities, that Ht-
suffered indignities, that at last He returned to His own
place by the way of the Cross, that all this is to be reduced
to one reason alone, viz., that it was done merely that He
might give man by His life and teaching a rule of life, and
by His suffering and death might set before him a goal of
charity. Did He, then, teach righteousness and not bestow
it? Did He show charity and not infuse it, and did He so
return to His heaven? Is this, then, the whole of tin-
great mystery of godliness, which was manifested in the
flesh, justified in the Spirit, seen of angels, preached unto
the Gentiles, believed on in the world, received up into
584 LETTER CXC.
%lory (i Tim. iii. 16). O, incomparable doctor! he lays
bare to himself the deep things of God, he makes them
clear and easy to every one, and by his false teaching he so
renders plain and evident the most lofty sacrament of grace,
the mystery hidden from the ages, that any uncircumcised
and unclean person can lightly penetrate to the heart of it :
as though the wisdom of God knew not how to guard or
neglected to guard against what Itself forbade, but had
Itself given what is holy to the dogs and cast its pearls
before swine. But it is not so. For though it was mani
fested in the flesh, yet it was justified in the Spirit: so
that spiritual things are bestowed upon spiritual men, and
the natural man does not perceive the things which are of
the Spirit of God. Nor does our faith consist in wisdom of
words but in the power of God. And, therefore, the
Saviour says : / thank Thee, O Father, Lord of heaven
and earth, because Thozi hast hid these things from the wise
and prudent, and hast revealed them unto babes (S. Matt,
xi. 25). And the Apostle says: If our Gospel be hid, it is
hid to them that are lost (2 Cor. iv. 3).
1 8. But see this man scoffing at the things which are of
the Spirit of God, because they seem to him folly, and
insulting the Apostle who speaks the hidden wisdom of
God in a mystery, inveighing against the Gospel and even
blaspheming the Lord. How much more prudent would he
be if he would deign to believe what -he has no power to
comprehend, and would not dare to despise or tread under
foot this sacred and holy mystery ! It is a long task to
reply to all the follies and calumnies which he charges
against the Divine counsel. Yet I take a few, from which
the rest may be estimated. " Since," he says, " Christ set
free the elect only, how were they more than now, whether
in this world or the next, under the power of the devil?"
I answer: It was just because they were under the power
of the devil, by whom, says the Apostle, they were taken
captive at his will (2 Tim. ii. 26), that there was need of
a liberator in order that the purpose of God concerning
them might be fulfilled. But it behoved Him to set them
LETTER CXC. 585
free in this world, that He might have them as freeborn
sons in the next. Then he rejoins : " Well, did the devil
also torture the poor man who was in the bosom of
Abraham as he did the rich man who was condemned, or
had he power over Abraham himself and the rest of the
elect?" No, but he would have had if they had not been
set free by their faith in a future Deliverer, as of Abraham
it is written : Abraham believed God , and it was counted
unto him for righteousness (Gen. xv. 6). Again : Abraliam
rejoiced to see My day, and he saw it and was glad (S. John
viii. 56). Therefore even then the Blood of Christ was
bedewing Lazarus, that he might not feel the flames, because
he had believed on Him who should suffer. So are we to
think of all the saints of that time, that they were born just
as ourselves under the power of darkness, because of
original sin, but rescued before they died, and that by
nothing else but the blood of Christ. For it is written :
The multitudes that went before and that followed, cried
saying, Hosanna to the Son of Dai id, Blessed is He that
cometh in the Name of the Lord (S. Matt. xxi. 9). There
fore blessing was given to Christ coming in the flesh, both
before he came and afterwards, by multitudes of those who
had been blessed by Him, although those who went before
did not obtain a full blessing, this, of course, having been
kept as the prerogative of the time of grace.
CHAPTER VIII.
Wherefore Christ undertook a method of setting us free
so painful and laborious, when a word from Him, or
an act of His will, would alone hai c sufficed.
19. Then he labours to teach and persuade us that the
devil could not and ought not to have claimed for himself
any right over man, except by the permission of God, and
that, without doing any injustice to the devil, God could
have called back his deserter, if He wished to show him
mercy, and have rescued him by a word only, as though
VOL. II. 38
586 LETTER CXC.
anyone denies this ; then after much more he proceeds :
And so what necessity, or what reason, or what need was
there, when the Divine compassion by a simple command
could have freed man from sin, for the Son of God to take
flesh for our redemption, to suffer so many and such great
privations, scorn, scourgings, and spittings on, in short, the
pain and ignominy of the cross itself, and that with evil
doers?" I reply: The necessity was ours, the hard
necessity of those sitting in darkness and the shadow of
death. The need, equally ours, and God s, and the Holy
Angels ! Ours, that He might remove the yoke of our
captivity; His own, that He might fulfil the purpose of His
will; the Angels , that their number might be filled up.
Further, the reason of this deed was the good pleasure of
the Doer. Who denies that there were ready for the
Almighty other and yet other w r ays to redeem us, to justify
us, to set us free ? But this takes nothing from the efficacy
of the one which He chose out of many. And, perhaps,
the greatest excellence of the way chosen is that in a land
of forgetfulness, of slowness of spirit, and of constant offend
ing, we are more forcibly and more vividly warned by so
many and such great sufferings of our Restorer. Beyond
that no man knows, nor can know to the full, what treasures
of grace, what harmony with wisdom, what increase of glory,
what advantages for salvation the inscrutable depth of this
holy mystery contains within itself, that mystery which the
Prophet when considering trembled at, but did not pene
trate (Habak. iii. 2 in LXX.), and which the forerunner of the
Lord thought himself unworthy to unloose (S. John i. 27).
20. But though it is not allowed us to scrutinize the
mystery of the Divine Will, yet we may feel the effect of
its work and perceive the fruit of its usefulness. And what
we may know we may not keep to ourselves, for to conceal
their word is to give glory to kings, but God is glorified by
our investigating His sayings. [Prov. xxv. 2. But the
sense of the text is the reverse of this.] Faithful is the
saying and worthy of all acceptation, that while we were
yet sinners we were reconciled to God by the death of His
LETTER CXC. 587
Son (Rom. v. 10). " Where there is reconciliation there is
also remission of sins. For if, as the Scripture says, our sins
separate between us and God" (Is. lix. 2), there is no
reconciliation while sin remains. In what, then, is remis
sion of sins? This cup, He says, is the new testament
in My Blood which shall be shed for you for the remission
of sins (S.Matt. xxvi. 28). Therefore where there is recon
ciliation there is remission of sins. And what is that but
justification ? Whether, therefore, we call it reconciliation,
or remission of sins, or justification, or, again, redemption,
or liberation from the chains of the devil, by whom we were
taken captive at his will, at all events by the death of the
Only Begotten, we obtain that we have been justified freely
by His blood, /;/ whom, as S. Paul says again, we have
redemption through His blood, the forgiveness of sins,
according to the riches of His grace (Eph. i. 7). You say,
Why by His blood when He could have wrought it by His
\Vord ? Ask Himself. It is only allowed me to know that
it is so, not why it is so. Shall the thing formed say to
Him that formed it, " Why hast Thou made me thus ? "
21. But these things seem to him foolishness, he cannot
restrain his laughter; listen to his jeering. " Why does
the Apostle say," he asks, "that we are justified, or
reconciled to God by the death of His Son, when He
ought to have been the more angry with man, as he sinned
more deeply in crucifying His Son, than in transgressing
His first command by tasting of the apple?" As if the
iniquity of the malignant were not able to displease, and
the godliness of the sufferer to please God, and that in one
and the same act. " But," he replies, " if that sin of Adam
was so heinous that it could not be expiated but bv tin-
death of Christ, what expiation shall suffice for that
homicide which was perpetrated upon Christ?" I answer
in two words, That very Blood which they Shed, and the
prayer of Him whom they slew. He asks again : " Did the
death of His innocent Son so please God the Father that by
it He was reconciled to us, who had committed such a sin
in Adam, that because of it our innocent Lord was slain ?
LETTER CXC.
Would He not have been able to forgive us much more
easily if so heinous a sin had not been committed ? " It was
not His death alone that pleased the Father, but His volun
tary surrender to death ; and by that death destroying death,
working salvation, restoring innocence, triumphing over
principalities and powers, spoiling hell, enriching heaven,
making peace between things in heaven and things on
earth, and renewing all things. And since this so precious
death to be voluntarily submitted to against sin could not
take place except through sin, He did not indeed delight
in, but He made good use of, the malice of the wrong
doers, and found the means to condemn death and sin by
the death of His Son, and the sin [of those who condemned
Him]. And the greater their iniquity, the more holy His
will, and the more powerful to salvation ; because, by the
interposition of so great a power, that ancient sin, however
great, would necessarily give way to that committed against
Christ, as the less to the greater. Nor is this victory to be
ascribed to the sin or to the sinners, but to Him who
extracted good from their sin, and who bore bravely with
the sinners, and turned to a godly purpose whatever the
cruelty of the impious ventured on against Himself.
22. Thus the Blood which was shed was so powerful for
pardoning that it blotted out that greatest sin of all, by
which it came to pass that it was shed ; and, therefore, left
no doubt whatever about the blotting out of that ancient
and lighter sin. Thus he rejoins: "Is there anyone to
whom it does not seem cruel and unjust, that anyone should
require the blood of an innocent man as the price of some
thing, or that the death of an innocent man should in any
way give him pleasure, not to say that God should hold so
acceptable the death of His Son as by it to be reconciled to
the whole world ? " God the Father did not require the
Blood of His Son, but, nevertheless, He accepted it when
offered ; it was not blood He thirsted for, but salvation, for
salvation was in the blood. He died, in short, for our salva
tion, and not for the mere exhibition of charity, as this man
thinks and writes. For he so concludes the numerous
calumnies and reproaches, which he as impiously as.
LKTTKR CXC. 589
ignorantly belches out against God, as to say that " tin-
whole reason why God appeared in the flesh was for our
education by His word and example, or, as he afterwards
says, for our instruction ; that the whole reason why He
suffered and died was to exhibit or commend to us charilv.
CHAPTER IX.
That CJirist came into the world, not onlv to instruct its,
but also to free its from sin.
23. But what profits it that He should instruct us if He
did not first restore us by His grace ? Or are we not in vain
instructed if the body of sin is not first destroyed in us, that
we should no more serve sin? If all the benefit that we derive
from Christ consists in the exhibition of His virtues, it follows
thai: Adam must be said to harm us only by the exhibition
of sin. But in truth the medicine given was proportioned
to the disease. For as in Adam all die, even so in Christ
shall all be made alive (i Cor. xv. 22). As is the one, so
is the other. If the life which Christ gives is nothing else
but His instruction, the death which Adam gave is in like
manner only his instruction ; so that the one by his example
leads men to sin, the other by His example and His Word
leads them to a holy life and to love Him. But if we rest
in the Christian faith, and not in the heresy of Pelagius, and
confess that by generation and not by example was the sin
of Adam imparted to us, and by sin death, let us also con
fess that it is necessary for righteousness to be restored to
us by Christ, not by instruction, but by regeneration, and
by righteousness life (Rom. v. 18). And if this be so, how
can Peter say that the only purpose and cause of the
Incarnation was that He might enlighten the world by the
light of His wisdom and inflame it with love of Him ?
Where, then, is redemption ? There come from Christ, as
he deigns to confess, merely illumination and enkindling
to love. Whence come redemption and liberation ?
24. Grant that the coming of Christ profits only those who
are able to conform their lives to His, and to repay to Him
5QO LETTER CXC.
the debt of love, what about babes ? What light of wisdom
will he give to those who have barely seen the light of life?
Whence will they gain power to ascend to God who have
not even learned to love their mothers ? Will the coming
of Christ profit them nothing ? Is it of no avail to them
that they have been planted together with Him by baptism
in the likeness of His death, since through the weakness of
their age they are not able to know of, or to love, Christ ?
Our redemption, he says, consists in that supreme love
which is inspired in us by the passion of Christ. There
fore, infants have no redemption because they have not
that supreme love. Perhaps he holds that as they have no
power to love, so neither have they necessity to perish, that
they have no need to be regenerated in Christ because they
have received no damage from their generation from Adam.
If he thinks this, he thinks foolishness with Pelagius.
Whichever of these two opinions he holds, his ill-will to the
sacrament of our salvation is evident ; and in attributing
the whole of our salvation to devotion, and nothing of it to
regeneration, it is evident too that, as far as he can, he
would empty of meaning the dispensation of this deep
mystery ; for he places the glory of our redemption and the
great w r ork of salvation, not in the virtue of the Cross, not
in the blood paid as its price, but in our advances in a holy
life. But God forbid that I should glory save in the Cross
of our Lord Jesus Christ (Gal. vi. 14), in which are our sal
vation, life, and resurrection.
25. And, indeed, I see three chief virtues in this work of
our salvation : the form of humility in w r hich God emptied
Himself; the measure of charity which He stretched out
even to death, and that the death of the Cross ; the mys
tery of redemption, by which He bore that death which He
underwent. The former two of these without the last are as
if you w r ere to paint on the air. A very great and most
necessary example of humility, a great example of charity,
and one worthy of all acceptation, has He set us ; but they
have no foundation, and, therefore, no stability, if redemp
tion be wanting. I wish to follow with all my strength the
lowly Jesus; I wish Him, who loved me and gave Himself
LETTER CXC. 591
for me, to embrace me with the arms of His love, which
suffered in my stead ; but I must also feed on the Paschal
Lamb, for unless I eat His Flesh and drink His Blood I have
no life in me. It is one thing to follow Jesus, another to
hold Him, another to feed on Him. To follow Him is a
life-giving purpose ; to hold and embrace Him a solemn
joy ; to feed on Him a blissful life. For His flesh is meat
indeed, and His blood is drink indeed. The bread of God
is He who cometh down from Heaven and giveth life to the
world (S. John vi. 56, 33). What stability is there for joy,
what constancy of purpose, without life ? Surely no more
than for a picture without a solid basis. Similarly neither
the examples of humility nor the proofs of charity are any
thing without the sacrament of our redemption.
26. These results of the labour of the hands of your son,
my lord and father, you now hold, such as they are,
against a few heads of this new heresy ; in which if you see
nothing besides my zeal, yet I have meanwhile satisfied my
own conscience. For since there was nothing that I could
do against the injury to the faith, which I deplored, I thought
it worth while to warn him, whose arms are the power of
God, for the destruction of contrary imaginations, to des
troy every high thing that exalteth itself against the know
ledge of God, and to bring every thought into captivity to
the obedience of Christ. There are other points in his
other writings, not few nor less evil ; but the limits of my
time and of a letter do not allow me to reply to them.
Moreover, I do not think it necessary, since they are so
manifest, that they may be easily refuted even by ordinary
faith. Still, I have collected some and sent them to you.
LETTER CXCI. (A.D. 1140.)
To THE SAME, IN THE PERSON OE THE ARCHBISHOP
OE RHEIMS.
That the Pope should use his authority to repress the
a r roga nee of Abaclard.
To their most revered Lord and dear Father, INNOCENT,
59 2 LETTER CXCI.
by the grace of God Supreme Pontiff, SAMSON, Archbishop
of Rheims, JoscELix, Bishop of Soissons, GEOFFREY,
Bishop of Chalons, and ALVISUS, Bishop of Arras, send
their willing testimony of the obedience they owe.
i. As your time is occupied with many things we send a
short account of a lengthy matter, and the more especially
as a longer and fuller account is contained in the letters of
the Bishop of Sens. Peter Abaelard is endeavouring to
destroy the virtue of the Christian faith, inasmuch as he
thinks that he is able to comprehend the whole that God is
by his unaided human reason, he is ascending to the skies,
he is descending to the depths. There is nothing which
can escape him, either in the heights above or in the depths
beneath. He is a man great in his own eyes, a disputer of
the faith against the faith, a man who busies himself about
great and wonderful matters which are out of his reach, a
prier into the Majesty of God, a manufacturer of heresies.
He had not long since put forth a treatise on the Trinity,
which was tried by the fire under the command of the
Legate of the Roman Church, 1 because iniquity was found
in it. Cursed was he who rebuilt the ruins of Jericho.
That book has risen from the dead, and with it the heresies
of many which had slept have arisen, and appeared unto
many. Now, his heresy is spreading out its boughs unto
the sea, and its branches even to Rome. It is his boast
that his book has where to lay its head even in the Roman
Curia. Hence his phrensy is strengthened and confirmed.
Therefore, when the Abbot of Clairvaux, armed with zeal
for the faith and for righteousness, was arguing about his
heresies in the presence of the Bishops, he neither confessed
nor denied, but in order to prolong his wickedness, though
he had received neither injury nor wrong, he appealed from
the place and judge which he had himself chosen to the
Apostolic See. Then the Bishops who had assembled for
the purpose of deciding did nothing against his person, in
deference to your authority, but only censured, as a
medicinal necessity, to prevent the disease spreading, the
1 Viz., Conon, who presided at Soissons in A.U. 1121. See notes to Letter 187.
LETTER CXCII. 593
articles from his books which had already been condemned by
the holy Fathers. Because, then, the man is drawing a
multitude after him, and has a whole people as believers in
him, it is necessary for you to meet this contagion with a
swiftly-working remedy, for
When ills through long delays grow strong.
Too late is medicine prepared. 1
We have advanced in this matter as far as we dared. For
the rest it is your part, Blessed Father, to take care that in
your days no spot of heretical depravity stains the fair
beauty of the Church. To thee, O friend of the bridegroom,
has the bride of Christ been entrusted ; it is thine to
present her, a chaste virgin, to one husband, even to Christ.
LETTER CXCII. (A.D. 1140.)
To MAGISTER GUI DO DU CHATEL,- WHO HAD BEEN A
DISCIPLE OF PETER, ON WHICH PETER PRESUMED
TOO MUCH, AND WHO WAS AFTERWARDS POPE
CELESTINE.
He warns him not to cherish the errors of Abaelard in
his love for the man himself.
To his venerable Lord and dear Father, GuiDO, by the
grace of God Cardinal-priest of the holy Roman Church,
BERNARD, called Abbot of Clairvaux, desires that he
decline neither to the right hand nor to the left.
I should do you an injury if I were to suppose that
when you love anyone you are in love also with his errors.
Whoever so loves another knows not yet how to love as he
ought. For such love is earthly, sensual, devilish, injuring
alike the lover and the loved. Others may think of others
as they please ; I cannot yet think of you anything that is
contrary to reason, or to the strict rule of equity. Some
1 Ovid, De Kemedio Amoris, vv. 91, 92.
2 He was created A.D. 1130 Cardinal of S. Laurence, in Damasus, when a
Canon of S. Victor, at Paris. See Letter 144. Being sent as legate into Gaul,
he excommunicated Ralph, Count of Vermandois. See Letters 216 and 218.
594 LETTER CXCIII.
decide first and try afterwards ; I will not decide whether
a drink is sweet or bitter before I have tasted it. Master
Peter puts forth in his books many blasphemous novelties,
both of terms and senses ; he disputes about the faith
against the faith, and attacks the law with the words of
the law. He sees nothing through a glass darkly, but
beholds all things face to face, and busies himself in great
and wonderful matters above him. Better would it be if
(according to the title of his book 1 ) he did know him
self, and did not go beyond his measure, but thought
soberly. I do not accuse him before the Father; there is
one who accuses him, even his book, in which he has such
ill-founded pleasure. When he discourses of the Trinity
he savours of Arius ; w^hen of grace, of Pelagius ; when of
the Person of Christ, of Nestorius. I do not question your
goodness, in asking you earnestly to prefer no one to Christ
in Christ s own cause. But know this, that it is expedient
for you, to whom power has been given by the Lord, it is
expedient for the Church of Christ, it is expedient also for
the man himself, that he be silenced, for his mouth is full
of cursing, and bitterness, and guile.
LETTER CXCIII. (A.D. 1140.)
To CARDINAL Ivo, ON THE SAME SUBJECT.
That it is an unworthy thing that Abaelard should find
partizans even in the Court of Rome.
To his beloved Ivo, by the grace of God Cardinal-priest
of the holy Roman Church, BERNARD, Abbot of Clairvaux,
desires that he love righteousness and hate iniquity.
Master Peter Abaelard, a monk without a rule, a prelate
without a cure, neither keeps his order, nor is kept in order
by it. He is a man inconsistent with himself, within a Herod,
without a John ; a thorough hypocrite, having nothing of a
monk but the name and habit. But this is nothing to me.
1 Viz., " Scito tc ipsum."
LETTER CXCIV. 595
Each one will bear his own burden. There is something
else, which I cannot keep silence about, which belongs to
all who love the name of Christ. He loudly utters iniquity,
he is corrupting the integrity of the faith, and the chastity
of the Church. He crosses over the boundaries which our
fathers have marked out in his discussions and writings
about the faith, about the Sacraments, about the Holy
Trinity; at his pleasure he alters, adds to or diminishes
them. In his books and works he shows himself a manu
facturer of falsehood, and a worshipper of false dogmas ;
proving his heresy, not so much by his error as by his
obstinate adherence to his error. He is a man who goes
beyond his measure, and who, by his skill in words, lessens
or destroys the power of the Cross of Christ. He is
ignorant of nothing in heaven or in earth, except himself.
He was condemned at Soissons, with his work, in the
presence of the Legate of the Roman Church. But as
though that condemnation were not enough for him, he is
again acting so as to be again condemned, and his last
error now is worse than the first. Still he feels secure,
since, as he boasts, he has the Cardinals and clergy of the
Curia as his disciples ; and he assumes that those, whose
judgment and condemnation he ought to fear, are defenders
of his past and present error. If anyone has the Spirit of
God, let him call to mind that verse, Do not I hate them,
O Lord, that hate Thee, and am not I grieved with those
that rise up against Thee (Ps. cxxxix. 21) ? May God,
by you and His other sons, free His Church from lying lips
and from a deceitful tongue !
LETTER CXCIV. (A.D. 1140.)
RESCRIPT OF POPK INNOCENT AGAINST -THE HERESIES
OF PETER ABAELARD.
INNOCENT, Bishop, servant of the servants of God, to his
venerable brothers, HENRY, Archbishop of Sens, SAMSON,
Archbishop of Rheims, and their suffragans, and to his
596 LETTER CXCIV.
beloved brother in Christ, BERNARD, Abbot of Clairvaux s
health and Apostolic benediction.
1. On the testimony of the Apostle, as one Lord, so one
faith is to be known (Eph. iv. 5), on which the inviolate
firmness of the Catholic Church is built, as on an immovable
foundation, beside which no man can lay another. Thence
it was that Blessed Peter, the chief of the Apostles, merited,
through his noble confession of faith, to hear from our Lord
and Saviour the words, Thou art Peter, and on this rock I
iv ill build my Church (S. Matt. xvi. 18), manifestly meaning
by the rock the firmness of his faith and the solidity of
Catholic unity. This is the seamless robe of our Redeemer
for which the soldiers cast lots, but which they could not
divide. Against it in the beginning the heathen raged, and
the nations imagined vain things. The kings of the eart/i
stood up and their rulers were gathered together (Ps. ii. i,
2). But the Apostles, as leaders of the Lord s flock, and
the Apostolic men, their successors, inflamed with the ardour
of charity and zeal for righteousness, did not hesitate to de
fend the faith, and to implant it in the hearts of others by
shedding their own blood. At length the Lord gave com
mands to the winds ; the violence of the persecutors ceased,
and there was a great calm in the Church.
2. But since the enemy of the human race is ever going
about seeking whom he may devour, he now stealthily uses
the deceitful fallacies of heretics in order to undermine the
sincerity of the faith. Against these heretics the pastors
of the churches have boldly risen and condemned their evil
teachings, w r ith their authors. For in the great Council of
Nicaea Arius was condemned as a heretic ; the Synod at
Constantinople condemned Manes as a heretic by a fitting
sentence ; at the Ephesine Synod Nestorius received the
condemnation of his error, which he deserved. The Council
of Chalcedon also justly condemned the Nestorian heresy,
and the Eutychian, with Dioscorus and his accomplices.
Moreover, Marcian, though a layman, yet a Christian
emperor, being inflamed with love of the Catholic faith,
says, among other things, when writing to our predecessor,
LKTTKR CXC1V. 597
Pope John, against those who were endeavouring to profane
the sacred mysteries: " Let none of the clerical order, or
of the military, or of any other rank, endeavour for the
future to discourse publicly about the Christian faith. For,
for anyone to take on himself to explain and again dispute of
matters once determined on and rightly settled, is an injury
to the decision of the most holy Council ; " and he adds, as a
penalty to any who should break this law, that if any clerk
should dare to treat of religion in public, he should be re
moved from the fellowship of clerks as if guilty of sacri
lege.
3. We lament, therefore, that, as we gather irom your
letters, and from the heads of the errors sent us by your
Fraternity, in these last days when perilous times are
approaching, the heresies of the aforenamed, and other per
verse doctrines contrary to the Catholic faith, have begun
to show their heads in the pernicious teaching of Peter
Abaelard. But by one thing we are specially consoled, and
we give thanks to Almighty God for it, viz., that He has
raised up in your parts such worthy successors of the
Fathers, and in the time of our Apostolate has granted to us
such noble pastors, who study to meet the calumnies of the
new heretic, and to present His spotless Bride as a chaste
virgin to one Husband, even Christ. And, therefore, we
who sit in the seat of Blessed Peter (to whom it was said
by the Lord : And when tlioii art converted strengthen thy
brethren] (S. Luke xxii. 32), however unworthily we seem
to occupy it, have, by the common advice of our brethren,
the Bishops and Cardinals, condemned, with their author, all
the articles sent us in the exercise of your discretion, and
all the perverse doctrines of Peter himself, by the authority
i A double mistake seems to have crept in here, one of the inscription, the
other of the name of the existing Pope. This letter or decree of Marcian s is
extant among the acts of the Council of Chalcedon, held in the time of Leo the
Great, A.D. 451, but addressed to the citizens of Constantinople, not to Leo, much
less to John, who succeeded to the Roman See more than 80 years after the
death of Marcian. Perhaps the passage should be restored by reading the name
of the Pope as an Ablative Absolute, in this way, " the most holy Leo, our pre
decessor, being Pope," etc.
59 LETTER CXCV.
of the sacred canons, and we have imposed perpetual
silence on him as a heretic. We decree, also, that all the
followers and supporters of his error be cut off from the
fellowship of the faithful, and be bound with the chain of
excommunication.
Given at the Lateran xvii. a.d. Kal., August.
LETTER CXCV. (A.D. 1140.)
TO THE BISHOP OF CONSTANCE 1 ABOUT ARNOLD OF
BRESCIA.
Bernard advises him to expel Arnold of Brescia from his
Diocese.
i. If the good man of the house had known in what watch
the thief would come he would have watched, and would not
have suffered his house to be broken 2ip (S. Matt. xxiv. 43).
Do you know that a thief has broken into your house by
night, yet not your house, but the Lord s entrusted to your
care ? But there can be no doubt that you know what is
taking place at your door, when news of it has penetrated
even to us who are so far distant. It is no wonder that
you could not foresee the hour, or perceive the night attack
of the thief, but it will be a wonder if you do not recognize
that he has been caught, if you do not hold him fast and
prevent him from carrying off your goods, nay, rather the
most precious spoils won by Christ, souls which He has
stamped with His own image and redeemed with His own
blood. Perhaps you are yet in the dark and wonder who
it is I mean. I speak of Arnold of Brescia, 2 and I wish he
1 It is uncertain whether this Constance is the one in France or the one on the
Rhine. I am inclined to think the latter, because Arnold when expelled from
France is said to have turned his steps to this place. Herman was then Bishop
of this See, the same that met Bernard at Frankfort and took him to Constance
(Miracles of Bernard lib. vi. c. i.).
2 Otto of Frisingen (de Gesti-; Friderid lib. ii. c. 20) thus describes Arnold He
was born at Brescia, a city of Italy, and being ordained reader he became a clerk
in the Church there. He had formerly had Abaelard as his teacher. He was a man
of quick intelligence, more distinguished for a flow of words than for the weight
of his matter, " a man who affected singularity and sought after novelty, one
of those dispositions ever ready to manufacture heresies and to stir up divisions.
LETTKR CXCV. 599
were of as sound doctrine as he is of strict life. And if you
wish to know more, he is a man who comes neither eating
nor drinking, but with the devil alone he is hungering and
thirsting for the blood of souls. He is one of the number
of those whom the watchfulness of the Apostle takes note of
when he says, Having the form of godliness, but denying
the power thereof (2 Tim. iii. 5). And the Lord Himself
says: They shall come to you in sheep s clothing, bid
inwardly they are ravening wolves (S. Matt. vii. 15). Up
to the present time, in whatever place he has lived, he has
left such foul and destructive tracks that he dares not
return to any place wherever he has imprinted his foot
mark. For example, he grievously stirred up and troubled
the land in which he was born, and he was, therefore,
On returning from Gaul to Italy he assumed the religious habit in order to
impose on people the more easily. He mangled and gnawed at everything as
a dog might, he spared no one, he spoke contemptuously of Bishops and clergy,
he persecuted the monks, and reserved his flatteries for the laity. For he was in
the habit of saying that no clergy with private property, no Bishops with estates,
no monks with possessions of their own, could in any way be saved; that all
these things belonged to the King, and that they ought to give up possession
of them and hand them over to the laity. Besides this he seems to have held
erroneous ideas on the Sacrament of the Altar and on Baptism of children."
The same author adds: " In the year 1 138 he was condemned to silence by a
Council held at Rome, was banished from Italy, retired to the town of Thurgau,
and scattered his false doctrines broadcast. When at last he heard of the death
of Innocent he returned to Rome in the early days of Eugenius, and urged on
the people to further sedition, putting before them the examples of the Romans
of old, who in the later days of the Senate had brought the world under their
sway. And, therefore, he exhorted them to rebuild the Capitol, to restore the
Senatorial dignity, and to recreate the equestrian Order. He said that no part
of the government of the city belonged to the Pontiff, that he ought to be content
with ecclesiastical jurisdiction. The evils springing from this pernicious teaching
grew to such a head at last that not only were the houses and splendid palaces
of the Roman nobles or Cardinals pulled down, but violent hands were laid by
the furious populace on the sacred persons of the Cardinals, and some were dis
gracefully injured." The same author says (Chronicles lib. vii. c. 20) that
Jordan, the son of Peter Leonis, was elected into the Patrician Order. " At
last," he says, " falling into the hands of certain people in Tuscany, he was
arrested, was brought before the Prince for examination, and at last was bound
to a stake by the Prefect of the city, and, the pyre having been reduced to ashes
to prevent the foolish populace from paying honour to his body, his remains
were scattered upon the Tiber."
600 LETTER CXCV.
accused before the Pope of grievous schism, and was
banished from his native soil, and also compelled to swear
that he would not return except by the Pope s permission.
For a like reason this notable schismatic has been driven
out from the kingdom of France. When anathematized by
Peter the Apostle he pined himself to Peter Abaelard, and
with him, and for him, he endeavoured to defend vigorously
and stubbornly all his errors, which had been already
exposed and condemned by the Church.
2. And in all these incidents his phrensy \vas not abated,
but his hand was stretched out still. For though he is
a fugitive and wanderer on the earth, he does not cease
to do amongst men of other countries what he is not
allowed to do amongst his own countrymen, and goes
about as a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour.
And I hear that he is now working mischief amongst
you, and is eating up your people as it were bread.
His mouth is full of cursing and bitterness, his feet are
swift to shed blood. Destruction and unhappiness are in
his ways, and the way of peace has he not known. He is
an enemy of the cross of Christ, a sower of discord, a
manufacturer of schisms, a disturber of peace, a divider of
unity ; his teeth are spears and arrows, and his tongue a
sharp sword, his words are smoother than oil, and yet they
are very darts. Thence it is that he is wont to entice to
himself by flattering words and the pretences of virtues
the rich and the powerful, according to the verse :
He sitteth lurking in thievish corners with the rich
that he may slay the innocent (Ps. x. 8). Depend
upon it, when he feels that he has securely gained
their goodwill and affection, you will see the man openly
rise against the clergy ; and, relying on military tyranny,
he will rise against the Bishops themselves, and run a tilt
against all ecclesiastical order. Knowing this, I do not
know what better or more wholesome thing you can do at
such a crisis than, according to the admonition of the
Apostle, to remove the evil man from among you (i Cor. v.
13), though the friend of the bridegroom will see that he is
I.KTTKR CXCVI. 6oi
bound rather than put to flight, lest he be able to travel
about again, and so do more harm. Our Lord the Pope,
when In* was here, gave in writing the same directions,
because of the evils which he heard were being done ; but
there was no one to do the good action. To end, if the
Scripture soundly warns us to take the little foxes which
spoil the vine (Cant. ii. 15), should not a powerful and fierce
wolf much rather be bound fast, lest he break into the
sheep-folds of Christ, and slay and destroy His sheep ?
LETTER CXCVI. (A.I). 1140.)
To Gnno, THK LKGATK, ox THK SAMK SUBJKCT.
Bernard warns him against familiarity with Arnold of
Brescia.
i. Arnold of Brescia is said to be with you, a man whose
discourse is as sweet as honey, whose doctrine is poison ;
whose head is that of a dove, his tail a scorpion s ; whom
Brescia cast forth, Rome was horrified at, France rejected,
Germany abominates, Italy is unwilling to take in. See, I
beseech you, that your authority lend no protection to his
further mischief ; for he has both the art and the wish to do
injurv, and if he gain your favour he will be likely, like a
threefold cord which is not easily broken, to be, I am afraid,
above measure mischievous. And if it is true that you
have the man with you, I suppose one of two things either
that you do not know him, or, which is more likely, that
you are hoping for his repentance. Would it were not a
vain hope ! Who can from this stone raise up a child to
Abraham ? How welcome a gift would it be to our mother
the Church to receive him as a vessel for honour, whom she
had so long borne with as a vessel to dishonour ! It is
lawful to make the attempt, but a wise man will be careful
not to go beyond the number laid down by the Apostle,
when he says, A man tJiat is an heretic after the first
and second admonition reject, knowing that lie tJiat is
such is subverted and sinneth, being condemned of himself
VOL. II. 39
6O2 LETTER CXCVI.
(Tit. iii. 10, n). Otherwise, to be on intimate terms with
him, and to admit him frequently to private conversation,
not to say to your house, is suspiciously like showing him
favour, and is a powerful weapon in the hands of the
enemy. A member of the household, and a private friend
of the Legate of the Apostolic See, will preach with im
punity and persuade whom he will. For who can suspect
any wrong to come from the side of our Lord the Pope ?
But although he manifestly speak perverse things, who will
dare lightly to oppose himself against one who is at your
side ?
2. And do you know what kind of footprints he has left
in every place he has dwelt in ? It is not without cause
that Apostolic energy has forced him to cross the Alps
from Italy which gave him birth, and does not surfer him
to return to his native country. What man is there
amongst the foreigners to whom he was driven who does
not heartily wish that they had sent him back to his home ?
And certainly the fact that his bearing towards all is such
that he incurs the hatred of all is an approbation of the con
demnation under which he labours, so that no one can say
that it was obtained from our Lord the Pope by surprise.
With what excuse, then, can he flout the sentence of the
Supreme Pontiff when, though his tongue disclaims it, his
life loudly proclaims its justice? And so to show him favour
is to go against our Lord the Pope, to oppose our Lord
God. For by whomsoever a righteous sentence may have
been given, it is certain that it proceeds from Him who
says by the mouth of the Prophet, / who speak righteous
ness (Is. Ixiii. i). But I have confidence in your wisdom
and honesty, and that when you have read this letter, and
know the truth, you will not be led away to give your
consent in this matter to anything, save what is becoming
to you and expedient to the Church of God, on behalf of
which you are discharging the office of legate. You have
my heart, and may reckon on my obedience.
LETTER CXCVII. 603
LETTER CXCVII. (A.D. 1141.)
To PKTKR, DEAN OK BESANQON.
Bernard blames his injurious conduct towards the
Abbot of Char lieu.
I hear such an account of the pilgrimage of the Abbot
of Charlieu 1 that I look upon him as already dead. What
ever danger threatens him, whatever suffering he has to
.undergo, is (to my great grief) imputed to you most of all.
I neither expected this, nor deserved it at your hands. I
.thought you one thing, I find you another. Those who
were present at the affair bear their testimony against you
that you have not behaved in it straightforwardly or justly.
And I partly believe it. For the Venerable Abbot of Beau-
vais- is by no means pleased with you. Do not, I implore
you, do not persecute the servants of God, to whom you
read that He said: He that toucheth you to u diet h the apple
.of my eye (Zach. ii. 8). Do not pluck up by the roots
whatever good feeling I formerly had towards you. And 1
write this, not because I love you not, but to take away
whatever may cause me not to love you. For I tell you, as
1 Charlieu, in the Diocese of Besan^on, was a daughter house of Clairvaux,
.and founded A.L>. 1131. Its first Abbot was Guy, mentioned in this and the
following Letter. He being attacked and unjustly oppressed by a monk
named Peter, went on appeal to Innocent with commendatory letters from
Bernard. His enemy, however, was able to get the case sent back to judges in
Gaul, and it was entrusted to John, Bishop of Valence, by the Abbot of Bonne-
val, a Cistercian monastery, who, with the Bishop of Grenoble, was to com
pose the differences. And then it first came to pass that questions which con
cerned their Order were submitted to the Cistercians for decision, because of
.their tried uprightness. And this becoming an established custom, was the
cause of that famous and honourable exception to the law that no one may be a
judge in his own cause, or in any cause in which he is interested, viz., if the
judge is of such a nature that no suspicion is likely to attach to him, e.g., if he
is a Cistercian monk this law may be dispensed with, and such a judge is not
to be refused. (Tiraquellut de Pccnu, temp. aut. remitt. 15, n. 60 and many
others.) Sentence having been given in favour of the Abbot of Charlieu, the
aforesaid Peter again appealed to Innocent, and Bernard wrote to him Letter
199 to request him to confirm the just sentence of the Bishops.
Beauvais is situated in the Diocese of Besan^on, close to the city. For
C harlieu, see Life of S. Bernard, B. iv. n. 40; for Beauvais, n. 7.
604 LETTER CXCVIII.
your friend, that it is not expedient for you nor for your
Church that the Pope should hear how you have acted.
LETTER CXCVIII. (A.D. 1141.)
To POPE INNOCENT.
Bernard requests that lie will avenge the violence and
unjust aggression which Abbot Guy has suffered.
i. In the cause which is brought before you by our dear
brother Guy, Abbot of Charlieu, I have no doubt that
you see plainly enough the injury of the assailant, the
innocence of the sufferer, and the carelessness of the
judge. The poor man, disregarding the toil of the journey,,
the expense and the dangers of the time, has been forced
to appeal to you in person by the violence of the accuser,,
and by the denial of justice. He, a lover of quiet, has.
joined hands with death that he should not live in turmoil.
I beseech you look favourably on his need and poverty, and
listen to his complaint with a father s sympathy, so that his.
toil and sorrow may not be productive of but small results.
Before this I have testified to you by my letter once and
again that the man who is now attacking the Abbot is both
untrue to his monastic vows and a squanderer of the means-
of the monastery. 1 But now I tell you, even weeping, that
he is an enemy of the cross of Christ, a most violent
oppressor of the saints who are- in his neighbourhood, and
a defrauder of the poor. Since he has hardly anything of
his own to waste, he seizes violently, after the fashion of a
tyrant, on his neighbours goods on every side. A monk
in habit, though a false one, a robber in fact, he shows,
himself altogether heedless of the Rules of his Order, he
i This monastery seems to be identical with the Abbey of S. Mary of
Favernay, which Anseric, Archbishop of Besai^on, gave, A.D. 1133, to Stephen
of Mercceur, then Abbot of Chaise-Dieu. Bernard rightly calls this Stephen,
a man full ofreligion, since he is said to have been well-known for his miracles ;.
he died the 2Qth March, A.U. 1 146. See Letter 391.
LETTKR CXCVI1I. 605
despises the laws and canons. He has a brazen forehead,
knows no scruples, is void of godliness, is easily provoked,
ready to dare any crime, and to inflict any injustice. And
I wonder how the Abbot of Chaise-Dieu, a man full of
religion, can either be ignorant of or conceal such vices, and
such glaring vices, in his own monk.
2. But what is this to me ? Let him see to it. To his
own master he standeth or falleth. It is enough for me to
be set free from his hands. I most earnestly implore this
from you, which has been in vain attempted in other ways.
1 looked round and there was none to help. We now have
recourse to the refuge of all, we fly to him by whom we
hope to be set free. You have the power, may you have
the will. And, indeed, it is one of the privileges of the
apostolic see that men should in the last resource look
most for help to your supreme authority and plenary
power. But among the other ornaments of your sole
primacy, this one thing more specially and more gloriously
ennobles and makes your Apostolate famous, viz., the
rescue of the poor man from the hands of those who art-
stronger than he. In my judgment, there is no more
precious jewel in your crown than the zealous care with
which you are wont to strive for the oppressed, and to
prevent the rod of the sinners from coming upon the lot of
the righteous. Doubtless because of that which follows
that the righteous stretch not out their hands to iniquity
(Ps. cxxv. 3) ; or else because of that which is said else
where : When tlie ungodly is exalted the poor man is put
to rebuke (Ps. ix. 23, VuLG.). And what tortures the body
of the one destroys the soul of the other more grievously.
3. There is also a monastery of our Order near this
place, which, in a similar way, is grievously harassed by
the attacks of evil men, and there is no one to redeem it,
or save it. And for this also your son does not shrink
from stirring your fatherly compassion with his tears and
prayers. Who the men are, and the occasion of their
oppression, the Abbot who brings this letter will tell you by
word of mouth, and truly. May Almighty God preserve
606 LETTER CXCIX.
you to us for a long time, to protect us all, who are passing
a life in poverty, and in the habit and purpose of repentance,
in order that we being delivered out of the hand of our
enemies might serve Him without fear (S. Luke i. 74.)
LETTER CXCIX. (A.D. 1141.)
To THE SAME.
Bernard begs that the decision already given in favour
of certain Religious unjustly oppressed maybe ratified.
How long is the ungodly to be exalted and the poor put
to rebuke? How long is so great innocence to be vexed
by such shamelessness, and this while Innocent lives ? It
is our sins doubtless which cause that my lord is so late in
discovering the characters of those who lie to him, so slow
in listening to those who call to him in this cause. For in
other cases I know it is customary to my lord both to come
to an understanding quickly and to show mercy readily.
For the sake of Him who chose you and placed you as a
refuge of the oppressed, put now at length an end to the
malice of the oppressor, and to the sufferings of the
afflicted, because both have been by this time brought into
the light and manifested. In short, at the command and
good pleasure of my lord the cause has been discussed and
ended, and it only remains that the sentence pronounced
by his authority be confirmed. If, then, the man come to
you with his lies shall he be heard against the testimony
of such men as the Bishops of Valence and Grenoble? 1
Again, I implore you, and I fall at the feet of my lord with
the most anxious mind possible, do not suffer a religious
house to be destroyed by this wicked and deceitful man.
For he who has nearly destroyed his own will not spare
ours. And, therefore, I add, with my wonted presumption,
if you believe your son, then send back to his own cell this
man who abuses your loving kindness, and give orders to
the Abbot of Chaise-Dieu that he promote a man full of
1 See Notes to Ep. 197.
LETTER CC. 607
religion to the place in the monastery which this man
occupies uselessly, and that he order the convent according
to the Rule. This is what is worthy of your Apostolate, this
will be well-pleasing to God, this will be an honour to the
Abbot of Chaise-Dieu, and to his monastery. And so, too,
you may set free the soul of the aforesaid man, and the
monastery itself, on which he is a burden.
LETTER CC. (A.D. 1140.)
To MAGISTER ULCER, BISHOP OF ANGERS, CONCERNING
THE GRIEVOUS QUARREL EXISTING BETWEEN HIM
AND THE ABBESS OE FONTEVRAUI/r. 1
i. I am more inclined to shed tears than write a letter.
But since charity is not unable to do either the one or the
other, it is my duty to give the latter and not omit the
former. The one is due to you, the other to me, and to
the many weak ones like me who are made to stumble.
You say, perhaps, that the scandal is not caused by you.
Will you deny that it exists because of you ? I would bear
the rest easily enough if only you were not in the cause.
For I do not dare to say you are in the wrong. It is not
my place to discuss this ; there is One who seeketh and
judgeth. Woe to that man by whom the offence cometh.
Whosoever is the guilty, whether it be he or she, shall
surely bear the punishment. But my discourse is now
with you. Bear a little with my folly. \Vhat I have once
i Petronilla, first Abbess, who was succeeded by Matilda A.D. 1150. The
death of Petronilla is placed in the Necrology on April 24th, and she is said to
have been chosen for Abbess by Robert, founder of the Order of Fontevrault, a
famous nunnery in the Diocese of Poictiers, not far from the borders of Tours
and Angers. A bitter quarrel with the nuns was kept up by Ulger, Bishop
of Angers, whose religion and learning Ordericus speaks of (lib. xii. p. 882),
till the year 1 1 24, when he was substituted for Reynold, who had been
translated to the See of Kheims. Me was a man excelling the other Bishops of
his age in wisdom, character, and holiness (Acts of the Bishops of Le Mans,
Vol. iii. p. 335). Because of this suit he did not at once betake himself to
Rome, to Innocent and Lucius, who had undertaken the defence of the nuns, as
appears from their bulls given in the History of Fontevrault. See Letter 340.
608 LETTER CC.
begun I will say to my Lord. I will satisfy in some degree,
though imperfectly, the zeal and affection w r hich prompt me
to speak. I will not fear the age, I will not be terrified by
the dignity, I will not pause at the great name of Magister
Ulger. For the greater the name the greater the scandal.
Therefore I will go beyond myself, and will be a fool. I
will chide my senior, I will reprove a Bishop. I will
endeavour to teach a teacher, to give counsel to the wise.
The love and the emulation which I formerly conceived for
your sanctity and the glory of your name may well excuse
any kind of presumption. To me it is no light matter, nor
is it to the Church of God, which used everywhere to rejoice
with great joy in this noon-day sun, that the spiritual odour
of this glory which was poured out everywhere should be
interrupted even in a small degree by the envy of the devil.
2. But it is plain enough how utterly you despise your
own glory. I praise you in this, but not if it is to the
injury of God. I praise, too, the constancy with which
vou yield nothing of what you think your rights even to
the highest powers, but I praise you not if you should seem
to do this with more obstinacy than constancy. How much
more to your glory, and certainly to your holiness, would it
be if you were to bear bravely an injustice done to you, and
so keep your good name for the glory of God. And yet I
cannot think how you keep even your conscience in safety
under this scandal. For it is no excuse even if you can
rightly throw the blame on another. Be it that another
has caused the scandal, surely it is in your power to end it.
Will you be guiltless if you are unwilling to end it? or will
the wish to end it be without glory ? If the ill which you
repress is your own it will redound to your righteousness ;
if another s, to your glory. Whoever may be the author of
the scandal, on all grounds it is your duty to end it ; and
I can only say that on one condition only are you free from
blame, viz., if it is out of your power to end it. And, finally,
is it not the work of angels to remove scandals from the
kingdom of God (S. Matt. xiii. 41)? If you say, What is
that to the point ? the verse will answer you, The priest s
LETTER CC. 609
lips keep knowledge, and they ask for the law at his
mouth, for he is a messenger 1 of the Lord (Matt. ii. 7). If,
then, you do not, when you can, end this scandal, you
simply do not fulfil your ministry. And you shall judge
for yourself whether that be no fault. But I do not mean
to say this alone is enough ; you must show it honour by
acting on it.
3. There is another thing also I would add if I were not,
I confess, more timid than I professed myself. But I bring
forward with more safety as a teacher a Bishop who is not
afraid to speak the plain truth to a Bishop. There is
utterly a fault among you, he says, because ye go to law
one with another. Why do ye not rather suffer wrong
(i Cor. vi. 7) ? He has set up the mirror, the Sun of
righteousness has shone forth, truth has shone, the spot
has been made apparent. Of what importance is that
little, trivial possession that it should have power any
longer to cast a shade over such manifest truth, or hinder
so longed-for an ending of strife ? May God inspire you
so as to yield to this counsel, which is not so much mine,
as the counsel of all who are jealous for you with a godly
jealousy, reverend father, who art worthy to attain all
honour.
LETTER CCI.
To BALDWIN,* ABBOT OF THK MONASTERY OK RIETI.
Bernard begs him to apply /u mself strenuously to the
duties of his charge.
i. The letter which you have sent me is full of your
affection ; it stirs mine. And I am grieved that I cannot
reply as I feel. Nor will I waste time in making excuses,
knowing that I speak to one who knows me. You are aware
1 Angclus.
2 Not the same as Cardinal Baldwin, a disciple of Bernard, for whom tuin
to Letters 144 and 245. For he was a Cardinal when the other Baldwin was
ruling the Cistercian Monastery of Rie ti, which was in two divisions, one dedi
cated to S. Matthew, the other to the Holy Shepherd, and over this last Baldwin
was placed.
6lO LETTER CCI.
under what a load I groan, and my groaning is not hid
from you. But do not judge my affection by the short
ness of my letter, for no speech would be able to express it
by its length. And the trouble of my many occupations,
indeed, is able to bring it about that I write in few words,
but not to diminish my love. It may exclude action, or
impede it, but never affection. As a mother loves her son,
so did I love you when you were with me, and delighted
J o
my heart. Let me love you when absent, lest I seem to
have loved you for the pleasure I received from you, and
not for yourself. You were very necessary to me ; and
from this it may most clearly be seen how sincere is my
love. I mean that I should not be this day feeling your
loss if in you I had sought merely my own good. But now
you see that, disregarding my own advantage, I envied not
your gain when I placed you in a position from whence at
some time you may be placed over all the goods of your
Lord.
2. But do you see that you are found a faithful and
prudent servant. See that you give their heavenly bread
to your fellow servant without grudging, and that you pray
without ceasing; and do not make any empty excuse about
your being new to the office, and inexperienced, for this,
perhaps, you feel or put on. For a barren modesty is
unpleasing, and humility beyond the bounds of truth is not
praiseworthy. Attend then to your office. Drive away
false shame by considering the dignity of your office. Act
as a teacher. You are a novice, but you are a debtor ; and
recognize that you became a debtor from the time you
bound yourself. Will inexperience be any excuse to the
creditor for the loss of his gains ? Does the usurer suffer
the first part of the time to go unreckoned ? But I am not,
you will say, sufficient for these things. As though your
devotion were not accepted from what you have, and not
from what you have not ! Prepare to give an answer about
the one talent entrusted to you, and be easy about the rest.
If you have received much, give much, but if little, then
that little. For he that is not faithful in the least will
LETTER CCI. 6 1 I
not be faithful in the greatest. Give all, because all will be
asked for again from you, even to the last farthing, but only
what you have, not what you have not.
3. Remember also to give to your voice the utterance of
power. What is that, do you say ? That your works
harmonize with your words ; nay, rather your words with
your works ; that is to say, that you take care to do first,
and then to teach. It is a most beautiful and most whole
some order of things that you should first bear yourself
what you impose as a burden on another, and so learn from
yourself how you ought to rule others. Otherwise the Wise
Man will address you as the sluggard, to whom it is a labour
to lift up his hand to his mouth (Frov. xxvi. 15). The
Apostle, too, will reprove you : Thou that tcachcst others,
dost thou not teach thyself? (Rom. ii. 21). Moreover, you
will be stamped with the fault of the Pharisees, who bind
heavy burdens, and grievous to be borne, and lay them on
men s shoulders, but they themselves will not more them
-with one of their ji tigers (S. Matt, xxiii. 4). The example
set by actual work is indeed a speech that is living and
efficacious, easily making that which is said persuasive, by
showing that that which is ordered can be done. On these
two kinds of commands, viz., of word and example, under
stand that there hang the whole of your duty, and the safety
of your conscience. Yet if you are wise you will add a third,
viz., devotion to prayer, as a kind of complement of that
threefold repetition in the Gospel concerning feeding the
sheep (S. John xxi. 15-17). In this way you will find that
the Sacrament of this Trinity is in nothing made void by
you if you feed by word, by example, and by the fruit
of holy prayers. And now abideth these three word,
example, prayer ; but the greatest of these is prayer. For
although, as I said, work is the life of the word spoken, yet
prayer gives both to work and word grace* and efficacy.
Alas! I am called away; I must go; I cannot write more.
Let me, however, briefly implore you to take care to free
me as soon as you can from one heavy care, and forget not
to say more plainly what you mean when you complain,
6l2 LETTER CC1I.
among other things, that you have received a wound from
one from whom you did not expect it. For that gives me
much anxiety.
LETTER CCII. (A.D. 1144.)
To THE CLERGY OF THE ARCHDIOCESE OF SENS.
He warns them that the election of a new Prelate should
not be entered upon rashly or precipitately.
Now that you have been deprived of your blessed pastor 1
it is your duty, dearly beloved, to take great care in the
selection of a successor to him. It must not be taken in
hand hastily, confusedly, or inconsiderately, lest perchance
what is done presumptuously against reason and due order
be annulled, and so you begin to enter on the same weary
round as some of your neighbours have done. Take an
example, if you please, from the neighbouring churches, 2
and let their troubles be a warning to you in the present
case. It is a great matter that you are engaged on, this of
supplying a pastor to the renowned Church of Sens. It is
truly a great matter, and not one to be lightly undertaken.
Wait for the advice of the suffragan bishops, wait for the
assenting voice of all the faithful in the diocese, and transact
in common this matter which is of importance to all in
common. Otherwise, dearly beloved, believe me, we shall
to our grief behold your Church under tribulation. To our
grief we shall have to look upon your confusion. Both of
which will readily take place if such action take place as
will have to be recalled. Therefore, let a fast be pro
claimed, let the Bishops be assembled, let the Religious be
invited to be present, so that the election of so exalted a
priest may be duly celebrated, and may not be deprived of
its proper solemnity, which God forbid. We believe that
so the Holy Spirit will assist your prayers ; that honour
will be added to you if you honour your ministry, provided
1 Henry, succeeded A.D. 1144 by Hugh, Abbot of Pontigny.
2 Viz , Orleans (Ep. 156), Chalons (Ep. 224), Langres (Ep. 164, ft se(/.)
LETTER CCII I. 613
you diligently seek, with prayer and common counsel, alike
what is most for the glory of God, and the good of tin-
people.
LETTER CCIII. (Circa A.D. 1140.)
TO THE BISHOP AM) CLERGY OF TROVES.
Bernard presses them to forbid marriage and a
militarv career to a clerk named Anselle.
We read : If any of you do err from the truth, and one
convert him, let him know that he which converteth the
sinner from the error of liis ways shall save a soul from
death and shall hide a multitude of sins (S. James v.
19, 20). Our friend Anselle is erring, is erring. Who
doubts it ? If we dismiss him thus, he will not err alone.
How many will the illustrious youth not draw after him
by his example ? And we judge to be involved in the same
error not only those who follow him, but also all who may
be able to call him back and do not. I am clean from his
blood. I have both told him before by letter, and I now tell
you that he is presumptuously undertaking what is for
bidden. It is not the part of a clerk to fight in worldly
warfare, nor of a subdeacon to marry. Tell the sinner his
duty, lest he die in his sins, and He who redeemed him
with His own precious blood require his blood at your
hands. Lo He cries from Heaven : The Virgin of Israel is
fallen ; there is none to raise her up (Amos v. 2). How
long is gold to lie in the mire? Remove this pearl,
remove, take up this most splendid and precious jewel
from the dunghill. Take it up before it be trodden under
foot by swine, that is by unclean spirits, and be no more a
vessel for honour but for dishonour.
LETTER CCIV.
LETTER CCIV. (Circa A.D. 1140).
To THE ABBOT OF S. AuBiN. 1
Bernard declares Jiis affection for him and his wish to
see him.
Though you are unknown to me by face, yet you are not
by renown ; and it is very precious to me to know you
thus. For such an image of you has stolen into my heart
through this report, that though I am occupied with many
things, yet, my dear brother, that pleasing thought of you
often calls me from them all, so that I dwell on it willingly
and with pleasure. But the more I cherish the thought of
you, the more eagerly do I long to see you. But when will
that be ? or will it ever be ? Certainly if not before, at all
events we shall meet in the city of our God, if here we
have no abiding city, but seek one above. There, there
shall I see you, and my heart shall rejoice. In the mean
while I shall be delighted and pleased none the less with
what I hear from you, hoping and expecting to see you
face to face in the day of the Lord, that my joy may be full.
Add, I pray you, to those good things which are always
coming to me from you and about you, my dear and longed-
for brother, your own prayers and those of your brethren
for me.
LETTER CCV. (Circa A.D. 1140.)
To THE BISHOP OF ROCHESTER. -
Bernard complains of the severity of his letter, which he
lias done nothing to deserve,
You write severely to one who does not deserve it.
1 Others read 5. Allans, a famous monastery in England, founded by King
Offa. But our reading of S. Aubins is to be preferred; this was a monastery in
Anjou, from which William went, and " was received by the Abbot Bernard,
-and displayed such grace in his virtues that his sanctity seemed marvellous even
t;> the perfect.
2 Ascelin or Anselm was then presiding over this English See. He suc
ceeded John, A.D. j 137, and was Bishop of it for 10 years. [Mabillon s Note.]
But according to the Diocesan Registers, the Diocese was administered by John
of Seez for five years from A.D. 1 137, and Ascelin was consecrated in A.D. 1142.
This Letter should therefore be dated not before 1 142. See note on next page. [E.]
LKTTKR CCV. 615
What have I done wrong? If I advised Master Robert
Pullen } to spend some time at Paris, because of the sound
learning which is known to be gained there, it was because
1 thought it necessary for him, and I still think so. If I
asked your Highness to permit it, I would again make the
same request, if I were not aware that you had rejected my
former petition. If I said that the man is supported by
the kindness of his friends, whose influence at the Curia is
by no means small, I said it because I had fears for you,
and I still have. For in that after appeal was made, you, as
I hear, stretched out your hand to the property of the
appellant ; I neither praised you in this, nor do I now. But
certainly I never advised him, nor do I now, to go against
your wish in any way. For the rest I am your servant,
1 An Englishman by birth. He first studied letters at Paris, and then,
returning to his native land, restored the school at Oxford, which had well nigh
perished. He was then summoned to Home, because of his intellectual gifts and
great learning, by Innocent II., who created him a Cardinal under the title of S.
Eusebius. He was the first Cardinal of his nation, unless a certain Ulrinus is earlier
than he. But in what year? In 1 134, if we believe Onuphrius and Ciaconius.
One thing is very evident, and that is, that he had not obtained this dignity
when this Letter was written, which from its place in the list of S. Bernard s
Letters seems to have been penned about A.D. 1 140. In the next place Go.lwin
says that this Letter was sent to Anselm, or Ascelin, who, in the year 1 137, was
made Bishop of Rochester. Again, at the end of his Letter Bernard thanks the
Bishop of Rochester for having shown care for " his children, the sons that he
had sent into Ireland." But that no monks of the Cistercian Order lived in
Ireland before the year 1139, when S. Malachy first went to Clairvaux, is evident
from what S. Bernard says in his life of him (cxvi.), where he writes that some
of his companions had been sent by the holy Bishop to Clairvaux to learn the
Cistercian rule, who took it back with them to Ireland in the year 1 141, when
the monastery of Mellifont was founded, which was the first Cistercian founda
tion in that province, except that of S. Mary at Dublin, which some writers say
submitted itself to the Cistercian rule about the year i 139. And, theretore, the
opinion of the Anglo-Benedictine writer is preferable (it is referred to in the
preface to the works of Pullen), who holds that Robert Pullen was invited to
Rome by Innocent, was again proclaimed Cardinal by his successor, Lucius,
afterwards obtained the dignity of Chancellor, and died uirder Eugenius III.
They call him the oldest of Theologians; his remains, which were indexed bv
Pitsaeus, prove his great learning. They would have altogether perished had
they not been rescued by Hugh Mathoud, head of the Benedictine house of S.
Columba, at Sens, who published eight books of his Sentences, illustrated by
learned notes. If more about him is wanted it will be found in the notes to
Letter 334.
616 LETTER CCVI.
ready always to hold and honour your crown 1 in due and
worthy veneration. I venture again on the strength of this
consciousness to pray and advise you that Master Robert
with your full goodwill may be allowed to spend some time
at Paris. May the Lord repay you in eternal life the good
you have done to my offspring, I mean my sons whom I
have sent into Ireland.
LETTER CCVI.
TO THE QUEEN OF JERUSALEM. 2
Bernard recommends to her one of his relatives ; and
exhorts the Queen so to live that she may reign for ever.
Men tell me that I have some influence with you, and
many who are about to set out for Jerusalem ask for a
recommendation from me to your Excellency. Amongst
whom is this young relation of mine, a youth, they say,
bold in arms, and of polished manners. And I rejoice that
at his age he has chosen to fight for God rather than for the
world. And so do according to your custom, and let it be
well with him for my sake, as it has always been with all
my other relations who have been able by my means to
make themselves known to you. As to the rest, see that
the pleasure of the flesh and worldly glory do not block up
your road to the heavenly kingdom. For what advantage
is it to reign for a few days over the earth and to lose the
eternal kingdom in the Heavens ? But I trust in the Lord
that you will do better ; and if the testimony is true which
my dear uncle Andrew bears concerning you, and I place
great reliance on him, you will, by the mercy of God, reign
both here and in eternity. Bestow care on pilgrims, the
needy, and prisoners, for with such sacrifices God is well
pleased. Write to me more often ; for it will not hurt vou,
and will help me if I know more fully and more certainly
of your state 3 and of your good dispositions.
1 S. Bernard not unfrequently addresses Bishops, wore vetertnn, as having" a
crown, i.e., royal honour. See Ep. 221.
- This was Melisendis, to whom Letters 289, 354, 355 were written.
3 Esse vestrum : i.e., statum.
LKTTER CCVII. 617
LETTER CCVII. (A.D. 1139.)
To ROGKR, KING OF SICILY.
Bernard begs Jiini to be kind and liberal towards poor
Religious.
Far and wide the renown of your magnificence has
spread over the earth. For what lands are there to which
the glory of your name has not reached P 1 But listen to the
advice of me who loves you. Endeavour as much as in
you lies to refer this same glory to Him from whom it
comes, if you do not wish to destroy it, or to be destroyed
by it. This certainly will happen if you open the eye of
discretion upon those whom the well-known report of your
magnificence calls to you from afar, and if you stretch out
your hand not so much to the greedy as to the poor. Truly,
Blessed is lie tJiat considercth not the greedy, but the poor
and needy (Ps. xli. i). The poor, I repeat, who asks
unwillingly, receives modestly, and when he receives
glorifies his Father which is in Heaven. Since, then,
His own glory will be so faithfully given to God from
the mouth of the needy because of your gift, that fount
of glory must flow for you with more fruitful stream,
i Bernard now addresses Roger in very different terms from what he had
used before ; doubtless because, as he was not in the habit of sparing sinners,
so he was gentle and kind to the repentant ; and when the character had been
changed he knew how to change his style, as he says at the end of Letter 224.
It seems, then, that Roger had repented himself of having been a foe to the
Church, a disturber of peace, a fomenter of schism, a persecutor of Pope
Innocent, and a rival of the Emperor. His ferocity had been so great that he
spared neither sacred things nor persons, nor his dead enemies (Otto of
Frisingen lib. vii. c. 23 ; Baronius Vol. xii., year 1136). Thence Bernard had
spoken of him as, "the Sicilian tyrant in Letters 130 and 136; as "an
intruder upon the royal crown, the Sicilian usurper," in Letter 139; as "the
Duke of Apulia whom Pope Anacletus had drawn to his side by the ridiculous
bribe of an usurper s crown," in Letter 127. Peter, Abbot of Cluny, speaks of
him in high terms (lib. iv. ep. 37). At all events, when he had submitted to
Pope Innocent, although he held him captive, he obtained a confirmation of his
royal crown (Baronius, Annals, year 1139), and invited to his realms religious,
both Cluniacs and Cistercians. He had, too, a great desire to see Bernard, as
appears from the next Letter.
VOL. II. 40
618 LETTER CCVIII.
for He loves those who love Hun, and glorifies those who
glorify Him ; just as he wJw sows blessings shall reap
blessings (2 Cor. ix. 6). For this reason I beseech you
cast your eyes on the bearer of this letter, for most cer
tainly it is not greed that has drawn him to your presence,
but necessity that has forced him to come. Necessity, I
say, not his own, but of his brethren, viz., the many
faithful servants of God by whom he has been sent. Hear
patiently what they have to be patient under; hear and
suffer with them ; for if you suffer with them you shall
reign with them. To reign with such is not to be scorned,
even by a king. For the kingdom of heaven is theirs who
have despised the life of the world. Make to yourself
friends of the mammon of unrighteousness , that when you
fail out of your earthly kingdom they may receive you into
their heavenly kingdom (S. Luke xvi. 9).
LETTER CCVIII. (A.D. 1139.)
To THE SAME.
The King had desired to see him ; he sends some of his
brethren in his place.
If you ask for me, here am I, and my children which God
has given to me. For my humility is said to have found
favour with the King s majesty, so that he seeks to see me.
And who am I that I should go against the good pleasure
of the King ? I hasten and say to him who sought me :
Lo! here I am, not in the weak bodily presence which
Herod mocked in the Lord (S. Luke xxiii. ii), but in my
children. For who shall separate me from them ? I will
follow them wherever they go ; even if they dwell in the
uttermost parts of the sea, they shall not be without me.
You have, O King, the light of my eyes, you have my heart
and my soul. What if my meanest part is absent ? I mean
my worthless body, that vile possession, which necessity
retains, though the will would gladly give it up. It is not
LETTER CCIX. 619
able to follow the will, since it is weak, and almost the only
thing awaiting it is the tomb. But why need this be a
care ? My soul shall dwell among the good, when my
seed shall inherit the earth. My seed, my good seed shall
spring up, that is if it falls into good soil. My soul shall
rejoice and delight herself in fatness, because, I trust,
there shall be given to her of the fruit of her hands. This
hope of mine is laid up in my heart, so that I can patiently
bear to be separated from them in body. Do not wonder,
O King. I would rather have been absent from the body,
than to send them away, if the cause had not been God s
alone. Receive them as strangers and pilgrims, as fellow
citizens with the saints and of the household of God ; nay,
not citizens, they are kings. For theirs is the kingdom of
heaven by the right and merit of poverty. It is not fitting
that they should have been summoned from afar to no
purpose, and wander as exiles from their home in a useless
pilgrimage. Do you suppose they will be able to sing the
Lord s song in a strange land ? But perhaps I am wrong
in calling it a strange land, for it has opened its heart of
its own accord to receive the good seed, and has taken in
the precious deposit to be piously fostered in its kindly
bosom. It has fallen, I see, the good seed has fallen into
a good, nay, an excellent, soil ; I hope in the Lord that it
will take root, spring up, multiply, and bring forth fruit
with patience (S. Luke viii. 15). Then will I share this
with the King, and eac/i one sJiall receive according to his
labour (i Cor. iii. 8).
LETTER CCIX.
To THE SAME.
Bernard praises the King s munificence in receiving and
maintaining the Religious sent to him.
You have what you asked for, you have done what you
promised. Those whom, according to your w r ord, we
selected and sent abroad to you have been received with
620 LETTER CCX.
princely generosity. You have met them with bread, you
have brought them into a pleasant place, you have placed
them on a lofty spot, that they may eat the fruits of the
fields, suck honey out of the rock, and oil from the hard
stone ; may have butter and milk from the herd, and from
. the sheep, and honey with the flour of wheat, and may
drink the choicest blood of the grape. These, indeed, are
earthly blessings, but they purchase heavenly. Such is the
way to heaven ; with such sacrifices God is well pleased.
For the kingdom of heaven is theirs who in the land
of the living will have power to render to the earthly
king for these earthly benefits life and everlasting glory,
I have sent you Master Bruno, formerly for a long time the
companion of my solitude, but now the father of many
souls who rejoice in Christ indeed, but are poor in this
world s goods. Let him, too, experience the generous
hand of the King that the number of those maybe increased
who may receive him into everlasting habitations. What
you do for him, you do for me ; for what he lacks has to be
supplied by me. But, as my purse is not very full, I have
directed Christ s poor monk to look to yours, which, as
everyone knows, is somewhat more full than mine.
LETTER CCX. (Circa A.D. 1 139.)
To POPE INNOCENT.
He recommends to the Pontiff the Archbishop of Rheims.
I recommend the Lord Bishop of Rheims 1 to your
Holiness, not merely as one of many, but as one above
the rest. And I do so the more confidently as I am con
fident of his faithful devotion to you, his sincere love, his
submissive and obedient disposition. Let him be honoured,
since he is a vessel made to honour. Let him be made to
feel, as much as in you lies, that he does not honour his
ministry in vain, that it is not in vain that he excels in those
virtues by which God is honoured and the Church adorned,
which, in short, become the priest of the Lord.
1 Samson.
LETTER CCXI. 621
LETTER CCXI. (Circa A.D. 1139.)
To THE SAME.
He recommends the cause of the Archbishop of Canterbury
and of the Bishop of London.
My Lord of Canterbury, 1 a good man, and one who has
the testimony of good men, is unjustly dragged into a dis
pute, and violently held back from acting. He was pre
paring to start (for in your presence the dispute \vas to
be settled), when he was stopped by a hurricane and
tempest of wars. Please excuse him, for the necessity of
excusing himself is a trouble to him, not only because he
is sure of getting justice at your hands, but also because he
greatly desired to see your face. Your son adds also this,
that if the venerable priest 2 should make any other request
of you, please grant it the more quickly, as he who makes
it is the more worthy. As I have begun, I venture to say
one thing more to my lord. Your old friend, faithful
servant, and devoted son, Robert, Bishop of London,
appeals to you, because he who preceded him in the See 3 to
which God has called him has appropriated the goods and
lands of his Church, and refuses to make restitution. 4 And
how injurious this is, and how it is to be corrected it ill
would become my humility to dictate to so great wisdom.
LETTER CCXII. (A.D. 1139.)
To THE SAME.
He pleads pathetically with the Pontiff the cause of the
Bishop of Salamanca, praising his remarkable humility.
1 Theobald, formerly Abbot of Bee.
2 Bernard everywhere, as a loving student of antiquity, retains old names;
as here, Sacerdos, by which name those even of the first Order were wont to be
called in olden times (above, Letters 61 and 202).
3 This was apparently Anselm, Abbot of Bury, " elected A.D. 1 134, but after
wards set aside." Robert s accession to the See was not until A.D. 1141 : and
according to English accounts, it was in 1147 that Archbishop Theobald, being
oppressed by Henry of Blois, the Papal Legate, was driven into exile. So that
the date of this Letter must be somewhat later than stated in the text. [E.]
4 I.e., as securities.
622 LETTER CCXII.
That illustrious man who was formerly Bishop of Sala
manca, when returning from Rome, did not think it too
much trouble to turn aside to your son, nor thought it
beneath him to ask help from one so feeble as I am. 1 And
when I had heard him I called to mind the words of the
prophet : Every mountain and hill shall be made low
before God, and the crooked places shall be made straight,
and the rough places plain (Is. xl. 4). Even so you know
how to make sport of and repress the lofty, to abase the
proud, and to reduce to their measure those who go beyond
their rule. But when the man had told me in detail the
history of his troubles, I commended the judge, I approved
the verdict, but, I confess to you, I also felt compassion for
the man, though condemned. And so, as it was, indeed,
through the whole of that tearful account, he finished
as one who would say with the prophet : Having been
exalted, I was humbled and put to confusion (Ps. IxxxviL
1 6, VULG.) ; and, Thou hast raised me up only to cast me
down (Ps. cii. 10). And when I thought of your justice,
and the nobility of mind which I know you to have, I
began to think at the same time of the riches of your
mercy, which in many cases I have made trial of, and I
said, Who knows whether the Lord will turn and pardon,
and leave a blessing behind Him ? Certainly, I repeat, he
has been taught, in all things, and in all ways, both to be
jealous, and to pardon, both to tame the haughty, and by
no means to spare the conquered ; except that, following
his Master, he is also accustomed to let mercy triumph
over justice. And I, who am dust and ashes, consented to
write with that wonted presumption of mine to my lord.
And I found ground for hope, confidence for my request,
1 This was the Peter who, when the Church of Salamanca was long labour
ing under a threefold schism, was summoned to Rome by Innocent while
boasting himself in his rights of possession, and was degraded with the other
litigants. Then Peter betook himself to Cluny, and then to Bernard, and would,
perhaps, have obtained re-instatement in his dignity had not the Bishops of
Toledo, Zamora, and Segovia, sent to Rome by King Alphonso. intervened, and
secured the election of Berengarius, King Alphonso s Chancellor. (Manriquez,
on the year 1139.)
LETTER CCXIII. 623
reason for my doing him this kindness, in the fact that the
man is not, as is usual, departing in indignation, filled with
anger, and going back to his native land to cause scandals,
to excite seditions ; but he has given place to wrath, and
has put on the spirit of meekness; he has turned aside to
your monks of Cluny, and prostrated himself before the
knees of the humble, and has joined them in their prayers
as arms that are powerful from God. He has resolved to
contend with you with these weapons, and he will endeavour
to undermine with these engines of devotion, as he boasts,
the wall of your severity which now stands in his way. He
trusts also that you will regard the prayer of the humble,
and not despise their petition, and that piety will overcome
him before whom the powers of the world tremble. I, too,
with confidence stretch out my hands with them, bend my
knees, supplicate for the suppliant, boldly declare that his
humility ought to help the unhappy man, since his pride
has so injured him, and say that it is unbecoming for virtue
to be surpassed by vice in receiving recompense.
LETTER CCXIII. (A.D. 1139.)
To THE SAME.
He expostulates that the reconciliation of Peter of
Pisa, made by him with the Pope s own authority, has
been held invalid.
Who will do me justice against you ? If I had a judge
before whom I could take you I would quickly show you
what you deserve I speak as one in travail. There is,
indeed, the tribunal of Christ ; but far be it from me to
summon you there, for if it were necessary for you and
possible to me, I would far rather stand there and answer
for you with all my strength. And so I appeal to him to
whom, for the present, power has been given to judge all
things, i.e., to you yourself. I summon you before yourself,
to judge between us. In what, I ask, has your son deserved
so ill from his father, that it has seemed good to you to
brand and stamp him with the mark and the name of
624 LETTER CCXIV.
traitor? Did you not think it good to constitute me your
Vicar in the matter of reconciling Peter of Pisa, if per
chance God should vouchsafe to recall him by my means
from the mire of schism ? If you deny it I will prove it by
the many witnesses that were in your Curia at the time.
Was he not after this, according to the instructions of my
lord, restored to his rank and honour ? Who is it, then,
who by his advice, or rather his craft, has stealthily undone
what your indulgence granted, and made void the words
which proceeded out of your lips ? And I say this, not to
blame your apostolic severity, and your zeal kindled from
the fire of God against schismatics, which with a mighty
wind breaks the ships of Tarshish, and like Phinehas slays
the fornicators, according to the verse, Do not I hate them,
O Lord, which hate Thee, and am not I grieved with them
that rise up against Thee (Ps. cxxxix. 21) ? But where
the guilt is not equal, the punishment clearly should not be
equal ; nor ought he who has forsaken his sin to be under
the same sentence as he whose sin has forsaken him. For
the sake of Him w r ho to spare sinners spared not Himself,
take away my reproach ; and, by re-establishing what you
first established, consult the credit of your first sound and
perfect opinion. I wrote to you before on this matter ; but
as I have received no reply, I presume that the letter did
not reach you.
LETTER CCXIV. (Circa A.D. 1140.)
To THE SAME.
He recommends Nicholas, Bishop of Cambray, and Abbot
Gottschalk.
If any regard for me, any recollection, however slight, of
me, still remains in the heart of my lord, and if his child
finds any small portion of the grace he once found in his
sight, let him now experience it on behalf of that illustrious
LETTER CCXV. 625
and humble man, Nicholas, 1 Bishop of Cambray. I confess
that I am under obligation to him, and that I am in debt
for all that I can do, not only because he honours me and
mine, whenever he can, but also for his uprightness, meek
ness, and justice, virtues which can recommend him also to
you. And, if I mistake not, those who trouble him are
false men, and truth is not in their mouth. In short, you
are sure to approve of him, and there is no need for me to
multiply words about him. He has, too, with him a religious
and holy man, Abbot Gottschalk, 2 on behalf of whom, in
like manner, I earnestly ask a hearing for his requests, if
my intervention can lend any power to his merits. For I
believe that he will make no petition which is unworthy of
being granted.
LETTER CCXV. (Circa A.D. 1140.)
To THE SAME.
He intercedes on behalf of the Bishop of Auxerre.
I write to you very often, I, a worthless little worm ; and
I am impelled to this boldness by the entreaties of my
friends. I confess I am bold, but not false. 3 Let not my
lord suspect that falsehood will be found in the words of
his child in any letter he sends him. I wish to comply with
the wishes of my friends, but not to my death. For I do not
forget what I have read : A mouth that bclieth slayeth the
soul (Wisd. i. n). I deny, then, falsehood, I confess im
portunity ; this will iind pardon, the rest I fear not. The
Bishop of Auxerre 4 is a special friend of mine. Who does
not know him ? He is able to communicate anxiety to his
1 In most copies neither the name, nor even the initial, is found. One copy
only has the name in the margin. Nicholas presided over the Church of
Cambray from A.U. 1 140 to A.D. 1 167.
2 These words " of S. Martin s Mount " are wanting in all the manuscripts,
and so is Gottschalk in some, others have the initial G. He was Abbot of
Mount S. Martin at Arras, of the Order of Praemonstratensians, and is praised
in Letter 253, n. 4; he was afterwards Bishop of Arras (see Letter 284).
3 Audax nnn mendai.
* Hugh.
626 LETTER CCXVI.
friend, but not falsehood. We bring before you a trust
worthy defence of his dean, and we ask for absolution for
him. I speak with my wonted presumption when I say
that we are sons of the same father, viz., of yourself. I
hope that my father will not reject his sons, but will do the
will of them that fear him, and will hear their cry, and
will make them joyful (Ps. cxlv. 19).
LETTER CCXVI. (A.D. 1142.)
To THE SAME.
He complains that Count Ralph, who had repudiated his
wife and taken another, finds supporters in the Curia.
It is written : Whom God hath joined together let not
man put asunder (S. Matt. xix. 6). Audacious men have
arisen, and have not shrunk from disjoining those whom
God has joined together. 1 Nor is that all ; they have gone
farther, and joined together persons whom it is forbidden
to unite, thus adding sin to sin. The sacred rites of the
Church are violated, and alas ! the robe of Christ is rent,
and that, to crown the sorrow, by the hands of those who
ought to have kept it whole. Thy friends and thy neigh
bours, O God, have come near and stood against Thee
(Ps. xxxvii. 12, VULG.). For they who are transgressing Thy
command are not foreigners, not strangers to Thy sanctuary,
but they hold the place of those to whom was said : If
ye love me keep My commandments (S. John xiv. 15).
Count Ralph and his wife had been joined together by
God through the ministers of the Church, and by the
i The Bishops named here, who approved of the divorce of Ralph, Count of
Vermandois, were Simon of Tournay his brother, Bartholomew of Laon, and
Peter of Senlis. Count Ralph had conceived a desire to be married to the
sister of Eleanor, Queen of the French, named Petronilla, and he consequently,
with the approbation of the three Bishops named above, repudiated his lawful
wife, a niece of Theobald, Count of Champagne, under the plea of consan
guinity. A complaint about the matter came to the ears of the Pope through-
Count Theobald, and he pronounced his anathema against the Count, and
suspended the three Bishops for some time from their office.
LETTER CCXVII. 627
Church through God who had given such power unto men.
Why did the Court disjoin those whom God had joined?
And in so doing provision w r as made as was fitting for one
thing only, viz., that the works of darkness should be
done in darkness. For he who does wrong hates the
light, and does not come into the light, that his works may
be reproved by the light. What has Count Theobald
deserved, what wrong has he done ? If to love righteous
ness and hate iniquity be a sin, he cannot be excused. If
it be a sin to render to the King the things which are the
King s, and to God the things which are God s, he cannot
be excused. If at your command he received the Arch
bishop of Bourges, this is his first and greatest sin. 1 Lo !
this is the crime which is laid at his door. They who
render evil for good calumniate him because he follows the
thing that good is. Many are calling to you from the
depths of their hearts to visit with fitting punishment the
wrong done to your son, and the oppression the Church is
subjected to, and to restrain the workers of this wickedness
with their leader, with whatever Apostolic force you wish
and are able to put forth, that so their wickedness may
descend upon their own head.
LETTER CCXVII. (A.D. 1142.)
To THE SAME.
He complains that Count Theobald is suffering for the
cause of justice, and for his fidelity to the Apostolic See.
Tribulation and anguish have found us out. The earth
trembles and quakes at the deaths of men, at the banish-
1 This was the cause of the hostility [of the King of France] to Theobald,
about which we find Hermann saying: "The Pope consecrated as Archbishop
of Bourges a certain clerk named Peter, a relation of hPs Chancellor ; and
because the King refused to receive him he was excommunicated." This was
in the year 1144, after the death of Archbishop Alberic. You will gather more
from the notes to Letter 219, where you will find how badly Theobald was
treated by the King for giving an asylum to Peter Cf. Letter 219 and Life of
S. Bernard \\\>. iv. n. 12.
628 LETTER CCXVII.
ment of the poor, at the arrest and imprisonment of the
rich. Even religion itself has come into shame and
contempt. Only to make mention of peace is counted a
disgrace amongst us. Nowhere are faith and innocence
safe. Count Theobald, a lover of innocence, and a seeker
after holiness, has been almost delivered over to the will of
his enemies. He was struck at that he might fall, but the
Lord sustained him ; and it is a consolation to him that
justice and obedience to you are at stake, because of the
Apostle s words: If ye suffer for righteousness sake, happy
are ye (i S. Peter iii. 14). And again it is written in the
Gospel : Blessed are they who endure persecution for
righteousness (S. Matt. v. 10). Woe to us ! we have been
able to foresee, but not to take precautions against these
evils. What more can I say? In order that the land might
not be wholly laid desolate, and the whole kingdom,
divided against itself, fall, that most devoted son of yours,
and defender of the Church s liberty, has been compelled
to promise under an oath that he would do what he could
to induce you to remove the sentence of excommunication
pronounced against the land and person of the adulterous
tyrant, 1 who has been the head and originator of all these
evils and sorrows, by your legate Ivo of good memory, as
also against the adulteress herself, which the aforesaid
prince did at the entreaty and advice of some faithful and
wise men. For they said that without any injury to the
Church it would be easy to obtain from you a renewal
of the decree, and an irrevocable confirmation of the same
sentence which had been justly pronounced; so would
artifice be eluded by artifice and peace obtained ; and he
who boasts himself in wickedness and is powerful in
iniquity would gain no advantage. I have many things to
say to you, but there is no need to write about everything,
when there is one present who knows all, and can acquaint
you with them more plainly and completely by word of
mouth.
1 Ralph.
LETTER CCXVIII. 629
LETTER CCXVIII. (A.I). 1143.)
His LAST LETTER TO INNOCENT II.; IN SELF DEFENCE.
Bernard having remarked that he had lost the favour
of Pope Innocent, on account of the will of Cardinal Ivo,
humbly justifies himself.
To his lord and most reverend Father INNOCENT, BER
NARD, a thing of nought, wishes health.
1. I used to think at one time that I was of some account,
though of small ; but now I feel I have simply been re
duced to nothing while I knew it not. For I would never
have said that I was nothing at all while the eyes of my
lord were over his child, and his ears open to my prayers,
whilst all that I wrote he received with open hands, read
with smiling face, and while he answered most graciously
and fully all my demands. But now I do not say that I am
of small account, I am of none ; because since yesterday
and the day before his face has been turned away from me.
Why is this? what wrong have I done? Much, I admit, if
the money of Cardinal Ivo, of good memory, was distributed
according to my will, and not according to his directions,
for I am told that this has been brought before the notice
of my lord. But I trust that by this time you know the
truth of this matter, and the truth shall make me free. I
am not so dull as not to know that whatever he left no
directions about becomes the property of the Church.
2. But now hear the simple truth. If falsehood is found
in my mouth, my own mouth shall condemn me. When
the man put off his mortal frame I was absent, nay, at a
long distance. But I heard from those who were present
that he made his will, and had what he wanted written
down; and of his property he divided what he would to
whom he would, and whatever was over he entrusted to
the two Abbots who were assisting him, ancl to me who
was absent, with a view to its distribution ; because the
poorer places of the saints were known to us. Then the
Abbots returned home, and not finding me (for I was kept
at that time in accordance with your orders by the negotia-
630 LETTER CCXVIII.
tions for peace), they nevertheless divided the money as
seemed good to them, I not only not conniving, but not
even knowing what they had done. Let now, if you please,
your indignation give place to this manifest truth, and
henceforward look upon me not frowningly or in displeasure ;
but let your wonted serenity return to your kind and
gracious countenance, and let your face once more assume
its brightness and joy.
3. As to your complaint that you have found much in
my letters to displease you, I shall not have to fear it any
longer, ior it is a fault which I will soon cure. I know it,
I know it, I have presumed more than I ought to have
done ; not thinking sufficiently who I was and to whom I
was presuming to scribble ; but you will not deny that
your kindness had armed me with that boldness. And
then the love of my friends urged me to it ; for I wrote
very little on my own account, if I recollect aright. But
enough of this. I will for the future put a rein on my zeal,
be more wise, and put my finger to my lips. For it will
be more tolerable to offend some of my friends than to
weary with many prayers the Lord s anointed. And at
this time too I have not ventured to write to you about the
clangers overhanging the Church, and about the grievous
schism which I fear, and the many evils we are suffering
from. But 1 have written to the holy Bishops around your
person ; you can, if you wish it, hear from them what I
have written.
LETTER CCXIX. (A.D. 1143.)
TO THREE 1 BISHOPS OF THE CURIA ; ALBERIC 2 OF OSTIA,
STEPHEN OF PR^ENESTE, IGMARUS OF TUSCULUM, 3
AND TO THE CHANCELLOR GERARD.
1 The common reading " three " is better than four," which is found in
some MSS. ; for Gerard the Chancellor was not a Bishop. He was afterwards
made Pontiff under the name of Lucius II.
- Alberic of Verdun in France was dead; Bernard is recorded to have
offered the Sacrifice of praise at his tomb (Life, lib. iv. n. 21). He is men
tioned in Letter 241 ; Stephen in Letter 224.
J Igmarus, or Ymarus, was a Cluniac monk of S. Martin des Champs, then
LETTER CCXIX. 631
Respecting the interdict laid on the realm of France on
account of tJie Archbishop of Bourges.
i. How great an evil is schism in the Church, and how
it is to be detested and in every way avoided, is plainly
shown by the well known dreadful death of those men
whom the earth swallowed up and sent down alive into
hell because of this very pest. It has been shown too by
the persecution of Guibert, 1 and the rashness of Bourdin,
whom our times have seen separating between the kingdom
and the priesthood, and so inflicting on them both an
almost incurable wound and a cruel chastisement. It has
been shown too by the mad schism of Leo, which after
grievous and manifold trouble and loss to the Church has
lately by the mercy of God received its death blow. Well
then does the Saviour say in the Gospel : Woe to that man
bv whom the offence cometh (S. Matt, xviii. 7). Woe to
us who live bewailing what we have endured, grieving
for what we feel, and fearing what we expect. And what
is worse, human affairs are come to such an evil pass
that the guilty are not willing to be humbled, nor the
judges to show mercy. We say to the wicked: Deal
not so wickedly ; and to the sinners : Lift not up your horn
(Ps. Ixxv. 5), and they will not listen to us, for it is a rebel
lious house (Ezek. ii. 5). We beseech those whose office it
is to rebuke the sin to save the sinner, not to break the
bruised reed, and not quench the smoking flax, and they
all the more break the ships of Tarshish with a violent
wind.
Prior of La Charite sur Loire, then Abbot of the New Monastery in Poictiers
(under which name he took part in drawing up an agreement made between
Louis the younger and Argrimus, Archdeacon of Orleans : see Duchesne, Vol. iv.
p. 764), and was finally created a Cardinal by Innocent. He was a man of
great integrity, as appears from the Cluninc Chronicle under the Abbot Pontius.
To these Cardinals Letter 230 and the two following were alsjp written.
1 So named from Guibert, Bishop of Ravenna, whom the Emperor Henry
IV. set up as antipope in opposition toj_ Gregory VII., and the three following
legitimate Pontiffs. Maurice Burdin also, Archbishop of Braga, was intruded
into the Roman See by Henry V., and was at last compelled by Calixtus II. to
retire to the monastery of Cava. His life was written in a pleasing style by
Stephen Baluze (Misc. Vol. iii).
632 LETTER CCX1X.
2. When, with the Apostle, we bid sons obey their
parents in all things, we may as well beat the air. When
we tell parents not to provoke their children to anger, we
only call down their anger on our own heads. Sinners no
longer w r ill consent to give satisfaction, nor those who bear
the rule or the rod in any wise to condescend. All follow
their own pride and passion ; and, pulling a rope with all
their might in different directions, they break it. Alas !
the scar of the wound so recently given to the Church 1 has
hardly healed over, when they are again doing all they can
to tear it open, to nail the Body of Christ to the cross, to
pierce again His unoffending side, to divide His garments,
and, though in vain, as far as in them lies, to rend asunder
His robe which is woven without seam. If you have any
feelings of piety, set yourselves against such evils, lest a
schism take place on that soil where, as you well know,
other schisms are wont to be healed. For if the author of a
scandal is stricken specially by a tremendous curse from
the mouth of his Judge, of what blessings may we suppose
that they are worthy who conquer and put to flight this
wickedness ?
3. Of two wrongs I cannot acquit the King. For he both
took an unlawful oath and perseveres in it contrary to justice. 2
1 Viz., the schism of Anacletus.
2 William of Nangis thus relates the affair in his Chronicle : " In the year
i r42 a dispute arose between Pope Innocent and Louis, King of the French, by
which the Gallican Church was disturbed. For on the death of Alberic, Arch
bishop of Bourges, Peter was consecrated and sent by the Pope to succeed him.
But Louis rejected him, and refused to receive him because he had been conse
crated without his consent. Now, King Louis had given permission to the
Church of Bourges to choose whom they would, except Peter alone, and had
taken an oath publicly that while he lived Peter should not be Archbishop. Yet
for all that he was elected and went to Rome, and was consecrated by the Pope,
who said, We must teach and curb this boy -king, lest he get used to such
actions, and he added, That is no true freedom of choice when an exception of
any person is made by the King, unless he is proved before an ecclesiastical judge
to be incapable of election. For then he has a hearing like anyone else. But
the King, as I said before, refused to receive the Archbishop on his return. Then
Count Theobald welcomed him into his country, and he ruled the churches from
there. This enraged the King, and he called together his vassals and made war
on Theobald." This is William s account, and from it we must correct that of
Matthew of Paris, who places the affair in the year 1146. This dispute reached
LETTER CCX1X. 633
But he does so not so much from his own will as from a
sense of honour ill-directed. For it is reckoned disgrace
ful, as you know, among the French, to break an oath, how
ever much the oath may be against the public good, although
no wise man doubts that unlawful oaths ought not to be
kept. But not even so can I admit that he is to be excused.
For I have not undertaken to excuse him, but to ask pardon.
See whether passion, his age, or his high rank can in any
degree be his excuse. It will avail him, no doubt, if you
decide that mercy is to be exalted above judgment, viz., in
so far as such excuse is to be taken into consideration
in the case of a king, who is but a lad ; so that for this time
perhaps he may be spared, but on this understanding, that
he does not count on similar leniency for the future. I mean
that he may be dealt lightly with, if it can be done with
out endangering the liberty of the Church in any way ; and
if at the same time the honour that is due to an Archbishop
consecrated by Apostolic hands is preserved. The King
himself humbly asks this, this the whole Church on this
side of the Alps suppliantly implores after her too long
affliction. Otherwise we join hands with death, we pine
and wither away for fear, and for looking after those things
which are coming on the whole world. Indeed this has
been my prayer since last year ; and since my sins called
for it, I received not a favourable answer but anger, and
desolation over nearly the whole earth followed on the
anger. If my zeal has caused anything to escape me which
ought not to have been said, or ought to have been said
otherwise than it was, let it be, I beg you, as if unsaid.
But let not that be in vain which I have said as I ought,
and when I ought.
such a point that not only did King Louis lay waste the territories of Theobald,
but burnt to the ground Vitry, together with a large number of its inhabitants
of both sexes ; moreover, he forbade all elections and ordinations of Bishops
within his realm, and handed over their estates to his brother Robert. S. Bernard
bitterly complained of this in the case of Rheims, Paris, and Chalons, in his
222nd Letter to Joscelyn of Soissons, and again in his 224th to Stephen of
Praeneste. At length he succeeded in quashing this unfortunate divorce on the
accession of Eugenius III. to the Papal See.
VOL. II. 41
634 LETTER CCXX.
LETTER CCXX.
To Louis, KING OF FRANCE.
He repulses the unjust demand of the King on behalf of
Count Ralph, and warns him not to oppress the innocent,
and arouse against himself the anger of the King Supreme.
1. I ever readily strive and will strive to the utmost of my
little power for the things which make for your honour and
the good of your kingdom ; and this you deign to admit,
and your own conscience bears me witness. But with
regard to your complaint to your humble servant about the
anathema to be shortly renewed against Count Ralph, 1 and
your wish that I should in every possible way endeavour to
prevent it, because of the many evils which you think will
ensue, to be plain with you I do not see how I can do this,
and go against the Apostolic decree. Even if I had the
power I do not see how I could do so reasonably. I shall
be sorry certainly if evils ensue, but still we ought not
therefore to do evil that good may come. It is better and
safer to leave all this to the will and providence of
Almighty God, who is able to bring to pass and confirm
the good that He wishes, and either to prevent the evils
which evil men contrive, or else bring on themselves the
evils which they desire and seek for.
2. But I am very distressed by one thing which is con
tained in your Majesty s letter, viz., that this anathema
must militate against the peace made between you and
Count Theobald. Do you not know that it was a grievous
offence that Count Theobald was obliged by the violence
of your inroad to take an oath against God and against
righteousness, not only because it sought, but also because
it brought about the absolution of the aforesaid Count
Ralph and his land, an absolution as little deserved as
lawful. Do you wish again to add sin to sin, and to heap
up the wrath of God against you? which may He forbid.
How has Count Theobald done wrong, that he deserves to
1 For two reasons the King was enraged at the anathema pronounced against
Ralph, because he was a relation, as Hermann of Tournay records, and also
because he had taken as his second wife a sister of the Queen.
LETTER CCXXI. 635
incur your anger again, when with so much toil and trouble
he obtained the absolution of Count Ralph, though an
unjust one, as you know, and has neither striven, nor is
now striving for the renewal of the excommunication, though
it is returning most justly, inasmuch as from fear of you he
has even protested against it. Do not, my lord King, do
not, I pray you, dare to resist so plainly your King, nay,
the Creator of all, in His kingdom and territory, and with
frequent and rash audacity to lift your hand against that
terrible Being who takes away the breath of princes, and
is terrible among the kings of the earth. I speak sharply,
because I fear sharp things for you ; and I should not fear
for you so much if my affection for you were not so great.
LETTER CCXXI. (A.D. 1142.)
To THE SAME.
He gravely reproves King Louis, because he listens to bad
advice and rejects counsels of peace.
i. God knows how great has been my affection for you
from the time I first knew you, and how ardently I have
wished for your honour ; you too know with what toil and
anxiety I throughout the past year strove together with
your other faithful servants to obtain peace for you. But
I am afraid that our labour in your cause has been fruitless.
For you evidently are kicking with too much haste and
fickleness against the good and wholesome advice you had
received ; and I hear that you are hurrying, under I know
now what counsel of the devil, to those former evils, which
you were but now bewailing, and properly bewailing, that
you had been guilty of committing, and this while those
wounds are still fresh. For from whom except from the
devil can I say that this counsel proceeds which makes us
add fires to fires and slaughter to slaughter ? ! "which causes
the cry of the poor, the groanings of the captives, and the
blood of the slain, to strike a second time the ears of the
Father of the fatherless, and the Judge of widows ?
1 This refers to the burning of Vitry and the people in it ; see notes on Letter
224.
636 LETTER CCXXI.
(Ps. Ixviii. 5.) Doubtless.that old victimiser (hostis, enemy;
of our race, is pleased with these victims (host Us) , for he is a
murderer from the beginning (S. John viii. 44). And do
not take occasion from Count Theobald to pile up excuses
for your sins ; it is useless ; for he says he is prepared, and
in every way he begs, to come to the terms arranged
between you when peace was made, and he is willing to
make satisfaction in all points, according to the decision of
all who love your name, i.e., those who acted as mediators
between you ; so that if he can be convicted of any wrong,
and he is confident he cannot, he will not hesitate to make
immediate amends to your honour.
2. But you neither entertain proposals for peace, nor
keep to your agreements, nor listen to good advice ; but by
some judgment of God you so turn everything round that you
consider disgrace honour and honour disgrace. You fear
for what is safe, and neglect what should be feared, and
you incur the rebuke which Joab is recorded to have given
to the holy and glorious King David, Thou lovest thine
enemies and hatest thy friends (2 Sam. xix. 6). For it is
not your honour but their own advantage which they seek,
who are instigating you to renew your former evil-doing
against an innocent person. Nay, it is not so much their
own advantage as the will of the devil, in order that they
may have (which God forbid) the power of the king as an
effectual worker of their hot-headed purpose, which they
know that they cannot accomplish by their own strength.
They are enemies to your crown, and manifest disturbers
of the kingdom.
3. But whatever it may please you to do in a matter
which concerns your crown, your soul, and your kingdom,
we sons of the Church cannot wholly keep silence about the
injuries done to our mother, and the way in which she is
despised and trodden under foot ; for we perceive that
these evils, besides those which we lament piteously have
already fallen upon her, are again partly inflicted afresh
and partly threatened. We will certainly make a stand,
and fight even to death, if need be, for our mother with the
LETTER CCXXI. 637
weapons allowed us, not with shield and sword, but with
prayers and lamentations to God. And I for my part
recollect that, besides the daily prayers, which I call my
Lord to witness, I humbly poured forth for your peace and
salvation and for your kindgom, I also pleaded your cause
by messengers and letters to the Apostolic See (I confess
it), even to the damage of my own conscience, and (which
I ought not to deny) to the anger of the supreme Pontiff
himself against me. Now, I tell you, that provoked by
your constant outrages, which you do not cease to renew
daily, I begin to repent of my former folly, which made me
more indulgent to your youth than I ought to have been.
For the future, to the best of my little power, I will not hold
back the truth.
4. I will not conceal the fact that you are doing all you
can to again enter into alliance and fellowship with the ex
communicated, that you are keeping company (so I am
told) with robbers and freebooters for the murder of men,
the burning of houses, the destruction of churches, and the
dispersion of the poor, according to the saying of the
Psalmist, When thou sawest a thief then thou consentedst
unto him, and hast been partaker with adulterers (Ps. 1.
1 8), as though you had not enough power of your own to
work mischief. I will not hold back the fact that that un
lawful and accursed oath foolishly taken by you against the
Church of Bourges (through which so many and so great
misfortunes have already deservedly followed) is still, not
withstanding all this, uncorrected by you ; that you do not
allow a pastor to be set over the sheep of Christ at Chalons ;
and moreover that you have the audacity to throw open
Episcopal houses for the use of your brother 1 and his archers
and cross-bowmen, against law and justice, and so expose
the property of the Church to be squandered in nefarious uses
of this kind. I tell you plainly that if you proceed in this
1 Viz., Robert; for whom see Letter 224, n. 2, and 304. In Letter 293
(of Duchesne), the fathers complain to King Louis that Count Robert, his
brother, "had eaten flesh in their Granges," contrary to the interdict of the
Order. See Letter 224, respecting the Church of Chalons.
638 LETTER CCXXII.
way the wrong will not be unavenged, and, therefore, my
lord king, I warn you as a friend and advise you as a faith
ful servant to desist quickly from this wickedness, so that
if [God] is now preparing His hand to strike, you may, like
the King of Nineveh, prevent Him with penitence and
humility. I speak severely, because I fear severe things
for you ; but remember that the Wise Man says, Better are
the wounds of a friend than the fraudulent kisses of an
enemy (Prov. xxvii. 6.)
LETTER CCXXII. (A.D. 1142.)
TO JOSCELYN, BISHOP OF SOISSONS, AND SUGER, ABBOT
OF S. DENYS.
He complains to them, as the King s counsellors, of his
unjust attacks upon Count Theobald.
i. I had written to the King, rebuking him for the wrongs
done in his kingdom, which are said to be done by his con
sent, and I have thought it fit to bring his reply before you
who are of his council. For I wonder if he believes what
he says, and if he does not, I wonder how he expects to
make me believe it, when, as you know, I am aware of
everything which took place with a view to making peace.
For he says, as you can see in his letters, when he was
trying to prove that the agreement had not been well kept
by the Count, " Our Bishops still remain suspended, our
land is still under an interdict," as though it belonged to
Count Theobald to put an end to any ecclesiastical in
terdict whatever, or as if he ever promised that he would.
He says, " Count Ralph was mocked and his excommuni
cation renewed/ And what has this to do with Count
Theobald ? Did he not faithfully carry out and effectually
perform whatever promise he made about this matter ?
Rather, was not the King caught in his own craftiness, and
did he not fall into the pit which he made ? Was this the
sole reason why the King made void the agreement which
LETTER CCXXII. 639
he had made and which your lips pronounced ? Was it
right for this that the anger of the King should be kindled
against God and against His Church, against himself and
his kingdom ? Because of this ought he to have so forgotten
his honour as to send his brother to overcome his vassal,
whom he had not even declared war against, much less
warned privately or reasoned with, and that, too, through
Chalons, and you know the agreement come to between
the King and Count about this state especially.
2. But the King makes it a further complaint that the
Count, contrary to the allegiance due to him, is endeavour
ing to ally himself by marriage with the Count of Flanders
and Soissons. 1 Well, a suspicion about his fidelity is not a
certitude ; moreover, you can see the morality of setting
aside fixed agreements because of empty suspicions. Nor
ought suspicion of such a man as the Count to be enter
tained at all. Are, then, those to whom the Count allies
himself necessarily the King s enemies, and not his vassals
or his friends ? Is not the Count of Flanders a relation of
the King by blood, and, as he says himself, the staff of his
kingdom? In what way, then, does his vassal and faithful
servant act against the allegiance that he owes the King, if
he allies himself by the marriage of those of his own house,
to the King s friends? If any one were to consider the
matter with an unprejudiced eye, would he not rather see
that it greatly adds to the peace, strength, and security
of the kingdom ?
3. Hut I do wonder how the King can dare to say that he
had ascertained that I knew that Count Theobald had en
deavoured to draw over Count Ralph to his side against the
King. For he said more to my niessenger than he wrote ; that
I had very often told Count Ralph that I would take on
myself the greatest part of his sins if he would join himself
i Bernard calls them Barons of the King in ep. 124 n". 3. Hermann oi
Tournay explains this passage, p. 394, where he speaks of Theodoric, Count
of Flanders, who " had betrothed his daughter to Henry, son of Theobald,
though the King of the French did his best to break off the alliance by saying
that they were related within the third degree of consanguinity. Theobald
meditated also allying his daughter to the Count of Soissons. See ep. 224 n. 4.
640 LETTER CCXXII.
to Count Theobald. If the man exists by whom I sent
such messages, let him come forward and accuse me
openly. If I wrote it in letters, let them be produced.
Let the King see whom he has believed. I am certain that
I have never known anything of what he alleges. I think
the same, too, about Count Theobald, for he denies it in every
way. May God look upon and judge the King for accusing
Count Theobald on suspicion, when he himself, against his
agreements, against the precepts of God, and the sentence
of the Supreme Pontiff, is keeping Count Ralph close by
him, and is communicating with one that is an adulterer
and excommunicate.
4. The King also says: "I have almost had upon my hands
two bitter assailants." And the prophet answers in scorn :
They feared where no fear was (Ps. xiv. 5). Lo! he says, I
am assailed, I, who did not assail any one; I, who persecuted
not, suffer persecution. Who, I ask, who is assailing him ?
Or who is persecuting him ? Is not the Count entreating
him, and that humbly ? Is he not ready to honour the
King, to serve and obey him as his liege-lord ? Is he not
earnestly praying for peace, and doing all he can to win
the King s good will ? Suppose that it is not so, but that it is
the Count rather who is doing all this wrong to the King ;
should he not have had recourse to that which you know
was determined on ? For they agreed between them that,
if any controversy or difference should arise about any of
the articles agreed upon they would neither do nor seek any
injury to each other until the matter had been ventilated
and discussed between us three and the Bishop of Auxerre,
for we were then the mediators ; and if any quarrel arose
we ought to have been called on to settle it. And that the
Count in every way asks for, but the King refuses.
5. In short, even if the Count has deserved punishment,
why has the Church of God deserved it? I mean not only
the Church of Bourges, but also that of Chalons, and even of
Rheims, and of Paris. 1 Suppose that the King has right on
his side against the Count, by what right, I ask, by what
1 See notes to ep. 216 and ep. 224.
LETTER CCXXII. 641
right does he presume to lay waste the possessions and
lands of the Church, to prevent pastors being set over the
sheep of Christ, to forbid those elected to be promoted to
their head ? By what right does he bring about the post
ponement of an election (a thing hitherto unheard of) until
he has swallowed up all the revenues, carried off the goods
of the poor, and until the land is wholly made desolate ? Do
you advise him to this ? It is wonderful, indeed, if it is
done against your advice ; still more wonderful and mis
chievous if it is by your advice. For to advise to this is
manifestly to create a schism, to resist God, to make a tool
of the Church, and to reduce to slavery our ecclesiastical
liberty. If any one is a faithful servant of God and His
Church, he will certainly stand up and oppose himself as a
wall as far as he can in defence of the house of God. For
how can you yourselves, if you desire the peace of the
Church, as behoves children of peace, I do not say give
such evil counsel, but even have any part in it ? For what
ever evil is done is rightly imputed, not to the King, but
to his aged advisers.
LETTER CCXXIII. (A.D. 1143.)
To THE BISHOP OF SOISSONS.
Bernard excuses himself courteously to the Bishop, who
had replied to his former letter in such a way that this
was the salutation, "Health in the Lord and not the
sp irit of calu m ny."
i. I do not think that I have in me anything of the spirit
of calumny, but I know certainly that I have never wished
nor wish now to curse anyone, especially a prince of my
people. But whatever that may be by which your dignity
thinks itself wronged, for it I ask pardon, for I know who
said, Being defamed we entreat (i Cor. iv. 13). I say,
then, with blessed Job, Would that I had not said what
I have, and I will say no more (Job xl. 5). When I
642 LETTER CCXXIII.
lately wrote to my lord the Abbot of S. Denys about your
common complaint I answered both of you, and I thought
that I had done enough, and since I see that your anger is
not yet appeased, which more justly, perhaps, would have
been kindled against the oppressors of the Church, I also
say to you that I never said, wrote, or believed that you
were schismatics or promoters of scandal, and I say so with
an easy mind, for I am not afraid that my letter will convict
me of falsehood. Examine it, if you please, and if you find
that I said so I will confess that I have been guilty of great
profanity, and that what you say is true, that I wrote the
letter impelled by a spirit of calumny.
2. But lest my humble explanation seem to exclude the
spirit of liberty, let me say that I grieved, and I do still, to
find that you do not yet avenge the wrongs of Christ or
defend the liberty of the Church with the liberty that is
fitting. That grief compelled me to write severe things,
but they were not of the spirit that you complained of. I
thought certainly, and I would still think if I were not
afraid that this would offend you, that it is by no means
enough for you not to be the authors of the schism. You
should, with all your strength, freely restrain those who are
the authors, whatever their rank may be, and condemn their
counsel and society. I should think it an honour to you if
you too could say, / have hated the congregation of the
wicked, and will not sit among the ungodly (Ps. xxvi. 5).
Was it that prophet alone that zeal befitted, and is it not as
much required now from a priest of the Lord to say with
him, Do not I hate them, O Lord, that hate Thee, and am
not I grieved with those that rise up against Thee ? (Ps.
cxxxix. 21). I much wish (and with no wish to anger your
Serenity 1 I will say it) that you had exercised this zeal against
the young King, who, more like a cruel tyrant than a boy, 2
1 A title which (ep. 170) he had before given to the King of the French. He
here gives it to the Bishop, but only as the King s counsellor. He also salutes
Innocent by the same name (ep. 337, n. i).
He calls Louis a boy after the manner of Holy Scripture, though he was
married and over 22 years old. The same word is similarly used in ep. 170 and
elsewhere.
LETTER CCXXIV. 643
has gone against your advice and his own promises, who,
without cause, is disturbing his kingdom, stirring up all
round him wars in heaven and earth, laying waste the
churches, laying an impious hand on sacred things, exalting
the wicked, persecuting the good, and destroying the inno
cent. I repeat that I wish you were sorry for these things,
that you would withstand and resist them to the best of
your power. But it is not my place to teach such an one as
Magister Joscelyn, much less to rebuke a Bishop, who
should rather punish me and other sinners and correct
those who err. You see how much I fear you. Since you
thought ill of my last letter being open I send you this one
sealed, for certainly I meant nothing else by it than to follow
the usual practice of not sealing with wax a letter 1 sent to
different people. I now ask your pardon for so doing also.
LETTER CCXXIV. (A.D. 1143.)
To STEPHEN, BISHOP OF PRAENESTE. 2
Bernard details the ill-doings of King Louis, and his
injuries to the Church.
i. Jeremiah when addressing God for his enemies speaks
in this way : Remember that I stood before Thee to speak
good for them, and to turn away Thy wrath from them ;
and he goes on to say, therefore deliver up their children
to the famine, and give them into the power of the sword
(Jer. xviii. 20, 21}. And he calls down on them other im
precations of this sort, and quite as grievous. I thought
that I might now remind your Reverence of this passage,
because I find that I am in a condition like that of the
Prophet. For you know how I too stood up for the King
1 Hence he says (ep. 304), " My seal is not at hand." Also in ep. 402. The
name and likeness of Bernard were engraved on the seal (ep. 284, where see
note).
Stephen of Praeneste, to whom ep. 219 also was addressed, was a
Cistercian, was made Cardinal in 1 140, and died in 1 144. Ernald in his Life of
S. Bernard (lib. ii. n. 49) speaks of him as a man of great modesty. John of
Salisbury also praises him above others. He was most likely of Chalons.
644 LETTER CCXXIV.
in the sight of my Lord, being, indeed, absent in body, but
present in spirit, that I might speak good for him. He,
indeed, promised well. But now that he returns evil for
good I am compelled to write differently. I am ashamed
of my mistake, and of the groundless hope which I enter
tained of him ; and I am thankful that the prayer which I
put up in my simplicity was not answered. I thought that
I was serving a peaceful king, and I find that I was helping
a bitter enemy to the Church. 1 Our holy things are trodden
under his feet, and the Church is shamefully enslaved. For
1 The state of the Church, as well as of the civil power, under Louis the
Younger is plainly enough shown in epp. 216-222 above; here he depicts the
tearful and sorrow-stricken face of the Galilean Church. Otto of Frisingen does
the same (Chron. lib. vii. c. 21) ; he says: " Western 2 France on the death of
the King, under his son Louis who succeeded him, suffered so grievously through
fire and sword in the war between him and Theobald, that unless it had been
brought to an end by the merits, prayers, and counsel of the Religious in that
province, the whole country seemed likely to be consumed." Otto here describes
the preservation of Gaul to the prayers and good counsel of the Religious.
Who, then, can doubt that, as it was said, the world stands firm through the merits
of the Saints ? And who can doubt that among them Bernard led the van, the
common counsellor and leader, not only of Gaul, or of Europe, but of the whole
world ? But in passing let me say how difficult it is to see how Louis could
have been so praised by Historians, as, e.g., Gordon, writing on the year 1180.
Certainly if you take Bernard as a good witness in these Letters, and especially
this one, you cannot call Louis very praiseworthy. But so are the ways of men :
they praise and blame according to their affection. We need not go far for an
instance. For at the present time how many different opinions are held and
judgments given on the plans, expeditions, treaties, and other doings of kings
and princes ? Some make things turn to their praise and glory which others
censure and condemn most severely. Some think that of this kind are the wars
carried on to the harm of religion and the Church, the fostering of heresies, the
profanation of places dedicated to God, the scorning of holy things, the oppres
sion of the poor, the loss inflicted on the State, the weakening of the vigour and
dignity of the Church. Yet you will find others glossing over these evils, or
knowing how to palliate them, and exalting to the skies with their praises those
by whose labour and under whose auspices such things are carried out. Still we
have no wish to detract from the merits of King Louis, if he improved when he
grew older. Perhaps when of riper years he atoned for the crimes of his youth
by the noble deeds of his manhood. For he survived Bernard many years, dying
in the year 1180. I read too that he gave S. Bernard himself proofs of his
repentance. For Emilius speaks of him thus : " The King, in a great rage,
attacked him [Theobald] and took and plundered Vitry which was in his
domains. He burnt secular and sacred buildings without making any distinc-
2 Sic , but should he not have said " Eastern France" ? [E.]
LETTER CCXX1V. 645
not only is it forbidden to hold elections of Bishops, but if
the clergy anywhere have ventured to do so, the prelate of
their choice is not allowed to exercise his episcopal func
tions. In short, the Church of Paris is sitting in sadness,
deprived of her own pastor, and no one dares so much as to
whisper about finding another.
2. It is not enough for him that the episcopal residences
are spoiled of the goods now in them ; his sacrilegious hand
is raging against men and lands everywhere, for he claims
from each for himself the revenues of the whole year as
well. The Church of Chalons has, indeed, held an election,
but he who was elected 1 has been now for a long time
deprived of his honour, and you know that this cannot take
place without grievous loss to the Lord s flock. The King
has charged his brother Robert to administer the Bishopric,
and he, exercising his power over all the lands and goods
of the Church, and being not slothful in the execution
of his office, is offering daily sacrifices to heaven, not,
indeed, sacrifices of peace, but the cries of the poor, the
tears of widows, the wailing of orphans, the groans of
captives, and the blood of the slain. But that episcopate
is too narrow for his wickedness, so he is now attacking
lion, and in one large churcli 1,500, both young and old were burnt, who had
fled to the altars for protection. Afterwards the King, coming to himself, was
sei/ed with great grief; he afflicted himself and refused consolation. Bernard
was sent for because he was renowned for his evident holiness already under King_
Louis le Gros ; and though a disciple only, it was said, ot the woods and glades,
who had become very learned, under no other teacher, he had brought his holiness
and learning out of solitude before crowds, out of darkness into light. He was
then introduced, and was kindly received by the King, and when he saw his tears
and had been told the cause, he said, These tears, if they do not quickly dry up,
can extinguish all recollection of the burniMg of Vitry. Only add to them
constancy and determination, and let not your lamentation be like a woman s,
but show a manly and truly royal courage. " What else is here said about the
King s hindering the election of the Bishops may be seen in the notes to ep. 219.
1 Geoffrey of Chalons, mentioned in ep. 66, died in the year 1142; in his
place Guy, here spoken of, was elected. Samson, Archbishop of Rlieims,
because he supported Count Theobald, had been expelled by the King s servants,
who also plundered the City Churches of S. Mary, S. Remigius, and S. Nicasius,
and the suburban monastery of S. Thierry. See the mention here, as in
ep. 222 n. 5, of the See of Paris, to which Theobald had been chosen on the
death of Stephen.
646 LETTER CCXXIV.
Rheims, and carrying on his ill-deeds in the land of the
saints, sparing neither clerks, nor monks nor nuns. In
short, he has laid waste with the edge of the sword the
fruitful fields and populous villages of S. Mary, S. Remigius,
S. Nicasius, S. Thierry in such a way that he has re
duced them all to almost a wilderness. The cry is fre
quently heard by all, Let us take to ourselves the houses of
God in possession (Ps. Ixxxiii. 12). So does the King
improve upon the wrong he has done to the Church of
Bourges under an oath like Herod s.
3. Moreover, when, after we had expended no little
labour on the matter, he had made peace with Count
Theobald, and as we thought, had entered on a treaty of
firm friendship: but now he seeks occasion to withdraw from
his friend. This is brought as a heinous charge against
the Count, that he is making matrimonial alliances for his
children with the King s barons. A loosening of friendship
is suspected by the King in this, and he does not think
himself a king if his chieftains love each other. Your
wisdom may conjecture what kind of disposition he bears
towards his subjects when he thinks himself the stronger, if
there is hatred and discord between them. You may see
and determine whether this man is of God, who trusts more
in the mutual rivalry of his barons than their mutual love,
when God is love (i S. John iv. 8). He would hold this if
he had the wisdom of him who said, Love is strong as death,
jealousy is cruel as the grave (Cant. viii. 6). Besides, he
openly breaks his conventions and terms of peace agreed
on, and does not hold himself to the promises which his
own lips have uttered. Lastly, he has recalled to his palace
and to his Council an adulterous and excommunicate man
[Ralph] whom he had agreed to banish, and in order to work
greater wickedness, the King, and official guardian 1 of the
Church, is a second time leagued w T ith many other like
worthless characters, excommunicated and perjured men,
incendiaries, murderers, and this against one of whose love
for the Church and willingness to defend her there is no
1 Advocatus.
LETTER CCXXIV. 647
doubt, according to the saying of the Prophet, When thou
sawest a thief thou consentedst unto him, and hast been
partaker with the adulterers (Ps. 1. 18).
4. In addition to all this, he compels bishops, after his
custom, to curse those who should be blessed, and to bless
those who should be cursed. And since he sets no bounds
to what it may please him to do, he compasses sea and land
to find perjurers by whose means those whom God has
joined together may be by man put asunder. With what
face, I ask, can he endeavour so hard to lay down laws to
others about consanguinity when, as is well known, he is
living with his cousins within the third degree P 1 I do not
know (for I have never to my knowledge praised, nor do I
now, any forbidden marriages) whether there is any con
sanguinity between the son of Count Theobald and the
daughter of the Count of Flanders, and also between the
Count of Soissons and the daughter of Count Theobald :
but you know, and my lord knows, that their nuptials are
forbidden. If it is lawful for them to be united, then their
being forbidden is the disarming of the Church, and the
withdrawal of strength from her. Nor do I suppose that
the object of those who oppose him is anything else but to
prevent those who venture to withstand the schism which is
threatened, from rinding refuge in the territories of the
aforenamed princes. So far my zeal carries me. For I
have no power to redress the faults which I have been able
to point out. I have, however, been able to warn him who
can. The zeal of my lord will do this. I thought it neces
sary that he should be informed of the great suffering and
danger of the Church, and no one can do it so well as you,
who share his counsels and spirit. And I pray you have me
excused with him for writing with altered pen now that the
King has altered, for you know that the Prophet of God
1 John Besley, in his ,Gallican History of the Counts of Poictiers, thus
explains the consanguinity between Louis VII. and Eleanor his wife, daughter
of William, Count of Aquitaine : Aldeardis, great grandmother of Eleanor,
was sister to the wife of Humbert II., Count of S. Jean de Maurienne, and so
aunt to Adda, mother of King Louis.
648 LETTER CCXXVI.
said to God, With the innocent thou shall be innocent, and
with the perverse man Thou shalt show Thyself perverse
(Ps. xviii. 26).
LETTER CCXXV. (A.D. 1143.)
TO THE BISHOP OF SOISSONS. 1
Bernard urges him to promote peace.
We have worked hard, but it is a question whether we
have made much progress. We have sown much, but
reaped little. We want, I must tell you, your help and
presence. You will hear from our common friend, the
Abbot of S. Denys, why we did not seek your help before
in our great strait. But now I appeal to your holy watch
fulness to dissemble no more, but to labour for the things
which make for peace according to the wisdom given you
by God. For you ought not to need entreaty to take such
action, since it is evident that by it your ministry is not
only greatly honoured, but also that if you neglect it, it is
greatly disgraced. I hope to see you at the festival an
nounced to be held at S. Denys. 2
LETTER CCXXVI. (A.D. 1143.)
To Louis, KING OF THE FRENCH.
Bernard and Hugo complain of the King s persistence in
ill -doing.
To Louis, by the grace of God illustrious King of the
French, and Duke of Aquitaine, HUGH, Bishop of Auxerre,
his humble servant, and BERNARD, Abbot of Clairvaux,
wish health, and desire that he should love righteousness,
and judge his land in wisdom.
i. It is a long time since we left our homes and set
aside our private interests in order to labour, as God
1 Joscelyn.
2 Was this an assembly cf the nobles of the kingdom, or the Dedication
Festival which is kept by S. Denys in February on S. Matthias Day ?
LETTER CCXXVI. 649
is our witness, for your peace, and the peace of your
realm. We lament that so far we have reaped no
fruit, or very little, in return for all our labour. Still the
poor are crying after us, still the land is daily going to
ruin. Do you ask what land ? Yours, none other. For it
is within your realm, and against your realm that all these
evils are being perpetrated. For whether it be your friends
or your enemies who are being impoverished, taken pri
soners, and crushed by that war, they are from nowhere else
than your kingdom. In it the saying of the Saviour seems
to be daily coming true, that every kingdom divided against
itself shall be brought to desolation (S. Luke xi. 17). To
this there is added the fact that these dividers and desolators
themselves have made you the head and leader of this
wickedness, when they ought to have feared you especially
as their opponent, and felt you most of all as their punisher.
Still, we hoped that you, touched and illuminated by God,
had perceived their great wickedness, had recognized your
error, and were desirous under wiser counsels to withdraw
your foot from this snare.
2. But the conference lately held between us at Corbeil,
has dispelled any such hope. For you know how, and how
unreasonably (by your leave be it said) you then left us.
Whence it happened that your displeasure with us did not
allow us to give you any clear explanation of that passage
in our discourse which displeased you. But if you had
deigned to await it with undisturbed mind you might,
perhaps, have learnt that nothing was said by us that was
an insult to your majesty, or unendurable in the present
position of your affairs. But, as it is, since you have been
provoked without any cause, you have disturbed and con
fused us, and you also keep us, being men who desire and
seek your good, in doubt and anxiety as to what we are to
do. What has disturbed you is nothing but the fraud of
the wicked, and the idle talk of men who know little,
who call evil good and good evil. But though we have been
troubled, yet we do not altogether despair of the help of the
Spirit, who, we see, has wholesomely smitten your mind for
VOL. II. 42
650 LETTER CCXXVII.
your past evil deeds, and we still stand and wait till your
better nature return, and you effectually accomplish what
you have wisely begun. For this reason we have sent to
you our dear brother Andrew of Baudiment, 1 who will tell
you of these things more fully, and will faithfully bring
back word to us of whatever reply you may have been
pleased to give. But if (which God forbid) you persist in
withstanding good advice, we are clean from your blood ;
God will not any longer suffer His Church to be trodden
down either by you or yours.
LETTER CCXXVII. (A.D. 1143.)
To THE BISHOP OF SOISSONS.
Bernard earnestly implores the help of the Bishop.
I have always stood in need of my friends good offices,
for I am a man greatly to be pitied in mind and body ; but
now especially is the need and time for pity when my
conscience is troubling me, when the hand of the Lord is
heavy upon me, when I have sold myself into a hard prison, 2
and am a severe judge against myself. If you are still my
father (for I confess you have been hitherto) let your son
feel it, that son whose filial affection has not grown cool to
this day. I know, I know how difficult it is to wrest his club
from the hand of Hercules, and I am on that account the more
urgent, because I seek a difficult thing. But the more difficult
it is the more earnestly do I entreat the bestowal of it. If
1 This Andrew was well known and had been employed in many different
businesses. His name is found subscribed to the original deeds of the Abbey of
Chercamp (Spirit. Vol. ii. p. 329) ; and with S. Bernard he was a witness to the
agreement made between King- Louis and Argrimus, Archdeacon of Orleans
(Duchesne Vol. iv. p. 764). Inthe transference of the Church of Vieux-Crecy A.D.
1 1 22, to the Monastery of S. Martin des Champs, by Burchard Bishop of Meaux,
there is amongst other things a donation made by Stephen, son of Roric, "in
the presence of Count Theobald, and Andrew of Baudiment, who gave his
approval as far as he was concerned." The same Andrew was present at a
Council held at Troyes A.D. 1128. Cf. Ep. 284.
2 7.e. of monastic seclusion and retreat.
LETTER CCXXVIII. 651
I obtain it I shall confess myself a debtor for a great, a very
great kindness. And I am not ignorant that it is more
blessed to give than to receive (Acts xx. 35) ; but I yield to
necessity, I go to meet dangers, I take counsel in my
difficulties, and for the time being I either put aside or
torget my selfishness. And so yielding to you, as is fitting,
the more honourable place I take for myself the more
modest ; I show my modesty not only in being indecorously
ready to receive, but also more importunate in asking. I
ask, then, suppliantly, instantly, opportunely, importunately.
For I do not ask anything which it does not become you to
grant, or which will bring me shame afterwards for having
accepted, even if it does not become me now to seek it in
this way. For if you set free the poor man from the hand
of the powerful in this you will benefit me very much, but
most ot all yourself. I have made known my wish, you know
the affair, the afflicted now await the result to them.
LETTER CCXXVIII. (A.D. 1143.)
To PETER, ABBOT OF CLUNY.
Bernard complains that he did not reply to him. 1
To the Reverend father and lord PETER, by the grace of
God Abbot of the Cluniacs, BERNARD, called Abbot of
Clairvaux, sends his humble greetings.
i. I should wish to think that you are pleased to joke in your
letter ; if such is the fact, and if I ought not to see anything
1 Manrique (Annals A.D. 1135 c - 3) thinks that this Letter was written in the
year 1 135 ; but the order of the Letters seems opposed to his view. And certainly
if it be compared with the next Letter, which is Peter s answer to this, it will be
seen directly that it was written after the disturbances about the election at
Langres, which took place A.D. 1138, as was said above, ep. 164. For Peter
the Venerable answers thus: "When will my sincere love f6Y you be extin
guished, or the warm affection of my heart be drowned by any rivulets of
adverse rumour, since many waters of tithes have had no power to extinguish
it, nor the violence of the stream of Langres to drown it ? " Moreover, in the
last part of the same Letter Peter mentions the translation of the Koran, after
wards dedicated by him to S. Bernard, which was finished A.D. 1143, as the
Cluniac Library testifies, and to this year the Letter seems to belong.
652 LETTER CCXXVIII.
unkind in what you say, then I allow that you are treating me
well and like a friend. Do not wonder at this. For your
sudden and unexpected condescension makes me doubtful
about this. For it is not long ago, when writing to you, I
saluted your Greatness with due reverence, and you answered
me not a word. Not long before that I again wrote to you
from Rome, and not even then did I get a single word in
reply. Do you now wonder that when you lately returned
from Spain I did not presume again to trouble you with my
chatter ? For if it is a fault not to have written for some
cause or other, to have had no mind to write, nay, more, to
have despised writing, you will surely not be altogether
without blame. You see what I might urge with justice
(since you require it of me) ; but I prefer to go and meet
goodwill when returning than to delay its return while I try
needlessly to excuse myself or to accuse another. I have
merely said this so that I might not keep anything in my mind
without giving it utterance, for this true friendship forbids^
For the future, let all suspicion be now removed, for charity
believeth all things (i Cor. xiii. 7). I rejoice that you have
been stirred to a recollection of our former friendship, and
to recall the friend that you had wronged. Now that I am
recalled I gladly return. I am happy to be recalled. Hence
forward I remember no wrongs. 1 Here am I, now as then,.
1 We need not spend much time in investigating the wrongs mentioned here..
For the context of both Letters, this and the following, shows plainly enough that
the words are spoken in a pleasant and rhetorical way. I am aware that there
had been some cause for dispute between the two saints, e.g., the election at
Langres (ep. 164) and the exemption of the Cistercians from paying tithes to
the Cluniacs ; but I can never admit that they deserve the name of injuries. As
far as the tithes are concerned, the fact is this: Innocent, when in Gaul A.D.
i 132, on learning the poverty of the Cistercians, gave them a precept freeing
them from the payment of all tithes. Amongst others the Cluniacs protested
against the exemption. Hence there was ground for the complaint which the
Abbot Peter laid before Innocent first, then before Haimeric in moderate terms,,
and lastly before the heads of the Cistercian houses in general Chapter ; and
when he found that they were somewhat displeased at his action, in the next
year he sent them a Letter of apology, by which brotherly love was repaired and
kept inviolate. The outrage which was afterwards committed against the
Cistercians by the monks of Gigny will be dealt within the notes to ep. 283..
For the rest, it seems desirable to have the Letter of Peter which was theoccasioa
LETTER CCXXVIII. 653
the devoted servant of your Holiness. I give thanks that inc
lines are fallen to me in a pleasant place, inasmuch as I am
again admitted to your intimacy, as you kindly write that
I am. If by any chance I had grown lukewarm, as you
complain, no doubt I should quickly become hot again when
nourished by the warmth of your charity.
2. And now I must say that what you have been pleased to
write I have received with outstretched hands. I have read
it eagerly ; I read it again with pleasure, and the oftener 1
read it the more pleasure it gives me. I must say that I
like your pleasantry. For it is at once agreeable from its
gaiety, and serious from its gravity. I do not know how it
is that you manage to mingle grave and gay in such a way
that your pleasantry does not savour of lightness, and,
while you preserve your dignity, the pleasantness of your
mirth is not lessened. Further, you so preserve your dignity
that the saying of holy Job can be applied to you : If I
laughed on them they believed it not (Job xxix. 24). Well,
you see that I have replied, and I think that now I may
rightly demand more than you promised. It is right that
you should know how things are here. I have determined
not to leave the monastery again except for the annual
meeting of Abbots at Citeaux. Here, supported by your
prayers and good offices, I will wait for the few remaining
days of my warfare, till my change comes. May God be
gracious to me, and not withdraw from me your prayers or
His mercy. I am broken in strength, and I have a valid
excuse for not travelling about as I used to do. I will sit
still and be silent, to see if perchance I may experience
what from the fulness of his sweetness the holy Prophet
says, It is good that a man should both hope and quietly
wait for the salvation of the Lord (Lam. iii. 26). And,
of this being written : it may not be amiss, therefore, to inclnde it in the list of
S. Bernard s, that before all lovers of true Christian friendship, especially before
Religious, there may be placed this most perfect example of the two friends,
Bernard and Peter. Cardinal Baronius has so spoken of Peter as to pronounce
him in " that holiness which worketh by love, no unworthy rival of Bernard." If
further evidence of this is wanted see Peter s own works, lib. i. ep. 28, and lib.
iv. ep. 46.
654 LETTER CCXXIX.
that you may not seem the only one to joke, I suppose that
you will not again venture to chide me for my silence, and,
after your manner, to call that sloth, which I think the
Prophet Isaiah more fittingly and more properly calls the
cultivation of righteousness (Isaiah xxxii. 17), about which
you read in his Prophecy, where he says from the Lord :
In quietness and in confidence shall be your strengt/i
(Isaiah xxx. 15). Commend me to the prayers of your
sacred Convent of Cluny ; salute it first from me, the
servant of all, if you think fit.
LETTER CCXXIX. (A.D. H43.) 1
PETER THE VENERABLE, TO ABBOT BERNARD.
He courteously answers Bernard s letter, and at the
same time explains the causes of the strife between the
Cluniacs and Cistercians.
To him who is to be honoured with special veneration, to
be embraced closely with the arms of entire affection, the
inseparable guest of my heart, my Lord BERNARD, Abbot of
Clairvaux, his brother PETER, humble Abbot of the Cluniacs,
wishes the eternal salvation which he longs for.
i. Since I am found to be long in replying to the sweet
and pleasant letter of my friend, to which I ought to have
sent an answer directly with equal good will, your Holi
ness will perhaps wonder why I have not done so, and will,
I am afraid, put it down to indolence or contempt. But do
not think that it is either, for both are absent ; for I have
hardly ever been so glad to receive anything in the way of
a letter, or so careful in reading it. The cause of my long
silence was partly the bearer of it, who, when he came to
Cluny, and did not find me there, though I was not very far
away, being at Marigny, 2 neither brought it nor sent it on
to me. but left it at Cluny. But I do not wish to accuse the
good man ; I believe that he was hindered from going to
1 This is Ep. 16, B.v of Abbot Peter s own Letters. [E.]
2 Marigny sur Loire was a nunnery on the Loire, founded by S. Hugh,
Abbot of Cluny.
LETTER CCXXIX. 655
me by some business which he had to do, or by the severity
of the winter, which was then upon us. I, too, was kept in
that place for a month, partly by the snow, partly by
business, and returned home with difficulty at the beginning
of Lent. Then at length I received your letter from the
Sub-Prior, to whom it had been given. My heart was
drawn to you immediately ; and though my affection for
you was great before, it was kindled into a flame by the
loving breath that came through your letter, and no room
was then left for coldness or Jukewarmness. I was drawn,
I say, and so drawn to you, that I did what I cannot
recollect that I have before done, except to the Sacred
Books, I kissed affectionately your letter as soon as I had
read it. And then I read again to some of the brethren
what I had before read to myself, and I exhorted them with
all my heart to greater love for you. I would stir up those
whom I can influence, and I wish I could influence all to
imitate your charity ; I always endeavour to do this. Then
I laid it by, and placed it among the gold and silver which,
after the custom handed down to me by my fathers, I am in
the habit of carrying with me to distribute in alms. Nor
was it unfitting. For your favour to me, your charity is
precious to me above all gold and silver.
2. I wished to write to you on the next day all that was in
my mind ; but I was prevented by business which made
other claims on me daily, nay, continuously, and I kept
silence. My hard taskmaster, whom I had no power to
resist, imposed silence on me, and the care of an infinite
number of matters forced me to hold my peace not for one
day, but for many. And so a fortnight passed by, then a
whole month, then several months in succession, during
which I was always making attempts to write but was not
allowed by the said taskmaster. At length I broke the
galling chain, and though with difficulty, I threw aside the
yoke of my burden, and the sceptre of my tyrant, by writ
ing stealthily. And lest I seem to labour too much in
making excuse for my tardiness in replying I must say that
you yourself have forced me to make my excuse when you
656 LETTER CCXXIX.
said, " It is not long since I wrote to you, and saluted your
Crown 1 with fitting veneration, and you answered me not a
word ; and not long before I wrote to you from Rome, and
not even then did I get a syllable. Do you now wonder
that when you lately returned from Spain I did not presume
to trouble you again with my chatter ? But if it is a fault
to have not written for some reason or other, to have been
unwilling to write, not to say to have disdained to write,
you will surely not be altogether without blame."
3. But what shall I say? Simply this: I would never
make any excuse for the fault which you charge me with,
if it had been from contempt that I had not answered
your letter. For I admit that, if you had written first, I
ought to have answered you ; but as far as I can recollect,
while you were at Rome I wrote first and you answered.
It was not then my turn to write in answer, inasmuch I had
been the first to write, but yours. Certainly I might have
written in reply to your answer, but your answer was so
full and completely satisfactory that it freed me from any
necessity to write further. And if this is the state of the
case, the fault that you speak of seems to be deserting me
and looking towards you ; for you have been endeavouring
to lay blame on one that is blameless, and to lay on the
shoulders of an unoffending brother other people s burdens,
not to say your own. But to what you say about my having
done the same thing on another occasion I have no answer,
for I have no recollection of it. If by some chance it did
happen I have no doubt that there was a reasonable cause,
or if not I will make you my humble apologies. But you
went on to say, " You see what I might urge with justice. "
I answer: At present, according to the reasons given above,
justice rather makes for me, because no fault at all is found
in me. Now, if I were not inclined to spare you, and if I
were to apply to myself the name of an injured friend
which you say you can claim, I should have good cause to
exact a penalty for the wrong or injury that you have done
me. But after my custom I spare you, and even though
not asked, I freely forgive you everything. "I keep in
1 "Your Greatness, p. 652.
LETTER CCXXIX. 657
mind," as you said, " no injuries." For this is but a fitting
introduction to what I am going to say : I am about to
endeavour to banish from the hearts of many their well-
known feelings of resentment against each other, and I am
going to do this not in jest, but in sober earnestness ; and
I intend to induce you to banish all such feelings. Let me
be the first to extend forgiveness to everyone, and set the
example of doing what I endeavour to press on others.
4. But perhaps you will say again, " I should wish to
believe that you are pleased to joke? " Yes, I do please ;
but only with you. I do not jest like this with others. For
with some, to pass the limits of dignified gravity is to run
the risk of being thought frivolous ; but I am not afraid of
this from you ; I seek after charity, lest haply I lose her.
And, therefore, it is always pleasant for me to talk with
you, and by friendly w r ords to preserve the sweet honey of
charity. I do my best to prevent myself being in the
number of those brethren w r ho hated Joseph in their hearts,
and could speak no peaceful word to him (Gen. xxxvii. 4).
Would that all your brethren and mine would do so (I do
not speak boastfully), and would not deviate from the line
of charity, by which alone after faith and the Sacrament of
Baptism, they are entitled to the name of brethren, and by
which they are united to each other in a close relationship ;
and that they would fear what the Apostle speaks of when
he says, Peril amongst false brethren (2 Cor. xi. 26).
Would that they would all do this, and would keep their
heart from the deceitful thought, and their tongue from the
bitter word, according to the Psalm which is so often in
their mouth. What I have said seems to make large
promises, and as if it were a preparation for great
achievements. But lest the well-known verse, " \Vhat will
this man, lavish in promises, produce worthy of so pre
tentious an opening ? " (Horace, Ars Poetica v. 138)
be applied to me, I must confess that I not only have
no urgent cause for writing, but not even an important
or moderately good one ; still I am speaking of those
things which worldly men think great and even most
important, and from which the children of this world hope
658 LETTER CCXXIX.
to become great and powerful. Yet my cause is a great
one, and so far surpassing all others, that by the Apostle it
is called more excellent than all. If you ask its name he
calls it charity (i Cor. xii. 31 and xiii.).
5. This is my whole and sole cause of writing; I fully
trust that I have it entirely as far as you are concerned,
and I do not despair of seeing your brethren and mine
preserve it towards each other, better than they have been
wont to do, especially if you give your assistance to effect
this. For as far as that charity goes which for many a year I
have had stored up for you in the secret recesses of my
heart, it seems to me that, as it is written, many waters
cannot quench it, nor the floods drown it (Cant. viii. 7).
This I think has often been proved in different cases. For
when will my sincere love for you be ever quenched, or the
warm affection of my heart be drowned by any rivulets of
evil report, when neither the many waters of the tithe
question could quench it, nor the floods of the troubles at
Langres drown it. You know what I mean, and I only say
this in order that your wisdom may be sure, when it recol
lects the proofs of my constant love for you in the past,
that I am likely to be equally constant in the future. I feel
sure of the same in you, and I trust that no power will ever
banish me from the innermost depths of your heart. But
since each of us is called a pastor; since our folds are filled
with no small number of Christ s sheep ; since to both
the precept applies, Be thou diligent to know well the
countenance of the flock (Prov. xxvii. 23), we have to see
if our flock is known to us, if it is well, if it languishes, if
it is feeble, if it is robust, if it is living or dead. For since
the beloved disciple says, He that loveth not abideth in
death (i S. John iii. 14), why am I anxious about the
weakness of my flock, when I see that it is already dead ?
For if he who loveth not abideth in death, in what death does
he abide who hates? if he who loveth not abideth in death,
in what death is he who is given to detraction ? For what
purpose do I say this ?
6. I see that certain persons, as well from my folds as
LETTER CCXXIX. 659
yours, have engaged in deadly warfare against each other;
and that those who ought to live in the house of the Lord as
friends, have fallen from mutual charity. I see that they
are of the family of the same Lord, soldiers of the same
King, that they bear the same name of Christians, and
are alike called monks. I perceive that they are bound to
till their Master s field, not only by the yoke of a common
faith, but beyond that by the yoke of the same monastic
rule, and this under many different forms of toil. Yet,
though, as I said, they are joined by a common name,
united by the monastic profession, some hidden and
accursed difference separates them, and splits up that
sincere unity of hearts, to which they seem to have been
called. And, O lamentable event ! not to be worthily
atoned for by any founts of tears, the haughty archangel,
who was once cast down from heaven, has again seized
heavenly places, and he, who could not establish his seat in
the north, has strengthened it in the south, 1 that is, in the
more splendid part of the sky. Truly it is so, he may
boast that he has done so, when, after driving out Him who
dwells in the heavens, whose abiding place was made, not
for mutual hatred, but for brotherly concord, he lords it,
after the fashion of a tyrant, over the minds of men whose
profession is heavenly, whose example is conspicuous.
And since the Stronger Man has come and overcome the
strong man who had been long guarding his palace in
peace ; since the prince of this world was cast out ; since
his throne, who is the King of the children of pride,
has been overturned even amongst Christian laymen ;
with what lamentations must we mourn, I pray you, if
Satan, after having the throne of his wickedness over
turned in others, should again erect it in the hearts of
monks? God forbid that he, who is said.. to have been
rendered so helpless by the Saviour as to suffer himself to
be bound by His handmaidens, and to be a laughing stock
to His servants, should mock at His servants and hand
maidens, and bring them once more under vile bondage to
him.
1 See Letter 165, and note (p 500). [R.]
660 LETTER CCXXIX.
7. But why do they oppose each other? why do they
rail at each other ? why are they consumed the one by the
other? Let them bring forward the ground of their strife,
and if they can bring any just cause of complaint against
each other let it be ended by being entrusted to the de
cision of just arbitrators. What do you demand, I ask, my
brother, from your brother? and to comprehend in two words
all who are at variance, What do you demand, O Cluniac
brother, from your Cistercian brother, and vice versa?
If it is cities, camps, farmhouses, farms, if the possession
of any land whether small or great ; if, in short, it is gold,
silver, or any quantity or quality of money that the quarrel
is about, come, I say, bring forward the claim. There are
judges not of iniquity, but of equity ready to put an end at
once to all strifes of this kind. Peace will easily be restored,
and the wounds of charity healed, as soon as we know that
such a separation of hearts has been brought about by
these things or others like them. But I recollect that both
of you have cast off all such things, that you have kept for
yourselves no earthly goods, that, enriched with a blessed
poverty, you have determined to follow the poverty of
Christ. This, then, cannot be the ground of your quarrel.
But I will not give over, I will not weary, I will not rest
until I come to the bottom of the truth that I am in search
of.
8. Perhaps the cause of your strife is the difference in
your customs, in the observance of the monastic rule. But
if this, dearly beloved, is the cause of so great an evil, it
is, let me say it with the permission of both of you, very
unreasonable, very childish and foolish. For does not that
which is destitute of all reason, and whose soundness
every wise man denies, seem to you unreasonable, childish,
and foolish ? For if a difference in customs, if manifold
variety in an infinite number of things ought to rob the
servants of Christ of mutual charity, what peace, or con
cord, or unity, or how much of the law of Christ will be
left, not only to monks, but to any Christians, about which
a great Apostle says, Bear ye one another s burdens, and
LKTTER CCXXIX. 66 1
so fulfil the law of Christ? If, I say, the law of Christ,
that is charity, is to be abandoned by all who follow
different uses, it will simply be found nowhere any more.
For when it shall have been rejected by all who follow a
different custom it will be nowhere to be found. Has not,
dearly beloved, the whole earth long since been filled with
the Churches of Christ ? And since the Churches which
serve God in the same faith and the same charity are
almost numberless, almost as great a variety of uses is
found amongst them as there are churches. You will find
this in the canticles, in the lections, in all the Church
offices, in the different vestments; you will find it, too, in
different fasts which are observed in addition to the
authorized ones which cannot be changed ; you will find it
in all similar things, which according to differences of
times, places, nations, and countries, have been instituted
by the prelates of the Church, to whom, according to the
Apostle, it belongs to give orders in such things as they
may see fit (Rom. xiv. 5). Have all those churches aban
doned charity because they have changed their custom ?
Will they cease to be Christians because they seem to
differ in their uses? Will the great gift of peace be lost
by all because each one works what is good in a way
different from the rest? Not so thought Ambrose,
a Doctor of the Church, in word and in life, who,
speaking of the Saturday fast which he had seen
kept at Rome, and which he had found was not
observed at Milan when he was made Bishop, says :
" When I am at Rome I observe the fast kept by the
Church at Rome; when at Milan I follow the custom of its
Church and do not fast" (Apud Aug. ep. 54). Hence,
also, our father Augustine, in describing the devotion of his
good mother, relates that she, according Jto the custom
which she had seen observed in the African Churches,
wished to offer her oblations at Milan contrary to the
custom of the Churches of Italy, but was forbidden by
Ambrose (S. Aug. Confess, lib. vi. c. 2).
9. But why labour this point? To no purpose is it to.
662 LETTER CCXXIX.
surround what is so evident with manifold testimonies and
examples, especially since neither in ancient times a differ
ence in the time of observing Easter, nor in modern a
well-known variation between Greek and Latin in the way
of offering the Christian sacrifice, had any power to wound
charity, or to produce any breach of unity. The Holy
Fathers are witnesses to this, and their received writings
which they left to the Church, that the East in former
times kept Easter at one time, the West at another,
the Angles in Britain at another, and the Scots
at another. We, too, witness the same thing in our
own time, for we see the Roman Church and the whole
Latin race offer to God the life-giving sacrifice with un
leavened bread ; while the Greek Church and the greatest
part of the East and barbarian nations who are Christians
are said to sacrifice with leavened bread. But in spite of
this neither ancients nor moderns have departed from
mutual charity because of these well-known varieties of
customs, for they found nothing in all this to wound faith
or charity. But why do I say this? In order that, if your
minds, brethren, have been alienated because of the variety
in your uses, if they have grown weak in their love of
peace and unity because of this or that custom handed
down by the founders of the Churches, that by so vener
able examples of such holy Fathers they may become one
again, and after the way of the saints, who out of weakness
were made strong, and became brave in the battle, may
become too strong for any disease by shrinking from all
weakening of charity.
10. But you will say: "Variety of uses must be under
stood in a different sense in the case of different Churches
than in men of the same Order. If the customs of many
Churches vary without any damage to faith or charity, it is
nothing wonderful ; but it is wonderful if men of the same
purpose and profession do not preserve the same kind of
rules." Is this all, dearly beloved, that divides you from
each other? Is this the only blow to charity amongst
yourselves ? Is this the only thing which prevents the
LETTER CCXX1X. 663
children of peace from being at peace with each other?
If even a layman made for peace with those who hated peace
(Ps. cxx. 7), shall monk strive with monk in an accursed
war? The child of the light loves the children of darkness
to prevent the gift of peace being disturbed, and shall the
child of the light light against the child of the light? I
refer this to the purpose, not to the monk. If, indeed, it is
only this that is troubling your minds, if this is the sole
cause of the wound of charity, it will be soon healed, if
only there be no obstinacy. See, then, that love of your
own opinion do not darken the light of your understanding,
for no one deserves to attain to unity who does not seek
her for herself, but rather seeks to have his own way. I
therefore ask you to consider whether the cause of your
disunion is a just one, without any desire to defend your
own side or your own opinions, and when you find it to be
an unjust one I ask you to become once more of one heart
and of one soul. For each of you is fighting under the
same rule, and under that particular rule each hopes to be
able to attain to everlasting salvation. But if neither is to
be disappointed of his hope I know not what place can
now be left for discord, division, or reproaches.
ii. For you said that it is a wonderful thing if men of
the same purpose and profession do not observe the same
kind of rules. My answer is : What does it matter if men
of the same purpose and profession do not observe the same
rules, if by their different observances they alike attain to
the same salvation and everlasting life ? What does it
matter, what is the objection, if they come to the same
Jerusalem which is above, which is the mother of us all, by
a different path, if a different road leads to the same land,
if the same life is attained by manifold ways? For if thou,
O Cluniac, knewest that the Cistercian, or thou, O Cister
cian, knewest that the Cluniac was making" a mistake in
the object that he had put before him, or if, according to
the Scripture, you saw that he was proceeding to his ruin
along a road which seemed to men to be right, you would be
justified, I admit, in correcting or calling back your brother,
664 LETTER CCXXIX.
and even, if he refused to listen to you, in reproaching him
and invoking God against him. Then, indeed, if you were
to reproach him, to withstand him, to hate him, I would
admit that you were judging justly, that you were acting
rightly, especially when I hear a great prophet saying of
such even to God, Do not I hate them, O Lord, that hate
Thee, and am not I grieved with those that rise up against
Thee ? Yea, I hate them right sore, even as though they
were mine enemies (Ps. cxxxix. 21, 22.) I should do more,
I should rejoice that you were not a deaf hearer of the
Scripture, which says : Go, hasten thyself, rouse thy friend,
give not sleep to thine eyes, nor slumber to thine eyelids
(Prov. vi. 3, 4.) And of another : Cursed be he that keepeth
back his sword from blood (Jer. xlviii. 10). Then I would
readily admit that you had just causes for hatred, and I
myself, girt with the sword of zeal, would accompany you
in your outgoings to subdue the enemies of God, and those
who, according to the Apostle, work a lie in hypocrisy (i
Tim. iv. 2). But, as it is, I see that both of you are striving
to rise from earth to heaven under the same rule, under
different but yet holy observances, and so running by
different courses for the same prize in order that you may
obtain it ; and so, it seems to me, you have no cause of
anger, hatred, or reproach left you.
12. But you further ask me to prove what I have said,
and to show how, under the same Rule, or profession of the
same Rule, a monk can safely travel by diverse paths. I
have an answer ready enough for this, and there is not
wanting either authority or reason. Thou, O Cluniac, in
thy way, thou, O Cistercian, in thine, canst alike travel
happily along the road of God s commandments, and still
more happily attain to the due end of thy course. And
because I have already appealed to the authority which in
such things is to be first consulted, in what follows I will
show that reason is not absent, though she follow at a
moderate distance.
13. But what is your objection, my brother? "I say
that those who have professed the same rule do not observe
LETTER CCXXIX. 665
alike the commands of that rule." What you say is true,
that in some chapters the commands of the same Rule are
differently observed by the professed. But do not suppose
that, therefore, monks of this class are to be blamed ; do
not for this dare to accuse them of unfaithfulness. Listen
to a heavenly authority, that of the King of the heavens :
If thine eye be single, thy whole body shall be full of liglit
(S. Luke xi. 34.) Hear, too, the Apostle : Let all your
things be done with charity (i Cor. xvi. 14.) Hear, too,
S. Augustine : " Have charity and do what you will."
Hear, too, him who drew up your rule, or rather the Holy
Spirit who inspired it : " Let the Abbot order and arrange
everything so that souls may be saved ; and whatever the
brethren do, let them do it without murmuring" (Reg. S.
Bened. c. 41.) What can be more clear, more open, more
lucid? Does not the very flow of the words themselves
show that they are altogether without cloud, and show to
mortals the clear light of truth, without any intervening veil
of clouds? Behold, the Heavenly Teacher says that all your
body, my brother, depends for its light on the singleness
of your eye ; that is, that all your works must have purity of
intention. Alter Him, the greatest doctor of the Church
bids all your works to be done in charity ; lo, the greatest
instructor of the Church, after the Apostles, says that you
may do what you will so long as charity remains ; lo, your
father Benedict himself, on whom you rely, orders the
Abbot to direct all things so that souls may be saved, and
that there maybe no murmuring; and are you afraid for
the salvation of those who follow different paths under the
same Rule ? Do you not see that those are safest from
every danger whose precepts find their defence, according
to the Rule itself, against every shade of variety or blame
because of difference, in the intention of saving souls ?
14. But now, that you may see that reason also is entirely
c,n the side of the authorities above given, and clings to
them inseparably, I must mention some points bearing on
the question before us, in which some things are shown to
have been changed because of the single eye, through love
VOL. II. 43
666 LETTER CCXXIX.
unfeigned, and from the intention of saving souls. For
when I have shown these I shall leave nothing, I think, for
you to ask further, so far as this matter goes. For you use
a single eye in not opening the gate of the cloister to a
novice till after a year s probation ; because, according to
the words of the Apostle (i S. John iv. i) and of the Rule
(Reg. S. Ben. c. 58), you test for the space of a year the
spirit of the new-comer, whether it be of God. You use,
too, the single eye when you admit a novice within the year
from the fear that through so long delay he may return to
his mire again, and to the detestable evil of his former life.
You use, too, the single eye when you content yourself
with two tunics, or two cowls, or with the addition of one
or two garments of this sort, because you prefer to follow,
if not the precept (Reg. S. Ben. c. 55), at all events the
mind and intention of the founder of the Rule, than to add
or assume other garments. You use, too, the single eye
when you allow the use of a few skins, because you make
provision for the sickly, the infirm, the delicate, for all who
live in colder climates, so as to prevent their murmuring,
or growing remiss, or having reasonable cause to retire
from their purpose. You use, too, the single eye when you
receive back all fugitives who have not fled three times,
because you wish both to obey the words of the Rule (Reg.
S. Ben. c. 29), and to deter foolish or unstable monks from
repeated desertion, by fixing a limit beyond which there is
no return. You use, too, the single eye when you receive
back a monk who returns after deserting more than three
times, from a fear lest by refusing forgiveness he be exposed
to the enemy and perish, and so the wolf kill the wandering
sheep, just as he is wont to carry off and scatter those within
the fold.
15. You use, too, the single eye when you observe,
without making any exception, all the usual fasts both in
the summer and winter, from your wish to observe the
rules imposed, and to bring forth more fruit from a longer
abstinence. But, and I say it out of pure charity, I do not
altogether recommend that fasts should be observed by
LETTER CCXXIX. 667
everyone during the octaves of Christmas, Epiphany, and
the Purification, which in all respects are Lord s Days.
You use, too, the single eye when you except from tin-
ordinary observance of fasting days the days which I have
just named, and every authorized feast day of twelve
lections, from a desire to imitate the custom of nearly all
Religious who so observe them, and thus you endeavour to
honour the Lord Himself, the Apostles, and other saints.
You use, too, the single eye in engaging in manual labour,
according to the precept of the Rule (Reg. S. Ben. c. 48),
from your wish both to obey the Rule and, by such holy
exercises enjoined by monastic and apostolic commands, to
avoid sloth, the enemy of the soul, as the same Rule says ;
and moreover, as far as you have opportunity, it is your
wish to provide yourself with the necessaries of life, after
the manner of the fathers of old. You use, too, the single
eye in partly giving up this manual labour, for you may be
placed, not in woods or in desert places, but in the midst
of cities and camps, and be surrounded by people, and be
unable, without more or less danger, to go backwards and
forwards so often to your work through a promiscuous
crowd of both sexes, and besides you often have not suit
able places where you can engage in such works. But lest
leisure, the foe of religious, find opportunity to harm you
when you have nothing to do, either you do manual work
when and where you can, or when you cannot, you make
up for it by giving up the extra time to the Divine Offices,
and so the evil spirit can claim for himself no empty corner
in your heart, seeing that you fill up all your time with what
holy pursuits are in your power.
1 6. You use, too, the single eye in reverencing Christ in
every guest who comes or goes, with bowed head or with
body prostrate on the ground, and in washing the feet of
all, and so you do, as is fitting, all that you can to carry
out carefully the good precept of hospitality, enjoined alike
by the Gospel and the decrees of the Rule (Reg. S. Ben.
c. 53), and you strive to win for yourself the reward due to
such a proof of holy brotherly love. You use, too, the
668 LETTER CCXXIX.
single eye in not prostrating yourself before all guests, in
not washing the feet of all, because it would be simply
impossible for you to be always prostrating yourself before
so great crowds of guests as are constantly coming and
going, or to be always washing their feet, so much so that,
even if you wished to be always engaged in such duties and
were to leave out all the other offices of your Order, you
would not have enough time. And because you see it is
out of your power to do it, you omit it. What is necessary
for the reception of guests you give them to the best of
your power, and you show them all the honour in your
power, but you excuse yourself from the above duties,
which it is physically impossible for you to fulfil ; but yet
you do this in all singleness of eye. You use, too, the
single eye in your wish that the Abbot s table should be
always filled with guests and pilgrims, because you at once
obey the Rule (Reg. S. Ben. c. 56) and show yourself
hospitable to guests. You use, too, the single eye when
you determine that the Abbot s table should not be always
with the guests, but that he should have his meals always
with the brethren, and by recalling him to the common
table you thus apply a remedy to the profusion (to use
a mild term) of many an Abbot who, when he has guests,
is generous to himself but heedless of his brethren.
17. You use the single eye when, like Ezra, who restored
the Law, or like the Maccabees, who raised up the temple of
God which was in ruins, you labour to make good the great
losses of the Monastic Order, and to repair the many rents
in many monasteries and in their customs, and, while
rejecting what is more of luxury than of necessity, you
endeavour, after the manner of the old and original fervour,
to banish the lukewarmness of our times. And you use
the single eye when you so modify the commands both of
the Order and of the Rule, that, according to the words of
the same Rule (Reg. S. Ben. c. 64), what the strong want
is not distasteful to the weak, as, e.g., when he who cannot
live on bread is allowed to have at least milk, so as to pre
serve life, and when he who has not breath enough to
LETTER CCXXIX. 669
obtain the prize set before him by running at great speed,
is taught to win it at least by the slower walking pace,
because he who returns to his country after a year is called
as much an inhabitant of it as he who returns after a month.
And I say this without meaning to prejudice the different
kinds of toil of the wayfarers, because, according to the
Apostle, Every man shall receive his own reward according
to his own labour (i Cor. iii. 8). You have S. Benedict
himself as your authority in this, although, as he himself
says, you are not bound to follow his written precepts when
charity bids otherwise. Still you find pleasure in showing
your devotion to so great a man by following his directions
merely because they are his. You have him, too, as the
authority for your bye-laws, inasmuch as he directs all his
precepts to be carried out according to the rule of charity,
and to be made subservient in some way or other to the
salvation of souls. You have S. Maur also, his principal
disciple, who was sent by him into Gaul, and is said to
have altered many points in his rule, following the single
eye of which I have said so much. You have, besides, very
many fathers of monasteries after him, whose holy life and
numerous miracles worked by them through the power of
God show more clearly than daylight that they have been
moved by the Spirit of God to modify the written words of
the above-named Rule to suit times, places, and persons.
1 8. And what can I say more? If you go in a similar
way through all the points on which there seems to be
difference, you will find everywhere the single eye, which
one will call charity, another the desire of saving souls ;
and you will see that in this way there is no difference, no
discord, because all those points which seem to be differently
treated become one through charity. To this I add what is
yet evident to all, that there is no precept about such
matters in the Rule, which has not conditions attached, and
which is not left to the discretion of the Abbot. But even
if it had been given imperatively, it could not in any way
prejudice the single eye, i.e., evangelical charity. For such
precepts, as you know, belong to the class of things change-
670 LETTER CCXXIX.
able, and when charity bids, they are to be changed with
out any fear of transgressing. Nor in this respect ought
those who profess the rule to be suspected of unfaithful
ness to it ; because this rule of the holy father depends on
that sublime and general rule, from which and on which,
according to the words of the Truth, hang all the Law and
the Prophets (S. Matt. xxii. 40). But if the whole Law so
hangs, then so does the monastic Rule. Therefore, a monk
professing the rule of S. Benedict keeps it aright when he
everywhere observes the law of charity, whether in obey
ing or in changing any of its articles.
19. Well, then, if this was the sole cause of your strife,
brethren, does it not seem to you entirely excluded ? Ought
not the hearts of monks to be united again in brotherly
concord when a single-eyed charity harmonizes all those
differences which caused your discord? Does it not make
many to be one, since it brings to their promised end, viz.,
their chief good, which is everlasting life, all who follow
what good is under the one purpose of the Monastic Order,,
or of the same Rule, even though it be by different paths.
Let there be then, O Jerusalem, peace in thy strength,
that there may also follow abundance in thy towers. But
lest, perchance, I be found of the number of those who
say, Peace , peace } when there is no peace (Jer. vi. 14),
let us see if there is still remaining any cause for quar
relling, lest a snake dart suddenly from its hiding place
while we are asleep and off our guard, and sting some one
of our brethren or yours while we are resting too carelessly.
20. For perhaps the different colours of your habits
furnish an incentive to discord, and a manifold variety of
garments produces a like difference in your minds. For,
as I see too clearly, and as anyone can easily perceive,
a black monk looks askance at a white monk when he
happens to meet one ; and a white monk cannot look a
black one straight in the face. I have seen very many
black monks, I w r ill not say how often, who, when a white
monk meets them, laugh at him as if he were a chimaera or
a centaur, or some monster from a foreign country, and
LETTER CCXXIX. 671
signify their amazement in words or by some gesture of
the body. On tin- other hand, I have seen white monks,
who before, had been talking loudly, and discussing with
each other current events, suddenly become dumb on the
advent of some black monk, and lay on themselves the
necessity of silence, lest they should disclose their secrets
to their enemies. I have seen, too, the tongues of both
orders silent, but their eyes, hands, and feet eloquent, and
I have seen them proclaiming very clearly by their gestures
what they were unwilling to make known by words. I
have seen the voice silent, the members talkative, and, by
a perversion of the order of nature, men, who were taciturn
before their fellow men, communicative to stones. On seeing
such things I have often been reminded of the words of
Solomon, who says of such men : He winketh with his eyes,
he striketh with his feet, he teacheth with his fingers ;
frowardness is in /iis lie art, he devisetli mischief con
tinually, he soweth discord (Prov. vi. 13, 14). O wicked
and stubborn device of the evil angel cast out by God !
who, unwilling to lose eternal peace alone, gathers to him
from wheresoever he can companions of his fall, and, that
he may rejoice in a more glorious triumph, he endeavours
by the violence of his wickedness to uproot the cedars and
firs of the Paradise of God, where he once lived a happy
citizen. He is grieved that the crown of heresies has fallen
from his head, under which he was wont in early times to
divide the Church of God ; and seeing no way left to him to
damage the faith, now that the Holy Spirit fills the whole
earth with belief in it, he turns all his efforts to inflict a
wound on mutual charity. For since he cannot now per
suade Christians to become infidels, he tries with all his
might to prevent them from loving each other. The
sect of Arius, of Sabellius, of Novatian, of Donatus, of
Pelagius, of the accursed Manes, older than them all,
has now perished. Now the clouds of innumerable heresies
which darkened the light of the faith have disappeared
under the breath of the Spirit of God, and, every mist
having been dispersed, have left us the clear light of day.
672 LETTER CCXXIX.
But a hurricane from the south has succeeded these, and is
suddenly endeavouring to throw everything into confusion ;
and, because the enemy knows that the faith has prevailed,
he is trying to make good his earlier losses by injuring
charity.
21. But, putting aside lamentation, I will bring back my
pen to the matters that I began on. Why, O white monk,
does the black colour of your brother s habit, not of his
soul, seem hateful to you ? Why, O black monk, does the
white colour of your brother s habit, not of his soul, seem
marvellous to you ? Are not you both sheep of the Shep
herd who says, My sheep hear My voice, and I know them
and they follow Me ; and I give unto them eternal life,
and they shall never perish, neither shall any man pluck
them out of My hand (S. John x. 27, 28) ? And what shep
herd, to say nothing of God, but what man ever quarrelled
about the different colours of his sheep s wool ? Who
ever thought about it ? Who ever thought that the black
were more his sheep than the white, or the white than the
black ? Who ever cares whether they are black or white,
so long as they are of the same flock ? But see the wicked
ness of men, the innocence of the sheep. See the con
stancy of the brute creation to the nature first given them.
See the perversity of nature in the rational creature ? Did
ever any white ram scorn a black one ? Did ever any
black ewe loathe a white one ? Do they not fill the shep
herd s folds in common, peacefully, without any disturbance,
without any quarrel about the difference of their colour,
without giving him any anxiety ? Sometimes, indeed, one
ram butts another with his horns, one ewe will thrust at
another, but it is not any difference of colour that provokes
them to right, but the kindling of the hasty resentment
which is natural to all animals. But now I see that man,
being in honour, hath no understanding, but is more foolish
than the beast ; and, what is more pitiful still, a monk cuts
himself off from the unity of charity because of some varia
tion of colour. Do not, my brother, do not, if you wish to be
a sheep of Christ, quarrel about a difference of clothing, for
LETTER CCXX1X. 673
the Good Shepherd casts out of His fold none except him
whom, not difference of colour, but a rupture of faith or
charity separates from the flock of His sheep. He does
not, I say, cut oft anyone from His flock because of his
colour. From widely-separated countries, from diverse
religions, He has gathered together Jew and Gentile alike
in the one fold of the Christian faith.
22. This, perhaps, has been taught you by the patience
of the holy patriarch Jacob, who, without repining, allowed
Laban to change his wages ten times. He has shown us
how to make no difference between black and white or
different kinds of cattle by showing the good disposition and
care which a good shepherd shows for all parts of his many-
coloured flock (Gen. xxx.). And the Apostle says, In
Christ Jesus neither circumcision availeth anything, nor
zincircumcision, but a new creature (Gal. vi. 15). And in
another place, Where there is neither Jew nor Gentile,
circumcision noruncircumcision, barbarian, Scythian, bond
nor free, but Christ is all and in all (Col. iii. n). Who,
then, can have so childish a mind as to think that it matters
anything to salvation what the colour of different dresses is,
or what diversity of customs there may be, as long as there
is a new creature in Christ ? But if it matters nothing to
salvation, why does a difference of habit divide monks ?
Why does it breed schisms? Why separate their hearts ?
Why wound charity ? There is no cause or reason for
taking notice of it, much less for dividing, and still less
for complaining of such things. You have, O white monk,
a powerful defender enough of your habit in the single eye
of your conscience. It has caused you to don a white cowl
and tunic, to prevent the black monk supposing, through
a long-existing custom, that no one can be a monk who is
not dressed in black. Moreover, you have ^noticed, too,
that an innumerable number of monks of this Order have
become lukewarm, and, therefore, with praiseworthy inten
tion you have endeavoured to stir them up to a fresh and
greater fervour of monastic life by adopting an unusual
colour for your habit. You too, [O black monk], in the
same way have good authority for the black colour of your
674 LETTER CCXXIX.
habit in the long-standing custom handed down by your
fathers. You feel yourselves more safe in following the
old than in introducing what is new. Both of you can
appeal to the words of the Rule (Reg. S. Ben. c. 55) as an
unimpeachable authority for both colours. It enjoins
monks not to quarrel about the colour or the thickness of
their habits, but to use garments of that colour and quality
which are most easily obtainable in the country where they
are living. Let, then, the reason I have given be sufficient
defence for your white garments, or perhaps some still
stronger reason than I have found. Let, on the other hand,
the authority of your fathers be the defender of your black
habit. That authority is of equal force with any reason,
and should not be reckoned as inferior by anyone who
thinks aright.
O
23. And what farther shall I be able to adduce as setting
an example in this matter ? Can I bring anyone greater
than S. Martin ? The great Martin, monk and bishop,
chose black as the colour of his garments, as we read in his
life. " And when the beasts close to his side saw him
enveloped in a black and flowing cloak, they retired terror-
stricken to another place." That he was a monk is shown
by his founding a monastery not far from Poictiers, another
at Milan, and another for himself at Tours. You see that
Martin was a monk, and that he wore black. But what
does S. Jerome say about this in the letter that he
wrote to Nepotian ? He says, " Avoid alike black
and white garments." This was meant to warn him to
beware of pride and ostentation, not only in white
garments, which men of the world then wore, but also
in black, which professors of religion at that time were
accustomed to use. About this, too, Paulinus, the famous
Bishop of Nola, contemporary and intimate friend of
the same Martin before mentioned, of Ambrose, Augus
tine, Jerome, and often named with praise by them and by
Pope Gregory, in describing the journey of a noble lady
who had lately been converted to the monastic life, speaks
as follows in a letter addressed to Sulpicius Severus :
LETTER CCXXIX. 675
" We saw the glory of the Lord in that journey of the
mother and her sons; the same journey, indeed, but of very
different degree of luxury. We saw her sitting upon a miser
able hackney, beside which an ass would be thought valuable,
with senators all around her, and following her, with all the
pomp of this world that men of position and wealth could
display, with horses in rich trappings, nodding plumes,
gilded cars, and with many chariots filling and making
resplendent the Appian Way. But the grace of Christian
humility outshone these empty splendours. The rich were
rilled with wonder at our holy poverty, but our poverty
laughed them to scorn. We saw the confusion worthy of
the deity of this world, its purple, its silk, and golden
furniture doing obeisance to worn-out and black garments.
\Y r e blessed the Lord, Who exalteth the humble, filleth
the hungry with good things, and sendeth the rich empty
away/ You see from this that not only in old times
did men, but also women, in taking upon them the religious
life wear black garments.
24. For if I may say what I think, it seems to me that
those great fathers thought that black was more suitable to
humility, repentance, and mourning, and since the whole
monastic life ought especially to be given up to these things,
they determined that the outward and inward should be
united as closely as possible, the colour to the character,
the dress to the virtues, for white garments have from of old
represented glory rather than shame, joy more than sorrow.
And this was shown more clearly to the Church, as is well
known to all, by the Angel of the Resurrection, and by the
Angels who acted as heralds of the ascending Lord, and by
the Saviour Himself in the glory of His Transfiguration,
when He showed Himself bright in white garments. Thence
it was that that good and learned man Sidonius, Bishop of
Clermont Ferrand, when ridiculing in bitter condemnation
the faults of certain men, said, " They go in white to
funerals, in black to weddings," declaring them to be so
confused in their ideas as to pervert the usual order of
things, and to go in wedding garb to funerals, and in funeral
676 LETTER CCXXIX.
to weddings. For those who observed the common custom
of that age did not go in white to funerals, in black to
weddings, but in white to weddings, in black to funerals,
that white garments might agree with nuptial joy, black
with funeral grief. When I was lately in Spain I saw and
wondered at this old custom being still observed by all the
Spaniards. For when a wife, husband, children, parent,
any relation, or a friend dies, then the husband, wife,
parents, children, relations, or friends at once lay aside
their arms, their silk garments, their furs, their many-
colcured and costly dresses, and wear nothing but sordid
and black clothes. They also cut off their own hair and
the tails of their horses, and stain themselves and their
animals with black. With such marks of mourning and
grief they bewail the dead that they have lost, and spend a
year, at least, by the rule of society, in such public mourn
ing.
25. By such authority and reason as this I defend you
and your colour, black monk, but still I do not condemn the
white monk for his colour. I praise you for not wishing to
depart from the holy custom of your fathers ; I praise him,
too, for stirring up by this uncommon colour in dress his
mind to more and more fervour of devotion. He to some
degree separates himself, not from charity, which would be
impious, but from the well-known lukewarmness of many of
this Order. Since, then, you are under one Shepherd,
Jesus Christ, since you dwell in one sheepfold of the Church,
since you live by the same faith and hope in eternity, you,
white monk, as well as you, black monk, why, to speak a
little more severely, O foolish sheep, do you quarrel about
the difference in your wool ? Why do you proceed against
each other for no reason, or for so foolish a one ? Why
for so childish a thing do you rend that first robe of charity ?
Why do you separate between your very dwellings ? W^hy
do you devour one another with the teeth of wolves rather
than of sheep ? Why do you rob each other and tear each
other ? See, take care, that this name of innocence by
which you get your name of sheep do not prevent you from
LETTKR CCXXIX. 677
being of those whom the great Shepherd will place on His
right hand, and of whom He says Himself, My sheep hear
My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me, and I give
unto them eternal life, and they shall never perish (S. John
x. 27, 28). But beware, lest it place you amongst those of
whom it is said and sung, Like sheep they are laid in the
grave ; death shall feed on them (Ps. xlix. 14). Do you
now see how foolish it is to dispute about a colour? How
damnable to hate a brother for a colour? How wicked to
calumniate a brother for a colour? If this were the sole
cause of your discord, if this the sole ground for such a
division, if, I say, this was the whole and sole cause
of the monastic schism, now that its folly has been
shown, shall not this old severance of hearts be repaired ?
shall not the wounds of love be healed ? shall not
evangelic peace return to the children of peace? Make
agreement with peace, therefore, ye sons of peace, and
enter into a perpetual covenant with her; if not, perchance
at some time there may be directed against you that saying
of the Prophet, There is no peace, saith my God, to the
wicked (Isa. xlviii. 22). And now, thanks to God, I think
that I have penetrated into the ancient causes and lurking-
places of the hatreds of some men of our Order, and I do
not suppose that I need now seek any farther for any
remaining cause. And if I am right, you, O white monk,
will no longer attack the black, nor you, black monk, the
white, if you wish to obey the precepts of your Order, nor
will you be moved from the state of a most exalted charity,
in hostility to your brother, because of some difference in
your customs or some variation in the colour of your habit.
26. But what have I said ? How have I lost myself ?
Where is my understanding? How has the keenness of
my sight become clouded over ? I thought that I had found
the whole ground of offence. I supposed "that I had dis
closed all the lurking-places of hatred. I was under the
impression, as I said, that diversity of customs alone, that
only variety of colours, the quality or quantity of clothes or
of food had wounded charity among monks, and that this
6j8 LETTER CCXXIX.
alone was the cause of so great an evil. I saw the mote in
my brother s eye, but I could not see the huge beam, a
very oak, in my own eye. But now my eye has been
purged, the sky is clear, and the sun in the meridian suffers
nothing to lie hid, and I see what it is given me to say, with
the leave of everyone, at all events of every good man. For
whoever shall feel aggrieved will thereby confess that it has
been said of him, as Jerome says. The sound part of the
body does not shrink from the physician s hand, but that
which quivers and withdraws itself from the ringer that
would touch it shows, without doubt, that disease is lurking
within. What is it, then, that had escaped me ?
27. Come, tell me (I will first address the man of my own
Order), tell me, black monk; give glory to God, and lay
bare whatever lies hid in the depths of your heart against
your brother. Who, you say, can endure to have new men
preferred to old, to have their intentions set before our
actions, to have them regarded as more dear, our brethren
as inferior ? Who can see unmoved the world for the most
part turn away from our older Order, and run after this
new foundation, and look upon the w r ell-trodden paths now
abandoned, and crowds hurrying on the paths which till
now were unknown ? Who can bear to see the new pre
ferred to the old, the younger to the older, white monks to
black ? This, black monk, is what you say. But you,
white monk, what do you put forward ? W r e, you say, are
happy, because we are recommended by a system far more
approved, because the world declares that we are more
blessed than other monks, because our fame overshadows the
reputation of others, our daylight their lantern, our sun their
star. We are they who have restored religion which was
lost, the Order which was dead ; we are most justly they who
condemn all half-hearted, lukewarm, and worldly monks ;
we prove the fresh fervour of our members to excel all
others by our characters, our actions, our customs, our
habit, all of which are different to others ; and we have
exposed to the world the tepidity of the older Orders.
.Now now, we have the real secret cause, one far more
LETTER CCXXIX. 679
hostile to charity than the rest, which has destroyed tin;
unity of your hearts, separated your houses from each
other, and often, as the Prophet says, sharpened your
tongues like a sword (Ps. cxl. 3) to calumnious or cursing
words.
28. But let this deadly sword be met by the sword of the
Divine Word, and if you are wise you will do ill that you
can to prevent the fruits that have been stored up with so
much labour from being scattered by an empty breath of
vain glory. O, loss accursed, and never to be lamented
enough ! If one hiss of the wicked serpent is to undo the
pure continence of your long life, your unconquerable
obedience, your unbroken fasts, your constant vigils, your
heavy yoke of discipline, so many palms won by your
patience, and, to sum up all, your great and numerous
toils, both of the earthly and the heavenly life, stored up
for so long against your reward in eternity, performed
through the grace of God in you ; if he is to empty you of
everything at one breath, if the old dragon is to cause you
to go empty before the sight of the Great Judge, then
where is that which the Saviour said to his disciples when
labouring under this disease, / saw Satan as lightning fall
from heaven? (S. Luke x. 18). Where is that which he
said in another place when a contention like this rose
among them which of them should be the greater, But ye
shall not be so ; but he that is greatest among you let him
be as the younger, and he that is chief as lie that doth
serve? (S. Luke xxii. 26). Where does that verse lie
hidden from the eyes of our memory which the High and
Lofty One, of whose greatness, the Psalmist says, there is
no end (Ps. cxlv. 3), and Who, according to the Apostle, is
above all, God blessed for ever (Rom. ix. 5), and Who, not
preferring Himself to, or even equalizing Himself with, but
submitting Himself to His servants, uttered, When He said,
But I am among you as lie that serveth ? (S. Luke xxii.
27). The Apostle is rebuked for putting himself before
his brother Apostle, and shall not the monk for preferring
himself to his brother monk ? Christ, the Master, puts the
680 LETTER CCXXIX.
greater under the lesser disciple, the superior under the
inferior, and shall I, a Cluniac, endeavour to elevate myself
above the Cistercian? Christ submits Himself to His dis
ciples, and shall a Christian and a monk raise his neck,
swollen with pride, above his brother, who is, perhaps, far
better than he? Is majesty to abase itself, and infirmity to
exalt itself? Is loftiness to humble itself, and the worm to
be raised aloft ? Is God to serve, and earth try to rule ?
And, my brother, how have you fallen from the height of
your Rule, from whence you used to boast that you stooped !
It bids " that the monk not only say in w r ord that he is
lower and viler than all, but that he believe it also inwardly
in his heart " (Reg. S. Ben. c. 7). But why labour further?
There is no need to say more to pious, wise, and learned
men, and, as the proverb goes, to teach Minerva, or to
bring trees to the wood, water to the rivers or the sea.
The wisdom of you both sees and knows that it is impossible
to please God without faith, and also without charity, and
that no one, if he throw away humility, can by any efforts
keep that charity. For pride of necessity steps into any
place vacated by humility ; where pride comes there imme
diately comes envy; where envy arises charity at once dies.
For the envious man cannot love him whom he envies, nor
can charity in any way remain in one \vho does not love.
29. Therefore, where there is no charity there is no
humility, and where there is no humility there is no charity.
This the Apostle declares most plainly when he says,
Charity envieth not, vaunteth not -itself, is not puffed up.
And because she is not greedy of other s goods he goes on
to say : Seeketh not her own (i Cor. xiii. 45). Therefore,
charity excludes all vain-glory, all ambition, all greediness,
all avarice, nay, by charity, according to the Apostle, all
iniquity is at once driven out. Now, if you wish to pre
serve this charity, which the Apostle says is the same as the
law of Christ (Gal. vi. 2), my brother of Cluny, my brother
of Citeaux, if you wish to lay up for yourself by it great
treasures in heaven, and to keep them when you have laid
them up, do your utmost to drive from you all the causes,
LKTTKR CCXXIX. 68 1
not only of the departure of charity, not only of her des
truction, but even of any injury, no matter how small. If
they wish to return after you have driven them out, close
the door of your heart against them, and hold fast charity
and keep her as an ever present guest. Charity, if she be
firmly held, will lift you to the Kingdom in the heavens, for
by her sweetly irresistible force she brought down to earth
the King of Heaven. The Apostle is a faithful witness of
this when he says that because of His great love God sent
His Son in the likeness of sinful flesh (Rom. viii. 3). You
will rejoice evermore in charity before God, and your joy,
as He Himself has promised, no one shall take from you,
when God shall be all in all, when your long thirst shall be
satisfied, when His glory shall be made manifest; when He
shall appear and you will be like Him, and being united to
Him for ever by this charity, you will see Him as He is.
30. Now at length let my pen come back to you, my
dearest friend, to whom I send this letter. It began with
you, and with you let it at last end. I call to witness my
conscience that, as I said before, the sole cause of my
writing is charity. My endeavour has been to fan it into a
flame by the breath of our conference, and to force it to
burst out into its wonted flames, if not into greater ones.
It now remains for you, whom Divine Providence has given
us to be the milk-white and strong column on which the
edifice of the Monastic Order is supported, and to be, as it
were a bright star, not only to the monks, but also to the
whole Latin Church of our day, it now remains for you to
throw your whole strength into this Divine work, and to pre
vent such great companies of one Name and one Order from
quarrelling any further. I have always been zealous to
commend to my brethren the holy monks of your congre
gation, and I would, if I could, unite them to each other in
the bond of a perfect charity. I have never neglected to do
this in public, in private, and in the great assemblies of our
Order; and I have laboured to rub off the rust of passion
and of quarrelsome zeal which is wont secretly to gnaw at
our vitals.
VOL. II. 44
682 LETTER CCXXIX.
31. Do you, too, labour hard, in proportion to the grace
given you by God, in our common field ; for no one since
you in our time, it has been shown, has planted so usefully ;
and so with praiseworthy zeal and industry everything that
is opposed to what is useful will be rooted up. Banish
from their hearts by that eloquence which is from above,
and which is set on fire by the Spirit of God, that childish
rivalry, that back-biting, and instead of them, whether the
brethren like it or not, sow the seeds of brotherly love. Let
no diversity of custom, no difference of colours, any longer
divide your flocks from ours; but let universal charity unite
what is derived from the Divine Unity, repair what is
decayed, join again what has been sundered, give life to
what has been cut off. So is it fitting that there should be
one heart and one soul (Acts iv. 32) in those who have one
Lord, one Faith, one Baptism, who are contained in one
Church, and who look for the same everlasting life of bliss.
I have sent a morsel of crystallized salt to my friend who
has no need of jewels, but to whom, as I have heard, its
material use was once advantageous, and I thought that a
special understanding of it was necessary as an introduction
to what I have said above. For whatever the number and
the value of the array of virtues on the table of the Eternal
King, if they lack the salt of brotherly love they will be
rejected as tasteless. But if they are seasoned with this
salt the dainties are now acceptable, and will be received
with them that offer them. For He Who in His law accepts
no sacrifice without salt, shows that He is pleased with no
gift of virtue which lacks this condiment.
LETTER CCXXX.
TO THE BISHOPS OF OSTIA, TUSCULUM, AND PR/ENESTE.
Bernard warns them to do their duty in driving the wolves
from the flock in the Diocese of Metz^
God has raised you to an exalted position, in order that
the more eminent the dignity you possess, the more you
1 See Letter 178.
LETTER CCXXXI. 683
may use it for the good of His Church. Otherwise the great
Father will put down from their seat the mighty whose
usefulness has not been equal to the power that they have
received. I do not think that you can be ignorant of how
great loss the Spouse of Christ is suffering in the Diocese
of Metz, though we here are the more horrified because we
are nearer. See how great a wolf is daily endeavouring,
not only by craft, but also by open assaults, to break
through into the fold of Christ, and to scatter the sheep
which have been brought together by the blood of Christ.
And it is not of yesterday or the day before yesterday, but
ever since the time that he was a little wolf he has not
ceased with all his might to assail and to harass that flock
of the Lord with robberies, fires, and murders. Therefore
I, so far as in me lies, point out the wolf, urge on the dogs.
What your duty is you will see. It is not my place to
teach my teachers.
LETTER CCXXXI.
To THE SAME THREE BISHOPS ON BEHALF OF THE
ABBOT OF LAGNY. 1
He asserts the innocence of this Abbot.
i. I dare to say to you whatever comes uppermost. For if
it behoved you to bear a little with my folly, your good-will
will, no doubt, bear with my manner, for you are debtor
both to the wise and to the foolish. And I say this not
.because I am thinking of thoughtlessly saying a word not
pertinent to the matter, or of using levity, or taking pleasure
in trifles, especially before you, who are seen to be pillars
of the Church ; but out of the abundance of the heart the
* Lagny was a place in the Diocese cf Paris, standing on the Marne,
where was a monastery founded by S. Fursey, with the help of Erchinoald,
and restored by Heribert II., Count of Champagne. The Charter of King
Robert is still extant in lib. vi. tie re dipt., n. 151. The Church of Lagny is
described in the Letters of the general chapter of the Benedictine monks as
" renowned and famous, formerly rich in holiness and piety."
684 LETTER CCXXXI.
mouth speaketh, and, when grief is urgent within, truth is.
impatient of repression, and bursts out into speech. For
my feet, I tell you, had almost gone, my treadings had well-
nigh slipped, because by what appears an accursed inversion
of things wickedness so often overcomes wisdom. The
ungodly are lifting their horn higher, the zeal of righteous
ness is being disarmed, and there is no one who will or can
do good. The proud do wickedly on every side, and no
one dares whisper against them. And I would that
innocence were safe, and that righteousness were enough
for its own defence. What sin has the Abbot of Lagny
committed ? x Is it that he is both good as a monk, and
better as an abbot that he is of good report and of better
life ? Or is it that he has adorned by his pity, and enriched
with worldly goods, and increased in numbers of good
brothers, the monastery over which he presides ? Behold,
this crime is laid to his charge. If it is a crime to have
been approved by God and men, let him be lifted up and
crucified. For heaven and earth are witnesses that it
cannot be denied that he has been. If it is a crime to be
hospitable, kind, sober, chaste, humble, let him deservedly
come empty out of the hands of his enemies. For he is
really all these, and in these he cannot be accused ; the
sanctity of his life and the glory of his renown prove him
to be these.
2. But it is alleged against him that he refused to receive
the messenger of my lord. That would certainly be a grave
offence if it were so. The Abbot does not deny that the man
who was sent into England, after being honourably enter
tained by him, asked to speak with him, but Humbert, the
i In the Charter of S. Martin des Champs we find Geoffrey given as Abbot of
Lagny, A.D. 1122, in succession to Arnulf, who died A.D. 1106. In A.D. 1124
Ralph became Abbot of Lagny. For this see Hermann, a monk of Laon,
lib. iii. De Mirac. B.V.M. c. 18, where he says that Theobald, Count of
Champagne, by the advice of dom Norbert, placed a monk named Ralph, of the
monastery of S. Nicholas, in the forest of Vosges, as Abbot over the wealthy
Abbey of Lagny. He died A.D. 1148, and was succeeded by Godfrey. The
Geoffrey mentioned in the Charter of S. Maitin des Champs died A.D. 1 162. We
have two Letters of the general chapter of Black Monks against him, one to
Adrian III., the other to Alexander III.
LETTER CCXXXI. 685
Provost, interposed, since the Abbot was getting ready to go
out, and said that he, in the Abbot s place, would see the man.
I leave you to determine if any want of respect was shown
to the man, and whose fault it was. He is also accused of
having taken a letter of my lord the Pope from Humbert
by force and of having opened it; but the letter exists, still
unopened and sealed; he did not lay hands on it, but
Humbert, by the advice of Count Theobald 1 and myself,
handed it to him of his own accord. The charge, there
fore, is false. He is said also to have imprisoned some
monks. That, too, is false. But if he did divide into
different cells some who were mutinous and conspirators,
lest they should do more harm by being thrown together,
who that can judge rightly can possibly blame this ? Then
as to the charge that he has squandered and alienated the
lands and goods of the Church and given them to his rela
tions, sufficient reply was given before in the presence of
the venerable Bishops of Soissons and Auxerre, and of
Count Theobald, who acted as advocate of the monastery;
and I give it again, that he gave to his own as to others, i.e.,
according to the same scale and custom.
3. Moreover, since the beginning of the world, it was
never heard that a mutinous, haughty, and ambitious monk
merited from the apostolic See the privilege of his liberty.
From the time of Judas Iscariot none has been found like
him, to rise in this way against his master, and betray
innocent blood. Happy is the master to whom the words
of the prophet are common with the Master of all, Mine
own familiar friend in whom I trusted, who did also eat
of my bread, hat/i laid great wait for me (Ps. xli. 9).
Before, indeed, you were lording it over the clergy against
Peter the Apostle (i S. Pet. v. 3), nay, against his co-
apostle Paul, you were lording it over the faith of the whole
earth (2 Cor. i. 23). But now you have added" a new sin in
1 Theobald the Great, Count of Champagne, advocate of Lagny, was buried
at Lagny, and at his tomb his son, Count Henry, set up a [perpetual] light.
Henry lived there some time, as appears from Suger s epp. No. 120. For
Theobald see notes to ep. 3 7.
686 LETTER CCXXXII.
taking upon you too much against religion itself. What
remains but that you should proceed to lord it over the holy
angels themselves? Except that in this, the last Judas
seems to have surpassed the first in craftiness and cunning,
inasmuch as while all his fellow-disciples shuddered at the
infamous deed of the one, the other has had the craft to
entrap, not any undistinguished person, but the very leaders
of the Apostles, to connive at, nay, even to favour his
wickedness. I do not impute sin to my lord, from whom,
being but man, [a decision] could be snatched by fraud,
and I pray that God will not impute it. But God forbid that,
when he knows the truth, the accursed and sacrilegious
attempts of this evil man should prevail. And I would
have written about this to my lord himself (Innocent) with
my usual venturesomeness, if I had not perceived that he
receives with less than his wonted favour whatever I write
to him. 1 Do you, I beseech you, who are monks, 2 mourn
the fortune of your master of S. Benedict, who, as you see,
is in danger of being opposed on all sides ; so will all the
vigour of monastic discipline perish, if monks are to use the
strong hand, and to lift up their horns against their abbots.
LETTER CCXXXII.
To THE SAME BISHOPS.
Against the Abbot of S. Theofred.
If those things which you hear about the Abbot of S.
Theofred 3 are true, you cannot pass them over without
danger to yourselves, both because of your office and your
conscience. Conscience, I say, not only your own, but also
of others. The things are likely, I believe them also to be
true. For the bearer of this who also bears his testimony
about these matters is trustworthy. You ask how I know
all this? I hold a bundle of letters sent by holy men,
1 See ep. 218.
- Viz., Alberic of Ostia, and Vmarus of Tusculum were Cluniacs ; Stephen of
Praeneste a Cistercian.
a A Benedictine, in the Diocese of Pau.
LETTER CCXXXIIL 687
whom I know to be both holy and truthful, and they all
alike contain as loud-tongued praises of the bearer as they
do dreadful accusations of the abbot.
LETTER CCXXXIIL
To JOHN, ABBOT OF BU/AY, WHO HAD LEFT HIS ABBEY 1
AND BETAKEN HIMSELF TO SOLITUDE.
Bernard kindly recalls him from his retirement.
To his beloved son JOHN, Brother BERNARD entreats
that he walk in the Spirit, and not lay aside fear of the
Lord.
i. I cannot say with what bitterness of soul, and sorrow
of heart I write to you, dear John, now that I see that I
gain nothing by all that I have written, and that my words
have no effect upon you. I have written once and again, if
I mistake not; and because of my sins my labour has
brought me no answer. Now a third time I sow my seed,
with prayer to Almighty God, that it may not return to me
empty, but may prosper, do that for which I send it forth,
and rejoice me at some time or other with the fruit of your
obedience and salvation. If you listen to me, nay, rather,
if God listen to me, I shall have gained my son. If not
1 will turn me again to my wonted arms, viz., prayers
and tears, not against you, but for you. I have mourned,
I still mourn, and draw deep sighs from the bottom of my
heart for my offspring. Who will grant to me that you
as my brother shall again suck the breasts of my mother?
Who will recall you for me into that quietness of mind,
that community of life, that fellowship of spirit, and tran
quillity of conscience which once kept you fast bound
to us ?
2. And, it anything on my side is causing you loss or
keeping you back, I ask you not to doubt that that report
is false, which I hear you have been made to believe by
1 A Cistercian Abbey in Brittany, in the Diocese of Nantes, a daughter of
Clairvaux, founded A.u. 1135. See ep. 1 16.
688 LETTER CCXXXIII.
some false tongues or other; viz., that I, without any
reason or trial, was thinking of removing you from the
care of the souls of your brethren that I had entrusted to
you. This is not true ; but in a word or two hear what is.
Even if I had wished to do this, it would not have been
lawful; and if it had been lawful (I speak on my conscience)
I should never have wished it. This is the truth. If, then,
this was the only reason why your heart has been turned,
now that the truth has been made known, what remains but
that you regain your wisdom, return to yourself 
