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SISTERS  OF  CHRISTIAN  CH 


GREAT    LETTER    WRITERS 


S.    BERNARD    OF    CLAIRVAUX 


THE   COMPLETE   WORKS   OF 
S.    BERNARD,   ABBOT    OF    CLAIRVAUX 

TRANSLATED   INTO   ENGLISH    FROM 

THE  EDITION  OF  DOM.  JOANNES  MABILLON, 

OF  THE   BENEDICTINE   CONGREGATION   OF   S.    MAUR    (PARIS,   1690), 
AND    EDITED    BY 

SAMUEL  J.  BALES,  D.C.L. 


VOLS.  I.  AND  II.— THE  LETTERS  OF  S.  BERNARD. 

VOL.  III. — LETTERS  AND  SERMONS. 

VOL.  IV. — CANTICA  CANTICORUM.    EIGHTY-SIX  SERMONS  ON 
THE  SONG  OF  SOLOMON. 

7-r.  6d.  each  J'o/. 


"  In  his  writings  great  natural  powers  shine  forth  resplendently,  an 
intellect  more  than  that  of  the  subtle  Abelard,  an  eloquence  that  was 
irresistible,  an  imagination  like  a  poet,  and  a  simplicity  that  wins  the 
admiration  of  all.  Priests  will  find  it  a  most  valuable  book  for  spiritual 
reading  and  sermons.  The  printing  and  binding  of  the  work  are 
superb."— Catholic  World  (New  York). 

"  No  writer  of  the  Middle  Ages  is  so  fruitful  of  moral  inspiration  as 
b.  Bernard,  no  character  is  more  beautiful,  and  no  man  in  any  age 
whatever  so  faithfully  represented  all  that  was  best  in  the  impulses  of 
his  time,  or  exercised  so  powerful  an  influence  upon  it.  ...  There  is 
no  man  whose  letters  cover  so  many  subjects  of  abiding  interest,  or 
whose  influence  was  so  widely  spread." — Athen<zum. 

"...  The  letters  are  of  great  historic  interest,  and  many  of  them 
most  touching.  The  simple  earnestness  of  the  man,  and  his  utter 
freedom  from  ambition,  strike  us  on  almost  every  page." — Notes  and 
Queries. 

"  English  readers  of  every  class  and  creed  owe  a  debt  of  gratitude  to 
Dr.  Eales  for  the  great  and  useful  work  which  he  has  undertaken.  It 
is  strange  that  now  for  the  first  time  has  such  a  task  been  even,  as  far 
as  we  are  aware,  approached.  .  .  .  We  have  indeed  much  to  be  grateful 
for  to  the  first  English  translator  of  S.  Bernard's  works." — The  Month. 


:?tftftsFERRI£  "'' 
IH/mett..  /«»•'•       "***«> 

SOME  LETTERS  OF 


SAINT  BERNARD 

ABBOT  OF  CLAIRVAUX 


PROM  THE  TRANSLATION  BY  THE  LATE  DR.  EALES 

Vicar  of  Stalisfield 


SKLECTED,    WITH    A    PREFACE,    BY 

FRANCIS   AIDAN   GASQUET,   D.D. 

Abbot  President  of  the  English  Benedictine 
Congregation 

AUTHOR  OF  "HENRY  VIII.  AND  THE  ENGLISH  MONASTERIES" 

"THE  GREAT   PESTILENCE  (A.  D.  1348  -g>" 

"THE  OLD  ENGLISH  BIBLE,"  ETC. 


NEW  EDITION 


NEW  YORK,  CINCINNATI,  CHICAGO 

BENZIGER    BROTHERS 

Printers  to  the  Holy  Apostolic  See 

1906 


TO   THE    READER 


THIS  selection  of  S.  Bernard's  letters  has  been  made 
in  the  hope  that  it  may  find  its  way  into  the  hands  of 
many  to  whom  the  volumes  of  the  greater  collection 
are  unknown,  or  are  for  one  reason  or  another  in 
accessible.  The  letters  of  great  and  good  men  give 
us  information  about  them  which  can  be  derived  from 
no  other  source.  "  As  the  eyes  are  to  the  other 
bodily  senses,"  says  the  editor  of  S.  Augustine's 
correspondence,  "so  are  the  letters  of  illustrious  men 
in  numberless  ways  more  wonderful  than  all  their 
other  works.  In  them,  as  in  the  mirror  of  the  human 
eyes,  appear  the  personal  qualities,  passions,  virtues, 
and  vices  of  the  individual.  Just  as  no  one  can  better 
show  himself  to  the  life  than  in  his  letters,  so  nowhere 
can  he  be  better  known "  than  in  them.  This  is 
true  of  the  letters  of  every  saint,  as  well  as  of  every 
man  of  affairs  ;  and  the  peculiar  value  and  charm 
of  such  collections  of  letters  is  almost  universally 
acknowledged. 

S.  Bernard's  unique  position  in  the  Church  in  his 
day,  and  the  widespread  authority  he  possessed,  no 
less  than  his  acknowledged  place  among  the  spiritual 
writers  of  all  ages,  tend  to  make  his  correspondence 
peculiarly  interesting,  as  revealing  in  a  more  intimate 
way  than  any  of  his  more  formal  writings,  the  char- 


viii  TO    THE    READER 

acteristic  qualifications  and  virtues,  which  won  for 
him  the  great  position  he  held  so  long  during  the 
middle  ages.  His  learning  and  judgment  no  doubt 
fully  appear  in  his  tracts,  treatises,  and  sermons  ;  but 
in  the  private  letters  that  were  intended  only  for  the 
eye  of  the  recipient,  the  reader  can  get  a  deeper  insight 
into  the  man  and  the  saint,  and  learn  more  fully, 
because  more  naturally,  his  real  qualities.  In  them 
appear  his  prudence  and  zeal,  his  love  of  truth  and 
piety,  the  warmth  of  his  human  affections  and  his 
natural  eloquence  with  more  genuine  truth  than, 
say,  in  his  commentary  on  The  Canticle  of 
Canticles,  his  Mystical  Vine,  or  his  Treatise  against 
Abelard. 

"  It  sometimes  happens,"  says  the  editor  above 
quoted,  "  that  in  writing  about  themselves,  the  saints 
immoderately  exaggerate  their  bad  qualities  ;  or 
disparage  their  good  more  than  is  just.  When 
another,  however,  writes  about  them,  he  is  unable 
properly  to  penetrate  the  interior  qualities  of  their 
soul  ;  or  if  he  can,  is  unable  properly  to  express  his 
knowledge  for  the  benefit  of  others.  But  in 
their  letters  writers  display  themselves  spontane 
ously,  and  paint  themselves  in  their  natural  colours." 
Nature,  locality,  occasion,  and  persons  are  produced 
before  the  mind  of  the  reader  even  when  the  writer  had 
no  conscious  design  of  doing  so,  and  this  in  so  clear  a 
manner  "  that  any  careful  reader  may,  in  these  letters 
of  our  author,  look  into  his  face  and  soul  as  if  he  were 
close  at  hand." 

For  the  benefit  of  those  readers  of  this  little  volume 
who  may  not  have  access  to  any  full  account  of  S. 
Bernard's  career,  it  may  be  useful  to  give  here  a  brief 


TO    THE    READER  ix 

outline  of  his  life.  The  Saint  was  born  in  the  year 
1091  in  the  village  of  Fontaine,  in  the  province  of 
Burgundy.  He  received  a  good  education  in  his 
youth,  and  from  the  first  displayed  the  best  Christian 
dispositions.  At  the  age  of  three-and-twenty  he 
determined  to  dedicate  his  life  to  God  in  the  cloister, 
and  made  choice  of  Citeaux,  a  monastery  then  under 
the  fervent  direction  of  S.  Stephen  Harding  and  which 
S.  Robert  had  founded  only  a  few  years  previously 
from  Molesmes.  Bernard  took  with  him  to  Citeaux 
thirty  companions,  and  from  this  refuge  he  was  sent 
two  years  later,  in  1115,  to  be  Abbot  of  Clairvaux,  the 
first  offshoot  of  the  future  great  religious  congregation 
of  Cistercians  which  had  its  centre  at  Citeaux. 

The  former  solitude  of  Clairvaux  soon  became 
peopled  under  S.  Bernard  with  men  who  were  at 
tracted  by  the  Saint's  great  personality  and  some  700 
novices  are  said  to  have  sat  at  his  feet  to  learn  the 
science  of  the  saints.  He  himself  lived  to  see  one  of 
his  disciples  upon  the  throne  of  S.  Peter,  six  more  be 
come  cardinals,  and  over  thirty  bishops  in  various  sees 
of  the  Christian  world.  He  acquired,  in  a  truly  mar 
vellous  way,  the  general  esteem  and  confidence  of 
bishops,  nobles,  and  peoples.  For  a  considerable 
period  there  was  no  ecclesiastical  matter  of  any  im 
portance,  no  difference  to  be  composed,  and  no 
religious  enterprise  upon  which  he  was  not  consulted. 
It  was  with  his  assistance,  or  it  may  be  said  by  the 
authority  of  his  name,  that  Innocent  II.  was  recognised 
in  the  Church  as  Pontiff,  and  that  Victor  voluntarily 
abdicated  the  position  of  anti-pope.  From  1131  to 
1138  S.  Bernard  was  constantly  at  work  healing  the 
schism.  At  the  Council  of  Sens  in  1140  he  confounded 


x  TO    THE    READER 

Abelard  by  his  learning  and  secured  his  condemnation. 
In  1148  he  preached  the  Crusade,  the  partial  failure 
of  which  he  subsequently  attributed  to  the  sins  of  the 
Crusaders. 

During  all  this  time  he  lived  as  a  true  monk  in  the 
face  of  the  world,  and  so  many  wonders  and  miracles 
were  worked  by  him,  or  through  his  instrumentality, 
that  he  became  commonly  known  as  the  Thaumaturgus 
of  the  West.  During  his  lifetime  he  founded  160 
monasteries  in  various  parts  of  the  western  world,  and 
he  died  at  the  age  of  sixty-three  on  2oth  August  1153. 

A  word  may  now  be  allowed  about  S.  Bernard's 
literary  style,  of  which  we  have  evidence  in  the  hvo 
volumes  of  his  "  Letters,"  translated  and  published  by 
Dr.  Eales,  a  selection  from  which  is  made  in  this 
small  volume.  He  writes  always  in  a  lively  and 
pleasant  way  :  his  thoughts  are  exalted  and  are 
expressed  in  a  manner,  full  of  unction  ;  whilst  tender, 
he  is  by  no  means  wanting  in  strength,  and  at  times 
he  is  vehement  in  defence  of  the  truth  or  when  it  is 
necessary  to  carry  conviction  to  the  mind  of  him 
with  whom  he  is  corresponding.  His  diction  is 
saturated,  so  to  speak,  with  Holy  Scripture  ;  and  he 
constantly  makes  use  of  texts  taken  from  the  Bible, 
and  still  more  frequently  of  Biblical  expressions  inter 
woven  into  his  own  language.  His  favourites  among 
the  Fathers  are  S.  Ambrose  and  S.  Augustine,  and  he 
follows  their  teachings  and  opinions  as  conclusive 
arguments  for  the  truth. 

S.  Bernard  in  the  midst  of  all  his  labours  found 
time  for  writing  a  great  tmany  letters.  Four  hundred 
and  eighty-two  of  these,  some  of  considerable  length, 
have  been  preserved,  and  are  to  be  found  printed  in 


TO    THE    READER  xi 

the  great  collections  of  the  Saint's  works.  From 
these,  as  given  to  English  readers  in  the  faithful  and 
easy  translation  made  by  the  late  Dr.  Eales,  sixty-six 
are  selected  as  samples  in  the  present  volume.  Where 
all  is  so  excellent  and  so  really  fascinating  the  task  of 
selection  was  not  difficult,  and  mainly  consisted  in  the 
unwelcome  process  of  exclusion.  The  reason  why 
one  should  be  taken  and  another  left  was  not  always 
obvious,  and  beyond  choosing  all  the  letters  which  in 
any  way  had  something  to  do  with  England,  and  one 
or  two  characteristic  specimens,  such  as  No.  II.  :  "To 
the  monk  Adam,"  or  No.  LX.  on  "the  Heresies  of 
Peter  Abelard,"  with  the  preceding  note,  practically  no 
principle  has  guided  the  choice.  In  the  notes  it  has 
been  thought  best,  when  reference  is  made  to  other 
letters  not  contained  in  this  volume,  to  retain  the 
numbers  given  to  the  letters  in  the  original  volumes. 
It  may,  in  conclusion,  be  hoped  that  some  at  least 
may  be  tempted  by  these  sample  letters  of  a  man  who 
had  to  play  so  great  a  part  in  the  first  half  of  the 
twelfth  century,  to  desire  to  become  further  acquainted 
with  him  in  the  larger  collections  of  his  writings. 


FRANCIS  AIDAN  GASQUKT. 


ATHEN/EUM  CI.UB, 

All  Saints*  Day,  1903. 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 


LETTER 

I.  To  THE  CANONS  REGULAR  OK  HORRICOURT         .        .  i 

II.  To  THE  MONK  ADAM      .                3 

III.  To  BRUNO,  ARCHBISHOP  ELECT  OK  COLOGNE       .        .  27 

IV.  To  THE  PRIOR   AND   MONKS  OK  THE  GRAND   CHAR 

TREUSE        31 

V.  To  PETER,  CARDINAL  DEACON 33 

VI.  To  THE  SAME  ...  34 

VII.  To  MATTHEW,  THE  LEGATE  .                ....  40 

VIII.  To  GILBERT,  BISHOP  OK  LONDON,  UNIVERSAL  DOCTOR  42 
IX.  To    ARDUTIO    (OR    ARDUTIUS),    BISHOP    ELECT    OF 

GENEVA 44 

X.  To  THE  SAME,  WHEN  BISHOP 45 

XI.  To  THE  ABBOT  OK  SAINT  NICASIUS  AT  KHEIMS  .        .  47 

XII.  To  Louis,  KING  OK  FRANCE 49 

XIII.  TO  THE   SAME  POPE,    IN   THE   NAME  OK   GEOKKREY, 

BISHOP  OK  CHARTRES 52 

XIV.  To  ALEXANDER,  BISHOP  OF  LINCOLN    .                        .  54 
XV.  To  ALVISUS,  ABBOT  OK  ANCHIN     .                       •        •  57 

XVI.  To  RAINALD,  ABBOT  OF  FOIGNV   .                        .        .  61 

XVII.  To  THE  SAME  ...  66 

XVIII.  To  THE  SAME 69 


xiv  CONTENTS 

LETTER  PAUE 

XIX.  To  SUGER,  ABBOT  OF  S.  DENIS 70 

XX.  To  GUY,  ABBOT  OF  MOLKSMES 85 

XXI.  To  THE  ABBOT  OF  S.  JOHN  AT  CHARTRES        .        .  86 

XXII.  To  SIMON,  ABBOT  OF  S.  NICHOLAS   ....  90 

XXIII.  To  THE  SAME 92 

XXIV.  To  OGER,  REGULAR  CANON 94 

XXV.  To  THE  SAME 107 

XXVI.  To  THE  SAME .112 

XXVII.  To  THE  SAME 115 

XXVIII.  To  THE  ABBOTS  ASSEMBLED  AT  SOISSONS  .        .        .117 

XXIX.  To  HENRY,  KING  OF  ENGLAND 121 

XXX.  To  HENRY,  BISHOP  OF  WINCHESTER         .        .        .     122 
XXXI.  To  THE  ABBOT  OF  A  CERTAIN  MONASTERY  AT  YORK, 

FROM   WHICH    THE    PRIOR    HAD    DEPARTED,    TAK 
ING  SEVERAL  RELIGIOUS  WITH  HIM     .        .        .124 
XXXII.  To  THURSTAN,  ARCHBISHOP  OF  YORK       .        .        .127 

XXXIII.  To    RICHARD,    ABBOT    OF    FOUNTAINS,    AND    HIS 

COMPANIONS,  WHO   HAD   PASSED  OVER  TO  THE 
CISTERCIAN  ORDER  FROM  ANOTHER    .        .        .     129 

XXXIV.  HlLDEBERT,  ARCHBISHOP  OF  TOURS,  TO  THE  ABBOT 

BERNARD         ...«.'..  131 

XXXV.  REPLY   OF   THE   ABBOT   BERNARD   TO   HILDEBERT, 

ARCHBISHOP  OF  TOURS 133 

XXXVI.  To   THE    SAME    HILDEBERT,    WHO    HAD    NOT    YET 

ACKNOWLEDGED   THE   LORD    INNOCENT   AS    POPE        135 

XXXVII.  To  MAGISTER  GEOFFREY,  OF  LORETTO     .        .        .     138 

XXXVIII.  To  HIS  MONKS  OF  CLAIRVAUX 140 

XXXIX.  To  THE  SAME 143 


CONTENTS  xv 

FACE 
LETTER 

XL.  To  THOMAS,  PRIOR  OF  BEVERLEY        .        .        .        .     147 
XLI.  To  THOMAS  OK   ST.  OMKR,  AFTER  HE  HAD  BROKEN 
HIS    PROMISE    OF    ADOPTING     A     CHANGE    OF 

LIFE Ife 

XLII.  To  THE  ILLUSTRIOUS  YOUTH,  GEOFFREY  DE  PERRONE, 

AND  HIS  COMRADES         .        .        .        •        •        •     I(>5 
XLIII.  A  CONSOLATORY  LETTER  TO  THE  PARENTS  OF  GEOF- 

FREY l68 

XLIV.  CONCERNING  THE  MACCABEES  HUT  TO  WHOM  WRITTEN 

is  UNKNOWN l69 

XLV.  To  A  YOUTH  NAMED  FULK,  WHO  AFTERWARDS  WAS 

ARCHDEACON  OF  LANGRES *77 

XLVI.  To  GUIGUES,  THE  PRIOR,  AND  TO  THE  OTHER  MONKS 

OF  THE  GRAND  CHARTREUSE         .        .        .        .192 
XLVII.  To    THE     BROTHER     OF     WILLIAM,     A     MONK     OF 

CLAIRVAUX 2o6 

XLVIII.  To  MAGISTER  WALTER  DE  CHAUMONT 
XLIX.  To  ROM  AN  us,  SUB-DEACON  OF  THE  ROMAN  CURIA    .    212 
L.  To  GEOFFREY,  OF  LISIEUX    .  .        .    214 

LI.  To  THE  VIRGIN  SOPHIA 

LI  I.   TO   ANOTHER    HOLY   VIRGIN      . 
LIII.    TO    ANOTHER    HOLY    VIRGIN     OF     THE     CONVENT     OF 

S.  MARY  OF  TROYES       .     • 227 

LIV.  To  ERMENGARDE,  FORMERLY  COUNTESS  OF  BRITTANY    230 

LV.  To  THE  SAME -231 

LVI.  To  BEATRICE,  A  NOBLE  AND  RELIGIOUS  LADY  .        .    232 

LVII.  To  THE  DUKE  AND  DUCHESS  OF  LORRAINE  .    234 

LVIII.  To  THE  DUCHESS  OF  LORRAINE    .  •    235 


xvi  CONTENTS 

LETTER 

LIX.  To  THE  DUCHESS  OK  BURGUNDY    .        .        .  337 

NOTE  TO  TREATISE          ....  2^8 
LX.  To  THE    SAME,  AGAINST   CERTAIN   HEADS   OK  AKAE- 

LARD'S  HERESIES 2cg 

LXI.  To  Louis  THE  YOUNGER,  KING  OK  THE  FRENCH         .  294 

LXII.  To  POPE  INNOCENT 207 

LXIII.  To  THE  SAME,  IN  THE  NAME  OK  GODKREY,  BISHOP  OK 

LANGRES 2qg 

LXIV.   To   THE   ABOVE-NAMED    FALCO 309 

LXV.  To  THE  CANONS  OK   LYONS,  ON   THE  CONCEPTION  OK 
S.  IV 


300 

LXVI.  To  THE  PATRIARCH  OK  JERUSALEM        .        .        .        .308 


S.     BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

LETTER   I   (circa    1120) 
To  THE  CANONS  REGULAR  OF  HoRRicouRT1 

Their  praises  inspire  him  with  more  fear  than  satisfaction. 
They  ought  not  to  put  any  obstacle  in  the  way  of  the  religious 
profession  of  certain  regular  canons  of  S.  Augustine,  whom 
he  has  received  at  Clairvaux. 

To  the  Superior  of  the  holy  body  of  clerics  and 
servants  of  God  who  are  in  the  place  which  is  called 
Horricourt,  and  to  their  disciples  :  the  little  flock  of 
the  brothers  of  Clairvaux,  and  their  very  humble 
servant,  Brother  Bernard,  wish  health,  and  power  to 
walk  in  the  Spirit,  and  to  see  all  things  in  a  spiritual 
manner. 

Your  letter,  in  which  you  have  addressed  to  us  an 
exhortation  so  salutary  and  profitable,  brings  us  con 
vincing  proof  of  your  knowledge  and  charity,  which 
we  admire,  and  for  which  we  thank  you.  But  that 
which  you  have  so  kindly  prefixed  by  way  of  praise 
of  me  is,  I  fear,  not  founded  on  experience,  although 
you  have  thus  given  me  an  excellent  occasion  to 

1  The  title  of  this  letter  follows  a  MS.  at  Corbey.     It  does  not  appear 
who  these  regular  canons  were. 

A 


2  S.    BERNARD'S   LETTERS 

practise  humility  if  I  know  how  to  profit  by  it.  Yet 
it  has  excited  great  fear  in  me,  who  know  myself  to 
be  far  below  what  you  imagine.  For  which  of  us 
who  takes  heed  to  his  ways  can  listen  without  either 
great  fear  or  great  danger,  to  praises  of  himself  so 
great  and  so  undeserved  ?  It  is  not  safe  for  any  one 
to  commit  himself  to  his  own  judgment  or  even  to 
the  judgment  of  another  ;  for  He  who  judgeth  MS  is  the 
Lord  (i  Corinthians  iv.  4).  As  to  the  brothers  con 
cerning  whose  safety  we  recognize  that  your  charity 
has  been  solicitous,  that  we  should  return  them  to 
you  unharmed  ;  know  that  by  the  advice  and  per 
suasion  of  many  illustrious  persons,  and  chiefly  of  that 
very  distinguished  man  William,  Bishop  of  Chalons,1 
they  have  taken  refuge  with  us,  and  have  begged  us 
with  earnest  supplication  to  receive  them,  which  we 
have  done.  Though  they  have  quitted  the  rule  of  S. 
Augustine  for  that  of  S.  Benedict  in  order  to  embrace 
a  stricter  life,  yet  they  do  not  depart  from  the  rule 
of  Him,  who  is  the  one  Master  in  heaven  and  in 
earth  ;  nor  do  they  make  void  that  first  faith  which 
they  promised  among  you,  and  which,  indeed,  they 
promised,  first  of  all,  in  baptism.  They  being  such, 
therefore,  and  having  been  so  received,  we  are  far 
from  thinking  that  your  sense  of  right  will  be  injured 
by  our  having  received  them,  or  that  you  ought  to 
take  it  ill  if  we  retain  them  ;  yet  if  they  desist  from 
their  resolution  during  the  year  of  probation  which 
the  Rule  requires,  and  desire  to  return  to  you,  be 
assured  that  we  shall  not  detain  them  against  their 
will.  In  any  case,  most  holy  brethren,  you  would 

1  This  was  William  of  Champeaux,  a  friend  of  S.  Bernard,  who  died 
in  ii2i. 


LETTER    II  3 

be  wrong  to  resist,  by  an  ill-considered  and  useless 
anathema,  the  spirit  of  liberty  which  is  in  them  ; 
unless,  perchance  (which  may  God  avert !),  you 
study  more  to  promote  your  own  interests  than 
those  of  Jesus  Christ. 


LETTER   II   (A.D.    1126) 

TO    THE    MONK   ADAM1 

i.  If  you  remain  yet  in  that  spirit  of  charity 
which  I  either  knew  or  believed  to  be  with  you 
formerly,  you  would  certainly  feel  the  condemnation 
with  which  charity  must  regard  the  scandal  which 
you  have  given  to  the  weak.  For  charity  would  not 
offend  charity,  nor  scorn  when  it  feels  itself  offended. 
For  it  cannot  deny  itself,  nor  be  divided  against 
itself.  Its  function  is  rather  to  draw  together  things 
divided  ;  and  it  is  far  from  dividing  those  that  are 
joined.  Now,  if  that  remained  in  you,  as  I  have 
said,  it  would  not  keep  silent,  it  would  not  rest 
unconcerned,  nor  pretend  indifference,  but  it  would 
without  doubt  whisper,  with  groans  and  uneasiness  at 
the  bottom  of  your  pious  heart,  that  saying,  Who  is 
offended,  and  I  burn  not  (2  Cor.  xi.  29).  If,  then, 
it  is  kind,  it  loves  peace,  and  rejoices  in  unity  ;  it 
produces  them,  cements  them,  strengthens  them, 
and  wherever  it  reigns  it  makes  the  bond  of  peace. 
As,  then,  you  are  in  opposition  to  that  true 

1  The  MS.  in  the  Royal  Library  is  inscribed :  De  Discretione  Obedientia  . 
Of  Discernment  in  Obedience.  This  Letter  was  written  after  the  death  ol 
Abbot  Arnold,  which  took  place  in  Belgium  in  the  year  1126. 


4  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

mother  of  peace  and  concord,  on  what  ground,  I 
ask  you,  do  you  presume  that  your  sacrifice,  what 
ever  it  may  be,  will  be  accepted  by  God,  when 
without  it  even  martyrdom  profiteth  nothing  (i  Cor. 
xiii.  3)  ?  Or,  on  what  ground  do  you  trust  that  you 
are  not  the  enemy  of  charity  when  breaking  unity, 
rending  the  bond  of  peace,  you  lacerate  her  bowels, 
treating  with  such  cruelty  their  dear  pledges,  which 
you  neither  have  borne  nor  do  bear  ?  You  must 
lay  down,  then,  the  offering,  whatever  it  may  be, 
which  you  are  preparing  to  lay  on  the  altar,  and 
hasten  to  go  and  reconcile  yourself  not  with  one  of 
your  brethren  only,  but  with  the  entire  body.  The 
whole  body  of  the  fraternity,  grievously  wounded  by 
your  withdrawal,  as  by  the  stroke  of  a  sword,  utters 
its  complaints  against  you  and  the  few  with  you, 
saying  :  The  sons  of  my  mother  have  fought  against  me 
(Cant.  i.  5).  And  rightly  ;  for  who  is  not  with  her, 
is  against  her.  Can  you  think  that  a  mother,  as 
tender  as  charity,  can  hear  without  emotion  the 
complaint,  so  just,  of  a  community  which  is  to  her 
as  a  daughter  ?  Therefore,  joining  her  tears  with 
ours,  she  says,  /  have  nourished  and  brought  up  children, 
and  they  have  rebelled  against  me  (Isa.  i.  2).  Charity  is 
God  Himself.  Christ  is  our  peace,  who  hath  made  both 
one  (Eph.  ii.  14).  Unity  is  the  mystery  even  of  the 
Holy  Trinity.  What  place,  then,  in  the  kingdom  of 
Christ  and  of  God  has  he  who  is  an  enemy  of 
charity,  peace,  and  unity  ? 

2.  My  abbot,  perhaps  you  will  say,  has  obliged 
me  to  follow  him — ought  I  then  to  have  been  dis 
obedient  ?  But  you  cannot  have  forgotten  the 
conclusion  to  which  we  came  one  day  after  a  long 


LETTER    II  5 

discussion  together  upon  that  scandalous  project 
which  even  then  you  were  meditating.  If  you  had 
remained  in  that  conclusion,  now  it  might  have  been 
not  unfitly  said  of  you,  Blessed  is  the  man  who  hath  not 
walked  in  the  counsel  of  the  ungodly  (Ps.  i.  i).  But  let 
it  be  so.  Sons  ought,  no  doubt,  to  obey  a  father  ; 
scholars  a  teacher.  An  abbot  may  lead  his  monks 
where  he  shall  please,  and  teach  them  what  he  thinks 
proper  ;  but  this  is  only  as  long  as  he  lives.  Now 
that  he  is  dead,  whom  you  were  bound  to  hear  as  a 
teacher  and  to  follow  as  a  guide,  why  are  you  still 
delaying  to  make  amends  for  the  grave  scandal  that 
you  have  occasioned  ?  What  hinders  you  now  to 
give  ear,  I  do  not  say  to  me  when  I  recall  you,  but 
to  our  God,  when  He  mercifully  does  so  by  the 
mouth  of  Jeremiah,  Shall  they  fall  and  not  arise? 
Shall  he  turn  away  and  not  return  ?  (Jer.  viii.  4.)  Or 
has  your  abbot,  when  dying,  forbidden  you  ever  to 
rise  again  after  your  fall,  or  ever  to  speak  of  your 
return  ?  Is  it  necessary  for  you  to  obey  him  even 
when  dead — to  obey  him  against  charity  and  at  the 
peril  of  your  soul  ?  You  would  allow,  I  suppose, 
that  the  bond  between  an  abbot  and  his  monks  is  by 
no  means  so  strong  or  tenacious  as  that  of  married 
persons,  whom  God  Himself  and  not  man  has  bound 
with  an  inviolable  sacrament — as  the  Saviour  says  : 
What  God  hath  joined  together  let  no  man  put  asunder 
(S.  Matt.  xix.  6).  But  the  Apostle  asserts  that  when 
the  husband  is  dead  the  wife  is  freed  from  the  law 
of  her  husband  (Rom.  vii.  2),  and  do  you  consider 
yourself  bound  by  the  law  of  your  dead  abbot,  and 
this  against  a  law  which  is  more  binding  still,  that  of 
charity  ? 


6  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

3.  These  things  I  say,  yet  I  do  not  think  that  you 
ought  to  have  yielded  to  him  in  this  even  when  living, 
or  that  thus  to  have  yielded  ought  to  be  called  obedi 
ence.  For  it  is  of  that  kind  of  obedience  that  it  is 
said  in  general :  The  Lord  shall  lead  forth  with  the 
workers  of  iniquity  those  who  deviate  in  their  obedience 
(Ps.  cxxv.  5,  VULG.).  And  that  no  one  may  con 
tend  that  obedience  to  an  abbot,  even  in  things  evil, 
is  free  from  that  penalty,  there  are  words  elsewhere 
still  more  precise  :  The  son  shall  not  bear  the  iniquity  of 
the  father,  and  the  father  shall  not  bear  the  iniquity  of  the 
son  (Ezek.  xviii.  20).  From  these,  then,  it  appears 
clearly  that  those  who  command  things  evil  are  not 
to  be  obeyed,  especially  when  in  yielding  to  wrong 
commands,  in  which  you  appear  to  obey  man,  you 
show  yourself  plainly  disobedient  to  God,  who  has 
forbidden  everything  that  is  evil.  For  it  is  altogether 
unreasonable  to  profess  yourself  obedient  when  you 
know  that  you  are  violating  obedience  due  to  the 
superior  on  account  of  the  inferior,  that  is,  to  the 
Divine  on  account  of  the  human.  What  then ! 
God  forbids  what  man  orders  ;  and  shall  I  be  deaf 
to  the  voice  of  God  and  listen  to  that  of  man  ? 
The  Apostles  did  not  understand  the  matter  thus 
when  they  said,  We  must  obey  God  rather  than  men 
(Acts  v.  29).  Does  not  the  Lord  in  the  Gospel 
blame  the  Pharisees  :  Ye  transgress  the  commandment 
of  God  on  account  of  your  traditions  (S.  Matt.  xv.  3). 
And  by  Isaiah  :  In  vain  they  worship  Me,  he  says, 
teaching  the  commands  and  doctrines  of  men  (Is.  xxix. 
13).  And  also  to  our  first  father.1  Because  thou 

1  Protoplastus,  the  first  formed.     Tertullian,  Exhort,  ad  Castit.,  cap.  2 
and  Adv.Jud.,  c.  13,  calls  Adam  and  Eve  Protoplasti. — [E.] 


LETTER    II  7 

hast  obeyed  thy  wife  rather  than  Me,  the  earth  shall  be 
rebellious  to  thy  work  (Gen.  iii.  17).  Therefore  to 
do  evil,  whosoever  it  be  that  bids,  is  shown  not  to 
be  obedience,  but  disobedience. 

4.  To   make  this   principle   clear,   we   must    note 
that   some   actions   are  wholly   good,  others   wholly 
evil :  and  in  these  no  obedience  is  to  be  rendered  to 
men.     For  the  former  are  not  to  be  omitted  by  us, 
even  if  they  are  prohibited  [by  men] :  nor  the  latter 
done,    even    though    they    are    commanded.        But, 
besides  these,  there  are  actions  between  the  two,  and 
which   may  be  good  or   evil   according  to   circum 
stances   of  place,  time,   manner,   or  person,  and  in 
these  obedience  has  its  place,  as  it  was  in  the  matter 
of  the  tree  of  the  knowledge  of  good  and  evil,  which 
was  in  the  midst  of  Paradise.      When  these  are   in 
question,  it  is  not  right  to  prefer  our  own  judgment 
to  that  of  our  superiors,  so  as   to   take   no  heed   of 
what  they  order  or  forbid.      Let  us  see  whether   it 
be  not  such  a  case  that  I  have  condemned  in  you, 
and  whether  you  ought  not  to  be  condemned.      For 
clearness,  I  will  subjoin  examples  of  the  distinction 
which  I   have  just  made.      Faith,  hope,  charity,  and 
others  of  that  class  are  wholly  good  ;  it  cannot  be 
wrong  to  command,  or  to  practice  them,  nor  right 
to  forbid  them,  or  to  neglect  the  practice    of   them. 
Theft,  sacrilege,  adultery,  and   all   other   such  vices 
are  wholly  evil ;  it  can  never  be  right  to  practice  or 
to  order  them,  nor  wrong  to  forbid  or   avoid  them. 
The  law  is  not  made  for  things  of  this  kind,  for  the 
prohibition  of  no  person  has   the  power  to   render 
null  the  commandments  given,  nor  the  command  of 
any  to  render  lawful  the  things  prohibited.     There 


8  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

are,  finally,  things  of  a  middle  kind  which  are  not 
in  themselves  good  or  evil  ;  they  may  be  indif 
ferently  either  prescribed  or  forbidden,  and  in  these 
things  an  inferior  never  sins  in  obeying.  Such  are, 
for  example,  fasting,  watching,  reading,  and  such 
like.  But  some  things  which  are  of  this  middle 
kind  often  pass  the  bounds  of  indifferency,  and 
become  the  one  or  the  other.  Thus,  marriage  is 
neither  prescribed  nor  forbidden,  but  when  it  is 
made  may  not  be  dissolved.  That,  therefore,  which 
before  the  nuptials  was  a  thing  of  the  middle  kind 
obtains  the  force  of  a  thing  wholly  good  in  regard 
to  the  married  pair.  Also,  it  is  a  thing  indifferent 
for  a  man  in  secular  life  to  possess  or  not  to  possess 
property  of  his  own  ;  but  to  a  monk,  who  is  not 
allowed  to  possess  anything,  it  is  wholly  evil. 

5.  Do  you  see  now,  brother,  to  which  branch  of 
my  division  your  action  belongs  ?  If  it  is  to  be  put 
among  things  wholly  good  it  is  praiseworthy :  if 
among  those  wholly  evil  it  is  greatly  to  be  blamed  : 
but  if  it  is  to  be  placed  among  those  of  the  middle 
kind  you  may,  perhaps,  find  in  your  obedience  an 
excuse  for  your  first  departure,  but  your  delay  in 
returning  is  not  at  all  excusable,  since  that  was  not 
from  obedience.  For  when  your  abbot  was  dead, 
if  he  had  previously  ordered  anything  which  was 
not  fitting,  the  former  discussion  has  shown  you 
that  you  were  no  longer  bound  to  obey  him.  And 
although  the  matter  is  now  sufficiently  clear  by 
itself,  yet  because  of  some  who  seek  for  occasion  to 
object  when  reason  does  not  support  them,  I  will 
put  the  matter  clearly  again,  so  that  every  shade  of 
doubt  may  disappear,  and  I  will  show  you  that  your 


LETTER    II  9 

obedience  and  your  leaving  your  monastery,  were 
neither  wholly  good  nor  partly  good,  but  plainly 
wholly  evil.  Concerning  him  who  is  dead,  I  am 
silent ;  he  has  now  God  alone  for  his  judge,  and  to 
his  own  Lord  he  either  stands  or  falls ;  that  God 
may  not  say  with  righteous  anger,  "  Men  have  taken 
away  from  me  even  the  right  to  judge."  However, 
for  the  instruction  of  the  living  I  discuss,  not  even 
what  he  has  done,  but  what  he  has  ordered  ; 
whether,  that  is  to  say,  his  order  ought  to  have 
been  obligatory,  inasmuch  as  a  widespreading  scandal 
has  followed  upon  it.  And  I  say  this  first ;  that  if 
there  are  any  who  followed  him  when  he  wrongly 
left  his  cloister,  but  who  followed  in  simplicity,  and 
without  suspecting  any  evil,  supposing  that  he  had 
license  to  go  forth  from  the  Bishop  of  Langres  and 
the  Abbot  of  Citeaux  (for  to  each  of  these  was  he 
responsible) ;  and  it  is  not  incredible  that  some  of 
those  who  were  of  his  company  may  so  have 
believed  ;  this,  my  censure,  does  not  touch  them, 
provided  that  when  they  knew  the  truth,  they 
returned  without  delay. 

6.  Therefore  my  discourse  is  against  those  only,  or 
rather  for  those,  who  knowingly  and  purposely  put 
their  hands  into  the  fire  ;  who  being  conscious  of  his 
presumption,  yet  followed  him  who  presumed,  with 
out  caring  for  the  prohibition  of  the  Apostle,  and  his 
precept,  to  withdraw  from  every  brother  who  walks 
disorderly  (2  Thess.  iii.  6).  Despising  also  the  voice 
of  the  Lord  himself,  He  who  gathereth  not  with  me 
scattereth  (S.  Matt.  xii.  30).  To  you,  brethren,  be 
longs  clearly  and  specially  that  reproach  spoken  by 
Jeremiah,  which  I  recall  with  grief :  This  is  a  nation  that 


io  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

obeyeth  not  the  voice  of  the  Lord  their  God  (Jer.  vii.  28). 
For  clearly  that  is  the  Voice  of  God  pointing  out  His 
enemy  from  the  work  that  he  does,  and,  as  it  were, 
showing  him  with  a  stretched  finger  to  ward  off  simple 
souls  from  his  ungodly  example  :  He  who  is  not  with 
Me,  He  says,  scatters;  ought  you  to  have  followed  a 
disperser  ?  And  when  God  invites  you  to  unite  with 
Him,  ought  you  rather  to  follow  a  man  who  wishes 
to  disperse  you  ?  He  scorned  his  superiors,  he  ex 
posed  his  inferiors  to  danger,  he  deeply  troubled  his 
brethren,  and  yet  ye  seeing  a  thief  joined  yourself 
with  him  !  I  had  determined  to  be  silent  concerning 
him  who  is  dead,  but  I  am  obliged,  I  confess,  to 
proceed  still  a  little  further,  since  I  cannot  blame 
your  obedience,  if  his  command  is  not  shown  to 
be  altogether  improper.  Since  the  orders  and  the 
actions  of  the  man  were  similar  to  each  other,  it 
seems  impossible  to  praise  or  to  blame  the  one  with 
out  the  other.  Now  it  is  very  clear  that  orders  of 
that  kind  ought  not  to  have  been  obeyed,  since  they 
were  contrary  to  the  law  of  God.  For  who  can 
suppose  that  the  institutions  of  our  Fathers  are  not 
to  be  preferred  to  those  of  lesser  persons,  or  that  the 
general  rules  of  the  Order  must  not  prevail  over  the 
commands  of  private  persons  ?  For  we  have  this  in 
the  Rule  of  S.  Benedict.1 

7.  I  should  be  able,  indeed,  to  bring  forward  the 
Abbot  of  Citeaux  as  a  witness,  who,  as  being  superior 
to  your  abbot  as  a  father  to  a  son,  as  a  master  to  a 
disciple,  and,  in  a  word,  as  an  abbot  to  a  monk  com 
mitted  to  his  charge,  rightly  complains  that  you  have 
held  him  in  contempt  because  of  the  other.  I  might 

Reg.  Cap.  71. 


LETTER    II  n 

speak  also  of  the  Bishop,  whose  consent  was  not 
waited  for,  a  contempt  which  was  inexcusable,  since 
the  Lord  says  of  such  and  to  such  :  He  who  despises 
you  despises  Me  (S.  Luke  x.  16).  But  as  to  both  these 
might  be  opposed  and  preferred  the  authority  of  the 
Roman  Pontiff  as  more  weighty  ;  by  whose  license  it 
is  said  that  you  have  taken  care  to  secure  yourselves 
(the  question  of  that  license  shall  be  discussed  in  its 
proper  place),  [see  below,  No.  9],  I  rather  bring 
forward  such  an  one  as  you  dare  not  set  yourself 
against.  Most  surely  He  is  the  Supreme  Pontiff, 
who  by  His  own  blood  entered  in  once  and  alone 
into  the  Holy  Place  to  obtain  eternal  redemption 
(Heb.  ix.  12),  and  denounces  with  a  terrible  voice,  in 
the  Gospel,  that  none  should  dare  to  give  scandal  to 
even  the  least  of  His  little  ones  (S.  Matt,  xviii.  6).  I 
should  say  nothing  if  the  evil  had  not  proceeded 
farther.  An  easy  forgiveness  would  follow  a  fault 
which  has  no  grave  consequences.  But  at  present 
there  is  no  doubt  that  you  have  preferred  the 
commands  of  a  man  to  that  of  God,  and  have  thus 
scandalized  very  many.  What  man  of  any  sense 
would  say  that  such  an  audacious  act  was  good,  or 
could  become  good,  by  the  direction  of  any  man, 
whatever  his  dignity  ?  And  if  it  is  not  good,  nor 
can  become  good,  without  doubt  it  is  wholly  evil. 
Whence  it  follows  that  since  your  withdrawal  was  to 
the  scandal  of  many,  and  by  this  contrary  to  the  law 
of  God,  since  it  is  neither  wholly  good  nor  even  of  a 
middle  kind,  it  is,  therefore,  wholly  and  altogether 
evil  ;  because  that  which  is  wholly  is  always  such, 
and  that  of  a  middle  kind  can  become  so. 

8.   How  then   can   either  the   permission  of  your 


12  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

abbot  avail  to  make  that  permissible  which  is  (as  we 
have  already  shown  beyond  question)  wholly  evil, 
since  (as  we  have  said  above)  things  of  this  kind,  that 
is  things  purely  evil,  can  never  be  rightly  ordered 
nor  permissibly  done  ?  Do  you  see  how  futile  is 
the  excuse  you  draw  from  obedience  to  a  man  when 
you  are  convicted  of  a  transgression  against  God  ? 
I  hardly  suppose  that  you  would  resort  to  that  reply 
of  the  Lord  respecting  the  scandal  given  to  the 
Pharisees,  Let  them  alone,  they  be  blind  leaders  of  the 
blind  (S.  Matt.  xv.  14),  and  that  as  He  attached  no 
value  to  their  objections,  so  you  attach  no  value  to 
ours  ;  for  you  know  that  there  is  no  comparison  in 
this  respect  between  Him  and  you.  But  if  you 
make  comparison  of  persons,  you  find  that  on  one 
side  it  is  the  proud  Pharisees  who  are  scandalized,  on 
the  other  the  poor  of  Jesus  Christ  ;  and  as  to  the 
cause  of  the  scandal,  in  the  one  case  it  is  presump 
tion,  in  the  other  truth.  Again,  as  I  have  shown 
above,  you  have  not  only  preferred  a  human  to  a 
Divine  command,  but  that  of  a  private  person  to  a 
public  rule,  and  this  alone  would  suffice  for  proof  ; 
but  the  custom  and  Rule,  not  only  of  our  Order,  but 
of  all  monasteries,  seems  to  cry  out  against  your  un 
exampled  innovation  and  unparalleled  presumption. 

9.  You  had  then  just  reason  to  fear,  and  were 
rightly  distrustful  of  the  goodness  of  your  cause 
when,  in  order  to  still  the  pangs  of  your  consciences, 
you  tried  to  have  recourse  to  the  Holy  See.  O,  vain 
remedy  !  which  is  nothing  else  than  to  seek  girdles, 
like  our  first  parents,  for  your  ulcerated  consciences, 
that  is,  to  hide  the  ill  instead  of  curing  it.  We  have 
asked  and  obtained  (they  say)  the  permission  of  the 


LETTER    II  13 

Pope.  Would  that  you  had  asked  not  his  permission, 
but  his  advice  ;  that  is  to  say,  not  that  he  would 
permit  you  to  do  it,  but  whether  it  was  a  thing  per 
mitted  to  you  to  do  !  Why,  then,  did  you  solicit  his 
permission  ?  Was  it  to  render  lawful  that  which  was 
not  so  ?  Then  you  wished  to  do  what  was  not 
lawful ;  but  what  was  not  lawful  was  evil.  The  in 
tention,  therefore,  was  evil,  which  tended  towards 
evil.  Perhaps  you  would  say  that  the  wrong  thing 
which  you  demanded  permission  to  do  ceased  to  be 
such  if  it  was  done  by  virtue  of  a  permission.  But 
that  has  been  already  excluded  above  by  an  irrefrag 
able  reason.  For  when  God  said,  Do  not  despise  one 
of  these  little  ones  who  believe  in  Me,  He  did  not  add 
also,  Unless  with  permission  ;  nor  when  He  said,  Take 
care  not  to  give  scandal  to  one  of  these  little  ones  (S.  Matt, 
xviii.  6-1  o),  did  He  limit  it  by  adding,  Without 
licence.  It  is  then  certain  that  except  when  the 
necessary  interests  of  the  truth  require,  it  is  not  per 
mitted  to  any  one  to  give  any  scandal,  neither  to 
order  it,  nor  to  consent  to  it.  Yet  you  think  that 
permission  is  to  be  obtained  to  do  so.  But  to  what 
purpose  ?  Was  it  that  you  might  sin  with  more 
liberty  and  fewer  scruples,  and,  therefore,  with  just 
so  much  the  more  danger  ?  Wonderful  precaution, 
marvellous  prudence  !  They  had  already  devised  evil 
in  their  heart,  but  they  were  cautious  not  to  carry 
it  out  in  action  except  with  permission.  They  con 
ceived  in  sorrow,  but  they  did  not  bring  forth  iniquity 
until  the  Pope  had  afforded  his  consent  to  that  un 
righteous  birth.  With  what  advantage  ?  or,  at  least, 
with  what  lessening  of  the  evil  ?  Is  it  likely  that 
either  an  evil  will  cease  to  be  or  even  be  rendered 


14  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

less  because  the  Pope  has  consented  to  it  ?  But  who 
will  deny  it  to  be  a  bad  thing  to  give  consent  to  evil  ? 
Which,  notwithstanding,  I  do  not  in  any  way  believe 
that  the  Pope  would  have  done,  unless  he  had  been 
either  deceived  by  falsehood  or  overcome  by  im 
portunity.  In  fact,  unless  it  had  been  so,  would  he 
weakly  have  given  you  permission  to  sow  scandal,  to 
raise  up  schisms,  to  distress  friends,  to  trouble  the 
peace  of  brethren,  to  throw  into  confusion  their 
unity,  and,  above  all,  to  despise  your  own  Bishop  ? 
And  under  what  necessity  he  should  have  acted  thus 
I  have  no  need  to  say,  since  the  issue  of  the  matter 
sufficiently  shows.  For  I  see  with  grief  that  you 
have  gone  forth,  but  I  do  not  see  that  you  have 
profited  in  doing  so. 

10.  Thus,  in  your  opinion,  to  give  assent  to  so 
great  and  weighty  evils  is  to  show  obedience,  to 
render  assistance,  to  behave  with  moderation  and 
gentleness.  Do  you,  then,  endeavour  to  whitewash 
the  most  detestable  vices  under  the  name  of  virtues  ? 
Or  do  you  think  that  you  can  injure  virtues  without 
doing  injury  to  the  Lord  of  virtues  ?  You  hide  the 
vainest  presumption,  the  most  shameful  levity,  the 
cruellest  division  under  the  names  of  obedience, 
moderation,  gentleness,  and  you  soil  those  sacred 
names  with  the  vices  hidden  under  them.  May 
I  never  emulate  this  obedience :  such  moderation 
can  never  be  pleasing  to  me,  or  rather  seems  to 
resemble  molestation  ;  may  gentleness  of  this  kind 
ever  be  far  from  me.  Such  obedience  is  worse 
than  any  revolt :  such  moderation  passes  all  bounds. 
Shall  I  say  that  it  goes  beyond  them  or  does  not 
come  up  to  them  ?  Perhaps  it  would  be  more 


LETTER    II  15 

adequate  to  say  that  it  is  altogether  without  measure 
or  bound.  Of  what  kind  is  that  gentleness  which 
irritates  the  ears  of  all  the  hearers  ?  And  yet  I  beg 
you  to  show  some  sign  of  it  now  on  my  behalf. 
Since  you  are  so  patient  that  you  do  not  contend 
with  anybody,  even  with  one  who  tries  to  drag 
you  away  to  forbidden  ground,  permit  me,  too, 
I  beg  of  you,  to  treat  with  you  now  somewhat 
more  unrestrainedly.  Otherwise  I  have  merited 
much  evil  from  you  if  you  think  that  you  must 
resent  from  me  alone  what  you  are  accustomed 
to  resent  from  no  one  else. 

ii.  Well,  then,  I  call  your  own  conscience  to 
witness.  Was  it  willingly  or  unwillingly  that  you 
went  forth  ?  If  willingly,  then  it  was  not  from 
obedience.  If  unwillingly,  you  seem  to  have  had 
some  suspicion  of  the  order  which  you  carried  out 
with  reluctance.  But  when  there  is  suspicion,  there 
consideration  is  necessary.  But  you,  either  to  dis 
play  your  patience  or  to  exercise  it,  obeyed  without 
discussion,  and  suffered  yourself  to  be  taken  away, 
not  only  without  your  own  volition,  but  even  against 
your  conscience.  O,  patience  worthy  of  all  im 
patience  !  I  cannot,  I  confess,  help  being  angry 
with  this  most  questionable  patience.  You  saw 
that  he  was  a  scatterer  and  yet  you  followed 
him  ;  you  heard  him  directing  what  was  scanda 
lous  and  yet  you  obeyed  him !  True  patience 
consists  in  doing  or  in  suffering  what  is  dis 
pleasing  to  us,  not  what  is  forbidden  to  us.  A 
strange  thing !  You  listened  to  that  man  softly 
murmuring,  but  not  to  God  openly  protesting  in 
such  words  as  these,  like  a  clap  of  thunder  from 


1 6  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

heaven,  Woe  to  him  through  whom  scandal  cometJi  (S. 
Matt,  xviii.  7).  And  to  be  the  better  heard,  not 
only  does  the  Lord  Himself  cry  aloud,  but  His 
Blood  cries  with  a  terrible  voice  to  make  even  the 
deaf  hear.  Its  pouring  forth  is  its  cry.  Since  it 
was  poured  forth  for  the  children  of  God  who  were 
scattered  abroad  that  it  might  gather  them  together 
into  one,  it  justly  murmurs  against  the  scatterers. 
He  whose  constant  duty  it  is  to  collect  souls  to 
gether  hates  without  doubt  those  who  scatter  them. 
Loud  is  His  voice  and  piercing  which  calls  bodies 
from  their  graves  and  souls  from  Hades.  That 
trumpet  blast  calls  together  heaven  and  earth  and 
the  things  that  are  with  them,  giving  them  peace. 
Its  sound  has  gone  out  unto  the  whole  world,  and 
yet  it  has  not  been  able  to  burst  through  your  deaf 
ness  !  What  a  voice  of  power  and  magnificence 
when  the  words  are  spoken  :  Let  the  Lord  arise  and 
let  His  enemies  be  scattered  (Ps.  Ixviii.  2).  And  again  : 
Disperse  them  by  Thy  power,  O  Lord,  my  protector,  and 
put  them  doivn  (Ps.  lix.  12).  It  is  the  blood  of  Christ, 
brother  Adam,  which  raises  its  voice  as  a  sounding 
trumpet  on  behalf  of  pious  assemblies  against  wicked 
scatterers  ;  it  has  been  poured  forth  to  bring  to 
gether  those  who  were  dispersed,  and  it  threatens 
to  disperse  those  who  scatter.  If  you  do  not  hear 
His  voice,  then  listen  to  that  which  rolls  from  His 
side.  For  how  could  He  not  hear  His  own  blood 
who  heard  the  blood  of  Abel  ? 

12.  But  what  is  this  to  me?  you  say.  It  con 
cerns  one  whom  it  was  not  right  for  me  to  contra 
dict.  The  disciple  is  not  above  his  master  ;  and  it 
was  to  be  taught,  not  to  teach,  that  I  attached  myself 


LETTER    II  17 

to  him.  As  a  hearer,  it  became  me  to  follow,  not 
to  go  before,  my  preceptor.  O,  simple  one,  the 
Paulus  of  these  times  !  If  only  he  had  shown  him 
self  another  Antony,1  so  that  you  had  no  occasion  to 
discuss  the  least  word  that  fell  from  his  lips,  but  only 
to  obey  it  without  hesitation !  What  exemplary 
obedience  !  The  least  word,  an  iota,  which  drops 
from  the  lips  of  his  superiors  finds  him  obedient ! 
He  does  not  examine  what  is  enjoined,  he  is  content 
because  it  is  enjoined  ! 2  And  this  is  obedience  with 
out  delay.  If  this  is  a  right  view  of  duty,  then  with 
out  cause  do  we  read  in  the  Church  :  Prove  all  things, 
hold  fast  that  which  is  good  (i  Thess.  v.  21).  If  this 
is  a  right  view,  let  us  blot  out  of  the  book  of  the 
Gospel  Be  ye  wise  as  serpents,  for  the  words  following 
would  suffice,  and  harmless  as  doves  (S.  Matt.  x.  16). 
I  do  not  say  that  inferiors  are  to  make  themselves 
judges  of  the  orders  of  those  set  over  them,  in  which 
it  may  be  taken  for  granted  that  nothing  is  ordered 
contrary  to  the  Divine  laws,  but  I  assert  that  pru 
dence  also  is  necessary  to  notice  if  anything  does  so 
contradict,  and  freedom  firmly  to  pronounce  against 
these.  But  you  reply,  I  have  nothing  to  do  with 
examining  what  he  orders  ;  it  is  his  duty  to  do  that 
before  ordering.  Tell  me,  I  pray  you,  if  a  sword 
were  put  into  your  hand  and  he  bade  you  turn  it 

1  Antony,  who  was  called  by  S.  Athanasius  "  the  founder  of  asceticism," 
and  "  a  model  for  monks,"  is  called  "  Abbas,"  though  he  was  more  pro 
perly  a  hermit,  and  always  refused  to  take  oversight  of  a  monastery.  He 
was  born  at  Coma,  in  Upper  Egypt,  about  A.D.  250.  The  Paulus  here 
mentioned  was  a  disciple  of  Antony.  He  was  remarkable  for  his  childlike 
docility,  on  account  of  which  he  was  surnamed  Simplex,  and  notwithstand 
ing  a  certain  dulness  of  intellect  seems  to  have  shown  sometimes  remark 
able  discernment  of  character. — [E.] 

*  This  clause  is  wanting  in  some  MSS. 

B 


1 8  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

against  his  throat,  would  you  obey  ?  Or  if  he 
ordered  you  to  fling  yourself  headlong  into  the  fire, 
or  into  the  water,  would  you  do  it  ?  If  you  did  not 
even  hinder  him  from  such  acts  as  these  to  the  best 
of  your  ability,  would  not  you  be  held  guilty  of  the 
crime  of  homicide  ?  Come,  then,  see  that  you  have 
done  nothing  but  co-operate  in  his  crime  under  the 
pretext  of  obedience.  Do  you  not  know  that  it  has 
been  said  by  a  certain  person  (for  you  would  not, 
perhaps,  give  credence  to  me)  that  it  would  be 
better  to  be  sunk  in  the  depths  of  the  sea  than  to 
give  scandals  (S.  Matt,  xviii.  6).  Why  has  He  said  this 
unless  that  He  wished  to  signify  that  in  comparison 
to  the  terrible  punishments  that  are  reserved  for  the 
scandalous,  temporal  death  would  seem  scarcely  a 
punishment  but  an  advantage  ?  Why,  then,  did 
you  help  him  to  make  a  scandal  ?  For  you  did 
so  in  following  and  obeying  him.  Would  it  not 
have  been  better,  according  to  the  declaration  of 
the  Truth  I  have  quoted,  to  hang  a  millstone  from 
his  neck  and  so  to  plunge  him  in  the  depth  of  the 
sea  ?  What  then  ?  You  that  were  so  obedient  a 
disciple,  who  could  not  bear  that  he,  your  father 
and  master,  should  be  separated  from  you  for  a 
single  instant,  for  a  foot  breadth  (as  it  is  said),  you 
have  not  hesitated  to  fall  into  the  ditch  behind  him 
with  your  eyes  wide  open,  like  another  Balaam  ? 
Did  you  think  that  you  were  labouring  for  his 
happiness  when  you  showed  toward  him  an  obe 
dience  more  hurtful  for  him  than  death  ?  Truly, 
now,  I  experience  how  true  is  that  saying  :  A  man's 
foes  shall  be  they  of  his  own  household  (Micah  vii.  6). 
If  you  see  and  feel  this,  do  you  not  groan  if  you 


LETTER    II  19 

perceive  what  you  have  done  ?  And  if  you  do 
perceive,  do  you  not  tremble  ?  For,  indeed,  your 
obedience  (it  is  not  my  judgment,  but  that  of  the 
Truth  Himself)  has  been  worse  for  him  than  death. 

13.  If  you  are  now  convinced  of  this,  I  do  not 
know  how  you  can  help  trembling  and  hastening  to 
repair  your  fault.  Otherwise  what  conscience  of 
wrong  will  you  carry  hence  to  that  terrible  tribunal 
where  the  Judge  will  not  need  witness,  where  the 
Truth  will  scan  even  purposes,  and  penetrate  in 
search  of  faults  to  the  hidden  places  of  the  heart, 
where,  in  short,  that  Divine  look  will  try  the  most 
secret  recesses  of  minds,  and  at  the  sudden  shining 
of  that  Sun  of  justice  all  the  windings  of  human 
souls  will  be  spread  open  and  give  to  the  light 
whatever,  whether  good  or  evil,  they  were  hiding  ? 
Then,  brother  Adam,  those  who  commit  a  sin,  and 
those  who  consent  to  it  will  be  punished  with  equal 
chastisement.  Then  thieves  and  the  associates  of 
thieves  will  listen  to  a  similar  sentence  ;  the  seducers 
and  the  seduced  will  undergo  an  equal  judgment. 
Cease,  then,  to  say  again,  What  is  it  to  me  ?  Let 
him  see  to  it.  Can  you  touch  pitch  and  say  I  am 
not  defiled  ?  Can  you  hide  fire  in  your  bosom  and 
not  be  burned  ?  Can  you  have  your  portion  with 
adulterers  without  resembling  them  in  some  respect  ? 
Isaiah  did  not  think  so,  for  he  reproached  himself 
not  only  because  he  was  himself  unclean,  but  also 
because  he  was  the  companion  of  the  unclean  : 
Because,  he  says,  I  am  a  man  of  unclean  lips  and  I  dwell 
in  the  midst  of  a  people  oj  unclean  lips  (Isaiah  vi.  5).  For 
he  blames  himself  not  because  he  dwelt  among 
sinners,  but  because  he  has  not  condemned  their 


20  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

sins.  For,  so  he  says  :  Woe  is  me  because  I  have  been 
silent  (Isaiah  vi.  5,  VULG.).  But  when  did  he  consent 
to  the  doing  of  evil,  that  he  blames  himself  not  to 
have  condemned  it  in  others  ?  And  did  not  David 
also  feel  that  he  was  defiled  by  the  contact  of  sin 
when  he  said  :  With  men  that  work  iniquity,  and  I  will 
not  communicate  with  their  chosen  friends  (Ps.  cxl.  4, 
VULG.).  Or  when  he  made  this  prayer  :  Cleanse  me 
O  Lord  from  my  secret  sins,  and  spare  Thy  servaut  from 
the  offences  of  others  (Ps.  xix.  12-13,  VULG.).  Where 
fore  he  strove  to  avoid  the  society  of  sinners  in  order 
not  to  share  in  their  faults.  For  he  says  farther : 
/  have  not  sat  in  the  council  of  vanity,  and  I  will  not  enter 
into  the  company  of  those  who  do  unjustly  (Ps.  xxv.  4—5, 
VULG.).  And  then  he  adds  :  I  have  hated  the  congrega 
tion  of  evil  doers,  and  will  not  sit  with  the  wicked  (ibid.). 
Finally,  hear  the  counsel  of  the  wise  man  :  My  son, 
if  sinners  entice  thee,  consent  thou  not  (Prov.  i.  10). 

14.  Have  you,  then,  against  these  and  innumerable 
other  and  similar  testimonies  of  the  truth,  thought 
that  you  ought  to  obey  anybody?  O,  odious  per 
versity  !  The  virtue  of  obedience  which  always  wars 
on  behalf  of  truth,  is  arrayed  against  truth.  Happy 
the  disobedience  of  brother  Henry,  who  soon  re 
penting  of  his  error  and  retracing  his  steps,  has  the 
happiness  of  not  persisting  longer  in  such  an  obedi 
ence.  The  fruits  of  disobedience  are  sweeter  and  to 
be  preferred  [to  this]  ;  and  now  he  tastes  them  with 
a  good  conscience  in  the  peaceable  and  constant 
practice  of  the  duties  of  his  profession  in  the  midst 
of  his  brethren,  and  in  the  bosom  of  the  Order  to 
which  he  has  devoted  himself ;  while  some  of  his 
former  companions  are  breaking  the  hearts  of  their 


LETTER    II  21 

ancient  brethren  by  the  scandals  they  are  making  ! 
Whose  disobedience  of  slackness  and  omission,  if  the 
choice  were  given  me,  I  would  even  prefer,  with  his 
sense  of  penitence,  than  the  punctilious  obedience  of 
such  as  these,  with  scandal.  For  I  consider  that 
he  does  better  for  the  keeping  unity  in  the  bond  of 
peace  who  obeys  charity,  though  disobedient  to  his 
abbot,  than  those  who  so  defer  to  a  single  man  as  to 
prefer  one  to  the  whole  body.  I  might  boldly  add 
even  this,  that  it  is  preferable  to  risk  disobedience  to 
one  person  than  to  endanger  the  vows  of  our  own 
profession  and  all  the  other  advantages  of  religion. 

15.  Since,  not  to  speak  of  other  obligations,  there 
are  two  principal  ones  to  be  observed  by  all  dwellers 
in  a  monastery,  obedience  to  the  abbot  and  stability 
or  constancy.     But  one   of  these   ought  not  to  be 
fulfilled  to  the  prejudice  of  the  other,  so  that  you 
should   thus  show  yourself   constant   in  your  place 
as  not  to  be  above  being  subject  to  the  superior,  and 
so  obey  the  superior  as  not  to  lose  constancy.     Thus 
if  you  would  disapprove  of  a  monk,  however  constant 
in  his  cloister,  who  was  too  proud  to  obey  the  orders 
of  his  superior,  can  you  wonder  that  we  blame  an 
obedience  which  served  you  as  the  cause  or  occasion 
for  deserting  your  place,  especially  when  in  making 
a  religious  profession  constancy  is  vowed  in  such  a 
way  as  not  to  be  at  all  subordinated  to  the  will  of  the 
abbot  under  whom  a  monk  may  be  placed. 

1 6.  But  perhaps  you  may  turn  what  I  say  against 
me,  asking  what    I    have  done  with   the   constancy 
which   ought  to  have   kept  me  at  Citeaux,  whereas 
I   now  dwell  elsewhere.     To  which    I   reply,    I   am, 
indeed,   a  Cistercian   monk  professed  in   that  place, 


22  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

and  was  sent  forth  by  my  abbot  to  where  I  now 
dwell,  but  sent  forth  in  peace  without  scandal,  with 
out  disorder,  according  to  our  usages  and  constitu 
tions.  As  long,  therefore,  as  I  persevere  in  the  same 
peace  and  concord  in  which  I  was  sent  forth,  as  long 
as  I  stand  fast  in  unity,  I  do  not  prefer  my  private 
interests  to  those  of  the  community.  I  remain 
peaceful  and  obedient  in  the  place  where  I  have 
been  posted.  I  say  that  my  conscience  is  at  peace, 
because  I  observe  faithfully  the  stability  I  have  pro 
mised.  How  do  I  compromise  my  vow  of  stability 
when  I  do  not  break  the  bond  of  concord,  nor  desert 
the  firm  ground  of  peace  ?  If  obedience  keeps  my 
body  far  distant  from  Citeaux,  the  offering  of  the 
same  devotions  and  a  manner  of  life  in  every  way 
similar  hold  my  spirit  always  present  there.  But 
the  day  on  which  I  shall  begin  to  live,  according 
to  other  laws  (which  may  God  avert),  to  practise 
other  customs,  to  perform  different  observances,  to 
introduce  novelties  and  customs  from  without,  I  shall 
be  a  transgressor  of  my  vows,  and  I  shall  no  longer 
think  that  I  am  observing  the  constancy  that  I  pro 
mised.  I  say,  then,  that  an  abbot  ought  to  be 
obeyed  in  all  things,  but  saving  the  oath  of  the 
Order.  But  you  having  made  profession,  according  to 
the  Rule  of  S.  Benedict,  where  you  promised  obedi 
ence,  you  promised  also  constancy.  And  if  you  have, 
indeed,  obeyed,  but  have  not  been  constant  by  offend 
ing  in  one  point,  you  are  made  an  offender  in  all, 
and  if  in  all,  then  in  obedience  itself. 

17.  Do  you  see,  then,  the  proper  scope  of  your 
obedience  ?  How  can  it  excuse  your  want  of  con 
stancy,  which  is  not  even  of  weight  to  justify  itself  ? 


LETTER    II  23 

Every  one  knows  that  a  person  makes  his  profession 
solemnly  and  regularly  in  the  presence  of  the  abbot. 
That  profession  is  made,  therefore,  in  his  presence 
only,  not  at  his  discretion  also.  The  abbot  is  em 
ployed  as  the  witness,  and  not  the  arbiter  of  the 
profession  ;  the  helper  of  its  fulfilment,  not  an 
assistant  to  the  breach  of  it  ;  to  punish  and  not  to 
authorise  bad  faith.  What,  then  ?  Do  I  place  in 
the  hand  of  the  abbot  the  vows  that  I  have  taken, 
without  exception  ratified  by  my  mouth  and  signed 
by  my  hand  in  presence  of  God  and  His  Saints? 
Do  I  not  hear  out  of  the  Rule  (Rule  of  S.  Benedict, 
C.  58)  that  if  I  ever  do  otherwise  I  shall  be  con 
demned  by  God,  whom  I  have  mocked  ?  If  my 
abbot  or  even  an  angel  from  heaven  should  order 
me  to  do  something  contrary  to  my  vow,  I  would 
boldly  refuse  an  obedience  of  this  kind,  which  would 
make  me  a  transgressor  of  my  own  oath  and  make 
me  swear  falsely  by  the  name  of  my  God,  for  I  know, 
according  to  the  truth  of  Scripture,  that  out  of 
my  own  mouth  I  must  either  be  condemned  or 
justified  (S.  Luke  xix.  22),  and  because  The  mouth 
which  lies  slays  the  soul  (Wisd.  i.  1 1),  and  that  we  chant 
with  truth  before  God,  Thou  wilt  destroy  all  those  who 
speak  falsehood  (Ps.  v.  6),  and  because  every  one  shall 
bear  his  own  burden  (Gal.  vi.  5),  and  every  one  shall  give 
account  of  himself  to  God  (Rom.  xiv.  12).  If  it  were 
otherwise  with  me,  with  what  front  could  I  dare  to 
lie  in  the  presence  of  God  and  His  angels,  when 
singing  that  verse  from  the  Psalm :  /  will  render  unto 
Thee  my  vows,  which  my  lips  have  uttered  (Ps.  Ivi. 

'3»  14)- 

In  fact,  the  abbot  himself  ought  to  consider  the 


*4  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

advice  which  the  Rule  gives,  addressing  itself  to  him 
in  particular,  "  that  he  should  maintain  the  present 
Rule  in  all  respects,"  and  also,  which  is  universally 
directed,  and  no  exception  made,  "  that  all  should 
follow  the  Rule  as  guide  and  mistress,  nor  is  it  to  be 
rashly  deviated  from  by  any "  (Rule  of  S.  Bened. 
capp.  Ixiv.  3).  Thus  I  have  determined  to  follow 
him  as  master  always  and  everywhere,  but  on  the 
condition  never  to  deviate  from  the  authority  of  the 
Rule,  which,  as  he  himself  is  witness,  I  have  sworn 
and  determined  to  keep. 

1 8.  Let  me,  briefly,  treat  another  objection  which 
may  possibly  be  made  to  me,  and  I  will  bring  to  a 
close  an  epistle  which  is  already  too  long.  It  seems 
that  I  may  be  reproached  with  acting  otherwise  than 
I  speak.  For  I  may  be  asked,  if  I  condemn  those 
who  have  deserted  their  monastery,  not  only  with 
the  consent  of  their  abbot,  but  at  his  command,  on 
what  principle  do  I  receive  and  retain  those  who 
from  other  monasteries,  who,  breaking  their  vow  of 
constancy  and  contemning  the  authority  of  their 
superiors,  come  to  our  Order  ?  To  which  my  reply 
will  be  brief,  but  dangerous  ;  for  I  fear  that  what 
I  shall  say  will  displease  certain  persons.  But  I  fear 
still  more  lest  by  concealing  the  truth  I  should  sing 
untruly  in  the  Church  those  words  of  the  Psalmist : 
/  have  not  hid  my  righteousness  within  my  heart :  my  talk 
hath  been  of  Thy  truth  and  of  Thy  salvation  (Ps.  xl.  12).  I 
receive  them,  then,  for  this  reason,  because  I  do  not 
consider  that  they  are  wrong  to  quit  the  monastery, 
in  which  they  were  able,  indeed,  to  make  vows  to 
God,  but  by  no  means  to  perform  them,  to  enter 
into  another  house  where  they  may  better  serve 


LETTER    II  25 

God,  Who  is  everywhere,  and  who  repair  the  wrong 
done  by  the  breach  of  their  vow  of  constancy  by  the 
perfect  performance  of  all  other  duties  of  the  religious 
life.  If  this  displeasse  any  one,  and  he  murmurs 
against  a  man  thus  seeking  his  own  salvation,  the 
Author  of  salvation  Himself  shall  reply  for  him  :  Is 
thine  eye  evil  because  he  is  good?  (S.  Matt.  xx.  15). 
Whosoever  thou  art  who  enviest  the  salvation  of 
another,  care  rather  for  thine  own.  Dost  thou  not 
know  that  by  the  envy  of  the  devil  death  entered  into  the 
world?  (Wisd.  ii.  24).  Take  heed,  therefore,  to  thy 
self.  For  if  there  is  envy  there  is  death  ;  surely,  thou 
canst  not  both  be  envious  and  live.  Why  seek  a 
quarrel  with  thy  brother,  since  he  seeks  only  the  best 
means  of  fulfilling  the  vows  which  he  has  made  ?  If 
the  man  seeks  in  what  place  or  in  what  manner  he 
may  best  discharge  what  he  has  promised  to  God, 
what  wrong  has  he  done  to  you  ?  Perhaps,  if  you 
held  him  your  debtor  for  a  sum  of  money,  however 
small,  you  would  oblige  him  to  compass  sea  and  dry 
land  until  he  rendered  you  the  whole  debt,  even  to 
the  last  farthing.  What,  then,  has  your  God  deserved 
from  you  that  you  are  not  willing  for  Him,  too,  to 
receive  what  is  due  ?  But  in  envying  one  you  render 
two  hostile  ;  since  you  are  trying  both  to  defraud  the 
lord  of  the  service  due  from  his  servant,  and  to 
deprive  the  servant  of  the  favour  of  his  lord. 
Wherefore  do  you  not  imitate  him,  and  yourself 
discharge  what  is  due  from  you  ?  Do  you  think 
that  your  debt,  too,  will  not  be  required  of  you  ? 
Or  do  you  not  rather  fear  to  irritate  God  against  you 
the  more  by  wickedly  saying  in  your  heart,  He  will 
not  require  it  ? 


26  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

19.  What,  you  say  to  me,  do  you  then  condemn 
all  who  do  not  do  likewise  ?     No  ;  but  hear  what  I  do 
think  about  them,  and  do  not  make  futile  accusations. 
Why   do   you   wish   to    make    me    odious    to   many 
thousands  of  holy  men,  who,  under  the  same  profes 
sion   as   I,   though   not  living  in  the  same  manner, 
either  live  holily  or  have  died  blessed  deaths  ?     I  do 
not  fail  to  remember  that  God  has  left  to  Himself 
seven  thousand  men  who  had  not  bowed  the  knee 
before  Baal  (i  Kings  xix.  18).     Listen  to  me,  then, 
man  envious  and  calumnious.     I   have  said  that   I 
think    men    coming   to    us   from   other    monasteries 
ought  to  be  received.      Have  I  blamed  those  who  do 
not  come  ?     The  one  class   I   excuse,  but  I  do  not 
accuse  the  other.     It   is   only  the  envious  whom    I 
cannot  excuse,  nor,  indeed,  am   I  willing  to   do   so. 
These  being  excepted,  I  think  that  if  any  others  wish 
to  pass  to  a  stricter  Rule,  but  fear  to  do  so  because 
of  scandal,  or  are  hindered  by  some  bodily  weakness, 
do  not  sin,  provided  that  they  study  to  live  a  holy, 
pious,   and  regulated   life   in   the  place   where  they 
are.     For  if  by  the  custom  of  their  monastery  relaxa 
tions  of  the  Rule  have  been  introduced,  either  that 
very  charity,  in  which  they  hesitate  to  remove  to  a 
better  on  account  of  causing  scandal,  may,  perhaps, 
be   an   excuse   for    this  ;    according    to   that   saying 
Charity  covers  a  multitude  of  sins  (i   Peter  iv.  8),  or  the 
humility   in    which    one   conscious    of    his    infirmity 
regards  himself  as  imperfect,  for  it  is  said  God  gives 
grace  unto  the  humble  (S.  James  iv.  6). 

20.  Many  things  I  have  written,  dear  brother,  and, 
perhaps,  it  was  not  needful  to  use  so  many  words,  for 
an  intelligence  such  as  yours,  quick  in  understanding 


LETTER    III  27 

what  is  said,  and  a  will  well-disposed  to  follow  good 
counsel.  But  although  I  have  written  specially  to 
you,  yet  so  many  words  need  not  have  been  written 
on  your  account,  but  for  those  for  whom  they  may 
be  needful.  But  I  warn  you,  as  my  own  former  and 
intimate  friend,  in  few  words  and  with  all  confidence, 
not  to  keep  longer  in  suspense,  at  the  great  peril  of 
your  own  soul,  the  souls  of  those  who  are  desiring 
and  awaiting  your  return.  You  hold  now  in  your 
hands  (if  I  do  not  mistake)  both  your  own  eternal 
life  and  death,  and  theirs  who  are  with  you  ;  for  I 
judge  that  whatever  you  decide  or  do  they  will  do 
also.  Otherwise,  announce  to  them  the  grave  judg 
ment  which  has  been  rightly  passed  with  respect  to 
them  by  all  the  Abbots  of  our  Order.  Those  who 
return  shall  live,  those  who  resist  shall  die. 


LETTER   III   (A.D    1131) 
To  BRUNO/  ARCHBISHOP  ELECT  OF  COLOGNE 

Bernard  having  been  consulted  by  Bruno  as  to  whether  he  ought 
to  accept  the  See  of  Cologne,  so  replies  as  to  hold  him  in 
suspense,  and  render  him  in  awe  of  the  burden  of  so  great 
a  charge.  He  advises  him  to  seek  counsel  of  God  in 
prayer. 

i.  You  seek  counsel  from  me,  most  illustrious 
Bruno,  as  to  whether  you  ought  to  accept  the 
Episcopate,  to  which  it  is  desired  to  advance  you. 
What  mortal  can  presume  to  decide  this  for  you  ? 

1  Bruno,  son  of  Englebert,  Count  of  AUena,  was  consecrated,  in  1132. 


28  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

If  God  calls  you,  who  can  dare  to  dissuade  you,  but 
if  He  does  not  call  you,  who  may  counsel  you  to 
draw  near  ?  Whether  the  calling  is  of  God  or  not 
who  can  know,  except  the  Spirit,  who  searcheth  even 
the  deep  things  of  God,  or  one  to  whom  God  Himself 
has  revealed  it  ?  That  which  renders  advice  still 
more  doubtful  is  the  humble,  but  still  terrible,  con 
fession  in  your  letter,  in  which  you  accuse  your  own 
past  life  gravely,  but,  as  I  fully  believe,  in  sincerity 
and  truth.  And  it  is  undeniable  that  such  a  life  is 
unworthy  of  a  function  so  holy  and  exalted.  On  the 
other  hand,  you  are  very  right  to  fear  (and  I  fear  the 
same  with  you)  if,  because  of  the  unworthiness  you 
feel,  you  fail  to  make  profitable  use  of  the  talent  of 
knowledge  committed  to  you,  unless  you  could, 
perhaps,  find  another  way,  less  abundant,  perhaps, 
but  also  less  perilous,  of  making  increase  from  it.  I 
tremble,  I  confess  it,  for  I  ought  to  say  to  you  as  to 
myself  what  I  feel :  I  tremble,  I  say,  at  the  thought 
of  the  state  whence,  and  that  whither,  you  are  called, 
especially  since  no  period  of  penitence  has  intervened 
to  prepare  you  for  the  perilous  transition  from  the 
one  to  the  other.  And,  indeed,  the  right  order 
requires  that  you  should  study  to  care  for  your  own 
conscience  before  charging  yourself  with  the  care  of 
those  of  others.  That  is  the  first  step  of  piety,  of 
which  it  is  written,  To  pity  thine  own  soul  is  pleasing 
unto  the  Lord  (Ecclus.  xxx.  23).  It  is  from  this  first 
step  that  a  well-ordered  charity  proceeds  by  a  straight 
path  to  the  love  of  one's  neighbour,  for  the  precept 
is  to  love  him  as  ourselves.  But  if  you  are  about  to 
love  the  souls  that  would  be  confided  to  you  as  you 
have  loved  your  own  hitherto,  I  would  prefer  not  to 


LETTER    III  29 

be  confided  rather  than  be  so  loved.  But  if  you 
shall  have  first  learned  to  love  yourself  then  you  will 
know,  perhaps,  how  you  should  love  me. 

2.  But  what  if  God  should  quicken   His  grace  and 
multiply   His  mercy  upon  you,  and  His  clemency  is 
able  more  quickly  to  replace  the  soul  in  a  state  of 
grace  than  daily  penitence  ?     Blessed,  indeed,  is  he 
unto  whom  the  Lord  will  not  impute  sin  (Ps.  xxxii.  2),  for 
who  shall  bring  accusation  against  the  elect  of  God  ? 
If  God  justifies,  who  is  he  that  condemns  ?    This  short 
road  to  salvation  that  holy  thief  attained,  who  in  one 
and  the  same  day  both   confessed  his  iniquities  and 
entered  into  glory.     He  was  content  to  pass  by  the 
cross  as  by  a  short  bridge  from  the  religion  of  death1 
unto  the  land  of  the  living,  and  from  this  foul  mire 
into  the  paradise  of  joy  (S.   Luke  xxiii.  43).     This 
sudden  remedy  of  piety  that  sinful  woman  happily 
obtained,  in  whose  soul  grace  of  a  sudden  began  to 
abound,  where  offences  had  so  abounded.     Without 
much   labour   of  penitence  her  sins  were  pardoned, 
because  she  loved  much  (S.  Luke  vii.  37-50),  and  in 
a  short  time  she  merited  to  receive  that  amplitude  of 
charity  which,  as  it  is  written,  covers  the  multitude  of 
sins  (i    S.    Peter   iv.    8).      This   double   benefit   and 
most  rapid  goodness  also  that  paralytic  in  the  Gospel 
experienced,  being  cured  first  in  the  soul,  then  in  the 
body. 

3.  But  it  is  one  thing  to  obtain  the  speedy  forgive 
ness  of  sins,  and  another  to  be  borne  in  a  brief  space 
from  the  sins  themselves  to  the  badges  (fillets)  of  high 
dignities  in   the   Church.     Yet    I    see  that  Matthew 
from  the  receipt  of  custom  was  raised  to  the  supreme 

1  Unlikcness. 


30  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

honour  of  the  Apostolate.  But  this  again  troubles 
me,  because  he  did  not  hear  with  the  other  Apostles 
the  charge,  Go  ye  into  all  the  world  and  preach  the  Gospel 
to  every  creature  (S.  Mark  xvi.  15),  until  after  he  had 
done  penitence,  accompanying  the  Lord  whitherso 
ever  He  went,  bearing  long  privation  and  remaining 
with  Him  in  His  temptations.  I  am  not  greatly 
reassured,  though  S.  Ambrose  was  taken  from  the 
judge's  tribunal  to  the  priesthood,  because  he  had 
from  a  boy  led  a  pure  and  clean  life,  though  in  the 
world,  and  then  he  endeavoured  to  avoid  the  Episco 
pate  even  by  flight  and  by  hiding  himself  and  many 
other  means.  Again,  if  Saul  also  was  suddenly 
changed  into  Paul,  a  vessel  of  election,  the  Doctor 
of  the  Gentiles,  and  this  be  adduced  as  an  example, 
it  entirely  destroys  the  similarity  of  the  two  cases  to 
observe  that  he,  therefore,  obtained  mercy  because, 
as  he  himself  says,  he  sinned  ignorantly  in  unbelief. 
Besides,  if  such  incidents,  done  for  good  and  useful 
purposes,  can  be  cited,  it  should  be,  not  as  examples, 
but  as  marvels,  and  it  can  be  truly  said  of  them, 
This  is  the  change  of  the  right  hand  of  the  Highest  (Ps. 
Ixxvii.  10). 

4.  In  the  meantime  let  these  provisional  replies  to 
your  queries  suffice.  If  I  do  not  express  a  decisive 
opinion,  it  is  because  I  do  not  myself  feel  assured. 
This  must  needs  be  the  case,  for  the  gift  of  prophecy 
and  of  wisdom  only  could  resolve  your  doubt.  For 
who  could  draw  clear  water  out  of  a  muddy  pool  ? 
Yet  there  is  one  thing  that  I  can  do  for  a  friend  with 
out  danger,  and  with  the  assurance  of  a  good  result  ; 
that  is  to  offer  to  God  my  petition  that  He  will  assist 
you  in  this  matter.  Leaving,  therefore,  to  Him  the 


LETTER    IV  31 

secret  things  of  His  Providence,  of  which  we  are 
ignorant,  I  will  beg  Him,  with  humble  prayer  and 
earnest  supplication,  that  He  will  work  in  you  and 
with  respect  to  you  that  which  shall  be  for  His  glory, 
and  at  the  same  time  for  your  good.  And  you  have 
also  the  Lord  Norbert,1  whom  you  may  conveniently 
consult  in  person  on  all  such  subjects.  For  that  good 
man  is  more  fitted  than  I  to  explain  the  mysterious 
acts  of  Providence,  as  he  is  nearer  to  God  by  his 
holiness. 


LETTER  IV 

To  THE  PRIOR  AND  MONKS  OF  THE  GRAND 
CHARTREUSE 

He  commends  himself  to  their  prayers. 

To  the  very  dear  Lord  and  Reverend  father  Guigues, 
Prior  of  the  Grande  Chartreuse,  and  to  the  holy 
brethren  who  are  with  him,  Brother  Bernard  of 
Clairvaux  offers  his  humble  service. 

In  the  first  place,  when  lately  I  approached  your 
parts,  I  was  prevented  by  unfavourable  circumstances 
from  coming  to  see  you  and  to  make  your  acquaint 
ance  ;  and  although  my  excuse  may  perhaps  be 
satisfactory  to  you,  I  am  not  able,  I  confess,  to 
pardon  myself  for  missing  the  opportunity.  It  is  a 
vexation  to  me  that  my  occupations  brought  it  about, 
not  that  I  should  neglect  to  come  to  see  you,  but  that 
I  was  unable  to  do  so.  This  I  frequently  have  to 

1  The  founder  of  the  Praemonstratensian  Order.  See  respecting  him 
Letter  Ivi. 


32  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

endure,  and  therefore  my  anger  is  frequently  ex 
cited.  Would  that  I  were  worthy  to  receive  the 
sympathy  of  all  my  kind  friends.  Otherwise  I  shall 
be  doubly  unhappy  if  my  disappointment  does  not 
excite  your  pity.  But  I  give  you  an  opportunity,  my 
brethren,  of  exercising  brotherly  compassion  towards 
me,  not  that  I  merit  it.  Pity  me  not  because  I  am 
worthy,  but  because  I  am  poor  and  needy.  Justice 
inquires  into  the  merit  of  the  suppliant,  but  mercy 
only  looks  to  his  unhappiness.  True  mercy  does  not 
judge,  but  feels  ;  does  not  discuss  the  occasion  which 
presents  itself,  but  seizes  it.  When  affection  calls  us, 
reason  is  silent.  When  Samuel  wept  over  Saul  it  was 
by  a  feeling  of  pity,  and  not  of  approval  (i  Samuel 
xv.  13).  David  shed  tears  over  his  parricidal  son, 
and  although  they  were  profitless,  yet  they  were 
pious.  Therefore  do  ye  pity  me  (because  I  need  it, 
not  because  I  merit  it),  ye  who  have  obtained  from 
God  the  grace  to  serve  Him  without  fear,  far  from 
the  tumults  of  the  world  from  which  ye  are  freed. 
Happy  those  whom  He  has  hidden  in  His  tabernacle 
in  the  day  of  evil  men  ;  they  shall  trust  in  the  shadow 
of  His  wings  until  the  iniquity  be  overpast  As  for 
me,  poor,  unhappy,  and  miserable,  labour  is  my 
portion.  I  seem  to  be  as  a  little  unfledged  bird 
almost  constantly  out  of  the  shelter  of  its  nest,  ex 
posed  to  wind  and  tempest.  I  am  troubled,  and  I 
stagger  like  a  drunken  man,  and  my  whole  conscience 
is  gnawed  with  care.  Pity  me,  then  ;  for  although 
I  do  not  merit  pity  I  need  it,  as  I  have  said. 


LETTER    V  33 

LETTER  V    (circa  A.D.    1127) 
To  PETER,  CARDINAL  DEACON 

He  excuses  himelf  that  he  has  not  come  when  summoned f  and 
replies  respecting  some  of  his  writings  which  are  asked  for. 

To  the  venerable  lord  PETER,  Cardinal  Deacon  of 
the  Roman  Church,  Brother  BERNARD  wishes  health 
and  entire  devotedness. 

That  I  have  not  come  to  you  as  you  commanded 
has  been  caused  not  by  my  sloth,  but  by  a  graver 
reason.  It  is  that,  if  you  will  permit  me  to  say  so 
with  all  the  respect  which  is  due  to  you,  and  all 
good  men,  I  have  taken  a  resolution  not  again  to  go 
out  of  my  monastery,  unless  for  precise  causes  ;  and 
I  see  at  present  nothing  of  that  kind  which  would 
permit  me  to  carry  out  your  wish,  and  gratify  my 
own  by  coming  to  you.  But  you,  what  are  you 
doing  with  respect  to  that  promise  of  coming  here 
which  your  former  letter  contained  ?  We  are  await 
ing  it  still.  What  the  writings  were,  which  you  had 
before  ordered  to  be  prepared  for  you  [otherwise, 
for  us]  and  now  ask  for,  I  am  absolutely  ignorant, 
and,  therefore,  I  have  done  nothing.  For  I  do 
not  remember  to  have  written  any  book  on  morals 
which  I  should  think  worthy  of  the  attention  of  your 
Excellency. 

Some  of  the  brethren  have  drawn  up  in  their  own 
way  certain  fragments  of  my  instructions  as  they  have 
heard  them.  Of  whom  one  is  conveniently  near  to 
you,  viz.,Gebuin,  Precentor  and  Archdeacon  of  Troyes. 

c 


34  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

You  can  easily,  if  you  wish,  obtain  of  him  the  notes 
drawn  up  by  him.  Yet  if  your  occupation  would 
leave  you  the  time,  and  you  should  think  fit  to  pay 
to  your  humble  sons  the  visit  which  you  promised, 
and  which  they  have  been  expecting,  I  would  do  all 
in  my  power  to  give  you  satisfaction,  if  I  have  in  my 
writings  anything  which  could  please  you,  or  if  I 
were  able  to  compose  any  work  which  should  seem 
worthy  of  you ;  for  I  greatly  esteem  your  high  re 
putation.  I  respect  that  care  and  zeal  about  holy 
things  which  I  have  heard  of  in  you,  and  I  should 
regard  myself  as  very  happy  if  these  unpolished 
writings,  which  are  a  part  of  my  duty,  should  be  in 
any  respect  agreeable  to  you. 


LETTER  VI  (circa  A.D.   1127) 
To  THE  SAME 

He  protests  against  the  reputation  for  holiness  which  is  attributed 
to  him,  and  promises  to  communicate  the  treatises  which  he 
has  written. 

i.  Even  if  I  should  give  myself  to  you  entirely 
that  would  be  too  little  a  thing  still  in  my  eyes,  to 
have  recompensed  towards  you  even  the  half  of  the 
kindly  feeling  which  you  express  towards  my 
humility.  I  congratulate  myself,  indeed,  on  the 
honour  which  you  have  done  me ;  but  my  joy,  I 
confess,  is  tempered  by  the  thought  that  it  is  not 
anything  I  have  accomplished,  but  only  an  opinion 
of  my  merit  which  has  brought  me  this  favour.  I 


LETTER    VI  35 

should  be  greatly  ashamed  to  permit  myself  in  vain 
complacency  when  I  feel  assured  that  what  is  loved 
or  respected  in  me  is  not,  indeed,  what  I  am,  but 
what  I  am  thought  to  be  ;  for  when  I  am  thus  loved 
it  is  not  then  I  that  am  loved,  but  something  in  me, 
I  know  not  what,  and  which  is  not  me,  is  loved  in 
my  stead.  I  say  that  I  know  not,  but,  to  speak  more 
truly,  I  know  very  well  that  it  is  nothing.  For  what 
ever  is  thought  to  exist,  and  does  not,  is  nothing. 
The  love  and  he  who  feels  it  is  real  enough,  but  the 
object  of  the  love  does  not  exist.  That  such  should 
be  capable  of  inspiring  love  is  wonderful,  but  still 
more  it  is  regrettable.  It  is  from  that  we  are  able  to 
feel  whence  and  whither  we  go,  what  we  have  lost, 
what  we  find.  By  remaining  united  to  Him,  who  is 
the  real  Being,  and  who  is  always  happy,  we  also 
shall  attain  a  continued  and  happy  existence.  By 
remaining  united  to  Him,  I  said ;  that  is,  not  only 
by  knowledge,  but  by  love.  For  certain  of  the  sons 
of  Adam  when  they  had  known  God,  glorified  Him  not  as 
God,  nor  were  thankful,  but  became  vain  in  their  imagina 
tions  (Rom.  i.  21).  Rightly,  then,  were  their  foolish 
hearts  darkened,  because  since  they  recognised  the 
truth  and  despised  it,  they  were  justly  punished  for 
their  fault  by  losing  the  power  to  recognise  it.  Alas  ! 
in  thus  adhering  to  the  truth  by  the  mind,  but  with 
the  heart  departing  from  it,  and  loving  vanity  in  its 
place,  man  became  himself  a  vain  thing.  And  what 
is  more  vain  than  to  love  vanity,  and  what  is  more 
repugnant  to  justice  than  to  despise  the  truth  ? 
What  is  more  just  than  that  the  power  to  recognise 
the  truth  should  be  withdrawn  from  those  who  have 
despised  it,  and  that  those  who  did  not  glorify  the 


36  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

truth  when  they  recognised  it  should  lose  the  power 
of  boasting  of  the  knowledge  ?  Thus  the  love  of 
vanity  is  the  contempt  of  truth,  and  the  contempt  of 
truth  the  cause  of  our  blindness.  And  because  they 
did  not  /ike,  he  says,  to  retain  God  in  their  knowledge.  He 
gave  them  over  unto  a  reprobate  mind  (Rom.  i.  28). 

2.  From  this  blindness,  then,  it  follows  that  we 
frequently  love  and  approve  that  which  is  not  for 
that  which  is ;  since  while  we  are  in  this  body  we 
are  wandering  from  Him  who  is  the  Fulness  of 
Existence.  And  what  is  man,  O  God,  except  that 
Thou  hast  taken  knowledge  of  Him  ?  If  the  know 
ledge  of  God  is  the  cause  that  man  is  anything,  the 
want  of  this  makes  him  nothing.  But  He  who  calls 
those  things  which  are  not  as  though  they  were, 
pitying  those  reduced  in  a  manner  to  nothing,  and 
not  yet  able  to  contemplate  in  its  reality,  and  to 
embrace  by  love  that  hidden  manna,  concerning 
which  the  Apostle  says  :  Your  life  is  hidden  with  Christ 
in  God  (Cor.  iii.  3).  But  in  the  meantime  He  has 
given  us  to  taste  it  by  faith  and  to  seek  for  by  strong 
desire.  By  these  two  we  are  brought  for  the  second 
time  from  not  being,  to  begin  to  be  that  His  (new) 
creature,  which  one  day  shall  pass  into  a  perfect  man, 
into  the  measure  of  the  stature  of  the  fulness  of 
Christ.  That,  without  doubt,  shall  take  place,  when 
righteousness  shall  be  turned  into  judgment,  that  is, 
faith  into  knowledge,  the  righteousness  which  is  of 
faith  into  the  righteousness  of  full  knowledge,  and 
also  the  hope  of  this  state  of  exile  shall  be  changed 
into  the  fulness  of  love.  For  if  faith  and  love  begin 
during  the  exile,  knowledge  and  love  render  perfect 
those  in  the  Presence  of  God.  For  as  faith  leads  to 


LETTER    VI  37 

full  knowledge,  so  hope  leads  to  perfect  love,  and,  as 
it  is  said,  If  ye  will  not  believe  ye  shall  not  understand 
(Is.  vii.  9,  ace.  to  Ixx.),  so  it  may  equally  be  said 
with  fitness,  if  you  have  not  hoped,  you  will  not 
perfectly  love.  Knowledge  then  is  the  fruit  of  faith, 
perfect  charity  of  hope.  In  the  meantime  the  just 
lives  by  faith  (Hab.  ii.  4),  but  he  is  not  happy  except 
by  knowledge  ;  and  he  aspires  towards  God  as  the 
hart  desires  the  water-brooks  ;  but  the  blessed  drinks 
with  joy  from  the  fountain  of  the  Saviour,  that  is,  he 
delights  in  the  fulness  of  love. 

3.  Thus  understanding  and  love,  that  is,  the 
knowledge  of  and  delight  in  the  truth,  are,  perhaps, 
as  it  were,  the  two  arms  of  the  soul,  with  which  it 
embraces  and  comprehends  with  all  saints  the 
length  and  breadth,  the  height  and  depth,  that  is 
the  eternity,  the  love,  the  goodness,  and  the  wisdom 
of  God.  And  what  are  all  these  but  Christ  ?  He 
is  eternity,  because  "  this  is  life  eternal  to  know  Thee 
the  true  God  and  Jesus  Christ  whom  Thou  hast  sent  " 
(S.  John  xvii.  3).  He  is  Love,  because  He  is  God, 
and  God  is  Love  (i  S.  John  iv.  16).  He  is  both  the 
Goodness  of  God  and  the  Wisdom  of  God  (i  Cor. 
i.  24),  but  when  shall  these  things  be  ?  When  shall 
we  see  Him  as  He  is  ?  For  the  expectation  of  the 
creature  waiteth  for  the  revelation  of  the  sons  of  God. 
For  the  creature  was  subjected  unto  vanity,  not  ivillingly 
(Rom.  viii.  19,  20).  It  is  that  vanity  diffused  through 
all  which  makes  us  desire  to  be  praised  even  when 
we  are  blameable,  and  not  to  be  willing  to  praise 
those  whom  we  know  to  be  worthy  of  it.  But  this 
too  is  vain,  that  we,  in  our  ignorance,  frequently 
praise  what  is  not,  and  are  silent  about  what  is. 


38  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

What  shall  we  say  to  this,  but  that  the  children  of  men 
are  vain,  the  children  of  men  are  deceitful  upon  the  weights, 
so  that  they  deceive  each  other  by  vanity  (Ps.  Ixi.  9  ;  Ixx.). 
We  praise  falsely,  and  are  foolishly  pleased,  so  that 
they  are  vain  who  are  praised,  and  they  false  who 
praise.  Some  flatter  and  are  deceptive,  others  praise 
what  they  think  deserving,  and  are  deceived  ;  others 
pride  themselves  in  the  commendations  which  are 
addressed  to  them,  and  are  vain.  The  only  wise 
man  is  he  who  says  with  the  Apostle :  I  forbear,  lest 
any  man  should  think  of  me  above  that  which  he  seeth  me 
to  be  or  that  he  heareth  of  me  (2  Cor.  xii.  6). 

4.  For  the  present  I  have  noted  down  these  things 
too  hastily  (because  of  this  in  not  so  finished  a  way), 
rather  than  dictated  them  for  you,  perhaps  also  at 
greater  length  than  I  should,  but  to  the  best  of  my 
poor  ability.  But  that  my  letter  may  finish  at  the 
point  whence  it  began,  I  beg  you  not  to  be  too 
credulous  of  uncertain  rumour  about  me,  which,  as 
you  know  well,  is  accustomed  to  be  wrong  both  in 
giving  praise  and  in  attaching  blame.  Be  so  kind, 
if  you  please,  as  to  weigh  your  praises,  and  examine 
with  care  how  far  your  friendship  for  me  and  your 
favour  are  well-founded,  thus  they  will  be  the  more 
acceptable  from  my  friend  as  they  are  fitted  to  my 
humble  merit.  Thus  when  praise  shall  have  pro 
ceeded  from  grave  judgment,  and  not  from  the  error 
of  the  vulgar,  if  it  is  more  moderate  it  will  be  at  the 
same  time  more  easy  to  bear.  I  assure  you  that 
what  attaches  me  (humble  person  as  I  am),  to  you 
is  the  zeal,  industry,  and  sincerity  with  which  you 
employ  yourself,  as  they  say,  in  the  accomplishment 
of  your  charge  in  holy  things.  May  it  be  always 


LETTER    VI  39 

thus  with  you  that  this  may  be  said  of  you  always 
with  truth.  I  send  you  the  book  which  you  desire  to 
have  in  order  to  copy  ;  as  for  the  other  treatises  of 
mine  which  you  wish  that  I  should  send,  they  are  but 
few,  and  contain  nothing  which  I  should  think  worthy 
of  your  attention,  yet  because  I  should  prefer  that 
my  want  of  intelligence  should  be  blamed  rather 
than  my  goodwill,  and  I  would  rather  endanger  my 
inexperience  than  my  obedience  in  your  sight,  be  so 
good  as  to  let  me  know  by  the  present  messenger 
which  of  my  treatises  you  wish  that  I  should  send 
you,  so  that  I  may  ask  for  them  again  from  those 
persons  to  whom  they  have  been  lent,  and  send  them 
wherever  you  shall  direct.  That  you  may  know 
what  you  wish  for,  I  may  say  that  I  have  written  a 
little  book  on  Humility,  four  Homilies  on  the  Praises 
of  the  Virgin  Mother  (for  the  little  book  has  this  title), 
upon  that  passage  of  S.  Luke  where  it  is  said  the 
Angel  Gabriel  was  sent  (S.  Luke  i.  26).  Also  an 
Apology  dedicated  to  a  certain  friend  of  mine,  in 
which  I  have  treated  of  some  of  our  observances, 
that  is  to  say,  those  of  Citeaux,  and  those  of  Cluny. 
I  have  also  written  a  few  Letters  to  various  persons, 
and  finally,  there  are  some  of  my  discourses  which 
the  brethren  who  heard  them  have  reproduced  in 
their  own  words  and  keep  them  in  their  hands. 
Would  that  any  of  the  simple  productions  of  my 
humble  powers  might  be  of  any  service  to  you,  but 
I  do  not  dare  to  expect  it. 


40  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

LETTER  VII  (towards  the  end  of  A.D.   1127) 
To  MATTHEW,  THE  LEGATE 

He  excuses  himself  very  skilfully  for  not  having  obeyed  the 
summons  to  take  part  in  settling  certain  affairs. 

1.  My  heart  was,  indeed,  prepared  to  obey  ;    not 
so  my  body.     It  was  burned  up  by  the  heats  of  an 
acute  and  violent  fever,  and  exhausted  by  sweats,  so 
that  it  was  too  weak  to  carry  out  the  impulse  of  the 
spirit.      I  wished,  then,  to  go,  but  my  good  will  was 
hindered    by  the  obstacle  which   I   have  mentioned. 
Whether  this  was  truly  so,  let  my  friends  themselves 
judge,   who,  disregarding    every   excuse   that    I    can 
make,   avail  themselves  of   the   bonds   of   obedience 
to  my  superiors  to  draw  me  out  of  my  cloister  into 
cities.      I  beg  them  to  remark  that  this  reason  is  not 
a  pretext  of  my  own  invention,  but  a  cause  of  much 
suffering  to  me  ;    that  they  may  thus  learn  that  no 
project  can   prevail   against  the  will   of  God.      If    I 
should  reply  to  them,  I  have  put  off  my  coal,  how  shall 
I  put  it  on  ?  I  have  washed  my  feet,  how  shall  I  defile 
them  ?  (Cant.  v.  3),  they  would  at  once  be  indignant. 
But  now  let  them  either  object  to  or  acquiesce  in 
the  ruling  of   Providence,  for  it  is  that  which  has 
brought  about,  that  even  if  I  wish  to  go  forth,  I  am 
not  in  health  to  do  so. 

2.  But  the  cause  is  great,  they  say,  the  necessity 
weighty.     They  must,  then,  have  recourse  to  some 
one  suitable  to  settle  great  matters.      If  they  think 
me  such  an  one,  I  not  only  think,  but  know,  that 


LETTER    VII  41 

I  am  not.  Futhermore,  whether  the  matters  are 
great  or  small,  to  which  they  so  earnestly  invite  me, 
they  are  not  my  concern.  Now,  I  inquire,  Are  the 
matters  easy  or  difficult  which  you  are  so  anxious 
to  lay  upon  your  friend,  to  the  troubling  of  his 
peace  ?  If  easy,  they  can  be  settled  without  me  ; 
if  difficult,  they  cannot  be  dealt  with  by  me,  unless, 
perhaps,  I  am  so  estimated  as  to  be  thought  capable 
of  doing  what  no  one  else  can  do,  and  for  whom 
great  and  impossible  affairs  are  to  be  reserved.  But 
if  it  be  so,  O  Lord  my  God,  how  are  Thy  designs 
so  frustrated  in  me  only  ?  Why  hast  Thou  put 
under  a  bushel  the  lamp,  which  could  shine  upon 
a  candlestick  ;  or,  to  speak  more  plainly,  why  hast 
Thou  made  me  a  monk  and  hidden  me  in  Thy 
sanctuary  during  the  day  of  evil,  if  I  were  a  man 
necessary  to  the  world,  without  whom  bishops  are 
not  able  to  transact  their  business  ?  But  this,  again, 
is  a  service  that  my  friends  have  done  me,  that  now 
I  seem  to  speak  with  discomposure  to  a  man  whom 
I  am  accustomed  to  think  of  with  serenity,  and  with 
the  utmost  pleasure.  But  you  know  (I  say  it  to  you, 
my  father)  that  so  far  from  feeling  angry,  I  am  pre 
pared  to  keep  your  commands.  But  it  will  be  a 
mark  of  your  indulgence  to  spare  me  whenever  you 
find  it  possible  to  do  so. 


42  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 


LETTER  VIII  (circa   A.D.    1130) 

To  GILBERT,  BISHOP  OF  LONDON,  UNIVERSAL 
DOCTOR 

He  praises  Gilbert,  who  practised  poverty  in  the  station 
of  Bishop. 

The  report  of  your  conduct  has  spread  far  and 
wide,  and  has  given  to  those  whom  it  has  reached 
an  odour  of  great  sweetness.  The  love  of  riches 
is  extinct ;  what  sweetness  results  !  charity  reigns  ; 
what  a  delight  to  all !  All  recognise  you  for  a 
truly  wise  man,  who  has  trodden  under  foot  the 
great  enemy  with  true  wisdom  ;  and  this  is  most 
worthy  of  your  name  and  of  your  priesthood.  It 
was  fitting  that  your  special  philosophy  should  shine 
forth  by  such  a  proof,  and  that  you  should  crown 
all  your  distinguished  learning  by  such  a  completion. 
That  is  the  true  and  unquestionable  wisdom  which 
contemns  filthy  lucre  and  judges  it  a  thing  unworthy 
[that  philosophy  should]  dwell  under  the  same  roof 
as  the  service  of  idols.  That  the  Magister  Gilbert 
should  become  a  bishop  was  not  a  great  thing  ;  but 
that  a  Bishop  of  London  should  embrace  a  life  of 
poverty,  that  is,  indeed,  grand.  For  the  greatness 
of  the  dignity  could  not  add  glory  to  your  name  ; 
but  the  humility  of  poverty  has  highly  exalted  it. 
To  bear  poverty  with  an  equal  mind,  that  is  the 
virtue  of  patience  ;  to  seek  it  of  one's  own  accord 
is  the  height  of  wisdom.  He  is  praised  and  regarded 
as  admirable  who  does  not  go  out  of  his  way  after 


LETTER    VIII  43 

money ;  and  shall  he  who  renounces  it  have  no 
higher  praise  ?  Unless  that  clear  reason  sees  nothing 
to  be  wondered  at  in  the  fact  that  a  wise  man  acts 
wisely  ;  and  he  is  wise  who  having  acquired  all  the 
science  of  the  learned  of  this  world,  and  having 
great  enjoyment  in  acquiring  them,  has  studied  all 
the  Scriptures  so  as  to  make  their  meaning  new 
again.  What  then  ?  You  have  dispersed,  you 
have  given  to  the  poor,  but  money.  But  what  is 
money  to  that  righteousness  which  you  have  gained 
for  it  ?  His  righteousness,  it  is  said,  endureth  for  ever 
(Ps.  cxii.  9).  Is  it  so  with  money  ?  Then  it  is  a 
desirable  and  honourable  exchange  to  give  that 
which  passes  away  for  that  which  endures.  May 
it  be  granted  to  you  always  so  to  purchase,  O, 
admirable  and  praiseworthy  Magister  !  It  remains 
that  your  noble  beginning  should  attain  an  ending 
worthy  of  it  ;  and  the  tail  of  the  victim  be  joined 
to  the  head.  I  have  gladly  received  your  benedic 
tion,  which  the  perfectness  of  your  virtue  renders 
the  more  precious  to  me.  The  bearer  of  this  letter, 
though  exceedingly  respectable  for  his  own  sake,  I 
desire  to  commend  for  my  sake  also,  to  your  Great 
ness.  He  is  exceedingly  dear  to  me  for  his  good 
ness  and  piety. 


44  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 


LETTER  IX  (circa  A.D.   1135) 

To  ARDUTIO  (OR  ARDUTIUS),  BISHOP  ELECT  OF 
GENEVA 

He  warns  him  that  he  must  attribute  his  election  to  the  grace 
of  God,  and  strive  thenceforth  faithfully  to  co-operate 
with  it. 

I  am  glad  to  believe  that  your  election,  which  I 
have  heard  was  effected  with  so  complete  an  assent 
both  of  the  clergy  and  people,  was  from  God.  I 
congratulate  you  on  His  grace,  and  I  do  not  speak 
of  your  merits,  since  we  ought  not  to  render  to  you 
excessive  praise,  but  to  recognise  that,  not  because  of 
works  of  righteousness  which  you  have  done,  but 
according  to  His  mercy  He  has  done  this  for  you. 
If  you  (which  may  God  forbid  !)  should  think  other 
wise,  your  exaltation  will  be  to  your  ruin.  But  if  you 
acknowledge  it  to  be  of  grace,  see  that  you  receive  it 
not  in  vain.  Make  your  actions  and  your  desires 
good,  and  your  ministry  holy  ;  and  if  sanctity  of  life 
has  not  preceded,  let  it  at  least  follow  your  elevation. 
Then  I  shall  acknowledge  that  you  have  been  pre 
vented  with  the  blessings  of  grace,  and  shall  hope 
that  after  these  you  will  receive  still  better  graces. 
1  shall  be  in  joy  and  gladness  that  a  good  and 
faithful  servant  has  been  set  over  the  family  of  the 
Lord,  and  you  shall  come  to  be  as  a  son  powerful 
and  happy,  meet  to  be  set  over  all  the  good  things  of 
the  Father.  Otherwise,  if  it  delights  you  to  be  in 
higher  place  rather  in  holier  mind,  I  shall  expect  to 


LETTER    X  45 

see,  not  your  reward,  but  your  destruction.  I  hope, 
and  pray  God,  that  it  may  not  be  thus  with  you  ; 
and  am  prepared,  if  there  is  need,  to  render  my  aid, 
as  far  as  in  me  lies,  to  assist  you  in  whatever  you 
think  proper  and  expedient. 


LETTER   X   (in  the  Same    Year) 
To  THE  SAME,  WHEN  BISHOP 

He  exhorts  him  to  adorn  the  dignity  which  he  had  obtained 
without  preceding  merits^  by  a  holy  life. 

i.  Charity  gives  me  boldness,  my  very  dear  friend, 
to  speak  to  you  with  great  confidence.  The  episcopal 
seat  which  you  have  lately  obtained  requires  a  man 
of  many  merits  ;  and  I  see  with  grief  none  of  these 
in  you,  or  at  least  not  sufficient,  to  have  preceded 
your  elevation.  For  your  mode  of  life  and  your 
past  occupations  seem  in  nowise  to  have  been  be 
fitting  the  episcopal  office.  What  then  ?  Would 
you  say,  Is  not  God  able  of  this  stone  to  raise  up  a 
son  of  Abraham  ?  Is  not  God  able  to  bring  about 
that  the  good  works  which  ought  to  have  gone  before 
my  episcopate  may  follow  it  ?  Certainly  He  is,  and 
I  desire  nothing  better  than  this,  if  it  should  be  so. 
I  know  not  why,  but  that  sudden  change  wrought  by 
the  right  hand  of  the  Highest  will  please  me  more 
than  if  the  merits  of  your  former  life  pleaded  for 
you.  Then  I  could  say,  This  is  the  Lord's  doing;  it  is 
marvellous  in  our  eyes  (Ps.  cxviii.  23).  So  Paul,  from 
a  persecutor,  became  the  Doctor  of  the  Gentiles  ;  so 


46  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

Matthew  was  called  from  the  toll-booth,  so  Ambrose 
was  taken  from  the  palace,  the  one  to  the  Episco 
pate,  the  other  to  the  Apostolate.  So  I  have  known 
many  others  who  have  been  usefully  raised  to  the 
Episcopate,  from  the  habits  and  pursuits  of  secular 
life.  How  many  times  it  has  been  the  case  that 
where  sin  abounded,  grace  also  did  much  more 
abound  ? 

2.  So  then,  my  dear  friend,  encouraged  by  these 
examples  and  others  like  them,  gird  up  your  loins, 
and  make  your  actions  and  pursuits  henceforth  good  ; 
let  your  latest  actions  make  the  old  forgotten,  and 
the  correction  of  your  mature  life  blot  out  the 
demerits  of  your  youth.  Take  care  to  imitate  Paul 
in  honouring  your  ministry.  You  will  render  it 
honourable  by  gravity  of  manners,  by  wise  plans,  by 
honourable  actions.  It  is  these  which  most  ennoble 
and  adorn  the  Episcopal  office.  Do  nothing  without 
taking  counsel,  yet  not  of  all,  nor  of  the  first  comer, 
but  of  good  men.  Have  good  men  in  your  confi 
dence,  in  your  service,  dwelling  in  your  house,  who 
may  be  at  once  the  guardians  and  the  witnesses  of 
your  honourable  life.  For  in  this  you  will  approve 
yourself  a  good  man  if  you  have  the  testimony  of 
the  good.  I  commend  to  your  piety  my  poor  brethren 
who  are  in  your  diocese,  especially  those  of  Bonne- 
mont,  in  the  Alps,  and  of  Hautecombe.  By  your 
bounty  towards  these  I  shall  see  what  degree  of 
affection  you  have  for  me. 


LETTER    XI  47 

LETTER  XI  (circa  A.D.  1120) 
To  THE  ABBOT  OF  SAINT  NICASIUS  AT  RHEIMS 

He  consoles  this  abbot  for  the  departure  of  the  Monk  Drogo  and 
his  transfer  to  another  monastery ,  and  exhorts  him  to  patience. 

i.  How  much  I  sympathize  with  your  trouble  only 
He  knows  who   bore  the  griefs  of  all  in  His  own 
body.     How  willingly  would  I  advise  you  if  I   knew 
what  to  say,  or  help  you  if  I  were  able,  as  efficaciously 
as  I  would  wish  that  He  who  knows  and  can  do  all 
things  should  advise  and  assist  me  in  all  my  necessi 
ties.       If   brother    Drogo   had   consulted   me    about 
leaving    your    house    I    should   by   no    means    have 
agreed  with  him  ;  and  now  that  he  has  left,  if  he 
were  to  apply  to  enter  into  mine  I  should  not  receive 
him.     All  that   I   was   able  to  do  in  those  circum 
stances  I  have  done  for  you,  and  have  written,  as  you 
know,   to  the   abbot  who  has  received  him.     After 
this,  reverend  father,  what  is  there  more  that  I   am 
able  to  do  on  your  behalf  ?    And  as  regards  yourself, 
your    Holiness   knows   well   with   me  that   men   are 
accustomed  to  be  perfected  not  only  in  hope,  but  also 
to  glory  in  tribulation.    The  Scripture  consoles  them, 
saying  :     The  furnace  proveth   the   potters    vessels,    and 
temptation  the  righteous  man  (Ecclus.  xxvii.  6,  VULG.)  ; 
The  Lord  is  nigh   unto  them  thai  are  of  a  contrite  heart 
(Ps.  xxxiv.  1 8)  ;  and  We  must  through  much  tribulation 
enter  into  the  kingdom  of  God  (Acts  xiv.  2  I  ;  and  All 
who  will  live  godly  in  Christ  suffer  persecution  (2  Tim.  iii. 
1 2).     Yet  none  the  less  ought  we  to  sympathize  with 
our  friends  whom  we  see  placed  in  care  and  grief  ; 
because  we  do  not  know  what  will  be  the  issue  of 


48  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

such,  and  fear  lest  it  may  be  for  ill ;  since  whilst, 
indeed,  to  saints  and  the  elect  tribulation  workcth 
patience,  patience  experience,  experience  hope,  and  hope 
maketh  not  ashamed  (Rom.  v.  3—5),  to  the  con- 
demnable  and  reprobate,  on  the  contrary,  tribulation 
causes  discouragement,  and  discouragement  confusion, 
and  confusion  despair,  which  destroys  them. 

2.  In  order,  then,  that  this  dreadful  tempest  may 
not  submerge  you,  nor  the  frightful  abyss  swallow 
you  up,  and  the  unfathomable  pit  shut  her  mouth 
upon  you,  employ  all  the  efforts  of  your  prudence 
not  to  be  overcome  of  evil,  but  to  overcome  evil  with 
good.  You  will  overcome  if  you  fix  solidly  your 
hope  in  God,  and  wait  patiently  the  issue  of  the 
affair.  If  that  monk  shall  return  to  a  sense  of  his 
duty,  whether  for  fear  of  you,  or  because  of  his  own 
painful  condition,  well  and  good  ;  but  if  not,  it  is 
good  for  you  to  humble  yourself  under  the  mighty 
hand  of  God,  nor  to  wish  uselessly  to  resist  His 
supreme  ordering  ;  because  if  it  is  of  God  it  cannot 
be  undone.  You  should  rather  endeavour  to  repress 
the  sparkles  of  your  indignation,  however  just,  by  a 
reflection  which  a  certain  saint  is  said  in  a  similar 
case  to  have  uttered.  For  when  some  of  his  monks 
were  mixing  demands  with  bitter  reproaches  because 
he  did  not  require  back  again  a  fugitive  who  had  fled 
to  another  monastery  in  defiance  of  his  authority, 
"  By  no  means,"  he  said,  "  wheresoever  he  may  be,  if 
he  is  a  good  man,  he  is  mine." 

3.  I  should  be  wrong  to  counsel  you  thus,  if  I  did 
not  oblige  myself  to  act  thus.  For  when  one  of  my 
brethren,  not  only  a  professed  religious,  but  also 
nearly  akin  to  me,1  was  received  and  retained  at 
Cluny  against  my  will,  I  was  afflicted,  indeed,  but 


LETTER    XII  49 

endured  it  in  silence,  praying  both  for  them  that  they 
might  be  willing  to  return  the  fugitive,  and  for  him, 
that  he  might  be  willing  of  his  own  accord  to  return  ; 
but  if  not,  leaving  the  charge  of  my  vengeance  to 
Him  who  shall  render  judgment  to  the  patient  and 
contend  in  equity  for  the  meek  of  the  earth.  Please 
to  warn  brother  Hugo,  of  Lausanne,  with  your  own 
mouth,  and  as  from  me,  not  to  believe  every  spirit, 
and  not  to  be  induced  rashly  to  desert  the  certain  for 
the  uncertain.  Let  him  remember  that  perseverance 
alone  is  always  attacked  by  the  devil,  because  it  is  the 
only  virtue  which  has  the  assurance  of  being  crowned. 
It  will  be  safer  for  him  simply  to  persevere  in  the 
vocation  wherein  he  is  called  than  to  renounce  it 
under  the  pretext  of  a  life  more  perfect,  at  the  risk  of 
not  being  found  equal  to  that  which  he  had  the 
presumption  to  attempt. 


LETTER    XII    (A.D.    1127) 
To  Louis,  KING  OF  FRANCE2 

The  monks  of  Citeaux  take  the  liberty  to  address  grave  reproaches 
to  King  Louis  for  his  hostility  to  and  injuries  inflicted  upon 
the  Bishop  of  Paris,  and  declare  that  they  will  bring  the 
cause  before  the  Pope  if  the  King  does  not  desist. 

To  LOUIS,  the  glorious  King  of  France,  STEPHEN, 
Abbot  of  Citeaux,  and  the  whole  assembly  of  the 
abbots  and  brethren  of  Citeaux,  wish  health,  pros 
perity,  and  peace  in  Christ  Jesus. 

1  This  was  Robert,  to  whom  Letter  I.  was  addressed. 

2  Louis  VI.,  "the  Fat." 

D 


50  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

1.  The  King  of  heaven  and  earth  has  given  you 
a  kingdom  on  earth,  and  will  bestow  upon  you  one 
in  heaven  if  you  study  to  govern  with  justice  and 
wisdom  that  which  you  have  received.     This  is  what 
we  wish  for  you,  and  pray  for  on  your  behalf,  that 
you  may  reign  here  faithfully,  and  there  in  happiness. 
But  why  do  you  of  late  put  so  many  obstacles  in  the 
way  of  our  prayers  for  you,  which,  if  you  recollect, 
you  formerly  with  such  humility  requested  ?     With 
what  confidence  can  we  now  presume  to  lift  up  our 
hands  for  you  to  the  Spouse  of  the  Church,  while 
you  so  inconsiderately,  and  without  the  slightest  cause 
(as  we  think),  afflict  the  Church  ?     Grave  indeed  is 
the  complaint  she  lays  against  you  before  her  Spouse 
and  Lord,  that  she  finds  you  an  opposer  whom  she 
accepted  as  a  protector.     Have  you  reflected  whom 
you  are  thus  attacking  ?     Not  really  the  Bishop  of 
Paris,1  but  the  Lord  of  Paradise,  a  terrible  God  who 
cuts  off  the  spirit  of  Princes  (Ps.  Ixx.  12),  and  who  has 
said    to   Bishops,   He    who   despiseth    you    despiseth    me 
(S.  Luke  x.  1 6). 

2.  That  is  what  we  have  to  say  to  you.      Perhaps 
we  have  to  say  it  with  boldness,  but  at  the  same  time 
in  love  ;    and  for  your  sake   we   pray  you  heartily, 
in  the  name  of  the  friendship  with  which  you  have 

1  Stephen,  who  was  Bishop  of  Paris  from  1124  to  1144.  The  cause  of 
these  persecutions  was  the  withdrawal  of  Stephen  from  the  Court,  and  the 
liberty  of  the  Church  which  he  demanded.  Henry,  Archbishop  of  Sens, 
had  a  similar  difficulty,  and  for  causes  not  unlike  (Letter  49).  The  mind 
of  the  King  was  not  induced  to  yield  by  this  Letter,  and  the  death  of  his 
son  Philip,  who  was  already  associated  with  him  as  King,  passed  for  a 
punishment  from  heaven  for  his  obstinacy.  It  is  astonishing  that  after  his 
death  the  nobles  and  bishops  should  have  had  thoughts  of  hindering  the 
succession  of  Louis  the  Younger  (Ordericus,  Book  xiii.  p.  895  sqq.). 


LETTER   XII  51 

honoured  us,  and  of  the  brotherhood  with  which  you 
deigned  to  associate  yourself,  but  which  you  have 
now  so  grievously  wounded,  quickly  to  desist  from 
so  great  a  wrong  ;  otherwise,  if  you  do  not  deign  to 
listen  to  us,  nor  take  any  account  of  us  whom  you 
called  brethren,  who  are  your  friends,  and  who  pray 
daily  for  you  and  your  children  and  realm,  we  are 
forced  to  say  to  you  that,  humble  as  we  are,  there  is 
nothing  which  we  are  not  prepared  to  do  within  the 
limits  of  our  weakness  for  the  Church  of  God,  and 
for  her  minister,  the  venerable  Bishop  of  Paris,  our 
father  and  our  friend.  He  implores  the  help  of  poor 
religious  against  you,  and  begs  us  by  the  right  of 
brotherhood l  to  write  in  his  favour  to  the  Lord 
Pope.  But  we  judge  that  we  ought  first  to  com 
mence  by  this  letter  to  your  royal  Excellence, 
especially  as  the  same  Bishop  pledges  himself  by 
the  hand  of  all  our  Congregation  to  give  every 
satisfaction  provided  that  his  goods,  which  have  been 
unjustly  taken  away  from  him,  be  restored,  which  it 
seems  to  us  justice  itself  requires  ;  in  the  meantime, 
we  put  off  the  sending  of  his  petition.  And  if  God 
inspires  you  to  lend  an  ear  to  our  prayers,  to  follow 
our  counsels,  and  to  restore  peace  with  your  Bishop, 
or  rather  with  God  which  we  earnestly  desire,  we  are 
prepared  to  come  to  you  wherever  you  shall  pleased 
to  fix  for  the  sake  of  arranging  this  affair  ;  but  if  it 
be  otherwise,  we  shall  be  obliged  to  listen  to  the 
voice  of  our  friend,  and  to  render  obedience  to  the 
priest  of  God.  Farewell. 

1  All  those  who  in  a  Society  had  the  right  of  suffrage  were  regarded  as 
brothers.  So  the  monks  of  Chaise-Dieu  call  Louis  Le  Jeune  by  ihe  name 
of  brother  (Duchesne,  Vol.  iv.  Letter  308). 


52  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 


LETTER   XIII  (A.D.   1127) 

TO  THE  SAME  POPE,  IN  THE  NAME  OF  GEOFFREY, 
BISHOP  OF  CHARTRES. 

He  explains  to  the  Pontiff  the  cause  why  the  Bishop  of  Paris 
was  unjustly  oppressed  by  King  Louis.  The  interdict  of 
the  bishops  of  France  had  put  pressure  upon  him,  and  he 
had  promised  to  make  restitution,  when  the  absolution  of 
Honorius  rendered  him  contumacious,  and  prevented  his 
fulfilling  his  promise. 

It  is  superfluous  to  recall  to  you,  very  holy  Father, 
the  cause  and  order  of  a  very  afflicting  history,  and 
to  linger  over  what  you  have  already  heard  from 
the  pious  Bishop  of  Paris,  and  which  must  have 
profoundly  affected  your  paternal  heart.  Yet  my 
testimony  also  ought  not  to  be  wanting  to  my 
brother  and  co-bishop  ;  what  I  have  seen  and  heard 
respecting  this  matter,  this  I  have  undertaken  to 
make  you  acquainted  with  in  few  \vords.  When 
the  before-mentioned  Bishop  had  brought  forward 
his  complaint,  which  he  did  with  great  moderation, 
in  our  provincial  assembly,  where  had  gathered  with 
our  venerable  metropolitan  the  Archbishop  of  Sens, 
all  the  bishops  of  the  province,  and  certain  religious 
also  whom  we  had  summoned,  we  determined  to 
represent  to  the  King,  with  all  becoming  humility, 
his  unjust  proceeding,  and  to  beg  that  he  would 
restore  to  the  Bishop  unjustly  maltreated  what  had 
been  taken  from  him ;  but  we  obtained  no  satisfac 
tion  from  him.  Understanding,  at  length,  that  in 


LETTER    XIII  53 

order  to  defend  the  Church  we  had  decided  to  have 
recourse  to  the  weapons  of  the  Church,  he  was  afraid, 
and  promised  the  restitution  demanded.  But  almost 
in  the  same  hour  arrived  your  letter,  ordering  that 
the  interdict  over  the  royal  domains  should  be  raised, 
thus,  unfortunately,  strengthening  the  King  in  his  evil 
doings,  so  that  he  did  not  perform  at  all  what  he 
had  promised.  Nevertheless,  as  he  had  given  a  fresh 
promise  that  he  would  do  what  we  required,  we 
presented  ourselves  on  the  day  appointed.  We 
laboured  for  peace,  and  it  did  not  come  ;  but  in 
stead  of  it  worse  confusion.  Thus  the  effect  of  your 
letter  has  been  that  the  goods  unjustly  seized  are 
more  unjustly  retained,  and  those  which  remain  are 
seized  day  by  day,  and  that  so  much  more  securely, 
as  he  is  assured  of  entire  impunity  in  retaining  them. 
The  just  (as  we  consider)  interdict  of  the  Bishop  has 
been  raised  by  your  order,  and  as  the  fear  of  dis 
pleasing  you  has  made  us  suspend  that  which  we 
proposed  to  send  forth  by  our  own  authority,  and  by 
which  we  hoped  to  obtain  peace,  we  are  made  in  the 
meantime  the  derision  of  our  neighbours.  How  long 
is  this  to  be  ?  Let  the  compassion  of  your  piety 
be  exercised  in  our  behalf. 


54  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

LETTER  XIV  (circa  A.D.   1129) 

TO    ALEXANDER,1    BlSHOP    OF    LINCOLN 

A  certain  canon  named  Philip,  on  his  way  to  Jerusalem,  hap 
pening  to  turn  aside  to  Clairvaux,  wished  to  remain  there 
as  a  monk.  He  solicits  the  consent  of  Alexander,  his 
bishop,  to  this,  and  begs  him  to  sanction  arrangements 
with  the  creditors  of  Philip.  He  finishes  by  exhorting 
Alexander  not  to  trust  too  much  in  the  glory  of  the  world. 

To  the  very  honourable  lord,  ALEXANDER,  by  the 
Grace  of  God,  Bishop  of  Lincoln,  BERNARD,  Abbot 
of  Clairvaux,  wishes  honour  more  in  Christ  than  in 
the  world. 

i.  Your  Philip,  wishing  to  go  to  Jerusalem,  has 
found  his  journey  shortened,  and  has  quickly  reached 
the  end  that  he  desired.  He  has  crossed  speedily 
this  great  and  wide  sea,  and  after  a  prosperous 
voyage  has  now  reached  the  desired  shore,  and 
anchored  at  length  in  the  harbour  of  salvation. 
His  feet  stand  already  in  the  Courts  of  Jerusalem, 
and  Him  whom  he  had  heard  of  in  Ephrata  he  has 
found  in  the  broad  woods,  and  willingly  worships  in 
the  place  where  his  feet  have  stayed.  He  has  entered 
into  the  Holy  City,  and  has  obtained  an  heritage  with 
those  of  whom  it  is  rightly  said  :  Now  ye  are  no  longer 
strangers  and  foreigners,  but  fellow-citizens  with  the  saints 
and  of  the  household  of  God  (Ephesians  ii.  19).  He 
goes  in  and  out  with  the  saints,  and  is  become  as 
one  of  them,  praising  God  and  saying  as  they  :  Our 

1  This  Alexander  was  Bishop  of  Lincoln  in  England  from  1123  to  1147* 


LETTER    XIV  55 

conversation  is  in  heaven  (Philip,  iii.  20).  He  is  be 
come,  therefore,  not  a  curious  spectator  only,  but  a 
devoted  inhabitant  and  an  enrolled  citizen  of  Jeru 
salem  ;  but  not  the  Jerusalem  of  this  world  with 
which  is  joined  Mount  Sinai,  in  Arabia,  which  is 
in  bondage  with  her  children,  but  of  her  who  is 
above,  who  is  free,  and  the  mother  of  us  all  (Gal. 
iv.  25-26). 

2.  And  this,  if  you  are  willing  to  perceive  it,  is 
Clairvaux.  This  is  Jerusalem,  and  is  associated  by 
a  certain  intuition  of  the  spirit,  by  the  entire  devotion 
of  the  heart,  and  by  conformity  of  daily  life,  with 
her  which  is  in  heaven.  This  shall  be,  as  he  pro 
mises  himself,  his  rest  for  ever.  He  has  chosen  her 
for  his  habitation,  because  with  her  is,  although  not 
yet  the  realisation,  at  least  the  expectation,  of  true 
peace  of  which  it  is  said  :  The  peace  of  God  which  passes 
all  understanding  (Philip,  iv.  17).  But  this  is  true 
happiness ;  although  he  has  received  it  from  above, 
he  desires  to  embrace  it  with  your  good  permission, 
or  rather -he  trusts  that  he  has  done  this  according 
to  your  wish,  knowing  that  you  are  not  ignorant  of 
that  sentence  of  the  wise  man,  that  a  wise  son  is  the 
glory  of  his  father.1  He  makes  request,  therefore, 
of  your  Paternity,  and  we  also  make  request  with 
him  and  for  him,  to  be  so  kind  as  to  allow  the 
payments  which  he  has  assigned  to  his  creditors 2 
from  his  prebend  to  remain  unaltered,  so  that  he 

1  Prov.    x.    i.       Bernard    always  quotes   this    passage   thus.      In   the 
VULGATE  it  is,  Filius  sapiens  latificat  patrem. 

2  Letter  18  from  the  Abbot  Philip  to  Alexander  the  Third  is  on  a  very 
similar  subject,  and  begs  that  the  property  of  the  Archdeacon  of  Orleans, 
who  had  become  a  monk,  should  be  given  up  to  his  creditors  (Biblioth. 
Cisterc.  Vol.  i.  p.  246). 


56  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

may  not  be  found  (which  God  forbid)  a  defaulter 
and  breaker  of  his  covenant,  and  so  that  the  offering 
of  a  contrite  heart,  which  he  makes  daily,  may  not 
be  rejected  by  God,  inasmuch  as  any  brother  has 
a  claim  against  him.  And  lastly,  he  entreats  that 
the  house  which  he  has  built  for  his  mother  upon 
Church  land,  with  the  ground  which  he  has  assigned 
there,  may  be  preserved  to  his  mother  during  her 
life.  Thus  much  with  regard  to  Philip. 

3.  I  have  thought  well  to  add  these  few  words  for 
yourself,  of  my  own  accord,  or  rather  at  the  inspira 
tion  of  God,  and  venture  to  exhort  you  in  all  charity, 
not  to  look  to  the  glory  of  the  world  which  passeth 
away,  and  to  lose  that  which  abides  eternally ;  not 
to  love  your  riches  more  than  yourself,  nor  for  your 
self,  lest  you  lose  yourself  and  them  also.  Do  not, 
while  present  prosperity  smiles  upon  you,  forget  its 
certain  end,  lest  adversity  without  end  succeed  it. 
Let  not  the  joy  of  this  present  life  hide  from  you 
the  sorrow  which  it  brings  about,  and  brings  about 
while  it  hides.  Do  not  think  death  far  off,  so  that 
it  come  upon  you  unprepared,  and  while  in  expecta 
tion  of  long  life  it  suddenly  leaves  you  when  ill-pre 
pared,  as  it  is  written  :  When  they  say  Peace  and  safety, 
then  sudden  destruction  cometh  upon  them,  as  travail  upon 
a  woman  with  child,  and  they  shall  not  escape  (i  Thess. 
v.  3).  Farewell. 


LETTER    XV  57 

LETTER  XV  (circa  A.D.   1129) 
To  ALVISUS,  ABBOT  OF  ANCHIN 

He  praises  the  fatherly  gentleness  of  Alvisus  towards  Godwin. 
He  excuses  himself,  and  asks  pardon  for  having  admitted 
him. 

To  ALVISUS,  Abbot  of  Anchin.1 

i.  May  God  render  to  you  the  same  mercy  which 
you  have  shown  towards  your  holy  son  Godwin. 
I  know  that  at  the  news  of  his  death  you  showed 
yourself  unmindful  of  old  complaints,  and  remem 
bering  only  your  friendship  for  him,  behaved  with 
kindness,  not  resentment,  and  putting  aside  the 
character  of  judge,  showed  yourself  a  father  in 
circumstances  that  required  it.  Therefore,  you 
strove  to  render  to  him  all  the  duties  of  charity 
and  piety  which  a  father  ought  to  render  to  a 
son.  What  better,  what  more  praiseworthy,  what 
more  worthy  of  yourself  could  you  have  done  ? 
But  who  believed  this  ?  Truly  no  one  knows  what 
is  in  man,  except  the  spirit  of  man  which  is  in  him 
(i  Cor.  ii.  n).  Where  is  now  that  austerity,  that 
severity,  that  indignation  which  tongue,  eyes,  and 
countenance  were  accustomed  to  display  and  terribly 
to  pour  upon  him  ?  Scarcely  is  the  death  of  your 
son  named  to  you  than  your  fatherly  bosom  is 
moved.  Suddenly  all  these  sentiments  which  were 
adopted  for  a  purpose,  and  therefore  only  for  a 
time,  disappeared,  and  those  which  were  truly  yours, 

1  A  monastery  of  the  Benedictine  Order  on  the  river  Scarpe  two  miles 
from  Douai.     It  dates  from  1029,  and  was  at  first  named  S.  Saviour. 


58  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

but  were  concealed — charity,  piety,  benignity — ap 
peared.  Therefore,  in  your  pious  mind,  mercy  and 
truth  have  met  together,  and  because  mercy  has 
certainly  prevailed  over  judgment,  righteousness  and 
peace  have  kissed  each  other  (Ps.  Ixxxv.  10).  For  as 
far  as  I  seem  to  be  able  to  form  an  idea,  I  think  I 
see  what  passed  in  your  mind  then,  when  truth, 
fired  with  zeal  for  justice,  prepared  to  avenge  the 
injury  which  it  seemed  to  you  had  been  done.  The 
sentiment  of  mercy  which,  after  the  example  of 
Joseph,  prudently  dissimulated  at  first,  yet  not  en 
during  longer  to  be  concealed,  and  in  this  also  like 
to  Joseph  (Gen.  xlv.  i),  burst  forth  from  the  hidden 
fount  of  piety,  and  making  common  cause  with 
truth,  repressed  agitation,  calmed  wrath,  made  peace 
with  justice. 

2.  Then  from  the  pure  and  peaceful  fountain  of 
your  heart  poured  forth  like  limpid  streams  such 
thoughts  as  these  :  What  need  have  I  to  be  angry  ? 
Would  it  not  be  better  to  pity  him,  and  not  to  for 
get  what  is  written,  /  will  have  mercy  and  not  sacrifice 
(Hos.  vi.  6),  and  to  fulfil  what  is  ordered,  Study  to 
keep  the  unity  of  the  Spirit  in  the  bond  of  peace  (Eph. 
iv.  3),  so  as  to  be  able  to  count  on  what  is  promised, 
Blessed  are  the  merciful,  for  they  shall  obtain  mercy  (S. 
Matt.  v.  7)  ?  After  all,  was  not  that  man  my  son  ? 
And  who  can  rage  against  his  son  ? — unless,  per 
haps,  he  was  only  then  my  son  when  he  was  with 
me,  and  not  also  when  he  deserted  me.  In  with 
drawing  from  me  in  body  for  a  time,  has  he  with 
drawn  equally  from  my  heart,  or  can  even  death 
take  him  away  from  me  ?  Must  the  necessity  of 
the  body  and  of  place  so  hamper  the  freedom  of 


LETTER    XV  59 

souls  which  love  each  other  ?  I  am  quite  sure  that 
neither  distance  of  places,  nor  the  absence,  or  even 
the  death,  of  our  bodies  would  be  able  to  disjoin 
those  whom  one  spirit  animates,  one  affection  binds 
together.  Finally,  if  the  souls  of  the  righteous  are  in 
the  hand  of  God  (Wisd.  iii.  i),  we,  both  those  who  are 
already  at  rest,  having  laid  down  the  burden  of  the 
flesh,  and  those  who,  being  still  in  the  flesh,  do  not 
war  according  to  the  flesh,  beyond  a  doubt  are  still 
together.  Mine  he  was  when  living,  mine  he  will 
be  dead,  and  I  shall  recognize  him  as  mine  in  the 
common  fatherland.  If  there  is  any  who  is  able  to 
tear  him  from  the  Hands  of  God,  then  he  may  be 
able  to  separate  him  from  me  also. 

3.  Thus  your  affection,  father,  has  enabled  you  to 
make  excuses  for  your  son.  But  what  has  it  said 
of  me,  or  what  satisfaction  from  me  will  be  worthy 
of  you,  which  you  could  impose  for  the  great  injury 
inflicted  upon  you,  because  when  your  son  left  you 
he  was  received  by  me  ?  What  can  I  say  ?  If  I 
should  plead  I  have  not  received  him  (would  I  were 
able  to  say  so  without  sin)  it  would  be  a  falsehood. 
If  I  should  plead  I  received  him,  indeed,  but  with 
good  reason,  I  should  seem  to  wish  to  excuse  myself, 
The  safer  way  will  be  to  answer,  I  did  wrong.  But 
how  far  did  I  do  wrong  ?  I  do  not  say  it  by  way  of 
defence,  but  by  whom  would  he  not  be  received  ? 
Who,  I  say,  would  repel  that  good  man  from  his 
door  when  he  knocked,  or  expel  him  when  once 
received  ?  But  who  knows  if  God  did  not  wish  to 
supply  our  need  out  of  your  abundance,  so  that  He 
directed  to  us  one  of  the  many  holy  men  who  were 
then  in  great  number  in  your  house,  for  our  con- 


60  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

solation,  indeed,  but  none  the  less  for  a  glory  to 
you  ?  "  For  a  wise  son  is  the  glory  of  his  father  " 
(Prov.  x.  i).  Moreover,  I  did  not  make  any  solicita 
tion  to  him  beforehand.  I  did  not  gain  him  over  by 
promises  to  desert  you  or  to  come  to  us.  Quite  on 
the  contrary,  God  is  my  witness.  I  did  not  consent 
to  receive  him  until  he  begged  me  to  do  so,  until  he 
knocked  at  my  door  and  entreated  to  have  it  opened, 
until  I  had  tried  to  send  him  back  to  you,  but  as  he 
would  not  agree  to  that  I  at  length  yielded  to  his 
importunity.  But  if  it  is  a  fault  that  I  received  him, 
a  monk,  a  stranger,  alone,  and  received  him  in  the 
way  I  did,  it  will  not  be  unworthy  of  you  to  pardon 
such  a  fault,  which  was  committed  once  only,  for  it 
is  not  lawful  for  you  to  deny  forgiveness  even  to 
those  who  sin  against  you  seventy  times  seven. 

4.  But  yet  I  wish  that  you  should  know  that  I  do 
not  treat  this  matter  lightly  or  negligently,  and,  on 
the  contrary,  that  I  cannot  pardon  myself  for  ever 
having  offended  your  Reverence  in  any  manner. 
I  call  God  to  witness  that  often  I  have  in  mind  (since 
I  was  not  able  to  do  it  in  body)  thrown  myself  at 
your  feet  as  a  suppliant,  and  I  often  see  myself  before 
you  making  apology  on  my  knees.  Would  that  the 
Holy  Spirit  who  perhaps  inspired  me  with  these 
feelings  make  you  also  feel  with  what  tears  and 
regrets  worthy  of  pity  I  humble  myself  at  this 
moment  before  your  knees  as  if  you  were  present. 
How  many  times  with  bare  shoulders,  and  bearing 
the  rods  in  my  hands,  prepared,  as  it  were,  to  strike 
at  your  bidding  ;  I  seek  your  pardon,  and  trembling 
wait  for  your  forgiveness  !  I  earnestly  desire,  my 
father,  to  learn  from  you,  if  it  is  not  too  painful  for 


LETTER    XVI  61 

you  to  write  to  me,  that  you  receive  my  excuses, 
so  that  if  they  are  sufficient  I  may  be  consoled  by 
your  indulgence,  but  if,  on  the  contrary,  I  must  be 
more  humiliated  (as  it  is  just)  that  I  may  endeavour, 
whatever  else  I  can  do,  to  give  you  fuller  satisfaction. 
Farewell. 


LETTER   XVI 

To  RAINALD,  ABBOT  OF  FOIGNY 

Bernard  declares  to  him  how  little  lie  loves  praise;  that  the  yoke 
of  Christ  is  light;  that  he  declines  the  name  of  father,  and 
is  content  with  that  of  brother. 

I.  In  the  first  place,  do  not  wonder  if  titles  of 
honour  affright  me,  when  I  feel  myself  so  unworthy 
of  the  honours  themselves ;  and  if  it  is  fitting  that 
you  should  give  them  to  me,  it  is  not  expedient  for 
me  to  accept  them.  For  if  you  think  that  you  ought 
to  observe  that  saying,  In  honour  preferring  one  another 
(Rom.  xii.  10),  and:  Submit  yourselves  one  to  another  in 
the  fear  of  God  (Eph.  v.  21),  yet  the  terms  one  another, 
one  to  another,  are  not  used  at  random,  and  concern 
me  as  well  as  you.  Again,  if  you  think  that  the 
declaration  of  the  Rule  is  to  be  observed,  "  Let  the 
younger  honour  their  elders,"  *  I  remember  what  the 
Truth  has  ruled  :  The  last  shall  be  first,  and  the  first 
last  (S.  Matt.  xx.  16),  and,  He  that  is  the  greater  among 
you,  let  him  be  as  the  younger  (S.  Luke  xxii.  26),  and 
The  greater  thou  art,  the  more  humble  thyself  (Ecclus. 
iii.  1 8),  and  Not  because  we  have  dominion  over  your  faith, 

1  Rule  of  S.  Benedict  cap.  63. 


62  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

but  are  helpers  of  your  joy  (2  Cor.  i.  24),  and,  Have  they 
made  thee  the  master?  Be  then  among  them  as  one  of 
them  (Ecclus.  xxxii.  i),  and  Be  ye  not  called  Rabbi ;  and 
Call  no  man  your  father  upon  the  earth  (S.  Matt,  xxiii. 
8,  9).  As  much,  then,  as  I  am  carried  away  by  your 
compliments,  so  much  am  I  restrained  by  the  weight 
of  these  texts.  Wherefore  I  rightly,  I  do  not  say 
sing,  but  mourn  ;  While  I  suffer  Thy  terrors  I  am  dis 
tracted  (Ps.  Ixxxviii.  15),  and  Thou  hast  lifted  me  up  and 
cast  me  down  (Ps.  cii.  10).  But  I  should,  perhaps, 
represent  more  truly  what  I  feel  if  I  say  that  he 
who  exalts  me  really  humiliates  me  ;  and  he  who 
humiliates  me,  exalts.  You,  therefore,  rather  depress 
me  in  heaping  me  with  terms  of  honour,  and  exalt 
me  by  humbling.  But  that  you  may  not  humble 
so  as  to  crush  me,  these  and  similar  testimonies  of 
the  Truth  console  me,  which  wonderfully  raise  up 
those  whom  they  make  humble,  instruct  while  they 
humiliate.  Thus  this  same  Hand  that  casts  me  down 
raises  me  up  again  and  makes  me  sing  with  joy.  // 
was  good  for  me,  O  Lord,  that  I  was  afflicted,  that  I  might 
learn  Thy  statutes;  the  law  of  Thy  mouth  is  good  unto  me, 
above  thousands  of  gold  and  silver  (Ps.  cxix.  71,  72). 
This  marvel  the  word  of  God,  living  and  efficacious, 
produces.  This,  that  Word  by  which  all  things  are 
done,  gently  and  powerfully  brings  to  pass  ;  this,  in 
short,  is  the  work  of  the  easy  yoke  and  light  burden 
of  Christ  (S.  Matt.  xi.  30). 

2.  We  cannot  but  wonder  how  light  is  the  burden 
of  Truth.  Is  not  that  truly  light  which  does  not 
burden,  but  relieves  him  who  bears  it  ?  What  lighter 
than  that  weight,  which  not  only  does  not  burden, 
but  even  bears  every  one  upon  whom  it  is  laid  to 


LETTER    XVI  63 

bear  ?  This  weight  was  able  to  render  fruitful  the 
Virgin's  womb,  but  not  to  burden  it.1  This  weight 
sustained  the  very  arms  of  the  aged  Simeon,  in  which 
He  was  received.  This  caught  up  Paul,  though  with 
weighty  and  corruptible  body,  into  the  third  heaven. 
I  seek  in  all  things  to  find  if  possible  something  like 
to  this  weight  which  bears  them  who  bear  it,  and  I 
find  nothing  but  the  wings  of  birds  which  in  any 
degree  resembles  it,  for  these  in  a  certain  singular 
manner  render  the  body  of  birds  at  once  more 
weighty  and  more  easily  moved.  Wonderful  work 
of  nature !  that  at  the  same  time  increases  the 
material  and  lightens  the  burden,  and  while  the 
mass  is  greater  the  burden  is  in  the  same  degree 
less.  Thus  plainly  in  the  wings  is  expressed  the 
likeness  of  the  burden  of  Christ,  because  they  them 
selves  bear  that  by  which  they  are  borne.  What 
shall  I  say  of  a  chariot  ?  This,  too,  increases  the 
load  of  the  horse  by  which  it  is  drawn,  but  at  the 
same  time  renders  capable  of  being  drawn  a  load 
which  without  it  could  not  be  moved.  Load  is 
added  to  load,  yet  the  whole  is  lighter.  See  also 
how  the  Chariot  of  the  Gospel  comes  to  the  weighty 
load  of  the  Law,  and  helps  to  carry  it  on  to  per 
fection,  while  decreasing  the  difficulty.  His  word, 
it  is  said,  runneth  very  swiftly  (Ps.  cxlvii.  15).  His 
word,  before  known  only  in  Judea,  and  not  able, 
because  of  its  weightiness,  to  extend  beyond,  which 
burdened  and  weighed  down  the  hands  of  Moses 
himself,  when  lightened  by  Grace,  and  placed  upon 
the  wheels  of  the  Gospel,  ran  swiftly  over  the  whole 

1  Gravidare  ;  grav are. — [E.] 


64  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

earth,  and  reached  in  its  rapid  flight  the  confines  of 
the  world. 

3.  Do  you,  therefore,  my  very  dear  friend,  cease 
from  overwhelming  me  rather  than  raising  with 
undeserved  honours  ;  otherwise  you  range  yourself, 
though  with  a  friendly  intention,  in  the  company  of 
my  enemies.  These  are  they  of  whom  I  am  in  the 
habit  of  thus  complaining  to  God  alone  in  my 
prayers.  Those  who  praised  me  were  sworn  against 
me  (Ps.  cii.  8,  VULG.).  To  this,  my  complaint,  I 
hear  God  soon  replying,  and  bearing  witness  to  the 
truth  of  my  words  :  Truly  they  which  bless  thee  lead  thee 
into  error  (Is.  ix.  16,  cited  from  memory).  Then  I 
reply,  Let  them  be  soon  brought  to  shame  who  say  unto 
me,  There,  There!  (Ps.  Ixx.  3).  But  I  ought  to 
explain  in  what  manner  I  understand  these  words, 
that  it  may  not  be  thought  I  launch  maledictions  or 
imprecations  against  any  of  my  adversaries.  I  pray, 
then,  that  whosoever  think  of  me  above  that  which 
they  see  in  me  or  hear  respecting  me  may  be  turned 
back,  that  is,  return  from  the  excessive  praises  which 
they  have  given  me  without  knowing  me.  In  what 
way  ?  When  they  shall  know  better  him  whom  they 
praise  without  measure,  and  consequently  shall  blush 
for  their  error,  and  for  the  ill  service  that  they  have 
rendered  to  their  friend.  And  in  this  way  it  is  that 
I  say,  Turn  back  !  and  blush  !  to  both  kinds  of  my 
enemies  ;  those  who  wish  me  evil  and  commend  me 
in  order  to  flatter,  and  those  who  innocently,  and 
even  kindly,  but  yet  to  my  injury,  praise  me  to 
excess.  I  would  wish  to  appear  to  them  so  vile  and 
abject  that  they  would  be  ashamed  to  have  praised 
such  a  person,  and  should  cease  to  bestow  praises 


LETTER    XVI  65 

so  indiscreetly.  Therefore,  against  panegyrists  of 
each  kind  I  am  accustomed  to  strengthen  myself 
with  those  two  verses  :  against  the  hostile  with  the 
former,  Let  them  be  turned  back  and  soon  brought  to 
shame  who  wish  me  evil,  but  against  the  well-meaning, 
Let  them  be  turned  backward  and  made  to  blush  who  say 
over  me,  There,  There  ! 

4.  But  as  (to  return  to  you)  I  ought,  according  to 
the  example  of  the  Apostle,  to  rejoice  with  you  only, 
and   not   to    have    dominion    over    your    piety,   and 
according  to  the  word  of  God  we  have  one  Father 
only  who   is   in   heaven,  and   all   we   are  brethren,  I 
find  myself  obliged  to  repel  from  me  with  a  shield  of 
truth  the  lofty  name  of  Lord  and  Father  with  which 
you  have  intended,  I  know  well,  to  honour  me,  not  to 
burden  ;  and  in   place  of  these  I  think  it  fitter  that 
you  should  name  me  brother  and  fellow-servant,  both 
because  we  have  the  same  heritage,  and  because  we 
are  in  the  same  condition,  lest  perchance  if  I  should 
usurp  to  myself  a  title  which  belongs  to  God,  I  shall 
hear  from  Him  :  If  I  be  a  Father :  where  is  my  honour, 
and  I  be  a  Lord  where  is  my  fear?  (Mai.  i.  6).      It  is 
very  true,  however,  that  if  I  do  not  wish  to  attribute 
to  myself  over  you  the  authority  of  a  father,  I   have 
all  the  feelings  of  one,  nor  is  the  love  with  which  I 
embrace  you  less,  I  think,  than  that  of  a  father  or  of 
a  son.     Sufficient,  then,  on  the   subject  of  the  titles 
which  you  give  me. 

5.  I  wish  to  reply  now  to  the  rest  of  your  letter. 
You  complain  that  I   do   not  come  to   see  you.      I 
could  complain  equally  of  you  for  the  same  reason, 
unless,  indeed  (which  you  yourself  do  not  deny),  the 
will  of  God   must  be  preferred  to  our  feelings  and 

E 


66  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

our  needs.  If  it  were  otherwise,  if  it  were  not  the 
work  of  Christ  that  was  in  question,  would  I  suffer 
to  be  so  far  away  from  me  a  companion  so  dear 
and  necessary  to  me,  so  obedient  in  labour,  so 
persevering  in  studies,  so  useful  in  conference,  so 
prompt  in  recollection  ?  Blessed  are  we  if  we  still 
remain  thus  until  the  end  always  and  in  everything, 
seeking  not  our  own  interests,  but  those  of  Jesus 
Christ. 


To  THE  SAME 

He  instructs  Rainald,  who  was  too  anxious  and  distrustful, 
respecting  the  duty  of  superior  which  had  been  conferred 
upon  him ;  and  warns  him  that  he  must  bestow  help  and 
solace  upon  his  brethren  rather  than  require  it  from  them. 

To  his  very  dear  son  RAINALD,  Abbot  of  Foigny, 
BERNARD,  that  God  may  give  him  the  spirit  of 
strength. 

i.  You  complain,  my  very  dear  son,  of  your  many 
tribulations,  and  by  your  pious  complaints  you  excite 
me  also  to  complain,  for  I  am  not  able  to  feel  that 
you  are  sorrowing  without  sharing  your  sorrow,  nor 
can  I  be  otherwise  than  troubled  and  anxious  when 
I  hear  of  your  troubles  and  anxieties.  But  since  I 
foresaw  these  very  difficulties  which  you  say  have 
happened  to  you,  and  predicted  them  to  you,  if  you 
remember — it  seems  to  me  that  you  ought  to  be 
better  prepared  to  endure  them,  and  to  spare  me 
vexation  when  you  can,  For  am  I  not  sufficiently 


LETTER    XVII  67 

tried,  and  more  than  sufficiently,  to  lose  you,  not 
to  see  you,  nor  to  enjoy  your  society,  which  was 
so  pleasant  to  me  ;  so  that  I  have  almost  regretted 
that  I  should  have  sent  you  away  from  me.  And 
although  charity  obliged  me  to  send  you,  yet  not 
being  able  to  see  you  where  you  have  been  sent,  I 
mourn  you  as  if  lost  to  me.  When,  then,  besides 
this,  you  who  ought  to  be  the  staff  of  my  support, 
belabour  me  as  it  were  with  the  rod  of  your  faint 
heartedness,  you  heap  sorrow  upon  sorrow,  and 
torment  upon  torment ;  and  if  it  is  a  mark  of  your 
filial  affection  towards  me  that  you  do  not  hide  any 
of  your  difficulties  from  me,  yet  it  is  hard  to  add 
fresh  trouble  to  one  already  burdened.  Why  is  it 
needful  to  occupy  with  fresh  anxieties  one  already 
more  than  anxious  enough,  and  to  torture  with 
sharper  pains  the  bosom  of  a  father,  already 
wounded  by  the  absence  of  his  son  ?  I  have  shared 
with  you  my  weight  of  cares,  as  a  son,  as  an  intimate 
friend,  as  a  trusty  assistant ;  but  how  do  you  help  to 
bear  your  father's  burden,  if,  instead  of  relieving  me, 
you  burden  me  still  more  ?  You,  indeed,  are  loaded, 
but  I  am  not  lightened  of  my  load. 

2.  For  this  burden  is  that  of  sick  and  weak  souls. 
Those  who  are  in  health  do  not  need  to  be  carried, 
and  are  not,  therefore,  a  burden.  Whomsoever, 
then,  of  your  brethren  you  shall  find  sad,  mean- 
spirited,  discontented,  remember  well  that  it  is  of 
these  and  for  their  sakes,  you  are  father  and  abbot. 
In  consoling,  in  exhorting,  in  reproving,  you  do 
your  duty,  you  bear  your  burden  ;  and  those  whom 
you  bear  in  order  to  cure,  you  will  cure  by  bearing. 
But  if  any  one  is  in  such  spiritual  health  that  he 


68  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

rather  helps  you  than  is  helped  by  you,  recognize 
that  to  him  you  are  not  father  and  abbot,  but  equal 
and  friend.  Do  not  complain  if  you  find  more  trials 
than  consolations  from  those  among  whom  you  are. 
You  were  sent  to  sustain  and  console  others,  because 
you  are  spiritually  stronger  and  better  able  to  bear 
than  they,  and  because  with  the  grace  of  God  you 
are  able  to  aid  and  sustain  all  without  needing 
yourself  to  be  aided  and  sustained  by  any.  Finally, 
if  the  burden  is  great,  so  also  is  the  reward  ;  but,  on 
the  other  hand,  the  more  assistance  you  receive,  the 
more  your  own  reward  is  diminished.  Choose, 
therefore  ;  if  you  prefer  those  who  are  for  you  a 
burden,  your  merit  will  be  the  greater  ;  but  if,  on 
the  contrary,  you  prefer  those  who  console  you, 
you  have  no  merit  at  all.  The  former  are  the 
source  whence  it  arises  for  you  ;  the  second  as  the 
abyss  in  which  it  is  swallowed  up  ;  for  it  is  not 
doubtful  that  those  who  are  partakers  of  the  labour, 
will  be  also  sharers  of  the  reward.  Knowing,  then, 
that  you  were  sent  to  help,  not  to  be  helped,  bear  in 
mind  that  you  are  the  vicar  of  Him  who  came  not 
to  be  ministered  unto,  but  to  minister.  I  could  have 
wished  to  write  at  greater  length,  in  order  to  comfort 
you,  but  that  it  was  not  necessary ;  for  what  need  is 
there  of  filling  a  dead  leaf  with  superfluous  words, 
while  the  living  voice  is  speaking  ?  I  think  that  when 
you  have  seen  our  prior,  these  words  will  be  sufficient 
for  you,  and  your  spirit  will  revive  at  his  presence, 
so  that  you  will  not  require  the  consolation  of  written 
words,  in  the  delight  and  help  which  his  discourse 
will  give  you.  Do  not  doubt  that  I  have  communi 
cated  to  him,  as  far  as  was  possible,  my  inmost 


LETTER    XVIII  69 

mind,  which  you  begged  in  your  letters  might  be 
sent  to  you.  For  you  know  well  that  he  and  I  are 
of  one  mind  and  one  will. 


LETTER    XVIII 

To  THE  SAME 

He  had  desired  Rainald  to  refrain  from  querulous  complaints ; 
now  he  directs  Rainald  to  keep  him  informed  of  all  his 
affairs. 

I  had  hoped,  my  dear  friend,  to  find  a  remedy  for 
my  care  about  you,  if  I  were  not  informed  by  you  of 
your  little  vexations.  And  I  remember  that  I  said  to 
you,  amongst  other  things,  in  my  last  letter,  "  if  it  is 
a  mark  of  your  filial  affection  towards  me  that  you 
do  not  hide  any  of  your  difficulties  from  me,  yet  it  is 
hard  to  add  trouble  to  one  already  burdened."  But 
the  remedy  which  I  thought  would  lighten  my  cares 
has  increased  them,  and  I  feel  more  burdened  than 
before.  For  then  I,  indeed,  felt  vexation  and  fear, 
but  only  on  account  of  the  troubles  named  by  you, 
but  now  I  fear  that  some  evil,  I  know  not  what,  is 
happening  to  you,  and  like  your  favourite  Ovid — 

"  When  have  I  not  made  the  perils  which  I  feared 
Greater  than  they  really  were  ?"  l 

I  fear  all  things  because  I  am  uncertain  of  all  things, 
and  feel  often  real  sorrow  for  imaginary  evils.  The 
mind  which  affection  dominates  is  hardly  master  of 
itself.  It  fears  what  it  knows  not ;  it  grieves  when 

1  Heroid.  Ep.  I.  v.  n. 


yo  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

there  is  no  need  ;  it  is  troubled  more  than  it  wished, 
and  even  when  it  does  not  wish  ;  unable  to  rule  its 
sensibility,  it  pities  or  sympathizes  against  its  will. 
And  because  you  see,  my  son,  that  neither  my  timid 
industry  nor  your  pious  prudence  in  this  respect  are 
of  service  to  me,  do  not,  I  pray  you,  conceal  from 
me  henceforth  anything  that  concerns  you,  that  you 
may  not  increase  my  uneasiness  by  seeking  to  spare 
me.  The  little  books  of  mine  which  you  have,  please 
return  to  me  when  you  can. 


LETTER     XIX    (A.D.   1127) 
To  SUGER,  ABBOT  OF  S.  DENIS 

He  praises  Sugcr,  ivho  had  unexpectedly  renounced  the  pride  and 
luxury  of  the  world  to  give  himself  to  the  modest  habits  of 
the  religious  life.  He  blames  severely  the  clerk  who  devotes 
himself  rather  to  the  service  of  princes  than  that  of  God. 

i.  A  piece  of  good  news  has  reached  our  district  ; 
it  cannot  fail  to  do  great  good  to  whomsoever  it  shall 
have  come.  For  who  that  fear  God,  hearing  what 
great  things  He  has  done  for  your  soul,  do  not 
rejoice  and  wonder  at  the  great  and  sudden  change 
wrought  by  the  Right  Hand  of  the  Most  High. 
Everywhere  your  courage  is  praised  in  the  Lord 
the  gentle  hear  of  it  and  are  glad,  and  even  those 
who  do  not  know  you,1  but  have  only  heard  of  you, 
what  you  were  and  what  you  are  now,  wonder  and 

1  Otherwise  vidcrunt,  have  seen. 


LETTER    XIX  71 

glorify  God  in  you.  But  what  adds  still  more  to 
their  admiration  and  joy  is  that  you  have  been  able 
to  make  your  brethren  partake  of  the  counsel  of 
salvation  poured  upon  you  from  above,  and  so  to 
fulfil  what  we  read,  Let  him  that  hearcth  say,  Come 
(Rev.  xxii.  17),  and  that  What  I  tell  you  in  darkness  that 
speak  ye  in  light,  and  what  ye  hear  in  the  ear  that  preach 
ye  upon  the  house  tops  (S.  Matt.  x.  27).  So  a  soldier 
intrepid  in  war,  or  rather  a  general  full  of  bravery 
and  devotedness,  when  he  sees  almost  all  his  soldiers 
turned  to  flight  and  falling  everywhere  under  the 
hostile  blades,  although  he  may  see  that  he  would  be 
able  to  escape  alone,  yet  he  prefers  to  die  with  those, 
without  whom  he  would  think  it  shame  to  live.  He 
holds  firm  on  the  field  of  battle  and  combats  bravely  ; 
he  ranges,  sword  in  hand,  along  the  ranks,  through 
the  bloody  blades  which  seek  him  ;  he  terrifies  his 
adversaries  and  reanimates  his  followers  with  all  his 
powers  of  voice  and  gesture.  Wherever  the  enemy 
press  on  more  boldly  and  there  is  danger  of  his 
friends  giving  ground,  there  he  is  present  ;  the 
enemy  who  strikes  he  opposes,  the  friend  who  sinks 
exhausted  he  succours  ;  and  he  is  the  more  prepared 
to  die  for  each  one,  that  he  despairs  to  save  them  all. 
But  while  he  makes  heroic  efforts  to  hinder  and  to 
stop  the  pursuers  who  press  upon  his  followers,  he 
raises  as  best  he  can  those  who  are  fallen  and  re 
calls  those  who  have  taken  flight.  Nor  is  it  rare 
that  his  splendid  valour  procures  a  safety  as  wel 
come  as  unhoped  for,  throws  into  confusion  the 
hostile  ranks,  forces  them  to  fly  from  those  whom 
they  were  pursuing,  and  overcomes  those  who  bore 
themselves  almost  as  victors,  so  that  they  who  a 


72  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

little  before  were  struggling  for  life  are  now  rejoicing 
in  victory. 

2.  But  why  do  I  compare  an  event  so  profoundly 
religious  to  things  secular,  as  if  examples  were  want 
ing  to  us  from  religion  itself  ?  Was  not  Moses  quite 
certain  of  what  God  had  promised  him,  that  if,  indeed, 
the  people  over  whom  he  ruled  should  have  perished, 
he  himself  should  not  only  not  perish  with  them, 
but  should  be  besides  the  chief  of  a  great  nation  ? 
Nevertheless,  with  what  affection,  with  what  zeal, 
with  what  bowels  of  piety  did  he  strive  to  save  his 
people  from  the  wrath  of  God  ?  And,  finally,  inter 
posing  himself  on  behalf  of  the  offenders,  he  cries  : 
If  Thou  wilt  forgive  their  sin —  ;  and  if  not,  blot  me,  I 
pray  Thee,  out  of  Thy  book  which  Thou  hast  written  (Exod. 
xxxii.  32).  What  a  devoted  advocate  !  who,  because 
he  does  not  seek  his  own  interests,  easily  obtains 
everything  which  he  seeks.  What  a  benign  chief, 
who,  binding  together  his  people  with  bonds  of 
charity  as  the  head  is  united  with  the  members, 
will  either  save  them  with  himself  or  else  encounter 
the  same  danger  as  they  !  Jeremiah,  also  bound  * 
inseparably  to  his  people,  but  by  the  bond  of  com 
passion,  not  by  sympathy  for  their  revolt,  quitted 
voluntarily  his  native  soil  and  his  own  liberty 2  to 
embrace  in  preference  the  common  lot  of  exile  and 
slavery.  He  was  free  to  remain  in  his  own  country 
had  he  chosen,  while  others  must  remove,  but  he 
preferred  to  be  carried  away  captive  with  his  people, 
to  whom  he  knew  that  he  could  render  service  even 
in  captivity.  Paul,  animated  beyond  doubt  by  the 
same  spirit,  desired  that  he  might  be  anathema  even 

1   Vinctus,  other  wise  junctus.  *  Otherwise  voluntatem. 


LETTER    XIX  73 

from  Christ  Himself  for  his  brethren  (Romans  ix.  3). 
He  experienced  in  his  own  heart  how  true  is  that 
saying,  Love  is  as  strong  as  death,  jealousy  is  cruel  as  the 
grave  (Cant.  viii.  6).  Do  you  see  of  whose  great 
examples  you  have  shown  yourself  an  imitator  ?  But 
I  add  one  more  whom  I  had  almost  passed  over,  that 
of  the  holy  king  David,  who,  perceiving  and  lament 
ing  the  slaughter  of  his  people,  wished  to  devote 
himself  for  them,  and  desired  that  the  Divine  venge 
ance  should  be  transferred  to  himself  and  to  his 
father's  house  (2  Sam.  xxiv.  17). 

3.  But  who  made  you  aspire  to  this  degree  of  per 
fection  ?  I  confess  that  though  I  earnestly  desired  to 
hear  such  things  of  you,  I  never  hoped  to  see  it  come 
to  pass.  Who  would  have  believed  that  you  would 
reach,  so  to  speak,  by  one  sudden  bound,  the  practice 
of  the  highest  virtues,  and  approach  the  most  exalted 
merit  ?  Thus  we  learn  not  to  measure  by  the 
narrow  proportions  of  our  faith  and  hope  the  infinite 
pity  of  God,  which  does  what  It  will  and  works  upon 
whom  It  will,  lightening  the  burden  which  It  imposes 
upon  us,  and  hastening  the  work  of  our  salvation. 
What  then  ?  the  zeal  of  good  people  blamed  your 
errors  at  least,  if  not  those  of  your  brethren  :  it  was 
against  your  excesses  more  than  theirs  that  they 
were  moved  with  indignation  ;  and  if  your  brothers 
in  religion  groaned  in  secret,  it  was  less  against  your 
entire  community  than  against  you  ;  it  was  only 
against  you  that  they  brought  their  accusation.  You 
corrected  your  faults,  and  their  criticisms  had  no 
longer  an  object ;  your  conversion  at  once  stilled  the 
tumult  of  accusation.  The  one  and  only  thing  with 
which  we  were  scandalized  was  the  luxury,  the  pride, 


74  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

the  pomp,  which  followed  you  everywhere.1  At 
length  you  laid  down  your  pride,  you  put  off  your 
splendid  dress,  and  the  universal  indignation  ceased 
at  once.  Thus  you  had  at  the  same  time  satisfied 
those  who  complained  of  you,  and  even  merited  our 
praises.  For  what  in  human  doings  is  deserving  of 
praise,  if  this  is  not  considered  most  worthy  of 
admiration  and  approval  ?  It  is  true  that  a  change 
so  sudden  and  so  complete  is  not  the  work  of  man, 
but  of  God.  If  in  heaven  the  conversion  of  one 
sinner  arouses  great  joy,  what  gladness  will  the 
conversion  of  an  entire  community  cause,  and  of  such 
a  community  as  yours  ? 

4.  That  spot  so  noble  by  its  antiquity  and  the 
royal  favour,  was  made  to  serve  the  convenience  of 
worldly  business,  and  to  be  a  meeting-place  for  the 
royal  troops.  They  used  to  render  to  Caesar  the 
things  which  were  Caesar's  promptly  and  fully  ;  but 
not  with  equal  fidelity  did  they  render  the  things  of 
God  to  God.  I  speak  what  I  have  heard,  not  what  I 
have  seen  :  the  very  cloister  itself  of  your  monastery 
was  frequently,  they  say,  crowded  with  soldiers, 
occupied  with  the  transaction  of  business,  resounding 
with  noise  and  quarrels,  and  sometimes  even  acces 
sible  even  to  women.  How,  in  the  midst  of  all  that, 
could  place  be  found  for  thoughts  of  heaven,  for  the 
service  of  God,  for  the  interests  of  the  spiritual  life  ? 
But  now  there  is  leisure  for  God's  service,  for  prac 
tising  self-restraint  and  obedience,  for  attention  to 
sacred  reading.  Consider  that  silence  and  constant 

1  It  is,  perhaps,  of  this  man  that  Bernard  speaks  in  his  Apology  c.  10: 
"  I  have  seen,  I  do  not  exaggerate,  an  abbot  going  forth  escorted  by  60 
horses  and  more  .  .  .  etc." 


LETTER    XIX  75 

quiet  from  all  stir  of  secular  things  disposes  the  soul 
to  meditation  on  things  above.  And  the  laborious 
exercise  of  the  religious  life  and  the  rigour  of  ab 
stinence  are  lightened  by  the  sweetness  of  psalms 
and  hymns.  Penitence  for  the  past  renders  lighter 
the  austerity  of  the  new  manner  of  life.  He  who  in 
the  present  gathers  the  fruits  of  a  good  conscience, 
feels  in  himself  a  desire  for  future  good  works,  which 
shall  not  be  frustrated,  and  a  well-founded  hope. 
The  fear  of  the  judgment  to  come  gives  way  to  the 
pious  exercise  of  brotherly  charity,  for  love  casteth  out 
fear  (i  S.  John  iv.  18).  The  variety  of  holy  services 
drives  far  away  weariness  and  sourness  of  temper, 
and  I  repeat  these  things  to  the  praise  and  glory  of 
God,  who  is  the  Author  of  all  ;  yet  not  without 
praise  to  yourself  as  being  His  co-worker  in  all 
things.  He  was  able,  indeed,  to  do  them  without 
you,  but  He  has  preferred  to  have  you  for  the  sharer 
of  His  works,  that  He  might  have  you  for  the  sharer 
of  His  glory  also.  The  Saviour  once  reproached 
certain  persons  because  they  made  the  house  of  prayer 
a  den  of  thieves  (S.  Matt.  xxi.  13).  He  will  doubtless 
then  have  in  commendation  the  man  who  has  ac 
complished  the  task  of  freeing  His  holy  place  from 
the  dogs,  of  rescuing  His  pearl  from  the  swine ;  by 
whose  ardour  and  zeal  the  workshop  of  Vulcan  is 
restored  to  holy  studies,  or  rather  the  house  of  God 
is  restored  to  Him  from  being  a  synagogue  of  Satan 
to  be  that  which  it  was  before. 

5.  If  I  recall  the  remembrance  of  past  evils  it  is 
not  in  order  to  cast  confusion  or  reproach  on  any  one, 
but  from  the  comparison  with  the  old  state  of  things 
to  make  the  beauty  of  the  new  appear  more  sharply 


76  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

and  strikingly  ;  because  there  is  nothing  which  makes 
the  present  good  shine  forth  more  clearly  than  a 
comparison  with  the  evils  which  preceded  it.  As  we 
recognize  similar  things  from  similar,  so  things  which 
are  unlike  either  please  or  displease  more  when  com 
pared  with  their  opposites.  Place  that  which  is  black 
beside  that  which  is  white,  and  the  juxtaposition  of 
the  two  colours  makes  each  appear  more  marked. 
So,  if  beautiful  things  are  put  beside  ugly,  the  former 
are  rendered  more  beautiful,  the  ugliness  of  the  latter 
is  more  apparent.  That  there  may  be  no  occasion 
of  offence  or  confusion,  I  am  content  to  repeat  with 
the  Apostle  :  Such,  indeed,  ye  were,  but  ye  are  washed, 
ye  are  sanctified  (i  Cor.  vi.  n).  Now,  the  house  of 
God  ceases  to  open  to  people  of  the  world,  there  is 
no  access  to  sacred  precincts  for  the  curious  ;  no 
gossip  about  trifling  things  with  the  idle  ;  the  chatter 
of  boys  and  girls  is  no  longer  heard.  The  holy  place 
is  open  and  accessible  only  to  the  children  of  Christ, 
of  whom  it  is  said  :  Behold  I  and  the  children  whom  the 
Lord  hath  given  me  (Isaiah  viii.  18).  It  is  reserved  for 
the  praises  of  God  and  the  performance  of  sacred 
vows  with  due  care  and  reverence.  How  gladly  do 
the  martyrs,  of  whom  so  great  a  number  ennoble 
that  place,  listen  to  the  loud  songs  of  these  children, 
to  whom  they  in  turn  reply  no  less  with  a  voice  of 
charity  :  Praise,  O  ye  servants  of  the  Lord,  praise  the 
name  of  the  Lord  (Ps.  cxiii.  i),  and  again,  Sing  praises 
to  our  God,  sing  praises,  sing  praises  to  our  King,  sing 
praises  (Ps.  xlvii.  6). 

6.  When  your  breasts  are  beaten  with  penitent 
hands,  and  your  pavements  worn  with  your  knees, 
your  altars  heaped  with  vows  and  devout  prayers, 


LETTER    XIX  77 

your  cheeks  furrowed  with  tears  ;  when  groans  and 
sighs  resound  on  all  sides  and  the  sacred  roofs  echo 
with  spiritual  songs  instead  of  worldly  pleadings, 
there  is  nothing  which  the  citizens  of  heaven  more 
love  to  look  upon,  nothing  is  more  agreeable  to  the 
eyes  of  the  Heavenly  King.  For  is  not  this  what  is 
said  :  The  sacrifice  of  praise  shall  honour  me  (Ps.  1.  23)  ? 
O,  if  any  one  had  his  eyes  opened,  as  were  those 
of  the  prophet's  servant  at  his  prayer  !  He  would 
doubtless  see  (2  Kings  vi.  17)  The  princes  go  before, 
joined  with  the  minstrels  in  the  midst  of  the  players  on 
timbrels  (Ps.  Ixvii.  26,  VULG.).  We  should  see,  I  say, 
with  what  care  and  ardour  they  assist  at  the  chants, 
and  at  the  prayers  how  they  unite  themselves  with 
those  who  meditate,  they  watch  over  those  who 
repose,  they  preside  over  those  who  order  and  care 
for  all.  The  powers  of  heaven  fully  recognise  their 
fellow-citizens  ;  they  earnestly  rejoice,  comfort,  in 
struct,  protect,  and  provide  for  all  those  who  take 
the  heritage  of  salvation,  at  all  times.  How  happy  I 
esteem  myself  while  I  am  still  in  this  world  to  hear 
of  these  things,  although  I  am  absent  and  do  not  see 
them  !  But  your  felicity,  my  brethren,  to  whom  it 
is  given  to  bear  part  in  them,  far  surpasses  mine, 
and  blessed  above  all  is  he  whom  the  Author  of  all 
good  has  deigned  to  make  the  chief  worker  of  so 
good  a  work ;  it  is  you,  my  dear  friend,  whom  with 
justice  I  congratulate  for  this,  that  you  have  brought 
about  all  which  I  so  greatly  admire. 

7.  You  are  wearied,  perhaps,  with  my  praises,  but 
you  ought  not  to  be  so  ;  they  are  far  different  from 
the  flatteries  of  those  who  call  evil  good  and  good  evil 
(Isaiah  v.  20),  and  so  please  a  person  to  lead  him  into 


78  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

error.  Sweet  but  perilous  is  the  praise  when  the  wicked 
is  praised  in  the  desire  of  his  heart,  and  the  unjust  is  blessed 
(Ps.  ix.  3,  VULG.).  The  warmth  of  my  praises  comes 
from  charity,  and  does  not  once  pass,  as  I  believe, 
the  limits  of  truth.  He  is  safely  praised,  who  is 
praised  in  the  Lord,  that  is,  in  the  truth.  I  have  not 
called  evil  good,  but  have  pointed  out  as  evil  what 
was  evil.  But  if  I  boldly  raise  my  voice  against  that 
which  is  evil,  ought  I  to  be  silent  in  presence  of 
good,  and  not  give  my  testimony  to  it  ?  That  would 
be  to  show  myself  an  envious  critic,  not  a  corrector  ; 
and  to  prefer  to  mangle  rather  than  to  mend,  if  I  am 
silent  as  to  good  and  raise  my  voice  only  about  evil. 
The  just  reproves  in  mercy,  the  wicked  flatters  in 
impiety  ;  the  one  that  he  may  cure,  the  other  in 
order  to  hide  that  which  needs  to  be  cured.  Do  not 
be  afraid  that  those  among  us  who  in  the  fear  of  the 
Lord  praise  you  will  pour  upon  your  head  that  oint 
ment  of  the  sinner  with  which  they  were  wont  to 
anoint  you.  I  praise  you  because  you  are  doing 
right.  But  I  do  not  flatter  you  ;  I  only  accomplish 
in  your  case,  by  the  gift  of  God,  those  words  of  the 
Psalmist :  Those  who  fear  Thee  shall  see  me  and  shall 
rejoice,  because  I  have  hoped  in  Thy  word  (Ps.  cxix.  74)  ; 
and  again  :  Many  shall  show  forth  his  wisdom  (Ecclus. 
xxxix.  10).  It  is,  then,  your  wisdom  which  more 
praised  than  blamed  the  former  folly. 

8.  I  would  that  you  should  take  pleasure  in  the 
praises  of  such  as  fear  just  as  much  to  flatter  vice  as 
to  depreciate  virtue.  That  is  the  true  praise,  which, 
as  it  is  wont  to  extol  nothing  but  what  is  good,  so  it 
knows  not  how  to  caress  what  is  evil.  All  other  is 
pretended  praise,  but  really  blame,  which  Scripture 


LETTER    XIX  79 

refers  to  :  The  sons  of  men  are  vain ;  they  are  deceitful 
upon  the  weights,  so  that  they  deceive  even  more  than  vanity 
(Ps.  Ixii.  10).  Such  are  altogether  to  be  avoided 
according  to  the  counsel  of  the  wise  man  :  My  son,  if 
sinners  entice  thee  consent  thou  not  (Prov.  i.  10),  since 
their  milk  and  their  oil,  though  they  be  sweet,  are 
poisonous  and  deadly.  Their  words,  he  says  (that  is, 
those  of  flatterers),  are  softer  than  oil,  and  yet  are  they 
very  swords  (Ps.  Iv.  21).  The  righteous  has  oil,  too, 
but  of  mercy,  of  sanctification,  of  spiritual  joy.  He 
has  wine,  which  he  pours  into  the  wounds  of  the 
haughty  soul.  But  for  the  soul  of  him  that  mourns, 
and  for  him  of  contrite  heart,  he  has  the  oil  of 
mercy,  with  which  he  is  wont  to  soften  its  sorrow. 
Where  he  corrects,  he  pours  in  wine  ;  when  he 
soothes,  oil ;  but  wine  without  bitterness,  and  oil  with 
out  guile.  Thus,  not  every  praise  is  flattery,  nor 
every  blame  mixed  with  rancour.  Blessed  is  he  who 
can  say  :  Let  the  righteous  smite  me  in  mercy,  and  reprove 
me  :  but  let  not  the  oil  of  the  sinner  break  my  head  (Ps. 
cxli.  5),  which  when  you  have  put  far  from  you,  you 
have  shown  yourself  worthy  of  the  oil  and  wine  of 
the  saints. 

9.  Let  the  children  of  Babylon  seek  for  themselves 
pleasant  mothers,  but  pitiless,  who  will  feed  them 
with  poisoned  milk,  and  soothe  them  with  caresses 
which  will  make  them  fit  for  everlasting  flames  ;  but 
those  of  the  Church,  fed  at  the  breasts  of  her  wisdom, 
having  tasted  the  sweetness  of  a  better  milk,  already 
begin  to  grow  up  in  it  unto  salvation,  and  being 
fully  satiated  with  it  they  cry :  Thy  fulness  is  better  than 
wine,  Thy  fragrance  than  the  sweetest  ointments  (Cant, 
i.  i,  2).  This  to  their  mother.  But,  then,  having 


8o  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

tasted  and  known  how  sweet  the  Lord  is,  how  truly 
the  best  of  fathers,  they  say  to  Him  :  How  great  is 
Thy  goodness,  O  Lord,  which  Thou  hast  laid  tip  for  them 
that  fear  Thee  (Ps.  xxxi.  19).  Now  my  whole  desire 
is  accomplished.  Formerly  when  I  saw  with  regret 
with  what  avidity  you  sucked  in1  from  the  lips  of 
flatterers  their  mortal  poison,  the  seed  of  sin,  I  used, 
with  grief,  to  desire  better  things  for  you,  saying  : 
Who  shall  give  thee  to  me,  my  brother,  who  sucked  the 
breasts  of  my  mother  (Cant.  viii.  i)  ?  Far  from  thee 
henceforth  be  those  men  \vith  caresses  and  dishonest 
praises,  who  bless  you  before  your  face  and  expose 
you  at  the  same  time  to  the  reproach  and  derision 
of  all  men,  whose  applause  in  your  presence  is  the 
world's  by-word,  or  rather  makes  you  a  by-word  to 
the  world.  If  they  murmur  even  now,  say  to  them  : 
If  I  yet  pleased  you,  I  should  not  be  the  servant  of  Christ 
(Gal.  i.  10).  Those  whom  we  please  in  evil  things 
we  cannot  please  in  good  things,  unless  they  are 
themselves  changed,  and  begin  to  hate  what  we  were, 
and  so  at  length  to  love  what  we  are. 

10.  In  our  time  two  new  and  detestable  abuses 
have  arisen  in  the  Church,  of  which  one  (permit  me 
to  say  it)  was  no  stranger  to  you  when  you  lived  in 
forgetfulness  of  the  duties  of  your  profession  ;  but 
this,  thanks  to  God,  has  been  amended  to  His  glory, 
to  your  everlasting  gain,  to  our  joy  and  an  example 
to  all.  God  is  able  to  bring  about  that  we  may  soon 
be  consoled  for  the  second  of  these  evils,  the  odious 
novelty  of  which  I  do  not  dare  to  speak  of  in  public, 
and  yet  am  afraid  to  pass  over  in  silence.  My  grief 
urges  my  tongue  to  speak,  but  fear  restrains  the 

1  Sugere.     Bernard  is  playing  upon  the  name  of  his  correspondent  Suger. 


LETTER    XIX  81 

words  ;  fear  only  lest  I  may  offend  some  one  if  I 
speak  openly  of  what  troubles  me,  since  truth  some 
times  makes  enemies.  But  for  enmity  of  this  kind 
thus  incurred  I  hear  the  truth  consoling  me.  //  is 
needful,  he  says,  that  offences  should  come.  And  I  do 
not  think  that  those  words  which  follow,  Woe  to  that 
man  by  whom  the  offence  cometh  (S.  Matt,  xviii.  7)  con 
cern  me.  For  when  vices  are  attacked  and  a  scandal 
results  thence,  it  is  not  he  who  makes  the  accusation 
who  is  to  answer  for  the  scandal,  but  he  who  renders 
it  necessary.  In  short,  I  am  neither  more  cautious 
in  word  nor  circumspect  in  action  than  he  who  says, 
"  It  is  better  that  a  scandal  should  arise  than  that  the 
truth  be  compromised  "  (S.  Greg.  Magn.  Horn.  7  in 
Ezech.  near  the  beginning,  and  S.  Aug.  de  Lib.  Arbitr. 
et  de  Praedest.  sanctor.).  Although  I  know  not  what 
advantage  it  would  be  were  I  to  hold  my  tongue 
about  that  which  all  the  world  proclaims  with  a  loud 
voice,  nor  can  I  alone  pretend  to  overlook  the  pest 
whose  ill  odour  is  in  all  nostrils,  and  not  dare  to 
guard  my  own  nose  from  its  ill  effect. 

ii.  For  whose  heart  is  not  indignant,  and  whose 
tongue  does  not  murmur  either  openly  or  secretly 
to  see  a  deacon  equally  serving  God  and  Mammon,1 
against  the  precept  of  the  Gospel  heaping  up  ecclesi 
astical  dignities,  so  that  he  seems  not  to  be  inferior 
to  Bishops,  yet  so  mixed  up  in  military  offices  that 
he  is  preferred  even  to  Dukes.  What  monster  is 
this,  that  being  a  clerk,  and  wishing  at  the  same 
time  to  appear  a  soldier,  is  neither  ?  It  is  equally 
an  abuse  that  a  deacon  should  serve  at  the  table 

'  1  This  deacon  was  Stephen  de  Garlande,  seneschal  or  officer  of  the  table 
to  the  King  of  France. 

F 


82  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

of  the  King,  and  that  the  server  of  the  King  should 
minister  at  the  altar  during  the  holy  mysteries.  Is 
it  not  a  wonder,  or  rather  a  scandal,  to  see  the  same 
person  clothed  in  armour  march  at  the  head  of 
armed  soldiery,  and  vested  in  alb  and  stole  read  the 
Gospel  in  the  midst  of  the  Church  ;  at  one  time 
give  the  signal  for  battle  with  the  trumpet,  and  at 
another  convey  the  orders  of  the  Bishop  to  the 
people  ?  Unless,  perhaps,  that  man  (which  would 
be  scandalous)  is  ashamed  of  the  Gospel  of  which 
S.  Paul,  that  Vessel  of  election,  was  so  proud  ? 
Perhaps  he  is  ashamed  to  appear  a  cleric,  and 
thinks  it  more  honourable  to  be  supposed  a  soldier, 
preferring  the  Court  to  the  Church,  the  table  of  the 
King  to  the  Altar  of  Christ,  and  the  cup  of  demons 
to  the  chalice  of  Christ.  This  seems  the  more  pro 
bable,  because  he  is  prouder  (they  say)  to  be  called 
by  the  name  of  that  one  post  which  he  has  obtained 
at  the  palace  than  by  any  of  those  titles  of  ecclesi 
astical  dignities  which,  in  defiance  of  the  canons,  he 
has  heaped  upon  himself,  and  instead  of  delighting 
to  be  called  Archdeacon,  Dean,  or  Provost  to  his 
various  Churches,  he  prefers  to  be  styled  Dapifcr 
to  H.M.  the  King.  O,  unheard  of  and  hateful  per 
versity  !  thus  to  prefer  the  title  of  servant  of  a  man 
to  that  of  the  servant  of  God,  and  to  consider  the 
position  of  an  official  of  an  earthly  king  one  of 
higher  dignity  than  that  of  an  heavenly  !  He  who 
prefers  military  warfare  to  the  work  of  the  ministry 
places  the  world  before  the  Church,  is  convicted 
of  preferring  human  things  to  Divine,  earthly  to 
heavenly.  Is  it  then  more  honourable  to  be  called 
the  King's  Dapifer  than  Dean  or  Archdeacon  ?  It 


LETTER    XIX  83 

may  be  to  a  layman,  not  to  a  cleric  ;  to  a  soldier, 
not  to  a  deacon. 

12.  It  is  a  strange  but  blind  ambition  to  delight 
more  in  the  lowest  things  than  in  the  highest,  and 
that  the  man  whose  lines  had  fallen  to  him  in 
pleasant  places  should  recreate  himself  upon  a  dung 
hill  with  eager  desire,  and  count  his  precious  lands 
as  nothing  worth.  This  man  mingles  the  two  orders 
and  cunningly  abuses  each.  Military  pomps  delight 
him,  but  not  the  risks  and  labours  of  warfare  ;  the 
revenues  of  religion,  but  not  its  duties.  Who  does 
not  see  how  great  is  the  disgrace,  as  much  to  the 
State  as  to  the  Church  ?  for  just  as  it  is  no 
part  of  clerical  duty  to  bear  arms  at  the  pay 
of  the  King,  so  it  is  no  part  of  the  royal  duties 
to  administer  lay  affairs  by  means  of  clerics.1 
What  king  has  ever  put  at  the  head  of  his  army 
an  unwarlike  clerk  instead  of  some  brave  soldier  ? 
What  clerk,  again,  has  ever  thought  it  otherwise 
than  unworthy  of  him  to  be  bound  to  obey  any 
lay  person  whatsoever  ?  The  very  sign  which 
he  bears  upon  his  head2  is  rather  the  mark  of 
royalty  than  of  servitude  ;  on  the  other  hand,  the 
throne  finds  a  better  support  in  the  force  of  arms 
than  in  chanting  of  Psalms.  Still,  if  the  abasement 
of  the  one  contributes  to  the  greatness  of  the  other, 
as  is  sometimes  the  case  ;  if,  for  example,  the  humi 
liation  of  the  King  raised  higher  the  dignity  of  the 

1  Bernard  here  blames  equally  clerics  who  bear  arms  for  the  King's  pay 
and  kings  who  impose  military  service  upon  clerks.     Each  is  wrong  :  the 
one  because  he  loses  sight  of  the  dignity  of  his  status,  the  others  because 
they  confide  without  choice  or  discrimination  functions  of  the  Court  or  of 
the  Army  upon  clerks  instead  of  giving  them  to  laymen,  as  they  ought. 

2  The  tonsure,  or  clerical  crown. 


84  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

priest,  or  the  abasement  of  the  clerk  added  some 
thing  to  the  royal  honour ;  as  it  happens,  for  in 
stance,  if  a  woman  of  noble  rank  marries  a  man 
of  the  people,  she  indeed  loses  in  grade  by  him, 
but  he  gains  by  her  ;  if,  then,  I  say,  either  the  King 
had  advantage  from  the  clerk,  or  the  clerk  from  the 
King,  it  would  be  an  evil  only  in  part,  and  perhaps 
ought  to  be  borne  with  ;  but,  on  the  contrary,  since 
there  is  no  gain  to  either  from  the  humiliation  of 
the  other,  but  there  is  loss  to  each  ;  since  neither 
does  it  become  a  cleric,  as  has  been  said,  to  be  or 
to  be  called  the  server  of  the  King  ;  nor  is  it  for  the 
King's  advantage  to  put  the  reins  of  government  into 
any  but  strong  and  brave  hands.  Truly  then  it  is 
strange  that  either  power  endures  such  a  man  as 
this  ;  that  the  Church  does  not  repulse  the  deacon- 
soldier,  or  the  State  the  prince-ecclesiastic. 

13.  I  had  wished  to  inculcate  these  principles  by 
still  stronger  and  more  detailed  arguments,  and 
perhaps  ought  to  do  so,  did  not  the  necessary 
limits  of  a  letter  oblige  me  to  defer  this  for  the 
present  ;  and  because,  most  of  all,  I  fear  to  offend 
you,  I  have  spared  a  man  for  whom,  it  is  said,  you 
had  formerly  a  great  regard.  I  would  not  that 
you  should  have  a  friend  at  the  expense  of  the 
truth.  But  you  have  still  a  friendship  for  him  ; 
show  yourself  a  true  friend,  and  exert  yourself  to 
make  him,  too,  a  friend  of  the  Truth.  Then  at 
length  there  will  be  a  true  friendship  between  you, 
if  it  is  bound  together  by  a  common  love  of  truth. 
And  if  he  will  not  yield  to  you  in  this,  hold  fast 
what  you  have  ;  join  the  tail  to  the  head  of  the 
sacrifice.  You  have  received  by  the  grace  of  God 


LETTER    XX  85 

a  robe  of  many  colours  ;  take  pains  to  make  it  reach 
even  to  the  feet,  for  what  will  it  profit  you  to  have 
put  your  hand  to  the  work  if  (which,  God  forbid) 
you  do  not  attain  finally  to  presevere  ?  I  end  my 
letter  by  warning  you  to  make  a  good  ending  of 
your  good  work. 


LETTER    XX    (circa    A.D.    1130) 
To  GUY,  ABBOT  OF  MOLESMES 

Bernard  consoles  him  under  a  great  injustice  which  he  had 
suffered,  and  recommends  him  to  temper  his  vengeance  with 
mercy. 

God  who  knows  the  hearts  of  all  men,  and  is  the 
inspirer  of  all  good  dispositions,  knows  with  what 
sympathy  I  condole  with  you  in  this  your  adversity, 
of  which  I  have  heard.  But,  again,  when  I  consider 
rather  the  person  who  has  caused  you  this  trial  than 
Him  who  permits  it,  just  as  much  as  I  feel  with  you 
in  the  present  misfortune,  so  much  I  hope  soon  to 
rejoice  with  you  in  the  prosperity  which  must  speedily 
come.  But  only  do  not  let  yourself  be  at  all  crushed 
by  discouragement  ;  think  with  me  how,  by  the 
example  of  holy  Job,1  you  ought  to  receive  with  the 
same  cheerfulness  troubles  from  the  hand  of  the  Lord 
as  you  do  blessings.  Indeed,  you  ought,  after  the 
example  of  holy  David,2  not  so  much  to  be  angry 
with  those  people  who  have  caused  you  such  great 
sufferings,  although  they  are  your  own  servants,  as  to 

1  Job  ii.  10.  2  2  Sam.  xvi.  10. 


86  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

know  that  you  ought  to  humble  yourself  under  the 
mighty  hand  of  God,  who  doubtless  has  sent  them  to 
bring  about  this  misfortune  to  you.  But  since  it 
appears  that  their  correction  devolves  upon  you,  as 
they  are  serfs  of  the  Church  committed  to  your 
government,  it  is  proper  that  these  unfaithful  serfs 
should  be  punished  for  their  very  wicked  presumption, 
and  that  the  loss  of  the  monastery  should  be  recom 
pensed  in  some  degree  out  of  their  goods.  But  that 
you  may  not  seem  rather  to  be  avenging  your  own 
injury  in  this  than  punishing  their  fault,  I  beg  you 
and  also  advise  you  not  to  think  so  much  of  what 
they  deserve  as  what  is  fitting  for  you  to  do,  so  that 
mercy  may  be  exalted  above  strict  justice,  and  that 
in  your  moderation  God  may  be  glorified.  For  the 
rest,  I  beg  you  to  press  upon  that  your  son,  who  is 
dear  to  me  as  well  for  your  sake  as  in  a  great  degree 
for  his  own,  with  your  own  lips,  as  with  my  spirit, 
not  to  show  in  his  accusations  a  bitterness  and  a 
violence  such  as  prove  that  he  forgets  that  precept  of 
our  Lord — Whosoever  shall  smite  thee  on  thy  right 
cheek  turn  to  him  the  other  also  (S.  Matt.  v.  39). 


LETTER  XXI   (circa  A.D.   1128) 
To  THE  ABBOT  OF  S.  JOHN  AT  CHARTRES 

Bernard  dissuades  him  from  resigning  his  charge,  and  under 
taking  a  Pilgrimage  to  Jerusalem. 

i.  As  regards  the  matters  about  which  you  were 
so  good  as  to  consult  so  humble  a  person  as  myself, 
I  had  at  first  determined  not  to  reply.  Not  because 


LETTER    XXI  87 

I  had  any  doubt  what  to  say,  but  because  it  seemed 
to  me  unnecessary  or  even  presumptuous  to  give 
counsel  to  a  man  of  sense  and  wisdom.  But  con 
sidering  that  it  usually  happens  that  the  greater 
number  of  persons  of  sense  —  or  I  might  say 
that  all  such  —  trust  the  judgment  of  another 
person  rather  than  their  own  in  doubtful  cases, 
and  that  those  who  have  a  clear  judgment  in 
the  affairs  of  others,  however  obscure,  frequently 
hesitate  and  are  undecided  about  their  own,  I 
depart  from  my  first  resolution,  not,  I  hope,  with 
out  reason,  and  without  prejudice  to  any  wiser 
opinion  explain  to  you  simply  how  the  matter 
appears  to  me.  You  have  signified  to  me,  if  I  do 
not  mistake,  by  the  pious  Abbot  Ursus  of  S.  Denis, 
that  you  have  it  in  contemplation  to  desert  your 
country  and  the  monastery  over  which,  by  the 
Providence  of  God,  you  are  head,  to  undertake 
a  pilgrimage  to  Jerusalem,  to  occupy  yourself 
henceforth  only  with  God  and  the  salvation  of 
your  own  soul.  Perhaps,  if  you  aspire  unto 
perfection,  it  may  be  expedient  for  you  to  leave 
your  country,  when  God  says,  Go  forth  from  thy 
country  and  from  thy  kindred  (Gen.  xii.  i).  But  I 
do  not  see  at  all  on  what  ground  you  ought  to 
risk,  by  your  departure,  the  safety  of  the  souls 
entrusted  to  you.  For  is  it  pleasant  to  enjoy 
liberty  after  having  laid  down  your  burden  ? 
But  charity  does  not  seek  her  own  interests. 
Perhaps  the  wish  for  quiet  and  rest  attracts 
you  ?  But  it  is  obtained  at  the  price  of  the 
peace  of  others.  Freely  will  I  do  without  the 
enjoyment  of  any  desire,  even  a  spiritual  one, 


88  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

which  cannot  be  obtained  except  at  the  price  of 
a  scandal.  For  where  there  is  scandal,  there, 
without  doubt,  is  loss  of  charity :  and  where 
there  is  loss  of  charity,  surely  no  spiritual  advan 
tage  can  be  hoped  for.  Finally,  if  it  is  permitted 
to  any  one  to  prefer  his  own  quiet  to  the 
common  good,  who  is  there  that  can  say  with 
truth  :  For  me  to  live  is  Christ,  and  to  die  is  gain 
(Phil.  i.  21)?  And  where  will  that  principle  be 
which  the  Apostle  declares  :  No  one  lives  to  himself, 
and  no  one  dies  to  himself  (Rom.  xiv.  7)  ;  and,  Not 
seeking  mine  own  profit,  but  the  profit  of  many  (i  Cor. 
x.  33)  ;  and,  That  he  who  lives  should  not  any  longer 
live  unto  himself,  but  unto  Him  who  died  for  all  (2  Cor. 
v.  15)? 

2.  But  you  will  say:  Whence  comes  my  great 
desire,  if  it  is  not  from  God  ?  With  your  per 
mission  I  will  say  what  I  think.  Stolen  waters 
are  sweet  (Prov.  ix.  17);  and  for  whosoever  knows 
the  devices  of  the  devil,  it  is  not  doubtful  that 
the  angel  of  darkness  is  able  to  change  himself 
into  an  angel  of  light,  and  to  pour  upon  the 
thirsting  soul  those  waters  of  which  the  sweet 
ness  is  more  bitter  than  wormwood.  In  truth, 
what  other  can  be  the  suggester  of  scandals,  the 
author  of  dissension,  the  troubler  of  unity  and 
peace,  except  the  devil,  the  adversary  of  truth,  the 
envier  of  charity,  the  ancient  foe  of  the  human  race, 
and  the  enemy  of  the  Cross  of  Christ  ?  If  death 
entered  into  the  world  through  his  envy,  even  so 
now  he  is  jealous  of  whatever  good  he  sees  you 
doing  ;  and  since  he  is  a  liar  from  the  beginning, 
he  falsely  promises  now  better  things  which  he 


LETTER    XXI  89 

does  not  see.  For  when  did  the  Truth  oppose 
that  most  faithful  saying,  Art  thou  bound  unto  a  wife  ? 
seek  not  to  be  loosed  (i  Cor.  vii.  27).  Or  when  did 
charity  urge  to  scandal,  who  at  the  scandals  of 
all  shows  herself  burning  with  regret  ?  He,  then, 
the  most  wicked  one,  opposed  to  charity  by 
envy,  and  to  truth  by  falsehood,  mixing  falsehood 
and  gall  with  the  true  honey,  promises  doubtful 
things  as  certain,  and  gives  out  that  true  things 
are  false,  not  that  he  may  give  you  what  you 
vainly  hope  for,  but  that  he  may  take  away  what 
you  are  profitably  holding  now.  He  prowls 
around  and  seeks  how  he  may  take  away  from 
the  flock  the  care  of  the  pastor,  to  make  a  prey 
of  it  when  there  is  none  to  defend  it  from  his 
attacks ;  and,  besides  this,  to  bring  down  upon 
the  pastor  that  terrible  rebuke,  Woe  to  him  by 
whom  scandal  cometh  (S.  Matt,  xviii.  7).  But  I  have 
full  confidence  in  the  wisdom  given  to  you  by 
God,  that  by  no  cunning  devices  of  the  wicked  one 
you  will  be  seduced  or  made  to  renounce  certain 
good,  and  for  the  hope  of  uncertain  advantage  to 
incur  certain  evil. 


90  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

LETTER    XXII  (circa  A.D.   1129) 
To  SIMON,  ABBOT  OF  S.  NICHOLAS 

Bernard  consoles  him  under  the  persecution  of  which  he 
is  the  object.  The  most  pious  endeavours  do  not  always  have 
the  desired  success.  What  line  of  conduct  ought  to  be  followed 
towards  his  inferiors  by  a  prelate  who  is  desirous  of  stricter 
discipline. 

i.  I  have  learned  with  much  pain  by  your  letter 
the  persecution  that  you  are  enduring  for  the  sake 
of  righteousness,  and  although  the  consolation  given 
you  by  Christ  in  the  promise  of  His  kingdom  may 
suffice  amply  for  you,  none  the  less  is  it  my  duty 
to  render  you  both  all  the  consolation  that  is  in 
my  power,  and  sound  and  faithful  advice  as  far 
as  I  am  able.  For  who  can  see  without  anxiety 
Peter  stretching  his  arms  in  the  midst  of  the  billows? 
— or  hear  without  grief  the  dove  of  Christ  not  sing 
ing,  but  groaning  as  if  she  said,  How  shall  we  sing 
the  Lord's  song  in  a  strange  land?  (Ps.  cxxxvii.  4). 
Who,  I  say,  can  without  tears  look  upon  the  tears 
of  Christ  Himself,  who  from  the  bottom  of  the 
abyss  lifts  now  His  eyes  unto  the  hills  to  see 
from  whence  cometh  His  help  ?  But  we  to  whom 
in  your  humility  you  say  that  you  are  looking, 
are  not  mountains  of  help,  but  are  ourselves  strug 
gling  with  laborious  endeavours  in  this  vale  of  tears 
against  the  snares  of  a  resisting  enemy,  and  the 
violence  of  worldly  malice,  and  with  you  we  cry 
out,  Our  help  is  from  the  Lord,  who  made  Heaven  and 
earth  (Ps.  cxxi.  2). 


LETTER    XXII  91 

2.  All  those,  indeed,  who  wish  to  live  piously 
in  Christ  suffer  persecution  (2  Tim.  iii.  12).  The 
intention  to  live  piously  is  never  wanting  to  them, 
but  it  is  not  always  possible  to  carry  it  perfectly 
out,  for  just  as  it  is  the  mark  of  the  wicked  con 
stantly  to  struggle  against  the  pious  designs  of  the 
good  ;  so  it  is  not  a  reproach  to  the  piety  [of  the 
latter],  even  although  they  are  frequently  unable 
to  perfect  their  just  and  holy  desires,  because  they 
are  few  against  many  opposers.  Thus  Aaron  yielded 
against  his  will  to  the  impious  clamours  of  the 
riotous  people  (Exod.  xxxii.).  So  Samuel  unwill 
ingly  anointed  Saul,  constrained  by  the  too  eager 
desires  of  the  same  people  for  a  king  (i  Sam.  x.). 
So  David,  when  he  wished  to  build  a  Temple,  yet 
because  of  the  numerous  wars  which  that  valorous 
man  had  constantly  to  sustain  against  enemies  who 
molested  him,  he  was  forbidden  to  do  what  he  piously 
proposed  (2  Sam.  vii.).  Similarly,  venerable  father, 
I  counsel  you,  without  prejudice  to  the  better  advice 
of  wiser  persons,  so  to  soften,  for  the  present  only, 
the  rigour  of  your  purpose  of  reform,  and  that  of 
those  who  share  it  with  you,  that  you  may  not  be 
unmindful  of  the  salvation  of  the  weaker  brethren. 
Those,  indeed,  over  whom  you  have  consented  to 
preside  in  that  Order  of  Cluny  ought  to  be  invited 
to  a  stricter  life,  but  they  ought  not  to  be  obliged 
to  embrace  it  against  their  will.  I  believe  that  those 
who  do  desire  to  live  more  strictly  ought  to  be  per 
suaded  either  to  bear  with  the  weaker  out  of  charity 
as  far  as  they  can  without  sin,  or  permitted  to  pre 
serve  the  customs  which  they  desire  in  the  monastery 
itself,  if  that  may  be  done  without  scandal  to  either 


92  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

party  ;  or  at  least  that  they  should  be  set  free  from 
the  Order  to  associate  themselves  where  it  may 
seem  good  with  other  brothers  who  live  according 
to  their  proposal. 


LETTER  XXIII  (circa  A.D.   1130) 
To  THE  SAME 

Bernard  sends  back  to  him  to  be  severely  reprimanded  a  fugitive 
monk.  He  persuades  William,  who  was  meditating  a  change 
of  state  or  retiring  into  private  life,  to  persevere. 

To  his  friend,  Brother  BERNARD,  of  Clairvaux,  all 
that  a  friend  can  wish  for  a  friend. 

i.  You  have  given  me  this  formula  of  salutation 
when  you  wrote,  "  to  his  friend  all  that  a  friend  can 
wish." *  Receive  what  is  thine  own,  and  perceive 
that  the  assumption  of  it  is  a  proof  that  we  are  of 
one  mind,  for  my  heart  is  not  distant  from  him  with 
whom  I  have  language  in  common.  I  must  now 
reply  briefly  to  your  letter,  because  of  the  time  :  for 
when  it  arrived  the  festival  of  the  Nativity  of  our 
Lady 2  had  dawned  ;  and  being  obliged  to  devote 
myself  entirely  to  its  solemnities,  I  had  no  leisure 
to  think  of  anything  else.  Your  messenger  also  was 
anxious  to  be  gone  ;  scarcely  would  he  stay  even 

1  Suus  Hit  quod  suits. 

*  It  was  by  the  example  of  the  Cistercians,  as,  I  think,  all  of  whose 
monasteries  were  dedicated  to  the  Blessed  Virgin,  that  she  began  to  be 
called  Our  Lady.  Hence,  Peter  Cellensis  says  of  Bernard:  "He  was  a 
most  devoted  child  of  Our  Lady,  to  whom  he  dedicated  not  one  church 
only,  but  the  churches  of  the  whole  Cistercian  Order"  (B.  vi.  Ep.  23). 


LETTER    XXIII  93 

until  to-morrow  morning  that  I  might  write  to  you 
these  few  words  after  all  the  Offices  of  the  festival. 
I  send  back  to  you  a  fugitive  brother  after  having 
subjected  him  to  severe  reprimand  suited  to  his  hard 
heart.  It  seemed  to  me  that  there  was  nothing  better 
to  do  than  to  send  him  back  to  the  place  whence  he 
had  fled,  since  I  ought  not,  according  to  our  rules, 
to  detain  any  monk  in  the  house  without  the  consent 
of  his  abbot.  You  ought  to  reprove  him  very  severely 
also,  and  press  him  to  make  humble  satisfaction  and 
then  comfort  him  a  little  by  a  letter  from  yourself 
addressed  to  his  abbot  on  his  behalf. 

2.  Concerning  my  state  of  health,  I  am  not  able 
to  reply  very  precisely  to  your  inquiry  except  that 
I  continue,  as  in  the  past,  to  be  weak  and  ailing, 
neither  much  better  nor  much  worse.  If  I  have  not 
sent  the  person  whom  I  had  thought  of  sending,  it  is 
only  because  I  feel  much  more  the  scandal  to  many 
souls  than  the  danger  of  one  body.  Not  to  pass 
over  any  of  the  matters  of  which  you  speak  to  me, 
I  come  to  yourself.  You  wrote  that  you  wished  to 
know  what  I  desired  you  to  do  (as  if  I  were  aware 
of  all  that  concerned  you).  But  this  plan,  if  I  should 
say  what  I  think,  is  one  that  neither  I  could  counsel 
nor  you  carry  out.  I  wish,  indeed,  for  you  what,  as 
I  have  long  known,  you  wish  for  yourself.  But 
putting  on  one  side,  as  is  right,  both  your  will  and 
mine,  I  think  more  of  what  God  wills  for  you,  and, 
to  my  mind,  it  is  both  safer  for  me  to  advise  you  to 
that,  and  much  more  advantageous  for  you  to  do  it. 
My  advice  is,  then,  that  you  continue  to  hold  your 
present  charge,  to  remain  where  you  are,  and  study 
to  profit  those  over  whom  you  are  set,  nor  flee  from 


94  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

the  cares  of  office  while  you  are  able  to  be  of  use, 
because  woe  to  you  if  you  are  over  the  flock  and 
do  not  profit  them  ;  but  deeper  woe  still  if,  because 
you  fear  the  cares  of  office,  you  abandon  the  oppor 
tunity  of  usefulness. 


LETTER  XXIV  (circa  A.D.   1126) 
To  OGER,  REGULAR  CANON  l 

Bernard  blames  him  for  his  resignation  of  his  pastoral  charge, 
although  made  from  the  love  of  a  calm  and  pious  life. 
None  the  /ess,  he  instructs  him  how,  after  becoming  a 
private  person,  he  ought  to  live  in  community. 

To  Brother  OGER,  the  Canon,  Brother  BERNARD, 
monk  but  sinner,  wishes  that  he  may  walk  worthily 
of  God  even  to  the  end,  and  embraces  him  with  the 
fullest  affection. 

i.  If  I  seem  to  have  been  too  slow  in  replying 
to  your  letter,  ascribe  it  to  my  not  having  had  an 

1  Some  blame  and  some  ridicule  such  a  title  as  this,  as  being  a  vicious 
pleonasm,  since  these  two  words  differ  only  in  the  language  from  which 
each  is  borrowed,  and  mean  exactly  the  same  thing ;  as  if  canons  were 
something  different  from  regulars,  or  as  if  there  were  some  canons  who 
were  regulars  and  others  who  were  not.  But  it  may  be  seen  in  John  Bapt. 
Signy  Lib.  de  Ord.  Canon,  \\.  ii.,  and  Navarre,  Com.  I.  de  Regul.  ad  c.  12, 
Cui  portio  Detis,  q.  i,  where  he  shows  that  every  pleonasm  is  not  neces 
sarily  a  battology.  For  in  legal  documents  certain  expressions  or  clauses 
are  often  repeated  to  give  them  more  force.  It  is  the  same  in  Hebrew 
(Ps.  Ixxxvii.  5,  Ps.  Ixviii.  12  VULG.  and  Ixx.). 

Oger  was  the  first  Dean  of  the  Regular  Canons  of  S.  Nicholas  des  Pres, 
near  Tournay.  Picard  states  this  upon  the  authority  of  Denis  Viller,  Canon 
and  Chancellor  of  Tournay. 


LETTER    XXIV  95 

opportunity  to  send  to  you.  For  what  you  now  read 
was  written  long  since,  but,  as  I  have  said,  though 
written  without  delay,  was  delayed  for  want  of  a 
bearer.  I  have  read  in  your  letter  that  you  have  laid 
down  with  regret  the  burden  of  your  pastoral  charge, 
permission  having  been  obtained  with  great  difficulty, 
or  rather,  extorted  by  your  importunity,  from  your 
Bishop  ;  and  only  on  the  condition  that  you  should 
remain  under  his  authority,  though  fixing  yourself 
elsewhere.  But  this  not  being  satisfactory  to  you, 
you  appealed  to  the  Archbishop,  and,  obtaining  the 
relaxation  of  this  condition,  you  have  returned  to 
your  former  house  and  put  yourself  under  your 
original  abbot.  Now  you  ask  to  be  advised  by  me 
as  to  how  you  ought  to  live  henceforth.  An  able 
teacher,  indeed,  and  incomparable  master  am  I  ! 
And  when  I  shall  have  begun  to  teach  what  I  do 
not  know  myself,  it  will  soon  be  discovered  that 
I  know  nothing.  You  act,  in  consulting  me,  as  a 
sheep  who  seeks  wool  from  a  goat,  a  mill  expecting 
water  from  an  oven,  a  wise  man  expecting  sound 
counsel  from  a  fool.  Besides  this,  you  heap  upon 
me,  from  one  end  of  your  letter  to  the  other,  com 
plimentary  speeches,  and  attribute  to  me  excellences 
of  which  I  am  not  conscious  ;  and  as  I  ascribe  them 
to  your  kind  feelings,  so  I  forgive  them  to  your 
ignorance.  For  you  look  upon  the  countenance, 
but  God  upon  the  heart  ;  and  if  I  examine  myself 
with  attention  under  His  awful  gaze,  I  find  that  I 
know  myself  much  better  than  you  know  me,  since 
I  am  much  less  far  from  myself  than  you  are. 
Therefore  I  give  greater  credence  to  that  which  I  see 
in  myself  than  to  what  you  suppose,  without  seeing, 


96  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

to  be  in  me.  Nevertheless,  if  you  may  have  heard 
from  me  anything  that  is  profitable  to  you,  give 
thanks  to  God,  in  whose  hand  I  am  and  all  my 
words. 

2.  You  explain  to  me  also  for  what  reason  you 
have  not  followed  my  advice,  not  only  not  to  allow 
yourself  to  be  discouraged  or  overcome  by  despon 
dency,  but  to  bear  patiently  the  burden  laid  upon  you, 
which  once  undertaken  you  were  not  at  liberty  to 
lay  down  ;  and  I  accept  your  explanations.  I  am 
well  aware,  indeed,  of  the  infertility  of  my  wisdom, 
and  I  always  hold  myself  in  suspicion  for  rashness 
and  inexperience,  so  that  I  ought  not  to  take  it  ill, 
nor  do  I,  when  the  course  which  I  approve  is  not 
taken ;  and  I  wish,  on  the  contrary,  that  action 
should  be  taken  on  better  advice  than  mine.  As 
often  as  my  opinion  is  chosen  and  followed  I  feel 
myself  weighed  down,  I  confess  it,  with  responsibility, 
and  await  with  inquietude,  never  with  confidence, 
the  issue  of  the  matter.  Yet  it  is  for  you  to  see 
if  you  have  acted  wisely  in  not  following  my  advice 
about  this  thing ; 1  it  must  be  decided  also  by  those 

1  Bernard  had  counselled  him  not  to  resign  his  abbacy,  and  this  advice 
he  had  not  followed.  Hence  is  suggested  the  serious  question  :  Is  it  lawful 
to  lay  down  the  pastoral  charge,  to  withdraw  one's  self  from  cares  and 
business,  for  the  purpose  of  serving  God  in  peace  and  quiet,  and  caring  for 
one's  own  soul  ?  The  examples  of  so  many  holy  men  whom  we  know  to 
have  done  this  add  to  the  difficulty  of  the  question.  Many  might  be  cited 
among  prelates  of  lower  rank,  not  a  few  Bishops,  Cardinals,  and  even  some 
Popes.  Bruno  III.,  Count  of  Altena,  and  afterwards  Bishop  of  Cologne, 
quitted  his  see,  in  1119,  and  retired  to  the  Cistercian  monastery  of  Alden- 
berg.  Eskilus,  Archbishop  of  Lunden,  in  Denmark,  came  to  live  at 
Clairvaux  as  a  simple  monk ;  Peter  Damian,  who,  from  a  Benedictine 
monk,  became  Cardinal  and  Bishop  of  Ostia,  after  he  had  rendered  signal 
service  to  the  Church  for  a  number  of  years,  with  wonderful  constancy,  in 


LETTER    XXIV  97 

wiser  persons  than  I,  on  whose  authority  you  have 
relied,  whether  you  have  done  according  to  reason. 
They  will  tell  you,  I  say,  whether  it  is  lawful  for 
a  Christian  man  to  lay  down  the  burden  of  obedience 
before  his  death,  when  Christ  was  made  obedient 
to  the  Father  even  unto  death.  You  will  reply, 
"  I  have  acted  by  license,  asked  and  received  from 
the  Bishop."  True,  you  have,  indeed,  asked  for 
license,  but  in  a  manner  you  ought  not  to  have 

the  high  office  to  which  he  had  been  raised,  returned  into  his  cell  from  love 
of  solitude  and  quiet,  and  passed  the  rest  of  his  days  in  profound  peace,  in 
the  midst  of  his  brethren  ;  but  was  blamed  by  the  Pope  because  he,  a  useful 
and  able  man,  postponed  public  usefulness  to  his  private  safety.  One 
remarkable  fact  is  recorded  of  him,  that  the  Pope  imposed  upon  him  a 
penance  of  a  hundred  years  for  quitting  his  Bishopric  :  he  was  to  recite 
Ps.  1.  [15.]  and  give  himself  the  discipline  every  day  for  a  hundred  years ; 
and  this  he  completed  entirely  in  the  space  of  one  year.  This  I  remember 
to  have  read  somewhere  (  Works,  Vol.  i.  ep.  10,  new  ed.,  Vol.  iii.  opusc.  20). 
To  Pope  Alexander  and  Cardinal  Hildebrand,  who  became  Pope  later 
under  the  name  of  Gregory  VII.,  he  tries  to  justify  his  quitting  his  see, 
and  opposes  numerous  examples  of  conduct  similar  to  his,  to  the  blame  of 
the  Pope  and  the  cardinals. 

But  it  is  necessary  to  hold  to  what  the  law  prescribes  rather  than  to  the 
examples  of  other  persons.  The  Angelical  Doctor  says  :  "  Every  pastor 
is  obliged  by  his  function  to  labour  for  the  salvation  of  others,  and  it  is  not 
permitted  to  him  to  cease  to  do  so,  not  even  to  have  leisure  for  peaceful 
meditation  upon  spiritual  things.  For  the  Apostle  regards  the  obligation 
to  occupy  himself  with  the  salvation  of  others  who  depend  upon  him  as 
being  of  such  importance  that  it  must  not  be  postponed  even  to  heavenly 
meditation  :  /  know  not  what  to  choose,  he  says,  for  I  am  in  a  strait 
betwixt  two,  having  a  desire  to  depart  and  to  be  with  Christ,  which  is  far 
better ;  nevertheless,  to  abide  in  the  flesh  is  more  needful  for  you  (Phil.  i. 
22-23).  It  may  be  added  that  the  Episcopate  being  a  state  more  perfect 
than  that  of  the  monk,  it  follows  that  just  as  it  is  not  permitted  to  quit  the 
second  to  re-enter  the  world,  s<>  it  is  not  allowable  to  renounce  the  first  in 
order  to  embrace  the  second,  considering  that  the  latter  is  less  perfect  than 
the  former.  That  would  precisely  be  to  look  back  after  having  put  one's 
hand  to  the  plough,  and  to  show  one's  self  unfit  for  the  kingdom  of  God  " 
(S.  Luke  ix.  62). 

G 


98  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

done,  and,  therefore,  have  rather  extorted  than  asked 
it.  But  an  extorted  or  compelled  license  should 
rather  be  called  violence.  What,  therefore,  the 
Bishop  did  unwillingly,  when  overcome  by  your 
importunity,  was  not  to  release  you  from  your  obli 
gations,  but  violently  to  break  them. 

3.  You  may  indeed  be   congratulated,  since   you 
are  thus  exonerated  ;   but   I   fear  lest  you  have,   as 
much  as  lieth  in  you,  taken  from  the  glory1  of  God, 
whose  will  you,  beyond  doubt,  resist  in  casting  your 
self  down  from  the  post  to  which  He  had  advanced 
you.     Perhaps  you  excuse  yourself  by  pleading  the 
necessity  of  religious  poverty ;  but  it  is  necessity  that 
brings  the  crown,  in  rendering  achievements  difficult 
and  almost  impossible  ;  for  all  things  are  possible  to 
him  who  has  faith.     But  answer  to  me  what  is  most 
true,  that  you  have  consulted  your  own  quiet,  rather 
than  the  advantage  of  others.     Nor  is  this  strange. 
I   confess  that  I,  too,  am  pleased  that  quiet  should 
delight  you,  if  only  it  does  not  delight  you  too  much. 
For  that,  even  although  a  great  thing,  which  pleases 
us  to  such  a  degree  that  we  wish  to  bring  it  about, 
even  although  by  wrong  means,  pleases  us  too  much  ; 
and  because   it   cannot  be   brought  about   by  right 
means,  it  ceases  to  be  good.     For  if  you  offer  rightly, 
but  do  not  divide  rightly,  you  have  sinned  (Gen.  iv.  7,  Ixx.). 
Either,  therefore,   you  ought  not   to  have  accepted 
the  cure  of  the  Lord's  flock,  or,  having  accepted  it, 
ought  not  to  have  relinquished  it,  according  to  those 
words  :  Art  thou  bound  unto  a  wife  ?  seek  not  to  be  loosed 
(i  Cor.  vii.  27). 

4.  But  to  what  end  do  I  strive  in  these  arguments  ? 

1  Exoneratus  ;  exhonoratus. 


LETTER    XXIV  99 

To  persuade  you  to  take  your  charge  again  ?  You 
cannot,  since  it  is  no  longer  vacant.  Or  to  drive  you 
to  despair  by  fixing  upon  you  the  blame  of  a  fault 
which  you  are  no  longer  able  to  repair  ?  By  no 
means  ;  I  wish  only  that  you  should  not  neglect  the 
fault  you  have  committed,  as  if  it  were  nothing  or 
nothing  much,  but  that  you  should  rather  repent 
of  it  with  fear  and  trembling,  as  it  is  written  :  Happy 
is  the  man  that  feareth  alway  (Prov.  xxviii.  14).  But 
the  fear  which  I  wish  to  inspire  is  not  that  which 
falls  into  the  nets  of  desperation,  but  \vhich  brings 
to  us  the  hope  of  blessedness.  There  is,  indeed, 
a  fear,  useless,  gloomy,  and  cruel,  which  does  not 
seek  pardon,  and,  therefore,  does  not  obtain  it. 
There  is  also  a  fear,  pious,  humble,  and  fruitful, 
which  easily  obtains  mercy  for  a  sinner,  however 
great  be  his  offence.  Such  a  fear  produces,  nourishes, 
and  preserves  not  only  humility,  but  also  sweetness, 
patience,  and  forbearance.  Whom  does  not  so 
blameless  an  offspring  delight  ?  But  of  the  other 
fear  the  miserable  progeny  is  obstinacy,  excessive 
sorrow,  rancour,  horror,  contempt,  and  desperation. 
I  have  wished  to  recall  you  to  the  remembrance  of 
your  fault,  but  only  in  order  to  awaken  in  you,  not 
the  fear  which  produces  desperation,  but  that  which 
produces  hope ;  being  afraid  lest  you  should  not  have 
any  fear  at  all,  or  should  have  too  little. 

5.  There  is  something,  however,  which  I  fear  still 
more  for  you,  namely,  that  which  is  written  of  certain 
sinners,  that  they  rejoice  in  having  done  evil  and  delight 
in  wicked  actions  (Prov.  ii.  14)  ;  that  you  should  be 
deceived,  and  not  only  think  that  what  you  have 
done  is  not  wrong,  but  also  (which,  God  forbid) 


ioo  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

glory  in  your  heart,  thinking  that  you  have  done 
something  great,  and  which  is  usually  done  by  few, 
in  renouncing  voluntarily  the  power  to  command 
others,  and,  despising  rule,  have  preferred  to  be  sub 
jected  again  to  a  ruler.  That  would  be  a  false 
humility,  causing  real  pride  in  the  heart  of  him  that 
should  think  such  thoughts.  For  what  can  be  more 
proud  than  to  ascribe  to  spontaneous  and,  as  it  were, 
free  choice  that  which  the  force  of  necessity  or  faint 
hearted  weakness  obliges  us  to  do  ?  But  if  you  have 
not  been  forced  by  necessity  or  exhausted  by  labour, 
but  have  done  it  willingly,  there  is  nothing  more 
proud  than  this ;  for  you  have  put  your  own  will 
before  that  of  God,  you  have  chosen  to  taste  the 
sweetness  of  repose  rather  than  serve  diligently  in 
the  work  to  which  He  has  set  you.  If,  then,  you 
have  not  only  despised  God,  but  glory  in  utterly 
contemning  Him,  your  glorying  is  not  good.  Be 
ware  of  boastfulness  and  self-satisfaction  ;  more  use 
ful  for  you  were  it  to  be  always  in  care,  always 
humbly  trembling,  not,  as  I  have  said,  with  the  fear 
that  provokes  wrath,  but  with  that  which  softens  it. 

6.  If  that  horrible  fear  ever  knocks  at  the  door 
of  your  soul  to  terrify  it,  and  to  suggest  that  your 
service  to  God  cannot  be  accepted,  and  that  your 
penitence  is  unfruitful  because  that  in  which  God  has 
been  offended  by  you  cannot  be  amended ;  do  not 
receive  it  even  for  a  moment,  but  reply  with  con 
fidence  :  I  have  done  wrong  indeed,  but  it  is  done 
and  cannot  be  undone.  Who  knows  if  God  has 
foreseen  that  good  should  come  to  me  out  of  it,  and 
that  He  who  is  good  has  willed  to  do  me  good  even 
from  my  evil  ?  Let  Him  then  punish  the  evil  which 


LETTER    XXIV  101 

I  have  done,  but  let  the  good  which  He  had  pro 
vided  for  remain.  The  goodness  of  God  knew  how 
to  use  our  ill-governed  wills  and  actions  to  the  beauty 
of  the  order  which  He  established,  and  often,  in  His 
goodness,  even  to  our  benefit.  O  indulgent  bounty 
of  Divine  love  towards  the  sons  of  Adam  !  which 
does  not  cease  to  load  us  with  benefits,  not  only 
where  no  merit  was  found,  but  often  even  where 
entire  demerit  was  seen.  But  let  us  return  to  you. 
According  to  the  two  kinds  of  fear  which  are  dis 
tinguished  above,  I  wish  you  to  fear,  and  yet  not  to 
fear  ;  to  presume,  and  yet  not  to  presume.  To  feel 
that  you  may  repent,  not  to  feel  that  you  may  have 
confidence  ;  and  again,  to  have  confidence  that  you 
may  not  distrust,  and  not  to  be  confident  that  you 
may  not  grow  inactive. 

7.  You  perceive,  brother,  how  much  confidence 
I  have  in  you,  since  I  permit  myself  to  blame  you  so 
sharply,  to  judge  and  disapprove  so  freely  what  you 
have  done,  when  perhaps  you  have  had  better  reasons 
for  doing  it  than  have  hitherto  been  made  known  to 
me.  For  you  have  not  perhaps  wished  to  state  those 
reasons  in  your  letters,  by  which  your  action  might 
well  be  excused,  either  through  your  humility  or 
through  want  of  space.  Leaving,  then,  undecided 
for  the  present  my  opinion  about  any  part  of  the 
matter  with  which  I  may  not  be  fully  acquainted, 
one  thing  that  you  have  done  I  unreservedly  praise, 
namely,  that  when  you  had  laid  down  the  yoke  of 
ruling,  yet  without  a  yoke  you  were  not  willing  to 
continue,  but  took  up  again  a  discipline  to  which 
you  were  attached,  without  being  ashamed  to  become 
a  simple  disciple  when  you  had  borne  the  title  of 


102  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

master.  For  you  were  able,  when  freed  from  your 
pastoral  charge,  to  remain  under  your  own  authority, 
since  in  becoming  abbot  you  were  released  from  the 
obedience  owed  to  your  former  abbot.1  But  you  did 
not  wish  to  be  under  no  authority  but  your  own, 
and  as  you  had  declined  to  rule  over  others,  so  you 
shrunk  from  rule  over  yourself  ;  and  inasmuch  as 
you  thought  yourself  not  fit  to  be  the  master  of 
others,  so  also  you  did  not  trust  yourself  to  be  your 
own  master,  and  in  your  distrust  of  yourself,  even 
for  your  own  guidance,  would  not  be  your  own  dis 
ciple.  And  rightly.  For  he  who  makes  himself  his 
own  master,  subjects  himself  to  a  fool  as  master. 
I  know  not  what  others  may  think  of  this  ;  as  for 
me,  I  have  had  experience  of  what  I  say,  that  it  is 
far  more  easy  and  safe  to  govern  many  others  than 
my  own  single  self.  It  was,  therefore,  a  proof  of 
prudent  humility  and  of  humble  prudence  that,  by 
no  means  believing  that  you  were  sufficient  for  your 
own  salvation,  you  proposed  to  live  henceforth  by  the 
judgment  of  another  person. 

8.  I  praise  you  also  that  you  did  not  seek  out 
another  master  nor  another  place,  but  returned  to 
the  cloister  whence  you  had  gone  forth,  and  to  the 
master  under  whom  you  had  made  progress  in  good. 
It  was  very  right  that  the  house  which  had  nurtured 
you,  but  had  sent  you  forth  through  brotherly 
charity,  should  receive  you  when  freed  from  your 
charge,  rather  than  that  another  house  should  have 
in  its  place  the  joy  of  possessing  you.  As,  however, 
you  have  not  obtained  the  sanction  of  the  Bishop  for 

1  Because  a  monk,  when  he  became  an  abbot,  was  freed  from  the  control 
of  his  own  abbot. 


LETTER    XXIV  103 

what  you  have  done,  do  not  be  negligent  in  seeking 
it,  but  either  yourself,  or  through  some  third  person, 
be  prompt  to  give  him  satisfaction  as  far  as  is  in 
your  power.  After  this,  study  to  lead  a  simple  life 
among  your  brethren,  devoted  to  God,  submissive 
to  your  superior,  respectful  towards  the  older  monks, 
and  obliging  towards  the  younger.  Be  profitable  in 
word,  humble  in  heart,  pleasing  to  the  Angels, 
courteous  to  all.  But  beware  of  thinking  that  you 
have  a  right  to  be  honoured  more  than  others  be 
cause  you  were  once  placed  in  a  position  of  dignity, 
but  show  yourself  as  one  among  the  rest,  only  more 
humble  than  all.  For  it  is  not  becoming  that  you 
should  be  honoured  on  account  of  a  post,  the  labour 
of  which  you  have  shunned. 

9.  Another  danger  also  may  arise  from  this  of 
which  I  wish  to  forewarn  you  and  strengthen  you 
against  it.  For  as  we  are  very  changeable,  and  it 
frequently  happens  that  what  we  wished  for  yesterday 
to-day  we  refuse,  and  what  we  shrink  from  to-day 
to-morrow  we  desire,  so  it  may  happen  sometime 
by  the  temptation  of  the  devil  that,  from  the  remem 
brance  of  the  honour  you  have  resigned,  a  selfish 
desire  may  knock  at  the  door  of  your  heart,  and  you 
may  begin  weakly  to  covet  what  you  bravely  resigned. 
The  recollection  of  things  which  before  were  bitter 
to  you  will  then  be  sweet ;  the  dignity  of  the  posi 
tion,  the  care  of  the  house,  and  the  administration 
of  its  property,  the  respectful  obedience  of  domestics, 
the  freedom  of  your  own  actions,  the  power  over 
others ;  it  may  be  as  much  a  source  of  regret  to 
you  that  you  have  given  up  these  things,  as  it  was 
before  of  weariness  to  bear  them.  If  you  yield  even 


104  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

for  an  hour  (which  may  God  forbid)  to  this  most 
injurious  temptation  you  will  suffer  great  loss  to  your 
spiritual  life. 

10.  This  is  the  whole  of  the  wisdom  of  that  most 
accomplished  and  eloqueut  Doctor,  by  whom  you 
have  wished  to  be  taught  from  such  a  distance.  This 
is  the  eulogy,  desired  and  waited  for,  which  you  have 
been  so  eager  to  hear.  This  is  the  sum  of  all  my 
wisdom.  Do  not  look  for  any  other  great  thing 
from  me ;  you  have  heard  all.  What  can  you  re 
quire  more  ?  The  fountain  is  drained,  and  would 
you  seek  water  from  the  dry  sand  ?  I  have  sent 
you,  according  to  the  example  of  that  widow  in  the 
Gospel,1  out  of  my  poverty  all  that  I  had.  Why  art 
thou  ashamed,  and  why  does  thy  countenance  fall  ? 
You  have  obliged  me.  You  have  asked  for  a  dis 
course  ;  a  discourse  you  have.  A  discourse,  I  say, 
long  enough,  indeed,  but  saying  nothing ;  full  of 
words,  empty  of  meaning.  Such  is  the  discourse 
which  ought  to  be  received  by  you  with  charity,  as 
you  have  requested  it,  but  which  only  seems  to  reveal 
my  lack  of  knowledge.  Perhaps  it  would  not  be 
impossible  for  me  to  find  excuses  for  it.  Thus  I 
might  say  that  I  have  dictated  it  while  labouring 
under  a  tertian  fever,  as  also  while  occupied  with 
the  cares  of  my  office,  while  yet  it  is  written,  Write 
at  leisure  of  wisdom  (founded  on  Ecclus.  xxxviii.  25). 
I  should  rightly  put  these  reasons  forward  if  I  had 
adventured  upon  some  great  and  laborious  work. 
But  now,  in  such  a  brief  treatise  that  my  engage 
ments  afford  me  no  excuse,  I  can  allege  nothing, 

1  S.  Luke  xxi.  2-4. 


LETTER    XXIV  105 

as   I   have  often   said  already,   but   the  insufficiency 
of  my  knowledge. 

ii.  But  I  console  myself  in  my  mortification  by 
considering  that  if  I  had  not  done  as  you  requested, 
if  I  had  not  sent  what  you  hoped  for,  you  would  not 
have  been  quite  sure  of  my  goodwill  to-day.  I  hope 
that  my  good  intention  will  content  you  when  you 
see  that  the  power  to  do  more  was  wanting  to  me. 
And  although  my  Letter  be  without  utility  to  you, 
it  will  profit  me  in  promoting  humility.  Even  a  fool 
when  he  holdelh  his  peace  is  counted  wise  (Prov.  xvii.  28), 
for  that  he  holds  his  peace  is  counted  to  him  as  the 
reserve  of  humility,  not  as  want  of  sense.  If,  then, 
I  had  still  kept  silence,  I  should  have  had  the  benefit 
of  a  similar  judgment,  and  have  been  called  wise 
without  being  so.  But  now  some  will  ridicule  me 
as  a  man  of  little  wisdom,  some  laugh  at  me  as 
ignorant,  and  others  indignantly  accuse  me  of  pre 
sumption.  Do  not  think  that  all  this  serves  little 
to  the  profit  of  religion,  since  humility,  which 
humiliation  teaches  us  to  practise,  is  the  foundation 
of  the  entire  spiritual  fabric.  Thus  humiliation  is 
the  way  to  humility,  as  patience  to  peace,  as  reading 
is  to  knowledge.  If  you  long  for  the  virtue  of 
humility,  you  must  not  flee  from  the  way  of  humi 
liation.  For  if  you  do  not  allow  yourself  to  be 
humiliated,  you  cannot  attain  to  humility.  It  is  a 
benefit  to  me,  therefore,  that  my  ignorance  should 
be  made  known,  and  that  I  should  be  rightly  put 
to  confusion  by  those  who  are  instructed,  since  I 
have  often  been  undeservedly  praised  by  those  who 
could  not  form  a  correct  opinion.  The  fear  of  the 
Apostle  makes  me  fear  when  he  says,  /  forbear,  lest 


io6  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

any  man  should  think  of  me  above  that  which  he  seeth  me 
to  be,  or  that  he  heareth  of  me  (2  Cor.  xii.  6).  How 
finely  he  has  said  /  spare  [restrain]  you.  The  arro 
gant,  the  proud,  the  desirous  of  vainglory,  the 
boaster  of  his  own  deeds,  who  either  takes  merit 
to  himself  for  what  he  has  done,  or  even  claims 
what  he  has  not  done,  he  does  not  restrain  him 
self.  He  alone  who  is  truly  humble,  he  restrains 
his  own  soul,  who  is  even  afraid  to  let  the  ex 
cellency  that  is  in  him  be  known,  that  he  may  not 
be  thought  to  be  what  he  is  not. 

12.  Great  in  truth  is  the  danger,  that  any  one 
should  speak  of  us  above  what  we  feel  our  desert 
to  be.  Who  shall  give  me  to  be  as  deservedly 
humiliated  among  men  for  well-founded  reasons  as 
I  have  been  undeservedly  praised  for  ill-founded 
ones  ?  I  should,  then,  be  able  to  take  to  myself 
the  word  of  the  Prophet :  After  having  been  exalted 
I  have  been  cast  down  and  filled  with  confusion  (Ps. 
Ixxxviii.  15,  VULG.),  and  this,  /  will  play  and  will  be  yet 
more  vile  (2  Sam.  vi.  21,  22).  Yes,  I  will  play  this 
foolish  game  that  I  may  be  ridiculed.  It  is  a  good 
folly,  at  which  Michal  is  angry  and  God  is  pleased. 
A  good  folly  which  affords  a  ridiculous  spectacle, 
indeed,  to  men,  but  to  angels  an  admirable  one. 
Yes,  I  repeat  ;  an  excellent  folly,  by  which  we  are 
exposed  to  disgrace  from  the  rich  and  disdain  from 
the  proud.  For,  in  truth,  what  do  we  appear  to 
people  of  the  world  to  do  except  indulge  in  folly, 
since  what  they  seek  with  eagerness  in  this  world 
we,  on  the  contrary,  shun,  and  what  they  avoid  we 
eagerly  seek  ?  Upon  the  eyes  of  all  we  produce  the 
effect  of  jugglers  and  tumblers,  who  stand  or  walk 


LETTER    XXV  107 

on  their  hands,  contrary  to  human  nature,  with  their 
heads  downwards  and  feet  in  the  air.  But  our 
foolish  game  has  nothing  boyish  in  it,  nothing  of  the 
spectacle  at  the  theatre,  which  represents  low  actions, 
and  with  effeminate  and  corrupt  gestures  and  bend- 
ings  provoke  the  passions,  but  it  is  cheerful,  honour 
able,  grave,  decent,  and  capable  of  delighting  even 
the  celestial  beings  who  gaze  upon  it.  This  it  was 
he  was  engaged  in,  who  said,  We  are  made  a  spectacle 
to  Angels  and  to  men  (i  Cor.  iv.  9).  May  it  be  ours 
also  in  this  meantime,  that  we  may  be  ridiculed, 
confounded,  humiliated,  until  He  shall  come  who 
puts  down  the  powerful  and  exalts  the  humble,  to 
fill  us  with  joy  and  glory,  and  to  raise  us  up  for  ever 
and  ever. 


LETTER  XXV.  (circa  A.D.    1127) 
To  THE  SAME 

Bernard,  being  hindered  by  many  occupations,  has  not  yet 
been  able  to  find  time  to  satisfy  his  wishes,  and  is  obliged 
even  to  write  to  him  very  briefly.  He  forbids  a  certain 
one  of  his  treatises  to  be  made  public  unless  it  were  read 
over  and  corrected. 

i.  I  pass  over  now  my  want  of  experience,  my 
humble  profession,  or  rather  my  profession  of 
humility,  nor  do  I  shelter  myself  behind  (I  do  not 
say  my  lowness,  but,  at  least)  my  mediocrity  of 
position  or  name,  since  whatever  I  should  allege  of 
that  kind  you  would  declare  to  be  rather  a  pretext 


io8  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

for  delay  than  a  reasonable  excuse.  It  seems  to 
me  that  you  interpret  my  shyness  and  modesty  at 
your  will,  now  as  indiscretion,  now  as  false  humility, 
and  now  as  real  pride.  Of  these  reasons,  therefore, 
since  they  would  appear  doubtful  to  you,  I  say 
nothing.  Only  I  wish  that  your  friendship  should 
be  fully  convinced  of  one  thing,  that  since  the 
departure  of  your  messenger  (not  the  one  who 
carries  this  letter,  but  the  other)  left  me  I  have 
not  had  a  single  instant  of  leisure  to  do  what  you 
asked,  so  busy  are  my  days  and  so  short  my  nights. 
Even  now  your  latest  letter  has  found  me  so  en 
grossed  that  it  would  take  me  too  long  to  write  to 
you  the  mere  occupations,  which  would  be  my 
excuse  with  you.  I  have  scarcely  been  able  even 
to  read  your  letter  through,  except  during  my  dinner, 
for  at  that  hour  it  was  delivered  to  me,  and  scarcely 
have  I  been  able  to  write  back  to  you  these  few 
words  hastily  and,  as  it  were,  furtively.  You  will 
see  that  you  must  not  complain  of  the  brevity  of  my 
letter. 

2.  To  speak  the  truth,  my  dear  Oger,  I  am  forced 
to  be  angry  with  all  these  cares,  and  that  on  your 
account,  although  in  them,  as  my  conscience  bears 
witness,  I  desire  to  serve  only  charity,  by  the  require 
ments  of  which,  as  I  am  debtor  both  to  the  wise  and 
to  the  unwise,  I  have  been  made  unable  as  yet  to 
satisfy  your  wishes.  What,  then  ?  Does  Charity 
deny  to  you  what  you  ask  in  the  name  of  Charity  ? 
You  have  requested  and  begged,  you  have  knocked 
at  the  door,  and  Charity  has  rendered  your  requests 
unavailing.  Why  are  you  angry  with  me  ?  It  is 
Charity  whom  you  must  be  angry  with,  if  you  will 


LETTER    XXV  109 

and  dare  to  be  so,  since  it  is  she  who  is  the  cause 
that  you  have  not  obtained  what  you  expected  to 
have  by  her  means.  Already  she  is  displeased  at 
my  long  discourse,  and  is  angry  with  you  who  have 
imposed  it.  Not  that  the  ardour  with  which  you  do 
this  is  displeasing  to  her,  since  it  is  she  which  has 
inspired  you  with  it,  but  she  wishes  that  your  zeal 
should  be  ruled  according  to  knowledge,  and  that 
you  should  be  careful  not  to  hinder  greater  things 
for  the  sake  of  lesser.  You  see  how  unwillingly  I 
am  torn  away  from  writing  to  you  at  greater  length, 
since  the  pleasure  of  conversing  with  you,  and  the 
wish  to  satisfy  you,  make  me  troublesome  to  my 
mistress,  Charity,  who  has  long  since  been  bidding 
me  to  make  an  end,  and  I  am  not  yet  silent.  How 
wide  is  the  matter  for  reply  in  your  letter,  if  it  were 
permissible  to  do  as  you  would  wish,  and  as  I,  too, 
should,  perhaps,  be  well  enough  pleased  to  do ! 
But  she  who  requires  otherwise  of  me  is  mistress, 
or  rather  is  the  Master.  For  God  is  charily  (i  S. 
John  iv.  1 6),  and  it  is  very  evident  that  such  is  her 
authority,  that  I  ought  to  obey  her  rather  than  either 
myself  or  you.  And  since  it  is  incumbent  on  Charity 
to  obey  God  rather  than  men,  I  unwillingly,  and  with 
grief,  put  off  for  a  time  the  doing  what  you  ask,  not 
refuse  altogether  to  do  it,  and  I  fear  in  endeavouring 
humbly  to  respond  to  your  desires  to  appear  to  wish, 
under  the  pretext  of  a  pretended  humility,  which  is 
only  pure  pride,  to  revolt  here  below,  I,  who  am 
only  a  miserable  worm  of  the  earth,  against  the 
strength  of  that  power  which,  as  you  truly  declare, 
rules  even  the  Angels  in  heaven. 

3.  As  for  the  little  treatise  which  you  ask  for,  I 


no  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

had  asked  for  it  back  again  from  the  person  to  whom 
I  had  lent  it,  even  before  your  messenger  came  to 
me,  but  I  have  not  yet  received  it  ;  but  I  will  take 
care  that  at  all  events  when  you  come  here,  if  you 
are  ever  coming,  you  shall  find  it  here,  see  and  read 
it,  but  not  transcribe  it.  For  that  other  treatise 
which  you  mention  that  you  have  transcribed  I  had 
sent  to  you  to  be  read,  indeed,  but  not  to  be  copied  ; 
and  I  do  not  know  to  what  good  purpose  or  for 
whose  good  you  can  have  done  it.  In  sending  it  to 
you  I  did  not  intend  that  the  Abbot  of  S.  Thierry 
should  have  it,1  and  I  had  not  bidden  you  to  send  it; 
but  I  am  not  displeased  that  you  have  done  so.  For 
why  should  I  be  afraid  that  my  little  book  should 
pass  under  his  eyes,  under  whose  gaze  I  would 
willingly  spread  my  whole  soul  if  I  were  able  ?  But, 
alas !  why  does  the  mention  of  so  good  a  man 
present  itself  at  such  a  time  of  hurried  discourse, 
when  it  is  not  permitted  to  me  to  linger,  as  would 
be  fitting,  and  converse  with  you  about  that  excellent 
man,  when  I  ought  already  to  have  come  to  the  end 
of  my  letter  ?  I  entreat  you  to  make  an  opportunity 
of  going  to  see  him,  and  do  not  give  out  my  book  to 
be  read  or  copied  until  you  shall  have  gone  over  the 
whole  of  it  with  him  ;  read  it  then  together  and 
correct  what  in  it  needs  correction,  that  every  word 
in  it  may  have  the  support  of  two  witnesses.  After 
that,  I  commit  to  the  judgment  of  each  of  you 

1  He  is  here,  without  doubt,  speaking  of  the  Apology  to  the  Abbot 
William.  Oger  was  at  Clairvaux  while  Bernard  was  writing  it,  as  appears 
from  the  last  words  of  that  work.  But  as  he  left  before  the  final  touches 
were  put  to  it,  Bernard  afterwards  sent  it  to  him  for  perusal;  and  he, 
without  direction,  communicated  it  to  Abbot  William,  to  whom  it  was 
inscribed,  and  to  whom  Bernard  intended  to  send  it. 


LETTER    XXV  in 

whether  it  be  expedient  that  it  should  be  shown 
publicly,  or  only  to  a  few  persons,  or  to  some 
particular  person  only,  or  not  at  all  to  any  one. 
And  I  make  you  judge  equally  if  that  little  preface l 
which  you  have  fitted  to  the  same  out  of  fragments 
from  other  letters  of  mine  should  stand  as  it  is,  or 
whether  another  fitter  one  should  be  composed. 

4.  But  I  had  almost  forgotten  that  you  complained 
at  the  beginning  of  your  letter  that  I  had  accused 
you  of  falsehood.  I  do  not  clearly  recollect  whether 
I  ever  said  that ;  but  if  I  said  anything  like  it  (for 
I  should  prefer  to  think  that  I  had  forgotten  rather 
than  that  your  messenger  had  falsely  reported)  do 
not  doubt  that  it  was  spoken  in  joke,  and  not 
seriously.  Can  I  have  even  thought  that  you  had 
used  levity  and  were  capable  of  trifling  with  your 
word  ?  Far  from  me  be  such  a  suspicion  of  you, 
who  have  from  your  youth  been  happy  in  bearing 
the  yoke  of  truth,  and  when  I  find  in  you  a  gravity 
of  character  beyond  your  years.  Nor  am  I  so  simple 
as  to  see  a  falsehood  in  a  word  artlessly  spoken  with 
out  duplicity  of  heart ;  nor  so  indifferent  as  to  have 
forgotten  either  the  project  which  you  have  long 
since  formed  or  the  obstacle  which  hinders  its 
realization. 

1  This  little  preface  is  the  Letter  addressed  to  the  same  William,  and 
counted  the  85th  among  the  Letters  of  S.  Bernard  ;  it  is  placed  at  the 
head  of  the  Apology. 


ii2  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

LETTER  XXVI.  (circa  A.D.   1127) 
To  THE  SAME 

He  excuses  the  brevity  of  his  letter  on  the  ground  that  Lent 
is  a  time  of  silence;  and  also  that  on  account  of  his  pro 
fession  and  his  ignorance  he  does  not  dare  to  assume  the 
function  of  teaching. 

i.  You  will,  perhaps,  be  angry,  or,  to  speak  more 
gently,  will  wonder  that  in  place  of  a  longer  letter 
which  you  had  hoped  for  from  me  you  receive  this 
brief  note.  But  remember  what  says  the  wise  man, 
that  there  is  a  time  for  all  things  under  the  heaven  ; 
both  a  time  to  speak  and  a  time  to  keep  silence 
(Eccles.  iii.  1—7).  But  when  shall  silence  have  its 
time,  if  our  chatter  shall  occupy  even  these  sacred 
days  of  Lent  ?  Correspondence  is  more  absorbing 
than  conversation,  inasmuch  as  it  is  more  laborious  ; 
since  when  in  each  other's  presence  we  may  say 
with  little  labour  what  we  will,  but  when  absent  we 
require  diligently  to  dictate  in  turn  the  words  which 
we  mutually  seek,  or  which  are  sought  from  us. 
But  while  being  absent  from  you  I  meditate,  dictate 
or  write  down  what  you  are  in  time  to  read,  where, 
I  pray  you,  is  the  silence  and  quiet  of  my  retreat  ? * 

1  In  this  Letter  the  Saint  expresses  in  forcible  words  how  little  he  felt 
himself  inclined  to  write  to  his  friends  Letters  without  necessity  or  useful 
ness,  and  to  take  time  and  leisure  for  doing  so  which  belonged  to  more 
important  and  sacred  employments.  Also,  he  felt  that  the  labour  of 
literary  composition  interfered  with  the  silence  to  which  monks  were 
bound,  as  also  with  inward  quiet  and  peace.  Bernard  speaks  of  the 
function  and  calling  of  a  monk  like  himself.  For  the  monk,  as  such,  is 
not  called  to  preach  and  to  teach,  but  to  devote  himself  in  solitude  to  God 


LETTER    XXVI  113 

But  all  these  things,  you  say,  you  can  do  in  silence  ; 
yet,  if  you  think,  you  will  not  answer  thus.  For 
what  a  tumult  there  is  in  the  mind  of  those  who 
dictate,  what  a  crowd  of  sentiments,  variety  of  ex 
pressions,  diversity  of  senses  jostle  ;  how  frequently 
one  rejects  that  word  which  presents  itself  and  seeks 
another  which  still  escapes  ;  what  close  attention 
one  gives  to  the  consecutiveness  of  the  line  of  thought 
and  the  elegance  of  the  expression  !  How  it  can  be 
made  most  plain  to  the  intellect,  how  it  can  be  made 
most  useful  to  the  conscience,  what,  in  short,  shall 
be  put  before  and  what  after  for  a  particular  reader, 
and  many  other  things  do  those  who  are  careful  in 
their  style,  attend  to  most  closely.  And  will  you  say 
that  in  this  I  shall  have  quiet  ;  will  you  call  this 
silence,  even  though  the  tongue  be  still  ? 

2.  Besides,  it  is  not  only  the  time,  but  also  my 
profession  and  my  insufficiency  which  prevent  my 
undertaking  what  you  desire,  or  being  able  to  fulfil 
it.  For  it  is  not  the  profession  of  a  monk,  which  I 
seem  to  be,  or  of  a  sinner,  which  I  am,  to  teach,  but 
to  mourn  for  sin.  An  unlearned  person  (as  I  truly 
confess  myself  to  be)  never  acts  more  unlearnedly 
than  when  he  presumes  to  teach  what  he  knows  not. 

and  to  his  own  salvation,  through  meditation  and  the  practice  of  virtues. 
Wherefore  he  says,  in  ep.  42  :  "  Labour  and  retirement  and  voluntary 
poverty,  these  are  the  signs  of  the  monk  ;  these  render  excellent  the 
monastic  life."  But  if  there  should  be  anywhere  lurking  slothful  monks 
who  are  so  imprudent  and  rash  as  to  abuse  the  authority  of  the  Saint  to 
the  excuse  of  their  own  indolence,  let  such  hear  him  accusing  them  in  plain 
words:  "I  may  seem,  perhaps,  to  say  too  much  in  disparagement  of 
learning,  as  if  I  wished  to  blame  the  learned  and  prohibit  the  study  of 
literature.  By  no  means.  I  do  not  overlook  how  greatly  her  learned  sons 
have  profited  and  do  profit  the  Church,  whether  in  combating  her  enemies 
or  in  instructing  the  simple,"  &c.  (Sermon  36  on  the  Canticles). 

H 


U4  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

Therefore,  to  teach  is  the  business  neither  of  the  un 
learned  in  his  rashness,  nor  of  the  monk  in  his  bold 
ness,  nor  of  the  penitent  in  his  distress.  It  is  for 
this  reason  I  have  fled  from  the  world  and  abide  in 
solitude,  and  propose  to  myself  with  the  prophet,  to 
take  heed  to  my  ways  that  I  offend  not  with  my  tongue 
(Ps.  xxxix.  2)  since,  according  to  the  same  prophet, 
A  man  full  of  words  shall  not  prosper  upon  the  earth 
(Ps.  cxl.  n),  and  to  another  Scripture,  Death  and  life 
are  in  the  power  of  the  tongue  (Prov.  xviii.  21).  But 
silence,  says  Isaiah,  is  the  work  of  righteousness  (Is. 
xxxii.  17),  and  Jeremiah  teaches  us  to  wait  in  silence 
for  the  salvation  of  the  Lord  (Lam.  iii.  26).  Thus  to 
this  pursuit  and  desire  of  righteousness,  since 
righteousness  is  the  mother,  the  nurse,  and  the 
guardian  of  all  virtues,  I  would  not  seem  entirely 
to  deny  what  you  have  asked,  and  I  invite  and  en 
treat  you  and  all  those  who,  like  you,  desire  to  make 
progress  in  virtue,  if  not  by  the  teaching  of  my  words, 
at  least  by  the  example  of  my  silence,  to  learn  from 
me  to  be  silent,  you  who  press  me  in  your  words  to 
teach  what  I  do  not  know. 

3.  But  what  am  I  doing  ?  It  will  be  wonderful 
if  you  do  not  smile,  seeing  with  what  a  flood  of 
words  I  condemn  those  who  are  too  full  of  words, 
and  while  I  desire  to  commend  silence  to  you,  I 
plead  against  silence  by  my  loquacity.  Our  dear 
Guerric,1  concerning  whose  penitence  and  whose 
manner  of  life  you  wished  to  be  assured,  as  far  as  I 
can  judge  from  his  actions,  is  walking  worthy  of  the 
grace  of  God,  and  bringing  forth  works  worthy  of 

1  This  Guerric  was  made  Abbot  of  Igny  in  1138.     He  is  mentioned 
again  in  the  following  Letter, 


LETTER    XXVII  115 

penitence.  The  little  book  which  you  ask  of  me  I 
have  not  beside  me  just  now.  A  certain  friend  of 
ours,  with  the  same  desire  to  read  it  as  you,  has  kept 
it  a  long  time,  but  not  to  frustrate  altogether  the 
desire  of  your  piety,1  I  send  you  another  which  I 
have  just  completed  on  the  Glories  of  the  Virgin 
Mother,  which,  as  I  have  no  other  copy  of  it,  I  beg 
that  you  will  return  to  me  as  soon  as  possible,  or 
bring  it  with  you  if  you  will  be  coming  here  soon. 


LETTER  XXVII  (circa  A.D.   1127) 
To  THE  SAME 

A  sincere  love  has  no  need  of  lengthy  letters,  or  of  many  words. 
Bernard  has  been  in  a  state  of  health  almost  despaired  of, 
but  is  now  recovering. 

i.  I  have  sent  you  a  short  letter  in  reply  to  a 
short  one  from  you.  You  have  given  me  an  example 
of  brevity,  and  I  willingly  follow  it.  And  truly  what 
need  have  true  and  lasting  friendships,  as  you  truly 
say,  of  exchanging  empty  and  fugitive  words  ?  How 
ever  great  be  the  variety  of  quotations  and  verses, 
and  the  multiplicity  of  the  phrases  by  which  you 
have  endeavoured  to  display  or  to  prove  your  friend 
ship  for  me,  1  feel  more  certain  of  your  affection 
than  I  do  that  you  have  succeeded  in  expressing  it, 
and  you  will  not  be  wrong  if  you  think  the  same  in 
respect  to  me.  When  your  letter  came  into  my 
hands  you  were  present  in  my  heart,  and  I  am 

1  Or  benignity. 


n6  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

quite  convinced  that  it  will  be  the  same  for  me 
when  you  receive  my  letter,  and  that  when  you  read 
it  I  shall  not  be  absent.  It  is  a  labour  for  each  of 
us  to  scribble  to  the  other,  and  for  our  messengers 
a  fatigue  to  carry  our  letters  from  the  one  to  the 
other,  but  the  heart  feels  neither  labour  nor  fatigue  in 
loving.  Let  those  things  cease,  then,  which  without 
labour  cannot  be  carried  on,  and  let  us  practise  only 
that  which,  the  more  earnestly  it  is  done,  seems  to 
cost  the  less  labour.  Let  our  minds,  I  say,  rest  from 
dictating,  our  lips  from  conversing,  our  fingers  from 
writing,  our  messengers  from  running  to  and  fro.1 
But  let  not  our  hearts  rest  from  meditating  day  and 
night  on  the  law  of  the  Lord,  which  is  the  law  of 
love.  The  more  we  cease  to  be  occupied  in  doing 
this  the  less  quiet  shall  we  enjoy,  and  the  more 
engrossed  we  are  in  it,  so  much  the  more  calm  and 
repose  we  shall  feel  from  it.  Let  us  love  and  be 
loved,  striving  to  benefit  ourselves  in  the  other,  and 
the  other  in  ourselves.  For  those  whom  we  love,  on 
those  do  we  rely,  as  those  who  love  us  rely  in  turn 
on  us.  Thus  to  love  in  God  is  to  love  charity,  and 
therefore  it  is  to  labour  for  charity,  to  strive  to  be 
loved  for  the  sake  of  God. 

2.  But  what  am  I  doing  ?  I  promised  brevity, 
and  I  am  sliding  into  prolixity.  If  you  desire  news 
of  Brother  Guerric,  or  rather  since  you  do  so,  he  so 
runs  not  as  uncertainly,  so  fights  not  as  one  that 
beateth  the  air.  But  since  he  knows  that  salvation 
depends  not  on  him  who  fights,  nor  on  him  who 

1  This  kind  of  correspondence  is  a  hindrance  to  devotion  and  the  spirit 
of  prayer,  as  he  says  in  the  Letter  placed  at  the  head  of  his  Apology 
addressed  to  Abbot  William,  and  also  in  Letter  89. 


LETTER    XXVIII  117 

runs,  but  on  God,  who  shows  mercy,  he  begs  that 
he  may  have  the  help  of  your  prayers  for  him,  so 
that  He  who  has  already  granted  to  him  both  to  fight 
and  to  run,  may  grant  also  to  overcome  and  to  attain. 
Salute  for  me  with  my  heart  and  by  your  mouth 
your  abbot,  who  is  most  dear  to  me,  not  only  on 
your  account,  but  also  because  of  his  high  character. 
It  will  be  most  agreeable  to  me  to  see  him  at  the 
time  and  place  which  you  have  promised.  I  do  not 
wish  to  leave  you  ignorant  that  the  hand  of  God  has 
for  a  little  while  been  laid  heavily  upon  me.  It 
seemed  that  I  had  been  stricken  to  the  fall,  that  the 
axe  had  been  laid  to  the  root  of  the  barren  tree  of 
my  body,  and  I  feared  that  I  might  be  instantly  cut 
down ;  but  lo  !  by  your  prayers  and  those  of  my 
other  friends,  the  good  Lord  has  spared  me  this 
time  also,  yet  in  the  hope  that  I  shall  bear  good 
fruits  in  the  future. 


LETTER    XXVIII  (circa  A.D.   1130) 
To   THE   ABBOTS    ASSEMBLED    AT    SOISSONS  1 

Bernard  urges  the  abbots  zealously  to  perform  the  duty  for  which 
they  had  met.  He  recommends  to  them  a  great  desire  of 
spiritual  progress,  and  begs  them  not  to  be  delayed  in  their 
work  if  lukewarm  and  lax  persons  should  perhaps  murmur. 

To  the  Reverend  Abbots  met  in  the  name  of  the 
Lord    in    Chapter    at    Soissons,    brother    BERNARD, 

1  This  was  one  of  the  first  general  Chapters  held  by  the  Black  Monks 
(as  they  are  called)  in  the  province  of  Rheims.  It  seems  that  its  cause 
and  occasion  was  the  Apology  addressed  by  Bernard  to  Abbot  William, 


n8  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

Abbot  of  Clairvaux,  the  servant  of  their  Holiness, 
health  and  prayer  that  they  may  see,  establish,  and 
observe  the  things  which  are  right. 

1.  I   greatly  regret   that  my  occupations   prevent 
me  from   being  present  at  your  meeting — at  least, 
in  body.     For  neither  distance  nor  a  crowd  of  cares 
are  able  to  banish  my  spirit,  which  prays  for  you, 
feels  with  you,  and  rests  among  you.     No,  I  repeat, 
I  cannot  be  wanting  in  the  assembly  of  the  saints, 
nor    can    distance    of    place    nor    absence    of    body 
altogether  separate   me  from    the  congregation    and 
the    counsels    of    the   righteous,    in    which,    not   the 
traditions  of   men  are  obstinately  upheld  or  super- 
stitiously  observed  ;  but  diligent  and  humble  inquiry 
is  made  what  is  the  good  and  acceptable  and  perfect 
will  of  God  (Rom.  xii.  2).     All  my  desires  carry  me 
where   you   are ;    I    am   with   you   by   devotion,   by 
friendship,  by  similarity  of  sentiment,  and  partaking 
of  your  zeal. 

2.  That   those   who    now   applaud   you   may   not 
hereafter   ridicule   you   as    having    assembled   to   no 
purpose  (which  God  forbid  !),  strive,  I  beseech  you, 
to    make   your   conduct   holy   and   your   resolutions 
good,  for  too  good  they  cannot  be.     Grant  that  you 

who  was  the  prime  mover  in  calling  together  this  assembly,  after  the 
example  of  the  Cluniacs  and  Cistercians,  that  they  might  re-establish  the 
observance  of  the  Rule  which  was  being  let  slip.  It  was  held  without 
doubt  at  S.  Medard  under  the  Abbot  Geoffrey,  to  whom  Letter  66  was 
addressed.  He  was  Bishop  of  Chalons-sur-Marne  when  Peter  the  Vener 
able  spoke  of  him  thus  (B.  ii.  Ep.  43):  "It  is  he  who  first  spread  the 
divine  Order  of  Cluny  through  the  whole  of  France,  who  was  its  author 
and  propagator  ;  and,  far  more,  it  was  he  who  expelled  'the  old  dragon' 
from  his  resting-places  in  so  many  monasteries,  and  who  roused  monks 
from  their  torpor."  Innocent  II.  determined  that  these  general  Chapters 
should  be  held  every  year  in  future. 


LETTER    XXVIII  119 

may  be  too  just  or  even  too  wise,  yet  it  is  plain  that 
you  cannot  be  good  beyond  measure.  And  indeed 
I  read:  Do  not  carry  justice  to  excess  (Eccles.  vii.  17, 
VULG.).  I  read  :  Be  not  wiser  than  is  befitting  (Rom. 
xii.  3,  VULG.).  But  is  it  ever  said  :  Do  not  carry 
goodness  to  excess  ?  or,  Take  care  not  to  be  too 
good  ?  No  one  can  be  more  good  than  it  behoves 
him  to  be.  Paul  was  a  good  man,  and  yet  he  was 
not  at  all  content  with  his  state  ;  he  reached  forward 
gladly  to  the  things  that  were  before,  forgetting  those 
that  were  behind  (Phil.  iii.  13),  and  striving  to  become 
continually  better  than  himself.  It  is  only  God  who 
does  not  desire  to  become  better  than  He  is,  because 
that  is  not  possible. 

3.  Let  those  depart  both  from  me  and  from  you 
who  say  :  We  do  not  desire  to  be  better  than  our 
fathers ;  declaring  themselves  to  be  the  sons  of  luke 
warm  and  lax  persons,  whose  memory  is  in  execra 
tion,  since  they  have  eaten  sour  grapes,  and  their 
children's  teeth  are  set  on  edge.  Or  if  they  pretend 
that  their  fathers  were  holy  men,  whose  memory 
is  blessed,  let  them  imitate  their  sanctity,  and  not 
defend,  as  laws  instituted  by  them,  the  indulgences 
and  dispensations  which  they  have  merely  endured. 
Although  holy  Elias  says,  /  am  not  better  than  my  fathers 
(i  Kings  xix.  4),  yet  he  has  not  said  that  he  did  not 
wish  to  be.  Jacob  saw  upon  the  ladder  Angels 
ascending  and  descending  (Gen.  xxviii.  12) ;  but  was 
any  one  of  them  either  sitting,  or  standing  still  ?  It 
was  not  for  angels  to  stand  still  on  the  uncertain 
rounds  of  a  frail  ladder  ;  nor  can  anything  remain 
fixed  in  the  same  condition  during  the  uncertain 
period  of  this  mortal  life.  Here  have  we  no  con- 


120  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

tinuing  city  ;  nor  do  we  yet  possess,  but  always  seek 
for,  that  which  is  to  came.  Of  necessity  you  either 
ascend  or  descend,  and  if  you  try  to  stand  still  you 
cannot  but  fall.  It  may  be  held  as  certain  that  the 
man  is  not  good  at  all  who  does  not  wish  to  be 
better  ;  and  where  you  begin  not  to  care  to  make 
advance  in  goodness  there  also  you  leave  off  being 
good. 

4.  Let  those  depart  both  from  me  and  from  you 
who  call  good  evil  and  evil  good.  If  they  call  the 
pursuit  of  righteousness  evil,  what  good  thing  will  be 
good  in  their  eyes  ?  The  Lord  once  spoke  a  single 
word,  and  the  Pharisees  were  scandalized  (S.  Matt. 
xv.  12).  But  now  these  new  Pharisees  are  scanda 
lized  not  even  at  a  word,  but  at  silence.  You  plainly 
see  then  that  they  seek  only  the  occasion  to  attack 
you.  But  leave  them  alone  ;  they  be  blind  leaders 
of  the  blind.  Take  thought  for  the  salvation  of  the 
little  ones,  not  of  the  murmurs  of  the  evil-disposed. 
Why  do  you  so  much  fear  to  give  scandal  to  those 
who  are  not  to  be  cured  unless  you  become  sick 
with  them  ?  It  is  not  even  desirable  to  wait  to  see 
whether  your  resolutions  are  pleasing  to  all  of  you 
in  all  respects,  otherwise  you  will  determine  upon 
little  or  no  good.  You  ought  to  consult  not  the 
views,  but  the  needs  of  all  ;  and  faithfully  to  draw 
them  towards  God,  even  although  they  be  unwilling, 
rather  than  abandon  them  to  the  desires  of  their 
heart.  I  commend  myself  to  your  holy  prayers. 


LETTER    XXIX  121 

LETTER  XXIX  (A.D.  1132) 
To    HENRY,    KING    OF    ENGLAND 

He  asks  the  King's  favour  to  the  monks  sent  by  him  to 
construct  a  monastery. 

To  the  illustrious  HENRY,  King  of  England,  BER 
NARD,  Abbot  of  Clairvaux,  that  he  may  faithfully 
serve  and  humbly  obey  the  King  of  Heaven  in  his 
earthly  kingdom. 

There  is  in  your  land  a  property1  belonging 
to  your  Lord  and  mine,  for  which  He  preferred 
to  die  rather  than  it  should  be  lost.  This  I  have 
formed  a  plan  for  recovering,  and  am  sending  a 
party  of  my  brave  followers  to  seek,  recover,  and 
hold  it  with  strong  hand,  if  this  does  not  displease 

1  The  history  of  the  Abbey  of  Wells,  in  England,  explains  to  us  what 
is  meant  by  these  words  of  Bernard.  "The  Abbot  of  Clairvaux,  Bernard, 
had  sent  detachments  of  his  army  of  invasion  to  take  possession  of  the 
most  distant  regions  ;  they  won  brilliant  triumphs  over  the  ancient  enemy 
of  salvation,  bearing  from  him  his  prey  and  restoring  it  to  its  true  Sovereign. 
God  had  inspired  him  with  the  thought  of  sending  some  hopeful  slips  from 
his  noble  vine  of  Clairvaux  into  the  English  land  that  he  might  have  fruit 
among  that  nation,  as  in  the  rest  of  the  world.  The  very  letter  is  yet 
extant  which  he  wrote  for  these  Religious  to  the  King,  in  which  he  said 
that  there  was  a  property  of  the  Lord  in  that  land  of  the  King,  and  that 
he  had  sent  brave  men  out  of  his  army  to  seek  it,  seize  it,  and  bring  it 
back  to  its  owner.  He  persuades  the  King  to  render  assistance  to  his 
messengers,  and  not  to  fail  to  fulfil  in  this  his  duty  to  his  suzerain  ;  which 
was  done.  The  Religious  from  Clairvaux  were  received  with  honour  by 
the  King  and  by  the  realm,  and  they  laid  new  foundations  in  the  province 
of  York,  founding  the  Abbey  of  Rievaulx.  And  this  was  the  first  planting 
of  the  Cistercian  Order  in  the  province  of  York."  (Afonast.  Anglican, 
Vol.  i.  p.  733-)  Further  mention  of  Henry  I.  is  made  in  the  notes  to 
Letter  138. 


122  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

you.  And  these  scouts  whom  you  see  before  you 
I  have  sent  beforehand  on  this  business  to  investi 
gate  wisely  the  state l  of  things,  and  bring  me  faith 
ful  word  again.  Be  so  kind  as  to  assist  them  as 
messengers  of  your  Lord,  and  in  their  persons  fulfil 
your  feudal 2  duty  to  Him.  I  pray  Him  to  render 
you,  in  return,  happy  and  illustrious,  to  His  honour, 
and  to  the  salvation  of  your  soul,  to  the  safety  and 
peace  of  your  country,  and  to  continue  to  you  happi 
ness  and  contentment  to  the  end  of  your  days. 


LETTER  XXX  (circa  A.D.  1132) 
To    HENRY,3  BISHOP   OF   WINCHESTER 

Bernard  salutes  him  very  respectfully. 

To  the  very  illustrious  Lord  HENRY,  by  the  Grace 
of  God  Bishop  of  Winchester,  BERNARD,  Abbot  of 
Clairvaux,  health  in  our  Lord. 

1  Esse.     The  word  is  a  common  one  with  Bernard  to  signify  the  state 
of  a  man  or  a  business.     See  Letters  118,  304. 

2  Since  kings  and  princes  are,  as  it  were,  vassals  to  God. 

3  He  was  nephew,  by  his  mother,  of  Henry  I.,  King  of  England,  brother 
of  King  Stephen,  and  son  of  Stephen,  Count  of  Blois.     "  His  mother, 
Adela,"  says  William  of  Newburgh,  "not  wishing  to  appear  to  have  borne 
children  only  for  the  world,  had  him  tonsured."     In  1126,  The  History  of 
(he  Abbey  of  Glastonbury  counts  him  among  the  number  of  the  abbots  of 
that  monastery,  and  says,  "he  was  a  man  extremely  versed  in  letters,  and 
of  remarkable  regularity  of  character.     By  his  excellent  administration  the 
Abbey  of  Glastonbury  profited  so  much  that  his  name  will  be  held  in  ever 
lasting  memory  there"  (Monast.  Anglican.  Vol.  ii.   p.  18).     Henry  was 
elevated  later  on  to  the  see  of  Winchester,  and  Bernard  complains  of  him 
in  writing  to   Pope  Eugenius.     "What  shall  I  say  of  his  Lordship  of 
Winchester?    The  works  which  he  does  show  sufficiently  what  he  is," 


LETTER    XXX  123 

It  is  with  great  joy  that  I  have  learned  from  the 
report  of  many  persons  that  so  humble  a  person 
as  myself  has  found  favour  with  your  Highness.  I 
am  not  worthy  of  it,  but  I  am  not  ungrateful  for  it. 
I  return  you,  therefore,  thanks  for  your  goodness  ;  a 
very  unworthy  return,  but  all  that  I  am  able  to  make. 
I  do  not  fear  but  that  you  will  receive  the  humble 
return  that  I  make,  since  you  have  been  so  kind  as 
to  forestall  me  by  your  affection  and  the  honour 
that  you  have  done  to  me  ;  but  I  defer  writing  more 
until  I  shall  know  by  some  token  from  your  hand, 

Harpsfield  reports  that  he  extorted  castles  from  nobles  whom  he  had  invited 
to  a  feast,  and  Roger  that  he  had  consecrated  the  intruder  William  to  the 
See  of  York  (Annal.  under  year  1140).  The  latter  calls  him  legate  of  the 
Roman  See.  Brito  and  Henriquez  must,  therefore,  be  wrong  in  counting 
him  among  the  Cistercians,  and  the  latter  in  particular,  in  speaking  of  him 
as  a  man  of  eminent  sanctity,  taking  occasion  from  the  testimony  of  Wion 
(Ligno  vita),  who  calls  him  a  man  gifted  with  prophecy,  because  when  on 
his  death-bed,  in  receiving  the  visit  of  his  nephew,  Henry,  he  predicted 
to  him  that  he  would  be  punished  by  God  on  account  of  the  death  of 
S.  Thomas  of  Canterbury,  whom  he  had  himself  consecrated ;  as  if  that 
saying  may  not  have  been  inspired  by  fear  rather  than  prophecy,  as 
Manrique  rightly  says  in  his  Annals.  Peter  the  Venerable  wrote  many 
letters  to  him,  which  are  still  extant,  among  others  Letters  24  and  25  in 
Book  iv.,  in  which  he  requests  that  he  may  return  to  Cluny  to  die  and  be 
buried  there.  Being  invited  to  do  so  at  the  request  of  Louis,  the  King  of 
France,  and  of  the  chief  nobles  of  Burgundy,  and  also  at  the  letters  of 
Pope  Hadrian  IV.,  he  sent  on  his  treasures  to  Peter  the  Venerable,  and, 
leaving  England  without  the  permission  of  the  King,  arrived  at  Cluny  in 
1155.  He  discharged  from  his  own  means  the  debts  of  the  abbey,  which 
were  then  enormous  ;  he  expended  for  the  support  of  the  monks  who  lived 
at  Cluny,  more  than  four  hundred  in  number,  7,000  marks  of  silver,  which 
are  equal  to  40,000  livres.  He  gave  forty  chalices  for  celebrating  mass, 
and  a  silk  pannus  (which  may  have  been  an  altar  vestment,  or  more  pro 
bably  a  hanging— [E.])  of  great  price  ;  he  buried  with  his  own  hands  Peter 
the  Venerable,  who  died  January  ist,  1157.  Having  returned  at  length 
to  his  see,  he  died,  to  the  great  grief  of  the  Religious  of  Cluny,  on  August 
the  9th,  1171. 


124  s-    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

if  you  think  fit  to  send  one,  how  you  receive  these 
few  words.  You  may  easily  confide  your  reply,  in 
writing,  or  by  word  of  mouth  if  it  shall  so  please 
you,  to  Abbot  Oger,  who  is  charged  to  convey  to 
you  this  note.  I  beg  your  Excellency  also  to  be  so 
good  as  to  honour  that  Religious  with  your  esteem  and 
confidence,  inasmuch  as  he  is  a  man  commendable 
for  his  honour,  knowledge,  and  piety. 


LETTER  XXXI  (A.D.   1132) 
To  THE  ABBOT  OF  A  CERTAIN  MONASTERY  AT  YORK, 

FROM      WHICH      THE      PRIOR      HAD      DEPARTED, 
TAKING    SEVERAL    RELIGIOUS    WITH    HIM.1 

i.  You  write  to  me  from  beyond  the  sea  to  ask  of 
me  advice  which   I   should  have  preferred  that  you 

1  Letter  318  clearly  shows  what  monastery  these  had  left,  namely,  the 
Benedictine  Abbey  of  S.  Mary,  at  York,  and  this  the  Monasticon  Anglica- 
num  confirms. 

The  Abbey  of  S.  Mary,  at  York,  was  founded  in  1088  by  Count  Alan, 
son  of  Guy,  Count  of  Brittany,  in  the  Church  of  S.  Olave,  near  York,  to 
which  King  William  Rufus  afterwards  gave  the  name  of  S.  Mary.  Hither 
were  brought  from  the  monastery  of  Whitby  the  Abbot  Stephen  and 
Benedictine  monks,  under  whom  monastic  discipline  was  observed ;  but 
about  the  year  1132,  under  Geoffrey,  the  third  abbot,  it  began  to  be 
relaxed.  It  was  at  that  time  that  the  Cistercian  order  was  everywhere 
renowned,  and  was  introduced  into  England  in  the  year  1128  (its  first 
establishment  being  at  Waverley,  in  Surrey).  Induced  by  a  pious  emula 
tion,  twelve  monks  of  S.  Mary,  who  were  not  able  to  obtain  from  their 
abbot  permission  to  transfer  themselves  to  this  Cistercian  Order,  begged 
the  support  of  Thurstan,  Archbishop  of  York,  to  put  their  project  into 
execution.  With  his  support  they  left  their  monastery  on  October  4th, 
1132,  notwithstanding  the  opposition  of  their  abbot,  to  the  number  of 
twelve  priests  and  one  levite  (deacon).  Of  these  one  was  the  Prior  Richard, 


LETTER    XXXI  125 

had  sought  from  some  other.  I  am  held  between 
two  difficulties,  for  if  I  do  not  reply  to  you,  you  may 
take  my  silence  for  a  sign  of  contempt  ;  but  if  I  do 
reply  I  cannot  avoid  danger,  since  whatever  I  reply 
I  must  of  necessity  either  give  scandal  to  some  one 
or  give  to  some  other  a  security  which  they  ought 
not  to  have,  or  at  all  events  more  than  they  ought  to 
have.  That  your  brethren  have  departed  from  you 
was  not  with  the  knowledge  nor  by  the  advice  or 
persuasion  of  me  or  of  my  brethren.  But  I  incline 
to  believe  that  it  was  of  God,  since  their  purpose 
could  not  be  shaken  by  all  your  efforts  ;  and  that 
the  brethren  themselves  thought  this  also  who  so 
earnestly  sought  my  advice  about  themselves ;  their 
conscience  troubling  them,  as  I  suppose,  because 
they  quitted  you.  Otherwise,  if  their  conscience, 

another  Richard  the  sacristan,  and  others  named  in  the  Histoiy  before 
mentioned,  taking  nothing  from  the  monastery  but  their  habit.  Troubled 
by  their  desertion,  Abbot  Geoffrey  complained  to  the  king,  to  the  bishops 
and  abbots  of  the  neighbourhood,  as  well  as  to  S.  Bernard  himself,  of  the 
injury  done  by  this  to  the  rights  of  all  religious  houses,  without  distinction. 
Archbishop  Thurstan  wrote  a  letter  of  apology  to  William,  Archbishop  of 
Canterbury,  and  at  the  same  time  Bernard  himself  wrote  to  Thurstan  and 
to  the  thirteen  Religious  to  congratulate  them,  and  another  to  Abbot 
Geoffrey  to  justify  their  action  (Letters  94  to  96  and  313).  In  the  mean 
time  these  monks  were  shut  up  in  the  Episcopal  house  of  Thurstan  ;  and 
as  they  refused,  notwithstanding  the  censures  of  their  abbot,  to  return  to 
their  former  monastery,  Thurstan  gave  them  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
Ripon  a  spot  of  ground  previously  uncultivated,  covered  with  thorn  bushes, 
and  situated  among  rocks  and  mountains  which  surrounded  it  on  all  sides, 
that  they  might  build  themselves'a  house  there.  Their  Prior  Richard  was 
given  to  them  for  abbot  by  Thurstan,  who  gave  him  the  Benediction  on 
Christmas  Day.  Having  passed  a  whole  winter  in  incredible  austerity  of 
life,  they  gave  themselves  and  their  dwelling-place,  which  they  had  called 
Fountains,  to  S.  Bernard.  He  sent  to  them  a  Religious,  named  Geoffrey, 
of  Amayo,  from  whose  hands  they  received  the  Cistercian  Rule  with 
incredible  willingness  and  piety  {Life  of  S.  Bernard,  B.  iv.  c.  2). 


126  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

like  that  of  the  Apostle,  did  not  reproach  them,  their 
peace  would  not  have  been  disturbed  (Rom.  xiv.  22). 
But  what  can  I  do  [that  I  may  be  hurtful  to  no  one 
neither  by  my  silence  nor  by  my  reply  to  the  ques 
tions  asked  me  ?  Thus,  perhaps,  I  may  relieve  my 
self  of  the  difficulty  if  I  shall  send  those  who  question 
me  to  a  person  more  learned,  and  whose  authority 
is  more  reverend  and  sacred  than  mine.  Pope  S. 
Gregory  says  in  his  book  on  the  Pastoral  Rule, 
"  Whosoever  has  proposed  to  himself  a  greater  good 
does  an  unlawful  thing  in  subordinating  it  to  a  lesser 
good."  And  he  proves  this  by  a  citation  from  the 
Gospel,  saying,  No  one  putting  his  hand  to  the  plough  and 
looking  back  is  fit  for  the  kingdom  of  God  (S.  Luke  ix.  62); 
and  he  proceeds  :  "  He  who  renounces  a  more  per 
fect  state  which  he  has  embraced,  to  follow  another 
which  is  less  so,  is  precisely  the  man  who  looks 
back"  (Part  iii.  c.  28).  The  same  Pope  in  his  third 
Homily  on  Ezekiel,  adds  :  "There  are  people  who 
taste  virtue,  set  themselves  to  practise  it,  and  while 
doing  so  contemplate  undertaking  actions  still  better  ; 
but  afterwards  drawing  back,  abandon  those  better 
things  which  they  had  proposed  to  themselves. 
They  do  not,  it  is  true,  leave  off  the  good  practices 
they  had  begun,  but  they  fail  to  realize  those  better 
ones  which  they  had  meditated.  To  human  judg 
ment  these  seem  to  stand  fast  in  the  good  work, 
but  to  the  eyes  of  Almighty  God  they  have  fallen, 
and  failed  in  what  they  contemplated." 

2.  Here  is  a  mirror.  In  it  let  your  Religious 
consider,  not  the  features  of  their  faces,  but  the 
fact  of  their  turning  back.  Here  let  them  deter 
mine  and  distinguish  their  motives,  their  thoughts, 


LETTER    XXXI  127 

accusing  or  excusing  them  with  that  sentence  which 
the  spiritual  man  passes  who  judges  all  things,  and 
is  himself  judged  by  no  one.  I,  indeed,  cannot 
rashly  determine  whether  the  state  which  they  have 
left  or  that  which  they  have  embraced  was  the 
greater  or  less,  the  higher  or  lower,  the  severer 
or  the  more  lax.  Let  them  judge  according  to  the 
rule  of  S.  Gregory.  But  to  you,  Reverend  Father, 
I  declare,  with  as  much  positive  assurance  as  plain 
truth,  that  it  is  not  at  all  desirable  that  you  should 
set  yourself  to  quench  the  Spirit.  Hinder  not  htm,  it 
is  said,  who  is  able  to  do  good,  but  if  thou  canst,  do  good 
also  thyself (Prov.  iii.  27,  VULG.).  It  more  befits  you  to 
be  proud  of  the  good  works  of  your  sons,  since  a 
wise  son  is  the  glory  of  his  father  (Prov.  x.  i).  For 
the  rest,  let  no  one  make  it  a  cause  of  complaint 
against  me  that  I  have  not  hidden  in  my  heart  the 
righteousness  of  God,  unless,  perhaps,  I  have  spoken 
less  of  it  than  I  ought,  for  the  sake  of  avoiding 
scandal. 


LETTER  XXXII  (A.D.   1132) 
To  THURSTAN,  ARCHBISHOP  OF  YORK 

Bernard  praises  his  charity  and  beneficence  towards  the 
Religious. 

To  the  very  dear  father  and  Reverend  Lord 
THURSTAN,  by  the  Grace  of  God  Archbishop  of 
York,  BERNARD,  Abbot  of  Clairvaux,  wishes  the 
fullest  health. 

The  general  good  report  of  men,  as   I   have  ex- 


128  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

perienced,  has  said  nothing  in  your  favour  which  the 
splendour  of  your  good  works  does  not  justify. 
Your  actions,  in  fact,  show  that  your  high  reputa 
tion,  which  fame  had  previously  spread  everywhere, 
was  neither  false  nor  ill-founded,  but  manifest  and 
certain.  Especially  of  late  how  brilliantly  has  your 
zeal  for  righteousness  and  your  sacerdotal  energy 
shone  forth  in  the  defence  of  the  poor  Religious 
who  had  no  other  helper.1  Once,  indeed,  the  whole 
assembly  of  the  saints  used  to  venerate  your  works 
of  mercy  and  alms  deeds  ;  but  in  doing  so  it  nar 
rated  always  what  is  common  to  you  with  very 
many,  since  whosoever  possesses  the  goods  of  this 
world  is  bound  to  share  them  with  the  poor.  But 
this  is  your  episcopal  task,  this  the  noble  proof  of 
your  paternal  affection,  this  your  truly  divine  fer 
vour,  the  zeal  which  no  doubt  has  inspired  and 
aroused  in  you  who  makes  His  angels  spirits  and 
His  ministers  a  flaming  fire.  This,  I  say,  belongs 
entirely  to  you.  It  is  the  ornament  of  your  dignity, 
the  badge  of  your  office,  the  adornment  of  your 
crown.  It  is  one  thing  to  fill  the  belly  of  the  hungry, 
and  quite  another  thing  to  have  a  zeal  for  holy 
poverty.  The  one  serves  nature,  the  other  grace. 
Thou  shall  visit  thy  kind,  He  says,  and  thou  shall  not 
sin  (Job  v.  24,  VULG.).  Therefore  he  who  nourishes 
the  flesh  of  another  sins  not  in  so  doing,  but  he  who 
honours  the  sanctity  of  another  does  good  to  his  own 
soul  ;  therefore  he  says  again,  Keep  your  alms  in 
your  own  hand  until  you  shall  find  a  righteous  man  to 

1  What  Thurstan  did  for  the  protection  of  these  monks,  who  had  taken 
refuge  with  him  in  the  desire  to  embrace  a  more  austere  life,  may  be  seen 
in  a  Letter  from  him  which  we  have  taken  from  the  Monasticon  Angli- 
canuin  and  placed  after  those  of  S  Bernard. 


LETTER    XXXIII  129 

whom  to  give  it.  For  what  advantage  ?  Because 
He  who  receives  a  righteous  man  in  the  name  of  a  righteous 
man  shall  receive  a  righteous  man's  reward  (S.  Matt. 
x.  41).  Let  us,  then,  discharge  the  debt  that  nature 
requires  of  us,  that  we  may  avoid  sin  ;  but  let  us  be 
co-workers  with  grace,  that  we  may  merit  to  become 
sharers  of  it.  It  is  this  that  I  so  admire  in  you,  as 
I  acknowledge  that  it  was  given  to  you  from  above. 
O,  Father,  truly  reverend  and  to  be  regarded  with 
the  sincerest  affection  ;  the  praise  for  what  you  have 
laid  out  of  your  temporal  means  to  the  relief  of 
our  necessities,  will  be  blended  with  the  praises  of 
God  for  ever. 


LETTER  XXXIII  (A.D.   1132) 

To  RICHARD/  ABBOT  OF  FOUNTAINS,2  AND  HIS 
COMPANIONS,  WHO  HAD  PASSED,  OVER  TO  THE 
CISTERCIAN  ORDER  FROM  ANOTHER. 

He  praises  them  for  the  renewal  of  holy  discipline. 

How  marvellous  are   those    things  which    I   have 
heard    and    learned,    and    which    the    two    Geoffries 

1  He  had  been  Prior  of  the  monastery  of  S.  Mary,  at  York,  which  he 
quitted,  followed  by  twelve  other  Religious,  as  we  have  seen  above.     He 
died  at  Rome,  as  may  be  seen  in  Mon.  Anglic,  p.  744.     He  had  for  suc 
cessor  another  Richard,  formerly  sacristan  of  the  same  monastery  of  S. 
Mary,  who  died  at  Clairvaux  (ibid.,   p.  745).     He  is  mentioned  in  the 
32Oth  letter  of  S.  Bernard. 

2  The  monastery  of  Fountains,  in  the  Diocese  of  York,  passed  over  to 
the  Cistercian  Rule  in  1132.     It  is  astonishing  to  read  of  the  fervour  of 
these  monks  in  Monust.  Anglican.  Vol.   i.  p.  733  and  onwards.     Com 
pare  also  Letters  313  and  320  for  what  relates  to  the  death  of  Abbot 
Richard,  the  second  of  that  name  and  Order. 

I 


130  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

have  announced  to  me,  that  you  have  become  newly 
fervent  with  the  fire  from  on  high,  that  from  weak 
ness  you  have  become  strong,  that  you  have  flourished 
again  with  new  sanctity. 

This  is  the  finger  of  God  secretly  working,  softly 
renewing,  healthfully  changing  not,  indeed,  bad  men 
into  good,  but  making  good  men  better.  Who  will 
grant  unto  me  to  cross  over  to  you  and  see  this 
great  sight  ?  For  that  progress  in  holiness  is  not 
less  wonderful  or  less  delightful  than  that  conversion. 
It  is  much  more  easy,  in  fact,  to  find  many  men 
of  the  world  converted  to  good  than  one  Religious 
who  is  good  becoming  better  than  he  is.  The  rarest 
bird  in  the  world  is  the  monk  who  ascends  ever 
so  little  from  the  point  which  he  has  once  reached 
in  the  religious  life.  Thus  the  spectacle  which  you 
present,  dearest  brethren,  is  the  more  rare  and  salu 
tary,  not  only  to  men  who  desire  greatly  to  be  the 
helper  of  your  sanctity,  but  it  rightly  rejoices  the 
whole  Church  of  God  as  well ;  since  the  rarer  it  is 
the  more  glorious  it  is  also.  For  prudence  made 
it  a  duty  to  you  to  pass  beyond  that  mediocrity  so 
dangerously  near  to  defect,  and  to  escape  from  that 
lukewarmness  which  provokes  God  to  reject  you ; 
it  was  even  a  duty  of  conscience  for  you  to  do  so, 
since  you  know  that  it  is  not  safe  for  men  who  have 
embraced  the  holy  Rule  to  halt  before  having 
attained  the  goal  to  which  it  leads.  I  am  exceed 
ingly  grieved  that  I  am  obliged  by  the  pressing 
obligations  of  the  day  and  the  haste  of  the  messen 
ger  to  express  the  fulness  of  my  affection  with  a  pen 
so  brief,  and  to  comprise  the  breadth  of  my  kindness 


LETTER    XXXIV  131 

for  you  within  the  narrow  limits  of  this  billet.  But 
if  anything  is  wanting,  brother  Geoffrey  l  will  supply 
it  by  word  of  mouth. 


LETTER  XXXIV  (circa   *.D.    1130) 

HlLDEBERT,  ARCHBISHOP  OF   TOURS,  TO   THE  ABBOT 
BERNARD.2 

The  reputation  of  Bernard  for  sanctity  induces  Hildebert  to 
write  to  him  and  ask  for  his  friendship. 

i.  Few,  I  believe,  are  ignorant  that  balsam  is 
known  by  its  scent,  and  the  tree  by  its  fruit.  So, 
dearly  beloved  brother,  there  has  reached  even  to 
me  the  report  of  you — how  you  are  steadfast  in 
holiness,  and  sound  in  doctrine.  For  though  I  am 

1  This  Geoffrey,  "a  holy  and  religious  man,"  who  founded  or  reformed 
numerous  monasteries,   had  been  sent  by  Bernard  to  Fountains  to  train 
them  according  to  the  Rule  of  the  Cistercian  Order  (Monast.  Anglican. 
Vol.  i.  p.  741).    Concerning  the  same  Geoffrey  see  The  Life  of  S.  Bernard, 
B.  iv.  c.  2. 

2  In  not  a  few  MSS.  this  Letter,  with  the  answer  following,  is  placed 
after  Letter   127,  and  in  some  even  after    Letter  252.      Hildebert,    the 
author  of  this  Letter,  ruled  the  Church  of  Mans  (1098-1125),  whence,  on 
the  death  of  Gilbert,  he  was  translated  to  the  Metropolitan  See  of  Tours. 
This  is  clear,  first  from  Ordericus  Vitalis,  Bk.  x.,  sub  ann.,  1098,  and  next 
from  the  Acts  of  the  Bishops  of  Mans,  published   in  the  third  volume  of 
Atialecta,  where  Guido,  his  successor  in  the  See  of  Mans,  is  said  to  have 
been  consecrated,  after  long  strife,    in    1126.     Hildebert   only   ruled  in 
Tours  six  years  and  as  many  months.     So  say  the  Acts  just  mentioned. 
With  them  agrees  a  dissertation  by  Duchesne,  and  John  Maan's  History 
of  the  Metropolitan  See  of  Tours,  and  so  also  Ordericus  Vitalis  on  the 
year  1125  (p.  882),  where  he  assigns  to  Hildebert  an  Archiepiscopate  of 
about  seven   years.     Hildebert,  then,  did   not  reach  the  year   1136,  as 


i32  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

far  separated  from  you  by  distance  of  place,  yet  the 
report  has  come  even  to  me.  What  pleasant  nights 
you  spend  with  your  Rachel  ;  how  abundant  an 
offspring  is  born  to  you  of  Leah  ;  how  you  show 
yourself  wholly  a  follower  of  virtue,  and  an  enemy 
of  the  flesh.  Whoever  speaks  to  me  of  you  has 
this  one  tale  to  tell.  Such  is  the  perfume  of  your 
name,  like  that  of  balm,  poured  out  ;  such  are 
already  the  rewards  of  your  merit.  These  are  the 
ears  that  you  are  gathering  from  your  field  before 
the  last  great  harvest.  For  in  this  life  some  reward 
of  virtue  is  to  be  found  in  the  notable  and  undying 
tribute  paid  to  it.  This  it  wins  unaided,  and  keeps 
unaided.  Its  renown  is  not  diminished  by  envy,  nor 
increased  by  the  favour  of  men.  As  the  esteem  of 
good  men  cannot  be  taken  away  by  false  accusations, 
so  it  cannot  be  won  by  the  attentions  of  flattery. 
It  rests  with  the  individual  himself  either  to  advance 
that  esteem  by  fruitfulness  in  virtue,  or  to  detract 
from  it  by  deficiency.  The  whole  Church,  I  am 
quite  sure,  hopes  that  your  renown  will  be  for  ever 
sustained,  since  it  is  believed  to  be  founded  upon  a 
strong  rock. 

2.  As  for  me,  having  heard  this  report  of  you 
everywhere,  with  desire  I  have  desired  to  be  received 
into  the  inmost  shrine  of  your  friendship,  and  to  be 

Gallia  Christiana  says,  but  died  in  1132,  in  which  year  John  Maan  places 
his  death.  Horst,  in  the  note  to  this  Letter,  refers  to  another  Letter 
of  Hildebert  (the  24th),  which  he  thinks  was  also  written  to  Bernard. 
But  this  Letter,  which  in  all  the  editions  appears  without  the  name  of  the 
person  to  whom  it  was  addressed,  is  entitled  in  two  MSS.  "To  H.,  Abbot 
of  Cluny,"  which  we  have  followed.  From  this  Letter  we  understand 
that  Hildebert  had  it  in  mind  to  retire  to  Cluny,  if  the  Supreme  Pontiff 
would  allow  him.  Peter  of  Blois  praises  his  Letters.  (Ep.  101.) 


LETTER    XXXV  133 

held  in  remembrance  in  your  prayers  when  stealing 
yourself  from  converse  with  mortals  you  speak  on 
behalf  of  mortals  to  the  King  of  Angels.  Now,  this 
my  desire  was  much  increased  by  Gebuin,  Arch 
deacon  of  Troyes,  a  man  eminent  as  well  for  his 
piety  as  for  his  learning.  I  should  have  thought 
it  my  duty  to  commend  him  to  you,  if  I  were  not 
sure  that  those  whom  you  deem  worthy  of  your 
favour  need  no  further  commendation.  I  wish, 
however,  that  you  should  know  that  it  was  through 
his  information  I  learnt  that  you  are  in  the  Church, 
one  who  art  fit  to  be  a  teacher  of  virtue,  both  by 
precept  and  example.  But  not  to  burden  you  with 
too  long  a  letter,  I  bring  my  writing  to  an  end, 
though  end  the  above  petition  I  will  not  until  I 
have  the  happiness  to  obtain  what  I  have  asked.  I 
beg  you  to  tell  me  by  a  letter  in  reply  how  you  are 
disposed  with  regard  to  it. 


LETTER  XXXV  (circa  A.D.  1130) 

REPLY  OF  THE  ABBOT  BERNARD  TO  HILDEBERT, 
ARCHBISHOP  OF  TOURS. 

He  repays  his  praises  with  praises. 

A  good  man  out  of  the  good  treasure  of  his  heart 
bringeth  forth  good  things.  Your  letter  so  redounded 
to  your  honour,  as  well  as  to  mine,  that  I  gladly 
welcomed  it,  Most  Reverend  Sir,  as  giving  me  an 
occasion  of  addressing  to  you  the  praises  of  which 


134  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

you  are  so  well  worthy,  and  as  affording  me  just 
satisfaction  that  you  have  done  me  so  much  honour 
as  that  your  Highness  should  deign  to  stoop  to  me, 
and  to  show  so  much  esteem  for  my  humble  person. 
Indeed,  for  one  in  high  place  not  to  be  studious  of 
high  things,  but  to  condescend  to  those  of  low  estate, 
is  a  thing  than  which  there  is  nothing  more  pleasing 
to  God  or  more  rare  among  men.  Who  is  the  wise 
man,  except  he  who  listens  to  the  counsel  of  Wisdom, 
which  says  :  The  greater  thou  art,  the  more  humble  thyself 
(Ecclus.  iii.  1 8)  before  all.  This  humility  you  have 
shown  towards  me,  the  greater  towards  the  less,  an 
elder  to  a  younger.  I,  too,  could  extol  your  proved 
wisdom  in  due  praises,  perhaps  more  just  than  those 
of  which  your  wisdom  deemed  me  worthy.  It  is  of 
great  importance  in  order  to  gain  assured  knowledge 
of  things,  to  rely  on  exact  acquaintance  with  facts, 
rather  than  on  the  uncertain  testimony  of  public 
rumour  ;  and  then  what  we  have  proved  for  certain 
we  may  proclaim  without  hesitation.  What  you 
were  pleased  to  write  to  me  about  myself,  it  is  for 
you  to  ascertain.  I  find  an  undoubted  proof  of  your 
own  merit  in  your  letter,  though  it  be  so  full  of  my 
praises.  For  though  another,  perhaps,  might  be 
pleased  with  the  marks  of  learning  therein,  with  its 
sweet  and  graceful  language,  its  clear  style,  its  easy 
and  commendable  art,  I  place  before  all  this  the 
wonderful  humility,  whereby  your  Greatness  has 
cared  to  approach  one  so  humble  as  I,  to  overwhelm 
me  with  praises,  and  to  seek  for  my  friendship.  As 
for  what  refers  to  me  in  your  letter  I  read  it  not  as 
describing  what  I  am,  but  what  I  would  wish  to  be, 
and  what  I  am  ashamed  of  not  being.  Yet  whatever 


LETTER    XXXVI  135 

I  am,  I  am  yours  ;  and  if,  by  the  grace  of  God,  I 
ever  become  anything  better,  be  sure,  Most  Reverend 
and  dear  Father,  that  I  shall  still  remain  yours. 


LETTER  XXXVI  (circa  A.D.   1131) 
To   THE   SAME    HILDEBERT,   WHO    HAD    NOT    YET 

ACKNOWLEDGED    THE    LORD    INNOCENT    AS    POPE. 

He  exhorts  him  to  recognise  Innocent,  now  an  exile  in 
France,  owing  to  the  schism  of  Peter  Leonis,  as  the  rightful 
Pontiff. 

To  the  great  prelate,  most  exalted  in  renown, 
HILDEBERT,  by  the  grace  of  God  Archbishop  of 
Tours,  BERNARD,  called  Abbot  of  Clairvaux,  sends 
greeting,  and  prays  that  he  may  walk  in  the  Spirit, 
and  spiritually  discern  all  things. 

i.  To  address  you  in  the  words  of  the  prophet, 
Consolation  is  hid  from  their  eyes,  because  death  divideth 
between  brethren  (Hosea  xiii.  14,  VULG.).  For  it  seems 
as  if  according  to  the  language  of  Isaiah  they  have 
made  a  covenant  with  death,  and  are  at  agreement 
with  hell  (Is.  xxviii.  15).  For  behold,  Innocent,  that 
anointed  l  of  the  Lord,  is  set  for  the  fall  and  rising 
again  of  many  (cf.  S.  Luke  ii.  34).  Those  who  are 
of  God,  gladly  join  themselves  to  him  ;  but  he  who 
is  of  the  opposite  part,  is  either  of  Antichrist,  or 
Antichrist  himself.  The  abomination  is  seen  standing 
in  the  holy  place  ;  and  that  he  may  seize  it,  like  a 
flame  he  is  burning  the  sanctuary  of  God.  He 

1  Christus. 


136  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

persecutes  Innocent,  and  in  him  all  innocence. 
Innocent,  in  sooth,  flees  from  the  face  of  Leo,  as 
saith  the  prophet :  The  lion  hath  roared ;  who  will  not 
/ear  (Amos  iii.  8).  He  flees  according  to  the  bidding 
of  the  Lord,  which  says,  When  they  persecute  you  in  one 
city  flee  ye  into  another  (S.  Matt.  x.  23).  He  flees, 
and  thereby  proves  himself  an  apostolic  man,  by 
ennobling  himself  with  the  apostle's  example.  For 
Paul  blushed  not  to  be  let  down  in  a  basket  over 
a  wall  (Acts  ix.  25),  and  so  to  escape  the  hands  of 
those  who  were  seeking  his  life.  He  escaped  not 
to  spare  his  life,  but  to  give  place  unto  wrath  ;  not 
to  avoid  death,  but  to  attain  life.  Rightly  does  the 
Church  yield  his  place  to  Innocent,  whom  she  sees 
walking  in  the  same  steps. 

2.  However,  Innocent's  flight  is  not  without  fruit. 
He  suffers,  no  doubt,  but  is  honoured  in  the  midst 
of  his  sufferings.  Driven  from  the  city,  he  is 
welcomed  by  the  world.  From  the  ends  of  the 
earth,  men  meet  the  fugitive  with  sustenance  ;  al 
though  the  rage  of  that  Shimei,  Gerard  of  Angouleme, 
has  not  yet  entirely  ceased  to  curse  David.  Whether 
it  pleases  or  does  not  please  that  sinner  who  sees 
it  with  discontent,  he  cannot  prevent  Innocent  being 
honoured  in  the  presence  of  kings,  and  bearing  a 
crown  of  glory.  Have  not  all  princes  acknowledged 
that  he  is  in  truth  the  elect  of  God  ?  The  Kings 
of  France,  England,  and  Spain,  and  finally  the  King 
of  the  Romans,  receive  Innocent  as  Pope,  and  recog 
nise  him  alone  as  bishop  of  their  souls  (2  Sam.  xvii.). 
Only  Ahitophel  is  now  unaware  that  his  counsels 
have  been  exposed  and  brought  to  nought.  In  vain 
the  wretch  labours  to  devise  evil  counsel  against  the 


LETTER    XXXVI  137 

people  of  God,  and  to  plot  against  the  saints  who 
stoutly  adhere  to  their  saintly  Pontiff,  scorning  to 
bow  the  knee  to  Baal.  By  no  guile  shall  he  avail 
to  procure  for  his  parricide  the  kingdom  over  Israel 
and  the  holy  city,  which  is  the  church  of  the  living  God, 
the  pillar  and  ground  of  the  truth.  A  threefold  cord  is 
not  quickly  broken  (Ecclesiastes  iv.  12).  The  three 
fold  cord  of  the  choice  of  the  better  sort,  the  assent 
of  the  majority,  and,  what  is  more  effective  yet  in 
these  matters,  the  witness  of  a  pure  life,  commend 
Innocent  to  all,  and  establish  him  as  chief  Pontiff. 

3.  And  so,  very  Reverend  Father,  we  await  your 
vote,  late  though  it  be,  as  rain  upon  a  fleece  of 
wool.  We  do  not  disapprove  of  a  certain  slowness, 
for  it  savours  of  gravity,  and  banishes  all  sign  of 
levity.  For  Mary  did  not  at  once  answer  the  angel's 
salutation,  but  first  considered  in  her  mind  what  manner 
of  salutation  this  should  be  (S.  Luke  i.  29);  and  Timothy 
was  commanded  to  lay  hands  suddenly  on  no  man 
(i  Tim.  v.  22).  Yet  I,  who  am  known  to  the  Prelate 
I  am  addressing,  venture  to  say  "  nought  in  excess  ; " 
I,  his  acquaintance  and  friend,  say,  Let  not  a  man 
think  more  highly  of  himself  than  he  ought  to  think  (Rom. 
xii.  3).  It  is  a  shame,  I  must  confess,  that  the  old 
serpent,  letting  silly  women  alone,  has,  with  a  new 
boldness,  even  assayed  the  valour  of  your  heart,  and 
dared  to  shake  to  its  base  so  mighty  a  pillar  of  the 
Church.  I  trust,  however,  that  though  shaken  it  is 
not  tottering  to  its  fall.  For  the  friend  of  the  bride 
groom  standeth  and  rejoiceth  at  the  bridegrooms  voice 
(S.  John  iii.  29);  the  voice  of  joy  and  health,  the 
voice  of  unity  and  peace. 


138  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

LETTER    XXXVII  (circa  A.D.    1131) 
To  MAGISTER  GEOFFREY,  OF  LoRETTO.1 

He  asks  his  assistance  in  maintaining  the  Pontificate  of 
Innocent  against  the  schism  of  Peter  Leonis. 

i.  We  look  for  scent  in  flowers  and  for  savour 
in  fruits  ;  and  so,  most  dearly  beloved  brother, 
attracted  by  the  scent  of  your  name  which  is  as 
perfume  poured  forth,  I  long  to  know  you  also  in 
the  fruit  of  your  work.  For  it  is  not  I  alone, 
but  even  God  Himself,  who  has  need  of  no  man, 
yet  who,  at  this  crisis,  needs  your  co-operation, 
if  you  do  not  act  falsely  towards  us.  It  is  a  glorious 
thing  to  be  able  to  be  a  fellow-worker  with  God  ; 
but  perilous  to  be  able  and  not  to  be  so.  Moreover, 
you  have  favour  with  God  and  man  ;  you  have 
knowledge,  a  spirit  of  freedom,  a  speech  both  lively 
and  effectual,  seasoned  with  salt ;  and  it  is  not 
right  that  with  all  these  great  gifts  you  should 
fail  the  bride  of  Christ  in  such  danger,  for  you  are 
the  friend  of  the  Bridegroom.  A  friend  is  best 
tried  in  times  of  need.  What  then  ?  Can  you  con 
tinue  at  rest  while  your  Mother  the  Church  is 
grievously  distressed  ?  Rest  has  had  its  proper 
time,  and  holy  peace  has  till  now  freely  and  duly 

1  Geoffrey  of  Loretto,  a  most  renowned  doctor,  afterwards  Arch 
bishop  of  Bordeaux.  He  took  his  name  from  Loretto,  a  place  in  the 
Diocese  of  Tours,  close  to  Poitou.  It  was  once  famous  for  a  Priory, 
subject  to  Marmoutiers.  This  is  why  Gerard  of  Angouleme  is  spoken 
of  to  Geoffrey  in  this  Letter  as  "  the  wild  beast  near  you."  Another  de 
rivation  is  "  L'oratoire,"  a  monastery  of  the  Cistercians  in  the  Diocese  of 
Angers. 


LETTER    XXXVII  139 

done  its  own  work.  It  is  now  the  time  for  action, 
because  they  have  destroyed  the  law.  That  beast 
of  the  Apocalypse  (Apoc.  xiii.  5-7),  to  whom  is 
given  a  mouth  speaking  blasphemies,  and  to  make 
war  with  the  saints,  is  sitting  on  the  throne  of  Peter, 
like  a  lion  ready  for  his  prey.  Another  l  beast  also 
stands  hissing  at  your  side,  like  a  whelp  lurking  in 
secret  places.  The  fiercer  here  and  the  craftier 
there  are  met  together  in  one  against  the  Lord 
and  his  annointed.  Let  us,  then,  make  haste  to  burst 
their  bonds  and  cast  away  their  cords  from  us. 

2.  I,  for  my  part,  together  with  other  servants 
of  God  who  are  set  on  fire  with  the  Divine  flame, 
have  laboured,  with  the  help  of  God,  to  unite  the 
nations  and  kings  in  one,  in  order  to  break  down 
the  conspiracy  of  evil  men,  and  to  destroy  every 
high  thing  that  exalts  itself  against  the  knowledge 
of  God.  Nor  have  I  laboured  in  vain.  The  Kings 
of  Germany,  France,  England,  Scotland,  Spain, 
and  Jerusalem,  with  all  the  clergy  and  people,  side 
with  and  adhere  to  the  Lord  Innocent,  like  sons 
to  a  father,  like  the  members  to  their  head,  being 
anxious  to  preserve  the  unity  of  the  spirit  in  the 
bond  of  peace.  And  the  Church  is  right  in  acknow 
ledging  him,  whose  reputation  is  discovered  to  be 
the  more  honourable  and  whose  election  is  found  to 
be  the  more  sound  and  regular,  having  the  advantage 
as  well  by  the  merit  as  well  as  by  the  number  of 
the  electors.  And  now,  brother,  why  do  you  hold 
back  ?  How  long  will  the  serpent  by  your  side  lull 
your  careless  energies  to  repose  ?  I  know  that  you 
are  a  son  of  peace,  and  can  by  no  reason  be  led 

1  (ierard  of  Angoulcmc. 


I4o  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

to  desert  unity.  But,  of  course,  that  alone  is  not 
enough,  unless  you  study  both  to  maintain  it  and 
to  make  war  with  all  your  might  upon  the  disturbers 
thereof.  And  do  not  fear  the  loss  of  peace,  for  you 
shall  be  rewarded  by  no  small  increase  of  glory  if 
your  efforts  succeed  in  quieting,  or  even  silencing, 
that  wild  beast  near  you  ;  and  if  the  goodness  of 
God,  through  your  means,  rescue  from  the  mouth 
of  the  lion  so  great  a  prize  for  the  Church  as  William, 
Count  of  Poitiers. 


LETTER  XXXVIII  (circa  A.D.  1135) 
To  HIS  MONKS  OF  CLAIRVAUX. 

He  excuses  his  long  absence,  from  which  he  suffers  more  than 
they ;  and  briefly  reminds  them  of  their  duty. 

To  his  dearly-loved  brethren  the  Monks  of  Clair- 
vaux,  the  converts,1  and   the    novices,  their  brother 

1  "  Converts "  (conversi)  was  the  name  formerly  given  to  adults  who 
had  been  converted  to  the  religious  life,  and  who  were  distinguished  by 
this  name  from  those  who  were  offered  as  children.  The  lay  brethren  are 
here  meant ;  cf.  ep.  141  n.  I.  They  were  present  at  the  election  of  an 
abbot  (ep.  36  n.  2),  just  as  once  the  laity  were  joined  with  the  clergy  in  the 
election  of  a  bishop.  Here  they  are  named  before  the  novices,  but  in 
Sermon  22  (de  Diversis  n.  2)  they  come  after  them  ;  they  were  not  ad 
mitted  into  the  choir.  Bernard,  moreover,  distinguishes  them  from  the 
monks.  For  at  that  time  they  were  not  among  the  Cistercians  reckoned 
among  the  monks,  as  is  proved  by  the  Exordium  Cisterc.  (c.  15), 
although  they  made  some  profession.  Hence  Innocent  II.,  in  some  deed 
of  privilege  or  in  ep.  352,  here  says:  "Let  no  one  presume  without  your 
leave  to  receive  or  to  retain  any  one  of  your  converts  who  have  made  their 
profession,  but  are  not  monks,  be  he  archbishop,  bishop,  or  abbot."  In 
the  Council  of  Rheims,  held  under  F.ugenius  III.,  the  converts  are 


LETTER    XXXVIII  141 

BERNARD  sends  greeting,  bidding  them  rejoice  in  the 
Lord  always. 

1.  Judge  by  yourselves  what   I   am  suffering.     If 
my  absence  is  painful  to  you,  let  no  one  doubt  that 
it  is  far  more  painful  to  me.     The  loss  is  not  equal, 
the  burden  is  not  the  same,  for  you  are  deprived  of 
but  one  individual,  while  I  am  bereft  of  all  of  you. 
It  cannot   but  be  that   I   am  weighed   down  by  as 
many  anxieties  as  you  are  in  number  ;   I  grieve  for 
the  absence  of  each  one  of  you,  and  fear  the  dangers 
which  may  attack  you.     This  double  grief  will   not 
leave  me    until   I   am    restored    to    my   children.     I 
doubt  not  that  you  feel  the  same  for  me  ;  but  then  I 
am  but  one.     You  have  but  a  single  ground  for  sad 
ness  ;  I  have  many,  for  I  am  sad  on  account  of  you 
all.     Nor  is  it  my  only  trouble  that  I  am  forced  to 
live  for  a  time  apart  from  you,  when  without  you  I 
should  regard  even  to  reign  as  miserable  slavery,  but 
there  is  added  to  this  that  I  am  forced  to  live  among 
things  which  altogether  disturb  the  tranquillity  of  my 
soul,  and  perhaps  are  little  in  harmony  with  the  end 
of  the  monastic  life. 

2.  And  since  you  know  these  things,  you  must  not 
be  angry  at  my  long  absence,  which  is  not  according 
to    my   will,    but    is   due   to   the    necessities   of    the 
Church  ;  rather  pity  me.     I  hope  that  it  will  not  be 
a  long  absence  now  ;  do  you  pray  that  it  may  not  be 
unfruitful.     Let  any  losses  which  may  in  the  mean 
time  happen  to  befall  you  be  regarded  as  gains,  for 

called  "  the  professed  "  (Can.  7),  and  although  they  may  have  returned  to 
the  world,  yet  they  are  declared  incapable  of  matrimony,  like  the  monks, 
from  whom,  nevertheless,  they  are  distinguished.  For  the  early  days  of 
Clairvaux  cf.  notes  to  ep.  31. 


142  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

the  cause  is  God's.  And  since  He  is  gracious  and 
all-powerful,  He  will  easily  make  any  losses  good, 
and  even  add  greater  riches.  Therefore,  let  us  be  of 
good  courage,  since  we  have  God  with  us,  in  whom 
I  am  present  with  you,  though  we  may  seem  to  be 
separated  by  a  long  distance.  Let  no  one  among 
you  who  shows  himself  attentive  to  his  duties, 
humble,  reverent,  devoted  to  reading,  watchful  unto 
prayer,  anxious  for  brotherly  love,  think  that  I  am 
absent  from  him.  For  can  I  be  anything  but  present 
with  him  in  spirit  when  we  are  of  one  heart  and  one 
mind  ?  But  if,  which  God  forbid,  there  be  among 
you  any  whisperer,  or  any  that  is  double-tongued,  a 
murmurer,  or  rebellious,  or  impatient  of  discipline, 
or  restless  or  truant,  and  who  is  not  ashamed  to  eat 
the  bread  of  idleness,  from  such  I  should  be  far 
absent  in  soul  even  though  present  in  body,  just 
because  he  would  have  already  set  himself  far  from 
God  by  a  distance  of  character  and  not  of  space. 

3.  In  the  meanwhile,  brethren,  until  I  come,  serve 
the  Lord  in  fear,  that  in  Him  being  delivered  from 
the  hand  of  your  enemies  you  may  serve  Him  without 
fear.  Serve  Him  in  hope,  for  He  is  faithful  that 
promised ;  serve  Him  by  good  works,  for  He  is 
bountiful  to  reward.  To  say  nothing  else,  He  rightly 
claims  this  life  of  ours  as  His  own,  because  He  laid 
down  His  own  to  obtain  it.  Let  none,  therefore,  live 
to  himself,  but  to  Him  who  died  for  him.  For 
whom  can  I  more  justly  live  than  for  Him  whose 
death  was  my  life  ?  for  whom  with  more  profit  to 
myself  than  for  Him  who  promises  eternal  life  ?  for 
whom  under  a  greater  necessity  than  for  Him  who 
threatens  me  with  everlasting  flames  ?  But  I  serve 


LETTER    XXXIX  143 

Him  willingly,  because  love  gives  liberty.  To  this  I 
exhort  my  children.  Serve  Him  in  that  love  which 
casteth  out  fear,  which  feels  no  labours,  seeks  for  no 
reward,  thinks  of  no  merit,  and  yet  is  more  urgent 
than  all.  No  terror  is  so  powerful,  no  rewards  so 
inviting,  no  righteousness  so  exacting.  May  it  join 
me  to  you  never  to  be  divided,  may  it  also  bring  me 
before  you,  especially  at  your  hours  of  prayer,  my 
brethren,  dearly  beloved  and  greatly  longed  for. 


LETTER  XXXIX  (A.D.   1137) 
To  THE  SAME 

He  expresses  his  regret  at  his  very  long  absence  from  his  beloved 
Clairvaux,  and  his  desire  to  return  to  his  dear  sons.  He 
tells  them  of  the  consolations  that  he  feels  nevertheless  in 
his  great  labours  for  the  Church. 

i.  My  soul  is  sorrowful  until  I  return,  and  it 
refuses  to  be  comforted  till  it  see  you.  For  what  is 
my  consolation  in  the  hour  of  evil,  and  in  the  place 
of  my  pilgrimage  ?  Are  not  you  in  the  Lord  ? 
Wherever  I  go,  the  sweet  memory  of  you  never 
leaves  me  ;  but  the  sweeter  the  memory  the  more 
I  feel  the  absence.  Ah,  me  !  that  the  time  of  my 
sojourning  here  is  not  only  prolonged,  but  its  burden 
increased,  and  truly,  as  the  Prophet  says,  they  who  for 
a  time  separate  me  from  you  have  added  to  the  pain  of  my 
wounds  (Ps.  Ixix.  26).  Life  is  an  exile,  and  one  that 
is  dreary  enough,  for  while  we  are  in  the  body  we 
are  absent  from  the  Lord.  To  this  is  added  the 


144  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

special  grief  which  almost  makes  me  impatient,  that 
I  am  forced  to  live  without  you.  It  is  a  protracted 
sickness,  a  wearisome  waiting,  to  be  so  long  subject 
to  the  vanity  which  possesses  everything  here,  to  be 
imprisoned  within  the  horrid  dungeon  of  a  noisome 
body,  to  be  still  bound  with  the  chains  of  death,  and 
the  ropes  of  sin,  and  all  this  time  to  be  away  from 
Christ.  But  against  all  these  things  one  solace  was 
given  me  from  above,  instead  of  His  glorious  coun 
tenance  which  has  not  yet  been  revealed,  and  that  is 
the  sight  of  the  holy  temple  of  God,  which  is  you. 
From  this  temple  it  used  to  seem  to  me  an  easy  pas 
sage  to  that  glorious  temple,  after  which  the  Prophet 
sighed  when  he  said  :  One  thing  have  I  desired  of  the 
Lord,  which  I  will  require,  even  that  I  may  dwell  in  the 
house  of  the  Lord  all  the  days  of  my  life,  to  behold  the 
fair  beauty  of  the  Lord  and  to  visit  His  temple  (Ps.  xxvi.  4). 
2.  What  shall  I  say  ?  how  often  has  that  solace 
been  taken  from  me  ?  Lo,  this  is  now  the  third 
time,  if  I  mistake  not,  that  my  children  have  been 
taken  from  me.  The  babes  have  been  too  early 
weaned,  and  I  am  not  allowed  to  bring  up  those 
whom  I  begot  through  the  Gospel.  In  short,  I  am 
forced  to  abandon  my  own  children  and  look  after 
those  of  others,  and  I  hardly  know  which  is  the  more 
distressing,  to  be  taken  from  the  former,  or  to  have 
to  do  with  the  latter.  O,  good  Jesu  !  is  my  whole 
life  thus  to  waste  away  in  grief,  and  my  years  in 
mourning  ?  It  is  good  for  me,  O  Lord,  rather  to  die 
than  to  live,  only  let  it  be  amongst  my  brethren, 
those  of  my  own  household,  those  who  are  dearest 
to  my  heart.  That,  as  all  know,  is  sweeter  and  safer, 
and  more  natural.  Nay,  it  would  be  a  loving  act  to 


LETTER    XXXIX  145 

grant  to  me  that  I  might  be  refreshed  before  I  go 
away,  and  be  no  more  seen.  If  it  please  my  Lord 
that  the  eyes  of  a  father,  who  is  not  worthy  to  be 
called  a  father,  should  be  closed  by  the  hands  of  his 
sons,  that  they  may  witness  his  last  moments,  soothe 
his  end,  and  raise  his  spirit  by  their  loving  prayers  to 
the  blissful  fellowship,  if  you  think  him  worthy  to 
have  his  body  buried  with  the  bodies  of  those  who 
are  blessed  because  poor,  if  I  have  found  favour  in 
Thy  sight,  this  I  most  earnestly  ask  that  I  may  obtain 
by  the  prayers  and  merits  of  these  my  brethren. 
Nevertheless,  not  my  will  but  Thine  be  done.  Not 
for  my  own  sake  do  I  wish  for  either  life  or  death. 

3.  But  it  is  only  right,  that  as  you  have  heard  of 
my  grief,  you  should  also  know  what  consolation  I 
have.  The  first  solace  for  all  the  trouble  and  mis 
fortune  that  I  undergo  is  the  thought  that  the  cause 
I  strive  for  is  that  of  Him  to  whom  all  things  live. 
Whether  I  will  or  no,  I  must  live  for  Him  who 
bought  my  life  at  the  price  of  His  own,  and  who  is 
able,  as  a  merciful  and  righteous  Judge,  to  recom 
pense  us  in  that  day  whatever  we  may  suffer  for 
Him.  But  if  I  have  served  as  His  soldier  against 
my  will,  it  will  be  only  that  a  dispensation  has  been 
entrusted  unto  me,  and  I  shall  be  an  unprofitable 
servant  ;  but  if  I  serve  willingly  I  shall  have  glory. 
In  this  consideration,  then,  I  breathe  again  for  a 
little.  My  second  consolation  is  that  often,  without 
any  merit  of  mine,  grace  from  above  has  crowned 
me  in  my  labours,  and  that  grace  in  me  was  not  in 
vain,  as  I  have  many  times  found,  and  as  you  have 
seen  to  some  extent.  But  how  necessary  just  now 
the  presence  of  my  feebleness  is  to  the  Church  of 

K 


146  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

God,  I  would  say  for  your  consolation  were  it  not 
that  it  would  sound  like  boasting.  But  as  it  is,  it  is 
better  that  you  should  learn  it  from  others. 

4.  Moved  by  the  pressing  request  of  the  Emperor, 
by  the  Apostolic  command,  as  well  as  by  the  prayers 
of  the  Church  and  the  princes,  whether  with  my  will 
or  against  my  will,  weak  and  ill,  and,  to  say  truth, 
carrying  about  with  me  the  pallid  image  of  the  King 
of  terrors,  I  am  borne  away  into  Apulia.  Pray  for 
the  things  which  make  for  the  Church's  peace  and 
our  salvation,  that  I  may  again  see  you,  live  with  you, 
and  die  with  you,  and  so  live  that  ye  may  obtain. 
In  my  weakness  and  time  of  distress,  with  tears  and 
groanings,  I  have  dictated  these  words,  as  our  dear 
brother  Baldwin l  can  testify,  who  has  taken  them 
down  from  my  mouth,  and  who  has  been  called  by 
the  Church  to  another  office  and  elevated  to  a  new 
dignity.  Pray,  too,  for  him,  as  my  one  comfort  now, 
and  in  whom  my  spirit  is  greatly  refreshed.  Pray, 
too,  for  our  lord  the  Pope,  who  regards  me  and  all 
of  you  equally  with  the  tenderest  affection.  Pray, 
too,  for  my  lord  the  Chancellor,  who  is  to  me  as  a 
mother  ;  and  for  those  who  are  with  him — my  lord 
Luke,  my  lord  Chrysogonus,  and  Master  Ivo  2 — who 

1  Baldwin,    first    Cardinal   of  the   Cistercian   Order,    was  created    by 
Innocent,  A.D.  1130,  at  a  Council  held  at  Claremont.     He  was  afterwards 
made  Archbishop  of  Pisa  ;  cf.  Life  of  S.  Bernard  (lib.  ii.  n.  49) :  "  In  Pisa 
was  Baldwin  born,  the  glory  of  his  native  land,  and  a  burning  light  to  the 
Church."     So  great  a  man  did  not  think  it  beneath  him  to  act  as  Bernard's 
secretary,  and  his  praises  are  sung  in  ep.  245,  cf.  ep.  201. 

2  All  these  were  Cardinals.     Luke,  of  the  title  of  SS.  John  and  Paul, 
was  created  A.D.  1132  ;  Chrysogonus,  of  the  title  of  S.  Maria  de  Porticu, 
A.D.  1134;  Ivo,  a  regular  Canon  of  S.  Victor  of  Paris,  A.D.   1130,  of  the 
title  of  S.  Laurence  in  Damascus  ;  to  him  ep.  193  was  written. 


LETTER    XL  147 

show  themselves  as  brothers.  They  who  are  with 
me — Brother  Bruno  and  Brother  Gerard1 — salute 
you  and  ask  for  your  prayers. 


LETTER  XL 

To  THOMAS,   PRIOR  OF  BEVERLEY 

This  Thomas  had  taken  the  vows  of  the  Cistercian  Order  at 
Clairvanx.  As  he  showed  hesitation,  Bernard  urges  his 
tardy  spirit  to  fulfil  them.  But  the  following  letter  will 
prove  that  it  was  a  warning  to  deaf  ears,  where  it  relates 
the  unhappy  end  of  Thomas.  In  this  letter  Bernard 
sketches  with  a  master's  hand  the  whole  scheme  of  salva 
tion. 

BERNARD  to  his  beloved  son  THOMAS,  as  being  his 
son. 

i.  What  is  the  good  of  words?  An  ardent  spirit 
and  a  strong  desire  cannot  express  themselves  simply 
by  the  tongue.  We  want  your  sympathy  and  your 
bodily  presence  to  speak  to  us  ;  for  if  you  come  you 
will  know  us  better,  and  we  shall  better  appreciate 
each  other.  We  have  long  been  held  in  a  mutual 
bond  as  debtors  one  to  another  ;  for  I  owe  you  faith 
ful  care  and  you  owe  me  submissive  obedience.  Let 
our  actions  and  not  our  pens,  if  you  please,  prove 
each  of  us.  I  wish  you  would  apply  to  yourself 
henceforth  and  carry  out  towards  me  those  words  of 
the  Only  Begotten  :  The  works  which  the  Father  hath 

1  Bruno  is  called  (ep.  209)  the  father  of  many  disciples  in  Sicily.     Gerard 
seems  to  be  Bernard's  brother.     For  Bruno  see  also  ep.  165  n.  4. 


148  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

given  Me  to  finish,  the  same  works  bear  witness  of  Me  (S. 
John  v.  36).  For,  indeed,  only  thus  does  the  spirit 
of  the  Only  Son  bear  witness  with  our  spirit  that  we 
also  are  the  sons  of  God,  when,  quickening  us  from 
dead  works,  He  causes  us  to  bring  forth  the  works  of 
life.  A  good  or  bad  tree  is  distinguished,  not  by  its 
leaves  or  flowers,  but  by  its  fruit.  So  By  their  fruits, 
He  saith,  ye  shall  know  them  (S.  Matt.  vii.  16).  Works, 
then,  and  not  words,  make  the  difference  between 
sons  of  God  and  sons  of  unbelief.  By  works,  accord 
ingly,  do  you  display  your  sincere  desire  and  make 
proof  of  mine. 

2.  I  long  for  your  presence  ;  my  heart  has  long 
wished  for  you,  and  expected  the  fulfilment  of  your 
promises.  Why  am  I  so  pressing  ?  Certainly  not 
from  any  personal  or  earthly  feeling.  I  desire  either 
to  be  profited  by  you  or  to  be  of  service  to  you. 
Noble  birth,  bodily  strength  and  beauty,  the  glow  of 
youth,  estates,  palaces,  and  sumptuous  furniture,  ex 
ternal  badges  of  dignity,  and,  I  may  also  add,  the 
world's  wisdom — all  these  are  of  the  world,  and  the 
world  loves  its  own.  But  for  how  long  will 
they  endure  ?  For  ever  ?  Assuredly  not  ;  for  the 
world  itself  will  not  last  for  ever  ;  but  these  will 
not  last  even  for  long.  In  fact,  the  world  will 
not  be  able  long  to  keep  these  gifts  for  you,  nor  will 
you  dwell  long  in  the  world  to  enjoy  them,  for  the 
days  of  man  are  short.  The  world  passes  away  with 
its  lusts,  but  it  dismisses  you  before  it  quite  passes 
away  itself.  How  can  you  take  unlimited  pleasure 
in  a  love  that  soon  must  end  ?  But  I  ever  love  you, 
not  your  possessions  ;  let  them  go  whence  they  were 
derived.  I  only  require  of  you  one  thing :  that  you 


LETTER    XL  149 

would  be  mindful  of  your  promise,  and  not  deny  us 
any  longer  the  satisfaction  of  your  presence  among 
us,  who  love  you  sincerely,  and  will  love  you  for 
ever.  In  fact,  if  we  love  purely  in  our  life,  we  shall 
also  not  be  divided  in  death.  For  those  gifts  which 
I  wish  for  in  your  case,  or  rather  for  you,  belong 
not  to  the  body  or  to  time  only ;  and  so  they  fail  not 
with  the  body,  nor  pass  away  with  time  ;  nay,  when 
the  body  is  laid  aside  they  delight  still  more,  and  last 
when  time  is  gone.  They  have  nothing  in  common 
with  the  gifts  above-mentioned,  or  such  as  they  with 
which,  I  imagine,  not  the  Father,  but  the  world  has 
endowed  you.  For  which  of  these  does  not  vanish 
before  death,  or  at  last  fall  a  victim  to  it  ? 

3.  But,  indeed,  that  is  the  best  part,  which  shall 
not  be  taken  away  for  ever.  What  is  that  ?  Eye 
hath  not  seen  it,  nor  ear  heard,  neither  hath  it  entered  into 
the  heart  of  man  (i  Cor.  ii.  9).  He  who  is  a  man  and 
walks  simply  according  to  man's  nature  only,  he  who, 
to  speak  more  plainly,  is  still  content  with  flesh  and 
blood,  is  wholly  ignorant  what  that  is,  because  flesh 
and  blood  will  not  reveal  the  things  which  God  alone 
reveals  through  His  Spirit.  So  the  natural  man  is  in 
no  way  admitted  to  the  secret  ;  in  fact,  he  receiveth 
not  the  things  of  the  Spirit  of  God  (i  Cor.  ii.  14). 
Blessed  are  they  who  hear  His  words.  /  have  called 
you  friends ,  for  all  things  that  I  have  heard  of  My  Father 
I  have  made  known  to  you  (S.  John  xv.  15).  O,  wicked 
world,  which  wilt  not  bless  thy  friends  except  thou 
make  them  enemies  of  God,  and  consequently  un 
worthy  of  the  council  of  the  blessed.  For  clearly  he 
who  is  willing  to  be  thy  friend  makes  himself  the 
enemy  of  God.  And  if  the  servant  knoweth  not  what 


150  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

his  Lord  doeth,  how  much  less  the  enemy  ?  More 
over,  the  friend  of  the  Bridegroom  standeth,  and  re- 
joiceth  with  joy  because  of  the  Bridegroom's  voice  ; 
whence  also  it  says,  My  soul  failed  when  [my  beloved] 
spake  (Cant.  v.  6).  And  so  the  friend  of  the  world  is 
shut  out  from  the  council  of  the  friends  of  God,  who 
have  received  not  the  spirit  of  this  world  but  the 
spirit  which  is  of  God,  that  they  may  know  the  things 
which  are  given  to  them  of  God.  /  thank  Thee,  O 
Father,  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  (S.  Matt.  xi. 
25,  26),  not  because  they  of  themselves  deserved  it. 
For  all  have  sinned,  and  come  short  of  Thy  glory, 
that  Thou  mayest  freely  send  the  Spirit  of  Thy  Son, 
crying  in  the  hearts  of  the  sons  of  adoption  :  Abba, 
Father.  For  those  who  are  led  by  this  Spirit,  they 
are  sons,  and  cannot  be  kept  from  their  Father's 
council.  Indeed,  they  have  the  Spirit  dwelling 
within  them,  who  searches  even  the  deep  .things  of 
God.  In  short,  of  what  can  they  be  ignorant  whom 
grace  teaches  everything  ? 

4.  Woe  unto  you,  ye  sons  of  this  world,  because 
of  your  wisdom,  which  is  foolishness  !  Ye  know  not 
the  spirit  of  salvation,  nor  have  share  in  the  counsel, 
which  the  Father  alone  discloses  alone  to  the  Son, 
and  to  him  to  whom  the  Son  will  reveal  Him.  For  who 
hath  known  the  mind  of  the  Lord?  Or  who  hath  been 
His  counsellor?  (Rom.  xi.  34).  Not,  indeed,  on  one  ; 
but  only  a  few,  only  those  who  can  truly  say  :  The 
only  begotten  Son,  which  is  in  the  bosom  of  the  Father, 
He  hath  declared  Him.  Woe  to  the  world  for  its 
clamour !  That  same  Only  Begotten,  like  as  the 


LETTER    XL  151 

Angel  of  a  great  revelation,  proclaims  among  the 
people  :  He  who  hath  ears  to  hear  let  him  hear.  And 
since  he  finds  not  ears  worthy  to  receive  His  words, 
and  to  whom  He  may  commit  the  secret  of  the 
Father,  he  weaves  parables  for  the  crowd,  that  hear 
ing  they  might  not  hear,  and  seeing  they  might  not 
understand.  But  for  His  friends  how  different  !  With 
them  He  speaks  apart :  To  you  it  is  given  to  know  the 
mysteries  of  the  kingdom  of  God  (S.  Luke  viii.  8— 10)  ;  to 
whom  also  He  says:  Fear  not,  little  flock,  for  it  is  your 
Father's  good  pleasure  to  give  you  the  kingdom  (S.  Luke 
xii.  32).  Who  are  these  ?  These  are  they  whom  He 
foreknew  and  foreordained  to  be  conformed  to  the  image 
of  His  Son,  that  He  might  be  the  first  born  among  many 
brethren.  The  Lord  knows  who  are  His.  Here  is 
His  great  secret  and  the  counsel  which  He  has  made 
known  unto  men.  But  He  judges  no  others  worthy  of 
a  share  in  so  great  mystery,  except  those  whom  He 
has  foreknown  and  foreordained  as  His  own.  For 
those  whom  He  foreordained,  them  also  He  called. 
Who,  except  he  be  called,  may  approach  God's 
counsel  ?  Those  whom  He  called,  them  also  He 
justified.  Over  them  a  Sun  arises,  though  not  that 
sun  which  may  daily  be  seen  arising  over  good  and 
bad  alike,  but  He  of  whom  the  Prophet  speaks  when 
addressing  himself  to  those  alone  who  have  been 
called  to  the  counsel,  he  says:  Unto  you  that  fear  My 
name  shall  the  Sun  of  Righteousness  arise  (Malachi  iv.  2).1 

1  So  all  texts,  except  a  few,  in  which  the  reading  is  :  "  Indeed,  that 
Sun  is  promised  to  those  who  have  been  called,"  &c.  In  the  first  edition, 
and  many  subsequent  ones  :  "  For  the  Sun  which  arises  is  not  that  which 
is  daily  to  be  seen  rising  over  good  and  bad,  but  one  promised  by  the 
prophetic  warning  to  such  as  fear  God,  to  those  only  who  have  been 
called,"  &c. 


152  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

So  while  the  sons  of  unbelief  remain  in  darkness,  the 
child  of  light  leaves  the  power  of  darkness  and  comes 
into  this  new  light,  if  once  he  can  with  faith  say  to 
God  :  /  ant  a  companion  of  all  them  that  fear  Thee  (Ps. 
cxix.  63).  Do  you  see  how  faith  precedes,  in  order 
that  justification  may  follow  ?  Perchance,  then,  we 
are  called  through  fear,  and  justified  by  love.  Finally, 
the  just  shall  live  by  faith  (Rom.  i.  17),  that/a/'//*,  doubt 
less,  which  works  by  love  (Gal.  v.  6). 

5.  So  at  his  call  let  the  sinner  hear  what  he  has  to 
fear  ;  and  thus  coming  to  the  Sun  of  Righteousness, 
let  him,  now  enlightened,  see  what  he  must  love. 
For  what  is  that  saying:  The  merciful  goodness  of  the 
Lord  endureth  from  everlasting  to  everlasting  upon  them 
that  fear  Him  (Ps.  ciii.  17).  From  everlasting,  because 
of  predestination,  to  everlasting,  because  of  glorifi 
cation.  The  one  process  is  without  beginning,  the 
other  knows  no  ending.  Indeed,  those  whom  He 
predestines  from  everlasting,  He  glorifies  to  ever 
lasting,  with  an  interval,  at  least,  in  the  case  of  adults, 
of  calling  and  justification  between.  So  at  the  rising 
of  the  Sun  of  Righteousness,  the  mystery,  hidden 
from  eternity,  concerning  souls  that  have  been  pre 
destinated  and  are  to  be  glorified,  begins  in  some 
degree  to  emerge  from  the  depths  of  eternity,  as  each 
soul,  called  by  fear  and  justified  by  love,  becomes 
assured  that  it,  too,  is  of  the  number  of  the  blessed, 
knowing  well  that  whom  He  justified,  them  also  He  glori 
fied  (Rom.  viii.  30).  What  then  ?  The  soul  hears 
that  it  is  called  when  it  is  stricken  with  fear.  It  feels 
also  that  it  is  justified  when  it  is  surrounded  with 
love.  Can  it  do  otherwise  than  be  confident  that  it 
will  be  glorified  ?  There  is  a  beginning  ;  there  is 


LETTER    XL  153 

continuation.  Can  it  despair  only  of  the  consum 
mation  ?  Indeed,  if  the  fear  of  the  Lord,  in  which 
our  calling  is  said  to  consist,  is  the  beginning  of 
wisdom,  surely  the  love  of  God — that  love,  I  mean, 
which  springs  from  faith,  and  is  the  source  of  our 
justification — is  progress  in  wisdom.  And  so  what 
but  the  consummation  of  wisdom  is  that  glorifica 
tion  which  we  hope  for  at  the  last  from  the  vision  of 
God  that  will  make  us  like  Him  ?  And  so  one  deep 
calleth  another  because  of  the  noise  of  the  water-pipes  (Ps. 
xlii.  9),  when,  with  terrible  judgments,  that  un 
measured  Eternity  and  Eternal  Immensity,  whose 
wisdom  cannot  be  told,  leads  the  corrupt  and  in 
scrutable  heart  of  man  by  Its  own  power  and  good 
ness  forth  into  Its  own  marvellous  light. 

6.  For  instance,  let  us  suppose  a  man  in  the  world, 
held  fast  as  yet  in  the  love  of  this  world  and  of  his 
flesh  ;  and,  inasmuch  as  he  bears  the  image  of  the 
earthly  man,  occupied  with  earthly  things,  without 
a  thought  of  things  heavenly,  can  any  one  fail  to  see 
that  this  man  is  surrounded  with  horrible  darkness, 
unless  he  also  is  sitting  in  the  same  fatal  gloom  ? 
For  no  sign  of  his  salvation  has  yet  shone  upon  him  ; 
no  inner  inspiration  bears  its  witness  in  his  heart  as 
to  whether  an  eternal  predestination  destines  him  to 
good.  But,  then,  suppose  the  heavenly  compassion 
vouchsafes  sometime  to  have  regard  to  him,  and  to 
shed  upon  him  a  spirit  of  compunction  to  make  him 
bemoan  himself  and  learn  wisdom,  change  his  life, 
subdue  his  flesh,  love  his  neighbour,  cry  to  God,  and 
resolve  hereafter  to  live  to  God  and  not  to  the  world  ; 
and  suppose  that  thenceforward,  by  the  gracious  visi 
tation  of  heavenly  light  and  the  sudden  change  ac- 


154  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

complished  by  the  Right  Hand  of  the  Most  High,  he 
sees  clearly  that  he  is  no  longer  a  child  of  wrath,  but 
of  grace,  for  he  is  now  experiencing  the  fatherly 
love  and  divine  goodness  towards  him — a  love  which 
hitherto  had  been  concealed  from  him  so  completely 
as  not  only  to  leave  him  in  ignorance  whether  he 
deserved  love  or  hate,  but  also  as  to  make  his  own 
life  indicate  hatred  rather  than  love,  for  darkness  was 
still  on  the  face  of  the  deep — would  it  not  seem  to 
you  that  such  an  one  is  lifted  directly  out  of  the  pro- 
foundest  and  darkest  deep  of  horrible  ignorance  into 
the  pleasant  and  serene  deep  of  eternal  brightness  ? 

7.  And  then  at  length  God,  as  it  were,  divides  the 
light  from  the  darkness,  when  a  sinner,  enlightened 
by  the  first  rays  of  the  Sun  of  Righteousness,  casts 
off  the  works  of  darkness  and  puts  on  the  armour  of 
light.  His  own  conscience  and  the  sins  of  his  former 
life  alike  doom  him  as  a  true  child  of  Hell  to  eternal 
fires  ;  but  under  the  looks  with  which  the  Dayspring 
from  on  high  deigns  to  visit  him,  he  breathes  again, 
and  even  begins  to  hope  beyond  hope  that  he  shall 
enjoy  the  glory  of  the  sons  of  God.  For  rejoicing  at 
the  near  prospect  with  unveiled  face,  he  sees  it  in  the 
new  light,  and  says  :  Lord,  lift  Thou  up  the  light  of  Thy 
countenance  upon  us  ;  Thou  hast  put  gladness  in  my  heart 
(Ps.  iv.  7) ;  Lord,  what  is  man  that  Thou  hast  such  respect 
unto  him,  or  the  son  of  man  that  Thou  so  regardcst  him  ? 
(Ps.  cxliv.  3).  Now,  O  good  Father,  vile  worm  and 
worthy  of  eternal  hatred  as  he  is,  he  yet  trusts  that 
he  is  loved,  because  he  feels  that  he  loves  ;  nay,  be 
cause  he  has  a  foretaste  of  Thy  love  he  does  not 
blush  to  make  return  of  love.  Now  in  Thy  bright 
ness  it  becomes  clear,  Oh  !  Light  that  no  man  can 


LETTER    XL  155 

approach  unto,  what  good  things  Thou  hast  in  store 
for  so  poor  a  thing  as  man,  even  though  he  be  evil ! 
He  loves  not  undeservedly,  because  he  was  loved 
without  his  deserving  it ;  and  his  love  is  for  ever 
lasting,  because  he  knows  that  he  has  been  loved 
from  everlasting.  He  brings  to  light  for  the  comfort 
of  the  sorrowful  the  great  design  which  from  eternity 
had  lain  in  the  bosom  of  eternity,  namely,  that  God 
wills  not  the  death  of  a  sinner,  but  rather  that  he 
should  be  converted  and  live.  As  a  witness  of  this 
secret,  Oh  !  man,  thou  hast  the  justifying  Spirit  bear 
ing  witness  herein  with  thy  spirit  that  thou  thyself 
also  art  the  son  of  God.  Acknowledge  the  counsel 
of  God  in  thy  justification  ;  confess  it  and  say,  Thy 
testimonies  are  my  delight  and  my  counsellors  (Ps.  cxix. 
24).  For  thy  present  justification  is  the  revelation 
of  the  Divine  counsel,  and  a  preparation  for  future 
glory.  Or  rather,  perhaps,  predestination  itself  is 
the  preparation  for  it,  and  justification  is  more  the 
gradual  drawing  near  unto  it.  Indeed,  it  is  said, 
Repent  ye,  for  the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  at  hand  (S.  Matt, 
iii.  2).  And  hear  also  of  predestination  that  it  is  the 
preparation  :  Come,  inherit,  He  says,  the  kingdom  pre 
pared  for  you  from  the  foundation  of  the  world  (S.  Matt, 
xxv.  34). 

8.  Let  none,  therefore,  doubt  that  he  is  loved  who 
already  loves.  The  love  of  God  freely  follows  our 
love  which  it  preceded.  For  how  can  He  grow 
weary  of  returning  their  love  to  those  whom  He 
loved  even  while  they  yet  loved  Him  not?  He  loved 
them,  I  say  ;  yes,  He  loved.  For  as  a  pledge  of 
His  love  thou  hast  the  Spirit  ;  thou  has  also  Jesus, 
the  faithful  witness,  and  Him  crucified.  Oh  !  double 


156  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

proof,  and  that  most  sure,  of  God's  love  towards 
us.  Christ  dies,  and  deserves  to  be  loved  by  us. 
The  Spirit  works,  and  makes  Him  to  be  loved.  The 
One  shows  the  reason  why  He  is  loved  :  the  Other 
how  He  is  to  be  loved.  The  One  commends  His 
own  great  love  to  us  ;  the  Other  makes  it  ours.  In 
the  One  we  see  the  object  of  love  ;  from  the  Other 
we  draw  the  power  to  love.  With  the  One,  therefore, 
is  the  cause  ;  with  the  Other  the  gift  of  charity.  What 
shame  to  watch,  with  thankless  eyes,  the  Son  of  God 
dying — and  yet  this  may  easily  happen,  if  the  Spirit 
be  not  with  us.  But  now,  since  The  love  of  God  is 
shed  abroad  in  our  hearts  by  the  Holy  Ghost  which  is  given 
unto  us  (Rom.  v.  5),  having  been  loved  we  love  ;  and 
as  we  love,  we  deserve  to  be  loved  yet  more.  For  if, 
says  the  Apostle,  while  we  were  yet  enemies,  we  have  been 
reconciled  to  God  through  the  death  of  His  Son ;  much  more, 
being  reconciled,  shall  we  be  saved  through  His  life  (Rom. 
viii.  32).  For  He  that  spared  not  His  own  Son,  but  de 
livered  Him  up  for  us  all,  how  shall  He  not  with  Him  also 
freely  give  us  all  things  ? 

9.  Since,  then,  the  token  of  our  salvation  is  two 
fold,  namely,  a  twofold  outpouring,  of  the  Blood  and 
of  the  Spirit,  neither  can  profit  without  the  other. 
For  the  Spirit  is  not  given  except  to  such  as  believe 
in  the  Crucified  ;  and  faith  avails  not  unless  it  works 
by  love.  But  love  is  the  gift  of  the  Spirit.  If  the 
second  Adam  (I  speak  of  Christ)  not  only  became  a 
living  soul,  but  also  a  quickening  spirit,  dying  as 
being  the  one,  and  raising  the  dead  as  being  the 
other,  how  can  that  which  dies  in  Him  profit  me, 
apart  from  that  which  quickens  ?  Indeed,  He  Him 
self  says  :  //  is  the  spirit  that  quickeneth,  the  flesh  profiteth 


LETTER    XL  157 

nothing  (S.  John  vi.  63).  Now,  what  does  "  quick- 
eneth  "  mean  except  "  justifieth  "  ?  For  as  sin  is  the 
death  of  the  soul  (The  soul  that  sinneth  it  shall  die, 
Ezek.  xviii.  4),  without  doubt  righteousness  is  its 
life  ;  for  The  just  shall  live  by  faith  (Rom.  i.  17).  Who, 
then,  is  righteous,  except  he  who  returns  to  God, 
who  loves  him,  His  meed  of  love  ?  And  this  never 
happens  unless  the  Spirit  by  faith  reveal  to  the  man 
the  eternal  purpose  of  God  concerning  his  future 
salvation.  Such  a  revelation  is  simply  the  infusion 
of  spiritual  grace,  by  which,  with  the  mortification  of 
the  deeds  of  the  flesh,  man  is  made  ready  for  the 
kingdom  which  flesh  and  blood  cannot  inherit.  And 
he  receives  by  one  and  the  same  Spirit  both  the 
reason  for  thinking  that  he  is  loved  and  the  power 
of  returning  love,  lest  the  love  of  God  for  us  should 
be  left  without  return. 

10.  This,  then,  is  that  holy  and  secret  counsel 
which  the  Son  has  received  from  the  Father  by  the 
Holy  Spirit.  This  by  the  same  Spirit  He  imparts 
to  His  own  whom  He  knows,  in  their  justification, 
and  by  the  imparting  He  justifies.  Thus  in  his 
justification  each  of  the  faithful  receives  the  power  to 
begin  to  know  himself  even  as  he  is  known  :  when, 
for  instance,  there  is  given  to  him  some  foretaste  of 
his  own  future  happiness,  as  he  sees  how  it  lay  hid 
from  eternity  in  God,  who  foreordains  it,  but  will 
appear  more  fully  in  God,  who  is  effecting  it.  But 
concerning  the  knowledge  that  he  has  now,  for  his 
part,  attained,  let  a  man  glory  at  present  in  the  hope, 
not  in  the  secure  possession  of  it.  How  must  we 
pity  those  who  possess  as  yet  no  token  of  their  own 
calling  to  this  glad  assembly  of  the  righteous.  Lord, 


158  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

who  hath  believed  our  report?  (Is.  liii.  i).  Oh!  that 
they  would  be  wise  and  understand.  But  except 
they  believe  they  shall  not  understand. 

1 1.  But  you,  too,  ye  unhappy  and  heedless  lovers 
of  the  world,  have  your  purpose  far  from  that  of  the 
just.     Scale  sticks  close  to  scale,  and  there  is  no  air 
hole  between  you.     You,  too,  oh  !  sons  of  impiety, 
have  your  purpose  communicated  one  to  another,  but 
openly  against  the  Lord  and  against  His  Christ  (Ps.  ii.  2). 
For  if,  as  the  Scripture  says,  The  fear  of  God,  that  is 
piety  (Job  xxviii.  28),*  of  course  any  one  who  loves  the 
world  more  than  God  is  convicted   of  impiety  and 
idolatry,   of    worshipping   and   serving   the    creature 
rather  than  the  Creator.      But  if,  as  has  been  said, 
the  holy  and  impious  have  each  their  purpose  kept 
for  themselves,  doubtless  there  is  a  great  gulf  fixed 
between  the  two.     For  as  the  just  keeps  himself  aloof 

from  the  purpose  and  council  of  evil  men  (cf.  Ps.  i.  6),  so 
the  impious  never  rise  in  the  judgment,  nor  sinners 
in  the  purpose  2  for  the  just.  For  there  is  a  purpose 
for  the  just,  a  gracious  rain  which  God  hath  set  apart 
for  His  heritage.  There  is  a  purpose  really  secret, 
descending  like  rain  into  a  fleece  of  wool — a  sealed 
fount  whereof  no  stranger  may  partake — a  Sun  of 
Righteousness  rising  only  for  such  as  fear  God. 

12.  Moreover,  the  prophet,    noting  that   the   rest 
remain  in   their   own   dryness    and   darkness,    being 
ignorant    of  the  rain  and   of   the   light   of  the  just, 
mocks  and  brands  their  unfruitful  gloom  and  con- 

1  The  Ixx.  has  I5oi)  Oeofftpeia  tcrrl  <ro<t>la.     The  VULGATE  reads  "  Ecce 
timor  Domini  ipsa  est  sapientia,"  with  which  the  A.  V.  coincides,  "  Behold 
the  fear  of  the  Lord,  that  is  wisdom."    Does  Bernard  quote  from  memory? 

2  This  must  be  the  reading,  not  "congregation"  [concilia],  as  in  Ps.  i., 
for  the  sense  demands  "purpose"  \consilio\,  and  the  MSS.  so  read. 


LETTER    XL  159 

fused  perversity.  This  is  a  nation,  he  says,  that  obeyeth 
not  the  voice  of  the  Lord  their  God  (Jer.  vii.  28).  You 
are  not  ready,  oh  !  miserable  men,  to  say  with  David, 
/  will  hearken  what  the  Lord  God  will  say  with  regard  to 
me  (Ps.  Ixxxv.  8),  for  being  exhausted  abroad  upon 
[the  quest  of]  vanity  and  false  folly,  you  seek  not  for 
the  deepest  and  best  hearing  of  the  truth.  Oh  /  ye 
sons  of  men,  how  long  will  ye  blaspheme  mine  honour,  and 
have  such  pleasure  in  vanity  and  seek  after  leasing  (Ps. 
iv.  2).  You  are  deaf  to  the  voice  of  truth,  and  you 
know  not  the  purpose  of  Him  who  thinks  thoughts 
of  peace,  who  also  speaks  peace  to  His  people,  and 
to  His  saints,  and  to  such  as  are  converted  in  heart. 
Now,  he  says,  ye  are  clean  through  the  word  ivhich  I  have 
spoken  to  you  (S.  John  xv.  3).  Therefore,  they  who 
hear  not  this  word  are  unclean. 

13.  But  do  you,  dearly  beloved,  if  you  are  making 
ready  your  inward  ear  for  this  Voice  of  God  that  is 
sweeter  than  honey  and  the  honey-comb,  flee  from 
outward  cares,  that  with  your  inmost  heart  clear  and 
free  you  also  may  say  with  Samuel,  Speak,  Lord,  for 
thy  servant  heareth  (i  Sam.  iii.  9).  This  Voice  sounds 
not  in  the  market-place,  and  is  not  heard  in  public. 
It  is  a  secret  purpose,  and  seeks  to  be  heard  in  secret. 
It  will  of  a  surety  give  you  joy  and  gladness  in  hear 
ing  it,  if  you  listen  with  attentive  ear.  Once  it  ordered 
Abraham  (Gen.  xii.  i)  to  get  him  out  of  his  country 
and  from  his  kindred,  that  he  might  see  and  possess 
the  land  of  the  living.  Jacob  (Gen.  xxxii.  10)  left  his 
brother  and  his  home,  and  passed  over  Jordan  with 
his  staff,  and  was  received  in  Rachel's  embrace  (Gen. 
xxix.  n).  Joseph  was  lord  in  Egypt  (Gen.  xxxvii. 
and  xli.),  having  been  torn  by  a  fraudful  purchase 


160  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

from  his  father  and  his  home.  Thus  the  Church  is 
bidden,  in  order  that  the  King  may  have  pleasure  in 
her  beauty,  to  forget  her  own  people  and  her  father's 
house  (Ps.  xlv.  u,  12).  The  boy  Jesus  was  sought 
by  His  parents  among  their  kinsfolk  and  acquaintance, 
and  was  not  found  (S.  Luke  ii.  44,  45).  Do  you 
also  flee  from  your  brethren,  if  you  wish  to  find  the 
way  of  salvation.  Flee,  I  say,  from  the  midst  of 
Babylon,  flee  from  before  the  sword  of  the  north- 
wind.  A  bare  sustenance  I  am  ready  to  offer  for  the 
help  of  every  one  that  flees.  You  call  me  your  abbot ; 
I  refuse  not  the  title  for  obedience'  sake — obedience, 
I  say,  not  that  I  demand  it,  but  that  I  render  it  in 
service  to  others,  even  as  The  Son  of  Man  came  not  to 
be  ministered  unto,  but  to  minister  and  to  give  His  life  a 
ransom  for  many  (S.  Matt.  xx.  28).  But  if  you  deem 
me  worthy,  receive  as  your  fellow-disciple  him  whom 
you  choose  for  your  master.  For  we  both  have  one 
Master,  Christ.  And  so  let  Him  be  the  end  of  this 
Letter,  who  is  The  end  of  the  law  for  righteousness  to 
even1  one  that  believeth  (Rom.  x.  4). 


LETTER  XLI 

To  THOMAS  OF  ST.  OMER,  AFTER  HE  HAD  BROKEN 
HIS  PROMISE  OF  ADOPTING  A  CHANGE  OF  LIFE. 

He  urges  him  to  leave  his  studies  and  enter  religion,  and  sets 
before  him  the  miserable  end  of  Thomas  of  Beverley. 

To  his  dearly  beloved  son,  THOMAS,  Brother 
BERNARD,  called  Abbot  of  Clairvaux,  that  he  may 
walk  in  the  fear  of  the  Lord. 


LETTER    XLI  161 

i.  You  do  well  in  acknowledging  the  debt  of 
your  promise,  and  in  not  denying  your  guilt  in  de 
ferring  its  performance.  But  I  beg  you  not  to  think 
simply  of  what  you  promised,  but  to  whom  you 
promised  it.  For  I  do  not  claim  for  myself  any  part 
of  that  promise  which  you  made,  in  my  presence, 
indeed,  but  not  to  me.  Do  not  fear  that  I  am  going 
to  reprove  you  on  account  of  that  deceptive  delay  : 
for  I  was  summoned  as  the  witness,  not  as  the  lord 
of  your  vow.1  I  saw  it  and  rejoiced  ;  and  my  prayer 
is  that  my  joy  may  be  full — which  it  will  not  be  until 
your  promise  is  fulfilled.  You  have  fixed  a  time 
which  you  ought  not  to  have  transgressed.  You 
have  transgressed  it.  What  is  that  to  me  ?  To  your 
own  lord  you  shall  stand  or  fall.  I  have  determined, 
because  the  danger  is  so  imminent,  to  deal  with  you 
neither  by  reproofs  nor  threats,  but  only  by  advice — 
and  that  only  so  far  as  you  take  it  kindly.  If  you 
shall  hear  me,  well.  If  not,  I  judge  no  man  ;  there 
is  One  who  seeketh  and  judgeth  ;  for  He  who  judgeth 
us  t's  the  Lord  (i  Cor.  iv.  4).  And  I  think  for  this 
cause  you  ought  to  fear  and  grieve  the  more,  inasmuch 
as  you  have  not  lied  unto  men,  but  unto  God.  And 
though,  as  you  wish,  I  spare  your  shame  before  men, 
is  that  shamelessness  to  go  unpunished  before  God  ? 
For  what  reason,  pray,  is  there  in  feeling  shame 
before  the  judgment  of  man  and  not  fearing  the  face 
of  God  ?  For  the  face  of  the  Lord  is  against  them  that 
do  evil  (Ps.  xxxiv.  16).  Do  you,  then,  fear  reproaches 

1  Bernard  regards  as  a  vow  that  kind  of  promise  by  which  a  man  had 
determined  in  his  presence  to  enter  the  religious  state.  See  Letter  395, 
and  Sermons  on  Canticles,  63,  n.  6,  in  which  he  mourns  the  lapse  and  fall 
of  novices. 

I. 


1 62  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

more  than  torments  ;  and  do  you,  who  tremble  at  the 
tongue  of  flesh,  despise  the  sword  which  devours  the 
flesh  ?  Are  these  the  fine  moral  principles  with  which, 
as  you  write,  you  are  being  stored  in  the  acquisition 
of  knowledge,  the  ardour  and  love  for  which  so  heats 
and  excites  you  that  you  do  not  fear  to  slight  your 
sacred  vow  ? 

2.  But,  I  pray  you,  what  proof  of  virtue  is  it,  what 
instance  of  self-control,  what  advance  in  knowledge, 
or  artistic  skill,  to  tremble  with  fear  where  no  fear  is 
needful,  and  to  lay  aside  even  the  fear  of  the  Lord. 
How  much  more  wholesome  the  knowledge  of  Jesus 
and  Him  crucified — a  knowledge,  of  course,  not  easy 
to  acquire  except  for  Him  who  is  crucified  to  the  world. 
You  are  mistaken,  my  son,  quite  mistaken,  if  you 
think  that  you  can  learn  in  the  school  of  the  teachers 
of  this  world  that  knowledge  which  only  the  disciples 
of  Christ,  that  is,  such  as  despise  the  world,  attain  ; 
and  that  by  the  gift  of  God.  This  knowledge  is 
taught,  not  by  the  reading  of  books,  but  by  grace  ; 
not  by  the  letter,  but  by  the  spirit ;  not  by  learning, 
but  by  the  practice  of  the  commandments  of  God  : 
Sow,  says  the  Prophet,  to  yourselves  in  righteousness, 
reap  the  hope  of  life,  kindle  for  yourselves  the  light  of 
knowledge  (cf.  Hos.  x.  12).  You  see  that  the  light  of 
knowledge  cannot  be  duly  attained,  except  the  seed  of 
righteousness  [first]  enter  the  soul,  so  that  from  it  may 
grow  the  grain  of  life,  and  not  the  mere  husk  of  vain 
glory.  What  then  ?  You  have  not  yet  sown  to 
yourself  in  righteousness,  and  therefore  you  have  not 
yet  reaped  the  sheaves  of  hope  ;  and  do  you  pretend 
that  you  are  acquiring  the  true  knowledge  ?  Per 
chance  for  the  true  there  is  being  substituted  that  which 


LETTER    XLI  163 

puffeth  up.  You  err  foolishly,  Spending  thy  money  for 
that  which  is  not  bread,  and  thy  labour  for  that  which 
satisfieth  not  (Is.  Iv.  2).  I  entreat  you,  return  to  the 
former  wish  of  your  heart,  and  realize  that  this  year 
of  delay  which  you  have  allowed  to  yourself  has  been 
a  wrong  to  God  ;  is  not  a  year  pleasing  to  the  Lord, 
but  a  seedplot  of  discord,  an  incentive  to  wrath,  a 
food  of  apostasy,  such  as  must  quench  the  Spirit,  shut 
off  grace,  and  produce  that  lukewarmness  which  is 
wont  to  provoke  God  to  spue  men  out  of  His  mouth 
(cf.  Rev.  iii.  16). 

3.  Alas  !  I  think  that,  as  you  are  called  by  the  same 
name,  so  you  walk  in  the  same  spirit  as  that  other 
Thomas,  once,  I  mean,  Provost  of  Beverley.  For 
after  devoting  himself,  like  you,  to  our  Order  and 
House  with  all  his  heart,  he  began  to  beg  for  delay, 
and  then  by  degrees  to  grow  cold,  until  he  openly 
ended  by  being  a  Secular,  an  apostate,  and,  twofold 
more,  a  child  of  hell,  and  was  cut  off  prematurely  by 
a  sudden  and  terrible  death  (S.  Matt,  xxiii.  15) — a 
fate  which,  if  it  may  be,  let  the  pitiful  and  clement 
Lord  avert.  The  letter l  which  I  wrote  to  him  in  vain 
still  survives.  I  simply  freed  my  own  mind,  by 
warning  him,  so  far  as  I  could,  how  it  must  soon  end. 
How  happy  would  he  have  been  if  he  had  taken  my 
advice  !  He  cloked  his  sin.  I  am  clean  from  his 
blood.  But  that  is  not  enough  for  me.  For  though 
in  so  acting  I  am  quite  at  ease  on  my  own  account, 
yet  that  charity  which  seeketh  not  her  own  (i  Cor.  xiii. 
5)  urges  me  to  mourn  for  him  who  died  not  in  safety, 
because  he  lived  so  carelessly.  Oh  !  the  great  depth 
of  the  judgments  of  God  !  Oh  !  my  God,  terrible  in 

1  No.  107. 


164  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

Thy  counsels  over  the  sons  of  men  !  He  bestowed 
the  Spirit,  whom  he  was  soon  again  to  withdraw,  so 
that  a  man  sinned  a  sin  beyond  measure,  and  grace 
found  entrance  that  sin  might  abound  ;  though  this 
was  the  fault,  not  of  the  Giver,  but  of  him  who  added 
the  transgression.  For  it  was  the  act  of  the  man's 
own  freewill  (whereby,  using  badly  his  freedom,  he 
had  the  power  to  grieve  the  free  Spirit)  to  despise  the 
grace  instead  of  bringing  to  good  effect  the  inspira 
tion  of  God,  so  as  to  be  able  to  say :  His  grace  which 
ivas  bestowed  on  me  was  not  in  vain  (i  Cor.  xv.  10). 

4.  If  you  are  wise,  you  will  let  his  folly  profit  you 
as  a  warning ;  you  will  wash  your  hands  in  the 
blood  of  the  sinner,  and  take  care  to  release  your 
self  at  once  from  the  snare  of  perdition,  and  me 
from  horrible  fear  on  your  account.  For,  I  confess, 
I  feel  your  erring  steps  as  the  rending  of  my  heart, 
because  you  have  become  very  dear  to  me,  and  I 
feel  a  father's  affection  for  you.  Therefore,  at  every 
remembrance  of  you  that  sword  of  fear  pierces 
through  my  heart  the  more  sharply,  as  I  consider 
that  you  have  too  little  fear  and  uneasiness.  I  know 
where  I  have  read  of  such  :  For  when  they  shall  say 
peace  and  safety,  then  sudden  destruction  cometh  upon  them, 
as  travail  upon  a  woman  with  child,  and  they  shall  not 
escape  (i  Thess.v.  3).  Yea,  I  foresee  that  many  fear 
ful  consequences  threaten  you  if  you  still  delay  to 
be  wise.  For  I  have  had  much  experience ;  and 
Oh  !  that  you  would  share  and  profit  by  it.  So  be 
lieve  one  who  has  had  experience  ;  believe  one  who 
loves  you.  For  if  you  know  for  the  one  reason 
that  I  am  not  deceived,  for  the  other  you  know  also 
that  I  am  not  capable  of  deceiving  you. 


LETTER    XLII  165 

LETTER  XLII 

To  THE  ILLUSTRIOUS  YOUTH,  GEOFFREY  DE 
PERRONE,  AND  HIS  COMRADES. 

He  pronounces  the  youths  noble  because  they  purpose  to  lead  the 
religious  life,  and  exhorts  them  to  perseverance. 

To  his  beloved  sons,  GEOFFREY  and  his  com 
panions,  BERNARD,  called  Abbot  of  Clairvaux,  wishes 
the  spirit  of  counsel  and  strength. 

i.  The  news  of  your  conversion  that  has  got 
abroad  is  edifying  many,  nay,  is  making  glad  the 
whole  Church  of  God,  so  that  The  heavens  rejoice  and 
the  earth  is  glad  (Ps.  xcvi.  n),  and  every  tongue 
glorifies  God.  The  earth  shook  and  the  heavens  dropped 
at  the  presence  of  the  God  of  Sinai  (cf.  Ps.  Ixviii.  8,  9), 
raining  on  those  days  more  abundantly  than  usual 
a  gracious  rain  which  God  keeps  for  His  inheritance 
(Ps.  Ixvii.  9,  10,  VULG.).  Never  more  will  the  cross 
of  Christ  appear  void  of  effect  in  you,  as  in  many 
sons  of  disobedience,  who,  delaying  from  day  to  day 
to  turn  to  God,  are  seized  by  sudden  death,  and  go 
down  straightway  to  hell.  We  see  flourish  again 
under  our  eyes  the  wood  whereon  the  Lord  of  Glory 
hung,  who  died  not  for  His  own  nation  only,  But  also 
that  He  should  gather  together  in  one  the  children  of  God 
that  were  scattered  abroad  (S.  John  xi.  52).  He,  yes, 
He  Himself  draws  you,  who  loves  you  as  His  own 
flesh,  as  the  most  precious  fruit  of  His  cross,  as  the 
most  worthy  recompense  of  the  blood  he  shed.  If, 
then,  the  Angels  Rejoice  over  one  sinner  that  repenteth  (S. 
Luke  xv.  10),  how  great  must  be  their  joy  over  so 


1 66  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

many,  and  those,  too,  sinners.  The  more  illustrious 
they  seemed  for  rank,  for  learning,  for  birth,  for 
youth,  the  wider  was  their  influence  as  examples  of 
perdition.  I  had  read,  Not  many  nob/e,  not  many  wise, 
not  many  mighty  hath  God  chosen  (i  Cor.  i.  26,  27). 
But  to-day,  through  a  miracle  of  Divine  power,  a 
multitude  of  such  is  converted.  They  hold  present 
glory  cheap,  they  spurn  the  charm  of  youth,  they 
take  no  account  of  high  birth,  they  regard  the  wis 
dom  of  the  world  as  foolishness,  they  rest  not  in 
flesh  and  blood,  they  renounce  the  love  of  parents 
and  friends,  they  reckon  favours  and  honours  and 
dignities  as  dung  that  they  may  gain  Christ.  I  should 
praise  you  if  I  knew  that  this,  your  lot,  were  your 
own  doing.  But  it  is  the  finger  of  God,  clearly  a 
change  due  to  the  right  hand  of  the  Most  High  (cf. 
Ps.  Ixxvii.  10,  VULG.,  Ixxvi.  n).  Your  conversion  is 
a  good  gift  and  a  perfect  gift,  without  doubt  descend 
ing  from  the  Father  of  lights  (S.  James  i.  17).  And 
so  to  Him  we  rightly  bring  every  voice  of  praise  who 
only  doeth  marvellous  things,  who  hath  caused  that 
plenteous  redemption  that  is  in  Him  to  be  no  longer 
without  effect  in  you. 

2.  What,  then,  dearly  beloved,  remains  for  you  to 
do,  except  to  make  sure  that  your  praiseworthy  pur 
pose  attain  the  end  it  deserves  ?  Strive,  therefore, 
for  perseverance,  the  only  virtue  that  receives  the 
crown.  Let  there  not  be  found  among  you  Yea  and 
Nay  (2  Cor.  i.  18,  sq.),  that  ye  may  be  the  sons  of 
your  Father  which  is  in  Heaven,  with  whom,  you 
know,  there  is  no  variableness,  neither  shadow  of  turning 
(S.  James  i.  17).  You  also,  brethren,  are  changed 
into  the  same  image  from  glory  to  glory,  even  as  by  the 


LETTER    XLII  167 

Spirit  of  the  Lord  (2  Cor.  iii.  18).  Take  heed  with  all 
watchfulness  not  to  be  yourselves  found  light,  incon 
stant,  or  wavering.  For  it  is  written,  A  double-minded 
man  is  unstable  in  all  his  ways  (S.  James  i.  8),  and  again, 
Woe  be  ...  to  the  sinner  that  goeth  two  ways  (Ecclus. 
ii.  12).  And  for  myself,  dearly  beloved,  I  congratu 
late  you,  and  myself  not  less,  for,  as  I  hear,  I  have 
been  reckoned  worthy  of  being  chosen  to  have  a  part 
in  this,  your  good  purpose.  I  both  give  you  my 
counsel  and  promise  my  help.  If  I  am  thought 
necessary,  or,  rather,  if  I  be  deemed  worthy,  I  do 
not  decline  the  task,  and  so  far  as  in  me  lies  will  not 
fail  you.  With  eager  devotion  I  submit  my  shoulders 
to  this  burden,1  old  though  they  be,  since  it  is  laid 
on  me  from  heaven.  With  a  glad  heart  and  open 
arms,  as  they  say,  I  welcome  the  fellow-citizens  of 
the  saints  and  servants  of  God.  How  gladly,  accord 
ing  to  the  prophet's  command,  do  I  assist  with  my 
bread  those  that  flee  from  the  face  of  the  sword,  and 
bring  water  to  the  thirsty  (cf.  Is.  xxi.  14).  The  rest  I 
have  left  to  the  lips  of  my,  or  rather  your,  Geoffrey. 
Whatsoever  he  shall  say  to  you  in  my  stead,  that, 
doubt  not,  is  my  counsel. 

1  Hence  it  is  clear  that  Bernard  was  already  approaching  old  age  when 
he  wrote  this  Letter. 


1 68  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

LETTER   XLIII 

A  CONSOLATORY  LETTER  TO  THE  PARENTS  OF 
GEOFFREY. 

There  is  no  reason  to  mourn  a  son  as  lost  who  is  a  religious, 
still  less  to  fear  for  his  delicacy  of  constitution. 

1.  If  God  makes  your  son  His  son  also,  what  do 
you  lose  or  what  does  he  himself  lose  ?     Being  rich 
he  becomes  richer  ;  being  already  high  born,  of  still 
nobler  lineage  ;    being    illustrious,   he   gains    greater 
renown  ;  and — what  is  more  than  all — once  a  sinner 
he  is  now  a  saint.     He   must   be  prepared  for  the 
Kingdom    that    has    been    prepared    for    him    from 
the  beginning  of   the  world  ;  and   for   this  end,  the 
short  time  that  he  has  to  live  he  must  spend  with  us  ; 
until  he  has  scraped  off  the  filth  of  the  worldly  life, 
and  wiped  away  the  earthly  dust,  and  at  last  is  fit 
for   the  heavenly   mansion.     If  you    love  your  son, 
of  course  you  will  rejoice,  because  he  goes  to   His 
Father  and  to  such  a  Father  as  He.     Yea,  he  goes  to 
God.     But  you  lose  him  not  :  nay,  rather  through 
him  you  gain  many  sons.      For  all  of  us  who  are  in 
or  of  Clairvaux,  acknowledge  him  as  a  brother  and 
you  as  parents. 

2.  But  perchance  you  fear  the  effect  of  a  severe 
life  upon  his  body,  which  you  know  to  be  frail  and 
delicate.     But  of  such  fear  it  is  said,  "  There  were  they 
brought  in  great  fear  where  no  fear  was"  (Ps.  xiv.  9). 
Reassure  yourselves,  and  be  comforted.     I  will  be  to 
him  a  father,  and  he  shall  be  to  me  a  son,  until  the 
Father  of  mercies  and  the  God  of  all  consolation  (cf.  Rom. 


LETTER    XLIV  169 

xv.  5)  receive  him  from  my  hands.  So  do  not 
mourn  ;  do  not  weep.  For  your  Geoffrey  is  hasten 
ing  to  joy  and  not  to  grief.  I  will  be  to  him  father, 
mother,  brother,  and  sister.  I  will  make  the  crooked 
straight  for  him  and  the  rough  way  smooth  (cf.  S.  Luke 
iii.  5).  I  will  so  order  and  arrange  everything  for 
him  that  his  soul  shall  profit  and  his  body  not  suffer 
loss.  Moreover,  he  shall  serve  the  Lord  in  joy  and 
gladness,  and  shall  sing  in  the  ways  of  the  Lord  that  great 
is  the  glory  of  the  Lord  (Ps.  cxxxviii.  5). 


LETTER  XLIV 

CONCERNING  THE  MACCABEES  BUT  TO  WHOM 
WRITTEN  is  UNKNOWN.1 

He  replies  to  the  question  why  the  Church  has  decreed  a  festival  to 
the  Maccabees  alone  of  all  the  righteous  under  the  ancient  law. 

i.  Fulk,  Abbot  of  Epernay,  had  already  written 
to  ask  me  the  same  question  as  your  charity  has 
addressed  to  your  humble  servant  by  Brother  Hescelin. 
I  have  put  off  replying  to  him,  being  desirous  to 
find,  if  possible,  some  statement  in  the  Fathers 
about  this  which  was  asked,  which  I  might  send  to 
him,  rather  than  to  reply  by  some  new  opinion  of 
my  own.  But  as  I  do  not  come  upon  one,  in  the 
meantime  I  reply  to  each  of  you  with  my  thoughts 
upon  the  matter,  on  condition  that  if  you  discover 
anything  better  and  more  probable  in  your  reading, 
conversation,  or  by  your  meditations,  you  will  not 

1  Such  is  the  title  in  almost  all  the  MSS.  But  in  one  at  Citcaux  the 
Letter  is  inscribed  To  Bruno  of  Cologne,  as  is  believed,  on  the  martyrdom 
of  the  Maccabees.  In  an  old  edition  //  is  thought  to  have  been  written  to 
Hugo  of  S.  Victor. 


i  yo  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

omit  to  share  it  with  me  in  turn.  You  ask,  then, 
why  it  seemed  good  to  the  Fathers  to  decree  that  an 
annual  commemoration,  with  veneration  equal  to  our 
martyrs,  should  be  solemnly  made  in  the  Church,  by 
a  certain  peculiar  privilege,  to  the  Maccabees  alone 
out  of  all  the  ancient  saints  ?  If  I  should  say  that 
having  made  proof  of  the  same  courage  as  those, 
they  were  worthy  now  of  the  same  honours,  that 
would,  perhaps,  answer  the  question  why  they  were 
included,  but  not  why  they  alone  were  ;  while  it  is 
quite  evident  that  there  were  others  amongst  the 
ancients  who  suffered  with  equal  zeal  for  righteous 
ness,  but  yet  have  not  attained  to  be  reverenced  with 
equal  solemnities.  If  I  reply  that  the  latter  have 
not  received  the  same  honours  as  our  martyrs  be 
cause,  although  their  valour  deserved  it,  the  time 
when  they  lived  deprived  them  of  it,  why  was  not 
the  same  consideration  applied  also  to  the  Maccabees, 
if,  indeed,  they,  too,  on  account  of  the  era  when  they 
lived,  did  not  at  once  enter  into  the  light  of  Heaven, 
but  descended  into  the  darkness  of  Hades  ?  For 
the  Firstbegotten  from  the  dead,  He  who  opened 
to  believers  the  kingdom  of  Heaven,  the  Lamb  of 
the  tribe  of  Judah,  who  opens  and  no  more  shuts,  at 
Whose  entrance  with  complete  authority  it  was  sung 
by  the  heavenly  powers  :  Lift  up  your  heads,  O  ye 
gates,  and  be  ye  lift  up  ye  everlasting  doors,  and  the  King 
of  Glory  shall  come  in  (Ps.  xxiv.  7), — He  had  not  yet 
appeared.  If  on  that  account  it  appears  unsuitable 
to  commemorate  with  joy  the  passing  away  of  those 
which  was  not  a  passage  of  glory  and  of  joy,  why 
was  there  an  exception  made  for  the  Maccabees  ?  Or 
if  they  obtained  favour  on  account  of  the  courage 


LETTER    XLIV  171 

which  they  displayed,  why  was  not  the  same  favour 
extended  to  those  others  ?  Or  ought  it  to  be  said, 
in  order  to  explain  this  difference,  that  if  the  martyrs 
of  the  ancient  law,  as  well  as  those  of  the  new  law, 
have  suffered  for  the  same  cause  of  religion,  yet  they 
did  not  suffer  in  the  same  condition  with  those  who 
have  attained  to  the  glory  of  martyrdom  ?  It  is  agreed 
that  all  the  martyrs,  whether  of  the  Old  or  the  New 
Testament,  equally  suffered  for  the  sake  of  religion  ; 
but  there  is  a  distinction,  because  the  one  class 
suffered  because  they  held  it,  the  other  because  they 
censured  those  who  held  it  not  ;  the  one  because 
they  would  not  desert  it,  the  other  because  they 
declared  that  those  would  perish  who  deserted  it, 
and  to  sum  up  in  a  word,  that  in  which  the  two 
differ,  perseverance  in  the  faith  has  done  in  our 
martyrs  that  which  zeal  for  the  faith  has  done  in 
those  of  the  ancient  law.  The  Maccabees  are  alone 
among  the  ancient  martyrs,  because  they  possessed 
not  only  the  same  cause  as  the  new  martyrdom,  but 
also,  as  I  have  said,  the  form  of  it  ;  and  rightly, 
therefore,  they  have  attained  the  same  glory  and 
fame  as  the  new  martyrs  of  the  Church.  For  like 
our  martyrs,  they  were  urged  to  pour  libations  to 
false  gods,  to  renounce  the  law  of  their  fathers,  and 
even  to  transgress  the  commandments  of  God,  and 
like  them  they  resisted  and  died. 

2.  Not  so  did  Isaiah  or  Zecharias,  or  even  that 
great  prophet,  John  the  Baptist,  die  ;  of  whom  the 
first  is  said  to  have  been  sawn  asunder,  the  second 
slain  between  the  temple  and  the  altar  (S.  Matt,  xxiii. 
25),  and  the  third  beheaded  in  prison.  If  you  ask 
by  whom  ?  It  was  by  the  wicked  and  irreligious. 


172  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

For  what  cause  ?  For  justice  and  religion.  In 
what  manner  ?  For  confessing  and  openly  upholding 
these.  They  openly  upheld  the  truth  before  those 
who  hated  it,  and  thus  drew  upon  themselves  the 
hatred  which  caused  their  death.  That  which  the 
unrighteous  and  wicked  persecuted  was  not  so  much 
religion  in  itself  as  those  who  brought  it  before 
them,  nor  was  their  object  to  attack  the  righteousness 
of  others,  but  to  remain  undisturbed  in  their  own 
unrighteousness.  It  is  one  thing  to  seize  upon  the 
good  things  of  another,  and  another  to  defend  one's 
own  goods  ;  to  persecute  the  truth,  and  not  to  be 
willing  to  follow  it  one's  self  ;  to  grudge  at  believers, 
and  to  be  angry  at  their  reproofs  ;  to  stop  the  mouth 
of  those  who  confess  their  faith,  and  not  to  be  able 
to  bear  patiently  the  taunts  of  those  who  contradict. 
Thus  Herod  sent  and  seized  John.  Wherefore ! 
Because  he  preached  Christ,  or  because  he  was  a 
good  and  just  man  ?  On  the  contrary,  he  reverenced 
him  the  more  on  this  account,  and  having  heard  him, 
did  many  tilings.  But  it  was  because  John  reproached 
Herod  because  of  Herodias,  his  brother  Philip's  wife;  on 
that  account  he  was  bound  and  beheaded  ;  no  doubt 
he  suffered  for  the  truth,  but  because  he  urged  its 
interests  with  zeal,  not  because  he  was  urged  to  deny 
it.  This  is  why  the  suffering  of  so  great  a  martyr 
is  observed  with  less  solemnity  than  those  even  of 
far  less  famous  men. 

3.  It  is  certain  that  if  the  Maccabees  had  suffered 
in  such  a  matter,  and  for  such  a  reason  as  S.  John, 
there  would  not  have  been  any  mention  of  them  at 
all.  But  a  confession  of  the  truth,  not  unlike  that  of 
the  Christian  martyrs,  made  them  like  those  ;  and 


LETTER    XLIV  173 

rightly,  therefore,  a  similar  veneration  follows.  Let 
it  not  be  objected  that  they  did  not,  like  our  martyrs, 
suffer  for  Christ  expressly  by  name  ;  because  it  does 
not  affect  his  status  as  a  martyr  whether  a  person 
suffers  under  the  Law,  on  behalf  of  the  observ 
ances  of  the  Law,  or  under  grace  for  the  com 
mandments  of  the  Gospel.  For  it  is  recognized  that 
each  of  these  equally  suffers  for  the  truth,  and,  there 
fore,  for  Christ,  who  said  :  /  am  the  Truth  (S.  John 
xiv.  6).  Therefore  the  Maccabees  are  more  deserv 
ing  of  the  honours  that  have  been  conferred  upon 
them  for  the  kind  of  their  martyrdom  than  for  the 
valour  displayed  in  it,  since  wre  do  not  see  that  the 
Church  has  decreed  such  honour  to  the  righteous 
of  a  former  time,  although  they  have  displayed 
equal  courage  on  behalf  of  righteousness,  for  the 
time  in  which  they  lived.  I  suppose  that  it  was 
thought  unfit  to  appoint  a  day  of  festival  for  a  death, 
however  laudable,  before  the  Death  of  Christ,  especi 
ally  since  before  that  saving  Passion  those  who  died, 
instead  of  entering  into  joy  and  glory  endured  the 
darkness  of  the  prison-house.  The  Church  then,  as 
I  said  above,  considered  that  an  exception  should  be 
made  in  favour  of  the  Maccabees,  since  the  nature  of 
their  martyrdom  conferred  upon  them  what  the  time 
of  their  suffering  denied  to  others. 

4.  Nor  them  only,  but  those  also  who  preceded 
in  their  death,  the  Death  of  Him  who  was  the  Life 
manifest  in  the  flesh,  either  dying  during  His  life,  as 
Simeon  and  John  the  Baptist,  or  for  Him,  as  the 
Innocents,  we  venerate  with  solemn  rites,  although 
they,  too,  descended  into  Hades  ;  but  for  another 
reason.  Thus,  in  the  case  of  the  Innocents,  it  would 


174  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

be  unjust  to  deprive  innocence  dying  on  behalf  of 
righteousness  of  fame  even  in  the  present.  John 
also,  knowing  that  from  his  day  the  kingdom  of 
heaven  suffered  violence,  therefore  proclaimed,  Do 
penitence,  for  the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  at  hand  (S.  Matt, 
iii.  2,  VULG.)  ;  and,  seeing  that  the  Life  would  im 
mediately  follow  him,  endured  death  with  joy.  He, 
before  his  death,  was  careful  to  inquire  from  the 
Lord  Himself  respecting  this,  and  had  the  happiness 
to  be  informed  of  it.  For  when  he  sent  his  disciples 
to  ask  of  Jesus  Art  Thou  He  that  should  come,  or  are  we 
to  look  for  another  ?  he  received  for  answer,  after  the 
enumeration  of  very  many  miracles,  And  blessed  is  he 
who  shall  not  be  offended  in  me  (S.  Matt.  xi.  3-6).  In 
which  answer  the  Lord  intimated  that  He  was  about 
to  die,  and  by  such  a  death  as  might  be  to  the  Jews 
a  stumbling  block  and  to  the  Greeks  foolishness.  At 
this  word  the  friend  of  the  Bridegroom  went  onward 
rejoicing  and  with  a  willing  mind,  because  he  could 
not  doubt  that  the  Bridegroom  also  would  speedily 
come.  Therefore  he  who  so  joyfully  could  die 
merited  also  to  be  held  in  joyful  remembrance.  And 
that  old  man,  too,  as  full  of  virtues  as  of  days,  who 
when  death  was  already  so  near  said,  holding  in  his 
arms  Him  who  was  the  Life,  Now  lettest  Thou  Thy 
servant  depart  in  peace,  for  mine  eyes  have  seen  Thy  salva 
tion  (S.  Luke  ii.  29,  30),  as  if  he  had  said,  /  go  down 
without  fear  into  Hades,  because  I  feel  that  my  re 
demption  is  so  nigh  ;  he,  too,  who  died  with  such 
fearless  joy  and  such  joyful  security  rightly  deserves 
to  be  commemorated  with  joy  in  the  Church. 

5.  But  on  what  principle  shall  a  death  be  accounted 
joyful    which    is    not   accompanied    by   the    joys   of 


LETTER    XLIV  175 

heaven  ?  or  from  whence  should  a  dying  person 
derive  joy  who  was  sure  that  he  was  going  down 
into  the  darkness  of  the  prison-house,  and  yet  did  not 
bear  with  him  any  certitude,  how  soon  the  consola 
tion  of  a  deliverer  thence  should  come  to  him  ? 
Thus  it  was  that  when  one  of  the  saints  heard  Set  thy 
house  in  order,  for  tliou  shaft  die,  and  not  live,  he  turned 
himself  to  the  wall  and  wept  bitterly,  and  so  asked 
and  obtained  some  deferring  of  hateful  death.  Thus 
also  he  lamented  miserably,  saying,  I  shall  go  to  the 
gates  of  the  grave ;  I  am  deprived  of  the  half  of  my 
days  (Is.  xxxviii.  10)  ;  and  a  little  after  added,  /  shall 
not  see  the  Lord  in  the  land  of  the  living :  I  shall  behold 
man  no  more  with  the  inhabitants  of  the  world  (Is. 
xxxviii.  n).  Hence  also  another  says:  Who  shall 
grant  me  that  Thou  wouldest  protect  me  in  the  grave,  that 
Thou  wouldest  keep  me  secret  until  Thy  wrath  be  passed; 
that  Thou  wouldest  appoint  me  a  set  time  and  remember 
me?  (Job  xiv.  13).  Israel  also  said  to  his  sons,  Ye 
will  bring  down  my  grey  hairs  with  sorrow  to  the  grave 
(Gen.  xlii.  38).  What  appearance  is  there  in  these 
deaths,  of  solemn  joy,  of  rejoicing  and  festival  ? 

6.  But  our  martyrs  desire  to  be  unclothed  and  be 
with  Christ,  knowing  well  that  where  the  Body  is 
there  without  delay  will  the  eagles  be  gathered 
together.  There  will  the  righteous  rejoice  in  the 
sight  of  God,  and  be  in  joy  and  felicity.  There, 
there,  O  most  blessed  Jesus,  shall  every  saint  who  is 
delivered  from  this  wicked  world  be  rilled  speedily 
with  the  joy  of  Thy  countenance.  There  in  the 
habitations  of  the  just  resounds  for  ever  one  song  of 
joy  and  salvation  :  Our  soul  is  delivered  as  a  bird  out 
of  the  net  of  the  fowler :  the  net  is  broken  and  we  are 


1 76  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

delivered  (Ps.  cxxiv.  7).  How  could  those  sing  this 
song  of  gladness  who  in  Hades  sat  in  darkness  and 
the  shadow  of  death,  while  as  yet  there  was  no 
Redeemer  for  them,  no  Saviour  ;  while  the  Sun 
rising  from  on  high,  Christ  the  first  fruits  of  them 
that  slept,  had  not  yet  visited  us  ?  Rightly,  then, 
does  the  Church,  who  has  learnt  to  rejoice  with  them 
that  rejoice  and  to  weep  with  them  that  weep,  dis 
tinguish,  because  of  the  time  at  which  they  lived, 
between  those  whom  she  judges  equal  in  valour  :  and 
does  not  think  the  descent  into  Hades  proper  to  be 
followed  with  equal  honour  as  is  the  passage  into  life. 
7.  Therefore,  though  the  motive  makes  martyrdom, 
yet  the  time  and  the  nature  of  it  determine  the  differ 
ence  between  martyrdoms.  Thus  the  time  in  which 
they  lived  separates  the  Maccabees  from  the  martyrs 
of  the  new  law  and  joins  them  with  those  of  the  old ; 
but  the  nature  of  their  martyrdom  associates  them 
with  the  new  and  divides  them  from  the  old.  From 
these  causes  come  the  differences  of  observance  with 
which  they  are  kept  in  memory  in  the  Church.  But 
that  which  is  common  to  the  whole  company  of  the 
Saints  before  God  is  what  the  holy  prophet  declares : 
Precious  in  the  sight  of  the  Lord  is  the  death  of  His  saints 
(Ps.  cxvi.  15).  And  why  he  calls  it  precious  he 
explains  to  us  :  When  He  has  given  sleep  to  His  Moved, 
behold,  children,  the  heritage  of  the  Lord ;  His  reward,  the 
fruit  of  the  womb  (Ps.  cxxvii.  3).  Nor  must  we  think 
that  martyrs  alone  are  beloved,  since  we  remember 
that  it  was  said  of  Lazarus,  Our  friend  Lazarus  sleeps 
(S.John  xi.  11),  and  elsewhere,  Blessed  arc  the  dead  who 
die  in  the  Lord  (Apoc.  xiv.  13).  Not  those  alone  who 
die  for  the  Lord,  like  the  martyrs,  but  without  doubt 


LETTER    XLV  177 

those  also  who  die  in  the  Lord  as  confessors  are 
blessed.  There  are  two  things,  as  it  seems  to  me, 
which  make  death  precious,  the  life  which  precedes 
it  and  the  cause  for  which  it  is  endured  ;  but  more 
the  cause  than  the  life.  But  when  both  the  cause 
and  the  life  concur  that  is  the  most  precious  of  all. 


LETTER  XLV  (circa  A.D.   1120) 

To  A  YOUTH  NAMED  FULK,  WHO  AFTERWARDS 
WAS  ARCHDEACON  OF  LANGRES 

He  gravely  warns  Fulk,  a  Canon  Regular,  whom  an  uncle  had 
by  persuasions  and  promises  drawn  back  to  the  world,  to 
obey  God  and  be  faithful  to  Him  rather  than  to  his  uncle. 

To  the  honourable  young  man  Fulk,  Brother 
Bernard,  a  sinner,  wishes  such  joy  in  youth  as  in 
old  age  he  will  not  regret. 

i.  I  do  not  wonder  at  your  surprise  ;  I  should 
wonder  if  you  were  not  suprised  that  I  should  write 
to  you,  a  countryman  to  a  citizen,  a  monk  to  a 
scholastic,1  there  being  no  apparent  or  pressing 
reason  for  so  doing.  But  if  you  recall  what  is 
written — /  am  debtor  both  to  the  wise  and  to  the  unwise 
(Rom.  i.  14),  and  that  Chanty  seeketh  not  her  own 
(i  Cor.  xiii.  5) — perhaps  you  will  understand  that 
what  it  orders  is  not  mere  presumption.  For  it  is 
Charity  which  compels  me  to  reprove  you  ;  to  con 
dole  with  you,  though  you  do  not  grieve  ;  to  pity 

1  Either  a  canon  holding  a  prebend  of  theology  or  simply  a  student — 
here  probably  the  former.     But  see  n.  7.— [E.] 

M 


178  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

you,  though  you  do  not  think  yourself  pitiable. 
Nor  shall  it  be  unserviceable  to  you  to  hear  patiently 
why  you  are  compassionated.  In  feeling  your  pain 
you  may  get  rid  of  its  cause,  and  knowing  your 
misery  begin  to  cease  to  be  miserable.  O,  Charity, 
good  mother  who  both  nourishest  the  weak,  em- 
ployest  the  vigorous,  and  blamest  the  restless,  using 
various  expedients  with  various  people,  as  loving  all 
her  sons !  She  blames  with  gentleness,  and  with 
simplicity  praises.  It  is  she  who  is  the  mother  of 
men  and  angels,  and  makes  the  peace  not  only  of 
earth  but  of  heaven.  It  is  she  who,  rendering  God 
favourable  to  man,  has  reconciled  man  to  God  ;  she, 
my  Fulk,  makes  those  brethren,  with  whom  you  once 
shared  pleasant  bread,  to  dwell  in  one  manner  of  life 
in  a  house  (Ps.  Ixviii.  6).  Such  and  so  honourable  a 
parent  complains  of  being  injured,  of  being  wounded 
by  you. 

2.  But  in  what  have  I  injured,  you  reply,  or 
wounded  her  ?  In  this,  without  doubt,  that  you 
whom  she  had  taken  in  her  maternal  bosom  and 
nourished  with  her  milk,  have  untimely  withdrawn 
yourself,  and  having  known  the  sweetness  of  the 
milk  which  can  train  you  up  for  salvation,  have  re 
jected  and  disdained  it  so  quickly  and  carelessly.  O, 
most  foolish  boy !  boy  more  in  understanding  than 
in  age  !  who  has  fascinated  you  to  depart  so  quickly 
from  a  course  so  well  begun  ?  My  uncle,  you  will 
say.  So  Adam  once  threw  the  blame  of  sin  upon  his 
wife,  and  his  wife  upon  the  serpent,  to  excuse  them 
selves  ;  yet  each  received  the  well-deserved  sentence  of 
their  own  fault.  I  am  unwilling  to  accuse  the  dean  ;  I 
am  unwilling  that  you  should  excuse  yourself  by  this 


LETTER    XLV  179 

means,  for  you  are  inexcusable.  His  fault  does  not 
excuse  yours.  But  what  did  he  do  ?  Did  he  use 
violence  ?  Did  he  take  you  by  force  ?  Nay,  he 
begged,  not  insisted  ;  attracted  you  by  flatteries,  not 
dragged  you  by  violence.  Who  forced  you  to  yield 
to  his  flatteries  ?  He  had  not  yet  given  up  what  was 
his  own.  What  wonder  that  he  should  reclaim  you, 
who  wast  his  !  If  he  demands  a  lamb  from  the  flock, 
a  calf  from  the  herd,  and  no  one  disputes  his  right, 
who  can  wonder  that  having  lost  you,  who  are  of 
more  value  in  his  sight  than  many  lambs  or  calves, 
he  should  reclaim  you  ?  Probably  he  does  not  aim 
at  that  degree  of  perfection  of  which  it  is  said,  If  any 
one  has  taken  away  thy  goods,  seek  them  not  again  (S. 
Luke  vi.  30).  But  you,  who  had  already  rejected  the 
world,  what  had  you  to  do  with  following  a  man  of 
the  world  ?  The  timid  sheep  flies  when  the  wolf 
approaches  ;  the  gentle  dove  when  she  sees  the 
hawk  ;  the  mouse,  though  hungry,  dares  not  leave 
his  hole  when  the  cat  is  prowling  around  ;  and  yet 
you,  when  thon  sawest  a  thief  thou  consentcdst  with  him 
(Ps.  1.  1 8).  For  what  else  than  a  thief  shall  I  call 
him  who  has  not  hesitated  to  steal  that  most  precious 
pearl  of  Christ,  your  soul  ? 

3.  I  should  wish,  if  it  were  possible,  to  pass  over 
his  fault,  lest  the  truth  should  obtain  for  me  only 
hatred  and  no  result.  But  I  am  not  able,  I  confess, 
to  pass  a  man  untouched,  who  up  to  this  very  day  is 
found  to  have  resisted  the  Holy  Spirit  with  all  his 
power.  For  he  who  does  not  hinder  evil  when  he 
can,  even  although  the  evil  purpose  may  be  frustrated, 
is  not  clear  of  that  purpose.  Assuredly  he  tried  to 
damp  my  fervour  when  it  was  new,  but,  thanks  to 


i8o  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

God,  he  did  not  succeed.  Another  nephew  of  his, 
Guarike,  your  kinsman,  he  much  opposed,  but  what 
harm  did  he  do  ?  On  the  contrary,  he  was  of  service. 
For  the  old  man  at  length  unwillingly  desisted  from 
persecution,  and  as  the  youth,  his  nephew,  remained 
unsubdued,  he  was  the  more  meritorious  for  his  temp 
tation.  But,  alas !  how  was  he  able  to  overcome  you, 
who  was  not  able  to  overcome  him  ?  Was  he  stronger 
or  more  prudent  than  you  ?  Assuredly  those  who 
knew  both  before  preferred  Fulk  to  Guarike.  But 
the  event  of  the  combat  showed  that  men's  judgment 
had  erred. 

4.  But  what  shall  I  say  concerning  the  malice  of 
an  uncle  who  withdraws  his  own  nephews  from  the 
Christian  warfare  to  drag  them  with  himself  to  perdi 
tion  ?  Is  it  thus  he  is  accustomed  to  benefit  his 
friends  ?  Those  whom  Christ  calls  to  abide  with  Him 
for  ever  this  uncle  calls  back  to  burn  with  him  for 
evermore.  I  wonder  if  Christ  is  not  reproving  him 
when  he  says,  Hoiu  often  would  I  have  gathered  thy 
nephews  as  a  hen  gathers  her  chickens  under  her  wings 
and  thott  wouldest  not  ?  Behold  thy  house  is  left  unto  thee 
desolate  (S.  Matt,  xxiii.  37).  Christ  says,  Suffer  the 
little  children  to  come  unto  Me,  for  of  such  is  the 
kingdom  of  heaven  (S.  Matt.  xix.  14).  This  uncle 
says,  Suffer  my  nephews  to  burn  with  me.  Christ 
says,  They  are  Mine  ;  they  ought  to  serve  Me.  But 
their  uncle  says,  They  ought  to  perish  with  me. 
Christ  says,  They  are  mine,  I  have  redeemed  them. 
But  I,  says  the  uncle,  have  brought  them  up.  You, 
indeed,  says  Christ,  have  fed  them,  but  with  My 
bread,  not  thine  ;  while  I  have  redeemed  them  not 
with  thy  blood,  but  Mine  own.  Thus  the  uncle, 


LETTER    XLV  181 

according  to  the  flesh,  struggles  against  the  Father 
of  spirits  for  his  nephews,  whom  he  disinherits  of 
heavenly  possessions  while  he  desires  to  load  them 
with  earthly.  Yet  Christ,  not  considering  it  robbery 
to  draw  to  Himself  those  whom  He  has  made  and 
redeemed  with  His  own  blood,  has  done  when  they 
came  to  Him,  what  He  had  before  promised,  Him 
who  conieth  unto  me,  I  will  in  no  wise  cast  out  (S.  John  vi. 
37).  He  opened  gladly  to  Fulk,  the  first  who  knocked, 
and  made  him  glad  also.  What  more  ?  he  put  off 
the  old  man  and  put  on  the  new,  and  showed  forth 
in  his  character  and  life  the  canonical  function  which 
had  existed  in  name  alone.  The  report  of  it  flies 
abroad,  to  Christ,  a  sweet  savour  ;  and  the  novelty 
of  the  thing  diffused  on  all  sides  brought  it  to  the 
ears  of  his  uncle. 

5.  What  then  did  the  carnal  guardian,  who  lost  the 
carnal  solace  of  the  flesh  which  he  had  brought  up 
and  loved  after  a  carnal  fashion?  Although  to  others 
the  event  was  a  savour  of  life  unto  life  (2  Cor.  ii.  16), 
not  so  to  him.  Wherefore  ?  Because  the  carnal  man 
recciveth  not  the  things  of  the  Spirit  of  God,  for  they  are 
foolishness  unto  him  (i  Cor.  ii.  14).  For  if  he  had  the 
spirit  of  Christ  he  would  not  so  greatly  lament  on 
account  of  the  flesh  that  which  he  rejoiced  over  on 
account  of  the  spirit.  But  because  he  relishes  earthly 
things,  not  those  which  are  above,  he  is  sad  and 
troubled,  and  reflects  thus  within  himself :  What  do 
I  hear  ?  Woe  is  me  !  from  what  hope  have  I  fallen  ! 
Ought  he  to  do  anything  without  my  advice  and 
permission  ?  What  right,  what  law,  what  justice, 
what  reason  is  it,  that  him,  whom  I  have  nourished 
up  from  infancy,  another  person  should  have  the 


182  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

good  of  when  grown  up  ?  Now  that  my  head  is 
white,  alas  !  I  shall  spend  the  remainder  of  my  life  in 
grief,  because  the  staff  of  my  old  age  has  deserted 
me.  Woe  is  me  !  if  this  night  my  soul  is  required  of 
me,  whose  shall  those  things  be  which  I  have  pre 
pared  ?  My  storehouses  are  full,  disgorging  this  one 
into  that,  my  sheep  fruitful,  abounding  in  their  goings 
forth  ;  my  oxen  fat,  and  for  whom  shall  these 
remain  ?  My  lands,  my  meadows,  my  houses,  my 
vases  of  gold  and  of  silver,  for  whom  have  they  been 
amassed  ?  Certain  of  the  richer  and  more  profitable 
honours  of  my  Church  I  had  acquired  for  myself ; 
the  rest,  although  I  could  not  have  them,  I  hoped 
that  Fulk  should.  What  then  shall  I  do  ?  Because 
of  him  shall  I  lose  so  much  ?  For  whatever  I 
possess,  without  him,  I  reckon  as  lost.  Rather  than 
that  I  will  both  retain  them,  and  recall  him  if  I  can. 
What  is  done  cannot  be  undone  ;  what  is  heard  can 
not  be  concealed.  Fulk  is  a  Canon  Regular,  and  if 
he  returns  to  the  world  will  be  remarked  and  dis 
graced.  But  it  is  better  to  hear  that  about  him  than 
to  live  without  him.  Let  integrity  yield  to  conveni 
ence,  shame  to  necessity.  I  prefer  not  to  spare  the 
ingenuousness  of  a  youth,  rather  than  to  undergo 
miserable  melancholy. 

6.  Adopting  then  this  counsel  of  the  flesh,  forgetful 
of  reason  and  law,  as  it  were  a  lion  prepared  for  prey, 
and  as  a  lioness  robbed  of  her  whelp,  raging  and 
roaring,  not  respecting  holy  things,  he  burst  into  the 
dwelling  of  the  saints,  in  which  Christ  had  hidden  his 
young  soldier  from  the  strife  of  tongues,  who  was  one 
day  to  be  adjoined  to  the  company  of  Angels.  He 
demands  that  his  nephew  be  restored  to  him  ;  he 


LETTER    XLV  183 

loudly  complains  that  by  him  he  had  been  wrongly 
deserted  ;  while  Christ  resists,  saying,  Unhappy  man, 
what  are  you  doing  ?  Why  do  you  rob  ?  Why  per 
secute  Me  ?  Is  it  not  enough  that  you  have  taken 
away  your  own  soul  from  Me,  and  the  souls  of  many 
others  by  your  example,  but  you  must  tear  him  also 
from  My  hand  with  impious  daring  ?  Do  you  not 
fear  the  coming  judgment,  or  do  you  despise  My 
terrors  ?  Upon  whom  do  you  wage  war  ?  Upon 
the  terrible  One,  who  takes  away  the  spirit  of 
princes  (Ps.  Ixxvi.  12).  Madman,  return  to  thyself. 
Remember  thy  last  end  and  sin  not,  call  to  mind 
with  salutary  fear  what  you  are.  And  thou,  O  youth, 
He  says,  if  thou  dost  assent  and  agree  to  his  wishes 
thou  shalt  die  the  death.1  Remember  that  Lot's  wife 
was,  indeed,  delivered  from  Sodom  because  she  be 
lieved  God,  but  was  transformed  in  the  way  because 
she  looked  back  (Gen.  xix.  26).  Learn  in  the  Gospel 
that  he  who  has  once  put  his  hand  to  the  plough  to 
him  it  is  not  permitted  to  look  back  (Luke  ix.  62). 
Your  uncle,  who  has  already  lost  his  own  soul,  seeks 
yours.  The  words  of  his  mouth  are  iniquity  and 
guile.  Do  not  learn,  my  son,  to  do  evil  (Ps.  xxxvi. 
4).  Do  not  turn  aside  to  vanities  and  falsehoods 
(Ps.  xl.  4).  Behold  in  the  way  in  which  you  walk 
he  hides  snares — he  has  stretched  nets.  His  dis 
courses  are  smooth  as  butter,  and  yet  they  are  sharp 
spears  (Ps.  Iv.  21).  See,  my  son,  that  you  are  not 

1  Bernard  usually  shows  himself  very  doubtful  of  the  salvation  of  those 
who,  having  been  called  by  God  to  the  religious  state,  had  not  yielded  to 
their  vocation,  and  much  more  of  those  who,  having  entered  it,  though  not 
made  profession,  had  returned  to  the  world.  See  Letters  107  and  108. 
But  Fulk  had  actually  made  profession. 


1 84  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

taken  with  lying  lips  and  a  deceitful  tongue.  Let 
divine  fear  transfix  your  flesh,  that  the  desire  of  the 
flesh  may  not  deceive  you.  It  flatters,  but  under  its 
tongue  is  suffering  and  sorrow  ;  it  weeps,  but  be 
trays  ;  it  betrays  to  catch  the  poor  when  it  has 
attracted  him  (Ps.  x.  9).  Beware,  I  say,  My  son, 
that  you  do  not  confer  with  flesh  and  blood  (Gal.  i. 
16),  for  My  sword  shall  devour  flesh  (Deut.  xxxii.  42). 
Despise  entreaties  and  promises.  He  promises  great 
things,  but  I  greater  ;  he  offers  more,  but  I  most  of 
all.  Will  you  throw  away  heavenly  things  for 
earthly,  eternal  for  temporal  ?  Otherwise  it  behoves 
you  to  dissolve  the  vows  which  your  lips  have  pro 
nounced.  He  is  rightly  required  to  dissolve  who  was 
not  forced  to  vow,  for,  although  I  did  not  repulse 
you  when  you  knocked,  I  did  not  oblige  you  to 
enter.  You  cannot,  therefore,  put  aside  what  you 
promised  of  your  own  accord.  Behold  each  of  you 
I  warn,  and  to  each  give  salutary  counsel.  Do  not 
you,  He  says  to  the  uncle,  draw  back  a  regular  to 
the  world,  for  in  so  doing  you  make  him  to  aposta 
tize.  Do  not  you,  a  regular,  follow  the  secular  life, 
for  in  so  doing  you  persecute  Me.  If  you  seduce  a 
soul  for  which  I  died  you  make  yourself  an  enemy  of 
My  cross.  He  who  does  not  gather  with  Me  scatters 
(S.  Matt.  xii.  30).  How  much  more  he  who  scatters 
what  has  been  gathered  ?  And  you,  if  you  consent 
to  him  you  dissent  from  Me,  for  he  who  is  not  with  Me 
is  against  Me  (ibid.}.  How  much  more  is  he  who  was 
with  Me  against  Me  if  he  deserts  ?  You,  if  you  lead 
astray  a  boy  who  has  come  to  Me,  shall  be  adjudged 
a  seducer  and  profaner,  but  you,  if  you  destroy  what 
you  had  built,  shall  make  yourself  a  deceiver.  Both 


LETTER    XLV  185 

of  you  must  stand  at  My  tribunal  and  by  Me  be 
judged — the  one  for  his  prevarication,  the  other  for 
the  leading  astray  ;  and  if  the  one  shall  die  in  his 
iniquity  his  blood  shall  be  required  at  the  hand  of 
his  seducer  (Ezek.  iii.  18).  These  and  similar  warn 
ings  Thou,  O  Christ,  didst  invisibly  thunder  to  each, 
I  appeal  to  their  conscience  as  witness.  Thou  didst 
knock  at  the  doors  of  the  mind  of  each  with  kindly 
terrors.  Who  would  not  fear  them  and  recover 
wisdom  in  fearing,  unless  it  were  one  like  the  deaf 
adder,  that  stoppeth  her  ear  and  refuseth  to  hear  the  voice 
of  the  charmer,  charm  he  never  so  wisely  (Ps.  Iviii.  4,  5), 
who  either  does  not  hear,  or  pretends  that  he  hears 
not  ? 

7.  But  how  far  do  I  draw  out  this  letter,  already 
too  long,  before  speaking  of  a  thing  that  is  worthy 
only  of  silence  ?  In  what  circuitous  paths  do  I 
approach  the  truth,  fearing  to  draw  the  veil  from 
shame  !  I  say  with  shame.  That  what  is  known  to 
many  I  cannot  conceal  if  I  would.  But  why  with 
shame  ?  Why  should  I  be  ashamed  to  write  what  it 
did  not  shame  them  to  do  ?  If  they  are  ashamed  to 
hear  what  they  shamelessly  did,  let  them  not  be 
ashamed  to  amend  what  they  were  reluctant  to  hear. 
Alas  !  neither  fear  nor  reason  could  keep  back  the 
one  from  seduction,  nor  shame  or  his  profession  the 
other  from  prevarication.  What  more  ?  A  deceitful 
tongue  fits  hasty  words  ;  it  conceiveth  sorrow,  and 
brings  forth  iniquity.  Your  Church  received  its 
scholar,  whom  it  had  better  have  been  without.  So 
formerly  Lyons  recovered,  without  credit,  by  the  zeal 
and  pertinacity  of  its  dean,  its  canon  whom  it  had 
well  lost,  the  nephew  of  the  same  dean.  Just  as  the 


1 86  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

one  snatched  Fulk  from  S.  Augustine,  so  the  other 
Othbert  from  S.  Benedict.  How  much  more  beauti 
ful  that  a  religious  youth  should  draw  to  himself  a 
worldly  old  man,  and  so  each  should  be  victorious, 
than  that  the  worldly  should  draw  back  to  himself 
the  religious,  in  which  each  is  vanquished  !  Oh, 
unhappy  old  man!  Oh,  cruel  uncle  !  who,  already 
decrepit  and  soon  about  to  die,  before  dying  have 
slain  the  soul  of  your  nephew,  whom  you  have 
deprived  of  the  inheritance  of  Christ  in  order  that 
you  might  have  an  heir  of  your  sins.  But  he  who  is 
evil  to  himself,  to  whom  is  he  good  ?  He  preferred 
to  have  a  successor  in  his  riches  rather  than  an  inter 
cessor  for  his  iniquities. 

8.  But  what  have  I  to  do  with  Deans,  who  are 
our  instructors,  and  have  acquired  authority  in  the 
Churches.  They  hold  the  key  of  knowledge,  and 
take  the  highest  seats  in  the  synagogues.  They  judge 
their  subjects  at  their  will,  they  recall  fugitives,  and 
when  they  are  recalled  scatter  them  again  as  they 
choose.  What  have  I  to  do  with  that  ?  I  confess 
that  because  of  you,  my  Fulk,  I  have  exceeded  some 
what  the  degree  proper  to  my  humility  in  speaking 
of  these,  since  I  wished  to  be  indulgent  to  your 
fault,  and  make  your  shame  little  in  comparison.  I 
pass  over  these  that  they  may  not  have  ground  to 
rail,  not  at  the  blame,  but  at  him  who  blames,  for 
they  would  rather  find  fault  with  my  presumption 
than  occupy  themselves  with  their  own  correction. 
At  all  events  it  is  not  a  prince  of  the  Church  that  I 
have  undertaken  to  reprimand,  but  a  young  student, 
gentle  and  obedient.  Unless,  perhaps,  you  show 
yourself  to  be  a  child  in  sense,  not  in  malice,  and 


LETTER    XLV  187 

object  to  my  boldness,  saying,  What  has  he  to  do 
with  me  ?  What  do  the  faults  which  I  commit 
matter  to  him  ?  Am  I  a  monk  ?  And  to  this  I 
confess  I  have  nothing  to  answer,  except  that  I 
counted,  in  addressing  myself  to  you,  on  the  sweet 
ness  of  character  with  which  you  are  endowed  by 
nature,  and  that  I  was  actuated  by  the  love  of  God, 
to  which  I  appealed  in  the  first  words  of  my  letter. 
It  was  in  zeal  for  Him  that,  pitying  your  error  and 
your  unhappiness,  I  was  moved  to  interfere  beyond 
my  custom  in  order  to  save  you,  although  you  were 
not  mine.1  Your  serious  fall  and  miserable  case  has 
moved  me  thus  to  presume.  For  whom  of  your 
contemporaries  have  you  seen  me  reprimand  ?  To 
whom  have  I  ever  addressed  even  the  briefest  letter  ? 
Not  that  I  regarded  them  as  saints,  nor  had  nothing 
to  blame  in  them. 

9.  WThy,  then,  you  will  say,  do  you  blame  me 
especially,  when  in  others  you  see  what  you  might, 
perhaps,  more  justly  find  fault  with  ?  To  which  I 
reply  :  Because  of  the  excessiveness  of  your  error, 
of  the  enormity  of  your  fault,  for  although  many 
others  live  loosely,  without  rule  and  discipline,  yet 
they  have  not  yet  professed  obedience  to  these. 
They  are  sinners  indeed,  but  not  apostates.  But 
you,  however  honourably  and  quietly  you  may  live, 
although  you  may  conduct  yourself  chastely,  soberly, 
and  religiously,  yet  your  piety  is  not  acceptable  to 
God,  because  it  is  rendered  valueless  by  the  viola 
tion  of  your  vow.  Therefore,  beloved,  do  not  com 
pare  yourself  with  your  contemporaries,  from  whom 
the  profession  which  you  have  made  separates  you, 

1  i.e.,  not  owing  me  obedience  as  a  monk. 


1 88  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

nor  flatter  yourself  so  much  because  of  your  self- 
restraint  in  comparison  with  men  of  the  world,  since 
the  Lord  says  to  you,  /  would  thou  wert  hot  or  cold 
(Apoc.  iii.  15,  1 6).  Here  is  plainly  shown  that  you 
please  God  less,  being  lukewarm,  than  if  you  were  even 
such  as  those  are,  entirely  cold  towards  Him.  For 
them  God  waits  patiently  until  their  cold  shall  pass 
into  heat,  but  you  He  sees  with  displeasure  to  have 
fallen  away  to  lukewarmness,  after  having  been  fer 
vent  in  warmth.  And  because  I  have  found  thee 
lukewarm,  He  says,  /  will  vomit  thee  from  My  mouth 
(ibid.),  and  deservedly,  because  you  have  returned  to 
your  vomit  and  rejected  His  grace  ! 

10.  Alas!  how  have  you  so  soon  grown  weary 
of  the  Saviour,  of  whom  it  is  written,  Honey  and  milk 
are  under  His  tongue  (Cantic.  iv.  n).  I  wonder  that 
nourishment  so  sweet  should  be  distasteful  to  you, 
if  you  have  tasted  how  sweet  the  Lord  is.  Or 
perhaps  you  have  not  yet  tasted  and  do  not  know 
how  sweet  is  Christ,  so  that  you  do  not  desire  what 
you  have  not  tried  ;  or  if  you  have,  then  your  taste 
is  surely  depraved.  He  is  the  Wisdom  of  God  who 
says  :  He  who  cats  of  Me  shall  always  hunger,  and  he 
who  drinks  of  Me  shall  never  cease  to  desire  to  drink  again 
(Ecclus.  xxiv.  29).  But  how  can  he  hunger  or  thirst 
for  Christ  who  is  full  of  the  husks  of  wine  ?  You 
cannot  drink  of  the  cup  of  Christ  and  of  the  cup  of  demons 
(i  Cor.  x.  21).  The  cup  of  demons  is  pride,  detrac 
tion,  envy,  debauch,  and  drunkenness,  with  which 
when  your  mind  and  body  are  saturated,  Christ  will 
find  in  you  no  place.  Do  not  wonder  at  what  I  say. 
In  the  house  of  your  uncle  you  are  not  able  to  drink 
deep  of  the  fulness  of  the  house  of  God.  Why,  you 


LETTER    XLV  189 

say  ?  Because  it  is  a  house  of  [carnal]  delights. 
Now,  as  fire  and  water  cannot  be  together,  so  the 
delights  of  the  spirit  and  those  of  the  flesh  are  in 
compatible.  Christ  will  not  deign  to  pour  His  wine, 
which  is  more  sweet  than  honey  and  the  honeycomb, 
into  the  soul  of  him  whom  He  finds  among  his  cups 
breathing  forth  the  fumes  of  wine.  Where  there  is 
delicate  variety  of  food,  where  the  richness  and  splen 
dour  of  the  service  of  the  table  delights  equally  the 
eyes  and  the  stomach,  the  food  of  heaven  is  wanting 
to  the  soul.  Rejoice,  O,  young  man,  in  thy  youth  ! 
but  then,  when  temporal  joy  departs  in  time  to  come, 
everlasting  sorrow  will  possess  thee  !  May  God  pre 
serve  you,  His  child,  from  this.  May  He  rather 
destroy  the  deceiving  and  perfidious  lips  of  those 
who  give  you  such  advice,  who  say  to  you  every 
day,  Good,  good  !  and  who  seek  your  soul  !  They 
are  those  with  whom  you  are  dwelling,  and  who 
corrupt  the  good  manners  of  a  young  man  by  their 
evil  communications  (colhquia :  otherwise  counsels, 
consilia). 

1 1 .  But  now  how  long  before  you  will  come  out 
from  their  midst  ?  What  do  you  in  the  town  who 
had  chosen  the  cloister,  or  what  have  you  to  do  with 
the  world  which  you  had  renounced  ?  The  lines 
have  fallen  to  you  in  pleasant  places,  and  do  you 
sigh  after  earthly  riches  ?  If  you  wish  to  have  both 
together,  it  will  be  said  to  you  soon,  Remember,  my  son, 
that  you  have  received  your  good  things  when  you  were  in 
life  (S.  Luke  xvi.  25).  You  have  received,  He  said, 
not  you  have  seized  ;  so  that  you  may  not  shelter 
yourself  under  the  vain  excuse,  that  you  are  content 
with  what  is  your  own,  and  do  not  seize  what 


i9o  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

belongs  to  another.  And,  after  all,  what  are  those 
goods  which  you  call  yours  ?  The  benefices  of  the 
Church  ?  Certainly  ;  you  do  well  in  rising  to  keep 
vigil,  in  going  to  Mass,  in  assisting  at  the  day  and 
night  offices,  so  you  do  not  take  the  prabend  of  the 
Church  without  return.  It  is  just  that  he  who  serves 
the  Altar  should  live  from  the  Altar.  It  is  granted 
therefore  to  you  that  if  you  serve  well  at  the  Altar 
you  should  live  from  it,  but  not  that  you  should  live 
in  luxury  and  splendour  at  its  expense,  that  you 
should  take  its  revenues  to  provide  yourself  with 
gilded  reins,  ornamented  saddles,  silver  spurs,  furs  of 
all  kinds,  and  purple  ornaments  to  cover  your  hands 
and  adorn  your  neck.  Whatsoever  you  take  from 
the  Altar,  in  short,  beyond  necessary  food  and  simple 
dress,  is  not  yours,  and  it  is  rapine  and  even  sacrilege. 
The  Wise  man  prayed  for  necessary  sustenance,  not 
for  things  superfluous  (Prov.  xxx.  8).  The  Apostle 
says,  having  food  and  clothing  (i  Tim.  vi.  8),  not  food 
and  magnificent  dress.  And  a  certain  other  saint 
says,  if  the  Lord  shall  give  me  bread  to  eat  and  raiment  to 
cover  me  (Gen.  xxviii.  20).  Take  notice,  to  cover  me. 
So  then  let  us  too  be  content  with  raiment  to  cover 
us,  not  with  luxurious  and  costly  clothing  which  is 
worn  to  please  women,  and  wakes  the  wearers  like 
them.  But  you  say  :  Those  with  whom  I  associate 
do  this  ;  if  I  do  not  do  as  others,  I  shall  be  remarked 
for  singularity.  Wherefore  I  say,  go  forth  from  the 
midst  of  them  ;  that  you  may  not  either  live  with 
singularity  in  the  eyes  of  the  town  or  perish  by  the 
example  of  others. 

12.  What  do  you  do  in  the  town  at  all,  O  effemi 
nate  soldier  ?     Your  fellow  soldiers  whom  you  have 


LETTER    XLV  191 

deserted  by  flight  are  righting  and  overcoming ;  they 
knock  and  they  enter  in,  they  seize  heaven  and  reign 
while  you  scour  the  streets  and  squares,  sitting  upon 
your  ambling  courser,  and  clad  in  purple  and  fine 
linen.  These  are  the  ornaments  of  peace,  not  the 
weapons  of  war.  Or  do  you  say,  Peace,  and  there  is 
no  peace  (Ezekiel  xiii.  10).  The  purple  tunic  does  not 
put  to  flight  lust,  and  pride,  and  avarice,  nor  does  it 
protect  against  other  fiery  darts  of  the  enemy. 
Lastly,  it  does  not  ward  off  from  you  the  fever 
which  you  more  fear,  nor  secure  you  from  death. 
Where  are  your  warlike  weapons,  the  shield  of  faith, 
the  helmet  of  salvation,  the  breast-plate  of  patience  ? 
Why  do  you  tremble  ?  there  are  more  with  us  than 
with  our  enemies.  Take  your  arms,  recover  your 
strength  while  yet  the  combat  lasts ;  Angels  are 
spectators  and  helpers,  the  Lord  himself  is  your  aid 
and  your  support,  who  will  teach  your  hands  to  war 
and  your  fingers  to  fight  (Psalm  cxliv.  i).  Let  us  come 
to  the  help  of  our  brothers,  lest  if  they  fight  without 
us  they  vanquish  without  us,  and  without  us  enter 
into  heaven  ;  lest,  last  of  all,  when  the  door  has  been 
shut  it  be  replied  from  within  to  us  knocking  too  late, 
Verily  I  say  unto  you,  I  know  you  not  (S.  Matthew  xxv. 
12).  Make  yourself  known  then  and  seen  before 
hand,  lest  you  be  unknown  for  glory  and  known 
only  for  punishment.  If  Christ  recognizes  you  in  the 
strife,  He  will  recognize  you  in  heaven,  and  as  He 
has  promised,  will  manifest  Himself  to  you  (S.  John 
xiv.  21).  If  only  you  by  repenting  and  returning 
will  show  yourself  such  as  to  be  able  to  say  with 
confidence  Then  shall  I  know  even  as  also  I  am  known 
(i  Corinthians  xiii.  12).  In  the  meantime  I  have  by 


192  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

these  admonitions  knocked  sufficiently  at  the  heart  of  a 
young  man  modest  and  docile  ;  and  nothing  remains 
for  me  now  than  to  knock  by  my  prayers  also,  for 
him,  at  the  door  of  the  Divine  Mercy,  that  the  Lord 
may  finish  my  work  if  my  remonstrances  have  found 
his  heart  ever  so  little  softened,  so  that  I  may 
speedily  rejoice  over  him  with  great  joy. 


LETTER  XLVI  (circa  A.D.   1125) 

TO  GUIGUES,  THE  PRIOR,  AND  TO  THE  OTHER 
MONKS  OF  THE  GRAND  CHARTREUSE 

He  discourses  muck  and  piously  of  the  law  of  true  and  sincere 
chanty,  of  its  signs,  its  degrees,  its  effects,  and  of  its 
perfection  which  is  reserved  for  Heaven  (jPatria). 

Brother  Bernard,  of  Clairvaux,  wishes  health 
eternal  to  the  most  reverend  among  fathers,  and  to 
the  dearest  among  friends,  Guigues,  Prior  of  the 
Grande  Chartreuse,  and  to  the  holy  Monks  who  are 
with  him. 

i.  I  have  received  the  letter  of  your  Holiness  as 
joyfully  as  I  had  long  and  eagerly  desired  it.  I  have 
read  it,  and  the  letters  which  I  pronounced  with  my 
mouth,  I  felt,  as  it  were,  sparks  of  fire  in  my  heart, 
which  warmed  my  heart  within  me  ;  as  coming  from 
that  fire  which  the  Lord  has  sent  upon  the  earth 
(S.  Luke  xii.  49).  How  great  a  fire  must  glow  in 
those  meditations  from  which  such  sparks  fly  forth  ! 
This,  your  inspired  and  inspiring  salutation,  was  to 
me,  I  confess,  not  as  if  coming  from  man,  but  like 


LETTER    XLVI  193 

words  descending  surely  from  Him  who  sent  the 
salutation  to  Jacob.  It  is  not  for  me,  in  fact,  a 
simple  salutation  given  in  passing,  according  to  the 
custom  and  usage  of  men,  but  it  is  plainly  from  the 
very  bowels  of  charity,  as  I  feel,  that  this  benediction, 
so  sweet  and  so  unhoped  for,  has  come  forth.  I  pray 
God  to  bless  you,  who  have  had  the  goodness  to 
prevent  me  with  benedictions  of  such  sweetness,  that 
confidence  is  granted  to  me,  your  humble  servant,  to 
reply,  since  you  have  first  written  ;  for  though  I  had 
meditated  writing,  I  had  hitherto  not  presumed  to  do 
so.  For  I  feared  to  trouble,  by  my  eager  scribbling, 
the  holy  quiet  which  you  have  in  the  Lord,  and  the 
religious  silence  which  isolates  you  from  the  world. 
I  feared,  also,  to  interrupt,  even  for  a  moment,  those 
mysterious  whispers  from  God,  and  to  pour  my 
words  into  ears  always  occupied  with  the  secret 
praises  of  heaven.  I  feared  to  become  as  one  who 
would  trouble  even  Moses  on  the  mountain,  Elias  in 
the  desert,  or  Samuel  watching  in  the  temple,  if  I 
had  tried  to  turn  away  ever  so  little,  minds  occupied 
with  divine  communion.  Samuel  cries  out  :  Speak, 
Lord,  for  Thy  servant  hcareth  (i  Sam.  iii.  10).  And 
should  I  presume  to  make  myself  heard  ?  I  feared, 
I  say,  lest  presenting  myself  out  of  season  before 
you,  as  it  were  to  David  engaged  in  flight,  or  abiding 
in  solitude,  you  might  not  wish  to  listen,  and  might 
say,  "  Excuse  me,  I  cannot  hear  thee  now  ;  I  prefer 
rather  to  give  ear  to  words  sweeter  than  thine."  / 
will  hear  what  the  Lord  God  will  say  unto  me ;  for  He 
shall  speak  peace  unto  His  people,  and  to  His  saints,  and 
to  those  who  are  converted  at  heart  (Ps.  Ixxxiv.  9,  VULG.). 
Or,  at  least,  this  :  Depart  from  me,  ye  evil-disposed,  and 

N 


i94  s-    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

/  will  study  the  commandments  of  my  God  (Ps.  cxix.  115). 
For  could  I  be  so  rash  as  to  dare  to  arouse  the 
much-loved  spouse  sweetly  resting  in  the  arms  of  her 
bridegroom  as  long  as  she  will  ?  Should  I  not  hear 
from  her  on  the  instant :  Do  not  be  troublesome  to 
me  ;  /  am  for  My  Beloved,  and  My  Beloved  is  for  Me ; 
He  feedeth  among  the  lilies  (Cant.  ii.  16). 

2.  But  what  I  do  not  dare  to  do,  charity  dares, 
and  with  all  confidence  knocks  at  the  door  of  a 
friend,  thinking  that  she  ought  by  no  means  to  suffer 
repulse,  who  knows  herself  to  be  the  mother  of 
friendships  ;  nor  does  she  fear  to  interrupt  for  an 
instant  your  rest,  though  so  pleasant,  to  speak  to  you 
of  her  own  task.  She,  when  she  will,  causes  you  to 
withdraw  from  being  alone  with  God ;  she,  also,  when 
she  willed,  made  you  attentive  to  me  ;  so  that  you 
did  not  regard  it  as  unworthy  of  you,  not  merely  to 
benignantly  endure  my  speaking,  but  more,  to  urge 
me  to  break  the  silence.  I  esteem  the  kindness,  I 
admire  the  worthiness,  I  praise  and  venerate  the  pure 
rejoicing  with  which  you  glory  in  the  Lord,  for  the 
advances  in  virtue  which,  as  you  suppose,  I  have 
made.  I  am  proud  of  so  great  a  testimony,  and 
esteem  myself  happy  in  a  friendship  so  grateful  to 
me  as  that  of  the  servants  of  God  towards  me. 
This  is  now  my  glory,  this  is  my  joy  and  the  re 
joicing  of  my  heart,  that  not  in  vain  I  have  lifted 
up  mine  eyes  unto  the  mountains  whence  there  has 
now  come  to  me  help  of  no  small  value.  These 
mountains  have  already  distilled  sweetness  for  me  ; 
and  I  continue  to  hope  that  they  will  do  so  until  our 
valleys  shall  abound  with  fruit.  That  day  shall  be 
always  for  me  a  day  of  festival  and  perpetual 


LETTER    XLVI  195 

memorial,  in  which  I  had  the  honour  to  see  and  to 
receive  that  worthy  man,  by  whom  it  has  come  about 
that  I  should  be  received  into  your  hearts.  And, 
indeed,  you  had  received  me  even  before,  if  I  may 
judge  by  your  letter  ;  but  now  with  a  more  close 
and  intimate  friendship,  since,  as  I  find,  he  brought 
back  to  you  too  favourable  reports  concerning  me 
which,  doubtless,  he  believed,  though  without  suffi 
cient  cause.  For,  as  a  faithful  and  pious  man,  God 
forbid  that  he  should  speak  otherwise  than  he  believed. 
And  truly  I  experience  in  myself  what  the  Saviour 
says  :  He  who  receives  a  righteous  man  in  the  name  of  a 
righteous  man  shall  receive  a  righteous  mans  reward 
(S.  Matt.  x.  41).  I  have  said,  the  reward  of  a 
righteous  man,  because  I  am  regarded  as  righteous, 
only  through  receiving  one  who  is  righteous.  If  he 
has  reported  of  me  something  more  than  that,  he  has 
spoken  not  so  much  according  to  the  truth  of  the 
case  as  according  to  the  simplicity  and  goodness  of 
his  heart.  You  have  heard,  you  have  believed,  you 
have  rejoiced,  and  have  written,  thereby  giving  me 
no  little  joy,  not  only  because  I  have  been  honoured 
with  a  degree  of  praise  and  a  high  place  in  the  esti 
mation  of  your  Holiness,  but  also  because  all  the 
sincerity  of  your  souls  has  made  itself  known  to  me 
in  no  small  measure.  In  few  words,  you  have  shown 
to  me  with  what  spirit  you  are  animated. 

3.  I  rejoice,  therefore,  and  congratulate  you  on 
your  sincerity  and  goodness  as  I  congratulate  myself 
on  the  edification  which  you  have  afforded  to  me. 
That  is,  indeed,  true  and  sincere  charity,  and  must  be 
considered  to  proceed  from  a  heart  altogether  pure 
and  a  good  conscience  and  faith  unfeigned,  with 


196  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

which  we  love  our  neighbour  as  ourself.  For  he 
who  loves  only  the  good  that  himself  has  done,  or,  at 
least,  loves  it  more  than  that  of  others,  does  not  love 
good  for  its  own  sake,  but  on  account  of  himself,  and 
he  who  is  such  cannot  do  as  the  prophet  says  :  Give 
thanks  unto  the  Lord,  because  He  is  good  (Ps.  cxviii.  i). 
He  gives  thanks,  indeed,  perhaps,  because  the  Lord 
is  good  to  him,  not  because  He  is  good  in  Himself. 
Wherefore  let  him  understand  that  this  reproach  from 
the  same  prophet  is  directed  against  him  :  They  will 
praise  thee  when  thou  doest  well  unto  thy  own  soul  (Ps. 
xlix.  1 8).  One  man  praises  the  Lord  because  He  is 
mighty  ;  another  because  He  is  good  unto  him  ;  and, 
again,  another  simply  because  He  is  good.  The  first 
is  a  slave,  and  fears  for  himself ;  the  second  mer 
cenary,  and  desires  somewhat  for  himself  ;  but  the 
third  is  a  son,  and  gives  praise  to  his  Father.  There 
fore  both  he  who  fears  and  he  who  desires  are  each 
working  for  his  own  advantage  ;  charity  which  is  in 
him  alone  who  is  a  son,  seeketh  not  her  own.  Where 
fore  I  think  that  it  was  of  charity  that  was  spoken, 
The  law  of  the  Lord  is  pure,  converting  the  soul  (Ps.  xix.  7), 
because  it  is  that  atone  which  can  turn  away  the  mind 
from  the  love  of  itself  and  of  the  world  and  direct  it 
towards  God.  Neither  fear  nor  selfish  love  converts 
the  soul.  They  change  sometimes  the  outward  ap 
pearance  or  the  actions,  but  never  affect  the  heart. 
No  doubt  even  the  slave  does  sometimes  the  work  of 
God,  but  because  he  does  it  not  of  his  own  free  will 
he  remains  still  in  his  hardness.  The  mercenary 
person  does  it  also,  but  not  out  of  kindness,  only  as 
drawn  by  his  own  particular  advantage.  Where 
there  is  distinction  of  persons,  there  are  personal 


LETTER    XLVI  197 

interests,  and  where  there  are  personal  interests  there 
is  a  limit  of  willingness,  and  there,  without  doubt,  a 
rusting  meanness.  Let  the  very  fear  by  which  he  is 
constrained  be  a  law  to  the  slave,  let  the  greedy 
desire,  with  which  the  mercenary  is  bound,  be  a  law 
to  him,  since  it  is  by  it  that  he  is  drawn  away  and 
enticed.  But  of  these  neither  is  without  fault  or  is 
able  to  convert  the  soul.  But  charity  does  convert 
souls  when  it  fills  them  with  disinterested  zeal. 

4.  Now,  I  should  say  that  this  charity  is  faultless 
in  him  who  has  become  accustomed  to  retain  nothing 
for  himself  out  of  that  which  is  his  own.  He  who 
keeps  nothing  for  himself  gives  to  God  quite  certainly 
all  that  he  has,  and  that  which  belongs  to  God  cannot 
be  unclean.  Thus  that  pure  law  of  the  Lord  is  no 
other  than  charity,  which  seeks  not  what  is  advan 
tageous  to  herself,  but  that  which  profits  others.  But 
law  is  said  to  be  of  the  Lord,  either  because  He 
Himself  lives  by  it  or  because  no  one  possesses  it 
except  by  His  gift.  Nor  let  it  seem  absurd  what  I 
have  said,  that  even  God  lives  by  law,  since  I  declared 
that  this  law  was  no  other  than  charity.  For  what 
but  charity  preserves  in  the  supreme  and  blessed 
Trinity,  that  lofty  and  unspeakable  unity  which  it  has? 
It  is  law,  then,  and  charity  the  law  of  the  Lord,  which 
maintains  in  a  wonderful  manner  the  Trinity  in  Unity 
and  binds  It  in  the  bond  of  peace.  Yet  let  no  one 
think  that  I  here  take  charity  for  a  quality  or  a  certain 
accident  in  God,  or  otherwise  to  say  that  in  God 
(which  God  forbid)  there  is  something  which  is  not 
God  ;  but  I  say  that  it  is  the  very  substance  of  God. 
I  say  nothing  new  or  unheard  of,  for  S.  John  says 
God  is  love  (i  S.  John  iv.  16). 


198  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

It  is  then  right  to  say  that  charity  is  God,  and  at 
the  same  time  the  gift  of  God.  Therefore  Charity 
gives  charity,  the  substantial l  gives  the  accidental. 
Where  the  word  signifies  the  Giver  it  is  a  name  of 
the  substance,  and  where  the  thing  given,  it  is  a  name 
of  the  accident.  This  is  the  eternal  law,  Creator  and 
Ruler  of  the  Universe.  Since  all  things  have  been 
made  through  it  in  weight  and  measure  and  number, 
and  nothing  is  left  without  law,  not  even  He  who  is 
the  Law  of  all  things,  yet  He  is  Himself  none  other 
than  the  law  which  rules  Him,  a  law  uncreated  as 
He. 

5.  But  the  slave  and  the  mercenary  have  a  law, 
not  from  God,  but  which  they  have  made  for  them 
selves — the  one  by  not  loving  God,  the  other  by  loving 
something  else  more  than  Him.  They  have,  I  say,  a 
law  which  is  their  own  and  not  of  the  Lord,  to  which, 
nevertheless,  their  own  is  subjected  ;  nor  are  they 
able  to  withdraw  themselves  from  the  unchangeable 
order  of  the  divine  law,  though  each  should  make  a 
law  for  himself.  I  would  say,  then,  that  a  person 
makes  a  law  for  himself  when  he  prefers  his  own  will 
to  the  common  and  eternal  law,  perversely  wishing 
to  imitate  his  Creator  ;  so  that  as  He  is  a  law  unto 
Himself,  and  is  under  no  authority  but  His  Own,  so 
the  man  also  will  be  his  own  master,  will  make  his 
own  will  a  law  to  himself.  Alas  !  what  a  heavy  and 
insupportable  yoke  upon  all  the  sons  of  Adam,  which 
weighs  upon  and  bows  down  our  necks,  so  that  our 
life  is  drawn  near  to  the  grave.  Unhappy  man  that 
I  am,  who  shall  deliver  me  from  the  body  of  this 
death  ?  (Rom.  vii.  24)  with  which  I  am  so  weighed 

Mabillon  reads  substantiva,  but  another  reading  is  sttbstantia. — [E.] 


LETTER    XLVI  199 

down  that  unless  the  Lord  had  helped  me,  my  soul 
would  almost  have  dwelt  in  the  grave  (Ps.  xciv.  17). 
With  this  load  was  he  burdened  who  groaned,  saying: 
Why  hast  Thou  set  me  as  a  mark  against  Thee,  so  that  I 
ant  a  burden  to  myself?  (Job  vii.  20).  Where  he  says, 
I  am  made  a  burden  to  myself,  he  showed  that  he  was  a 
law  unto  himself,  and  the  law  no  other  than  he  him 
self  had  made  it.  But  when,  speaking  to  God,  he 
commenced  by  saying,  Thou  hast  set  me  as  a  mark 
against  Thee,  he  showed  that  he  had  not  escaped  from 
the  Divine  law.  For  this  is  the  property  of  that 
eternal  and  just  law  of  God,  that  he  who  would  not 
be  ruled  with  gentleness  by  God,  should  be  ruled  as 
a  punishment  by  his  own  self  ;  and  that  all  those 
who  have  willingly  thrown  off  the  gentle  yoke  and 
light  burden  of  charity  should  bear  unwillingly  the 
insupportable  burden  of  their  own  will. 

6.  Thus  the  everlasting  law  does  in  a  wonderful 
manner,  to  him  who  is  a  fugitive  from  its  power, 
both  make  him  an  adversary  and  retain  him  as  a 
subject  ;  for  while,  on  the  one  hand,  he  has  not 
escaped  from  the  law  of  justice,  by  which  he  is  dealt 
with  according  to  his  merits,  on  the  other  he  does 
not  remain  with  God  in  His  light,  or  peace,  or  glory. 
He  is  subjected  to  power,  and  excluded  from  happi 
ness.  O  Lord,  my  God,  why  dost  Thou  not  take  away 
my  sin,  and  pardon  my  transgression?  (Job  vii.  21). 
So  that  throwing  down  the  heavy  weight  of  my  own 
will,  I  may  breathe  easily  under  the  light  burden  of 
charity  ;  that  I  may  not  be  overborne  any  longer  by 
servile  fear,  nor  allured  by  selfish  cupidity,  but  may 
be  impelled  by  Thy  spirit,  the  spirit  of  liberty,  which 
is  that  of  Thy  children.  Who  is  it  who  witnesses  to 


200  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

my  spirit  that  I,  too,  am  one  of  Thy  children,  since 
Thy  law  is  mine,  and  as  Thou  art,  so  am  I  also,  in 
this  world  ?  For  it  is  quite  certain  that  those  who 
do  this  which  the  Apostle  says  owe  no  one  anything  except 
to  love  one  another  (Rom.  xiii.  8)  are  themselves  as 
God  is  in  this  world,  nor  are  they  slaves  or  merce 
naries,  but  sons.  Therefore  neither  are  sons  without 
law,  unless,  perhaps,  some  one  should  think  the  con 
trary  because  of  this  which  is  written,  the  law  is  not 
made  for  a  righteous  man  (i  Tim.  i.  9).  But  it  ought 
to  be  remembered  that  the  law  promulgated  in  fear 
by  a  spirit  of  slavery  is  one  thing,  and  that  given 
sweetly  and  gently  by  the  spirit  of  liberty  is  another. 
Those  who  are  sons  are  not  obliged  to  submit  to  the 
first,  but  they  are  always  under  the  rule  of  the  second. 
Do  you  wish  to  hear  why  it  is  said  that  law  is  not 
made  for  the  righteous  ?  You  have  not  received,  he 
says,  the  spirit  of  slavery  again  in  fear.  Or  why,  never 
theless,  they  are  always  under  the  rule  of  the  law  of 
charity  ?  But  ye  have  received  the  spirit  of  the  adoption  of 
sons  (Rom.  viii.  15).  Listen,  now,  in  what  manner 
the  righteous  man  confesses  that  at  the  same  time  he 
is  and  is  not  under  the  law.  /  became,  he  says,  to 
those  which  were  under  the  law  as  being  under  the  law, 
although  I  myself  was  not  under  the  law :  but  to  those  who 
were  without  law,  I  was  as  being  without  law,  since  I  was 
not  without  the  laiv  of  God  but  in  the  law  of  Christ  ( I  Cor. 
ix.  20,  21).  Whence  it  is  not  accurately  said  the 
righteous  have  no  law,  or  the  righteous  are  without 
law,  but  that  the  law  was  not  made  for  the  righteous ; 
that  is,  it  is  not,  as  it  were,  imposed  upon  unwilling 
subjects,  but  given  freely  to  willing  hearts  by  Him  to 
whose  sweet  inspiration  it  is  due.  Wherefore  the 


LETTER    XLVI  201 

Lord  also  beautifully  says,  Take  My  yoke  upon  you 
(S.  Matt.  xi.  29).  As  if  He  would  say,  I  do  not 
impose  it  upon  you  against  your  will,  take  it  if  you 
are  willing  ;  otherwise  you  will  find  not  rest,  but 
labour,  for  your  souls. 

7.  The  law  of  charity,  then,  is  good  and  sweet,  it 
is  not  only  light  and  sweet  to  bear,  but  it  renders 
bearable  and  light  the  laws  even  of  slaves  and  mer 
cenaries.  But  it  does  not  destroy  these,  but  brings 
about  their  fulfilment,  as  the  Lord  says,  I  am  not 
come  to  destroy  the  law,  but  to  fulfil  (S.  Matt.  v.  17). 
The  one  it  moderates,  the  other  it  reduces  to  order, 
and  each  it  lightens.  Charity  will  never  be  without 
fear,  but  that  fear  is  good  ;  it  will  never  be  without 
any  thought  of  interest,  but  that  a  restrained  and 
moderated  one.  Charity,  therefore,  perfects  the  law 
of  the  slave  when  it  inspires  a  generous  devotion,  and 
that  of  the  mercenary  when  it  gives  a  better  direction 
to  interested  wishes.  So,  then,  devotion  mixed  with 
fear  does  not  annul  those  last,  but  purifies  them,  only 
it  takes  away  the  fear  of  punishment  which  servile 
fear  is  never  exempt  from ;  and  this  fear  is  clean  and 
filial,  enduring  for  ever  (Ps.  xix.  9).  For  that  which  is 
written,  perfect  love  takes  away  fear  (i  S.  John  iv.  18), 
is  to  be  understood  of  the  fear  of  punishment,  which 
is  never  wanting,  as  we  have  said,  to  slavish  fear.  It 
is,  in  fact,  a  common  mode  of  speech  which  consists 
in  putting  the  cause  for  the  effect.  As  for  cupidity, 
it  is  then  rightly  directed  by  the  charity  which  is 
joined  with  it,  since  ceasing  altogether  to  desire 
things  which  are  evil,  it  begins  to  prefer  those  which 
are  better,  nor  does  it  desire  good  things  except  in 
order  to  reach  those  which  are  better  ;  which  when, 


202  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

by  the  grace  of  God,  it  has  fully  obtained,  the  body 
and  all  the  good  things  which  belong  to  the  body 
will  be  loved  only  for  the  sake  of  the  soul,  the  soul 
for  the  sake  of  God,  and  God  alone  for  Himself. 

8.  However,  as  we  are  in  fleshly  bodies,  and  are 
born  of  the  desire  of  the  flesh,  it  is  of  necessity  that 
our  desire,  or  affection,  should  begin  from  the  flesh  ; 
but  if  it  is  rightly  directed,  advancing  step  by  step 
under  the  guidance  of  grace,  it  will  at  length  be  per 
fected  by  the  Spirit,  because  that  is  not  first  which  is 
spiritual,  but  that  which  is  natural,  and  afterwards  that 
which  is  spiritual;  and  it  is  needful  that  we  should  first 
bear  the  image  of  the  earthly  and  afterwards  that  of  the 
heavenly  (i  Cor.  xv.  46,  49).  First,  then,  a  man  loves 
his  own  self  for  self's  sake,  since  he  is  flesh,  and  he 
cannot  have  any  taste  except  for  things  in  relation 
with  him  ;  but  when  he  sees  that  he  is  not  able  to 
subsist  by  himself,  that  God  is,  as  it  were,  necessary 
to  him,  he  begins  to  inquire  and  to  love  God  by 
faith.  Thus  he  loves  God  in  the  second  place,  but 
because  of  his  own  interest,  and  not  for  the  sake  of 
God  Himself.  But  when,  on  account  of  his  own 
necessity,  he  has  begun  to  worship  Him  and  to 
approach  Him  by  meditation,  by  reading,  by  prayer, 
by  obedience,  he  comes  little  by  little  to  know  God 
with  a  certain  familiarity,  and  in  consequence  to  find 
Him  sweet  and  kind  ;  and  thus  having  tasted  how 
sweet  the  Lord  is,  he  passes  to  the  third  stage,  and 
thus  loves  God  no  longer  on  account  of  his  own 
interest,  but  for  the  sake  of  God  Himself.  Once 
arrived  there,  he  remains  stationary,  and  I  know  not 
if  in  this  life  man  is  truly  able  to  rise  to  the  fourth 
degree,  which  is,  no  longer  to  love  himself  except  for 


LETTER    XLVI  203 

the  sake  of  God.  Those  who  have  made  trial  of  this 
(if  there  be  any)  may  assert  it  to  be  attainable  ;  to 
me,  I  confess,  it  appears  impossible.  It  will  be  so 
without  doubt  when  the  good  and  faithful  servant 
shall  have  been  brought  into  the  joy  of  his  Lord,  and 
inebriated  with  the  fulness  of  the  house  of  God. 
For  being,  as  it  were,  exhilarate,  he  shall  in  a 
wonderful  way  be  forgetful  of  himself,  he  shall  lose 
the  consciousness  of  what  he  is,  and  being  absorbed 
altogether  in  God,  shall  attach  himself  unto  Him  with 
all  his  powers,  shall  thenceforth  be  one  spirit  with 
Him. 

9.  I  consider  that  the  prophet  referred  to  this  when 
he  said  :  /  will  enter  into  the  powers  of  the  Lord :  O,  Lord, 
I  will  make  mention  of  Thy  righteousness  only  (Ps.  Ixxi.  1 6). 
He  knew  well  that  when  he  entered  into  the  spiritual 
powers  of  God  he  would  be  freed  from  all  the  in 
firmities  of  the  flesh,  and  would  have  no  longer  to 
think  of  them,  but  would  be  occupied  only  with  the 
perfections  of  God.  Then,  for  certain,  each  of  the 
members  of  Christ  would  be  able  to  say  of  himself, 
what  Paul  said  of  their  Head  :  If  we  have  known  Christ 
according  to  the  flesh,  yet  now  henceforth  know  we  Him  no 
more  (2  Cor.  v.  16).  There  no  one  knows  himself 
according  to  the  flesh,  becauseyfcsA  and  blood  will  not  in 
herit  the  kingdom  of  God  (i  Cor.  xv.  50).  Not  that  the 
substance  of  flesh  will  not  be  there,  but  that  every 
fleshly  necessity  will  be  away  ;  the  love  of  the  flesh  is  to 
be  absorbed  into  the  love  of  the  spirit,  and  the  weak 
human  passions  which  exist  at  present  will  be 
absorbed  into  powers  divine.  Then  the  net  of  charity, 
which  is  now  drawn  through  a  great  and  vast  sea,  and 
does  not  cease  to  bring  together  from  every  kind  of 


204  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

fish,  at  length  drawn  to  the  shore,  shall  retain  only 
the  good,  rejecting  the  bad.  And  while  in  this  life 
charity  fills  with  all  kinds  of  fishes  the  vast  spaces  of 
its  net,  suiting  itself  to  all  according  to  the  time, 
making,  in  a  sense,  its  own,  and  partaking  of  the  good 
and  evil  fortunes  of  all,  it  is  accustomed  not  only  to 
rejoice  with  them  that  rejoice,  but  to  weep  with  them 
that  weep.  But  when  it  shall  have  reached  the  shore 
[of  eternity],  casting  away  as  evil  fish  all  that  it  bore 
with  grief  before,  it  will  retain  those  only  which  are 
sources  of  pleasure  and  gladness.  Then  Paul  will  no 
longer  be  weak  with  the  weak,  or  be  scandalized  with 
those  who  are  scandalized,  since  scandal  and  weak 
ness  will  be  far  away.  We  ought  not  to  think  that  he 
will  still  let  fall  tears  over  those  who  have  not  re 
pented  here  below  ;  and  as  it  is  certain  that  there 
will  no  longer  be  sinners,  so  there  will  be  no  one  to 
repent.  Far  be  it  from  us  to  think  that  he  will 
mourn  and  deplore  those  whose  portion  is  everlasting 
fire  with  the  devil  and  his  angels,  when  in  that  City 
of  God  which  the  streams  of  that  river  make  glad 
(Ps.  xlvi.  4),  the  gates  of  which  the  Lord  loves  more 
than  all  the  dwellings  of  Jacob  (Ps.  Ixxxvii.  2),  because 
in  those  dwellings,  although  the  joy  of  victory  is 
sometimes  tasted,  yet  the  combat  always  continues, 
and  sometimes  the  struggle  is  for  life  ;  but  in  that 
dear  country  there  is  no  place  for  adversity  or  sorrow, 
as  in  that  Psalm  we  sing  :  The  abiding  place  of  all  those 
who  rejoice  is  in  Thee  (Ps.  Ixxxvii.  7,  VULG.),  and  again  : 
Everlasting  joy  shall  be  unto  them  (Is.  Ixi.  7).  How, 
then,  shall  any  remembrance  be  of  mercy,  where  the 
justice  of  God  shall  be  alone  remembered  ?  There 
can  be  no  feeling  of  compassion  called  into  exercise 


LETTER    XLVI  205 

where  there  shall  be  no  place  for  misery,  or  occasion 
for  pity. 

10.  I  am  impelled  to  prolong  this  already  lengthy 
discourse,  dearly  beloved  and  much  longed-for 
brethren,  by  the  very  strong  desire  I  have  of  convers 
ing  with  you  ;  but  there  are  three  things  which  show 
me  that  I  ought  to  come  to  an  end.  First,  that  I  fear 
to  be  burdensome  to  you  ;  that  I  am  ashamed  to 
show  myself  so  loquacious ;  third,  that  I  am  pressed 
with  domestic  cares.  In  conclusion,  I  beg  you  to 
have  compassion  for  me,  and  if  you  have  rejoiced  for 
the  good  things  you  have  heard  of  me,  sympathize 
with  me  also,  I  pray,  in  my  too  real  temptations  and 
cares.  He  who  related  these  things  to  you  has,  no 
doubt,  seen  some  few  little  things,  and  has  valued 
these  little  things  as  great,  while  your  indulgence  has 
easily  believed  what  it  willingly  heard.  I  felicitate 
you,  indeed,  on  that  charity  which  believes  all  things  (i 
Cor.  xiii.  7).  But  I  am  confounded  by  the  truth 
which  knows  all  things.  I  beg  you  to  believe  me  in 
what  I  say  of  myself  rather  than  another  who  has 
only  seen  me  from  without.  No  man  knoweth  the  things 
that  are  in  a  man  save  the  spirit  of  man  which  is  in  him 
(i  Cor.  ii.  n).  I  assure  you  that  I  do  not  speak  of 
myself  by  conjecture,  but  out  of  full  knowledge,  and 
that  I  am  not  such  as  I  am  believed  and  said  to  be. 
I  fell  assured  of  this,  and  confess  it  frankly  ;  that  so 
I  may  obtain  your  special  prayers,  and  thus  may 
become  such  as  your  letter  sets  forth,  than  which 
there  is  nothing  I  desire  more. 


206  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 


LETTER    XLVII 
To  THE  BROTHER  OF  WILLIAM,  A  MONK  OF 

CLAIRVAUX.1 

Bernard,  after  having  made  a  striking  commendation  of  reli 
gious  poverty,  reproaches  in  him  an  affection  too  great  for 
worldly  things,  to  the  detriment  of  the  poor  and  of  his  own 
soul,  so  that  he  preferred  to  yield  them  up  only  to  death, 
rather  than  for  the  love  of  Christ. 

i.  Although  you  are  unknown  to  me  by  face,  and 
although  distant  from  me  in  body,  yet  you  are  my 
friend,  and  this  friendship  between  us  makes  you  to 
be  present  and  familiar  to  me.  It  is  not  flesh  and 
blood,  but  the  Spirit  of  God  which  has  prepared  for 
you,  though  without  your  knowledge,  this  friendship, 
which  has  united  your  brother  William  and  me  with 
a  lasting  bond  of  spiritual  affection,  which  includes 
you,  too,  through  him,  if  you  think  it  worth  accept 
ance.  And  if  you  are  wise  you  will  not  despise  the 
friendship  of  those  whom  the  Truth  declares  blessed, 
and  calls  kings  of  heaven  ;  which  blessedness  we 
would  not  envy  to  you,  nor  if  communicated  to  you 
would  it  be  diminished  to  us,  nor  would  our  boun 
daries  be  at  all  narrowed  if  you  should  reign  over 
them  too.  For  what  cause  can  there  be  for  envy 
where  the  multitude  of  those  who  share  a  blessing 
takes  nothing  from  the  greatness  of  the  share  which 

1  Such  of  the  title  of  the  Letter  in  two  Vatican  MSS.  and  in  certain 
others.  In  those  of  Citeaux  it  is  inscribed  Letter  of  exhortation  to  a  friend. 
But  at  the  end  of  Letter  106  I  conjecture  the  reference  to  be  to  Ivo,  who 
signs  it  with  William. 


LETTER    XLVII  207 

each  enjoys  ?  I  wish  you  to  be  the  friend  of  the 
poor,  but  especially  their  imitator.  The  one  is  the 
grade  of  beginner,  the  other  of  the  perfect,  for  the 
friendship  of  the  poor  makes  us  the  friend  of  kings, 
but  the  love  of  poverty  makes  us  kings  ourselves. 
The  kingdom  of  heaven  is  the  kingdom  of  the  poor, 
and  one  of  the  marks  of  royal  power  is  to  do  good 
to  friends  according  to  our  will.  Make  to  yourselves 
friends,  it  is  said,  of  the  mammon  of  unrighteousness,  that 
when  ye  fail  they  may  receive  you  into  everlasting  habita 
tions  (S.  Luke  xvi.  9).  You  see  what  a  high  dignity 
sacred  poverty  is,  so  that  not  only  does  it  not  seek 
protection  for  itself,  but  extends  it  to  those  who 
need.  What  a  power  is  this,  to  approach  by  one's 
self  to  the  Throne  of  God  without  the  intervention 
of  any,  whether  angels  or  men,  with  simple  confid 
ence  in  the  Divine  favour,  thus  reaching  the  summit 
of  existence,  the  height  of  all  glory  ! 

2.  But  would  that  you,  without  pretence,  would 
consider  how  you  hinder  your  own  attainment  of 
these  advantages.  Alas  !  that  a  vapour  which  ap 
pears  but  for  a  moment  should  block  up  the  entrance 
to  eternal  glory,  hide  from  you  the  clearness  of  the 
unbounded  and  everlasting  light,  prevent  you  from 
recognizing  the  true  nature  of  things,  and  deprive 
you  of  the  highest  degree  of  glory  !  How  long  will 
you  prefer  to  such  glory  the  grass  of  the  field,  which 
to-day  is,  and  to-morrow  is  cast  into  the  oven  ?  I 
mean  carnal  and  worldly  glory.  For  all  fiesh  is 
grass,  and  its  glory  as  the  flower  of  the  field  (Is.  xl.  6). 
If  you  are  wise,  if  you  have  a  heart  to  feel  and  eyes 
to  see,  cease  to  pursue  those  things  which  it  is  misery 
to  attain.  Happy  is  he  who  does  not  toil  at  all  after 


208  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

those  things,  which  when  possessed  are  a  burden, 
when  loved  a  defilement,  and  when  lost  a  torment. 
Will  it  not  be  better  to  have  the  honour  to  renounce 
them  than  the  vexation  to  lose  them  ?  Or  will  it  be 
more  prudent  to  yield  them  up  for  the  love  of  Christ 
than  to  have  them  taken  away  by  death  ? — death, 
which  is  a  robber  lying  in  wait  for  you,  into  whose 
hands  you  cannot  help  falling,  with  all  that  belongs 
to  you.  When  he  shall  do  so  you  cannot  foresee, 
because  he  will  come  as  a  thief  in  the  night.  You 
brought  nothing  into  this  world,  and  it  is  certain  you  can 
carry  nothing  out  (i  Tim.  vi.  7).  You  shall  sleep  your 
sleep,  and  find  nothing  in  your  hands.  But  these 
things  you  know  well,  and  it  would  be  superfluous 
laboriously  to  teach  them  to  you.  Rather  I  will 
pray  God  that  you  may  have  the  grace  to  fulfil 
in  practice  what  it  has  been  given  you  already  to 
know. 

LETTER   XLVIII 
To  MAGISTER  1  WALTER  DE  CHAUMONT. 

He  exhorts  him  to  flee  from  the  world,  advising  him  to  prefer  the 
cause  and  the  interests  of  his  soul  to  those  of  parents. 

MY  DEAR  WALTER, 

I  often  grieve  my  heart  about  you  whenever 
the  most  pleasant  remembrance  of  you  comes  back 

1  S.  Bernard  usually  designates  thus  Doctors  and  Professors  of  Belles 
Lettres.  See  Letters  77,  106,  and  others.  It  is  thus  that  in  the  Spiri- 
legium  iii.  pp.  137,  140,  Thomas  d'Etampes  is  called  sometimes  Magister, 
sometimes  Doctor.  In  a  MS.  at  the  Vatican  we  read,  "To  Magister 
Gaucher." 


LETTER    XLVIII  209 

to  me,  seeing  how  you  consume  in  vain  occupations 
the  flower  of  your  youth,  the  sharpness  of  your  in 
tellect,  the  store  of  your  learning  and  skill,  and  also, 
what  is  more  excellent  in  a  Christian  than  all  of 
these  gifts,  the  pure  and  innocent  character  which 
distinguishes  you  ;  since  you  use  so  great  endow 
ments  to  serve  not  Christ  their  giver,  but  things 
transitory.  What  if  (which  God  forbid  !)  a  sudden 
death  should  seize  and  shatter  at  a  stroke  all  those 
gifts  of  yours,  as  it  were  with  the  rush  of  a  burning 
and  raging  wind,  just  like  the  winds  whirl  about  and 
dry  grass  or  as  the  leaves  of  herbs  quickly  fall. 
What,  then,  will  you  carry  with  you  of  all  your 
labour  which  you  have  wrought  upon  the  earth  ? 
What  return  will  you  render  unto  the  Lord  for  all 
the  benefits  that  He  hath  done  unto  you  ?  What 
gain  will  you  bring  unto  your  creditor  for  those 
many  talents  committed  to  you  ?  If  He  shall  find 
your  hand  empty,  who,  though  a  liberal  bestower 
of  His  gifts,  exacts  a  strict  account  of  their  use ! 
"  For  he  that  shall  come  will  come  and  will  not 
tarry,  and  will  require  that  which  is  His  own  with 
usury."  For  He  claims  all  as  His  own,  which  seems 
to  ennoble  you  in  your  land,  with  favours  full  at 
once  of  dignity  and  of  danger.  Noble  parentage, 
sound  health,  elegance  of  person,  quick  apprehension, 
useful  knowledge,  uprightness  of  life,  are  glorious 
things,  indeed,  but  they  are  His  from  whom  they 
are.  If  you  use  them  for  yourself  "  there  is  One 
who  seeketh  and  judgeth." 

2.  But  be  it  so;  suppose  that  you  may  for  a 
while  call  these  things  yours,  and  boast  in  the  praise 
they  bring  you,  and  be  called  of  men  Rabbi  and 

O 


210  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

make  for  yourself  a  great  name,  though  only  upon 
the  earth  ;  what  shall  be  left  to  you  after  death  of 
all  these  things  ?  Scarcely  a  remembrance  alone — 
and  that,  too,  only  upon  earth.  For  it  is  written, 
They  have  slept  their  sleep,  and  all  the  men  whose  hands 
were  mighty  have  found  nothing  (Ps.  Ixxvi.  5).  If  this 
be  the  end  of  all  your  labours — allow  me  to  say  so 
— what  have  you  more  than  a  beast  of  burden  ? 
Indeed,  it  will  be  said  even  of  your  palfrey  when 
he  is  dead  that  he  was  good.  Look  to  it,  then,  how 
you  must  answer  it  before  that  terrible  judgment 
throne  if  you  have  received  your  soul  in  vain,  and 
such  a  soul  !  if  you  are  found  to  have  done  nothing 
more  with  your  immortal  and  reasonable  soul  than 
some  beast  with  his.  For  the  soul  of  a  brute  lives 
no  longer  than  the  body  which  it  animates,  and  at 
one  and  the  same  moment  it  both  ceases  to  give  life 
and  to  live.  Of  what  will  you  deem  yourself  worthy, 
who,  being  made  in  the  image  of  your  Creator,  do 
not  guard  the  dignity  of  so  great  a  majesty  ?  And 
being  a  man,1  but  not  understanding  your  honour, 
art  compared  unto  the  foolish  beasts  and  made  like 
unto  them,  seeing  that  forsooth,  you  labour  at  nothing 
of  a  spiritual  or  eternal  nature,  but,  like  the  spirit  of 
a  beast  which  as  soon  as  it  is  loosed  from  the  body 
is  dissolved  with  the  body,  have  been  content  to 
think  of  nothing  but  material  and  temporal  goods, 
turning  a  deaf  ear  to  the  Gospel  precept :  Labour  not 
for  the  meat  that  perisheth,  but  for  that  meat  which  en- 
dureth  unto  everlasting  life  (S.  John  vi.  27).  But  you 
know  well  that  it  is  written  that  only  he  ascends  into 

1  Some  add  "in  honour"  from  Ps.  xlviii.,  but  it  is  wanting  in  the 
MSS.,  and  certainly  is  redundant  here. 


LETTER    XLVIII  211 

the  hill  of  the  Lord  who  hath  not  Lift  up  his  mind 
unto  vanity  (Ps.  xxiv.  3).1  And  not  even  he  except 
he  hath  clean  hands  and  a  pure  heart.  I  leave  you 
to  decide  if  you  dare  to  claim  this  of  your  deeds  and 
thoughts  at  the  present.  But  if  you  are  not  able  to 
do  so,  judge  what  is  the  reward  of  iniquity,  if  mere 
unfruitfulness  is  enough  for  damnation.  And,  indeed, 
the  thorn  or  thistle  will  not  be  safe  when  the  axe 
shall  be  seen  laid  to  the  root  of  the  fruit  tree,  nor 
will  He  spare  the  thorn  which  stings,  who  threatens 
even  the  barren  plant.  Woe,  then  ;  aye !  double 
woe  to  him  of  whom  it  shall  be  said,  /  looked  that 
he  should  bring  forth  grapes,  and  he  hath  brought  forth 
wild  grapes  (Is.  v.  4). 

3.  But  I  know  how  freely  and  fully  you  can 
nourish  these  thoughts,  though  I  be  silent,  but  yet  I 
know  that,  constrained  by  love  of  your  mother,  you 
are  not  as  yet  able  to  abandon  what  you  have  long 
known  how  to  despise.  What  answer  shall  I  make  to 
you  in  this  matter  ?  That  you  should  leave  your 
mother  ?  That  seems  inhuman.  That  you  should 
remain  with  her  ?  But  what  a  misery  for  her  to  be  a 
cause  of  ruin  to  her  son  !  That  you  should  fight  at 
once  for  the  world  and  for  Christ  ?  But  no  man  can 
serve  two  masters.  Your  mother's  wish  being  con 
trary  to  your  salvation  is  equally  so  to  her  own. 
Choose,  therefore,  of  these  two  alternatives  which  you 
will  ;  either,  that  is,  to  secure  the  wish  of  one  or  the 
salvation  of  both.  But  if  you  love  her  much,  have 
the  courage  to  leave  her  for  her  sake,  lest  if  you  leave 
Christ  to  remain  with  her  she  also  perish  on  your 
account.  Else  you  have  ill-served  her  who  bare  you 

1  Hath  not  received  it  in  rain,  Vui.o. 


212  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

if  she  perish  on  your  account.  For  how  doth  she 
escape  destruction  who  hath  ruined  him  whom  she 
bare  ?  And  I  have  spoken  this  in  order  in  some  way 
to  stoop  to  assist  your  somewhat  worldly  affection. 
Moreover,  it  is  a  faithful  saying  and  worthy  of  all 
acceptation,  although  it  is  impious  to  despise  a  mother, 
yet  to  despise  her  for  Christ's  sake  is  most  pious. 
For  He  who  said,  Honour  thy  father  and  mother  (S. 
Matt.  xv.  4),  Himself  also  said,  He  who  loveth  father  or 
mother  more  than  Me  is  not  worthy  of  Me  (S.  Matt.  x.  37). 


LETTER  XLIX 

To  ROMANUS,  SUB-DEACON  OF  THE  ROMAN  CURIA. 

He  urges  upon  him  the  proposal  of  the  religious  life, 
recalling  the  thought  of  death. 

BERNARD,     Abbot    of    Clairvaux,    to     his     dear 
ROMANUS,  as  to  his  friend. 

MY  DEAREST  FRIEND, 

How  good  you  are  to  me  in  renewing  by  a 
letter  the  sweet  recollection  of  yourself  and  in  excus 
ing  my  tiresome  delay.  It  is  not  possible  that  any 
forgetfulness  of  your  affection  could  ever  invade 
the  hearts  of  those  who  love  you  ;  but,  I  confess,  I 
thought  you  had  almost  forgotten  yourself  until  I 
saw  your  letter.  So  now  no  more  delays  ;  fulfil 
quickly  the  promise  that  you  have  written  ;  and  if 
your  pen  truly  expresses  your  purpose,  let  your  acts 
correspond  to  it.  Why  do  you  delay  to  give  birth  to 


LETTER    XLIX  213 

that  spirit  of  salvation  which  you  have  so  long  con 
ceived  ?  Nothing  is  more  certain  to  mortals  than 
death,  nothing  more  uncertain  than  the  hour  of  death, 
since  it  is  to  come  upon  us  as  a  thief  in  the  night. 
Woe  unto  them  who  are  still  with  child  [of  that  good 
intention]  in  that  day  !  If  it  shall  anticipate  and  pre 
vent  this  birth  of  salvation,  alas  !  it  will  pierce  through 
the  house  and  destroy  the  holy  seed :  For  when  they 
shall  say  Peace  and  safety,  then  sudden  destruction  shall 
come  upon  them  as  travail  upon  a  woman  ivith  child,  and 
they  shall  not  escape  (i  Thess.  v.  3).  I  wish  you  not  to 
flee  from  death,  but  only  to  fear  it.  For  the  just, 
though  he  avoids  it  not,  because  he  knows  that  it 
is  inevitable,  yet  does  not  fear  it.  Moreover,  he 
awaits  it  as  a  rest  (Wisdom  iv.  7)  and  receives  it  in 
perfect  security  ;  for  as  it  is  the  exit  from  the  present 
life,  so  it  is  the  entrance  into  a  better.  Death  is  good 
if  by  it  thou  die  to  sin,  that  thou  mayest  live  unto 
righteousness.  It  is  necessary  that  this  death  should 
go  before,  in  order  that  the  other  which  follows  after 
may  be  safe.  In  this  life,  so  long  as  it  lasts,  prepare 
for  yourself  that  life  which  lasts  for  ever.  While  you 
live  in  the  flesh,  die  unto  the  world,  that  after  the 
death  of  the  flesh  you  may  begin  to  live  unto  God. 
For  what  if  death  rend  asunder  the  coarse  envelope  * 
of  your  body  so  long  as  from  that  moment  it  clothes 
you  with  a  garment  of  joy  ?  O,  how  blessed  are  the 
dead  ivhich  die  in  the  Lord  (Apoc.  xiv.  13),  for  they  hear 
from  the  Spirit,  that  "  they  may  rest  from  their 
labours."  And  not  only  so,  but  also  from  new  life 
comes  pleasure,  and  from  eternity  safety.  Happy, 
therefore,  is  the  death  of  the  just  because  of  its  rest  ; 

1  Saccus, 


214  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

better  because  of  its  new  life,  best  because  of  its 
safety  (Ps.  xxxiv.  21).  On  the  other  hand,  worst  of 
all  is  the  death  of  sinners.  And  hear  why  worse.  It 
is  bad,  indeed,  through  loss  of  the  world  ;  it  is  worse 
through  separation  from  the  flesh  ;  worst  of  all 
through  double  pain  of  worm  and  fire.  Up,  then, 
hasten  ;  go  forth  out  of  the  world,  and  renounce  it 
entirely  ;  let  your  soul  die  the  death  of  the  righteous, 
that  your  last  end  also  may  be  like  His :  Oh,  how  dear 
in  the  sight  of  the  Lord  is  the  death  of  His  saints  (Ps.  cxvi. 
13).  Flee,  I  pray  you,  lest  you  stand  in  the  way  of 
sinners.  How  canst  thou  live  where  thou  durst  not 
die?1 


LETTER   L 

To  GEOFFREY,  OF  LISIEUX  - 

He  grieves  at  his  having  abandoned  his  purpose  to  enter  the 
religious  life  and  returned  to  the  world.  He  exhorts  hint 
to  be  wise  again. 

i.  I  am  grieved  for  you,  my  son  Geoffrey,  I  am 
grieved  for  you.  And  not  without  reason.  For  who 
would  not  grieve  that  the  flower  of  your  youth,  which, 
amid  the  joy  of  angels,  you  offered  unimpaired  to 
God  for  the  odour  of  a  sweet  stncll  (P\\\\.  iv.  18),  should 
now  be  trampled  under  the  feet  of  devils,  stained 

1  A  familiar  figure  of  speech  with  Bernard.  See  Letter  107,  §  13  ;  124, 
§  2,  &c. 

-  Some  have  "Luxeuil."  This  word  Ordericus  also  generally  uses  to 
designate  Lisieux,  in  Neustria,  so  that  there  is  no  uniform  distinction  of 
names  between  Lisieux  and  Luxeuil,  in  the  County  of  Burgundy,  found 
among  writers  of  this  period. 


LETTER    L  215 

by  the  filthiness  of  vice  and  the  uncleanness  of  the 
world  ?  How  can  you,  who  once  wast  called  by 
God,  follow  the  devil  who  calls  you  back  ?  How  is 
it  that  you,  whom  Christ  began  to  draw  after  Him 
self,  have  suddenly  withdrawn  your  foot  from  the 
very  threshold  of  glory  ?  In  you  I  now  have  proof 
of  the  truth  of  the  Lord's  word,  when  He  said :  A 
man's  foes  shall  be  they  of  his  own  household  (S.  Matt. 
x.  36).  Your  friends  and  kinsfolk  have  approached 
and  stood  against  you.  They  have  called  you  back 
into  the  jaws  of  the  lion,  and  have  placed  you  once 
more  in  the  gates  of  death.  They  have  placed  you 
in  dark  places,  like  the  dead  of  this  world  ;  and  now 
it  is  a  matter  for  little  surprise  that  you  are  descend 
ing  into  the  belly  of  hell,  which  is  hasting  to  swallow 
you  up,  and  to  give  you  over  as  a  prey  to  be  de 
voured  by  those  who  roar  in  their  hunger. 

2.  Return,  I  pray  you  ;  return  before  the  deep 
swallow  thee  up  and  the  pit  shut  her  mouth  upon  thee 
(Ps.  Ixix.  1 6);  before  you  sink  whence  you  shall 
never  more  rise  ;  before  you  be  bound  hand  and  foot 
and  cast  into  outer  darkness,  where  there  is  weeping  and 
gnashing  of  teeth  (S.  Matt.  xxii.  13);  before  you  be 
thrust  down  to  the  place  of  darkness  and  covered 
with  the  gloom  of  death.  Perhaps  you  blush  to 
return,  because  you  gave  way  for  an  hour.  Blush, 
indeed,  for  your  flight,  but  do  not  blush  to  return  to 
the  battle  after  your  flight,  and  to  fight  again.  The 
fight  is  not  over  yet.  Not  yet  have  the  opposing 
lines  drawn  off  from  each  other.  Victory  is  still  in 
your  power.  If  you  will,  we  are  unwilling  to  con 
quer  without  you,  and  we  do  not  grudge  to  you 
your  share  of  glory.  I  will  even  gladly  come  to 


216  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

meet  you  and  gladly  welcome  you  with  open  arms, 
saying  :  //  is  meet  that  we  should  make  merry  and  be 
glad;  for  this  thy  brother  was  dead  and  is  alive  again  ; 
he  was  lost  and  is  found  (S.  Luke  xv.  32). 


LETTER    LI 

To  THE  VIRGIN  SOPHIA 

He  praises  her  for  having  despised  the  glory  of  the  world :  and, 
setting  forth  the  praises,  privileges,  and  rewards  of  Religious 
Virgins,  exhorts  her  to  persevere. 

BERNARD,  Abbot  of  Clairvaux,  to  the  Virgin 
SOPHIA,  that  she  may  keep  the  title  of  virginity  and 
attain  its  reward. 

i .  Favour  is  deceitful  and  beauty  is  vain  ;  but  a  woman 
thatfeareth  the  Lord,  she  shall  be  praised  (Prov.  xxxi.  31). 
I  rejoice  with  you,  my  daughter,  in  the  glory  of  your 
virtue,  whereby,  as  I  hear,  you  have  been  enabled  to 
reject  the  deceitful  glory  of  the  world.  That,  indeed, 
deserves  rejection  and  disdain.  But  whereas  many 
who  in  other  respects  are  wise,  are  in  their  estimation 
of  worldly  glory  become  foolish,  you  deserve  to  be 
praised  for  not  being  deceived.  It  is  as  the  flower  of 
the  grass — (James  i.  10) — a  vapour  that  appeareth  for  a 
little  time  (S.  James  iv.  14).  And  every  degree  of  that 
glory  is  without  doubt  more  full  of  care  than  joy. 
At  one  time  you  have  claims  to  advance,  at  another, 
yourself  to  defend  ;  you  envy  others,  or  are  suspicious 
of  them  ;  you  are  continually  aiming  to  acquire  what 
you  do  not  possess,  and  the  passion  for  acquiring  is 


LETTER    LI  217 

not  satisfied  even  by  success  ;  and  as  long  as  this  is 
the  case,  what  rest  is  there  in  your  glory  ?  But  if 
any  there  be,  its  enjoyment  quickly  passes,  never  to 
return  ;  while  care  remains,  never  to  leave.  Be 
sides,  see  how  many  fail  to  attain  that  enjoyment, 
and  yet  how  few  despise  it.  Why  so  ?  Just  because 
though  many  of  necessity  endure  it  [/'.<?.,  the  depriva 
tion  of  pleasure],  yet  but  few  make  of  doing  so  a 
virtue.  Few,  I  say,  very  few,  and  particularly  of  the 
nobly-born.  Indeed,  not  many  noble  are  called;  but  God 
hath  chosen  the  base  things  of  the  world  (i  Cor.  i.  26-28). 
You  are,  then,  blessed  and  privileged  among  women 
of  your  rank  in  that,  while  others  strive  in  rivalry 
for  worldly  glory,  you  by  your  contempt  of  this  glory 
are  raised  to  a  greater  height  of  glory,  and  are  ele 
vated  by  glory  of  a  higher  kind.  Certainly  you  are 
the  more  renowned  and  illustrious  for  having  made 
yourself  voluntarily  humble  than  for  your  birth  in 
a  high  rank.  For  the  one  is  your  own  achievement 
by  the  grace  of  God,  the  other  is  the  doing  of  your 
ancestors.  And  that  which  is  your  own  is  the  more 
precious,  as  it  is  the  most  rare.  For  if  among  men 
virtue  is  rare — a  "  rare  bird  on  the  earth  " — how 
much  rarer  is  it  in  the  case  of  a  weak  woman  of  high 
birth  ?  Who  can  find  a  virtuous  woman  ?  (Prov.  xxxi.  i  o). 
Much  more  "  a  virtuous  woman "  of  high  birth  as 
well.  Although  God  is  not  by  any  means  an  accepter 
of  persons,  yet,  I  know  not  how,  virtue  is  more  pleasing 
in  those  of  noble  birth.  Perhaps  that  may  be  because 
it  is  more  conspicuous.  For  if  a  man  is  of  mean 
birth  and  is  devoid  of  glory,  it  is  not  easily  clear 
whether  he  lacks  virtue  because  he  does  not  wish  for 
it  or  because  he  cannot  attain  it.  I  honour  virtue 


218  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

won  under  stress  of  necessity.  But  I  honour  more 
the  virtue  which  a  free  choice  adopts  than  that  which 
necessity  imposes. 

2.  Let  other  women,  then,  who  have  not  any  other 
hope,  contend  for  the  cheap,  fleeting,  and  paltry  glory 
of  things  that  vanish  and  deceive.  Do  you  cling  to 
the  hope  that  confounds  not.  Do  you  keep  yourself, 
I  say,  for  that  far  more  exceeding  weight  of  glory,  which 
our  light  affliction,  which  is  but  for  a  moment,  worketh 
(2  Cor.  iv.  17)  for  you  on  high.  And  if  the  daughters 
of  Belial  reproach  you,  those  who  walk  with  stretched 
forth  necks  mincing  as  they  go  (Isaiah  iii.  16),  decked  out 
and  adorned  like  the  Temple,  answer  them  :  My  king 
dom  is  not  of  this  world  (S.  John  xviii.  36)  ;  answer 
them :  My  time  is  not  yet  come,  but  your  time  is  always 
ready  (S.  John  vii.  6)  ;  answer  them  :  My  glory  is  hid  with 
Christ  in  God  (Col.  iii.  3)  ;  When  Christ,  who  is  my  life, 
shall  appear,  then  shall  I  also  appear  with  Him  in  glory 
(Col.  iii.  4).  And  yet  if  one  needs  must  glory,  you 
also  may  glory  freely  and  fearlessly,  only  in  the  Lord. 
I  omit  the  crown  which  the  Lord  hath  prepared  for 
you  for  ever.  I  say  nothing  of  the  promises  which 
await  you  hereafter,  that  as  a  happy  bride  you  are  to 
be  admitted  to  behold  with  open  face  the  glory  of 
your  Bridegroom  ;  that  He  will  present  you  to  Himself 
a  glorious  bride,  not  having  spot  or  wrinkle  or  any  such 
thing  (Eph.  v.  27)  ;  that  He  will  receive  you  in  an 
everlasting  embrace,  will  place  His  left  hand  under  your 
head  and  His  right  hand  shall  embrace  you  (Cant.  ii.  6). 
I  pass  over  the  appointed  place,  which  being  set 
apart  by  the  prerogative  of  virginity,  you  shall  without 
doubt  gain  among  sons  and  daughters  in  the  king 
dom.  I  say  nothing  of  that  new  song  which  you,  a 


LETTER    LI  219 

virgin  among  virgins,  shall  likewise  sing  in  tones  of 
unrivalled  sweetness,  rejoicing  therein  and  making 
glad  the  city  of  God,  singing  and  running  and  follow 
ing  the  Lamb  whithersoever  he  goeth.  In  fact,  eye  hath 
not  seen  nor  ear  heard,  neither  have  entered  into  the  heart 
of  man  the  things  which  He  hath  prepared  ( I  Cor.  ii.  9) 
for  you,  and  for  which  it  behoves  you  to  be  pre 
pared. 

3.  All  this  I  omit,  that  is  laid  up  for  you  hereafter. 
I  speak  only  of  the  present,  of  those  things  which 
you  already  have,  of  the  first  fruits  of  the  Spirit  (Rom. 
viii.  23),  the  gifts  of  the  Bridegroom,  the  earnest 
money  of  the  espousals,  the  blessings  of  goodness  (Ps. 
xxi.  3),  wherewith  he  hath  prevented  you,  whom  you 
may  expect  to  follow  after  you,  and  complete  what 
still  is  lacking.  Let  Him,  yea  let  Him,  come  forth 
to  be  beheld  in  His  great  beauty,  so  adorned  as  to 
be  admired  of  the  very  angels,  and  if  the  daughters 
of  Babylon,  whose  glory  is  in  their  shame  (Phil.  iii.  19), 
have  aught  like  Him,  let  them  bring  it  forth,  Though 
they  be  clothed  in  purple  and  fine  linen  (S.  Luke  xvi.  19). 
Yet  their  souls  are  in  rags ;  they  have  sparkling  neck 
laces,  but  tarnished  minds.  You,  on  the  other  hand, 
though  ragged  without,  are  all  glorious  within  (Ps.  xlv. 
14),  though  to  Divine  and  not  human  gaze.  Within 
you  have  that  which  delights  you,  for  He  is  within 
whom  it  delights  ;  for  certainly  you  do  not  doubt 
that  you  have  Christ  dwelling  in  your  heart  by  faith 
(Eph.  iii.  17).  In  truth,  The  King's  daughter  is  all 
glorious  within  (Ps.  xlv.  14).  Rejoice  greatly,  O  daughter 
of  Zion :  shout,  O  daughter  of  Jerusalem,  because  the 
King  hath  desired  thy  beauty  ;  if  than  art  clothed  with 
confession  and  honour  (Ps.  civ.  i,  VULG.),  and  deckest 


220  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

thyself  with  light  as  it  were  with  a  garment — For  con 
fession  and  worship  arc  before  Him  (Ps.  xcvi.  6,  VuLG.). 
Before  whom  ?  Him  who  is  fairer  than  the  sons  of 
men  (Ps.  xlv.  3),  even  Him  whom  the  angels  desire 
to  look  upon. 

4.  You  hear,  then,  to  whom  you  are  pleasing. 
Love  that  which  enables  you  to  please,  love  "  con 
fession,"  if  you  desire  "  honour."  "  Confession  "  is 
the  handmaid  of  "  honour,"  the  handmaid  of  "  wor 
ship."  Both  are  for  you.  "Thou  art  clothed  with 
confession  and  honour,"  and  "Confession  and  worship 
are  before  Him."  In  truth,  where  confession  is,  there 
is  worship,  and  there  is  honour.  If  there  are  sins, 
they  are  washed  away  in  confession  ;  if  there  are 
good  works,  they  are  commended  by  confession. 
When  you  confess  your  faults,  it  is  a  sacrifice  to  God 
of  a  troubled  spirit  ;  when  you  confess  the  benefits 
of  God,  you  offer  to  God  the  sacrifice  of  praise. 
Confession  is  a  fair  ornament  of  the  soul,  which 
both  cleanses  a  sinner  and  makes  the  righteous 
more  thoroughly  cleansed.  Without  confession  the 
righteous  is  deemed  ungrateful,  and  the  sinner  ac 
counted  dead.  Confession  perisheth  from  the  dead  as 
from  one  that  is  not  (Ecclus.  xvii.  28).  Confession, 
therefore,  is  the  life  of  the  sinner,  the  glory  of  the 
righteous.  It  is  necessary  to  the  sinner,  it  is  equally 
proper  to  the  righteous.  For  it  becometh  well  the  just 
to  be  thankful  (Ps.  xxxiii.  i).  Silk  and  purple  and 
rouge  and  paint  have  beauty,  but  impart  it  not. 
Every  such  thing  that  you  apply  to  the  body  exhibits 
its  own  loveliness,  but  leaves  it  not  behind.  It  takes 
the  beauty  with  it,  when  the  thing  itself  is  taken  away. 
For  the  beauty  that  is  put  on  with  a  garment  and  is 


LETTER    LI  221 

put  off  with  the  garment,  belongs  without  doubt  to 
the  garment,  and  not  to  the  wearer  of  it. 

5.  Do  not  you,  therefore,  emulate  those  evil  dis 
posed  persons  who,  as  mendicants,  seek  an  extraneous 
beauty  when  they  have  lost  their  own.  They  only 
betray  how  destitute  they  are  of  any  proper  and 
native  beauty,  when  at  such  great  labour  and  cost 
they  study  to  furnish  themselves  outside  with  the 
many  and  various  graces  of  the  fashion  of  the  world 
which  passeth  away,  just  that  they  may  appear  grace 
ful  in  the  eyes  of  fools.  Deem  it  a  thing  unworthy 
of  you  to  borrow  your  attractiveness  from  the  furs 
of  animals  and  the  toils  of  worms  ;  let  your  own 
suffice  you.  For  that  is  the  true  and  proper  beauty 
of  anything,  which  it  has  in  itself  without  the  aid 
of  any  substance  besides.  Oh  !  how  lovely  the  flush 
with  which  the  jewel  of  inborn  modesty  colours  a 
virgin's  cheeks  !  Can  the  earrings  of  queens  be  com 
pared  to  this  ?  And  self-discipline  confers  a  mark  of 
equal  beauty.  How  self-discipline  calms  the  whole 
aspect  of  a  maiden's  bearing,  her  whole  temper  of 
mind.  It  bows  the  neck,  smooths  the  proud  brows, 
composes  the  countenance,  restrains  the  eyes,  re 
presses  laughter,  checks  the  tongue,  tempers  the 
appetite,  assuages  wrath,  and  guides  the  deportment. 
With  such  pearls  of  modesty  should  your  robe  be 
decked.  When  virginity  is  girt  with  divers  colours 
such  as  these,  is  there  any  glory  to  which  it  is  not 
rightly  preferred  ?  The  Angelic  ?  An  angel  has 
virginity,  indeed,  but  not  flesh  ;  and  in  that  respect 
his  happiness  exceeds  his  virtue.  Surely  that  adorn 
ment  is  best  and  most  desirable  which  even  an  angel 
might  envy. 


222  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

6.  There  remains  still  one  more  remark  to  be 
made  about  the  adornment  of  the  Christian  virgin. 
The  more  peculiarly  your  own  it  is,  the  more  secure 
it  remains  to  you.  You  see  women  of  the  world 
burdened,  rather  than  adorned,  with  gold,  silver, 
precious  stones  ;  in  short,  with  all  the  raiment  of  a 
palace.  You  see  how  they  draw  long  trains  behind 
them,  and  those  of  the  most  costly  materials,  and 
raise  thick  clouds  of  dust  into  the  air.  Let  not  such 
things  disturb  you.  They  must  lay  them  aside  when 
they  come  to  die  ;  but  the  holiness  which  is  your 
possession  will  not  forsake  you.  The  things  which 
they  wear  are  really  not  their  own.  When  they  die 
they  can  take  nothing  with  them,  nor  will  this  their 
glory  go  down  with  them.  The  world,  whose  such 
things  are,  will  keep  them  and  dismiss  the  wearers 
naked  ;  and  will  beguile  with  them  others  equally 
vain.  But  that  adornment  of  yours  is  not  of  such 
sort.  As  I  said,  you  may  be  quite  sure  that  it  will 
not  leave  you,  because  it  is  your  own.  You  cannot 
be  deprived  of  it  by  the  violence,  nor  defrauded  of  it 
by  the  deceit  of  any  man.  Against  such  possessions 
the  cunning  of  the  thief  and  the  cruelty  of  the  tyrant 
avail  nothing.  It  is  not  eaten  of  moths,  nor  corrupted 
by  age,  nor  spent  by  use.  It  lives  on  even  in  death. 
Indeed,  it  belongs  to  the  soul  and  not  to  the  body  ; 
and  for  this  reason  it  leaves  the  body  together  with 
the  soul,  and  does  not  perish  with  the  body.  And 
even  those  who  kill  the  body  have  absolutely  nothing 
that  they  can  do  to  the  soul. 


LETTER    LI  I  223 

LETTER   LII 

TO    ANOTHER    HOLY    VIRGIN. 

Under  a  religious  habit  she  had  continued  to  have  a  spirit  given 
up  to  the  world,  and  Bernard  praises  her  for  coming  to  a 
sense  of  her  duty ;  he  exhorts  her  not  to  neglect  the  grace 
given  to  her. 

i.  It  is  the  source  of  great  joy  to  me  to  hear  that 
you  are  willing  to  strive  after  that  true  and  perfect 
joy,  which  belongs  not  to  earth  but  to  heaven  ;  that 
is,  not  to  this  vale  of  tears,  but  to  that  city  of  God 
which  the  rivers  of  the  flood  thereof  make  glad  (Ps.  xlvi. 
4).  And  in  very  truth  that  is  the  true  and  only  joy 
which  is  won,  not  from  the  creature,  but  from  the 
Creator  ;  which,  if  once  you  possess  it,  no  man  shall 
take  from  you.  For,  compared  with  it,  all  joy  from 
other  sources  is  sorrow,  all  pleasure  is  pain,  all  sweet 
ness  is  bitter,  all  beauty  is  mean,  everything  else,  in 
fine,  whatever  may  have  power  to  please,  is  irksome. 
Indeed,  you  are  my  witness  in  this  matter.  Ask 
yourself,  for  you  will  believe  yourself  more  readily. 
Does  not  the  Holy  Spirit  proclaim  this  very  truth  in 
your  heart  ?  Have  you  not  been  persuaded  of  the 
truth  hereof  by  Him  long  before  I  spoke  ?  For  how 
would  you,  being  a  woman,  or  rather  a  young  girl 
so  fair  and  ingenuous,  have  thus  overcome  the  weak 
ness  of  your  sex  and  years  ;  how  could  you  thus 
hold  cheap  your  extreme  beauty  and  noble  birth, 
unless  all  such  things  as  are  subject  to  the  bodily 
senses  were  already  vile  in  your  eyes,  in  comparison 
with  those  which  inwardly  strengthen  you  to  over- 


224  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

come  the  earthly,  and  charm  you  to  prefer   things 
heavenly  ? 

2.  And  this  is  right.  Poor  and  transient  and 
earthly  are  the  things  which  you  despise,  but  the 
things  you  wish  for  are  grand,  heavenly,  and  ever 
lasting.  I  will  say  still  more,  and  still  speak  the 
truth.  You  leave  the  darkness  to  approach  the  light ; 
you  come  forth  from  the  depth  of  the  sea  and  gain 
the  harbour  ;  you  breathe  again  in  happy  freedom 
after  a  wretched  slavery ;  in  a  word,  you  pass  from 
death  to  life  ;  though  up  till  now,  living  according  to 
your  own  will  and  not  God's,  to  your  own  law  and 
not  that  of  God,  while  living  you  were  dead — living 
to  the  world,  but  dead  to  God  ;  or  rather,  to  speak 
more  truly,  living  neither  to  the  world  nor  to  God. 
For  when  you  wished  while  wearing  the  habit  and 
name  of  religion  to  live  like  one  in  the  world,  you 
alone  had  rejected  God  from  you  by  your  own  wish. 
But  when  you  could  not  effect  your  foolish  wish, 
then  it  was  not  you  that  rejected  the  world,  but  the 
world  you.  And  so,  rejecting  God  and  rejected  by 
the  world,  you  had  fallen  between  two  stools,1  as 
they  say.  You  were  not  living  unto  God,  because 
you  would  not,  nor  to  the  world,  because  you  could 
not :  you  were  anxious  for  one,  unwelcome  to  the 
other,  and  yet  dead  to  both.  So  it  must  happen  to 
those  who  promise  and  do  not  perform,  who  make 
one  show  to  the  world,  and  in  their  hearts  desire 
something  else.  But  now,  by  the  mercy  of  God, 

1  Compare  in  this  place  Imitation  of  Christ,  Bk.  i.  c.  25.  "A  religious 
person  who  has  become  slothful  and  lukewarm  has  trouble  upon  trouble, 
and  suffers  anguish  on  every  side,  because  he  lacks  consolation  from 
within,  and  is  debarred  from  seeking  it  without."  Read  also  Sermons  3 
and  5  upon  the  Ascension. 


LETTER    LII  225 

you  are  beginning  to  live  again,  not  to  sin,  but  to 
righteousness,  not  to  the  world,  but  to  Christ,  know 
ing  that  to  live  to  the  world  is  death,  and  even  to  die 
in  Christ  is  life.  Blessed  are  the  dead  which  die  in  the 
Lord  (Rev.  xiv.  13). 

3.  So  from  this  time  I  shall  not  mention  again 
your  unfulfilled  vow,  nor  your  disregard  of  your 
profession.  From  henceforth  your  purity  of  body 
will  not  be  impaired  by  a  corrupt  mind,  nor  your 
name  of  virgin  disgraced  by  disorderly  conduct  ; 
from  henceforth  the  name  you  bear  will  not  be  a 
deception,  nor  the  veil  you  wear  meaningless.  For 
why  hitherto  have  you  been  addressed  as  "  nun  " * 
and  "  holy  virgin "  when,  professing  holiness,  you 
did  not  live  holily  ?  Why  did  you  let  the  veil  on 
your  head  give  a  false  impression  of  the  reverence 
due  to  you,  while  your  eye  launched  burning  and 
passionate  glances  ?  Your  head  was  clothed,  indeed, 
with  a  veil,  but  it  was  lifted  up  with  pride,  and 
though  you  were  under  the  symbol  of  modesty, 
your  speech  sounded  far  from  modest.  Your  im 
moderate  laughter,  unreserved  demeanour,  and  showy 
dress  would  have  accorded  better  with  the  wimple  2 

1  This  expression  is  borrowed  from  the  Rule  of  S.  Benedict,  in  which  it 
is  said  that  the  younger  shall  call  their  elders  nonna  (in  monasteries  for 
men  noitnits),  Chap.  Ixiii. 

2  Wimple.     So  all  the  MS.  codices  that  I  have  seen,  viz.,  at  the  Royal 
Library,  Colbert  Library,  Sorbonne,  Royal  College  of  Navarre,  S.  Victor 
of  Paris  MS.,  MS.  of  Compiegne,  and  others  at  other  libraries,  which  have 
"with  the  wimple"  (wimplaUt),  though  all  editions  except  two  (viz.,  that 
of  Paris,  1494,  and  of  Lyons,  1530)  have  "one  puffed  up"  (uni  inflata). 
They  ask  what  "with  the  wimple"  (wimplatae)  means.     Of  course  it  is  a 
word  formed  from  wimple  or  guimple,  owing  to  the  easy  change  of  g  to  w. 
In    French    "guimpe"   or    "guimple"   is   a   woman's   head-dress,    once 
common  with  women  of  noble  birth  (as  we  learn  from  the  old  pictures  of 

P 


226  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

than  the  veil.  But  behold  now,  at  the  bidding  of 
Christ,  the  old  things  have  passed  away,  and  all 
things  begin  to  be  made  new,  since  you  are  changing 
the  care  of  the  body  for  that  of  the  soul,  and  are 
desirous  of  a  beautiful  life  more  than  beautiful 
raiment.  You  are  doing  what  you  ought  to  do,  or 
rather  what  you  ought  to  have  done  long  ago,  for 
long  ago  you  had  vowed  to  do  it.  But  the  Spirit, 
who  breathes  not  only  where  He  will  but  when  He 
will,  had  not  then  breathed  on  you,  and  so,  perhaps, 
you  are  to  be  excused  for  what  you  have  done 
hitherto.  But  if  you  suffer  the  ardent  zeal  wherewith, 
beyond  a  doubt,  your  heart  is  now  hot  again,  and 
the  divine  flame  that  burns  in  your  thoughts,  to  be 
quenched,  what  remains  for  you  but  the  certain 
knowledge  that  you  must  be  destined  for  that  flame 
which  cannot  be  quenched.  Nay,  let  the  same  Spirit 
rather  quench  in  you  all  carnal  affections,  lest  haply 
(which  God  forbid  !)  the  holy  desires  of  your  soul, 
so  late  conceived,  should  be  stifled  by  them,  and  you 
yourself  be  cast  into  hell  fire. 

noble  ladies),  but  the  more  simple  and  modest  refrained  from  wearing 
it.  So  we  read  in  the  French  poet,  contained  in  Borellus'  Glossartum 
Gallicum : — 

Moult  fut  humiliant  et  simple 

Elle  cut  une  voile  en  lieu  de  guimple. 

Which  may  be  rendered — 

She  was  a  lowly  girl  and  simple, 
And  wore  a  veil  in  place  of  wimple. 

Now,  however,  the  word  "  wimple"  is  scarcely  heard  outside  the  cloisters 
of  nuns. 


LETTER    LI  1 1  227 


LETTER   LIII 

TO    ANOTHER    HOLY    VIRGIN    OF    THE    CONVENT 

OF  S.  MARY  OF  TROVES  l 

He  dissuades  her  from  the  rash  and  imprudent  design  which 
she  had  in  her  mind  of  retiring  into  some  solitude. 

i.  I  am  told  that  you  are  wishing  to  leave  your 
convent,  impelled  by  a  longing  for  a  more  ascetic 
life,  and  that  after  spending  all  their  efforts  to  dis 
suade  and  prevent  you,  seeing  that  you  paid  no 
heed  to  them,  your  spiritual  mother  or  your  sisters, 
determined  at  length  to  seek  my  advice  on  the  matter, 
so  that  whatever  course  I  approved,  that  you  might 
feel  it  your  duty  to  adopt.  You  ought,  of  course,  to 
have  chosen  some  more  learned  man  as  an  adviser  ; 
yet  since  it  is  my  advice  you  desire  to  have,  I  do  not 
conceal  from  you  what  I  think  the  better  course. 
Ever  since  I  learnt  your  wish,  though  I  have  been 
turning  the  matter  over  in  my  mind,  I  cannot  easily 
venture  to  decide  what  temper  of  mind  suggested  it. 
For  you  may  in  this  thing  have  a  zeal  towards  God, 
so  that  your  purpose  may  be  excusable.  But  how 
such  a  wish  as  yours  can  be  fulfilled  consistently 
with  prudence  I  entirely  fail  to  see.  "  Why  so  ? " 
you  ask.  "  Is  it  not  wise  for  me  to  flee  from  wealth 
and  the  throng  of  cities,  and  from  the  good  cheer 
and  pleasure  of  life  ?  Shall  I  not  keep  my  purity 

1  This  convent  still  exists  under  the  rule  of  S.  Benedict.  It  had  lately 
been,  as  Bernard  testifies,  the  object  of  a  reform  when  he  wrote. — 
[Mabillon's  note.] 


228  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

more  safely  in  the  desert,  where  I  can  live  in  peace 
with  just  a  few,  or  even  alone,  and  please  Him  alone 
to  whom  I  have  pledged  myself  ? "  By  no  means. 
If  one  would  live  in  an  evil  manner,  the  desert  brings 
abundant  opportunity  :  the  wood  a  protecting  shade, 
and  solitude  silence.  The  evil  that  no  one  sees,  no 
one  reproves.  Where  no  critic  is  feared,  there  the 
tempter  gains  easier  access,  there  wickedness  is  more 
readily  committed.  It  is  otherwise  in  a  convent.  If 
you  do  anything  good  no  one  prevents  you,  but  if 
you  would  do  evil  you  are  hindered  by  many 
obstacles.  If  you  yield  to  temptation,  it  is  at  once 
known  to  many,  and  is  reproved  and  corrected.  So, 
on  the  other  hand,  when  you  are  seen  to  do  anything 
good,  all  admire,  revere,  and  copy  it.  You  see,  then, 
my  daughter,  that  in  a  convent  a  larger  renown 
awaits  your  good  deeds,  and  a  more  speedy  rebuke 
your  faults,  because  there  are  others  there  to  whom 
you  may  set  an  example  by  good  deeds  and  whom 
you  will  offend  by  evil. 

2.  But  I  will  take  away  from  you  every  excuse  for 
your  error,  by  that  alternative  in  the  parable  we  read 
in  the  Gospel.  Either  you  are  one  of  the  foolish 
virgins,  if,  indeed,  you  are  a  virgin,  or  one  of  the 
wise  (S.  Matt.  xxv.  1-12).  If  you  are  one  of  the 
foolish,  the  convent  is  necessary  to  you  ;  if  of  the 
wise,  you  are  necessary  to  the  convent.  For  if  you 
are  wise  and  well-approved,  without  doubt  the  reform 
which,  though  newly  introduced  into  that  place,  has 
already  won  universal  praise,  will  be  greatly  dis 
credited,  and,  I  fear,  be  weakened  by  your  departure. 
It  will  not  fail  to  be  said  that,  being  good  yourself, 
you  would  not  desert  a  house  where  the  Rule  was 


LETTER    LIII  229 

well  carried  out.1  If  you  have  been  known  to  be 
foolish,  and  you  go  away,  we  shall  say  that  since 
you  are  not  suffered  to  live  an  evil  life  among  good 
companions,  you  could  not  endure  longer  the  society 
of  holy  women,  and  are  seeking  a  dwelling  where 
you  may  live  in  your  own  way.  And  we  shall  be 
quite  right.  For  before  the  reform  of  the  Rule  you 
never,  I  am  told,  were  wont  to  talk  of  this  plan  ;  but 
no  sooner  did  observances  become  stricter,  than  you, 
too,  became  suddenly  holier,  and  in  hot  haste  to 
think  of  the  desert.  I  see,  my  daughter,  I  see  in 
this,  and  I  would  you  also  saw  as  I  do,  the  serpent's 
venom,  the  guile  of  the  crafty  one,  and  the  trickery 
of  his  changing  skin.  The  wolf  dwells  in  the  wood. 
If  a  poor  little  sheep  like  you  should  enter  the  shades 
of  the  wood  alone  you  would  be  simply  seeking  to 
be  his  prey.  But  listen  to  me,  my  daughter  ;  listen 
to  my  faithful  warning.  Whether  sinner  or  saint, 
do  not  separate  yourself  from  the  flock,  lest  the 
enemy  seize  upon  you,  and  there  be  none  to  deliver 
you.  Are  you  a  saint  ?  Strive  by  your  example  to 
gain  associates  in  sanctity.  A  sinner  ?  Do  not  add 
sin  to  sin,  but  do  penance  where  you  are,  lest  by 
departing,  not  without  danger,  as  I  have  shown,  to 
yourself,  you  bring  scandal  upon  your  sisters,  and 
provoke  the  tongues  of  may  scoffers  against  you. 

1  Cf.  the  French  equivalent  "  Le  bon  ordre,"  i.e.,  the  strict  Rule  of 
Monastic  Life. 


230  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

LETTER    LIV 

To  ERMENGARDE,  FORMERLY  COUNTESS  OF  BRITTANY  l 

He  gently  and  tenderly  assures  her  that  he  has  for  her  all 
the  sentiments  of  pure  and  religious  affection, 

To  his  beloved  daughter  in  Christ,  ERMENGARDE, 
once  the  most  noble  Countess,  now  the  humble  hand 
maid  of  Christ,  BERNARD,  Abbot  of  Clairvaux,  offers 
the  pious  affection  of  holy  love. 

Would  that,  as  I  now  open  this  page  before  me, 
so  I  could  open  my  mind  to  you  !  Oh  !  that  you 
could  read  in  my  heart  what  God  has  deigned  to 
write  there  with  His  own  finger  concerning  my 

1  She  was  the  wife  of  Count  Alan,  and  a  great  benefactress  to  Clairvaux. 
She  built  the  monks  a  monastery  near  the  town  of  Nantes  (see  Ernald, 
Life  of  S.  Bernard,  ii.  34,  and  according  to  Mabillon's  Chronology, 
1135  A.D.).  The  name  of  the  monastery  is  Buzay ;  it  is  presided  over  by 
the  most  illustrious  Abbot  Caumartin,  who  has  communicated  to  me  the 
first  charter  founding  the  convent.  In  this  charter  Duke  Conan,  son  of 
Alan  and  Ermengarde,  asserts  that  he  and  his  mother  had  determined  to 
build  the  Abbey  of  Buzay,  but  that,  misled  by  evil  counsel  of  certain 
persons,  they  had  desisted  from  their  undertaking.  At  length  Bernard, 
Abbot  of  Clairvaux,  came  into  those  parts.  The  House  of  Buzay  was 
dependent  upon  his  abbey.  Bernard,  seeing  the  place  almost  desolate, 
was  deeply  grieved,  "  and,"  says  Conan,  "rebuked  me  with  the  most 
severe  reproofs  as  false  and  perfidious ;  and  then  ordered  the  abbot  and 
monks  who  tarried  there  to  abandon  the  place  and  return  to  Clairvaux." 
Conan  interposed,  and  after  restoring  the  property  of  the  monastery  which 
he  had  taken  away,  took  steps  for  the  completion  of  the  building.  The 
charter  is  signed  by  Bishops  Roland,  of  Vannes  ;  Alan,  of  Rennes  ;  John, 
of  St.  Malo  ;  Iterius,  of  Nantes ;  and  also  by  Peter,  Abbot  of  the  monas 
tery,  and  Andrew,  a  monk.  But  to  return  to  Ermengarde.  Godfrey, 
Abbot  of  Vendome  (Bk.  v.  Letter  23),  urges  her  to  resume  her  purpose  of 
entering  the  religious  life,  which  she  appears  to  have  abandoned.  The 
same  Godfrey,  in  the  next  Letter,  speaks  of  her  as  of  royal  blood. 


LETTER    LV  231 

affection  for  you  !  Then,  indeed,  you  might  under 
stand,  how  no  tongue  or  pen  can  suffice  to  express, 
what  the  spirit  of  God  hath  been  able  to  impress  on 
my  inmost  heart !  And  even  now  I  am  present  with 
you  in  the  spirit,  though  absent  in  the  body.  It  is 
neither  in  your  power  nor  mine  to  be  in  the  presence 
of  the  other.  Yet  you  have  with  you  the  means 
whereby  you  may  not  yet  know,  but  at  any  rate  guess 
what  I  mean.  Within  your  own  heart  behold  mine  ; 
and  ascribe  to  me  as  great  affection  toward  you 
as  you  know  to  be  in  yourself  towards  me.  Yet  do 
not  think  that  you  have  more  for  me  than  I  for  you  ; 
nor  have  a  better  opinion  of  your  own  heart  than  of 
mine,  in  respect  of  affection.  Besides,  you  are  too 
humble  and  modest  not  to  believe  that  He  who  has 
brought  you  so  to  love  me  and  to  follow  my  counsel 
for  your  salvation  has  inspired  me  also  with  feelings 
of  affectionate  concern  for  you.  So  you  are  thinking 
how  you  may  keep  me  with  you  ;  and  I,  to  confess 
the  truth,  am  nowhere  without  you  or  away  from 
you.  I  was  anxious  to  write  this  short  note  to  you 
about  my  journey  while  on  the  way,  hoping  to  send 
you  a  longer  one  when  I  have  more  leisure,  if  God 
will. 

LETTER     LV 

To  THE  SAME 

He  commends  her  readiness  in  God's  service,  and 
expresses  his  desire  to  see  her. 

I  have  received  the  joy  of  my  heart,  good  news 
from  you.      I  am  happy  to  hear  of  your  happiness  ; 


232  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

and  your  ready  service,  now  so  well  known,  makes 
me  quite  easy  in  mind.  This  great  happiness  comes 
in  no  way  from  flesh  and  blood,  for  you  are  living 
in  lowliness  instead  of  state,  in  mean,  not  high  place, 
in  poverty  instead  of  wealth.  You  are  deprived  of 
the  consolation  of  living  in  your  own  country,  and 
of  the  society  of  your  brother  and  your  son.  With 
out  doubt,  then,  the  willing  devotion  that  hath  been 
born  in  you  is  the  work  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  You 
have  long  since  conceived  by  the  fear  of  God  the 
design  of  labouring  for  your  salvation,  and  have  at 
last  brought  your  design  to  execution,  the  spirit  of 
love  casting  out  fear  in  your  soul.  How  much  more 
gladly  would  I  be  present  to  say  this  to  you,  than  be 
absent  and  write  !  Believe  me,  I  am  annoyed  at  my 
business,  which  constantly  seems  to  hinder  me  from 
the  sight  of  you  ;  and  I  hail  with  joy  the  chances, 
which  I  seldom  seem  to  get,  of  seeing  you.  Such 
opportunities  are  rare  ;  but,  I  confess,  their  very  rarity 
makes  them  sweet.  For,  indeed,  it  is  better  to  see 
you  just  sometimes  than  never  at  all.  I  hope  to 
come  unto  you  shortly  ;  and  I  already  offer  you  a 
foretaste  of  the  joy  that  shall  shortly  come  in  full. 


LETTER   LVI 

To  BEATRICE,  A  NOBLE  AND  RELIGIOUS  LADY 

He  commends  her  love  and  anxious  care. 

1  wonder  at  your  zealous  devotion  and  loving 
affection  towards  me.  I  ask,  excellent  lady,  what 
can  possibly  inspire  in  you  such  great  interest  and 


LETTER    LVI  233 

solicitude  for  us  ?  If  we  had  been  sons  or  grand 
sons,  if  we  had  been  united  to  you  by  the  most 
distant  tie  of  relationship,  your  constant  kindnesses, 
frequent  visits,  in  a  word,  the  numberless  proofs  of 
your  affection  that  we  experience  daily,  would  seem 
to  deserve,  not  so  much  our  wonder,  as  our  accept 
ance  as  a  matter  of  obligation.  But  as,  in  common 
with  the  rest  of  mankind,  we  recognize  in  you  only  a 
great  lady,  and  not  a  mother,  the  wonder  is  not  that 
we  should  wonder  at  your  goodness,  but  that  we  can 
wonder  sufficiently.  For  who  of  our  kinsfolk  and 
acquaintances  takes  care  of  us  ?  Who  ever  asks  of 
our  health  ?  Who,  I  ask,  is,  I  will  not  say  anxious, 
but  even  mindful  of  us  in  the  world  ?  We  are  be 
come,  as  it  were,  a  broken  vessel  to  friends,  relatives, 
and  neighbours.  You  alone  cannot  forget  us.  You 
ask  of  the  state  and  condition  of  my  health,  of  the 
journey  I  have  just  accomplished,  of  the  monks  whom 
I  have  transferred  to  another  place.  Of  them  I  may 
briefly  reply,  that  out  of  a  desert  land,  from  a  place 
of  grim  and  vast  solitude,  they  have  been  brought 
into  a  place  where  nothing  is  wanting  to  them, 
neither  possessions,  nor  buildings,  nor  friends ;  into 
a  rich  land  and  a  lovely  dwelling-place.  I  left  them 
happy  and  peaceful ;  in  happiness  and  peace,  too, 
I  returned  ;  except  that  for  a  few  days  I  was  troubled 
with  so  severe  a  return  of  fever  that  I  was  in  fear  of 
death.  But  by  God's  mercy  I  soon  got  well  again, 
so  that  now  I  think  I  am  stronger  and  better  after 
my  journey  is  over  than  before  it  began. 


234  s-    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

LETTER   LVII 
To  THE  DUKE  AND  DUCHESS  OF  LORRAINE  l 

He  thanks  them  for  having  hitherto  remitted  customs  \pr  tolls~\, 
but  asks  that  they  will  see  that  their  princely  liberality  is 
not  interfered  with  by  the  efforts  of  their  servants. 

To  the  Duke  and  Duchess  of  LORRAINE,  BERNARD, 
Abbot  of  Clairvaux,  sends  greeting,  and  prays  that 
they  may  so  lovingly  and  purely  rejoice  in  each 
other's  affection  that  the  love  of  Christ  alone  may  be 
supreme  in  them  both. 

Ever  since  the  needs  of  our  Order  obliged  me  to 
send  for  necessaries  into  your  land  I  have  found 
great  favour  and  kindness  in  the  eyes  of  your  Grace. 
You  freely  displayed  the  blessings  of  your  bounty  on 
our  people  when  they  needed  it.  You  freely  re 
mitted  to  them  when  travelling  their  toll,2  the  dues  on 
their  purchases,  and  any  other  legal  due  of  yours. 
For  all  these  things  your  reward  is  surely  great  in 
heaven,  if,  indeed,  we  believe  that  to  be  true  which 
the  Lord  promises  in  His  Gospel :  Inasmuch  as  ye 
have  done  it  unto  one  of  the  least  of  these  my  brethren  ye 

1  That  is,  Simon  and  Adelaide,  not  Gertrude,  as  most  write.     For  the 
account   of  the    conversion   of  this   Duchess  by   S.    Bernard   see   Lift, 
Bk.  i.  c.   14.     She  took  the  veil  of  a  Religious  in  the  Nunnery  of  Tart, 
in  the  environs  of  Dijon,  as  is  clear  from  the  autograph  Letters  of  her 
son,   Duke    Matthew,   who   calls   his  mother  Atheleide.     These  Letters 
P.  F.  Chifflet  refers  to  at  the  end  of  his  four  Opuscula,  ed.  Paris,  1679. 
I  do  not  refer  to   the   pretended  Letters  of  Gertrude   to   Bernard,  and 
Bernard   to  Gertrude,  translated    by   Bernard  Brito,  from   French   into 
Portuguese  and  thence  into  Latin. 

2  Passagium,   a   fixed   payment    from    travellers    entering   or  passing 
through  a  country;  droit  de  passage  or  "toll." 


LETTER    LVIII  235 

have  done  it  unto  me  (S.  Matt.  xxv.  40).  But  why  is 
it  that  you  allow  your  servants  to  take  away  again 
what  you  bestow  ?  It  seems  to  me  that  it  is  worthy 
of  you  and  for  your  honour,  that  when  you  have 
been  pleased  to  bestow  anything  for  the  safety  of 
your  souls  no  one  should  venture  to  demand  it  back 
again.  If,  then  (which  God  forbid),  you  do  not 
repent  of  your  good  deed,  and  your  general  inten 
tion  in  respect  to  us  is  still  the  same,  be  pleased  to 
order  it  to  be  a  firm  and  unshaken  rule  ;  that  hence 
forward  our  brethren  may  never  fear  to  be  disturbed 
in  this  matter  by  any  of  your  servants.  But  other 
wise  we  do  not  refuse  to  follow  our  Lord's  example, 
who  did  not  disdain  to  pay  the  dues.  We  also  are 
ready  willingly  to  render  to  Caesar  the  things  that  are 
Ccesar's  (S.  Matt.  xvii.  26),  custom  to  whom  custom,  and 
tribute  to  whom  tribute  is  due  (Rom.  xiii.  7),  especially 
because,  according  to  the  Apostle,  we  ought  not  to 
seek  our  gift  so  much  as  your  gain  (Phil.  iv.  17). 


LETTER   LVIII 
To  THE  DUCHESS  OF  LORRAINE 

He  thanks  her  for  kindnesses  shown,  and  deters  her  from 
an  unjust  war. 

I  thank  God  for  your  pious  goodwill  which  I  know 
that  you  have  towards  Him  and  His  servants.  For 
whenever  the  tiniest  little  spark  of  heavenly  love  is 
kindled  in  a  worldly  heart  ennobled  with  earthly 
honours,  that,  without  doubt,  is  God's  gift,  not  man's 


236  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

virtue.  For  our  part  we  are  very  glad  to  avail  our 
selves  of  the  kind  offers  made  to  us  of  your  bounty 
in  your  letter.  But  having  heard  of  the  sudden  and 
serious  stress  of  business,  which,  of  course,  must  be 
delaying  you  at  this  time,  we  think  it  meet  to  await 
your  opportunity  as  it  shall  please  you.  For,  as  far 
as  in  me  lies,  I  would  not  be  a  burden  to  any  one, 
particularly  in  things  pertaining  to  God,  where  we 
ought  to  seek  not  so  much  the  profit  of  the  gift  as 
advantage  abounding  to  the  giver.  And  so,  if  you 
please,  name  a  day  and  place  in  your  answer  by  this 
messenger,  when,  by  God's  help,  having  brought  to 
an  end  the  business  which  now  occupies,  you  will  be 
able  to  approach  these  regions,  where  our  brother 
Wido l  will  meet  you,  so  that  if  he  finds  anything 
in  your  country  profitable  for  our  Order  you  may 
fulfil  your  promise  with  greater  ease  and  speed.  For 
God  loveth  a  cheerful  giver  (2  Cor.  ix.  7).  Otherwise, 
if  perchance  the  delay  please  you  not,  let  me  know 
this  also  :  for  in  this  matter  I  am  ready,  as  reason 
allows,  to  obey  your  wishes.  I  salute  the  Duke,  your 
husband,  through  your  mouth,  and  I  venture  to  urge 
him  and  you  both,  if  you  know  that  the  castle  for 
which  you  are  going  to  war  does  not  belong  to  your 
rightful  domain,  for  the  love  of  God  to  let  it  alone. 
For  what  shall  it  profit  a  man  if  he  gain  the  whole  world 
and  lose  his  own  soul?  (S.  Matt.  xvi.  26). 

1  I    think  this  is  Wido  [or   Guy  ?],   Abbot  of  Trois    Fontaines,   who 
frequently  went  to  Lorraine.     Cf.  63,  69. 


LETTER    LIX  237 

LETTER   LIX 

To  THE  DUCHESS  OF  BURGUNDY* 

He  tries  to  appease  her  anger  against  Hugo,  and  asks  her 
assent  to  a  certain  marriage. 

The  special  friendship  with  which  your  Grace  is 
pleased,  as  it  is  supposed,  to  honour  me,  a  poor 
monk,  is  so  widely  known  that  whenever  any  one 
thinks  your  Grace  has  him  in  displeasure,  he  applies 
to  me  as  the  best  medium  for  being  restored  to  your 
favour.  Hence  it  is  that  some  time  ago,  when  I  was 
at  Dijon,  Hugo  de  Bese  urged  me  with  many  en 
treaties  to  appease  your  displeasure,  which  he  had 
deserved,  and  to  obtain,  for  the  love  of  God,  and  by 
your  kindness  towards  me,  your  assent  to  the  marriage 
of  his  son,  which,  though  it  did  not  meet  with  your 
approval,  he  had  irrevocably  determined  to  make, 
since  it  was,  as  he  thinks,  an  advantage  to  himself. 
And  for  this  reason  he  has  been  besieging  my  ears, 
not  as  before,  by  his  own  prayers,  but  by  the  lips  of 
his  friends.  Now,  I  do  not  much  care  about  worldly 
advantages,  but  since  the  matter,  as  he  himself  says, 
seems  to  have  reached  such  a  narrow  pass  that  he 
cannot  prevent  the  marriage  except  by  perjuring 
himself,  I  have  thought  it  meet  to  tell  you  this,  since 
that  must  be  a  serious  object  which  should  be  pre 
ferred  to  the  good  faith  of  a  Christian  man  and  your 

1  Matilda,  wife  of  Hugo  I.,  Duke  of  Burgundy,  who  was  cherishing  her 
anger  against  Hugo  de  Bese.  This  place  was  situate  four  leagues  from 
Dijon,  and  famous  for  the  Monastery  of  that  name  (Bese)  of  the  Bene 
dictine  Order.  About  this  Hugo  see  Perard,  pp.  221,  222. 


238  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

servant.  For  he  cannot  be  perjured  and  yet  at  the 
same  time  keep  faith  with  his  Prince.1  Aye,  and  I 
see  not  only  no  gain  to  you,  but  also  much  danger 
arising,  if  those  whom  perhaps  God  has  determined 
to  join  together  should  be  put  asunder  by  you.  May 
the  Lord  grant  His  grace  to  you,  most  noble  lady, 
so  dear  to  me  in  Christ,  and  to  your  children. 
Behold,  now  is  the  acceptable  time;  behold,  now  is  the  day 
of  salvation.  Spend  your  corn  on  Christ's  poor,  that 
in  eternity  you  may  receive  it  with  usury. 


NOTE   TO   THE   FOLLOWING   TREATISE 

i.  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.  191  of  S.  Bernard,  and  in  another, 
which  is  No.  337,  the  Fathers  of  the  Council  an 
nounced  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." 

1  Legaliiati,   i.e.,   good   faith,   which  consists  in   performing  promises 
once  made. 


LETTER    LX  239 

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  attributed  to  him.     Others,  on  the  contrary, 
he    recognized    as    his,    and    corrected    them    in   his 
Apology,  in   which  he  represents   Bernard  as  being 
his  only  opponent,  his  malignant  and  hasty  denoun 
cer.       Two    former    partizans    of    Abaelard  himself, 
but  who  had  long  recoiled  from  his  errors,  Geoffrey, 
who  afterwards  was  the  Secretary  of  Bernard,  and 
"a  certain  Abbot  of  the  Black  Monks,"  whose  name 
is    unknown,    attempted   to    justify    Bernard   against 
these  calumnies.     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 


240  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

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  statements  both  from  his  Apology  and  from 
his  Theology,  which  do  not  appear  in  the  printed 
editions  ;  and  certainly  Abaelard  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,  acknow 
ledges,  though  perhaps  not  quite  sincerely,  that  in 
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, 
a  least,  he  could  not  deny  that  he  had  fallen  into 
various  errors — a  liking  for  new  words  and  phrases, 


LETTER    LX 


241 


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  Vener 
able,  Abbot  of  Cluny,  who  has  described  his  last  days 
in  pleasing  terms  in  a  Letter  which  he  wrote  to 
Heloise. 

5.  Bernard  did  not  attack  Abaelard  in  his  dis 
courses  and  writings  with  impunity.  Not  only  was 
Abaelard  impatient  of  his  censure,  but  also  Beren- 
garius,  his  disciple  and  defender,  dared  to  accuse 
Bernard  of  having  spread  certain  errors  in  his  books. 
"  You  have  certainly  erred,"  says  Berengarius,  ad 
dressing  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  (Serm. 
in  Cantica,  No.  17):  'The  Apostle  has  rightly  said, 
our  conversation  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 
Abaelard,  who  accused  the  Abbot  of  saying  that  God, 


242  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

and  Man  assumed  by  God,  are  one  Person  in  the 
Trinity.  Whereas  Man  is  a  material  body  composed 
of  various  limbs  and  dissoluble,  while  God  is  neither 
a  material  body,  nor  has  any  limbs,  nor  can  be  dis 
solved.  Wherefore,  neither  ought  God  to  be  called 
Man,  nor  Man  to  be  called  God,"  etc.  Thus  Abae- 
lard  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  unknown  Abbot.  As  to  the 
Eucharistic  species  or  the  accidents,  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  working  upon  them, 


LETTER    LX  243 

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  Corpore  ct  Sanguine  Domini,  c.  3  :  "  In 
opposition  to  every  conception  and  mode  of  reason 
ing  in  secular  philosophy,  the  substance  of  bread  is 
changed  into  another  substance,  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  round 
ness  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  ex 
pressed  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  Scrip 
tures,  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 


244  s-    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

before  all,  exhorts  us  by  the  Scriptures,  and  reminds 
us  by  examples,  so  that  men,  in  the  power  of  that 
liberty  of  will  which  they  have,  may  decide  to  em 
brace  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 
William,  who  was  a  learned  and  pious  man  :  especi 
ally  as  Abaelard  in  his  Book  iv.,  on  the  Epistle  to 
the  Romans,  teaches  the  same  hurtful  doctrine  (p. 
653  and  following).  We  learn  from  all  these  expres 
sions  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  con 
cerns  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  ex 
aggerated,  to  read  the  end  of  Book  iii.  of  the  Theology 
of  Abaelard  ;  there  it  will  be  found  in  his  own  words, 


LETTER    LX  245 

"  that  those  who  abhor  our  words  respecting  the 
faith  may  be  easily  convinced  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  continues,  "  if 
they  believe  in  the  wisdom  of  God  of  which  it  is 
written  :  Thou  hast  made  all  tilings  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 
believing  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  precipitation  and  of 
excess  of  zeal  against  him.  William  cle  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 


246  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

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  Abae 
lard,  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  con 
demned  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  The  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 


LETTER    LX  247 

your  curiosity  will  be  completely  satisfied  in  learn 
ing  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  of  Sens  and  to  Bernard  (Spicileg.,  Vol.  xii. 
p.  478  et  seqq.). 

9.  After  I  had  written  what  precedes,  our  brother, 
John  Durand,  who  was  then  occupied  at  Rome,  sent 
me  the  Capilula  Hceresuw  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  sea/,  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 


248  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

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  the 
Father. 

"The  Son  and  the  Holy  Spirit  are  of  the  Father, 
the  One  by  the  way  of  generation,  the  Other  by  that 
of  procession.  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  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  any  one  proceeds 
through  love  from  his  own  self  to  another,  since,  as 
we  have  said  above,  no  one  can  be  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, 
cannot  be  moved  by  the  feeling  of  beneficence 
towards  His  own  self,  to  bestow  something  on 
Himself  out  of  beneficence,  but  only  towards 
creatures." 


LETTER    LX  249 

III. — 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. 

"  By  the  reasoning  by  which  it  is  shown  that  God 
the  Father  has  generated  the  Son  of  as  great  good 
ness  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  may  be  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  would  not  be  consenting  to  sinful  actions. 
For  who  can  be  said  to  consent  to  evil,  except  he 
by  whom  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." 


250  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

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  ex 
piating  the  Death  of  Christ  itself,  and  all  the  great 
cruelties  committed  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  ? " 


LETTER    LX  251 

Again  :  "  To  whom  will  it  not  seem  cruel  and  un 
just  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  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  con 
siderations  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  neverthe 
less  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 


252  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

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. 

l<  It  is  frequently  asked  whether  it  is  true,  as  is 
said  by  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  in 
fluences  his  heart  and  inspires  in  him  the  will  to 
do  good,  and  multiplies  it  when  produced,  and 
preserves  it  after  having  been  multiplied.  If  it  is  true 
that  man  is  not  able  to  do  anything  good  by  him 
self,  and  that  he  is  incapable  of  raising  himself  up 
in  any  way  whatever  by  his  free  will  for  the  recep 
tion  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 


LETTER    LX  253 

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  which  is  offered 
to  him  by  the  reason  which  has,  indeed,  been  be 
stowed  upon  him  by  God  ;  nor  does  God  do  any 
thing  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  who  view  them  a  desire  to  pur 
chase.  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  other,  because  he  is  indo 
lent  does  not  labour,  and,  therefore,  does  not  pur 
chase  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  them 
selves  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 


254  s-    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

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,  hut  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." 

VII. — That  God  ought  not  to  hinder  evil  actions. 

11  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,  tern- 


LETTER    LX 


255 


poral  and  eternal,  which  is  incurred  by  them  through 
the  fault  of  their  first  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  substance  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,  where 
fore  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 


256  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

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  ivorks. 

11  It  is  frequently  asked  what  it  is  that  is  recom 
pensed  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  according  to  his  works 
(Romans  ii.  6).  And  Athanasius  says :  '  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  con 
trary  to  the  Apostle,  or  to  other  authors,  because 
when  the  Apostle  says  God  ivill  render  to  each,  etc.,  he 
puts  the  effect  for  the  cause,  that  is  to  say,  the  action 
for  the  will  or  intention. 


XL — 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 


LETTER    LX  257 

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  sim 
plicity  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  thou 
shall  bind  on  earth,  etc.  (xvi.  19)  is  thus  to  be  under 
stood  :  Whatsoever  thou  shalt  bind  on  earth,  i.e.,  in  the 
present  life,  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,  any  one  shall  say  that  this  applies  also 
to  their  successors,  it  will  be  needful  in  that  case  to 

R 


258  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

explain  this  passage  also  in  the  same  manner  in  which 
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  de 
lectation  is  produced  in  the  soul  because  of  our 
weakness,  and  by  the  remembrance  of  the  pleasure 
which  is  bound  in  the  accomplishment  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  we  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    LX  259 


LETTER  LX  (A.D.   1140) 

To  THE  SAME,  AGAINST  CERTAIN  HEADS  OF 
ABAELARD'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  thy  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  the  office  of  Peter,  whose  seat  you 
occupy,  if  by  your  admonition  you  strengthen  the 
hearts  that  are  wavering  in  the  faith,  if  by  your 
authority  you  crush  the  corrupters  of  the  faith. 


260  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 


CHAPTER  I 

Jle  explains  and  refutes  the  dogmas  of  Abaelard  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.  1  know  not  what  there  is  in  heaven  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  pre 
sumptuously  prepared  to  give  a  reason  for  every 
thing,  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  what  is  more  against 
faith  than  to  be  unwilling  to  believe  what  reason 
cannot  attain  ?  For  instance,  wishing  to  explain  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  whatever  if  human  reason  furnishes 
it  with  proof.  But  he  praises  the  Apostles,  because 


LETTER    LX  261 

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  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  pro 
ceeds  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 

1  Materiatum ;  tnateria. 


262  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

everything  created.  But  the  Apostle  does  not  deny 
that  they  are  of  God,  nor  is  he  afraid  to  say :  Of 
whom  are  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  every 
thing  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  the  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  substance  of  garments,  but  not  their  gene 
ration.  And  there  are  many  instances  of  this  kind. 

3.  Since  he  admits  that  the  Holy  Spirit  is  consub- 
stantial  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  the  Son,  unless  perchance  he  thinks  that  the 
two  first  persons  proceed  from  the  substance  of  the 
third.  But  this  is  an  impious  and  unheard  of  opinion. 
But  if  neither  He  proceeds  from  their  substance,  nor 
They  from  His,  where,  I  pray,  is  the  consubstanti- 


LETTER    LX  263 

ality  ?  Let  him  then  either  confess  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  endea 
vouring  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  blasphe 
mies  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 


264  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

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." 

CHAPTER  II 

In  the  Trinity  it  is  not  possible  to  admit  any  disparity :  but 
equality  in  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  doubt 
ful,  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.2  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  indu 
bitably  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 

1  Non  disputante,  sed  dementante. 

2  Anselm  greatly  approves  this  idea  respecting  God  in  his  Monologium 
and  his  Apologetictis  at  the  commencement. 


LETTER    LX  265 

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  superabound- 
ing  in  the  Three,  nor  diminished  in  Each  Per 
son.  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  participa 
tion,  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  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  pro- 
pria  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  illustration  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 


266  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

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  com 
mon  nature  are  to  each  other  as  superiors  and  infe 
riors,  and  therefore  no  comparison  is  to  be  drawn 
from  these  things  with  That  in  which  there  is  no  ine 
quality,  no  dissimilarity.  You  see  from  what  unskil- 
fulness  or  impiety  the  use  of  these  similitudes  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  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  be 
cause  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. 


LETTER    LX  267 

It  is  not  so  with  power  and  many  other  attributes 
which  are  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 
especially  to  the  proprium  of  the  Person  of  the 
Father,  because  He  not  only  can  do  all  things  in 
union  with  the  other  two  Persons,  but  also  because 
He  alone  has  His  existence  from  Himself,  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  Himself,  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  partition  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 


268  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

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  omnipo 
tence  properly  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 
power  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,  "  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"   (Abaci.   Theol.   B.  ii.  p.    1083). 
Do  you,  then,  mean  that,  like  the  preceding  simili 
tudes,  your  similitude  demands  that  the  Son  to  be 
the  Son  must  first  be  the  Father,  i.e.,  that  He  who  is 
the  Son  is  the  Father,  though   not  conversely  ?     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  com- 


LETTER    LX  269 

parison,  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  of  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  conversely,  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  compare  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  how  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 


270  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

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  proposition  is  neces 
sarily  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-kindness,  he  says,  which  is  denoted  by  the 
name  of  the  Holy  Spirit  is  not  in  God  power  or 
wisdom  (Theol.  ii.  1085).  /  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 


LETTER    LX  271 

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  where  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 


272  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

bitter  death,  when  there  was  a  doubt  as  to  the  re 
compense  of  their  reward.  But  far  be  it  from  us  to 
think  that  in  our  faith  or  hope  anything,  as  he  sup 
poses,  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  ?  I  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  con 
founded.  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, 


LETTER    LX  273 

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  put  before  you.  You  are  en 
closed  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  holy  fear  of  the 
Lord  in  the  world  to  come  ;  that  after  the  consecra 
tion  of  the  bread  and  of  the  cup,  the  former  acci 
dents  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  inundi ; 
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.  1  speak 
only  of  those  on  which  1  cannot  keep  silence. 


274  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

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  the  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  conclusion  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  pos 
sessed  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  con 
queror.  Therefore,  he  says,  as  the  doctors  teach, 
the  Son  of  God  became  incarnate  under  this  neces 
sity,  that  since  man  could  not  otherwise  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 


LETTER    LX  275 

more  intolerable  in  these  words,  the  blasphemy  or 
the  arrogance  ?  Which  is  the  more  to  be  con 
demned,  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,  says  so,  but  so  do  not  I.  What,  then, 
do  you  say  ?  What  better  statement  have  you  ? 
What  more  subtle  reason  have  you  discovered  ? 
WThat  more  secret  revelation  do  you  boast  of  which 
has  passed  by  the  Saints  and  escaped  from  the  wise  ? 
He,  I  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  from  a  wise  man,  nor  prophet,  nor 
apostle,  nor  even  from  the  Lord  Himself  have  you 
received  this.  The  teacher  of  the  Gentiles  received 
from  the  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  no/,  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  ivho  speakelh  a  lie  spcaketh  of  his 
oivn  (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  other  Gospel 
do  the  Law,  the  Prophets,  apostles,  and  apostolic 


276  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

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,  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,  therefore,  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 
speads  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  con 
fess  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 


LETTER    LX  277 

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  pro 
ceeds  thus  :  And  not  for  that  nation  onfy,  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  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  perhaps  that  may  happen  to  you  which  one  of 


278  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

them  describes,  speaking  of  certain  persons  :  If  God, 
peradventurc,  will  give  them  repentance  to  the  acknowledg 
ing  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  pos 
sessor  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  your 
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  trans 
lated  us  into  the  kingdom  of  His  dear  Son  (Col.  i.  1 3). 
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  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  was  given  from  above.  Let  him,  therefore, 
learn  that  not  only  had  the  devil  power  over  man, 


LETTER    LX 


279 


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  was  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  any  one  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 
mercifully  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  himself  to  recover  that 
righteousness  which  he  had  formerly  lost  ?  There 
fore  he  who  lacked  righteousness  had  another's  im 
puted  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  Inno- 


280  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

cent  he  lost  most  justly  those  whom  he  held  captive  ; 
since  He  who  owed  nothing  to  death,  lawfully  freed 
him  who  was  subject  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  all  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's2  falsehood  is 
refuted,  He  who  died  for  us,  quickened  us  together  with 
Himself,  forgiving  us  all  our  trespasses,  blotting  out  the 
handwriting  of  ordinances  that  was  against  us,  and  took 
it  out  of  the  way,  nailing  it  to  His  cross,  having  spoiled 
principalities  and  powers  (Col.  ii.  13,  14). 

16.  May  I  be  found  amongst  those  spoils  of  which 
the  opposing  powers  were  deprived,  and  be  handed 
over  into  the  possession  of  my  Lord.  If  Laban  pursue 
me  and  reproach  me  for  having  left  him  by  stealth, 

1  Forefecit,  i.e.,  offended  or  transgressed.     FWisfactltrtt  or  forefactum 
denoted  the  crime  or  offence  :  and  the  former  word  is  also  used  to  signify 
the  penalty  of  a  crime.     Forisfactus  is  the  criminal  himself.     Servus  foris- 
faftus  is  a  free  man  who  has  been  reduced  to  slavery  as  a  punishment  for 
crime  (Legibus  A  the  Is  tan.  Reg.  c.  3).     From  this  word  is  the  French  for- 
faire,  forfait ;  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  Cange's  Glossary  s.v.  Forisfacerc.  Forcellini's  ed.  of  Facciolati 
does  not  give  the  word. — [E.] 

2  i.e.,  Abaelard. 


LETTER    LX  281 

he  shall  be  told  that  I  came  to  him  by  stealth,  and 
therefore  so  left  him.  The  secret  power  of  sin  sub 
jected  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  redeemed  ?  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  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  righteousness  in 
the  blood  of  Christ  ?  But  he  will  say,  "  Let  righteous 
ness  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 
fitting  for  the  son  to  bear  the  iniquity  of  the  father, 
and  yet  to  have  no  share  in  the  righteousness  of  his 
brother.  But  now  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 


282  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

cause,  and  therefore  the  spirit  must  necessarily  over 
come  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  justified  through  His 
grace  by  the  blood  of  His  Son:  It  is  God  that  justi- 
fieth,  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 
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  righteous 
ness  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  I  receive  the  answer  :  What  hast  thou 
that  thou  didst  not  receive  ?  now  if  thou  didst  receive  it, 
why  dost  thou  glory  as  if  thou  hadst  not  received  it? 
(i  Cor.  iv.  7). 


LETTER    LX  283 


CHAPTER  VII 

He  severely  reproves  Abaelard  for  scrutinizing  rashly  and  im 
piously,  and  extenuating  the  power  of,  the  secret  things  of 
God. 

17.  This  is  the  righteousness  of  man  in  the  blood 
of  the  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  the  world,  that  He  made 
trial  of  our  infirmities,  that  He  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  the  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  glory  (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  uncircum- 
cised  and  unclean  person  can  lightly  penetrate  to  the 


284  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

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  manifested  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  Thou  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). 

18.  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  be 
lieve  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 


LETTER    LX 


285 


in  order  that  the  purpose  of  God  concerning  them 
might  be  fulfilled.  But  it  behoved  Him  to  set  them 
free  in  this  world,  that  He  might  have  them  as  free- 
born  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  be 
lieved  God,  and  it  ivas  counted  unto  him  for  righteousness 
(Gen.  xv.  6).  Again  :  Abraham  rejoiced  to  see  My  day, 
and  he  saw  it  and  was  glad  (§.  John  viii.  56).  There 
fore  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  David, 
Blessed  is  He  that  cometh  in  the  Name  of  the  Lord 
(S.  Matt.  xxi.  9).  Therefore  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. 


286  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 


CHAPTER  VIII 

Wherefore  Christ  undertook  a  method  of  setting  us  free  so  pain 
ful  and  laborious,  when  a  word  from  Jfim,  or  an  act  of 
His  will,  would  alone  have  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  any  one  denies  this  ;  then 
after  much  more  he  proceeds  :  "  And  so  what  neces 
sity,  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  dark 
ness  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  ways  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 


LETTER    LX  287 

is  that  in  a  land  of  forgetfulness,  of  slowness  of  spirit, 
and  of  constant  offending,  we  are  more  forcibly  and 
more  vividly  warned  by  so  many  and  such  great  suffer 
ings  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  penetrate  (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  ac 
ceptation,  that  while  we  were  yet  sinners  we  were  recon 
ciled  to  God  by  the  death  of  His  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  reconcilia 
tion  while  sin  remains.  In  what,  then,  is  remission 
of  sins  ?  This  cup,  He  says,  is  tJie  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 


288  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

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,  in  whom,  as  S.  Paul  says  again,  we  have  redemp 
tion  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 
Word?  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  tast 
ing  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  by  the 
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  be 
cause  of  it  our  innocent  Lord  was  slain  ?  Would  He 
not  have  been  able  to  forgive  us  much  more  easily  if 
so  heinous  a  sin  had  not  been  committed  ?  "  It  was 


LETTER    LX  289 

not  His  death  alone  that  pleased  the  Father,  but  His 
voluntary  surrender  to  death  ;  and  by  that  death  de 
stroying  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  con 
demned  Him].  And  the  greater  their  iniquity,  the 
more  holy  His  will,  and  the  more  powerful  to  salva 
tion  ;  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  power 
ful  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  any  one  to  whom  it  does  not  seem  cruel  and 
unjust,  that  any  one  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 

T 


290  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

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  salvation,  and  not  for  the  mere  exhibi 
tion  of  charity,  as  this  man  thinks  and  writes.  For  he 
so  concludes  the  numerous  calumnies  and  reproaches, 
which  he  as  impiously  as  ignorantly  belches  out  against 
God,  as  to  say  that  "  the  whole  reason  why  God  ap 
peared  in  the  flesh  was  for  our  education  by  His  word 
and  example,"  or,  as  he  afterwards  says,  for  our  in 
struction;  that  the  whole  reason  why  He  suffered  and 
died  was  to  exhibit  or  commend  to  us  charity. 


CHAPTER   IX 

That  Christ  came  into  the  world,  not  only  to  instruct  us, 
but  also  to  free  us  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  that  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 


LETTER    LX  291 

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  confess 
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  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  weak 
ness  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.  Therefore,  infants  have  no  redemp 
tion  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 


292  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

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  dispen 
sation  of  this  deep  mystery  ;  for  he  places  the  glory  of 
our  redemption  and  the  great  work  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  salvation, 
life,  and  resurrection. 

25.  And,  indeed,  I  see  three  chief  virtues  in  this 
work  of  our  salvation  :  the  form  of  humility  in  which 
God  emptied  Himself ;  the  measure  of  charity  which 
He  stretched  out  even  to  death,  and  that  the  death  of 
the  Cross  ;  the  mystery  of  redemption,  by  which  He 
bore  that  death  which  He  underwent.  The  former 
two  of  these  without  the  last  are  as  if  you  were  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  re 
demption  be  wanting.  I  wish  to  follow  with  all  my 
strength  the  lowly  Jesus ;  I  wish  Him,  who  loved  me 
and  gave  Himself  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, 


LETTER    LX  293 

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  anything  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  mean 
while  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  destroy  every 
high  thing  that  exalteth  itself  against  the  knowledge  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. 


294  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

LETTER   LXI   (A.D.    1138) 
To  Louis  THE  YOUNGER,  KING  OF  THE  FRENCH. 

He  endeavours  to  defend  the  election  of  Geoffrey,  Prior  of 
Ctairvaux,  to  the  See  of  Langres ;  to  which  the  King 
had  appeared  adverse. 

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.  Nor  am  I  ignorant  who  it  is 
that  has  said,  Whosoever  resisteth  the  power  resisteth  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.  I  say  the  truth,  I  lie  not ; 
what  was  done  at  Langres  in  the  matter  of  our  Prior l 
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 

1  This  refers  to  Geoffrey,  Bernard's  kinsman,  who  after  many  disagree 
ments  had  been  at  length  unanimously  taken  from  being  third  Prior  of 
Clairvaux  to  be  Bishop  of  Langres,  A.D.  1138. 


LETTER    LXI  295 

against  me.  The  staff  of  my  weakness  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.  I  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  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 
contend  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,  O  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  I  may  die  before  seeing  a  king  of  whom 

1  This  was  after  the  death  of  Archbishop  Reginald,  which  happened 
A.n.  1139,  on  January  I3th. 


296  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

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  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  any 
thing  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 


LETTER    LXII  297 

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. 


LETTER  LXII  (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 


298  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

was  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  worthy  to  obtain  the  favour  of  the 
Apostolic  See,  the  fulness  of  honour,  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  LXIII  (A.D.   1139) 

To  THE  SAME,  IN  THE  NAME  OF  GODFREY,  BISHOP 
OF  LANG  RES. 

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  Lyons,  and  has  without  strife  given  it  a 
worthy  successor  to  Peter  of  pious  memory,  its  Arch 
bishop,  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  con 
secrated,  may  receive  at  your  hands  the  fulness  of 
honour  that  belongs  to  his  office.  And  what  makes 


LETTER    LXIV  299 

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  LXIV  (A.D.   1139) 

TO    THE    ABOVE-NAMED    FALCO. 
Bernard  recommends  to  him  the  interests  of  certain  Religious. 

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  deter 
mination  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  I  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, 

1  Benissons  Dieu  was  a  Cistercian  Abbey,  an  offshoot  of  Clairvaux,  in 
the  Diocese  of  Lyons,  and  was  founded  A.D.  1138.  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  Iterius,  of  whom  Bernard 
here  complains. 


300  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

though  well  deserving  of  your  favour  through  his  own 
merits,  may  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  XLV  (circa  A.D.  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  See,  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  flourish 
ing,  a  more  grave  and  religious  life,  more  consummate 
wisdom,  a  greater  weight  of  authority,  a  more  impos 
ing  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. 


LETTER    LXV  301 

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  introduc 
ing  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  pre 
tension  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  unestablished. 
And  the  matter  in  question  is  of  such  a  nature  that  it 
could  not  possibly  have  escaped  the  diligence  of  the 
Fathers  if  they  had  not  thought  that  they  ought  not  to 
occupy  themselves  with  it. 

2.  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  before 
hand  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 


302  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

have  learnt  from  the  Church  I  both  hold  securely 
myself  and  teach  to  others ;  what  I  have  not  received 
from  the  Church  I  confess  I  should  with  great  diffi 
culty  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 
\yentre :  otherwise  de  vulva]  he  was  sanctified,  and  I 
think  no  otherwise  of  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  he  said  in 
addressing  God  :  In  Thee  I  have  been  strengthened 
from  the  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  tJiee  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 
distinguished  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 


LETTER    LXV  303 

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  pre 
destination  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  certainly  the 
Holy  Ghost  sanctified  the  man  whom  He  filled.  But 
how  far  this  sanctification  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 
determine.  But  of  these  holy  persons  whom  God  has 
sanctified,  and  brought  forth  from  the  womb  with  the 
same  sanctification  which  they  have  received  in  the 
womb,  I  do  not  hesitate  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, 
where  he  had  received  this  fulness  of  the  Spirit, 
would  endure  the  pains  of  damnation  ?  That  opinion 
is  very  severe  ;  I,  however,  do  not  dare  to  decide  any 
thing  respecting  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 


304  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

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  accounting 
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   born    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  not  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  grand- 


LETTER    LXV  305 

parents,  and  then  to  their  parents,  and  so  on  ad 
infinitum  ?  Thus  we  should  have  festivals  without 
number.  Such  a  frequency  of  joys  befits  Heaven,  not 
this  state  of  exile.  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  any  one  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  command 
ment  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  con 
ception  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 

1  A  writing  of  this  kind  is  attributed  to  an  English  abbot  named  Elsin 
in  the  works  of  Anselm,  pp.  505,  507  of  the  new  edition. 

U 


3o6  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

have  a  retrospective  effect  upon  the  conception  which 
had  preceded  it. 

6.  Whence,  then,  was  the  holiness  of  that  concep 
tion  ?  Shall  it  be  said  that  Mary  was  so  prevented 
by  grace  that,  being  holy  before  being  conceived,  she 
was  therefore  conceived  without  sin  ;  or  that,  being 
holy  before  being  born,  she  has  therefore  com 
municated  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  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  thee  (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  con 
ceived  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 


LETTER    LXV  307 

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  re 
ceived  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. 
He  being  excepted,  all  the  children  of  Adam  are  in 
the  same  case  as  he  who  confessed  of  himself  with 
great  humility  and  truth,  /  was  shapen  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  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 


308  S.    BERNARD'S    LETTERS 

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 
whosoever  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  LXVI  (A.D.   1135) 
To  THE  PATRIARCH  OF  JERUSALEM 

Having  received  many  letters  from  him,  Bernard  replies  in  a 
friendly  manner ,  and  praises  the  soldiers  of  the  Temple. 

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 

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. 


LETTER    LXVI  309 

the  blessings  of  goodness,  you  have  graciously  set  me 
the  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  I 
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  salu 
tation,  which  is  all  that  I  can  do  at  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  de 
fenders  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  will  tell  you  my  mind. 


THK    END 


Printed  by  BAI.LANTYNB,   HANSON  6?  Co. 
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BX  4700  .B5A413  1906 

SMC 

Bernard,  of  Clairvaux. 

Saint,  1090  or  91-1153. 
Some  letters  of  Saint 

Bernard  / 
BBG-2892  (mcsk)